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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

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All The Pretty Girls - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by All The Pretty Girls by Kenny Chesney.

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: sickeningly sweet Bob fluff.

word count: 3.1k

I'm home for the summer, shoot out the lights Don't blow my cover, oh I'm free tonight I'm coming over, call all your friends "Somebody hold me", all the pretty girls said All of the whiskey, went to my head "Shut up and kiss me", all the pretty girls said

Bob took in a deep breath as he walked up the long, dirt pathway that lead to his parents’ farmhouse. It’d been months since he’d been back in Kentucky - years, even, and as he approached the sounds of the party his family was throwing in the backyard, he felt himself fighting harder and harder to resist the overwhelming urge to turn around and run as fast as he could back to his rental car, hop in and catch the next flight back to San Diego. He contemplated the excuses he could come up with to explain his sudden disappearance, but before he had a chance to figure out the minor details, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Bobby! There’s our favourite lil pilot!”

His uncle shouted from across the yard, coming over to him with a firm slap on the shoulder as he greeted him. Bob tried not to cringe at the juvenile nickname his family still called him - he hated being called Bobby. No one back in San Diego knew him as anything other than Bob - it felt more grown up. He was the baby in his family, often called Bobby in a condescending way to remind him of how much younger he was than everyone else.

He’d been the surprise baby in the family - born unexpectedly when his mother was 37, following behind four older sisters who were 6, 8, 11 and 13 when he was born. Now, at 32, Bob felt himself recoil internally everytime someone called him that, especially if it was his family. His dozen nieces and nephews were about the only ones he’d tolerate it from, and occasionally his grandmother - who at this point was over 90 years old, and who was he to tell her no?

Bob adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, forcing a smile as he turned to face his boisterous family. Growing up, he’d always wondered if he was adopted - he was quiet, reserved, and shy - the complete opposite of everyone in his family tree. In fact, it was a running joke with his older sister Kate that he was adopted. He believed it for a while when he was 6 - it explained so much about him, or so he thought. Until, that was, the moment that his eldest sister, the often bossy and in control Jennifer, pulled out the home videos that had been recorded when Bob was born - a sight that Bob still couldn’t erase from his memory, regardless of how hard he tried to.

“I’m not so little anymore, Uncle Don,” Bob said with a sheepish smile as his uncle pulled him in for a bear hug.

“No, s’pose you aren’t now, are ya? You got yourself a little lady now, Bobby?”

“Not yet. I’ve been busy - haven’t been stateside in months, actually. This is my first chance at leave in over a year. Just never bothered taking it, I guess.”

That was a lie - Bob had taken a couple weeks leave last year, but he spent it at his home in San Diego, refreshing the decor and repainting to make it more to his tastes and basking in the peaceful quiet of his new space. He’d spent a day or two wandering around downtown San Diego with his friend, Bradley, the two of them exploring the area together - Bradley showing Bob all the sites he’d remembered from photographs and childhood memories. Bob couldn’t tell his family that though - they’d be crushed to learn that he had time off and chose not to spend it with them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he was sure of it. He just didn’t want to field all the questions he knew came with each visit. Nothing was off limits to his family - his love life, relationships, his personal details - he’d lost count of how many phone calls included a casual “So, meet anyone special yet, Bobby?”. He knew they meant well, but God, was he ever tired of it.

That was the other thing he’d grown tired of - watching his language all the time. His family was religious - far more so than he’d ever been, and the idea of swearing and cursing was scandalous to them, but it was something Bob’d grown used to in his 14 years serving in the Navy, between the Academy and on base. Trying to curb it around his family members was a task in and of itself.

“Robert!” His mother's arrival interrupted his ruminations, her fervent embrace enveloping him in a maternal cocoon. "Your accent's gone already, I knew California would be bad for you," she lamented, a tinge of jest lacing her words.

“Hi Ma, missed you,” He nodded, hugging her back firmly with a smile, “Relax, Ma, I’m still a Southern boy at heart, even if I don’t sound like it. Two of the guys in my squad are from the South too. Jake’s from Texas, Bradley’s from Virginia. I’ll probably find my accent again soon now that I’m stationed with them at North Island. At Lemoore I wasn’t paired up with anyone from here.”

“Ooh, Robert,” she said softly, rubbing his shoulder as she spoke to him, “There’s someone who’s been askin’ ‘bout you.”

Bob was about to ask who it was when the question was answered for him. He turned in the direction his mother was facing and felt his cheeks flush a bright red as he saw you. You and Bob had been friends as children - best friends, in fact. You’d kept in contact over the years, but eventually, around your 24th birthdays, the hangouts became less frequent, the phone calls grew further apart and texts took longer to answer, until eventually, they stopped. Standing in front of him now, eight years later, he couldn’t imagine for the life of him why he ever stopped talking to you.

His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, visions of what life would have been like if he’d manned up and asked you out. If he’d decided to risk it all in high school and take you to prom, or if he’d asked you out when you went to university a couple hours drive away from the Naval Academy. He figured he probably would have married you, if given the chance to go back and do it again. Own a house with a big yard, a half a dozen kids running around, some just like him, with sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and some just like you - a vision of beauty in his mind.

He snapped back to reality when he felt you wrap your arms around him, a wide smile spreading across your face. He hugged you firmly, not wanting to make his sudden desire to hold you close evident. For all he knew, you could be married with a family by this point - it wouldn’t be odd at all, not now in your early thirties. In fact, he felt like he was the odd one out compared to everyone he’d grown up around in Kentucky. Most of the people he’d gone to school with were parents to kids approaching third grade.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you pulled back from Bob’s embrace, sporting a warm, friendly grin.

“Yeah, it’s great seeing you too. Wow, it’s uh…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Eight years, give or take.” You nodded quickly, shrugging the idea off as you met Bob’s cobalt blue eyes, finding it hard not to get yourself lost in them. He always did have the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, framed perfectly now by silver wire framed glasses.

“How have you been?” He smiled as he guided you over towards the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and turning to look at you, “You want some sweet tea?”

“I’d love some, thanks Bob,” you nodded, remembering that he preferred going by that now that he was older.

As Bob poured two glasses of his mom’s homemade sweet tea for each of you, your eyes wandered over him, taking in the sight before you. The last time you’d seen him, Bob still resembled the teenage boy you’d crushed on throughout high school, but now, standing in his place, was a man. He stood at a solid six foot one, his blonde hair neatly combed, and a more adult style pair of wire glasses adorning his face, as opposed to the thick, dark square frames he wore throughout the time you knew him.

“I’ve been good,” you nodded slowly as you sipped the cool, brown liquid, the notes of lemon, sugar and black tea dancing on your tongue, “How about you? I heard you’re stationed out west now?”

“Yeah, I was at Lemoore, which is further north in California, but now I’m at North Island, in Coronado. Just outside of San Diego, actually. Other side of the bay.”

“How do you like it there? Bet the weather’s great, like, all the time, isn’t it? Much better than what I get out in D.C.”

“You’re in D.C. now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling softly, “Never left after college.”

Bob listened empathetically as you filled him in on everything he’d missed in your life over the past eight years. As you spoke, he couldn’t help but feel his attention wavering, not because he wasn’t interested in what you had to say, but because he couldn’t help but envision all the things that could’ve happened had he been brave enough to ask you out earlier. He wanted to kick himself for not trying for you - he’d always been fond of you. The sheer thought of you asking about him, and coming back to Kentucky to see him when he came home was enough to make him think of how much he’d screwed up before.

You felt yourself rambling nervously as you talked to Bob, trying to avoid any awkward silence between the two of you. You were so relieved to have this moment with him - just to talk to him again. You heard he was single, and you knew you still had unresolved feelings for him so when your mom had told you about the homecoming barbecue that Mrs. Floyd was planning for him, you knew you had to make the drive home, just to see what could’ve been between you both, and to see if anything remained between you.

As the night carried on, you felt yourself falling further and further for Bob - and now, you were left wondering why you hadn’t been bold enough to ask him out before. Why now, when it was the least convenient for the two of you, had to be when you realized this. You lived on the complete opposite coasts from one another - a six hour flight spanning the United States between the two of you. Although, the more time spent with Bob that evening, the more you found yourself considering taking a transfer to your job’s California office. Los Angeles was a much more doable three hour drive to San Diego - you could manage driving three hours every few days to see him if you needed to.

By 9pm, the party had dwindled down to a few members of Bob’s family, his parents, and you - everyone else having turned in for the night or headed home earlier. You, however, were staying a couple of houses away at your parents’ home, and could manage to stay as long as Bob wanted you to. He looked around the party, and, upon realizing he wouldn’t be missed anymore if he disappeared, he took you by the hand playfully, leading you to the old tree at the back of the property.

Nestled in the tree sat the treehouse you’d spent so many hours in together as kids, looking completely unchanged from when you’d last seen it. Bob smiled as he started climbing up the makeshift ladder, looking back at you with a mischievous grin - one you hadn’t seen in him since you were children.

“You comin’?” he ribbed playfully as he swung himself up into the treehouse, reaching his hand down to offer you help.

You shook your head, laughing at how ridiculous you felt, but quickly climbed your way up the tree to join him. He helped you into the treehouse, smirking at you as he adjusted his glasses. The treehouse was still decorated the way you’d left it - old toys sitting out on the table, a small toy chest full of Nerf guns and playing cards, a couple of toy cars and action figures joining them. Bob picked one of the action figures up, laughing as he held it in his hands, as if all the memories of you two playing together came flooding back at once.

“I forgot about this place,” you mused softly, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of forgotten treasures.

Bob nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips as he regarded the toy with a mix of fondness and amusement.

"Yeah, my nieces and nephews use it I guess sometimes. Glad to see they've left Batman intact for me though," he remarked, lifting the action figure as if to emphasize its importance.

A nostalgic chuckle bubbled up within you as you recalled the shared adventures of your childhood. "Hey, I remember that one! Batman used to come in and rescue Barbie for me all the time."

A playful glint danced in Bob's eyes as he remembered those innocent days of make-believe. "And then you insisted that Batman had to kiss Barbie."

"Listen, Barbie wanted to thank him," you protested with a playful grin, memories of imaginative play flooding back with each word.

"I think you just watched too many romcoms," Bob teased, his voice laced with affectionate banter.

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but laugh at the playful exchange, the echoes of your shared history ringing through the air. But as your laughter subsided, you found yourself drawn once more to Bob's gaze, the warmth of familiarity mingling with the weight of unspoken questions.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if we dated in high school?" you ventured, the words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting past and present.

"All the time, actually," Bob admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"I always figured I'd end up marrying you," you nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and sincerity as you confessed the thought that had lingered in the depths of your mind for far too long.

The air seemed to crackle with tension as your words hung in the space between you, each syllable echoing with the weight of unspoken truths and long-held desires. Across from you, Bob's expression shifted, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his features before settling into a mask of gentle surprise.

The soft glow of the evening sun cast golden hues upon the scene, lending an ethereal quality to the moment as you both grappled with the revelation that hung heavy in the air. For a heartbeat, the world around you seemed to stand still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come next.

Bob's gaze softened, his cobalt eyes reflecting the vulnerability mirrored in your own. "I… I never knew you felt that way," he admitted, his voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of fading daylight.

A rush of uncertainty washed over you, mingling with the warmth of raw honesty that spilled from your lips. "I think I just, pushed it away, you know? I didn’t want us to stop being friends over it or anything as kids." you confessed, your words a whispered confession carried on the breeze.

Silence enveloped you once more, punctuated only by the distant chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. In the quiet of the moment, the weight of unspoken possibilities hung heavy between you, a delicate dance of hope and fear weaving its way through the air.

Then, with a soft exhale, Bob reached across the space between you, his hand finding yours with a gentle certainty that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "Maybe… maybe we should talk about this," he suggested, his voice tentative yet filled with a quiet resolve.

As his fingers intertwined with yours, you felt a surge of courage swell within your chest, buoyed by the warmth of his touch. With a nod, you met his gaze, the tension hanging in the air melting away as you closed the distance between the two of you, locking your lips with his in a gentle, tender kiss.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of pure connection. His lips met yours with a softness that belied the depth of emotion coursing between you, igniting a spark that set your heart ablaze.

The sensation of his breath mingling with yours sent shivers cascading down your spine, each touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced across your skin like a gentle breeze. In that fleeting instant, you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the weight of the world falling away as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

The soft murmur of the evening breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning as you reveled in the sweetness of the moment. His arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies, only the shared warmth of your intertwined souls.

For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist beyond the two of you, each touch a testament to the depth of feeling that bound you together. In the embrace of his arms, you found solace, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of life's uncertainties. As you finally pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered on your lips, a lingering reminder of the passion that pulsed between you.

Bob’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he began to stutter as he spoke, a trait he’d long grown out of. “I, uh, I…um, that was…something,” he managed to spit out before beginning to ramble about how much he enjoyed kissing you.

“Bob,” you began, laughing softly as your hand gently rested on his cheek.

“Mhmm?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

#bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fic #robert floyd #bob floyd

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normansnt · 4 months

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The Prince pt.2

(Alastor x prince of hell! Reader)

Warnings: couple fight, kinda depression but nothing major, ehhh I think thats it.

Also Alastor might be a bit OOC but like who cares let me be delusional🫡

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It has been two months now since you and your dad visited your sisters hotel and you met Alastor.

Since then life has been amazing. You and Alastor continued to meet up in coffee shops and bars.

Of course you didn't tell your father since he would freak out.

However is has happened don more than one occasion that you spent the night in Alastors room at the hotel telling your father that you were just visiting Charlie.

Nothing happened of course since Alastor was asexual, and it took quite some time to get him comfortable with physical touch in general.

After he got used to it though it turned out he loved it. Only with you, but he loved it.

One of your favorite activities together is, in fact, cuddling.

Which you were doing right now as well you sitting in his lap in one of his arm chairs both of you reading books.

Alastor stopped reading for a second, and looked at you.

Since the meeting at the hotel a lot has happened. A lot that surprised even him. He has no idea he could get into e relationship let alone with someone as amazing as you.

Around the beginning of the second month into your relationship you got into a fight.

You wanted him to drop the act and open up to you because if he doesn't this relationship will never work.

And obviously he didn't want to. He has spent years building up his very carefully crafted facade. And who knew if you would still love him.

After that argument you didn't see each other for a week. Which was hell for alastor. Yes, he lived there but being away from you showed him what it was like for other people.

The pain in his heart was something he has never felt before, perhaps when his mother died but that was so long ago he could barely remember.

He woke up with that blinding pain in his chest and he thought is was just a temporary thing, so he went along his day.

Only to notice that the pain did not lessen or go away. It was there constantly and got worst whenever someone mentioned you.

After 3 days spent like this he could take it no more he went to you fathers house and requested to see you.

He knew that Lucifer didn't know you guys were together but he didn't care at this point he needed to see you and frankly he refused to do it over a little buzzing box.

Your father was of course as confused as one can be. What the fuck was the radio demon doing here wanting to talk to you.

They were about to get into another fight when you turned up.

Alastor froze when he saw you.

You were, even nicely speaking, a mess. Your hair was not as well kept the sleepless nights could be seen in your eyes, and you were wearing your pjs, which was one of Alastors shirts, from the few he owned.

Alastors didn't even spare another glance at your father he pushed him out of the way took your hand and led you to your room where you guys talked things out.

He didn't open up fully, but he stopped grinning. Which was already a huge step for him.

He promised, though, to open up to you more and more he just needed time.

And you were ok with that.

After he finished his sentence you leaped into his arm and kissed him which he eagerly returned. Missing the feeling of your lips on his.

"Alastor?"

He was staring at you. For a long time now and you were getting worried.

"Are you ok?" You asked while cupping his cheek.

He took the hand that was on his cheek and kissed your palm that put that hand on his chest where his heart would be if he had one.

"Oh, I'm quite alright dear, just thinking." He answered than leaned in for a kiss.

Your lips met and this kiss was not quite like the others.

Alastor but all the feelings he couldn't say into that one kiss stealing your breath. You felt the things he was to closed off to share and you understood why it would take him time.

After you parted you gave him another quick kiss which made him chuckle.

"WHERE IS THAT RADIO DEMON SON OF A BITCH"

Oh, yeah when Alastor visited you, Lucifer found out about you two, and since than...well lets just say Alastor enjoys tempting him with it to no end.

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YOU GUYS ASKED FOR A PART TWO, AND I DELIVERED😎

No cuz in all seriousness my hazbin fics have gotten so much love and I just wanna thank you guys so much😭🧡🧡

I hope you enjoyed your reading Ladies, gentleman and other, good afternoon good evening and good night.🦖🧡

#male reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin x reader

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Sin Summer (Soap) Rating: E(MDNI) Word Count: 2.7k Tags: Soap x f!Reader, tinder au, oral (m and f!receiving), throat fucking, messy sex, masturbation, breath play, D/s dynamic, public play, spit play, piv sex, fingering, dirty talk, pussy slapping, meet and fuck, pwp, reader sleeps around and no one blames them Summary: Six days ago you were in Glasgow, it's really not a big deal. Part 2, Part 4

(Six days ago, Glasgow)

“Cannae say ya been to Scotland if ya don’ have a few tablets.” John tells you as you stare at the sort of caramel colored cube he handed you. He’s got a whole bag of them tucked in his pocket. You shrug and bite into the cube, it’s sweet, very sweet. Sweet enough to make your teeth hurt a little, so you pop the whole thing in your mouth and enjoy the way the sugar melts on your tongue. “Good yeah?” You nod, and he passes you another.

So far this is one of your more tame tinder dates. You’re more of a late evening kind of adventurer, but John had insisted on taking you out proper. Something about making sure you were properly wooed before he started “in on you”. Makes you feel a little like you’re going to get murdered, but he assured you he’d lose his commission if he did anything that stupid. So here you are, being shown around town and treated to all sorts of goodies. Properly wooed.

This guy’s gotta be a freak.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask, taking in the scenery of the city.

“Dinner, drinks” John hums, “chains, whips.”

“Seriously?” You laugh.

“Awright,” John laughs, “No chains an’ whips, I’ll stick with mah hands.” You bump your shoulder against him and he loops an arm around you.

“I’m all yours, as long as it’s fun.” You tell him, playing into his joke. You’re a sucker for a pretty face, always have been, and it makes your cheeks heat to meet those angel blue eyes and crooked smile. John tugs you a little closer against his side, squeezes you tight so it’s hard to walk. It makes you giggle, and lets you feel all the lovely muscle he’s hiding under his pull-over.

“Never had any complaints,” He brags, “but I won’t treat ya too rough.” You laugh when he presses a wet smacking kiss to your temple, pushing at his face to get him off. He lets you go only long enough to swat your ass, grabbing your hips and pulling you back against him as soon as you swear. The sting is perfect, not enough through your jeans, but promising.

“My safe word’s applesauce,” You joke. John’s low hum, his eyes lidding as he looks you over, makes you think he’s not joking.

“Practice it for me, pet,” He half orders, and your mouth goes dry. He pulls on dominance with just a roll of his shoulders. No shit this guy’s military, every inch of him commands respect. He grips your chin with his fingers when you take too long, moving your jaw for you. “Applesauce,” He coos, “say it.”

“Ap-” You clear your throat, resist the urge to lick your lips, “applesauce.”

“Stick out your tongue,” He tips your head back as you open your mouth and show him your tongue. Someone passes you on the street, their voice as they talk on their phone barely reaches you except to drop heat into the pit of your stomach. John spits on your tongue in the middle of a busy street and your skin blazes with heated shame. “Swallow,” His voice vibrates through you and settles with a burst between your legs, you close your mouth and swallow thickly, opening again to show him you’re empty. John smiles, tips your head one way then the other to inspect. “Good girl,” He coos, and you could melt right there.

“Maybe we skip dinner,” You mumble. John drags his thumb against your lips, leaning back to force you to lean more heavily against him. You don’t think you could even keep yourself standing if it weren’t for his firm grip.

His smile is blinding, you have to blink to keep your eyes focused on him, but his voice drips low like honey down your spine, “That’s what take-away’s for.”

“Be better if I had a proper leash,” John hums, looping his belt around your neck, “Doesn’t have the same yank to it.” He pulls the end of the leather hard, the thick metal buckle snapping tight against your neck. It’s a fun sort of pull towards him that makes you want to pull back, the squeeze around your neck evenly distributed across the leather to be only slightly uncomfortable. “Green pet?” He asks and you give a thumbs up.

“Green sir,” The words drag pleasantly against your tongue, been a while since you had anyone fun to play with, “Not my first time doing this.”

“Alright then, on your back, head over the edge.” John directs, nodding towards the bed. His grip on the belt loosens enough that you can pull the end from his fingers as you get settled. Normally you consider stripping part of the fun, but for now you’re thankful John had you get undressed before he started collaring you.

You tip your head back, arms on either side of you, fingers twisting into the sheets, and open your mouth. You know the drill. John laughs, and leans to grab his belt again. The dark leather in his tight fist is attractive, and the gentle pressure on your neck makes your head spin. Not choking you, not yet, but the threat is there. John unbuttons his pants tugging his cock free. Shower, you think. He’s big, but still only half hard. It doesn’t matter when he feeds you his cock, easing into your mouth as you lave your tongue against the head. You reach up with your hand to grip the base of his cock, and he pulls the belt tight.

“No hands pet,” He warns, and you slide your hand up his stomach instead. Card your fingers through the dark curls leading up to his belly button, tracing the lines of his abs with careful purpose as you swallow around his cock. The belt loosens and you open your mouth a little wider. John pulls back, and you swirl your tongue around his head, sucking hard at the sensitive glans.

You can feel his cock stiffening with each shallow thrust into your mouth, warming you up for the main event. You suck greedily at him, never let it be said you don’t give a mean blow job. You worship his cock as best you can. You stroke your tongue over his length, hollowing your cheeks to encourage him deeper. You can feel the muscles under your fingers holding back, but you wish they wouldn’t. John works himself deeper with every roll of his hips, testing your gag reflex until he’s satisfied you can take him.

He pushes into your mouth, his hard cock stretching out your throat with a pleasant burn. You do your best to swallow the discomfort, dragging your tongue over his length as best you can. He stops there, his cock down your throat and his balls knocking against your nose. He invades your senses, the smell of his sweat and musk filling your nose with each breath, your eyes starting to water from the angle, you scratch his stomach, trying to find something to hold onto. You feel him lean into the touch. Then the sharp sting of him slapping your clit. You squeal, the noise muffled by the cock in your throat, and scramble to get away from the feeling, which only pushes you further onto his dick.

John hits you again and you can’t do anything but twitch. The belt around your throat tightens warningly, and you whimper around him. His hand rubs down between your legs and drags slick up over your aching clit. He slaps you three times in rapid succession, each one harder than the last. Your eyes roll a little, and you take a sharp breath. Again you’re made dizzy by the smell of him, masculine enough to tickle your nose.

“Getting all worked up over a few slaps,” John tuts, clicking his tongue as his fingers rub over your cunt, “look how wet you are for me already.” You whine around his cock, feel it drag out of your throat and over your tongue as he pulls his hips back. You lick his length desperately when he leaves your mouth, kissing his cock between breaths. He rocks his hips against your lips, smearing your spit over your face. You tip your head a little more to catch his balls as he moves, sucking at the sensitive skin and dragging your tongue through the wiry curls.

“Proper slag,” He groans, you can feel his fingers wrap around his cock, his strokes bumping your chin, “givin’ my balls a spit shine, while I abuse your pretty pussy.”

You make an affirmative noise, opening your mouth wide to suck one of his balls into your mouth. Your eyes do roll at the next smack, and you can hear John groaning as you moan around him. The spark of the slaps is starting to drip out of you, your cunt clenching with each strike. The noise is different too quick, your wetness smeared eagerly over your pussy with each rub of John’s hand. It’s not enough for you. Your stomach tight and hot without the trigger to send it over the edge.

You give John’s balls a final kiss, enjoying the spit that sticks to your mouth as you pull away. “Make me gag,” You beg, licking at John’s fingers as he strokes his cock, “please.” The belt tightens again, too quick for you to think what you’re saying wrong. John’s fingers hook in your cunt, tugging at your pussy and tilting your hips for himself. You shiver, do your best to breath while darkness fuzzes your vision. Your head swims, pleasantly warm, as your carotids are squeezed. “Please, sir.” You amend, though you’re not sure you want to.

“There you go,” John mumbles, the belt loosening as the man pulls back to push into your waiting mouth with one solid motion. You gag, constricting unpleasantly around his cock. You feel the rush of spit in your mouth, the drool you can’t swallow down that drips out over your lips with each thrust of his cock. You moan around him, grinding your clit against the heel of his hand. John clicks his tongue again, and the sound shudders through you. All hot and heady.

He spanks your cunt raw as he fucks your throat, and you feel all the tightness in your stomach unwind like the snap of a rubberband. Orgasm shivers up your spine, and you feel yourself flutter around emptiness. It’s wet and warm, and John doesn’t stop just because your legs are shaking. You writhe against the bed, your feet scrambling for purchase. It hurts, it’s too much. You smack John’s stomach and he stills. Your stomach flips as his hand stops its assault, only for his come to flood your throat. You gag again, and swallow desperately.

It’s not worth it, he pulls out to paint your face. His come hits your tongue, then your chin, then over your chest. You don’t bother swallowing the drool and come that he leaves in your mouth, letting it drip out of your mouth and over your cheeks.

John pulls you up off the edge of the bed by his makeshift leash and you attempt to get your libs to work while your brain is trying to play catchup. “On your knees,” He orders you, and you flop forward onto the bed. You push your hips up, feel John knock your knees further apart, his fingers pushing into your pussy. You flinch away from the feeling and he pulls you right back. “Color?” He hums, twisting his fingers against your sweet spot.

“Green,” You moan, trying to avoid coming on his fingers immediately. You’re too sensitive from the spanking, clenching on his fingers as soon as he starts thrusting them into you. If John’s opening you up he certainly doesn’t take his time with it. His thrusts are quick and targeted, his fingers hitting your sweet spot until you feel a gush of wetness slick them. His hand leaves you and you do your best to keep your hips up. “Fuck,” you groan against the sheets, “please-” The rest of your sentence is lost with the feeling of his cock pressing against you.

You push back against it, feeling the nudge of it as it pushes against your entrance. Thick and tempting. John holds still for you, lets you try and pop him inside before his hips snap against you and you gasp, tightening around his cock immediately. You close your eyes and press your messy face against the bed. Fuck he feels good, stretches you just enough to feel it.

The drag of his cock against your walls is warm and rough, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You love when they do that. Makes the slight ache of being fucked hard that much better. He hits something deep and zappy in your stomach. You let out a tight whine, and press back into the feeling, trying to get him to do it again.

“Know how to make me feel good, don’t you slag.” John rumbles, his voice rough and deep. You nod, feel the wetness on your face dragging over the sheets. John pulls the belt tight, forces you to arch your back as you lift your head, “Can’t hear ya’,” He coos, “I said-”

“Yes,” You moan, the ‘ss’ pulling long and fricative as he fucks you at a brutal pace, “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Fuckin’ pleasure to use,” John’s voice fuzzes in your brain, your eyes unfocused as you stare at the wall over the headboard, “take my cock so well.” The smack of his thighs against yours hurts, his balls knocking against your already abused clit tick the tight heat in your stomach a little tighter with each thrust.. He’s bigger than you, stronger the way he pulls you back with just a belt. You clench on his cock, another gush of slick easing his thrusts. “Just like that, pretty little cunt, fuck am gonna come.”

You push back against his cock, feel his thrusts grow erratic as his pace speeds up. He comes with a sharp intake of breath, and lets go of the belt to let you fall onto the bed again. You shiver against the sheets, and try to catch your breath as he pulls out. Fuck. You didn’t come. You’re still wound up for a third.

You shove a hand between your legs and rub at your clit. “You’re jokin’,” John gapes. You ignore him, rocking against your fingers as you finally feel yourself cross the edge. You let out a shaky breath as your stomach jumps, your pussy fluttering and your legs shaking. You whine for yourself, rubbing your clit until your hips jump away from the feeling. You can feel John watching you as you drop your hand back against the bed with a sigh.

There’s a long moment of silence. You don’t particularly care what John thinks, but you could do without the quiet. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue lick a broad stroke over your dripping cunt. You’re quick to grab his short cropped hair and pull, as he wiggles his tongue against you.

“Good boy,” You purr, keeping a tight grip on him as he cleans you up.

(Now)

“You know him?” Ghost tips his head at the man in the doorway. It’s the first time you’ve noticed that he isn’t wearing his mask. He looks good. Handsome even with the scars that cut across his cheeks. The sort of handsome that makes men confident even when they can’t show their face. You get a little distracted looking at him, take long enough answering that he glances at you. The smile you earn, the soft chuckle as he turns and knocks his finger under your chin, is worth it. “Back to me baby,” He tells you, and you take a breath.

“Could ask you the same thing,” You smile back. Ghost hums, something sparking in his eyes that you can’t place.

“Johnny,” Ghost calls over his shoulder, John’s shoulders jerk back, the scot standing at attention, “Close the door.”

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eyesxxyou · 5 months

Text

❝ teddy ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader

❝ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❞ teddy bear humping, teasing, humiliation, penetrative sex

Hobie’s off doing Spider-Man stuff more often than not, it’s just a part of the job, as difficult as it is, but you’d grown to accept it. You miss him, a lot, but there are ways to get around that when he just simply can't be there to hold you the way you need him to.

You have a secret teddy bear you sleep with at night. It’s a huge thing, about half your size, dark brown, and fluffy. You had dressed it up just like Hobie, piercings and all, called it his name, misted it with his cologne, and pretended it was him at night when you cuddled with it. It was a shameful little thing. You kept it from Hobie, knowing he would tease you relentlessly for it if he ever found out about it.

It was your mistake falling asleep with it. You hadn't meant to. The faded cologne that clung to its fur and clothes made it so easy to drift away into slumber. You felt safe and safe meant sleepy.

Hobie had a habit of coming to your flat after a night of patrol, just as the sun would crest over the horizon. He’s come, crawl into bed with you, and sleep with a snore that could wake the dead.

That didn't happen this time because you had so blissfully forgotten bear Hobie on the bed and fallen asleep in your wait for Hobie Hobie to come back and sleep throughout the day with you.

You awake to a deep, guttural chuckle, eyes fluttering to open as your hazy vision cleared and saw Hobie standing over your bed, staring at bear Hobie with a grin on his dark, beautiful lips. “Wha's this then?” He motioned to the clear replica of himself in bear form you were all cuddled up with.

You scrambled up in bed, you eyes flickering between your two Hobies. “I- I uhm…”

“Do ya hump it?” He asked, such a Hobie thing to ask, tossing it back down on the bed in front of you. His lips curled when you didn't respond, cashing your eyes away from him with your fingers fiddled aimlessly with each other. “My fuckin’ days, ya do.” He laughed again, thoroughly amused by the situation and your utter embarrassment.

Hobie grabbed the bear, picked it up under its armpits and lifted it to examine it. “This me?” He asked as if the answer wasn't obvious. He wanted to hear you say it, say that you have a bear replica of him just to further your humiliation. Your face heated with embarrassment as you nod once. “Yeah…”

Hobie was silent for a moment, staring at it. A sick thought entered his head.

“Go ‘head, show me then. I wanna see.”

Before you know it, Hobie has you naked and on top of bear Hobie, straddling the thing that looks so innocently up at you. He’s behind you, large, rough hands on your hips to guide your motions as you rut your hips on rough fabric of bear Hobie's pants.

You moan softly as Hobie’s hands grope at your body, your hips shuddering against the rough fabric of your favorite teddy. Your back arches, body rolling while Hobie kissed at the shell of your ear and whispered soft obscenities to you.

“Ya think ‘e can do better than me?” He pushes your hips forward and back, forward and back, your leaking out all over the poor thing, ruining the fabric you would inevitably have to wash later as you always did. “Hm? Does ‘e make ya moan louder than me?”

You whimpered, craning your head around to look at him only for Hobie to spank you softly on the soft flesh of your ass. “Don' look at me, look at Hobie, doll.” He makes your hump and rut and fuck against your precious companion, all for his greedy eyes to take in and enjoy.

You’re cries are soft with humiliation, fingers gripping the soft plush of the teddy to keep it still beneath you while you fuck yourself against it. Hobie chuckles in your ear. “Fuckin’ pathetic, really.”

And when you cum, you make a mess of the thing, leaving your poor Hobie and wet and sticky with cum. Its face remains unchanged, just as innocent as before.

You’re forced to stare at it as Hobie gets you on all fours on top of it and eases his cock into you. You’re made to kiss it’s nose and tell it you love it while Hobie fucks himself into your pretty little hole. His cock slides against that sweet spot that makes your body shudder with the throes of another quick, shivering orgasm.

“Look at Hobie, luv. Look a’cha favorite lil’ boyfriend.”

#across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman #hobie brown #hobie brown my love #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown smut #hobie smut #astv hobie smut #{drabble}

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primaviva · 5 months

Text

PUCK YOU

featuring. hockey!ellie williams x fem!reader synopsis. after winning the final game of the season, ellie wants you to join her in celebrating in the locker room. warnings. descriptions of the female body, suggestive content, hardcore making out ( i. e. breast play, grinding, hair pulling…) read at your own discretion

eighty six—the number that defined your girlfriend's prowess on the ice.

it was the number you witnessed gliding effortlessly across the frozen surface, scoring goals with a mighty grip on the hockey stick. it was the number you saw when her frustration reached its peak, her helmet flying across the room, marked unmistakably with that bold eighty six.

and now, as you watched the game unfold, you proudly donned the same number on your back. the vibrant red jersey draped your frame in a comfortably oversized, boyfriend-style fit. originally ellie's, she had lovingly given it to you, fully aware of your affinity for wearing her clothes, with the added sentiment that it’s her team jersey adorning your figure as you cheered her on during games.

in the highly anticipated matchup against the seattle krakens, ellie found herself facing off against her arch-nemesis, abby anderson, who always seemed to harbor an unspoken animosity towards her. perhaps it stemmed from abby's envy of ellie's successes in the industry, or maybe it was fueled by a longing to occupy the same position. whatever the reason, their encounters invariably generated newsworthy headlines.

ellie was well aware of the power of making headlines, understanding that the public loved a good rivalry. the crowd, amused by the tension between ellie and abby, eagerly absorbed every moment of them clashing on the monitors. well, everyone but you. unlike the spectators, you knew the toll it took on ellie. while you delighted in witnessing the furrow of ellie's brows and the intensity in her evergreen gaze, you understood the weight of her anger, knowing how overwhelming those emotions could be for her during gameplay. ellie also just didn’t like getting angry, as she knew how terrible she could get when succumbing to the emotion.

as the game against the seattle krakens reached its exhilarating climax, the scoreboard displayed a tense deadlock. "ellie" and "abby" reverberated through the arena, transforming into a fierce battle of vocal support among the spectators. the names echoed through the crowd, each fan fervently chanting for their favorite player to emerge victorious.

you leaned forward, leaning over the barrier that separated the passionate crowd from the icy battleground. eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle, you yearned for a front-row view of the action.

"kick her ass!" your voice rang out, carried by a surge of adrenaline as you fervently waved your hands in the air, willing ellie to triumph with every fiber of your being.

with each stride, ellie's instincts took over. in a swift, fluid motion, ellie seized control of the puck, effortlessly maneuvering past defenders with her unmatched skill. among the sea of opponents, her eyes locked onto abby, her greatest rival, who relentlessly pursued her, driven by a desire to strip ellie of the puck. with precision and agility, ellie danced around abby's relentless advances, her stickwork a symphony of finesse. the crowd watched in awe as the two players engaged in a thrilling duel, but with a burst of speed, your girlfriend left abby in her wake, weaving through the defense.the crowd held their breath, captivated by the scene before them.

the ice seemed to tremble beneath her skates as she closed in on the goal, her heart pounding in her chest. time seemed to stand still as she unleashed a powerful shot, puck sailing through the air and evading the outstretched glove of the goaltender, finding the back of the net. satisfying, it reverberated with a resounding thud as the puck found its mark, securing victory for ellie's team. the arena erupted in a chorus of thunderous cheers, the crowd's jubilation mirroring the euphoria in ellie's own heart.

as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the intense match, the spectators began to disperse, their cheers fading into the background. ellie along with her team members, elated by their hard-fought victory, eagerly made their way to the locker room to celebrate.

that was the routine of those games. the teams would go to the locker rooms to change out of their gear until they come back out to wait for their bus which left a little later as the coaches made sure the media got some press with the stars of the teams. you would wait for ellie outside of the lockers to greet her with a well deserved kiss and hug before it was time to hit the road.

however, what wasn’t apart of the routine was ellie taking much longer than her teammates, to the point where everyone had left the lockers to go outside and get some fresh air in the dark night sky. usually ellie was eager to get out of her sweaty uniform and lay flat on the floor in relief that it was over, one time she had practically taken her shirt off before leaving the rink.

as you contemplated walking inside, dina, one of ellie's teammates, approached you with a knowing look.

"dina, where's ellie?" you inquired, crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly awaited her answer.

the raven-head sighed softly, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding to your anxious state. "she's still in the locker room," dina replied, voice laced with empathy. "she needed a moment to calm down. it got pretty intense out there."

your heart skipped a beat as you took in dina's words. you knew all too well how overwhelming emotions could be for ellie, especially in the aftermath of a fiercely contested game like this one. without a second thought, you made your way towards the locker room.

as you entered the dimly lit space, the air was heavy with exhaustion. and there, in the corner, you spotted ellie, her figure slumped on a bench, her equipment scattered haphazardly around her. the sweat glistening on her forehead and the lingering fire in her eyes showed you all you needed to know.

her distant expression revealed a mind lost in deep contemplation, seemingly oblivious to the world around her, including your presence at the doorway.

"ellie," you softly called out, breaking the spell of her introspection.

in an instant, her head snapped up, the fog of her thoughts dissipating as a radiant, toothy smile graced her face. it was the kind of infectious grin that only ellie, with her unique brand of endearing quirkiness, could effortlessly rock. rising from the bench, standing tall as she strode purposefully towards you.

closing the distance between you, ellie enveloped you in her strong arms, lifting you up effortlessly off the ground. her face nestled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath sending gentle shivers down your spine.

the world outside the locker room faded away—as she held you, you could feel the weight of the game lifting from alongside her.

"there you are," she murmured against your neck, her voice muffled but happy nonetheless.

amidst stifled laughter, you attempted to speak. "did you hear me cheering?" you managed to ask.

"how could i not hear you, baby? you were the loudest one out there," ellie retorted, another smile gracing her face. she loved how supportive you always were of her. "thank you for always being there for my games. it means a lot to me, having my beautiful girl cheering me on."

tenderly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her pale green eyes brimming with warmth and love. on the field, ellie exuded toughness and fierceness, but with you, her armor melted away, revealing a softer, caring side that you brought out in her.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her remark about being the loudest, preferring to describe her as passionate. "you good?" you asked, your gaze fixed on her as your vision readjusted from being taken to the ground. "i know how much it gets to you when abby tries to rile you up during games."

ellie let out a sigh at the mention of abby. "i'm fine, don't worry about her," she replied, her voice laced with frustration, her hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck.

but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her body seemed to hold onto the irritation caused by abby's actions.

"thanks for checking on me," she expressed, her voice softer now. ellie leaned down, resting her forehead against yours, and released a deep sigh. it felt as if she were fully surrendering her body weight onto you, relying on your support. she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

you weren’t buying tickets to her act.

as you studied her face, you noticed her tightly shut eyes and the creases forming around them. "i find it hard to believe you're okay. you look exhausted. sit," you firmly stated, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back down onto the bench, encouraging her to rest.

ellie sighed and didn't resist as you made her sit back down on the bench. as tough as she was, she knew better than to argue with you when you used that tone.

"you know me too well,” ellie noted as she relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, closing her eyes. you always seemed to see right through her facade of being fine. the game had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

you sat there, quietly observing her presence. the sheen of sweat adorned her forehead, causing strands of stray hair to cling to the sides. her skin appeared moist, a clear indication that she had recently stepped off the rink. your eyes remained fixed on her, capturing the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale and exhale, a rhythmic cadence that grew slower and more deliberate. as you watched, your mind couldn't help but wander, envisioning the strength and definition of her abs concealed beneath her jersey. surely, the intensity of her performance left her core muscles taut and sculpted.

"will you sit with me for a bit?" she questioned, opening one eye to look at you hopefully. ellie just wanted a few quiet moments with you before the crowds dispersed. your presence alone seemed to ease her fatigue.

you nodded silently, a wordless affirmation of your unwavering support, before settling down beside her. her eyes attentively followed your every movement, capturing each subtle motion as you took your place next to her. she kept her gaze fixed on you, her emerald eyes shimmering in the softly lit room, as if trying to memorize every detail before finally closing them, her head finding solace against the wall.

"i really do appreciate you," she spoke amongst the silence. reaching for your hand, she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon it.

ellie, the dominant force on the field, always had a calm vulnerability in your presence. you provided the equilibrium she needed, a balance that no one else could offer.

you couldn't help but giggle at the sensations elicited by her tender kiss on your hand. "don't thank me," you playfully responded, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "come on, let me help you get undressed." as you rose from your seat, you noticed a devilish smirk on her face. "i didn't mean it like that, so don't even think about it," you emphasized, walking between her open legs as she sat, firmly grasping the bottom of her jersey.

she teasingly placed her hands behind your thighs, as if mockingly trying to keep you in place, before finally relenting and allowing you to proceed with removing her from her sweaty uniform.

"you know i can’t help myself around you," ellie playfully remarked, punctuating her words with a wink. however, as you tended to her, ellie surrendered herself to your caring touch, feeling the tightness in her muscles melt away.

she raised her arms, a silent invitation for you to remove her jersey. with gentle and skillful movements, you carefully pulled the fabric over her head, revealing the glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin. moving on, you deftly unfastened her shoulder pads, followed by her elbow pads. the expression on her face spoke volumes, a mixture of relief and gratitude as the weight of the protective gear was lifted from her.

ellie grinned up at you, thoroughly enjoying teasing you even when exhausted. you were just so cute when you got flustered. but she resisted making any other suggestive comments as you helped remove her pads and gear. she could tell you were going into protective girlfriend mode to take care of her.

as the last piece came off, ellie sighed in relief. "god, that’s so much better, thank you. i feel lighter already." she pulled you closer between her legs so your bodies were pressed together, though mindful not to squeeze you too tightly in her tired state. the tension began to ease from her muscles.

you just had that calming presence which soothed ellie's nerves. just being close to you helped her unwind after the stress of competition. she leaned back and closed her eyes contentedly.

"come here," ellie beckoned, extending her arm towards you, her desire for your closeness evident. "i just want to hold my girl before having to sit through a three-hour bus ride," she joked, a bit of truth in her statement.

with hesitation and curiosity, you placed your hand in hers, uncertain of what she had in mind. but before you could fully anticipate her next move, ellie swiftly pulled you into her lap, enveloping you in her embrace.

the suddenness of the action surprised you, but as you settled into her lap, you felt a wave of warmth and security wash over you. nestled against her, you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

ellie wrapped her strong arms securely around your waist as you settled into her lap. she rested her chin on your shoulder and breathed you in deeply.

"mmm, there's my girl,” she whispered. holding you always made ellie feel centered. like the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you. she nuzzled softly against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin. "i love you so much," she spoke while holding you tighter, hoping you knew how much you meant to her.

ellie's tired muscles relaxed further as she embraced you. your presence alone seemed to ease the strain from her body. she rocked you gently in her arms, enjoying this quiet moment of intimacy.

"i love you too," you whispered in response, your words filled with nothing less of love. ellie's gaze locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she immersed herself in the depths of your eyes. in that intimate exchange, she sought to discover every shade, every intricate detail that made your eyes uniquely yours.

her hand, which had secured your waist, embarked on a slow and agonizing path up your back, sending a tantalizing shiver along your spine. it finally settled at the nape of your neck, her touch both gentle and possessive. with a firm grasp, she guided your head towards hers, closing the distance between your lips.

ellie kissed you softly yet deeply, savoring the feeling of your lips against hers. all the anxiety and frustration from the game seemed to melt away in your affectionate embrace.

she gently traced her tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance in a way that was loving yet dominant. her hand cradled the back of your head tenderly even as she pulled you in closer.

kissing you always made ellie feel possessive yet protective at the same time. like she never wanted to let you go. she loved you so fiercely it sometimes scared her. but she knew you were the only one who truly saw her for who she was—not just an athlete but a person.

as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a sensuous dance of desire, you became lost in the intoxicating rhythm. the magnetic pull between you seemed irresistible, drawing you into a world where nothing else mattered but her body. the wetness of her mouth and the mingling of saliva heightened the intensity, an unspoken language shared between you both.

when you reluctantly parted to catch your breath, a thin strand of saliva lingered, connecting you both momentarily. ellie leaned her forehead against yours, her breaths heavy and labored. her pale green eyes bore into yours, radiating warmth and unbridled desire. “i need you,” she expressed with a raw simplicity, her voice husky and filled with need. in your embrace, ellie found solace, the only place where true tranquility resided.

ellie craved an outlet, a means to divert her frustrations and escape the overwhelming demands of the game. and in that moment, there was no better distraction than being consumed by thoughts of you, her mind freed from pucks and goalies.

with a swift gesture, she wiped away the saliva from her chin before firmly gripping your jaw, drawing your lips back to hers. the kiss intensified, akin to the crashing of rough waves against a sailor's vessel. each crash left an imprint, and you could sense the tender fullness of your lips bruising under the passionate onslaught.

a deep, resonant moan escaped your throat, merging with the union of your mouths. your hands found purchase on her shoulders as you adjusted yourself, straddling her waist with a sense of urgency.

ellie growled low in her throat at your moan, arousal spiking through her body in an instant. she gripped your hips tighter, grinding you against her as your movements stirred her growing need.

kissing you deeper, ellie dominated your mouth with her tongue, possessing you completely. one hand slid up your back, fingers clutching possessively. the other tangled in your hair to hold you right where she wanted.

she kissed like she played—with a fiery intensity and competitive drive to claim victory. ellie poured all her pent up passion and longing into the kiss, asserting her dominance yet caring for you completely.

when you finally broke apart again, panting heavily, ellie gazed at you with lust-darkened eyes. "fuck, baby, you're so hot,” she groaned, nipping along your jaw and down your neck, leaving her mark.

ellie was throbbing with want, craving the intimate release only you could give her after a game.

"ellie, did you forget we're in the locker room?" you began to protest, but ellie's touch interrupted your words, cupping your clothed boobs and giving them a slow yet tender squeeze. you hated how flustered she got you, especially when there were other people around. “cut the shit," you pleaded, but deep down, you knew that you were just as eager to help ellie find release from her stress.

ellie chuckled low in her throat at how easily she could rile you up. your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils told her exactly how turned on you were despite your words.

with a mischievous grin, ellie met your plea while giving your breasts another b squeeze. "aw, come on, baby, don't pretend you don't love it when i get you all hot and bothered," she teased, her voice low and seductive.

ellie lived for the challenge of pushing your buttons and claiming your body as her own, even with others so close. the thrill of potentially getting caught only served to heighten her arousal.

she leaned in to nibble your earlobe sensually, "bet i can make you cum before we even leave this room." ellie's hand slid down your stomach to cup your clit through your jeans.

"what do you say? want to put on a little after show for me?" she gripped your ass firmly with her other hand, grinding you down against her. ellie knew all your secrets and weaknesses, and was more than willing to exploit them.

you couldn't help but mumble, "fuck," as your hands gripped on her hair. you moved in for another kiss without thinking twice as you were too needy to keep her mouth to yourself.

ellie kissed you hungrily, all her earlier arousal igniting into an inferno. she moaned against your mouth at the feel of your hands gripping her hair firmly. oh, how the girl loved it when you took charge and matched her dominance with your own.

it was as if she was starving for you, devouring your mouth possessively. she grounded up against your core, feeling how wet you were already through your jeans. ellie delighted in unraveling your composure and leaving you a panting, wanting mess.

her hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your ass to grind you down harder. ellie sucked your bottom lip between her teeth, nipping teasingly. she wanted you aching and desperate for her. your girlfriend loved how responsive your body was to her touch, how you melted under her.

breaking the kiss momentarily, ellie gazed up at you with eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so fucking hot. think anyone would notice if i made you come right here?"

she traced delicate patterns on your warm skin, teasing ever closer to your core. ellie lived to unravel you, reduce you to a flushed, quivering mess before claiming your pleasure as her own. she rolled her hips up in a slow, deep circle, applying delicious friction directly against your clit now. ellie was determined to push you over the edge before letting you leave this locker room.

ellie groaned at your nails scraping across her scalp, spurring her desire higher. she kissed you back fervently, delving her tongue between your lips to tangle with your own.

your desperate little noises only served to spur her on. ellie was going to thoroughly ravish you right here, right now, and to hell with anyone who might catch them. you were hers.

"you're gonna make a mess of your uniform," you managed to gasp out, your words challenged by hushed breaths and the rapid beating of your heart. in the grand scheme of things, her uniform should have been the least of your concerns, but your mind was clouded, rendering you unable to think clearly.

ellie chuckled low in her throat as you panted and squirmed in her lap. you were always so cute when she had you this worked up.

"that's what the showers are for, baby." she rolled her hips up in another slow, deep grind against your clit. ellie nibbled along your neck hungrily, branding you with love bites. "don't care about the uniform, i just want you,” she declared while kissing you hard, refusing to break eye contact as her hand slid under your low waisted jeans.

ellie knew exactly how to unravel you, where to touch to draw out your pleasure. she could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear as you ground yourself down against her hand. your girlfriend swallowed your soft moans, owning your mouth completely as your hips began to ride her expert fingers.

her hands slid under the famous eighty six jersey she lent you to caress and squeeze your breasts skin on skin. ellie tweaked your nipples between her fingertips, rubbing them into stiff peaks.

"bet you’re close already," ellie muttered. she kissed you fiercely, tongue plunging into your mouth in time with her grinding hips.

ellie was throbbing with her own needs but lived for your pleasure above her own. she would push you over the edge a thousand times just to see your blissful expression.

the hockey player took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

she smirked, loving how close she had you already. you began subconsciously grinding yourself on her through, back and forth as you sucked her tongue in your mouth. your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.

"that's it baby, ride my thigh. feel how wet you're making me?" she continued to talk you through, emphasizing her words by grinding up against your core once more.

ellie captivated your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. her hands gripped your ass possessively, helping lift and lower your hips.

“ellie,” you mumbled, the intensity of the moment consuming you, as rational thoughts and the ability to express them struggled to break through the haze of desire.

the brunette's head quipped up as soon as she saw your beautiful visage. it was one of her favorite things to do at these times, to simply observe the obscene looks on your face that she made herself, tight with pleasure.

ellie took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

“yeah? if you have something to say, you gotta use your words (y/n). so if you want it, then tell me you want to cum all over my hand while i fuck you right here,” ellie taunted, now nipping at your bottom lip, her husky voice dripping dominance and desire.

the words that escaped her lips left you stunned, rendering you momentarily speechless. your eyes watched her intently as she adjusted her stance against the wall. her every movement seemed deliberate, commanding your attention.

with trembling hands, you reached out to steady yourself against a nearby surface, the weight of her words sinking in as you opted for the wall behind ellie. as she moved her arm once more, your gaze followed. her strong fingers dipped past the fabric to tease your entrance eagerly. "come on baby, don't leave me hanging,” ellie ordered gruffly, knowing the sound of her voice could send you over the edge.

she held you flush against her body, grinding up to meet your every roll of hips. you swallowed each other's moans with deep kisses, tongues tangling erotically. ellie was determined to push you over the edge right here in this very locker room.

all of a sudden, a disruptive knocking sound echoed through the locker room door, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you both. a voice, belonging to joel, ellie's hockey coach, seeped through the other side, brimming with impatience.

"ellie, hurry up! the bus is outside, and our asses will leave you here to hitchhike if you don't come out in the next five minutes," joel's voice boomed, giving his last warning to your girlfriend.

you exchanged a knowing glance, the disappointment and longing apparent in your eyes. ellie growled in frustration as joel's voice interrupted your intense moment. of course, right when she was finally forgetting her problems, the problem came knocking on the door.

"shit," she muttered under her breath. ellie rested her forehead against yours as you both panted from being out of breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing, but the desire within you remaining unquenched.

"we're not done here," ellie whispered huskily, giving your ass a possessive squeeze.

louder so joel could hear, she called out, "yeah yeah, we're coming!" you tried not to laugh, but ellie giggled to herself, a sly smile on her face at the double meaning which caused you to roll your eyes.

ellie's lips pressed against yours for one final, ravenous kiss, a bittersweet taste that left you yearning for more. "we’re gonna finish this later, i promise,” she declared in a hushed tone, fueling what already thrummed between you.

with a playful slap on your ass whilst she got off the bench, ellie teased you, her touch electric against your skin. time was of the essence as you swiftly assisted her in changing out of her hockey gear and into more comfortable clothes.

the weight of disappointment settled upon both of you, and with mutual understanding, you tenderly brushed each other's disheveled hair back into place. gently, you attempted to wipe the sweat from each other's faces, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible. Not to mention, it was also severely embarrassing.

leaving the confines of the locker room, you stepped outside and joined ellie's teammates on the bus. taking your places among them, you immersed yourself in the multiple topics that would usually take place, ranging from animated discussions about the game to reflections on personal improvement and snippets of their everyday lives. or, they simply just talked shit about the other team and how stupid their name was—it could even go as far as saying how ugly and mismatched the team colors would be.

ellie knew you'd be aching for her touch until then. it would be a long, frustrating bus ride for both of you back to jackson. but the anticipation would make the payoff so much sweeter.

she knew she would get her after-game reward.

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

Text

THEY DON’T KNOW | e. jaeger

synopsis: your life and relationship in the spotlight seemed nothing short of perfect..that was until everyone else convinced you otherwise.

content + themes: slight angst, engagement/proposal, musician eren x influencer reader ofc, fluff, drama, mentions of infidelity, kissing, brief mentions of suggestive things, nothing heavy, just a sweet story for my favorite ship

word count: 3.2K

📝: this is for my sweet @honeybleed ‘s 90-00’s R&B collab event! (I’m a little late to the party, I’m so sorry about that! 😭) Congratulations to you again on 600, my love. You deserve every bit and so much more!

SONG 🎧: They Don’t Know • Jon B.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

noise…it all seemed so much louder than usual nowadays. Everything sounded so much more amplified now matter how hard you fought to drown it out. The music thudding from the speakers on stages that you danced on, the rain droplets splattering against your window pane and lately…the opinions of every envious naysayer and supposed friend alike.

Telling you that your relationship was a moot point. A mere sham and that in due time, it’d come crumbling to its core. Regardless how strong the foundation was between the two of you, outside forces could still cause it to shatter at any moment. But that was only if you allowed it. You couldn’t escape it either…every other scroll and headline on every media outlet was a photo of you two..some flashy shot of you two kissing and holding hands. Appearing happily in love, only to be followed by droves of comments full of negative and downright nasty things about you guys. Saying that it would never work and you were only a temporary thing who ‘just so happened to make it further than the rest..’ it certainly wasn’t a vote of confidence considering you were about to spend the rest of your life together. For the better part of three years, you had come to know and love the renowned artist, EJ the Don. A man who’s music transcended all of time and pushed boundaries..a generational talent with exceptional skill. At least those were the words used to describe him by a plethora of magazines over the years. On the contrary, others would acclaim that he was a bit of a playboy. That he hurt people at will with no regard for their feelings..sabotaging relationships purposefully so that he was no longer bound to them. He didn’t care about anyone other than himself.

However, you knew otherwise. EJ, as far as you were concerned, was an entirely different entity of itself. You had fallen for Eren..the man who’d leave the studio at night tired and exhausted but still managed to have fresh flowers and your favorite treats in hand. The man who’d curl up with you on rainy days and binge movies. The Eren you loved would comfort you relentlessly until you were far batter. Making you laugh and cheer up with the dumbest jokes..that’s the kind of person he was. So it came without question, when one night on the rooftop of a hotel in Greece; surrounded by fluorescent blue lights, a lavish table filled with wine and rose petals next to the serene pool waters where he asked you to be his wife, you’d immediately accept. Saying yes faster than he could get the proposal out. You were elated to not only spend the rest of your life with him but share the exciting news with the world and those you loved. To your surprise though, you weren’t met with the warm reception that you had pictured in your head.

once the announcement came, the rumors followed and there was no escaping them. Even so called friends were hesitant. Telling you that he used to go with this model and date this girl so it was best to watch out. Some even suggested calling the whole thing off to spare you from future heartache...and you’d be lying if you said that they hadn’t worn you down. That you hadn’t wondered if there was a bit of truth to them. But if there was anything he was dedicated to doing, it was setting your mind at ease and proving all of them wrong.

“…room for one more?”

the voice ringing from earshot and sending flutters throughout the pit of your belly. You’d flip over onto your side with a faint beam as your fiancé made his way over to you. “For you? Anytime..” Kneeling into the mattress as he brushes a hand along your bare shoulder blade, leaning forward to place a kiss on your temple. It seemed that the effects of the dreary, rainy day had taken its toll on him as well. Sporting a pair of sweats and a tank top, indicating that he was finished with his work for the day and ready to relax with the one person who brought him serenity. Ironically, there was something rather tranquil about weather like this..whereas most people saw it as something negative; a literal damper in their plans, some took it as an opportunity to purify themselves. Not so much in a literal regard but it was perfect to just lie here and let all of those feelings that normally wouldn’t make their way to the forefront be known. Coiling one of those toned, tattooed arms around (y/n)’s covered torso, Eren began to mumble into your skin..simultaneously leaving gentle pecks along your arm. “This rain kinda sucks, doesn’t it? It’s so depressing..” “..yeah..it is.” The dryness in your response caused an immediate alarm for your fiancé. That was the thing with Eren..even when it seemed as if he were completely nonchalant and not paying you much attention, he focused on the smallest details and kept note.

there were things about you that he had noticed early on in your relationship and still to this day, could remember them better than you could. “I see it’s already working on someone…” making an attempt at a light hearted joke and even smirking afterwards, hoping that his humor would bring at least a faint smile to your face. He hated seeing you like this..hated knowing that something was obviously bothering you and you wouldn’t tell him the cause. In fact, he picked up on it three days ago when he saw you sitting outside near the pool, glaring off into space at what seemed to be nothing. In the same regard, he wasn’t the type to pry..he knew how irksome he felt when someone pestered him so he figured it best to wait for an opportune moment to confront you. Now seemed like as good of a time as any. He never did well with communicating his feelings either so he used jokes and humor as a means to break the proverbial ice. But luckily, he wouldn’t need some awkward segway because you’d ask him something that would make his stomach turn.

“..do you think we did the right thing?”

admittedly and rightfully so, he was a little confused. What ‘right thing’ were you referring to exactly?

“As in what?”

“Getting engaged..moving in together. Are we really meant to be here?” The words seemed to be spilling from between your lips as if they had been sitting there for quite some time. It was a little insulting nonetheless. As if you had waited for this exact moment. But he’d be lying if he said that they hadn’t stung a bit. He figured the two of you were equally yoked and on the same page. Happy to be marrying your forever person. At least that’s what he felt..were you having doubts? Did you not love him as much as he loved you? What had he done wrong? Swallowing the hard lump that had instantly formed in his throat, Eren proceeded to ask questions, seeing if he could maybe get through to you to figure out what was wrong.

“Is there something that would make you think different? I mean, personally..I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real..”

for a moment, he began to reminisce on the moments leading up to the night he popped the question. Searching relentlessly for the perfect ring..enlisting the help of his best friends and even your girls to ensure that it was one that you’d love. He took extra special care to make the night unforgettable. Eren had even flown to go see his mom to ask for the gift she had given him years ago that he now wanted to give to you..if that wasn’t enough, he’d even taken you to your granny’s grave and asked for her blessing of sorts. He was a wreck, even crying because he was so happy and wanted her to know that he’d take care of you from now on..for the first time in his young twenty seven years, he was truly grateful and he wanted nothing more than to be the ideal man for you. A husband that you’d be proud of..one that you bragged to your friends about over lunch, one that you’d dip out on plans early to get back to. That was the type of relationship he had envisioned; one where nothing else mattered when you two were together. Now it seemed that you were having reservations..

“I’m so scared…” Just then, the sounds of your words were muddled by whimpers. He had no idea that you were this conflicted by the matter..and if so, why not say something?! Flipping you over, he’d be met with your beautiful brown eyes that always seemed to burst with love and excitement were welling with tears that were only moments from spilling. Brushing your cheek, Eren gazed upon you with a worried expression over taking his face. How could he have been so dumb?..here you were hurting and he hadn’t even clocked it. “Why, baby? I don’t understand..of what?” Truth was, you were afraid of marriage in general but even more so, if not being what you envisioned. You were afraid of things not being picturesque and perfect. That you’d wake up one day and end up just like the rest of the girls he’d supposedly dumped. Discarded to the wayside after he grew tired of them. You didn’t want everyone to be right about the two of you! Another passed around Instagram model with nothing of substance to offer, a philandering rapper with commitment issues..the headlines were certain to be brutal. But above all else..you only wanted to do this once. You only ever wanted to walk down that aisle one time in your life. You loved this man more than anything in this world so the last thing you wanted was to take his hand in marriage only to be sliding that ring off a few years down the road. It was a sacred thing and you never wanted to lose sight of that.

“Of this..of us not working out. I mean, I love you so much and there’s nothing I want more than to be your wife but everywhere I turn, it seems like somebody wants the opposite. As if we’re not meant to be. I thought everyone would’ve been as happy as we are. But it’s always something..”

granted, he was no stranger to the gossip either. Between his fangirls and the blogs, they wouldn’t give you a break. They were furious that someone had snatched up their precious EJ and it was some girl who seemingly came out of nowhere. According to them, you weren’t his type, you couldn’t possibly love him the way he deserved and there were at least ten other women who were more fit to take your position. It was insane. Although he was never much for social media and its sick antics, he’d done his fair share of defense for you. Which spoke volumes. After a while, he rid himself of all accounts and focused solely on you. Despite it being how you made your living, he wished you’d do the same. He couldn’t imagine petty accusations with zero basis being the reason that he lost you. It would crush him, truly. Even so, he’d done as he always had at times like these and pulled you close to his chest, swaddled you in those muscular arms and peppered your forehead with gentle kisses.

“Do you remember the first night we met? At the club?” It seemed like such an odd time to be going down memory lane but that’s how Eren was..he could tolerate a lot of things but seeing you cry was not one of them. So he wanted to try a different approach.

“I couldn’t forget. I had such a good time..”

“So did I..hell, I was so nervous around you, I almost messed up my whole performance that night.” The two of you break into a small fit of laughter as you look back on the antics of your earlier days together. The wild nights, the hookups, the tension leading up to you making things official..it was all a journey. You’d find yourself giggling as he held you close to him. You seemed far more comfortable and vulnerable now; able to express your feelings more freely. Which was a great thing for him.

“Please..I couldn’t even concentrate. You kept teasing me and shit. I don’t know how I made it through that without embarrassing myself.” But alas, he’d think it was cute. Watching you stumble over your words, seeing you squeeze your thighs together when he switched up those steamier lyrics to fit you and when he ran a finger underneath your chin, you nearly collapsed! Being on stage with your celebrity crush was not for the weak..

“Yeah, but you did and do you remember what everyone was saying after that? All the bullshit they said about us?” It was something you’d never forget, truthfully. For days after, the infamous photo of you guys hugged up on a lounge couch in the VIP section circulated the web for an entire week. There were countless headlines, alleging that you two were an item, that you were hooking up..the game of telephone had become so terrible that three days later, stan accounts and grown adults alike had concocted stories of you two having sex backstage and him doing inappropriate things right there in front of everyone. Even so called ‘witnesses’ backed up the claims. Naturally, all of it was false but it still didn’t stop people from running with whatever narrative they saw fit. Despite the fact that prior to that appearance, you’d never ever laid eyes on this man, less known did all of the things they accused you of. You were complete strangers..again, it stopped no one’s rumor mill from running!

“Yeah..I do. All of it just sounded like people had too much time on their hands.”

but his point wasn’t quite driven home yet..still clutching you, he’d chuckle once more and just nod. “Mhm..and what about when we first started dating? Remember the dumb shit they said then?” Once again, you’d answer his question, giggling when you recalled how stupid it all was. From the accusations of him being nothing more than a pay pig for some lavish lifestyle they claimed you were flexing online. Or that he wasn’t really faithful because he did a show with a former ‘partner’, who was nothing more than a PR stunt to begin with. Nevermind the fact that she was a lesbian! “Like when they said you were cheating on me with your ex? Trust me, I couldn’t escape that one even if I wanted to.” “Which was crazy because she was way more interested in you than me. Even asked me for your number..” seeing his expression furrow into a silly pout and you couldn’t hold it together another second. You’d burst into laughter at the thought. “I’m serious! She got mad because I didn’t bring you with me..must think I’m stupid or sum’. Little Miss Hoes always pulled more girls than I ever could.” The mental image of a one hundred thirty pound, five foot four blonde stealing his potential prospects had you rolling around and in much better spirits. “You’re a mess, you know that?” Which was his one and only goal.

“Well I’m glad somebody found my lack of game funny.” But truthfully, the only woman he wanted was right here. Which was the entire point of this little roundabout trip down memory lane..it didn’t matter what happened back then or what people claimed to know about him..he only cared about what was to come. The life, the future that he was building with you trumped over anything that they could say. They didn’t know how drastically he had changed for you. How he was hopelessly in love..how much softer and compassionate he had become so he was a better man for you. Even when you weren’t around, his beloved (y/n) was the topic of conversation..oftentimes, his boys would make fun of him for how much of a ‘simp’ he had grown to be. How his voice changed in pitch when you were on the phone, his eyes radiating whilst talking to you..it was the cutest thing! So if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he was all in. He had no regrets or doubts about asking you to marry him. He was ready. Anybody from his past was a mere afterthought and he wasn’t missing out. All he could do was pray that you felt the same. Turning your head towards him, EJ looked you directly in the eyes and began to speak.

“Listen, princess..I know it isn’t easy. Being with someone like me. I’m not perfect..not by a long shot. Truth is, I was really selfish back in the day. I wasn’t thinking about anybody but myself. Hell, until you came along, I still didn’t. I had always told myself I’d never let anyone get close to me just so I didn’t have to worry about another person. Marriage, dating..seemed like a foreign concept to me..” this was the first time in his life where he was able to be vulnerable..where he could lay all of his emotions bare. Intertwining your fingers together, Eren pulled them close and placed gentle kisses across your knuckles. A comforting tactic for the both of you.

“But right now...there’s nothing else I want more than to be your husband. To keep making more of these memories..(Y/N), I couldn’t imagine doing this without you. I can’t take back what I’ve done or who I was. And I’m so sorry that you’ve had to be on the receiving end of it. But I don’t care about what happened back then or what they say about us. I love you..I love you so damn much. Please believe me when I say that.” By this point, faint traces of tears began to stream once more. You were no longer sad, hurt or worried but rather..relieved. Relieved that his heart was equally devoted to this as yours. You’d do whatever it took to make this work. Outside interferences and opinions aside..

“And I love you more, Eren. I promise, I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

No relationship was ideal and obviously, just like rainy days, bad ones were guaranteed as well but you could always weather the storm as long as you were together..

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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment.

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves.

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well.

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you.

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture.

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend.

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship.

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors.

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment.

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often.

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape.

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both.

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes.

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.”

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first.

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water.

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before.

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.”

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.”

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words.

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words.

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you.

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers.

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments.

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm.

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.”

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures.

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.”

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty.

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events.

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?”

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.”

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky.

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.”

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment.

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth.

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?”

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost.

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath.

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again.

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations.

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest.

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him.

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.”

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.”

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room.

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.”

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you.

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.”

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you.

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.”

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.”

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?”

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming.

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs.

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?”

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity.

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.”

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder.

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events.

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm.

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression.

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.”

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.”

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room.

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain.

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses.

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture.

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy.

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you.

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you.

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness.

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.”

“Goodnight.”

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers.

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress.

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again.

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness.

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy.

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm.

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand.

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well.

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?”

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.”

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue.

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes.

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear.

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat.

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out.

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper.

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him.

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.”

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt.

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory.

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname.

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare.

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.”

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn.

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.”

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?”

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?”

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you.

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides.

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all.

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words.

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both.

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours.

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist.

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck.

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up.

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box.

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees.

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band.

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease.

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band.

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy.

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips.

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.”

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours.

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.”

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagines

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voglatte · 4 months

Text

⊹ ┊HOMEMADE ꒱ .ﾟ

↷ ˊ- pairing: bf!esteban kukuriczka x gf!reader.

warnings: mucho fluff, sugestivo, age gap? (solo 5 años), size kink?.

summary: esteban vuelve a casa cansado del trabajo y lo sorprendes.

• dani’s typing… ! adoro a kuku, amé escribir esto.

no era sorpresa para ti las llegada de esteban a horas de la noche, ya que se encontraba en un proceso de audiciones para una nueva película. aún así estabas un poco preocupada por la salud de tu novio, podías ver el cansancio en sus grandes ojos marrones y pequeñas ojeras debajo de ellos, pero aún así con cansancio siempre te veía con esa sonrisa cálida que poseía.

por lo que decidiste hacerle un pequeño detalle, antes de que llegara a casa. pusiste manos a la obra haciendo una rica cena para ambos, enorgulleciéndote al ver el resultado final y esperando que a él también le gustara.

estabas dando los últimos detalles cuando sentiste un aroma muy conocido para ti y unos brazos masculinos rodeándote desde atrás.

“¿qué hacés, bonita?” murmuró cerca de tu oreja mientras resguardaba su cara en el espacio libre entre tu cuello y hombro.

te hizo sacar una pequeña risita al sentir su respiración haciéndote cosquillas.

“una pequeña sorpresa, para vos” decidiste encontrarte con su perfilado rostro cuando te volteaste viendo un pequeño brillo en su mirada, lo que hizo derretir tu corazón.

él no lo había dicho con palabras pero sus ojos mostraban todo el agradecimiento que sentía en ese momento y pensaste que no debería porque lo harías mil veces más solo por verlo así.

“te amo, bonita” dijo cerca de tus labios luego de conectarlos con los tuyos, un choque bastante dulce e íntimo.

susurraste un “yo también” entre besos y decidiste alejarte un poco sin antes dejar un pellizco amistoso en su nuca donde se encontraban tus manos entrelazadas.

ambos se sentaron en la pequeña mesa que adornaba el salón mientras escuchabas con atención cada palabra que salía de su boca, podría hablar por horas y nunca te cansarías de escucharlo, su voz te daba paz, una sensación que te llenaba el corazón de todo lo lindo en el mundo.

sus manos se encontraban encima de la mesa, su mano sobre la tuya acurrucándola mientras su pulgar daba caricias. la otra simplemente se encargaba de llevar uno que otro bocado o líquido para pasar la comida.

“estoy muy seguro que me van a dar el papel, amor” su voz sonaba con mucha seguridad y entusiasmo.

“no tengo ninguna duda, bonito. tenés un don único y tu manera de actuar es deslumbrante” asegurabas, te sentías tan orgullosa de esteban y como de a poco se iban abriendo puertas en su carrera de actor, era algo que le gustaba e ibas a estar ahí para él siempre, apoyándolo.

al terminar y con un sabor agrio pero dulzón del vino en sus bocas decidieron acomodarse en el sillón de cuero que adornaba el hogar de ambos. colocó tus piernas encima de sus muslos, su mano haciendo pequeños masajes en ellas.

“¿te acordás de cuando nos conocimos?” su cabello caía salvajemente por su frente y le daba un toque bastante tierno.

tu solo dejaste salir un sonido con la garganta afirmando mientras tus mejillas se calentaban. esteban te miró sonriendo y dejando escapar una carcajada pequeña.

“vos eras una nena” recalcó, haciéndote sentir más avergonzada.

esteban y tu se conocieron en una clase de teatro, en ese momento tenía veintiocho y tú solo 23, aún así siendo una mujer adulta, esteban se burlaba diciendo que eras una nena chiquita.

“no digas más, no sabés lo nerviosa que estaba cuando me tocó improvisar contigo” tus manos taparon tu cara, devolviéndote al momento donde tu lengua se enredaba por tener a semejante hombre delante y sin conocerlo.

esteban al ver tus mejillas sonrojadas y tus labios carnosos haciendo puchero, no logró controlarse y te cubrió con su gran cuerpo.

intercambiaron miradas y sin ninguna palabra de por medio sus labios atacaron los tuyos, parecía que se estaban comiendo sin ningún pudor.

a esteban le encantaba ver lo pequeña que te veías debajo de el.

sus besos bajaban desde tus labios hasta tu cuello dejando pequeñas marcas adornándolo, sus manos un poco frías se metieron debajo de tu camisa pellizcando sin llegar a ser brusco.

“divina sos, amor” levantó un poco tu camisa y bajo un poco para dejar muchos besos en tu abdomen, a veces con mordidas incluidas que te hacían chillar bajito.

“dale, nene” acariciaste su cabello. “subí, debes estar cansado, podemos dejarlo para otra ocasión” hablaste suave mientras sentías a esteban recostar su cabeza en tu abdomen.

“un poco” dijo, tú no lo sabías pero cada caricia que dejabas en su cabello lo hacía quedarse cada vez más dormido.

los ojos marrones de esteban se empezaban a sentir más pesados por lo que ninguno habló, solamente dejaron que el silencio reinara. hasta que sentiste una respiración tranquila y sabías que ya había caído en los brazos de morfeo.

te sentiste feliz de haber pasado un rato distinto con esteban, estaba más que claro que ambos se amaban hasta el infinito y era un amor puro.

así mismo con tus manos en su cabello que en ningún momento dejaron de darle pequeñas caricias, tus ojos se empezaron a cerrar con una sonrisa en rostro por lo feliz que estabas.

———————————————————————————

by ﹫ VOGLATTE ╱ bueno aquí un one-shot? maybe súper cortito pero prometo hacer otros más extensos .ᐟ

#esteban kukuriczka #esteban kukuriczka x reader #society of the snow #lsdln #la sociedad de la nieve #enzo vogrincic #fanfic #voglatte post .ᐟ

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dreamcubed · 9 months

Text

me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

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babyonboard · 2 months

Text

in sickness & in health | Don Hume x f!reader

Summary- nursing Don back to health. Part 1?

Warnings- fluff, talk of being sick (fever, nausea, etc.)

Word count- 2.2k

Fiddling with the thermostat, silently begging it to go lower, you glanced over your shoulder. Don was laying in bed, his eyes closed and his breathing slow. The sweat on his forehead was visible, and you could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed in discomfort. Giving up on the temperature, you decided on another course of action.

This was not a part of your plan for your trip to Germany. You had been ecstatic to receive an invite, of course you would be there as a nurse, but you didn’t think they would actually need you. Yet, here you are, desperately nursing the stroke of the team to health. Now, it felt like it would be your fault if he didn’t get better, it would be your fault if they lost. You were beginning to wish you never accepted this position.

You should be in the audience of the olympic opening ceremony right now, where you had originally intended to be. Yet, here you were, digging through the bathroom to find a washcloth.

“Here we go.” You spoke under your breath, pulling a washcloth out of a drawer. You wet it with cold water, praying that this method would lower his fever.

Don stirred when you sat on the side of the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. He mumbled a response that you couldn’t make out.

You set the wash cloth on his forehead, his eyes cracked open. “How are you feeling?” You asked softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Mmm.” He hummed. “Not that good.”

You nodded and subconsciously continued to stroke his hair. “You think the medicine from earlier helped at all?”

He shrugged lightly. “A little.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes half lidded.

“What else can I get you?” You noticed how warm his head was, wondering if his fever had gone down at all.

“Nothing.” He said, closing his eyes again. “I’m okay for now.”

“Nothing at all?” You asked. “I could get you something to eat. Anything in the world.”

He stirred. “I don’t think I can eat right now. But thank you.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded softly and even though the conversation was over, you stayed for a moment. Observing his face, he truly did not look good. Your heart sunk a little, you only have a day and a half to get him feeling better before the race.

Despite his protest, you still went and got him food, he hasn’t eaten all day. Some crackers and a little bit of juice won’t hurt him. He was awake when you got back, sitting up in bed, reading a book. “Hi.” You smiled.

He gave you a classic Don nod. No words, no smile, but you knew he was hard to crack. You didn’t know Don personally before all of this, but you’ve seen him around before. He’s shy, always trying to fade into the background, but that’s never how you saw him. He always stood out to you, his sweetness, his quiet charm, that was the Don you knew. So you didn’t take his quietness personally.

“What are you reading?” You asked absentmindedly.

“Oh… um…” He stuttered. The embarrassment drained whatever color the sickness had left his face.

You looked at the book, and realized it was yours. “Oh, I don’t care.” You waved your hand. Although it is your copy of The Great Gatsby, annotated and all, he could read it. The sweet, lanky boy in the bed could have ripped it up and burned it and you would still tell him you didn’t care.

“Sorry.” He closed the book and set it on the nightstand. “Just bored.” He croaked, scrambling for an excuse.

“Don, you can read my book. It’s okay.” You smiled. He folded his hands and looked down at the bed. You had no idea why he was so flustered, but that wasn’t your main concern right now. “I brought you something to eat.” You extended the small plate of crackers to him. He stared at it, then at you. “Don, you need to eat.”

He took a breath in, then silently grabbed the plate. “Thanks.” He spoke quietly.

You nodded, then sat on the end of the bed. Much to your delight, he slowly began to eat the crackers. It was silent while he did so, and it never crossed your mind that it might be weird to sit there and watch him eat, but you couldn’t help it.

“I saw the boys in the lobby. Opening ceremony went well.” You spoke into the quiet room.

He nodded. Once again, no words.

“They were all asking about you. Wondering how you’re doing.” You smoothed out the quilt, accidentally running your hand over his leg as you did so.

“What’d you tell them?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“I told them you’ll be okay.” You looked at your lap. That could most definitely be a lie. If he kept at the pace he was going now, there is no way he would feel better by the race.

“I will be.” He reassured you, almost sensing your hesitance. You nodded in response, and it was quiet again. “Thanks for helping me, by the way. Probably would’ve died by now without you.” He cracked a small smile.

That was the first time you had heard Don make a joke, let alone smile. “Of course, Don. That’s my job.” You smile at him, his deep brown eyes holding you in a trance. “I’m… more than happy to do it.”

“Happy?” He blinked. “I’m sure you don’t like doing this.”

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in my position? Taking care of the stroke of the olympic team?” You giggled.

His brain scrambled for a response. “I… that’s just not true.” He shook his head out of insecurity.

“No, Don, it is.” you spoke assertively. You weren’t lying. Don was a hot topic of conversation, right behind George Hunt, of course. “Girls love you.”

He couldn’t tell if he was lightheaded from his fever or the thought of you talking about him with your friends. “W-what?” He stuttered out.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “You’re the sweetest guy on the team, everyone knows that. You should’ve heard everyone after you played the piano at the victory party. They love you, truly.”

He blinked a few times in disbelief. He must be having a fever dream. The doll who sat exactly 6 rows behind him in his biology lecture was sitting on his bed, her hand on his leg as she told him how many girls love him. He could hardly form words.

It made you giggle, his shyness. You could see the blush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “All I’m saying is, I think I’m a pretty lucky girl.”

Words failed him, his brain failed him, all he could focus on was the way you squeezed his leg over the blanket as you talked. He hardly even heard you ask if he was finished eating. You took the plate from him and set it on the nightstand, exchanging it for your copy of The Great Gatsby. You held it out to him, his eyes meeting yours, hoping you didn’t see the slight shake of his hand as he grabbed it from you.

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll be back. Do you need anything before I go?” You asked.

He shook his head and looked down at the book in his lap. While you were gone, he was able to read a few chapters, but he found himself paying more attention to your annotations than he did the words of the actual book. He particularly liked the smiley faces you wrote next to the scenes you liked. He found himself rereading Gatsby and Daisy’s kiss scene that you had underlined in purple ink. It made him blush, thinking about you reading this part. He ran his fingers over the purple ink over and over again, thinking about your hands delicately underlining it.

His eyes grew heavy as he read, and he eventually thought it would be a good idea to get some rest. He fell asleep thinking about the kiss scene, switching out the characters with himself and a certain nurse who happened to be taking care of him.

The lights were off when you returned, and you could hear his heavy breathing, indicating that he was asleep. Of course, you wanted to let him get his rest, but you needed to take his temperature one last time before you went to sleep. Trying to wake him up as gently as you could, you rubbed his back softly. That didn’t work, so you moved your hand up to run through his hair. His eyes cracked open at the feeling of your fingers twisting in his hair.

“Hi.” You whispered, scratching his head lightly. “Can I take your temperature?”

He nodded and hummed a yes, and you brought the thermometer to his lips. You tisked your tongue when you saw that it read 101, it had only gone down one degree since this morning. “It’s still pretty high.” You whispered, not surprised by the lack of response from him. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer, make sure you're okay.”

He sleepily nodded and closed his eyes again. You ran your fingernails softly up and down his back. The room was quiet, but you could hear some light chatter and music coming through the open window. By the way he was breathing, you could tell he was no longer sleeping, but you continued scratching up and down his bare back, hoping to bring him a little bit of comfort in his sick state.

There was no way Don could fall asleep, not with the weight of you sitting next to him, especially not with the feeling of your fingers on his back. Despite his fever, he swore he had goosebumps from the feeling. He would get this sick every day for the rest of his life if it meant he got to keep receiving this treatment from you.

You have no idea how long you sat there scratching his back, occasionally making your way up to his hair to scratch his head. It went on for a while before Don spoke up begrudgingly, saying “You should get some sleep.”

A deep sigh left your mouth. Yes, you should sleep, but you felt a duty to watch over him. “I need to stay with you for a little longer.” You reassured in a whisper.

Maybe it was his fever messing with his head, maybe it was because he felt so bad that you had to stay up with him, but Don did something out of pure instinct, knowing that you needed to sleep. He lifted the blanket that was covering him and scooched over in the small bed, making room for you. He nodded as a gesture for you to lay down. “You should sleep.” He said softly.

Your heart swelled at the sight. With no protest, you slid right next to him under the covers. Don could hardly believe what he just did, but he couldn’t be happier that he did it. Neither of you were sure what to do, of course both of you wanted to wrap the other up in your arms, but neither of you did. Just laying there, next to each other, hearing the other breathing and feeling the heat radiating from the other's body was enough.

On something of a confidence streak, Don noted the absence of your hand on his back. “Can you keep scratching my back?” He said softly.

Saying nothing, you smiled and ran your hand up his back. His reaction was noticeable, his whole body relaxed and his eyes fell shut. He unintentionally fell asleep almost immediately. The exhilaration of laying in the same bed as Don kept you awake, but you were more than happy to lay there rubbing his back until you fell asleep in the hazy hours of the early morning.

#don hume #the boys in the boat #don hume x reader #don hume imagine #don hume fanfiction #don hume fanfic #don hume fan fiction #don hume fic #the boys in the boat imagine #the boys in the boat fic #the boys in the boat x reader #the boys in the boat fanfic #the boys in the boat fanfiction

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umadosedepascal · 3 months

Text

W I N N E R | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | PART VIII

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.

wc: 2.9k

rating/warnings: [a little drunk] [one spit][take a shower together][ride on thigh][Pedro begging in Spanish][little fluffy][Smut][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f]

a/n: This was kind of a request. Enjoy whoever asked us for it! And sorry if there’s any mistakes on our English.Pedro was freaking HOT that night MY GOSH!Consider commenting and reblogging if you like it!

Its been a busy beginning of the year, Pedro has a lot of work going on and you as well.

You can barely see each other but when there's an opportunity to meet you just jump on it by him invinting you or just to be there at the same event.

When he won the People's Choice Award you just had to call him congratulating for the winning, and while you were talking he told you he was going to fly back to LA for SAG awards and really wanted to see you before come back to Canada.

That news made your day, and you had a good feeling that he was going for good.

Unfortunatelly you couldnt attend the award not even the after party for other reasons but you kept texting insanely each other during the event.

Pedro P: Hey honey, I'm already here. drinking some Casamigos with awesome people, wish you were here...

You: It's ok babe, have fun tonite! I bet you going to win and we can celebrate later..

Pedro P: Not sure, my dear. Kieran is taking them all 🥲 can't wait to see you later tonite.

You are laying on your couch with pajamas watching the award and his category comes up with an surprisingly announcement. Pedro wins, you start screaming on your apartment like your team scored on final championship.

DAMN, you are so proud of him and turn up the volume just to hear his speech loud and clear. Well, wasn't one of the best ones but you swirl your glass of wine bitting your bottom lip while he is saying he is a bit drunk and tear up with him as he mention how important this is for himself.

You realize is time to get ready to meet him, you let the TV on while going to take a shower and hear he's back live with Tan on backstage interview. It looked like more shenanigans than possible. The moment you hear him saying he would make out with Kieran and this is his revenge you automatically raise your phone for a sassiest nude pic and send him..

You: So, you want to make out with me or him? 🤣

You know he is buzzed and feeling the moment and know his not going to reply so soon but still piss and laughing at the same time.

After a couple hours you get a message

Pedro P: Mine or yours?

You: Inside me

Pedro P: This is what I wanted to. I will be there in 20.

You: Come to me Don Juan

Pedro P: haha 🤣

It's 1:30 am and you debating with your sleep just to keep yourself awake and see that Chilean Don Juan appear in front of your door. To keep it up you still drinking and looking at the app because he always share his location with you. Not to bother, you just wait with patience and see its moving faster. Means that he is coming towards your place. Your heart starts to accelerate and definitely you cannot wait to see him holding that heavy award on his hands..

You live in a quiet neighbour in West Hollywood, nothing happens like the crazyness on the other side. You sit in front of your door wearing a comfy robe when his car approaches the street.

"MAMA I WON!" He screams while getting off the car

You are like "SSSSH Pedro! It's 2 in the morning..😂"

Pedro holds you leading you back to your house and closing the door behind him.

"I'm so proud of you, even you saying those things on live TV, you were so funny, light and emotional. Can you believe I cried when you got on that stage saying anything but everything?"

"Yeah I, I, I was drunk babe..haha"

He leaves his award carefully by the door on the floor and when he comes back up to you his hands are already on your thighs sliding up giving you shivers and taking off your robe for good. Pedro holds the back of your neck while licking on it tracing a pat to your right ear saying "I win twice tonite huh..”

He grabs your hand and make you feel his hardon throught his pants, you let out a soft moan and rub your hands harshly on him, your mouths meet each other in a sloppy wet kiss. You can feel the taste of tequila and his tongue is tender and he is gentle on you.

You keep on your toes and whisper in his ear "are you sure this is all for me? Isn't it for Kieran or the other thousand people you wee flirting P?"

Pedro looks at you, those brown eyes getting darker, he raises an eyebrow and moves away from you, your heart beating faster when you see that man going to the middle of your living room.

Pedro stops and looks at you,

"Do you really think my cock is hard like that because of anyone other than you and this tight pussy?"

Each word Pedro was saying, he was opening a button on his shirt, so slowly that you felt your legs soften with every inch of skin that was emerging in front of you.

"Eyes on my dear, tell me, do you know how hard I got when I saw that pic you’ve sent me? How did I have to disguise it by holding my award?"

The last button is undone and Pedro takes his clothes off quickly now just on his undies. He sits in the sofa, legs open, he pops out a cigarette, you face him petrified, the way Pedro takes your living room, how this room seems ten times smaller and warmer with him there.

Pedro lights up the cigarette and drags it slowly, his head falling on the back of the sofa.

"Come here mama" he pats his left thigh twice. The view of him with the cigarette hanging on his lips, shirtless, the slightly reddish skin, the curls on his forehead, and those eyes that look like a burning brown sea drives you crazy.

You sigh, approach and ride on his left thigh.

You take the cigarette out of his mouth, take a drag and land on the ashtray.

While making sudden movements on his thigh you hold his jaw squeezing his cheeks and say "so, it means we have a winner here..." putting two fingers in his mouth, he sucks them and say softly.. "go down, I want to see how wet you are for me" you obey with a peck on his lips.

Sliding down your left hand through his hot chest giving a quick pass through the bulge over his boxers. the feeling is very hot and pleasurable..moving the fabric away from your panties you dip one finger only and move back into his mouth.

He opens his mouth slowly giving permission for you to pass on his lips and that was enough for him to hold the edges of your panties and strip down making you get up quickly and get rid of it.

Sitting back again on his thigh and making more abrupt movements and wetting him completely, a feeling of drowning, a smell of sex and expensive perfume with the taste of tequila coming from that mouth.

Pedro guides your hand to his cock and asks with some difficulty to caress him the way he likes it.

You drag your nails through the contour of his cock, the wet fabric of pre cum shows how Pedro is looking forward to you. You stroke his thighs, going up and down slowly, feeling how his skin chills, how his stomach contracts when your fingers get close to his cock.

You take back the cigarette and drag looking at him, your head falling to the side, watching how he seems lost and anxious.

“You look so beautiful kneeling to me," Pedro says taking the cigarette off your fingers.

Biting your lip you hold the sides of his undies, Pedro raises his hips helping you, the fabric going down his legs, you throw it to the floor.

Pedro holds his throbbing cock with his right hand, uncut, thick and veiny with a swolen red head looking like a huge strawberry, he makes movements up and down.

"Déjame sentir esa boca mama. Please" he says with half close eyes and husky voice.

You approach and hold his cock over his hand, squeezing and feeling how he pulsates. You lick the wet tip of pre cum, looking into his eyes you slowly suck only the tip, Pedro takes his hand off the cock and holds the armchair stroking it, cursing softly while you lick and teases him with your tongue.

"You're so hot, I've been wishing to suck you all night" before Pedro can answer you put his cock in your mouth, feeling the tip hit your throat, you feel him pulsating on your tongue, the bittersweet taste of the pre cum invading your throat. Pedro runs his hand in your hair, moving in circles encouraging you to swallow more, you choke but don't take him out of your mouth.

"Shit! I love it when you do that. Don't stop!"

You look into his eyes, Pedro wiping the tear that accumulates in the corner of your eyes. You take him out of your mouth just to jack him off while sucking his balls, Pedro throws his head back and moans loudly, no caring if anyone will hear him.

"Gosh! You're going to kill me"

You go up with your tongue licking his length, until you reach the tip you swallow it again feeling Pedro grabbing your hair tightly, guiding how he wants to fuck your mouth.

"Por favor…”

You feel that Pedro is about to cum in your mouth, with a pop you let it go and ask looking up at him "will there be a second round, babe?"

With his eyes closed and his mouth half open he nods a yes and you grab him again passing his tongue with more intensity on the frenum. He lets out a dense moan slightly squeezing the sides of your temple and arches his hip releasing jets of hot cum in your mouth. Pedro's moans get louder as you swallow his hot juice by sliding your nails on his thighs making him having goosebumps.

You get up and sit again on him facing front, caressing his graysh beard and kissing his neck and corner of mouth. He mouths a lazy smile biting his lower lip and says "I want more, I don't want it to end like this today without me satisfying you..."

Pedro looks at you from the corner of his eye, pointing to your bedroom.

“..taste you Ma’am..."

Lifting you up on his lap, you interlace your legs on his hip and he goes towards your bed throwing you into it and opening your legs with his knees.

He starts kissing your knees looking up at you, going down to your thighs alternating between each one licking and giving light nibbles, sometimes some bites that will leave you marks making you complain with pleasure "stop, Pedro"

"Stop?"

"No, no, keep going.." giggling.

This time Pedro went straight to the pot licking the sides of your folders, holding your hips pulling you to him so you can reach his curly hair, already messy and sweaty.

He fucks you with his tongue, grunting while smearing himself from you, you feel your pussy pinching with his beard constantly scrubbing against your skin. he alternates between licking, and sucking on your clit leaving on the edge.

"Cum to me babe, you're so delicious... I missed you"

You feel your pussy contract, squeezing, your stomach on fire, a hot numbness taking over your body. Pedro moans against your pussy while sucking on it, begging you to cum for him.

"Cum in my mouth cum in my whole face, babe"

Pedro spits onto your pussy, a long line of saliva while his eyes do not detach from yours. He fucks you with his tongue, his pretty aquiline nose poking your sensitive clit.

"Pedro! Sn't it!" You shout his name, cumming on his tongue, his hands squeezing you, snakeing your body, leaving scratches.

"Every day more delicious" Pedro crawls on top of you, finding your lips he kisses you, you feel his hard cock again against your thigh.

Pedro moves away kneeling on the edge of the bed, you don't even have time to assimilate before you feel him pull you by the ankles, causing your legs to curl around his waist.

Pedro holds his cock hard cock with his right hand and rubs the tip against your swollen clit, you moan when he slide the tip in your pussy.

"So fucking tight..ah”

He takes off and stimulate you again, and so he does one, two, three times teasing you.

"Please papi, fuck me…"

Pedro growls looking at you, he holds his cock by the base and push into you. You two moaning together, that little pain mixed with pleasure taking over your body, Pedro seems like a sex God, a fallen angel looking at your pussy while

fucking you deep, his lips half-open, the side vein of his neck pulsating, drops of sweat accumulating on his forehead...

Pedro grabs your waist, sitting on the bed and rolling you on top of him. He holds your ass making you rub on it, the feeling of his cock so deep in your pussy.

You lean on him, sinking your mouth into his sweaty neck while he already without forces slaps you in the cheeks holding firmly making you move up and down. with a low grun he lifts you slightly and fucks you even harder. the sound of skin to skin and his moans mix while he pumps you in order to reach his climax but you give in first leaving his cock wetter and slippery, making it escape more than once from inside you but he quickly guides his hard cock again inside until he grabs you tight on your waist and cums hot inside you saying cursed things. You quickly shut him up kissing him roughly.

The kiss turns sloppy, and decreases as your lungs fight for air.

Pedro kisses your jaw, his tongue passing through your neck, leaving a bite on your right shoulder. He lies on the bed, still with his dick inside you, he smiles as if he were high. You watch him, his eyes closed, the satisfied smile on his lips, the curls of his hair now completely wet with sweat.

You bend over and kiss his collarbone, raising your tongue to his neck, feeling the salty of his skin. Unique.

"Are you trying a third round?" He says opening only one eye and looking at you. You laugh coming out of him, immediately missing the feeling of his cock inside you.

"Come, take a shower with me"

The bath is relaxing, the warm water falling on you, Pedro kisses you while you pass the soap through his body, it is sensual and calm.

You tell him to turn around, passing the soap behind his back, leaving a kiss on the back of his newly operated shoulder, he laughs and turns to you, kissing your lips calmly, taking advantage of every inch of your mouth. It's so relaxing that you feel your muscles give way every time he hugs you next to his body.

While you talk and get dry, Pedro tells you about how he doesn't remember anything of the speech, that he was so nervous and happy that he just said what came to his mind, and blames himself for not having thanked more people.

"You made a beautiful speech, Pedro, I’m serious"

He smiles and holds your hand.

"Can I ask for something? Can you wear my shirt? From the minute Julie gave it to me, I imagined how beautiful you would look wearing it. Hah”

You smile at his request, nodding your head giving a quick kiss on his lips, you send him to bed and run to the living room. You just see chaos, clothes thrown on the floor, ashtray, glass of drink and TV on. You find the shirt on the couch, you put it on not wearing anything underneath, leaving the same amount of buttons open that he left during that night.

The moment you head to the room, he brought the trophy to the bedside table and catches your attention, you take it, looking at his name engraved, smiling, happy for him.

"Papi I’m a winner!" You mimic him when he told you in the early evening, raising the heavy trophy.

You walk slowly to the side of the bed, leaving the trophy on the bedside table. Pedro climbs his right hand down the back of your thigh, gently squeezing your ass, looking at you while his left hand plays with one of the buttons on the shirt.

"Jesus, you look so sexy! Much better than I imagined. Come here" Pedro whispers looking at you.

You know exactly what that look means. The night will really have no end.

———————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedrohub #joel miller #dieter bravo #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel

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magecrafts · 11 months

Text

MENACE

natasha romanoff x reader ; you've never been more helpless. nat likes you best like that.

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, cnc, unsafe bdsm practices, no aftercare, somnophilia, heavy choking, one single mention of medical kink

RATED E FOR EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT ; 18+

a/n: i think i remember how to do this. cheers.

Natasha Romanoff is grumpy when you meet her (and sporting a week’s worth of insomnia under her eyes and wearing a tee that’s a little too tight, too, but as appealing as both of those are neither endears you as much as her furrowed brow and little frown).

Two weeks later you’re on recon with her, some assignment dropped into your lap an hour before wheels were expected to be up.

“You’re going into the field, rookie,” Stark told you, and, “Romanoff will babysit you, but if you’re as good as your resume claims you shouldn’t need her.”

Recon only. No engagement unless necessary.

The two of you post up in a slimy cave high in the mountains, half a mile above the entrance to a long forgotten mine that may or may not be the newest hideout of one of Stark’s most-wanted. It’s a stupid assignment, Stark could have sent drones, but you reckon he just wants to see how well you do with bullshit assignments, last minute takeoffs, and taking orders.

“Could be fun,” Natasha says, dangling a flask in front of your face.

“Is this a test?”

She smiles.

An hour later you’re tipsy and breaking a protein bar in half to split for dinner.

“I know this is bullshit,” she says, and to her credit she does sound apologetic, “but Tony likes to test people. He wants to see you prove yourself, you know, make it known that you’re as competent as you are on paper.”

You can’t say that’s not fair. This is, after all, no nine-to-five, but, “How am I supposed to prove myself when there’s fuck-all to do?”

Natasha laughs.

An hour later Natasha’s her own stoic version of piss drunk, you’re far worse off, and you’re staring at each other with a vigor that would scare the hell out of you even if she weren’t your immediate supervisor.

But you’ve always liked fear.

You make the first move: you crawl onto her lap, sink down against toned thighs, and tuck in. Her lips are warm, softer than you’re used to, and she doesn’t protest. She licks into your mouth and clamps her hands around your thighs and though you’ve never crossed a boundary like this before, you can’t see yourself ever going back.

Natasha makes the first move next time.

When she asks you out for drinks the week after you return you assume the address she sends you will be a bar.

It’s her apartment.

Bold.

She answers the door in black fatigues and a tank top and takes you right to her bedroom, sinks down on the edge of the California king, and puts you on her lap. She likes you there, where she can reach all of you, where your chest presses up against hers, and your mouth is right there for the taking. She’s gentle until you push your hands through her hair and tell her, “You don’t have to be so nice, you know.”

She’s never gentle after that.

She likes throwing you around, and likes that you can take it, knows it makes your heart flutter and your cheeks flush when she reminds you time and again how much stronger than you she is. On your back is how she likes you best, with your legs spread open and your knees pushed back as close to your chest as they’ll go.

Sometimes she’ll clamp a hand around your throat and dig her nails into the soft skin beneath your jaw until you can’t breath and you’re clawing at her arm and your vision’s starting to go. Sometimes she won’t let go at all, not until you slip away and your body slackens and she’s left fucking a fake cock into your helpless cunt.

You don’t know what she does to you when you’re out cold until she starts to film it.

Filthy fucking videos, those are, full of her laughter and your inability to protest while she does things like stuff her fist into your sloppy hole or perform a full pelvic exam wherein she dons rubber gloves and leaves you gaping around a speculum far longer than any licensed practitioner ever would.

“Look at you,” she’ll say later after she slaps you back to consciousness and queues up her newest video, “you’re so easy to break.”

It’s easier when you come back to with your mouth empty; when she brings you back and you’ve still got your own panties stuffed into your mouth she never lets you pull them out to catch your breath until she’s had her fun holding you down while you struggle to regain your hold on the world.

Sometimes you wake back up on your own while she’s in the middle of things. You either love or hate those times the most, but you’re never sure which.

“...doesn’t matter if you don’t want it,” she’s saying this time, and she’s blurry above you (and there are three of her and three sets of nails carving jagged red lines down your torso, but you know there will only be one of each in a minute or two), “gonna fuck your whore pussy anyway and you’re going—to—take—it.”

“—Nat—”

“Look who’s awake.”

You can hear the smirk in her voice, can see the bright white glare of her cell camera, and you’re sure you look like hell and that she’s going to give you shit for that later, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Stark should fire you,” she says. “Maybe he will once he finds out you’ve been getting your stupid hole stuffed on camera for months. Or maybe he’d like your little videos. Maybe he’d even want a turn with you, huh? Would you like that?”

No, but only because by her rules you're not allowed to think about anyone else like that.

But you can't say that, not unless you want her to go and make it happen. You learned long ago that Natasha Romanoff is nothing if not genuine in her threats.

“Maybe I would,” you say, low and hoarse, and it almost sounds like a growl.

She finds a pressure point and digs in, and, “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” she says, and you’re out again.

The next morning you wake up to the sun cutting through the window and warming your bare back, waking with you the memories of the night before and bringing it all to a boil in your belly. You want to relive them. You want her to fuck you again, to stuff you full and flood you with desperation and desire.

She pulls the sheets from your body and flips you onto your back, coasting a hand up your shin as she settles at the foot of the bed.

“Show me your pussy,” she says, soft, mocking, like she’s requesting the easiest thing in the world from the dumbest little thing she’s ever met.

Your knees part, legs falling open without thought, and you can tell the slick between your thighs from the night before is still there.

She lifts her brows and looks.

“You look sloppy,” she says, pulling your lips apart and dragging a nail over your clit. “Let me make it worse.” She slaps you before you have time to think and though it hurts it’s the lingering sting that pulls a cry from your throat. It’s been a while since she’s hit you like this, between the thighs, where the shame hurts worse than anything else.

The next time you see it coming, but you don’t stop her. You don’t even bother to keep your legs from trying to clamp shut when she slaps your cunt for the second time, you just screw your eyes shut and force your legs open again because for that you know she won’t stop until you’re crying and begging her to do something—anything—to get you off.

It takes you a minute to focus up when she’s done, to familiarize yourself with the steady throb between your legs and the warm pressure of Natasha pushing something into you.

She’s kneeling between your legs, hands clamped around your thighs to keep them apart as she lazily fucks into you with a cock as thick as your forearm.

“Look at that,” she says with a little laugh. “Even when you’re looser than a ten-cent hooker I can still find something to stretch you out with.”

And you know she can feel you clenching as she tries to ease out, like you’re pulling her in, and if she were any man she’d be spent in sixty seconds or less, but her stamina knows no bounds and even as your hole gushes with relief she’s still driving into you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagines #marvel imagines #rated: e #natasha #!fic #!darkfic

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jovialmoonprincess · 6 months

Text

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 1)

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Word Count: 992

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

A/N: First Fic EVER, dont be mean pls. Also Im not a english native speaker, sorry for any spelling errors. Just saw Songbirds and Snakes and Tom Blyth as President Snow is living rent free in my head! Feedback is appreciated! Follow or like (or both) for part 2!

A month still remained until the announcement of the Plinth Award winner. While Y/N was still somewhat sleepy, in the midst of summer, a brief and subtle snowfall danced outside her window. Believing she was still dreaming, the student got up, opened the window, extended her arm, and touched the flakes to make sure. It was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen; it seemed like magic. She felt the urge to run out and celebrate the arrival of snow, as she did when she was a child. Maybe the Capitol had created a new technology and was testing it in the middle of the night. It seemed like a plausible theory. Y/N closed the window and sat at the edge of the bed, still feeling the coldness of the ice on her fingers. It didn't feel like a dream; Y/N wasn't a girl who dreamed often either. The last time she dreamt, she was in a park in the Capitol, with her mother gently pushing her on the swing. The games were over, people lived happily again, all in one place, there was peace, and no one would go hungry. As a kid, Y/N had suffered through the war, something she wouldn't overcome. And even now, in a place without hunger, with clean clothes and in the best school in the country, she still wasn't completely happy. How could she be happy while people were dying outside? Y/N quietly prayed to herself that a good person would become president, and her dream could come true. For now, she could only study to become someone who could make a difference in Panem. Even if she didn't know where to start.

Y/N looked out the window, and as the snow fell, she returned to her slumber. She couldn't help but think of another Snow, one that still brought her fond memories. Y/N was an idealistic young woman, driven by the memories of war and the fervent desire to make a difference in Panem. Her father, a respected peacekeeper, had left a controversial legacy, but she strove to follow a path of kindness and justice. Her father died after a while from an illness that was never properly explained; Y/N was sure that the reason for his death was remorse—his hands had innocent blood, and he knew it. He withered away gradually, and on his deathbed, he declared his hatred for war and those who supported it. He died cursing the Capitol and its architects.

Y/N wanted to be a better person; she had this opportunity, had hope to change the world around her. Every day, while donning the Academy uniform, she mentally prepared herself to enter the snake pit that was that place. She couldn't pick fights with anyone, even though she wanted to desperately. She remembered how many fights she had tried to avoid only to end up completely ignored and still punished for her good intentions.

The snow falling outside brought back memories of a simpler time, before the fights and rivalries that marked her life at the Academy.

Y/N was beloved by everyone in school, even though she couldn't care less about those spoiled and corrupt rich kids. She couldn't stand them, but there was someone she detested even more: Coriolanus Snow. He wasn't like the others; his past was different, more similar to hers. And yet, he seemed to forget that. He only cared about his grades and not the people around him. They had fought several times since Y/N entered the academy. It was impossible for them to be in the same room without disagreeing about something. She still remembered their first fight when she asked her brother for help to finish a project of a class they were doing together, and they both ended up with the same grade. Snow, not content with just his top grade, found out and did everything to get the teacher to lower Y/N's grade. Insufferably arrogant. As beautiful as he was, he was despicable. After that, it got worse; he always reminded her that she was the second-best student in the class and that he was better, blah, blah, blah. He never even wondered if you cared about your grades. Apart from this obsession, he was nice outside the academy. You were good friends with Tigris; you loved her, and it wasn't because of Corio that you would stop seeing your friend.

Before all of this, Corio had been a nice guy a few times (most of them when he wasn't all pompous around his rich friends). You invited him to the winter ball before the first fight, close to your first anniversary in the Capitol. You danced all night, and he gave you your first kiss. It was quick, and you never talked about it again. Even that scene still gave you chills to this day. It was only after your grades increased and you began to stand out in class that he started treating you with a certain indifference. It was childish, and you felt a weight on your chest for not continuing with what you had, even if it was little. What was once little became nothing. You still saw Tigris from time to time, but Corio rarely left his room, where he had been locked studying for the last few months. You wished you hadn't left him hanging after the kiss, but you were so shocked and didn't understand your feelings. You couldn't distinguish the attraction you felt for him from the fear of losing a friend. Well, you ended up losing him in the same way.

The twist in her routine came when a mysterious woman, dressed in vibrant colors, approached Y/N on an empty street. Her words, filled with urgency, revealed a dark fate for Coriolanus Snow. Y/N, initially skeptical, saw her disbelief fade away when the woman offered an object that provided disturbing glimpses of the future. It was something like two watches joined by a golden chain. As soon as she touched it, she saw everything. It wasn't possible to hear anything, but it wasn't necessary.

The projected scenes showed an unrecognizable Snow: kissing a girl through a cell, then with buzz cut hair shooting birds in a forest, and finally, with his blond hair combed back, looking at the rector's corpse with hatred. She wanted to vomit. She didn't want to believe. Y/N didn't doubt Snow's ability to be a jerk; it had happened several times with her already. But it usually involved some petty ego fight. He didn't seem like a murderer. Y/N felt a mixture of disgust and disbelief. The arrogant antagonist of her school life now seemed destined for a path of destruction.

"Y/N, I know you're a good girl; they told me you'll be of great help at the moment, and even if you doubt me, you'll try to help everyone. The next years will be dark, you wanted your opportunity, and I'm offering it. In a month, important things will start happening in the timeline, and at certain moments, your participation will be decisive. When those moments come, you must intervene and use your intellectual and emotional intelligence to prevent the country's destruction." When the woman finally paused, it seemed like her brain still hadn't grasped the words. Y/N didn't feel fear from her; it was more like affection and compassion.

"Don't give up on him, Y/N. You know him. Even if he seems cold on the outside, I'm telling you there's still hope in something inside him."

Everything happened so quickly; in the blink of an eye, you were sitting in the cafeteria before class started with your snack in front of you, and your friends were completely unaware of your tumultuous mental journey.

"What's happening to me? Am I feverish, hallucinating for the past few hours? Everything feels like a horrible dream." She wondered, trying to distinguish the line between reality and the nightmare she had just witnessed. Her breathing was hurried; she must have looked like a lunatic. The crazy scenes still played in her mind. She wished to know what would happen, and especially who the girl passionately kissing Snow was. It wasn't the most shocking scene she had seen, but it was the one that bothered her the most for some reason.

The responsibility to prevent Coriolanus Snow's dark fate now rested on Y/N's shoulders. She found herself torn between disbelief and the conviction that something needed to be done to avoid an impending tragedy. The challenge was daunting, and the idea of helping someone she despised caused a deep emotional turmoil.

While facing this dilemma, Y/N knew she couldn't ignore the call of destiny. The month leading up to the Plinth Award became a period of anguish, both mentally and emotionally, for the mission she was destined to fulfill. The game of enemies would transform into a complex dance of redemption and understanding, and Y/N was about to embark on a journey that would challenge not only her convictions but also the limits of destiny itself.

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Thanks for diving into this story with me! Hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoyed creating it. Stay for more twists and turns! Cheers! 📖✨

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #president snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #enemy to lovers #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #fem reader #hunger games au

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