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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down.

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust. I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further. Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock.

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.

. . .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun."

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?"

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us."

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?"

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great…

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?"

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–"

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you.

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…"

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft?#is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

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zzprompto · 7 months

Text

☆ our teachers are gay?!

gojo satoru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: you and gojo are both teachers at tokyo jujutsu high. your students start catching up on little things about the two of you, coming to a conclusion that their teachers are gay, but is that the truth? (meant to be viewed as romantic, hints at an established relationship.)

the lowercase is intentional !

satoru and [name] had been teaching at tokyo jujutsu high for a few years now. the two have made memories, had laughs and even arguments during the time. the students loved their teachers, always finding them amusing.

this years first years were a first, though.

"he's definitely gay!" a student yells. "no, he's not! he definitely has a wife and two kids!" another student yells. the person that they were talking about? [name]. itadori and nobara were arguing about whether or not they thought their teacher was gay for their other teacher or not, whilst megumi just sat there listening to their bickering. nobara thought [name] was gay, whereas itadori thought he wasn't.

megumi just sat there, listening to his friends arguing. it was constant, but he knew it was just banter after all. megumi had a small smirk on his face as he listened.

megumi knew the truth, well, half of the truth. he knew of gojo's feelings towards [name], but he never knew of [name]'s feelings towards gojo. megumi and gojo were practically father and son, not that megumi would admit that, so he could tell how gojo felt. megumi was the only reserved first year, so he learnt to pick up on people's emotions and feelings quickly, which included gojo's.

it was clear, by megumi's perception of the world, that gojo was definitely into [name]. gojo always tried to, and not so subtly in fact, flirt with [name]. yet, it always ended up in [name] saying a bunch of curses with a red face. maybe [name] did like gojo back? but, how was megumi going to know? he's not [name] and maybe the red face megumi always saw was just his teacher embarrassed, not flustered.

megumi also noticed how close the two teachers were. there were always together eating lunch or talking or supervising training sessions where they also talked more. perhaps it was because they could only talk to eachother, they were the only teachers there excluding the principal. or.. maybe it was something else? it did seem like there was more of a rivalry going on between the two men in megumi's eyes, but who knew. only gojo and [name] did.

a certain someone clears their throat after hearing all the bickering down the corridor. "and what are you three talking about?" the voice asks, and it just so happens to be gojo. itadori and nobara are in big trouble now.

itadori looks at gojo in horror, already accepting that he's been caught. nobara just looks at gojo with a small, innocent smile, hoping itadori won't mess up and say something wrong.

"uhm.. we were just talking about [name]'s love life-" itadori starts before nobara jabs him in the stomach to get him to shut up. "we were discussing what places we can visit in tokyo during our days off!" nobara cut in. gojo had a smirk plastered on his face. it was so obvious that he knew the truth about what they were talking about.

megumi sighed and he rolled his eyes at his two friends. "you idiots.. look at his face. he knows what you two were talking about." megumi muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how stupid his friends were. "plus.. his six eyes probably sensed you guys were talking about [name] anyway." megumi decides to add his own snarky comment.

"ah, so my suspicions were true." gojo chuckled. "if you really want to find out more about [name], why don't you ask him yourselves? although, he'd probably want to punch me if you told him i suggested the idea.." gojo spoke his thoughts aloud.

as if on queue, [name] steps into the room with a confused look on his face. "what are you all standing around here for? i thought training was meant to start ten minutes ago.." he sighed, a hand resting on his hip. the three first years all look at eachother before rushing out of the room to go to the field.

[name] just shook his head as he watched his students leave. "what were you doing in here with them, satoru? because it definitely wasn't reminding them that training was about to start." [name] said, looking at gojo as he spoke. gojo just shrugged at [name]'s question, starting to follow the first years out to the field.

the first years quickly got to training. they were practicing their cursed technique skills and hand to hand combat whilst [name] and gojo kept a close eye. the two teachers were standing close together, smiling as they occasionally made small talk.

"so, what about that date i was talking about earlier?" gojo pipes up, smiling at [name]. [name] just scoffed in response, punching gojo in the shoulder. "don't ask me about dates whilst we're infront of our students, satoru." [name] chuckled and gojo joined in.

gojo then snaked an arm around [name]'s waist, pulling him in closer and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "okay, okay. but we're still going on that date after work, right?" gojo asks. "you're not helping yourself!" [name] replies, pushing gojo away with a huge smile on his face.

of course, the three first years saw this play out. when gojo and [name] thought they were being so subtle, they were caught in the act. the three first years stopped what they were doing and stared at their teachers in shock.

gojo and [name] just watched their students with smiles on their faces. gojo still had his arm wrapped around [name]'s waist as he pulled his lover in for a kiss, not caring about their students. they had already been caught, so what was the harm in sharing a kiss in the end?

"see! i told you he's gay! you owe me big time, itadori!" nobara yells out, starting to chase itadori around the field.

☆ author's note: ill try get requests done soon, sorry if you're waiting on one. do request some more, i have barely any ideas of my own.

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo x male reader #x male reader #gay #foryou #x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen season 2 #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #tokyo trio

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iceunhie · 27 days

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HEART TO HEART — aventurine

premise ⁠☆ the five times aventurine bares his heart out to you, and the one time it works in his favor (or, in which aventurine says he loves you, in his own little ways.)

a/n ⁠☆ lovesick aventurine, i repeat super lovesick aventurine this is not half-assed, originally for @aventurne but then i decided it was for all but mei you will forever be known as the one who started this all ily, reblogs are appreciated. reader is the same reader from make a bet !!

The first time Aventurine opened up to you, he thinks that you looked like what starlight could be in human form.

Granted, no starlight would be able to keep him on his toes this much, though.

He speaks your name like a victory falling upon his lips, a measured weight in its cadence. Aventurine relishes in the way you look alert, placing your attention on him (and him alone), sticking to his side like the faithful subordinate that you are.

He's come to learn that you don't exactly do friends—you are the very image of professionalism, never crossing the lines you shouldn't cross; and if he’s not careful, you could disappear at the slightest touch, just like starlight. (Would it kill you to stay just for him?)

“Have I ever told you that you look prettier when you smile?”

You pause from your game, looking up from the chessboard you and your co-worker, boss, and give him a look that one can truly only enjoy if they were either a masochist or someone who enjoyed another's disgust of them. “About 25 times now, Aventurine.”

“You've been counting? I didn't know you loved my praise that much.”

Sometimes he feels the urge to always compliment you—because this is the only way for you to keep your eyes on him, to only look at him, and Aventurine has always loved looking at your eyes. (If he kept looking, would he convey his heart to you?)

You scrunch up your face. Cute. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fondness bleeds from within him, the Kakavasha of old seeping into the cracks of his hollow shell. Aventurine plays gambles, risks death, yet this feeling of elation is something that triumphed in all of that.

He wonders if you notice; if you know that his honeyed words are genuine, as genuine as a liar like him can be. Aventurine wonders if you can tell that every poke and prod hides the underlying meaning of desperation—the words he can never bring himself to say because he thinks he's far too unworthy (for you). Still…

“I hope you know that it's true.” Just this once, he’ll let you see, just this once. “I mean it. You look prettier when you smile.”

Just this once, Aventurine thinks. He’ll bare his heart to you just this once. It's a gamble, a risk; a gamble he wants to risk.

And indeed, perhaps this is what Gaiathra’s blessing is for.

He sees you bristle like a cat, so wary—but he sees the flush coating your cheeks, reaching well up to the tips of your ears, and he knows he's won. Checkmate. “That's such a lame compliment.”

“How cold.”

(To love is such an unpredictable thing.)

—

Aventurine has only three words to describe himself: loser, liar, and murderer.

He can think of other words too, like useless, stupid, disgusting, unworthy… a plethora of ugly, demeaning, visceral words—how fitting for a person like him.

There's another, too. Greedy. He's greedy. Whether as Kakavasha or Aventurine, the hunger to consume all lingers fresh in his mind. It's a need that knows no end, embittering all he cherished, cherishes. Like an iron chain upon his neck. He's greedy for solace, freedom; death, and—

“Aventurine, are you okay?”

(You.)

How truly fortunate he is to behold your expression, when your concern is as slim as the chances of a collision of planets; when the expressive range of your emotions towards him range from either exasperation or irritation.

His smile feels rotten today, unbearably sweet. “Are you worried about me?”

“You…” the traces of care don't slip from your expression despite the annoyance that betrays your tone. “Be serious here—you haven't been sleeping, have you? What is it? Is Sir Diamond assigning you yet another impossible mission?”

“No.” He doesn't know what's more agonizing. Knowing you care (and always have cared) for him, or knowing that he's making you go through all this trouble just to care for him. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It's just a minor upset, don't worry.”

He doesn't want to be indebted to you. Rather, he doesn't want you to see him; vulnerable, weak. Allowing you to freely enter his study as he's buried under piles of duty bound work just to come across one of the rare times where he's just Kakavasha—alone, and shouldering everything even if it kills him.

Worst of all, Aventurine feels that if you see him, you’ll find out just how ugly he truly is. And then—you’d leave. Like starlight, out of reach; never to be seen again. (Humans cannot survive without the light.)

“Then I'll get you something to eat at least, so you can-”

“No, wait.” He speaks your name like a plea, and you stay. Relief floods through his senses.

Aventurine thinks that perhaps because of the vulnerability he's exposed, you've even become softer. Because why else would you look like that, looking at him like he's worth something? “What is it, Aventurine?”

“Can you stay by my side?” There's a crack in his voice that he wishes to hide, but you don't mind anyway. “Just this once.” Please.

“...Okay.” He doesn't know if he wants to comprehend the meaning of your expression. “I'll stay. As- As much as you want.”

Aventurine thinks that his heart has already been consumed, his greediness becoming his downfall. Why is he just like a fool whenever he's with you? Do you know how dangerous this is, saying these words to him? At this rate…

They say that to covet what must not be coveted is one’s downfall, and Aventurine is no different. His eyes trail over your form, every inch of the stardust that make you. “Thank you. Really.”

Aventurine has only three words (and more) to describe him: liar, loser, and murderer.

“Don't thank me, Aventurine. Just—get some rest. I'll be there when you wake up.”

But now, watching you stay by his side; he supposes he can add another one to his list.

A fool. (a lover.)

Well, he’s been called worse.

—

Envy is a face Aventurine has long grown accustomed to seeing.

He saw it as Kakavasha; the look others give when they see his eyes, when they look at his profile. As Aventurine, he sees it in the eyes of space traders as they gaze upon his wealth, how the eyes of others fall onto him as he walks past.

But the fact that he also wears its mask is ironic, especially given the subject of his envy.

The third time Aventurine bared his heart out to you, it had been an accident. In his foolishness, Aventurine had slipped up.

He shouldn't be jealous, envious of those who get to help you with the IPC’s missions. It is the right, sensible thing to do; because you make him feel illogical, unable to comprehend in the haze of longing.

(Perhaps lovesickness isn't too far off a word.)

This is why you make him break free of his self-imposed apathy at seeing you off. Aventurine checks the file you'd be heading off to. Pier Point.

In a sense of uncharacteristic recklessness and perhaps brought upon by his longing; Aventurine ends up seeing you off.

“I'll get going now- Aventurine….?” your words falter when you watch as your co-worker strides toward you, terribly fast. “I thought you weren't coming to see me.”

“I can't have my dearest friend leave without seeing their handsome colleague’s face.” he says, like a liar. Small mercies to his ability to divert his inner feelings—and to not think about the fact that seeing you makes his heart throb in an ache no hunger can satiate.

You scoff, and thankfully you don't seem that irritated. If anything, you're in a good mood today. Even let him see the way your head tilts to bite back a smile. “How fortunate of me then.”

(He is.)

“Extremely.” he calls your name like a wager, seeking an answer. “How long are you going to be away this time?”

“Almost a month, maybe.”

“...I see.”

He's sulking, you can't help but laugh. Like a golden retriever. “Why so glum? Don't tell me you'd miss me.”

And for all his grace at maintaining his carefully crafted mask, Aventurine's whole world stops when he hears the sound. “How could anyone ever not miss you?”

You pause mid-laugh. Aventurine feels his face heat. He slipped up. Again, because of you. Because you always made him feel as though the universe could stop and end with you; and that this rotten hunger that gnawed at his bones might just be that he cared for you far too much for his own good.

…And now he felt like he wanted to fall back into a sandpit and hide there forever. “Is that what you think, Aventurine?”

(The way you say his name is so intoxicating.)

“Maybe.” He can't look at you right now, or else he'll imagine it—how could you ever feel the way he feels for you? When you were you and he was… him.

“Then come with me next time.” you look at him as though he'd break at any moment; tender. There's something else, too. “If you'd miss me that much.”

You flash him a cheeky, lovely smile, and Aventurine falls.

How unfair you are, capable of reducing him to bits; bringing him to your light and making his heart set off like fireworks in the night.

For now, he will be Aventurine—he could never resist such a tempting offer, not when its weight was far more valuable than any treasure of all. “It would be my pleasure.”

—

Aventurine has always thought that the space in his heart is empty because it was meant to be.

Because he is not worthy of feeling—he is a tool to be used; every part of him taken away and exploited away by others at their whim. In short, he is his best bargaining chip at any stability in his life.

“Aventurine, you’ll catch a cold if you keep forgetting to remove your coat.”

But you don't think that way, and it confuses him, to say the least. Like a shooting star, traces of your existence are specks in his life that have become far too important for him to let go.

Whether it be indulging in his whims of poker, allowing him to see the sight of your expressions in embarrassment and resignation, or the subtleties that have led him to believe (at least, he hopes to believe) that you do care.

And each time, Aventurine embeds your name into his heart even further.

Even now, as you hand him a towel and take his wet coat out of the way, Aventurine doesn't know if this is a blessing or a curse. You are always like this—overwhelmingly blinding, tethering himself to you without warning with your compassion. “I won't get sick.”

“Uh huh. And I'm Qlipoth the Preservation.” your eyebrows raise, and you take him inside. “I don't want to end up taking care of you if you will, so consider this a precautionary measure.”

“Seems I'm in luck, then.” He laughs, genuine. You're probably the only one to be able to bring out this part of him. “Such an angel you are.”

“Stop patronizing me and dry off already.”

“Alright alright, no need to get so fussy.” he throws up his hands in surrender, and he waits until you leave his quarters, strides measured as you give him privacy to change.

Aventurine wonders if you know just how much he loves you. Because he knows he does.

(He has already reached a conclusion.)

Perhaps the reason the space in his heart is empty was because you had been dictated to fit in it, and that Aventurine knows he’d never want you to leave.

—

Grief haunts Aventurine like a ghost, an old friend. Anguish whispers in Kakavasha’s ears and dictates its path to be his destiny.

But love comes in the form of Aventurine’s adoration for you.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die?”

(Yes, he did. He has always wondered.) “No.”

“Why are you asking?” It is a mundane question, spoken atop the glamourous balcony as you and him look down at the glittering streetlights in Penacony below, watching the people of the dreamscape live the life their reality never brought them.

“No reason. Just… I wondered.” You hum, and Aventurine notes the miniscule shiver of your body, the lowering of your gaze; you're thinking about something again. (He wonders if you'd let him listen to what you want to say.) “What death might be like in this dreamscape.”

Instead, his silent question comes in the form of his coat draped around your back. There's no motion of rejection from you, which makes him feel nice—even if it's just for a while.

“Thank you.” You didn't need to thank him. Aventurine knows that he'd do anything for you anyway even if you don't ask a thing. Because he knows that no matter what, this game with his heart on the table shall always lose in favor of you.

“For what it's worth,” Aventurine says, the characteristic lilt of amusement in his voice gone, replaced with something authentic, “I wouldn't want you to die.”

Never. “I don't want you to die either.”

(If only you knew.)

“Hehe, I wouldn't go down without a fight.” he says, and Aventurine takes you in—the ways in which you gaze upon the scenery below, watching how you chuckle as you hear the loud countdown to the fireworks, the way your voice has always been the light, his adoration for you a stone to grab on in his gamble in life.

There's silence. Loving you is like loving the way the air fills your lungs as you breathe, because loving you was as natural as breathing in the sandy dunes of the place he once called home.

(Instead, you took its title for yourself.)

He speaks your name like it's the last thing he could ever do, and that through you, Kakavasha lived, and Kakavasha loved you.

And like always, it's there. Your attention, on him, as he always knows it will be (and as he always hopes it shall be.) as you gaze at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. “What is it?”

And when Aventurine finally bares his heart to you for the fifth time as the burst of fireworks ricochet across the skies, he hopes those three words will reach you.

bonus: the time aventurine bares out his heart to you, and he gets rewarded.

Aventurine’s hair has always reminded you of the color of gold. It is the color of the sunlight as it gently basks against your skin, the color of expensive champagne the man next to you so favors, and the color of the edges of his sunglasses.

(You've always been fond of yellow.)

"Aventurine?" you say, tone light, urging him to wake up. He's truly relentless, adamant on sulking as though his most valuable treasure would slip away from his grasp like you are right now because you were running late. "Can you let me get up now?”

“Good morning to you too.” purple eyes greet your form and an arm winds itself around your waist, pulling you even closer. “And unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I don't want to.”

“I'll be late. You know Jade hates tardiness-”

“-And I would be devastated to not have my lover by my side and leave me heartlessly.” Aventurine feigns, the falsity of his hurt not affecting you at all.

“You…” You frown at him, and Aventurine kisses the crease of your eyebrows of your face, enjoying the way your cheeks flush the like burn of alcohol down one’s throat. “You're so insufferable.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you let out that ire of yours.” he looks at you like he would the most precious of ores, the most valuable of cards—Aventurine looks at you unabashedly, wholly, in affection.

“Will you ever let me be on time?”

“Would you ever let me stop loving you?” he presses a kiss to your palm, tender as his hand traces circles on your palm. Aventurine already knows the answer.

“Really, you're just…” you sigh, but it's exasperatedly fond, and Aventurine’s heart skips a beat. He finds his answer when you press a chaste kiss upon the edge of his mouth. “So insufferable.”

Aventurine laughs, and the die is cast. “If I am, let's make a bet then.”

“Ugh, not another one of those.” you groan, but you make no notion to refuse anyway.

“Sway my heart enough to let you go.” he smirks, cunning as ever.

You roll your eyes, though it's nothing if not affectionate, determined glint shining in your eyes just like starlight.

“Deal.”

Recently, he's come to a conclusion; Aventurine thinks that if it's with you, no gamble is worthier than this.

end notes im gonna kms i hate the ending like actually hate it this fic is the product of boundless hatred and the urge to never show it to the light ever but here i am

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine HSR #aventurine x reader #everyone say thank you to ieyn because she was the one who said the ending had to be fluff instead of aventurine dying in reader's arms ^^

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sweetestdesire · 1 month

Text

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Quinn Hughes leaving for road games is always hard.

Y/N absolutely loved that Quinn got to play in the NHL, that he was happy doing what he did best, that much was true. What she didn’t love, however, was when he left to go on roadies. She watched with sulky pouts and sullen expressions every time as he packed his bags for road games, huffing as he’d take that hoodie she liked instead of leaving it for her.

“I like that one.” She’d always say bitterly. It was a different hoodie every time, and Y/N knew that he knew she said that just to be whiny, but he never said as much, and a small part of her appreciated it.

“You like all of them.” He’d always say blankly, and then she’d sit and mourn that one hoodie she couldn’t have from him, even as he left her the rest of them at her disposal.

This time was no different. Quinn left the first day of winter, the frigid air kissing her skin as she shivered at the front door, standing with a pout on her face as he turned to her. "I’ll see you in two weeks, sweetheart." He said, an arm looping around her to give her a hug.

Y/N sniffled, and she felt silly. She felt like she must seem pathetic every time. It was two weeks, not two decades. But the bed was colder without Quinn to keep her warm in the harshness of winter nights, and breakfast was lonely without someone to listen to her babble away, and the TV was boring when she couldn’t share snacks and make fun of the poor choices of blandly written main characters. She was silly and a bit childish to cry like this every time, but she couldn’t help it. She was happy that Quinn got to play, but she just couldn’t ever get used when he was away.

Quinn lightly traced his fingers down her cheek, watching the way she leaned into his palm. This was the worst part about his job, the only part he hated: saying goodbye to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he ran his thumb along her lower lip, his fingers trembling slightly. “Be good for me, okay?” He softly spoke.

“Always am.” Y/N wrapped her hand around his, bringing it to her lips. “I’ll miss you.” She croaked. “Don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll die."

"So dramatic.” Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft and his hand rubbed those soothing circles into the small of her back, and she thought maybe she wasn’t so annoying if he treated her so softly, so gentle and sweet.

It was cold and dry, and the wind was harsh and Quinn should really get going if he wanted to make it to the airport on time, but Y/N was sniffling into his shoulder. Perhaps there were more pressing things to worry about for now.

"Are you gonna miss me, too?" Y/N asked, poking his shoulder a few times. “You will, right? You’ll be so lonely without me and super sad?"

"You’re too much.” Quinn grunted, but his grip tightened around her anyway as if to say, yes. As if to say, I’ll miss you every day, and I’ll keep missing you even when I’m back. "It’s two weeks, baby.” He reassured. “You’ll live."

"What if I die? Would you come back for my funeral even if you'd miss your game? You would, right? Don’t let them pick a bad picture of me.”

"I’ll pick the ugliest one I can find.” He grumbled, making her slap his shoulder with a gasp.

"I hope you get stuck sitting next to a crying baby on your flight.” Y/N sulked.

"I’m stuck with a crying baby at home, too.” He teasingly muttered. “What’s the difference?" She could almost feel him smile even if she couldn’t see it.

Quinn didn’t smile too often, that's what everyone else said, anyway. Y/N told them differently though, that he smiled often, that he was pretty and soft and innocent underneath the dim lights of their living room or the gentle rays of sun under the morning sheets. And it was always small, the way his lips stretch. It was barely noticeable and all too brief, but his muscles moved before his brain thought, and just a quick glance at her was enough to make his eyes soften and his mouth twitch.

Quinn tugged her back into his arms when she tried to leave his embrace. His body always ran warm, but he’s grown used to her touch, and he found he became cold without it. And come to think of it, his lips were a bit cold right now, he realized, and there was only one thing that could warm them up quick enough to his liking. Cupping her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet to make up for the sharpness he couldn’t help but always expel.

Quinn left her alone at home on the first day of winter, and he realized he fell in love with her a little more every season. He loved her through the gentle breeze of summer and the vibrant petals of spring. He saw pieces of her in the warm hues of autumn everywhere he went, and when winter came and the harsh chill settled under his bones, he realized it was her body he wanted against his to ease the ache of the brittle cold.

"You’re so rude." Y/N said, looking back up at him. His eyes were so soft, so tender. So full of adoration. There were too many words to say and no time to say them. None of them could help though, they both knew that. Saying goodbye was gut wrenching, no amount of soft words would heal the emptiness he’d leave behind. She stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, trying to pretend that time wasn’t looming over her shoulder.

"I’ve gotta go, baby.” was all he said. "I’ll see you in two weeks?" And he always did that, always asked if he'd see her like he had to make sure she’d be here with warm arms and a soft smile and those kind eyes of hers that he didn’t deserve but couldn’t possibly forget.

"Yeah.” Y/N mumbled softly. “Yeah, I’ll see you in two weeks. Be safe, Quinn.” She mumbled against his shoulder.

This was the hard part. If she had to pick, the hardest part was where she let go. The part where her body screamed for the heated press of his as it pulled away. It was always easier for Quinn than it was for her, always simpler for him to reason it was only two weeks. He’d come back, he always did, and she didn’t think he'd ever stop. But it was the hardest part anyway, and she hated it. She wished, selfishly deep down, that it'd be just a bit hard for him, too.

"I’ll see you in two weeks.” Quinn repeated again, as if to reassure her. But this time, he still didn’t let go. He didn’t make a move to leave like usual, and it hit her all at once. She realized maybe it wasn’t just her he said it for, that maybe Quinn, underneath his blank stare and blunt words, didn’t think it was any easier than she did when he walked away.

Y/N nodded slowly. “Two weeks. Shouldn’t be too bad.” She whispered.

"No.” He said quietly. “You’ll live." And then his arms squeezed her tighter, and his breath exhaled slowly, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead that couldn’t be anything other than stalling. And suddenly, Y/N realized maybe it had never been as easy for him as she thought it had been.

"I’ll live.” Y/N agreed softly. “I’ll have to since I can't let someone get away with picking an ugly picture for my funeral."

Quinn chuckled at that. It was a sound he didn’t really make that often, but somehow, it was one that bled into every moment with her. Y/N turned her head and kissed his shoulder, squeezing around his waist and keeping him warm outside the door as the cold wind of winter grazed her skin.

"Don’t die.” Quinn said. “I’ll be back."

"I won't.” Y/N giggled. “Bye, Quinny. I love you, and I’ll see you in two weeks." She said, and this time, it was her lips that craved his warmth, to feel the heat that he radiated, the simple yet overwhelming passion he carried. She cupped his cheek much softer than he did, but she kissed him a lot rougher too, pressing her lips to his like it was the last she’d ever get of him.

"Yeah.” Quinn hummed. And finally, he pulled away. Her body was gone and so was her warmth, but he wasn’t cold and didn’t think he could be when his heart burned like that in his chest. “I love you, too.” He mumbled before he turned around and walked out the door. “And don't forget to watch me win."

To most people, Quinn Hughes seemed like he didn’t know anything about love, that he was just emotionally stunted and a little clueless to his own feelings. But the truth was, he knew more than anyone. He knew himself better than anyone did because for the longest time, that’s who he's been around for most of his day.

So Quinn knew pretty early on that he was in love with Y/N. The reality was that he fell in love first because when she accidentally leaves a few strands of hair in his sink, his first response isn't to roll his eyes, it's to chuckle. He knew she was special enough to get away with that because when she teased him about things, he got excited that she’s comfortable enough with him to mess around, not annoyed that she was poking fun at his expense.

At times, Quinn felt as though he needed Y/N more than she needed him, so he tried to give her more of him, even if there were days he felt like there was nothing left to give. He fell deeper and deeper for her, hopelessly plummeting into her arms and praying they were open for him to fall into. He didn’t want to feel the cold again after knowing the warmth of her embrace. But she always let him fall into her, wrapping her arms around him and entwining herself against his figure. He simply loved her because she’s diligently pieced the jagged shards of himself into something whole again.

#quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes drabble #vancouver canucks #qh43

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earthtooz · 4 months

Note

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration.

But it is true.

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life.

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer.

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork.

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left.

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you.

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again.

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises.

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers.

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space.

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.”

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you.

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?”

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible.

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

#earthtooz: genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley fic #wriothesley x you

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keigokoutarou · 1 year

Text

“Do you like my hips?”

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Pt. 1.5 | Pt. 2

Warnings: suggestive content

Purely self indulgent based off of a dream I had involving my crush cosplaying as ghost. Enjoy.

You sighed, eyes still in your book as your phone buzzed with a phone call. Rolling them in an annoyed manner, you shifted your eyes toward the phone resting by your ankle on the large chaise in your sunroom. Your face looked surprised at the caller.

“Lieutenant Pouty”

You swiped to answer FaceTime, trying not to seem excited about a random call.

“Lieutenant?” You questioned. “You never FaceTime me. What's wrong?

“Nothings wrong.” His voice was gruff.

You listened to the phone be moved around before sitting down against something. You watched the military grade cargo pants come into view at the hips. He was standing angled, hips facing slightly to the side and swaying as he moved to mess with things you couldn’t see off camera. You tried so hard not to stare but his waist looked impossibly good. He had on a tight black shirt that tucked into them so well and his physic was so evident. You’d always admired his body, loving his broad shoulders and how he tapered in at the waist. He was going to be the death of you and he didn’t even have a clue.

“What are you doing then?” You asked, trying to shake off the nerves.

“Wanted to show you something.” He answered swiftly, hands coming around to clip his utility belt around his waist. You inwardly groaned to yourself at how much smaller his waist looked.

“Your hips sir?” You joked, only you didn’t feel amused, you felt hot and drowning in it.

“Don’t have my mask on yet.” He continued with his short answers.

“I’ll call you back then.” You were trying, at least. Trying to get yourself out of a potential situation with your Lieutenant before you could embarrass yourself.

“Absolutely not, Sergeant.” He paused what he was doing.

You remained silent, wondering if he could even see your face that well from the angle he had the phone at.

As the unbearable silence continued, he began putting strapping things around his thighs and hooking them up to the utility belt.

“Sir, I respect you but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to be facetiming with parts of you.” You sighed, being more forward with your uncomfortableness.

“This is payback.” You heard his voice drop an octave with a hint of play backing his tone.

“Payback?” You questioned. “Sir, I'm not quite sure what you mean.” You quizzed

He didn't answer that and continued on in his doings. He reached for the skull mask, almost dangling it in front of the camera before lifting it. You could hear the sound of it slipping on over his hair.

“Perhaps I should call Sergeant McTavish to gain a better idea of what I’ve done to upset you.” You grumbled.

He still didn’t answer. You watched him pull his sleeves up, showing his tattoos before exhaling.

“Are you alone, Sergeant?” He questioned with his voice sounding a bit more muffled because of his mask.

“I’m home, yes sir.” You answered confused. “But I don’t see how that’s any of your concern unless you need to tell me something classified.”

“I need to ask you something.” He continued, voice dry as winter air.

“Alright.” You nodded, finally feeling like you could breathe again.

“I overheard you speaking with Soap.” He started adjusting his gloves to his liking and not bothering to adjust the phone. “You told him how much you loved my hips.”

You're sure if your soul hadn’t left your body in all of those near death experiences, it sure was now. Your face flushed immediately and your heart raced in its cage.

“Is that true, Sergeant?” He continued, seemingly unbothered by what he said to you.

“Sir I-“ you started, pausing before taking a deep breath. “You must have misheard me.”

“Hmm.” He quizzed inwardly. “Are you lying?”

“No sir.” You tried to even your voice.

“You know that lying to your superior could mean discharge.” He continued.

It was moments like this where you cursed the life lessons he faced that made him so unbelievably stoic at the worst of times.

You had absolutely no words for the man on the other line as he tilted the phone to face him. He didn’t pick it up though and that made you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. You were meeting his eyes from the waist up and the angle almost made you pass out.

“I’ll ask again.” His usually cold eyes almost seemed to squint in amusement. Was he enjoying this? “Do you like my hips, sergeant?”

Even from this angle, his eyes bore into yours and you knew there was no chance in lying to him.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled, speaking your truth and sending all of your dignity with it.

“Atta girl.” He sounded so satisfied. “This is your payback for wearing that shirt yesterday.”

Your eyebrows knitted together before reaching an aha moment. You wore a skin tight black spaghetti strap crop top yesterday because it was the hottest day of the year. You and the team were fiddling around with maintenance on all of the buggies so it was a no brainer to dress cool. However you remembered thinking how great your chest looked and maybe on purpose, you made sure Ghost thought the same.

“You aren’t dumb, sergeant.” He continued on, watching as you reached a conclusion in your mind. “I almost thought you didn’t catch me looking.”

And you almost didn’t. Had you not been so attentive to reading your Lieutenants eyes, you would have absolutely missed the way his eyes flickered slightly toward your cleavage when you subtly pulled your shirt down a bit by it’s hem.

“Anyhow.” He interrupted your train of thought. “I assume this won’t happen again.”

“No sir.” You we’re drowning in that heat now with no life jacket in sight.

“At least not without proper punishment.” You picked up on his excitement showing through his tone as he camera angled back at his hips and he stepped back revealing the much more obvious tenting of his pants.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sergeant.” He bed before clicking the call to an end.

A wicked smirk complimenting your flushed face came into play and you sure as hell were going to fuck with your lieutenant some more.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #mw2 imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 headcanons #mw2 hcs #cod hcs #cod imagine #cod headcanons #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley smut

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kamotecue · 2 months

Text

reconciliation between two old lovers ❆ l. williamson

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

summary: part two of here, in which two old lovers reconcile the relationship that they once had.

"it's been awhile, lee." you spoke, being the first one as the two of you had left the backstage, going into a seperate room. no one had made the effort to talk, until you did - the silence was already suffering, you were never good with sitting still, it made you anxious.

"it has been a while, hasn't it. you look happier." lee said, as you softly hummed at her words, which she turned to look at you, analyzing the way you'd scrunch your nose, a frown appearing on the english captain's face as she knew how that action would appear if there was something you disagreed with her on.

"what is it?" lee softly asked, her attention was fully on you, as it always has been - the moment the concert started, and when she saw you walk out of your changing room, her eyes never left yours. a sigh escaped your lips as she patiently waited, for you to explain, or to express your thoughts.

"i do love my fans, this life but i just can't help but think - 'what if i didn't tore my acl that day' would i still be playing football alongside you? did i ever get called up to play for england?" you asked, as the blonde carefully listened to your words.

"most importantly, i would've never lost you." you continued, avoiding her eyes, looking at the chairs that were previously occupied by your fans, the rest simply remained backstage, your childhood friends "bandmates" were currently answering their questions. but you knew about the curious gazes from them, they took note on their club's vice captain interactions.

"you always had me, n/n - and you still do. there hasn't been a day where you haven't crossed my mind, the soft yet gummy smiles that you give to your fans, was something you only shown to me." lee replied, her tone was as delicate as always.

"i let the press get to me, worried that they'll invade your privacy if ever they found out that we were dating especially since the two of us hadn't even came out-" you choked on your words, as leah made her move - swiftly walking towards you, as she pulled you into a hug. you instantly buried your face into her chest, feeling the comfort of the one you love. the tears continued to fall, the defender not minding her soaked shirt, it didn't matter because it was you.

"but rather than breaking up with me, you could've told me. as a couple we're supposed to work it out, your concerns are mine, just like mine are yours." as you calmed yourself, you looked up to see her with a soft smile, yet her eyes held concern.

"there's those pretty eyes" lee unconsciously said, as you flushed - the blonde defender quickly coughing as she averted her eyes. when she'd stare into your earthy brown eyes, it was easy to get lost into.

"i'm really sorry how things ended, lee. i should've talked to you" as she hummed, her arms were still wrapped around your body, pulling you a bit closer as you listened to her heartbeat.

"you should've, but we're over that. my mom knew about our relationship, i suppose it's true that mothers know best. but - would you perhaps want to go on a date?" her eyes searched yours, worried about your reaction, as you slowly nodded.

｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

official_y/nl/n: mine 💛

tagged leahwilliamsonn

liked by oliverbennett, archiereed, adelinewright, alessiarusso99, and 7, 934,392 others.

leahwilliamsonn: glad that you're mine again, @official_/nl/n. 💛

liked by official_y/nl/n, oliverbennett, adelinewright, archiereed, katie_mccabe11 and 592,872 others.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc imagine #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part six.

Oscar looks as surprised as you feel— eyes wide, mouth parted slightly, frozen mid-step into the entryway. He’s staring at you, in fact, he’s focused entirely on you, but this moment doesn’t feel as magical as you had envisioned it would be. It doesn’t feel magical at all.

There’s no butterflies in your stomach, no teary reunion hugs, and there’s definitely no movie-worthy kiss.

He looks like a deer in the headlights, caught somewhere between wanting to turn tail and run away or being swallowed up by the floorboards— anything to be anywhere else in the world than right here with you.

And it hurts.

“Y/N,” he finally starts, clearing his throat when his voice cracks awkwardly on your name. He shifts from foot to foot, and clenches and unclenches his hands at his side like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them. “I, uh, didn’t know you would be here.”

You open your mouth to respond— to say the same. You want to explain that you hadn’t known he would be here either, and that had you known you would’ve waited up for him at the house instead of hitting the town with Lando, but before you can get a single word out Oscar is already turning to Lando and fixing him with a glare.

“You said you were at a meeting,” he says, words clipped and under-toned with frustration.

Lando steps further into his entryway and kicks off his shoes, not seeming to care about where they end up. “Technically,” he begins as he does so, peering over his shoulder at Oscar with a cheeky grin, “a dinner can be considered a meeting.”

Oscar’s jaw clenches. “You didn’t tell me it would be with her.”

Your brows furrow and you cross your arms. You feel startlingly sober now, and the shift away from the warm fuzzy buzz leaves you feeling cold and like the world has been brought into hyperfocus.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, bringing Oscar’s attention back to you.

He takes in your stance and the expression on your face, perhaps realizing how his words sounded, and sighs. “I just would’ve appreciated being told I’d be sharing the house with… with you before I got here.”

“So you could avoid me like you have been since the season ended?” It… isn’t what you had been intending to say, but the words rush out of you before you can reign them in and bite them back. You know Oscar isn’t the only party at fault in this situation— you know that you could’ve just as easily reached out— but you feel hurt and angry, and having him stand before you demanding to know things makes it worse.

He huffs and looks away from you, avoiding your gaze. “I would’ve liked to have known I’d be third-wheeling, is all.”

It’s a bitter comment, muttered just loud enough for you to hear. The implications are valid, you know they are, but they’re not true despite what your and Lando’s comment interactions seem like.

You don’t feel so confident in your dress anymore— it feels like just another thing Oscar could comment about as proof of the unprofessionalism of your friendship with Lando. You want to scream at him that it doesn’t matter that you got dressed up to feel pretty, and it certainly doesn’t matter that you had a night on the town with Lando, who has been more of a friend to you in the past month than Oscar has been.

You can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes, and wonder briefly how possible it would be to get a flight back to the States in the morning so you don’t have to spend the rest of the week stuck being made to feel like you’re just getting in the way of Oscar’s time with his teammate.

As if he can tell you’re on the verge of breaking out into sobs, Lando steps in physically and verbally. He takes a step in front of you, partially blocking you from Oscar’s view. “Mate,” he starts, “cool it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it was meant to be a surprise. But Y/N isn’t at fault. She didn’t know either.”

Oscar goes to speak again, but before he can you clear your throat and draw their attention to you once more. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get changed. Thank you for tonight again, Lando. It was nice and I really needed it.”

You give Lando a curt nod, one that he mirrors back at you with a sympathetic smile. You feel bad for dragging him into all of this now, especially when he’d gone out of his way to have you both here presumably to get you to figure things out. You hadn’t meant for things to put a strain on their friendship as well. So much of what you’d done had been done so to avoid more complications. You’d tried not to tell Logan, because you hadn’t wanted it to threaten his closeness with Oscar, especially with how rough it had been for him to make friends on the grid. On top of that, you’d been hesitant to agree to Lando’s plan in the first place for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because he and Oscar are teammates, and though they’re rivals out on the track they are also the only allies they have when the race is going. They need to be able to trust one another— not be distracted by petty disagreements.

You avoid looking at Oscar, like he seemed keen on doing to you just a moment ago, and slip past both of them to the stairs. It’s hard to get up them as fast as you want with your heels, but you manage as best you can and are thankful for it when the tears stinging your eyes finally begin sliding down your cheeks as you’re fumbling with the door knob of your room.

A few hours later, you’re curled up in bed on the phone with Logan. You’ve been changed out of your dress for a while, now clad in a T-shirt that you’re pretty sure belonged to Dalton at one point and a pair of comfortable sweats. Your hair is still damp from the shower you took and it’s making you cold, but the warm steam had done wonders in keeping your eyes from puffing up after having a good cry and in getting rid of the tear-stricken remains of your makeup, so you can’t complain.

Mostly you just want to forget about it all, and that’s why you’ve gone to your brother.

“I just feel like an idiot,” you tell him. “All of this is my fault. If I had just never gone along with trying to make him jealous then maybe he wouldn’t be so upset with me.”

Logan makes a sound of disagreement. “That still doesn’t give him the right to talk to you like that.”

“He wasn’t wrong, Logie,” you answer. “As far as he knows, he would be third-wheeling me and Lando because that’s the impression we’ve given with our comments.”

He huffs and you can imagine him shaking his head and rolling his eyes on the other end, looking disgruntled. “Maybe that’s the impression you gave,” he starts again, “but that still doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole about it. I never got pissy with Alex when I was basically a third wheel to him and Lily half the time.”

“Yeah, but Alex isn’t using Lily to try and make you jealous so you’ll admit you have feelings for him.”

“Fair point,” he admits, grumbling. “But I digress. You’re my sister and that means you could kill a man and I would still defend you to anyone who tried to talk bad about you.”

You chuckle, and it’s the first time you’ve laughed since your encounter with Oscar which makes you feel a bit lighter.

“I think I might try to find a flight home tomorrow. I feel like I’ll just be causing more issues if I stay here, and I don’t want to make things difficult between them when they’re still driving together next season. I just don’t—” There’s a knock on your door. You relay it to Logan as you rise from the bed and make your way over to answer.

It’s Oscar.

You murmur a soft apology and then a goodbye to Logan and promise to text him later before you hang up and turn your attention back to the young man shifting around awkwardly in the hallway before you.

“Can I help you?”

He purses his lips and sheepishly meets your eyes, looking somewhat guilty which makes you wonder what, if anything, Lando said to him after you departed. “Lando said the other guest room is out of commission,” he starts, “and that, as friends, it wouldn’t be a big deal if we shared.” He clears his throat, and motions with a thumb over his shoulder back in the direction of the stairs. “I can take the couch if you want, but I just thought I could at least leave my luggage up here.”

The Oscar before you now looks drastically different from the Oscar you’d been presented with just a few hours prior. He’s dressed the same, in a loose hoodie and a pair of joggers, but he doesn’t look quite so desperate to disappear anymore. He looks ashamed. It’s closer to how you know Oscar to be from before everything happened in Bahrain.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you tell him.

He frowns. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and lean against the door. “I meant we could share, Oscar.” Then, partly teasing and partly wondering if he just genuinely doesn’t want to share a room with you, you frown and add, “Unless you really can’t stand the idea that much—”

“I’m fine with sharing.” He interrupts quickly, clearing his throat. “And… I’m sorry about the things I said earlier. I am happy to see you, I was just shocked is all and traveling made me a bit cranky so I didn’t handle it all that well. It’s not an excuse, though. And for the record, I don’t actually think I’ll be third-wheeling the entire time I’m here.”

The apology makes you pause. You hadn’t actually expected him to say anything because you hadn’t actually thought he was the one in the wrong. Sure, you’d been hurt, but you’d figured it was the least of what you deserved after making things so complicated. The butterflies that had been dormant when you’d first reunited with him suddenly make an appearance, fluttering in your chest.

“It’s fine,” you answer. Ignoring the pinched look he shoots you that says he wants to argue against it. “I know what it looked like,” you add.

You’re both silent for a moment, just looking at one another. His luggage sits by his feet, but he makes no move to grab it or try to enter the room, and you don’t try to open the door any further.

After another few seconds, you take a deep breath and ask— “Are we still friends?”

“Of course!” He exclaims, expression immediately melting into a mixture of confusion and concern. “Why would you think we aren’t?”

It’s obvious to you, but his genuine perplexity makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been overthinking this whole thing. What if he hasn’t been ignoring you at all? What if he just went off the grid for a bit? Drivers do that all the time, so it’s not out of place if he had decided to do so as well. Maybe he was just taking a social media detox? He only posted a few times, so a partial detox then?

You cast your gaze downward, watching your fingers fiddle with the drawstring of your pants.

“You would’ve known I was here in Monaco if you had looked at my Instagram,” you say with a shrug. “But you haven’t done that in a while, so…”

He shifts, and you look up just in time to see him make another face— a wince. “I—”

“I’m not trying to attack you, Oscar.” You interrupt, realizing how your words must’ve come across. And you’re not. It’s not an accusation, just an observation that you would really like an explanation for. “It doesn’t matter. I just feel like I’ve done something to make you upset and I don’t know the first thing about how to apologize or make it up to you because I don’t even know what I did.”

He stares at you for another moment and then heaves a sigh and runs a hand down his face, “You haven’t done anything, I promise, Y/N. I’ve just been in a funk lately, or something.”

You want to prod more— ask if he’s okay, if it’s something serious, or if it’s something you can help with in any way. But you feel like this particular interaction is an olive branch, and you don’t want the already tentative reconciliation to be torn to shreds by pushing too far.

“So we’re good?” You ask instead.

“We’re good.” He confirms with a gentle smile.

“Great,” you exclaim, clapping your hands together for emphasis. You swing the door open wider and then nod to his bags. “Then bring those in and turn the lights out already because I had a crazy night and it’s finally hitting me.”

His laughter behind you as you make your way back to the bed is the nicest sound you’ve ever heard.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries

━━ a/n: a tentative reconciliation! there is still more drama to come, however, so don't worry, this isn't the end just yet!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris #social media au

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rosie-writings · 2 months

Text

Collapse Into Me

Request: anon— A honeymoon fic of Colby bringing his wife to Wales like he mentioned on Snapchat during their Europe trip

Summary: Wedding planning polarized you and your family, but it made you realize that Colby’s family is the one you were meant to be in.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bondage, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, and all the warm fluffy feelings

Words: 9k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

My hands were shaking, trembling to the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold in the air or that shrill in her voice.

“And so you think it’s a good idea, now?” My eyebrows pushed together at the sight of hers raising. “Of all times, now?”

”I mean, technically not-not now. In February.”

”February?” I didn’t think her voice reached that pitch, but of course it was me who could draw it out of her. “You’re giving yourself four months to plan a wedding? You’re so stupid.”

”Tell me why I’m stupid about this. You haven’t given me a valid reason; you’ve given me ridiculous reasons for why you think I’m stupid about other things, but not this.”

”Because,” she sighed with a twinge in her voice. My eyes grazed the stringy amber brown streaked blonde directionless curls at the end of her wavy hair. The last three inches of them should have been cut off months ago. “You of all people should know that it’s dumb behavior to have a ring on your finger three months into even entertaining the idea of being-of being stuck to someone.” My eyes fell flat.

I never liked the fact that I was five inches shorter than my cousin, but at this moment, I realized that she swung her height clunkily with those heels that used to be in my bedroom. My mom left them on my bed for me when she accidentally bought two sizes too big for herself. Of course I left them in my cousin’s car accidentally on purpose because why would a clan of near-six-foot-tall women leave a size ten shoe for the one who barely hit five foot four.

“Okay,” my voice shook. “That kind of hurt actually.”

”Yeah; truth hurts. That’s how you know that this is the truth.” If that was the case, I could hurt her a lot right now. I would start with the fact that her eye color never really matched her beloved blue mascara, but that was neither here nor there.

”Well… I’d rather be stuck to him for the rest of my life than you guys.” I looked away and shoved down the burning in my throat. I continued the blame before she could gasp her pitiful response. “I mean, it’s true for you I suppose.”

”It’s true for anyone!”

”You-You hardly know what I want.” The scoff of her thick lips made mine push in a tight line.

”I’ve seen you under the sun enough to know that you’ve daydreamed about your honeymoon being at the beach.” Or maybe I simply day dreamed about a summer vacation without your squeaky voice cutting through the soothing sound of waves—

“I mean, you’re probably just projecting,” I sighed. “At least your skin keeps a tan. It’s just too much work for me to prioritize staying dark.”

“Yeah I know,” she said and I bit my tongue to conceal the roll of my eyes as if my eyes and tongue were connected. “Maybe I should just convince your mom to talk sense into you.”

”I mean, I’ve told her already and you’re the only one who’s given me this amount of shit about it.” Her eyes widened; they yielded a confrontation I wasn’t ready for.

“Hm,” she sighed. Her eyes scanned me and it felt nice for her to be speechless if even for a second. “Well I still don’t like it.”

”And not everything’s about you.” This time her eyes rolled.

“Where are you even getting married? He has enough money to take you wherever you want and have it done.”

”Pf,” I scoffed because my stomach turned at the sound of her already expecting something from him. “Perhaps, but you damn well know I have enough money to bring all of us anywhere I want to go.” Her eyebrow rose. Only one of them.

”So you’re telling me he’s making you pay?”

”I don’t remember your opinion mattering when it comes to issues between a husband and wife, but go off I guess.” She audibly gasped.

”I’m telling your mom you said that.”

”Do it,” I challenged without blinking. She rolled her eyes. Her stupid car keys flicked over her hand. No one ever told her that the weight of all the senseless chains between far and few keys on the ring could ruin her ignition. She probably pumped her own gas once.

”I will.” She spun on her heel and walked over the edge of the curb. Her hand settled on the handle of that pristine Audi she bought last autumn. Well, she didn’t buy it; follow the money up the chain and it would come from YouTube into my bank account. “Also, I could never see you getting married in the dead of winter. You’d blend in with the snow and dead trees.”

I rolled my eyes because she didn’t know that it made me cry at night when my skin reddened from the unrelenting summer sun.

It didn’t even snow in Southern California.

”Hey,” he said, and the door of the car hardly opened all the way when the sweet sound hit my ears. Despite the tension in my throat, I stifled a wide smile.

”Hi,” I said as I sat down and closed the door. A flick of a millisecond long expression from him told me that I held my breath for too long when I said my greeting.

“I’m guessing it went…”

”Yeah no,” I sighed as I released the tension in my throat. My fingers etched into the thick leather of his car. His hand found my thigh. My eyes still peeled out the window. “She’s an idiot. They all are.” He was quiet for a moment. Before a smile broke. God, I couldn’t look away from him even if I only drowned on half of his appearance. His eyes were on the road.

“Sorry, but I anticipated that.” I shook my head.

It was September, and Colby and I got engaged almost a month ago. I waited to tell any of my family until now so that we could breathe and be excited by taking a break at work and partying with friends more than necessary. I knew that it would put yet another ringer between my women dominated family who each had expectations much higher than I did.

Well, my expectation of the actual person I was going to marry clearly was higher than theirs. Their primary focus was the wedding and who their bridesmaids were going to be and where the bachelorette parties would be and where the honeymoon—

Jesus Christ.

Maybe I was the second out of eleven of us getting married—I had three sisters and four first and three second cousins; all of us girls—because I wanted to get it over with. Maybe it sounded sad, and I kind of was, but this sadness was rooted in the stigma they inadvertently forced in me when I was young. I knew I didn’t meet their expectations when it came to the kind of dresses I liked.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no less materialistic than they were. I just liked making my own money and giving myself clothes and dresses devoid of color when I wanted to, unlike the ones their mothers and fathers threw at them in between whiny complaints. They dressed me up one time when I was sixteen; that was when the oldest was married at 25. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because there were too many of us, especially when combined with her two best friends.

And I wasn’t the flower girl either because I wasn’t the youngest. But if she had asked me to be the flower girl, I would have dressed in a floor length black dress out of spite towards the embarrassment.

The first time I would be in a wedding would be my own, and I was thoroughly happy about it.

I liked the way—that when Colby’s fingertips dragged up my leg to find my hand, and once found—his own rings clashed with the one he gave me. I also liked the fact that the first ring I ever accepted from someone was his, and also the fact that the first ring to be placed on his ring finger would be the one I would get him. Despite the dozens of rings that adorned his fingers at every second of the day, I knew he deliberately made vacant his ring finger, even if he never explicitly mentioned it. I noticed.

So now we were on the way back to his house. I suspected Sam was back from his morning responsibility and as were other friends considering the amount of food in the backseat. Colby must have picked it up right as he picked me up from the cafe I met my sisters at that morning.

We talked about the engagement at first, and I was smart enough to tell them in public so they couldn’t make too large of a scene. It was my sister who was the happiest. She was two years older than me; the oldest of us four. Two of the three cousins who decided to spend their time on me had to warm to the idea. It was my second oldest sister and the third cousin who stayed later after everyone else left to chew me out about it.

I was saved by God herself when my sister said she was going to be late for work and left. My cousin didn’t get the memo and didn’t leave in her car until Colby’s had been sitting on the side of the road, since all the parking spaces were taken, for a solid minute.

It felt like I could breathe everytime I stepped foot in their house.

Once everything was settled, anyway.

Colby told me the night we were engaged, after the party and after we had been alone for two hours, that he would have proposed to me in the spring, but it took all those months to convince Sam that it was a good idea.

”I never expected you to be the one to convince Sam that marriage could be good; I thought it would be the other way around,” I told Colby when my thumb still twisted the engagement ring on my finger. He laughed.

”I don’t think it would have mattered who was getting married between us; the other one was bound to take months to come to terms with it.”

And I knew it had nothing to do with me. I love their friendship wholeheartedly; I had no complaints about it at all.

“I really don’t hold any of that-that mess against you, you know?” I shook my head in faux annoyance.

”You don’t have to tell me that everytime I had a standoff with them about you,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“That’s a little much—“

”I mean, even though I fucking hate them sometimes—most of the time—I still couldn’t marry someone who seriously hates them. That’s for me and me only.”

”You take the brunt of them too much.”

”Yeah well,” I sighed as we got to the house, and thanked God for it. “Someone has to and at least I have the patience to not tear their family apart unlike our mothers.” He smiled, and I knew it had nothing to do with what I meant.

Their family, as in, I was already founded by another.

Wedding planning was nice when I was secluded with my friends and when I was with Colby; the anxiety of being without the rest of my family was forgotten. I knew I was different from them, but I didn’t realize how much I was until my own wedding planning turned into a mirror. I also couldn’t stop thinking about my oldest cousin’s wedding; maybe it was a blessing more than a curse that I didn’t have to wear one of those coral bridesmaid dresses that looked stuck in a 2015 Instagram feed.

I really didn’t look good in coral. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Or maybe it was the fact that if I chose a dress that would cover my tattoos, it wouldn’t match her aesthetic.

It didn’t matter to me. None of them would be in my wedding.

I take that back; one would, and that was the one who cried when I FaceTimed her two weeks ago. Colby, even, invited her to a party of recent to which she declined but was thankful still for including her. She was a month younger than me. I threatened her to not tell the rest of our family. The fact that I told her was enough; I knew she wouldn’t.

Maybe there was a certain decibel of venom on my tongue when I talked about my family to the boys, but I was too lethargic to say it to their faces. My family would expect yelling, arguing, and receipts, and at this point, I simply didn’t care enough.

I decided to save the energy for the week the world learned about who was in my ring of bridesmaids.

“Good thing you only have a few months left of it,” Colby said a bit too happily. I smiled as we grabbed the food and walked into their full house.

And a few months it was.

I dizzied at the sight of the makeup on my face. To be completely transparent, I tried this look on myself before and I thought I looked decent until a professional artist, obviously, made my version of the look more similar to a newborn digging through its mother’s makeup bag. Two days. Just two more days and it would be over. It guilted me that that was how I felt about wedding planning, but I just wanted to be alone.

Alone with Colby; how was that different than being alone at this point?

Somehow, the weather caved as if it knew and obeyed the spite in my heart. Thick winterous clouds rolled in last night, and I couldn’t help but smile at them. No longer did I imagine a piercing blue sky over us in our wedding photos. I didn’t fully understand why it made me ecstatic to know that the weather would traditionally be not ideal for a wedding.

Maybe it was the fact that the earth gave me what I wanted.

My mother, three cousins, and one sister complained about how gross it was outside and how they wished the sky would clear up. I silently prayed it wouldn’t. I could have sworn the clouds turned grayer. I knew I wouldn’t get snow in Los Angeles, but my family was right about the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to handle the chill.

And I thought that fluke cool front in September was cold.

“What do you think?” I asked as my best friend walked in the room upon the makeup artist’s request.

”Stop,” she gasped and she smiled ear to ear until the burning I ever so hated coiled in my throat. “I fear I’m going to have to be a bitch to you tomorrow so that we won’t get all sentimental and cry it all off.”

”Good,” I snorted. “Because if I cry I’m punching you in the throat.” I held the mirror and looked at myself. It was the first time I wore makeup that mended with my skin tone. It didn’t look like I stole mud from the earth and rubbed in on my cool skin. I looked more alive and healthy than I did when my sister did my make up, and my heart sped at the idea that each of them would scowl at the eyeliner that might have been a millimeter thicker than the average wedding liner. I don’t know what it was; I didn’t do things out of spite all the time.

It simply looked like spite when I did things for myself.

I saved putting my dress on for tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, my best friend tied it up for me. Or zipped it. Both, actually.

The photographer snapped our intimate moments in the women’s getting ready room. My two other friends, my sister, and Colby’s sister including our moms who stopped by for no more than ten minutes accompanied. The silence was a blessing even though we were the furthest from actually staying quiet. I didn’t think I liked other human voices until I met my closest friends.

It ended before I convinced myself it started.

My stomach was in knots until I saw Colby that day, and then I remembered the rest. I blacked out when I was with him, always, and could only remember the things we kept between us. The rest of it didn’t matter. The morning mattered, but the nerves gnawed at them, and when we were together, who cared about the cousin gossiping rows away?

I heard his footsteps before his voice. He took his time, and I didn’t move.

I stood in the room that my bridesmaids and I readied ourselves in nearly an hour ago.

My lips still buzzed from the feeling of his. We kissed far too many times to count, but it felt like this one counted more than the rest.

He took more steps towards me.

I noticed my breath as my eyes still peeled out the window. The heavy winter clouds still hung low, and the trees around the venue were almost colorless aside from the nearly black bark that hung on through the stress of winter. The decorations took the place of snow, and I appreciated my best friend’s idea of having black and white be the colors for our wedding, because I couldn’t look away. The red roses displaced here and there warmed the ornate black iron chairs facing the altar, and I imagined what the semi outdoor and indoor reception space appeared like now that people and music filled it.

He didn’t say anything by the time he stood behind me. His hands found my waist. I still didn’t move.

I knew he came to find me, primarily, but also prepared me for entering the reception hand in hand. I assumed all that was forgotten when he found me here, alone. I didn’t intend on being alone. After photos, my bridesmaids and I came up here to freshen up and they then went off to arrange our entrance. Colby did the same with his groomsmen.

“Fuck off; go find your wife we have business to attend to,” I read Sam’s lips. Colby laughed and didn’t question when a handful of them raced by with cans and markers in their hands. I watched them down below on the porch; butterflies filled me when Colby walked in the front door.

A breath dragged quickly between my teeth when Colby left a trail of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder. The white lace of my sleeves hardly clung on my shoulder giving him much room. He didn’t take advantage of it for the sake of photos, but I knew he wanted to. I leaned back into his touch, but didn’t take my eyes off the window.

The ceremony space was fully empty now; the last few guests made it to the reception space.

“As much as I’m contemplating taking you here and fucking you on every surface of this room, I’m not sure you would appreciate me messing up your makeup before we go to the reception.”

My face burned, oh it burned, I didn’t look at him or else his pestering smile would make it worse.

”Bring me downstairs then,” I laughed and turned to him finally. I hardly looked at him before his lips were on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, ever pulling him tighter. I breathed him in as he tasted me.

Maybe my wine red lipstick was transfer proofed on purpose, but a tiny part of me wished it wasn’t because his new ring wouldn’t be the only symbol of claim on him.

”Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped in mine.

I tasted him through the reception.

Through pictures, dances, cake, and conversations; I didn’t think a mouth could be so memorable.

”What?” I gasped when I butted in the boys’ conversation at the end. Sam looked at me with wide drunken eyes that buzzed from the thrill of the night.

”Uh—We were reminding Colby to just chill out and take a breath before seeing his car and probably have it washed before you do anything else or else he’d have to get a new paint job tomorrow.”

”Jesus Christ,” Colby laughed.

And after we left the venue, we did just that. I didn’t know that shaving cream could eat away at car paint but there we were.

My ears rang after the car doors were shut, and my breathing caught in my chest.

We were alone.

We had been alone and spent many nights sleepless and breathless, but none of them amounted to that night, that moment. I couldn’t pinpoint why, I just knew.

He didn’t say anything in the minutes it took to reach the freeway. My palm burned against his. His fingertips raced up my palm and invaded the lace that started at my wrist. Chills electrified up my arm from where his fingertips touched, and I didn’t move away from them.

My head spun with every step, and before I knew it, we walked into the hotel suite booked if only for a handful of hours. Until our flight. I walked in, my breathing definitely not under control, and he haphazardly set our bags down. I felt his eyes on me, and before I could turn around, I heard his quick steps. I broke into a smile when his hands reached me, and he spun me around harshly for himself.

His hand held my face, and no longer was his touch filled with care for my appearance. No, it was filled with a vengeance to touch, to please, to get near. He licked into my mouth and I gave and gave, his hands didn’t leave any part of my body untouched, even as we stood there.

And then he fell to his knees.

My breath left me as he looked up darkly from where he descended. As I drew a breath to ask what he was doing, hands slowly snaked up my legs.

“Colby,” I hummed his name. There wasn’t much of a skirt to my dress; it was more a-line than anything, but the thin layers of fabric were soft, durable. My skin crawled at the sound of it brushing against the sleeve of his thick jacket. He still hadn’t changed a thing about his appearance since the ceremony. Maybe his jacket came off at some point while dancing, but we could see our breaths in the air outside.

”Oh—“ I couldn’t contain my hums, moans, and noises as his fingertips trailed up my skin, and when he dove under my dress and used his mouth on me instead, I saw stars.

I couldn’t remember another word other than his name. I felt it too; the hum of his own moans against my thighs. What on earth took him so long? I was torn in two. A part of me needed to feel every part of him now, but the other wanted to stay here forever and let him touch and kiss every cell of my body.

The muscles in my stomach tensed the moment his fingers grabbed the top of one of the garters around my thigh and he snapped it back. My hand reflexively pushed his head and he laughed. I thought he would take it off, but no. His retaliation was shoving me by the hips to sit on the edge of the bed behind me.

Instead, his lips and tongue dove right where I ached for him.

With a gasp, I tried to handle what I felt, but I couldn’t. He didn’t even move to take off the lace that was probably ruined with my arousal and had been for hours now. Then a few fingertips dipped behind the side of it and I preened at the feeling of his cool fingerprints in my unbearable heat.

“Colby—“ I gasped yet again, but he didn’t wait up. Two fingers dove into me. He knew how ready I was; he probably knew from the look in my eyes alone. Then he whispered something against me that I couldn’t make out. He shoved the lingerie out of his way, and I gasped at the tough stretch of the lace in my inner hip. His tongue was on me, his mouth worked me and sucked me sweetly as his fingers slowly moved in and out.

My head hit the bed as I gave up any power I had.

Then he gasped and breathed heavily as he pushed my skirt up higher. It pooled across my hips, and I rose to my elbows so I could finally see his pretty face. It was flushed, and his eyes were dark and hazy.

Those hands grabbed my thighs, and the pressure fueled my lust must have left bruises in their wake. I yelled his name as he dove back down into me, and I finally was able to string my fingers through his messy hair.

I chanted his name like a prayer and I felt moans and words in between my legs again. No part of me could find the mess he made of his mouth, my heat, repulsive in any way even though I know I would scrub us clean in a handful of time.

”Oh my god, I’ll come already,” I gasped. Of course this fueled his movements. My voice broke into higher whines, and he didn’t complain if I yanked on the roots of his hair too tightly.

He licked me through my orgasm even as I shook through violent aftershocks.

He shot to his feet.

”Please—“ I gasped. His eyes didn’t come off mine as he unbuckled his belt. I did, though, I took my eyes off his eyes, and I launched forward. Even though it may have taken more time than if he did it, he allowed my excitement to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. I felt his gaze on top of me, and his hand stroked in alignment with the currents of my hair. It was pinned behind me loosely where rivers of strands wound elegantly.

My heart raced at the feeling of his rough, and respectfully gentle hand warmly brushing and leading me without messing up my hair. I wanted him to, though. God, I wanted him to ruin my hair.

Ruin my makeup.

I pulled him from his pants, and a river of uneven breaths flowed from him. He hummed my name when I took him in my mouth.

”Just-Just want inside you,” he whispered. I ignored him and laced my gaze with his as I went down on him over and over. His eyes rolled back and my body surged deeper around him when pleasure overcame him. I might have gone faster, might have gotten ahead of myself— “Alright, alright,” he gasped. He grabbed himself and pulled me by the hair. I gasped when I came off of him.

He shoved me down to the bed.

I looked up at him, and he didn’t move us. He didn’t take another article of clothing off us.

I couldn’t speak, and from the look in his eyes, he clearly couldn’t either. His heart raced; I could tell by the way his breath escaped him in and out unevenly. He shoved my lingerie to the side again.

Like every time his body mended with mine, he filled me to the brim.

“Love you—“ He gasped so lowly I hardly heard him. “Mine, you’re all mine.”

”And you’re mine,” I whined when he thrusted harshly. We didn’t leave room for teasing. He didn’t want to waste another second—not that any of the many seconds of the day were wasted—but what else was each glance we sent each other on this day other than teasing, foreplay.

God, I undressed him with my eyes dozens of times today alone.

His hands raced down my legs, pushed them back and spread them further apart. Eyes tore me to shreds. His face strained with pleasure, and I had to hold onto the duvet tightly since I couldn’t read what I wished to.

”God—fucking—in the way—“ He cut himself off with a tear.

He didn’t want to take off any of my clothes, no, he wanted to savor the sight of this day on my skin, so he tore the side lace of the lingerie slightly so that he didn’t catch on the tightness of it. I gasped some tension released, and he was able to find better leverage.

”I love you, I love you—holy shit—you’re mine.” This time he leaned forward with one of my legs hooked over his arm.

”I’m yours,” I repeated.

”I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to stay filled with it until the morning,” he said. I thought his hand wrapped around my throat, but that was just my visceral reaction.

“Colby,” I gasped his name breathlessly. “Need you in me forever.”

It was quick, and I didn’t realize until later how calculated it was.

After he filled me, he recovered me with the tight white lingerie—albeit slightly ripped now—and his release couldn’t slip out. My body trembled under his touch, his gaze, and he kissed me like he meant it at the altar. He always did.

”Sit up,” he gasped. I obeyed and looked up at him for the next direction. Instead of making a command, he walked over and sat behind me on the bed. His hands were hot and sweaty, his breath still quick.

Then, his hands started working on the laces and zipper of my dress. It took him a second, but he learned and released me from the dress slowly. A part of me wanted to rush him, but this was it. The first and the last time he would take this dress off of me. When it was undone, his fingers uncovered my shoulders; fingers grazing my inked skin behind the falling lace.

Colby stood in front of me as I too raised to my feet and he pushed down my dress. I stepped out of it. When he went to worship the rest of my body that he neglected, I cut him off. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I savored his moans against my tongue before I licked into his mouth. His hands were on me. They fell down my bare sides, ran over the roughness of the lace lingerie over my hips, and raced back up over my shoulders, my chest.

I pulled away.

Without looking away from the eyes I swam in every day, I loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then his jacket.

My fingers worked and unclasped the buttons of his button up. With each one I unbuttoned, I kissed down his skin. I felt the way he shuddered under my breath, my lips, and I was reminded all over again the real effect I had on him. His heart beat erratically, his breath wavered.

I kissed all the way down his body until I was on my knees. The shirt slipped from his shoulders. He pulled from his shoes and pushed them away. Then I pulled his pants off fully; obviously they were already unbuckled.

He moaned my name, and somehow this was more intimate than him putting his cum in me.

”Come here,” he said before I could take his underwear off. I stood. He kissed me again, but he pulled me. His lips pulled me, his hands.

I followed him into the bathroom.

Looking back on it, every decision he made was calculated. He always allowed me my fun, but he never skipped a step or a plan.

Colby flicked the light in the bathroom on and he pulled the stool at the wide granite sink away for me. I sat and looked at myself in the mirror.

A flush matched my messy makeup and painted my skin. For as dressed as my hair and face were, my body sat completely bare. Naturally I considered cowering away, but he would never allow that. I froze as he stood behind me and ever so gently, began pulling the hair pins from my hair and setting them on the sink.

Pretty sure I melted then and there as if nothing that had just happened, happened.

I watched his face as he focused. With every pin, a strand of hair cascaded down my skin. Goosebumps spread over the touches. He kept the hair down my back and didn’t allow it in front of me. I knew that was on purpose; I would have covered my nipples with the strands.

When my hair was completely free, he left the bathroom.

”Colb—“ He immediately returned with my bag. He opened it. He grabbed the smaller bag inside of it knowing my brush and makeup remover were in it.

I could have been shaking from the chill in the bathroom, but I think it was from the warmth that pooled in between my legs in my underwear. I knew my eyes were darkened with thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror as he brushed my hair.

The fact that his cum pooled in my underwear while he did the sweetest, gentlest thing he had ever done for me turned this into the filthiest memory I had.

He must have known that this memory would get me on his knees for him every day for the rest of our lives.

“Stop that,” he finally broke the very long silence. I don’t think we ever sat in such a long silence without one of us sleeping.

”Stop what?” My voice caught. We ignored it.

”Staring at me like you’re going to eat me or something.” I laughed.

”Obviously,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes away. He laughed at the heated blush on my face.

”God, you’re so beautiful. Insane in my hands.” He left the brush on the counter. “Take off your makeup and we’ll go lay down, okay?”

”Okay,” I nodded.

I knew he wanted to shower, but he wanted me to sleep with his cum in me more.

After I was finished cleaning my face, he shoved me back down on the stool. I gasped when he got on his knees in between my thighs. Darkly, his eyes glanced up at me for a moment and then he looked at my skin where he touched me.

As his fingers drenched the skin of my legs, he tugged the garter on my thigh off with his teeth. His breath left hot chills trailed behind.

When the early sun woke me up, I realized he purposely didn’t draw the curtains so we could wake up without an alarm but still on time. We woke up very much so on time; we didn’t need to leave for the airport for another three hours. It was six am. I opened my eyes and rolled to him. His body was on fire, and my skin writhed at the feeling of his hard he was against me already. Before he choked out his first word, I straddled him.

“Baby,” he moaned, hands rested on my hips. I still wore my underwear like he wanted. His eyes fell down my body and landed on my underwear. “Off. Need these off now,” he demanded as he played with the frayed edges of the tear he caused. I raised my hips and pulled them down. His refreshed eyes didn’t miss a second of my body that was revealed from under the white fabric.

”Holy shit—“ he gasped, and that was how I realized we mixed—our fluids mixed—in between my legs and still connected my underwear to me. He didn’t spend another word. He threw the lingerie aimlessly and grabbed my hips with a force, a dominance, he didn’t use last night. I squealed as he yanked me back down on his lap.

My eyes rolled back when we both thrusted my hips across him; up and down.

And when he filled me, when he shoved me down on him, I rode him until we both neared tears and more of his cum stuffed inside of me. The sun had barely awakened the city.

He washed my hair and my body in the shower that morning, and I was glad I woke us up so early so that our third round in seven hours was under that hot shower rain. It was less the rain that washed clean our mess between my legs and more his tongue. More within this night had he fallen to his knees for me than I could remember. So, naturally, I fell on my knees for him after.

We stood at the wide mirror and talked as we got ready.

Our flight to Wales was in an hour and a half.

And my stomach was in knots.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that this was the true start of the rest of our lives together, and not only that, we were on our way to an entirely different country alone to stay alone for a week without distractions. We’ve traveled together before, but I knew that nothing was about to compare to this.

Only through TSA did he pull his hand away from mine.

I didn’t even think about it.

Not even a millisecond of time was spent worrying about anyone else. Not our families, our friends, or our work took up a second of space in my head. I was torn apart for choosing the honeymoon location. While discussing it with Colby, we realized that we both already wanted to come here. He had been here with Sam before once while on their Europe trip. This country was simply romanticized in my head by the books I enjoyed.

The grass was infinitely greener than I anticipated considering the chilling weather. When I touched the grasses and blades of bristles that show from the soft earth, they weren’t soft or warm, and I snapped my hand back with a smile.

The room was blue, I think; more windows spanned the walls of the bedroom than an actual expanse of drywall. The spindles of the bed were high and came together only a hair from the ceiling with white satin draped past the plush duvet. My fingers grazed the stitches in the duvet cover. He was behind me.

I figured we would get accustomed to this house in a few hours.

We would get accustomed to each others’ bodies again in the meantime.

First, his hands raised to my waist like they did so often.

Then he spun me around violently; that same gentleness must have run thin from our hours of travel. The sun set behind the horizon already and orange bands through the winter clouds were the only light in the dim room.

He kissed me again and without being able to see, my sense of touch was heightened to the max.

My back hit the bed and my pants slid down; I wasn’t sure which came first. The next thing I knew, he was over me, and his hand supported himself next to my head. I only made out his silhouette as my hands touched every part of it.

“Oh fuck—“ he gasped when my hands harshly invaded the top of his pants before he could remove them himself. I couldn’t not say his name; at this point it was a habitual moan for me.

He kissed my neck and shoved my arms to the bed on either side of me. I didn’t even try to stop the embarrassing sounds that poured from me when he harshly fucked his hips into me at the same time that his teeth hooked on my skin. Now he could leave his mark. I knew he suffered the past month not being able to leave his love marks all over my body for people to see for the sake of photos. I yanked his shirt off forcefully before he dove back into tasting my skin.

He needed to make it up to me. There was a month of aggression, possession and need to touch, to claim.

“Fuck me,” I demanded. His breath hitched in his throat and the pressure from his hips doubled. “Fuck me so hard, Colby. I swear to God—“

I screamed when he suddenly pushed into me and didn’t give me a second to process.

”No need to beg, baby,” he hummed; his voice darkly quiet in my hair. I didn’t remember when he pulled himself from his underwear or when he moved mine. It was all too fast. He fucked the moans out of me. I thought my vision went blurry.

He raised to his feet and I realized that this was the second time we hardly made it to the bed since being married.

“Feel so good,” I whispered with moans broken by his thrusts.

“Get up,” he demanded. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. It was all too much. “Get up,” Colby spat and his hand linked around my neck and he yanked me up. I gasped and open mouthed kisses shared between our panting breaths. I rolled my hips into him and his eyes shut tightly.

”Turn over.”

Shaking gasps poured from me from the fire lit butterflies that those simply words shoved down my throat. I turned over. My knees almost fell to the floor, but he hoisted me up and shoved back into me.

”Oh my god, Colby!” And a loud lengthen moan streamed from him. I balled the blankets in my fists when he raised one of my knees onto the edge of the bed for a better angle.

I didn’t just see blurry, stars and colors swirled behind my eyes as well.

”Holy shit, my pretty wife, taking me so well.” I could have passed out from his words alone. Then his fingers grabbed me by the roots of my hair.

He yanked. My back bent backwards and I felt him push kisses and moans against my head, my neck. God, it was so rough too. It had only been a month since the last time he fucked me with that desperation of wanting to leave a piece of him inside, but it felt like the first. His other hand left bruises and purple crescent moons in my hips, my ass.

”Fucking hell—Get up, lay on the bed,” he finally broke and pulled out of me. So of course I scrambled to lay my head on the pillows naturally if it meant he wouldn’t be inside of me again until I obeyed. I watched as he grabbed things from his bag. “Will you give me your wrists?”

”Fuck,” I gasped and my hands shot above my head. “Yes, yes, yes.” And he laughed at my enthusiasm. He tugged my shirt off.

A gasp sucked through his teeth fast enough that I knew they burned from the chill.

Even in the dark, his eyes devoured the way my fair skin contrasted with the dark lingerie that laced over my chest. He yanked my pants off the rest of the way and his eyes fell lower.

”You wore this all day?” He gasped.

”I put it on when I went to the bathroom in the airport.” A deep breath slowly left him. Then he leaned over and clicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.

The orange glow drenched my body, and I writhed under his intense gaze. I knew he ripped the thick lace apart in his mind. I waited and waited for him to actually do it.

Instead, he grabbed something he laid on the bed a second ago. The world stopped spinning when he lifted his wine red tie and wrapped it around my hands and a portion of the frame of the bed below the headboard. My heart was in my throat; the same tie he wore when he sealed our marriage with a kiss in front of our closest friends and family was now the fabric that tied me down to his bed. Our bed. It didn’t matter what physical bed we were in; it was ours.

”Pull, baby,” he sighed. The way his voice was smooth like he talked me to sleep as if he wasn’t tying me down thinking of all the ways he could rip my clothes off. I tested the makeshift cuffs but we knew it didn’t matter; he was entirely proficient in tying me down.

Fingers started at my throat and they painfully slowly dragged down my skin. Chills waved down my cold skin in their wake, and he rounded my heat and followed the band of lace that dipped an inch lower down my rib cage. The strap of matching lace around my waist that hooked onto my matching underwear were what his eyes drowned on next. He tugged on one of the stretchy bands that connected them and snapped it back. I winced.

”You’re going to kill me,” he simply said. I nodded like that’s what I intended.

I held my breath when he picked up my vibrator from the bed.

”Colby—“

”Sh,” he said with finality. The vibrator hummed to life. “You’re not about to tell me what to do, right?” I shook my head furiously.

He shoved it against me over the lace.

I gasped and my back arched. His hand held my side; thumb stroked across the lace.

”So fucking hot, holy shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

”Why-Why are you holding back?” I moaned.

”You don’t want me to? I won’t be nice.”

”Tear me apart, Colby.” His eyes darkened, unblinking. “Do you not want to use me? Claim your wife?” His nails jutted into my skin and I gasped a moan.

He turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

I screamed. My eyes rolled to black as the pleasure washed over me—more so drowned me under tons of ocean weight—and he firmly held my hips down and pressed it tighter against me.

”You want me to use you?” My skin crawled. His voice still hardly trespassed a whisper. “How could I expect anything else from my slutty wife, hm? Tied to my bed, dressed like a whore, and begging for me and teasing me with that filthy mouth?”

“Colby—“ I gasped with a shaking seriousness.

”What? Realizing you bit off more than you could chew?”

”Colby—“ I warned him, loudly this time.

”Cum,” he demanded. “You wanna act like my slut? Then cum for me.”

That’s what I warned him about; I was too glad that he demanded from me what I couldn’t control.

My climax blinded me and the pleasure only lasted for a breath before overstimulation stung me. He didn’t budge though. Not as I writhed, kicked, and tried to twist away from him.

”You fucking kick me again and I’m tying your legs down too.” I couldn’t even respond to that jeer. His voice picked up now and a sick part of me couldn’t get enough of it.

“Please,” I begged. “Can’t breathe—“

”You know our safe word,” he teased. My mouth closed. He scoffed. “What I fucking thought. Just a dumb slut who wants me to ruin her.”

“I’ll be so-be so good for you, please! Your fingers—Give me your fingers, please!”

”God you sound so pretty crying for me to fill you,” he sighed as his head lulled to the side. Completely enthralled; his eyes only blinked as much as necessary.

Moving my underwear to the side just enough for his fingers, Colby’s lips parted as he teased my slick entrance.

”Plea—“ He pushed three inside of me. “Oh shit,” I gasped. “Oh shit, yes, yes please.”

”You love it, hm? Love it when I fill you? Fuck you senseless?”

”Yes! I love it, I love it so much.” I tightened around him when the waves of pleasure built again. He shook his head quickly before the words even started.

”Don’t cum.”

”What?” I gasped. “Col—“

“No, I said don’t cum. You told me you wanted me to fill you and fuck you, so how about you take it first? Then maybe I’ll be nice if you cry hard enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tears already flooded my eyes.

Colby leaned over me. His lips hovered just out of reach. They parted as if he breathed too heavily to contain himself, and a parted smile shined down at me when I couldn’t gather myself. I whined when I couldn’t kiss him or touch him or reach him. I could only feel him the way he wanted me to.

”Please,” I gasped quietly.

”Please what?” His soft voice whispered. My eyes shut tightly, a tear fell. I wouldn’t be able to see that cute smile and listen to that gentle tone without imagining his fingers fucking me harshly and his other hand pinning a violent vibrator against me.

”Let me cum.”

”You’re not demanding me to let you cum, are you?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with question.

”N-No, please, Colby, please let me cum on your fingers, please.”

“Aw you sound so sweet, baby, trying to sound like my good girl?” The teasing made it unbearable. Yes, the vibrator made me lose my sense of self, but that venomous teasing gave it to Colby. Everything that I am was in his hands, his control.

“Yes! Been so good for you let me-let me cum already I can’t-I can’t control it—“

”Good thing you’re not supposed to,” he said. “I’m the one who tells you when to cum, okay?”

”Yes-Yes Sir, you-you—Please! I’m so good for you, wait-wait for you—“ I lost control of my voice.

The pain from the overstimulation dissipated.

My hands didn’t pull on the restraint anymore.

Colby kissed me sweetly. His lips and tongue left soft kisses down my neck.

”Yeah, that’s right, good girl,” he whispered calmly. He moaned and looked down in between us before he rose to his knees again. “You’re so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect. Fucking cum—oh my god—cum for me, baby,” he finally told me. And I let go.

I moaned his name and I fully relaxed into it, into the pain and the pleasure, and everything he gave me. I knew I drenched him. I added to our mess. I couldn’t tell if he lost control of himself or if I blacked out, but the next thing I knew, he finally filled me again.

”Holy shit—Colby—“ I cried. Finally his moans met my ears, and I almost crashed into that pool of pleasure all over again.

He fucked me as harshly as his fingers just had, and I watched his sweaty face twist in pleasure through blurry tears.

His free hand moved to my throat; his forearm rested on my chest for support. I whispered his name. Another warning.

”You going to cum one more time for me, my love?” He gasped breathlessly. “I’m so close, will you cum with me?” I nodded quickly even though I didn’t want this to end. I lost track of time when his body made itself home in mine. ”Oh shit!” He finally broke and raised himself to his knees.

I watched as he raced a hand through his hair; fingers tugging at the roots as his eyes watched where he entered me.

”Cumming—“ I cried and his eyes flicked to mine for a moment.

The height of my orgasm hit me then he pulled out. I rode it out on the vibrator as his moans became music in my ears. He finished himself off; painted me with his release.

It took work for me to hold my eyes open. Between the pleasure and the way he looked painting me with his cum, I couldn’t really believe there was a heaven better than this one.

And he turned the vibrator off.

He sat on his knees in between my useless legs and panted.

I didn’t object when he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and took a flashed photo high enough to capture his chest down to my ruined body and my hands tied up to the bed. I opened my eyes when the flash was over and he fell over me; hand supported him next to my head. He showed me the photo with bated breath.

My throat coiled in on itself at the disgusting filth he captured. He was still enticingly hard, flushed pink, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight of his cum ruining my lingerie. My mouth watered at the pearly streaks of white that contrasted on the black lace and black ink on my fair skin under the lingerie. The red of his tie only enhanced the flush over my skin. Thin faintly black tears raced down my face.

I was a mess.

A disgusting mess that somehow made my knees weak all over again.

”You’re such a good artist, husband.” The phone fell to the blanket under us as he burst out laughing.

His thumb linked under my chin when he kissed the life out of me.

”Needed to at least put my signature on my work, yeah?” I laughed back at him and he planted more kisses on me. Then he untied my hands.

They fell to the bed and my eyes widened. I still hadn’t gained much control over my body.

”It’s okay,” he whispered and brushed my hair, my sides.

”I know,” I sighed as I rose from my subspace.

“I’m right here, love. Always right here.” He kissed my skin as I came to.

”Is it gross that I don’t really want to shower?” Colby laughed again.

”I’m not sure,” he teased and sat back to his knees to look at my body again. “I mean, if you take a shower with me I’ll wash you for you.”

”Yeah, with your tongue like you did this morning?” A fond smile.

”I’ll wash you, I’ll touch you, and I’ll make you feel good however you want, my wife.” I smiled. We both couldn’t get used to—get over—the titles.

”Fine, then carry me to the bathroom, my husband.”

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

#colby brock #sam and colby #sam golbach #18+ only #minors dni #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #rosie writings #rosie hub

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sugarnspice630 · 6 months

Text

Happy Halloween - Seonghwa

“You look so pathetic~.”

•pairing: dom!seonghwa x gn!sub!reader

•word count: 3.1k

•tags: mdni, smut, hide & seek game, masked seonghwa, primal pray play, cnc, reader says "no"/"stop" but doesn't mean it, knife play, seonghwa is an absolute menace, degrading + praising, pet names, name calling (whore, slut, etc.), teasing, hair pulling, picture taking after sex,...did I miss anything?

Summary: Reader expressing their need for masked Seonghwa to fuck them and he certainly delivers.

A/N: I tried to keep the pronouns gender neutral the best I could, but there might be a slight fem lean to things! Please let me know what you think! Happy Halloween and happy reading!🎃

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Texting him all day about your crazy thoughts, especially after you saw that clip of him from the Don’t Stop music video behind the scenes where he ripped the mask off his face and stretched his neck while rolling his eyes back, looking super sexy…yeah you know, *that* Seonghwa. You told him you wanted nothing more than for him to use that mask again and hunt you down in the dorm, playing hide and seek, while really wanting him to catch you and have his way with you. Of course, he only fueled your fantasy by saying things like “we’ll see what happens~”, “perhaps later tonight we can have some fun?”, and other provocative things.

He finally came back to the dorm after his schedules, but the other members were still away for the time being. You ran up to him, eager to not only see him, but to see if what you were telling him earlier in the day would come true. It was Halloween after all, what other perfect time to act like a crazed, masked, serial killer?

“Still wanna have fun~?” You teased as he softly rubbed your back.

“Hmmmmm.” He hums softly and lets go of you. He knew what you were hinting at, but he was just toying with you like he had been all day. You cross your arms and scowl at him, kinda irritated that he had been teasing you for this long and now would not do anything about it. Suddenly, he forcefully grabs your arms and lifts both of them above your head, pushing you back into the wall that was beside you. Your eyes go wide at the sudden action and you feel your face get red.

“You were saying~?” He growls softly and inched his way closer to your face, the proximity of you two causing extreme sexual tension. Him towering over you, driving you absolutely insane.

“I-I was uh-.” You could barely speak. You gazed up at his eyes and he was staring at you lustfully, looking over every ounce of your body, practically undressing you with just his eyesight. “H-...Hide and Seek?” You manage to get out, completely flustered by your closeness to him. He looks you over a little longer before letting your arms go; they fall to your sides.

“Go,” He says deeply. “15 seconds.” He’s staring at you with deep, hooded eyes. So much seduction is hidden behind them. Your body freezes for only a moment before you shoot him a quick smile and run away from him to find a hiding spot.

14…Counting down the seconds in your head, the panic sets in on where you can actually hide.

13…You don’t want it to be too obvious because you want the game to last at least a little bit.

12…Your heart rate is increasing with every second wasted.

11…Think Y/N, think!

10…An idea pops into your head and you immediately move your feet to get there.

9…You find yourself in the kitchen and there is a space below one of the countertops you think you can squeeze into.

8…Crawling down to the floor…7…You squeeze yourself into the little opening…6…it was tighter than you thought, but there is no time to change spots now.

5…You try to calm your breathing to not give your location away…4…You close your eyes, and pray that he won’t find you.

3…2…1

“Ready or not, here I come Princess~.” His deep, seductive voice echoes through the dorm. His tone sends a chill down your spine, but now is not the time to shudder it out. “Should have gone to the bathroom before he got home.” Silently cursing at yourself. Actually uncertain if you have to pee, or it’s the arousal that is slowly brewing within you.

You hear Seonghwa’s footsteps get closer to your general area. You carefully put your hands up to your mouth to silent your breathing. Seonghwa was wearing platform boots that with every step they clunked and the closer he got to your position, you could feel the wooden floor vibrate. Slowly making his way around the dorm, one slow step at a time. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, and you can only hope that you are not breathing too heavily as the beating of your heart fills your eardrums. Seonghwa gets closer to the kitchen and you try to hold your breath, to not draw attention to your hiding spot. He taps his fingers across the countertop as he makes his way through the kitchen, a habit he picked up from watching ASMR, which should be peaceful and satisfying, but in fact, is the exact opposite in this situation. The slow tapping of his fingers was replaced with the harsh sound of a knife being pulled out of the knife block, located almost directly above you. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel yourself getting lightheaded from how long you have been trying to hold your breath.

Little to your knowledge, Seonghwa had already seen where you were hiding because of the small crack at the bottom of the counter back piece. He really was toying with you at this point, giving you the most authentic experience. He continues to slowly trudge around the kitchen, enjoying the tiny whimpers you made with every step he took. You felt like you were going to pass out at any second if this continued for much longer. Claustrophobia kicking in, you feel your body getting hot and sweaty, and not because your boyfriend was about to fuck your shit up. Your hands becoming clammy, your throat becoming dry because you dare not try to swallow and have your stupid throat make that stupid airy noise and give away your position.

Seonghwa rounds the corner where the counters end and is now on the side where he could see you. His footsteps approaching closer, and closer, you try to delicately squeeze yourself further into the space, trying to not make any noise or sudden movements. Your head is now pushed into your knees and you have your head turned to the side where you can see the living room, but also the very edge of Seonghwa’s boot on the floor in front of you. Seonghwa is fully aware you are hiding right below him, but he steps away, giving you a false sense of hope. You squeeze your eyes shut one more time, hoping that he’ll go away and this “nightmare” can be over, but that unfortunately doesn’t happen. You feel a soft 2 taps on your shoulder and you can only sob as you feel your heart sink down into your stomach and your body becomes cold. You’ve been caught. You’re cornered with nowhere to run. Exactly what Seonghwa had wanted.

He grips onto your arm and pulls you out of your hiding spot, definitely gripping hard enough to bruise your skin. You try to squirm away, kicking your feet and slapping at his arms, using your elbows to drag yourself across the floor, back away from him. He only gets closer to you, and you can tell he’s pissed off. You look up at him for the first time since you left his sight, and you are met with a surprise. The mask. He must have somehow brought it home with him and put it on while you were hiding. He grabs your legs and pulls you close to him, his body towering over top of you once again.

“NO!” You scream out, “GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!” If anyone was around, they would genuinely think someone broke in and was robbing you…but no one was there to save you.

“Time’s up little girl~.” He growls as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to his bedroom, or your shared bedroom. You are still fighting for your life in his grasp, punching his back with your fists and kicking your legs, but it’s no use. The grip he has on you is too strong, and not like you really want out anyway.

“S-Stop! Put me down!” You scream out, still flailing your body around as he makes his way to your guys’ bedroom. “PARK SEONGHWA~!” You scream bloody murder, but it has no effect on him. Your vocal chords are for sure going to be shot by the end of the night.

You feel your body get thrown down and thankfully the soft mattress takes away some of the impact. Your body is shaking with fear and you can feel your eyes start to water. Seonghwa slowly makes his way on top of you on the bed, trapping your hips with his legs. You lightly kick your legs to the side and turn your head, hoping to throw his body off of yours, but that doesn’t work.

“N-No.” You cry out softly as his masked face gets closer to yours. Cowering in fear, you can’t bring yourself to look at him, closing your eyes and turning your head to the side. He tenderly grabs your chin, rubbing his thumb across your lip before twisting his hand harshly so your face is straight back at him.

“Open your eyes.” He demands softly. You open one eye and whimper when you see how close he is and that stupid mask. The mask you once thought was so hot, but now that it was directly in front of you, it was even hotter.

“Y-You don’t have to do this.” You plead, your voice breaking in between words. Seonghwa can feel your body trembling under him and he only smirks, which you can’t see, but you know that he is doing. In fact, you know he had been smirking this whole time. Seeing you scared of him awoke his primal instincts. He had to ruin you. “You're right darling~. I don’t have to,” Speaking softly, taking in the sight of your shaking frame and your watery eyes, “I want to." Those were the last words he said before he started to literally rip your clothes off of you. Throwing the shredded fabric to the side and getting aggravated when things would not come off fast enough. You could hear him groaning and growling anytime a piece of clothing got in his way. Not knowing what else to do besides toss your upper body around to fight it. Trying harder to get away from him and arching your back to again try to throw him off of you.

“N-NO!” You yell out at him again.

He grips onto your bottoms and pulls them down all the way, leaving you in only your undergarments. Now having enough of your bullshit, he takes one of his hands, grabs you by the hair, and tugs on it. You let out a whimper at the sudden pain. Seonghwa only lowly chuckles at your noises. Your eyes remain closed from when he gripped your hair. You are unaware of the item he just pulled from his pants pocket until you feel a familiar, cold sensation across the skin on your stomach. Your body twitches at the feeling and you open your eyes to see Seonghwa slowly dragging the knife he picked up from the kitchen across your skin and slowly making his way to your top. The tip of the knife dances delicately across your skin, and in no way causing any cuts to your skin, but pressing just enough to leave those little white after trails. Your heart beat increasing for the thousandth time that night. Seonghwa takes notice of your panic and only chuckles to himself before he takes the tip of the blade and pushes it down, not damaging any skin, and lifting your top piece up away from your chest.

“Hope you don’t care too much for this.” He teases before he lifts the top of the blade up and cuts through the fabric covering your chest. Your chest is now completely exposed to the cool air of the room and your nipples get hard. Seonghwa laughs softly as he watches your body change and toys the knife across your skin a little more.

“H-Hwa please…” You beg him and he only tilts his head to the side, looking at you but not actually looking at you. You watch as his shoulder shimmy up and down from the silent chuckles that leave him.

“As you wish, my love~.”

You can only watch as he undoes his belt, unzipping his pants and shimmying them just past his hips, enough to get them out of his way. Shaking your head side to side slowly and you feel tears start to well in your eyes. The fear inside consuming you. Seonghwa suddenly lunges forward, his body once again over top of yours. He yanks your underwear off of you, tossing it to the side and pushing your legs back towards you to have access to what he wants. He swiftly pushes himself into your hole and your eyes roll back into your head. He pushes his whole self into you, hearing him groan as he does so and not allowing any moments to get used to the feeling. “S-Stop! P-Please!” He takes the knife and pushes it against your throat as he pulls himself out and shoves himself back into you again. You tilt your head back into the pillows behind you and moan. “S-stop!”

“But the fun just got started~” He toys as he keeps thrusting himself into you. Your body getting used to the feeling and taking him so well, but you didn’t want him to know that. You wince as he keeps pushing himself deep into you.

“T-This isn't fun!”

“You sure~?” He thrusts his way inside you again and keeps himself there and harshly smacks the side of your hip with his free hand. You can’t help but moan loudly at the feeling and your face gets super red from embarrassment. Seonghwa laughs sadistically as he resumes pushing himself in and out of you at an alarming pace. You take your hands, place them on his chest, and push up into his body, trying to force him off of you yet again. This only causes Seonghwa to push the knife deeper into your neck and shove himself into you forcibly.

“Good try~.” He coos out. You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. Your body slowly becoming overwhelmed by the force of his thrusts. “Can't hide like that princess~. You already tried~.” Referring back to your match of hide and seek where he pretended not to see you as you closed your eyes, hoping he would disappear if you couldn't see him, but you see where that got you.

“M-mm~! P-please stop!” Your voice becoming hoarse from the screaming and pleasing.

“Fine by me~.” Seonghwa says before he takes himself out of you and for a brief moment you think it’s over and this is where the fun ends, but that moment is short-lived as you feel him grab the sides of your body and flip you over onto your stomach. He repositions himself and shoves himself back into your aching hole. Your face is pushed into the pillow on the bed and your scream is muffled by said pillow.

“God, I love it when they scream~.” Seonghwa growls out as he keeps forcing himself in and out of your body. He takes one of his hands and grabs your hair and yanks your head up off the mattress. His thrust brings tears to your eyes and the pain of him whipping your head back causes a few tears to fall on your cheeks.

“P-please!” You beg, hoping that he’ll hear how broken you are and put this to an end.

“Mmm~. Keep begging~.” Seonghwa moans out as he puts the knife back up to your neck and keeps pushing himself into you. Your breathing stuttered as you feel the knife right against your throat again. You cannot think of anything to say or do, other than panting and breathing out while occasionally letting out moans or whimpers. “Cat got your tongue~?” He teases as he thrusts himself into you slowly, but forcefully.

“N-NO!” You cry out from the pleasure of him now going slower but still treating you rough. He keeps thrusting into you at this nicer pace, but you can tell his thrusts were getting sloppy. He struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. “Fuck!” You moan out loud and bite your tongue immediately after you realize what just came out of your mouth.

“You dirty fucking whore~! Of course you'd like this~!” He pushes your head back down into the bed and keeps fucking you hard.

“N-no! I-!” You whimper out only for it to be muffled by the sheets. Crying loudly at Seonghwa abusing your hole and sobbing into the sheets. You hear Seonghwa groaning and panting, spitting out a few curses here and there. The pleasure builds up inside you, causing you to grip the sheets beneath you and moan loudly.

“S-Stop!”

“I'm boutta cum so wish fucking granted~!” Seonghwa calls out as his thrusts become more sporadic. You are a whiny, moaning, crying mess and you can feel yourself getting close to your release. Just a few more thrusts and you knew it would be over. Seonghwa groans loudly and you can feel his cock twitch inside you.

“F-fuck~ Y-Y/N~!” You moan out loud after he calls out your name and you feel yourself cumming on his cock. Seonghwa pushes himself in and out of you a few more times before pulling out and releasing on your lower back, moaning and panting heavily and rubbing himself through his orgasm. You softly fall forward onto the bed when he removes himself from you, breathing heavily, moaning and whimpering. You feel the bed sink down and Seonghwa is back on top of you. You feel his chest pressed against your back, slightly feeling his heart beating. You open your eyes to see his phone to the side of your face, with both of you in frame.

“Smile for the camera~.” He hums before he poses with his hand on top of your head, grasping your hair and snaps a photo of you two with your fucked out face being the main focus. Leaning back and looking at the photo he just took. You hear him softly laughing behind you. “W-what's...so f-funny?” You stutter through ragged breaths. He gently flips you over and he shows you the photo he just took.

“You look so pathetic~.” He pauses as he takes the mask off his face, the exact same way he did in that video, knowing that is what you have been wanting to see all night, “Happy Halloween whore.”

Tags: @hwalysm @choisanboobenthusiast @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ivehwas @shinestarhwaa

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captianprices40thson · 6 months

Note

Just read you're other story, it was awesome. Can you write one with male reader being married to graves and ale and rudy flirting with m/n, but every time m/n is like I'm married but never tells hes married to graves. And one day they are making out on the couch and ale and rudy walk in and are like " NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHY HIM OF ALL PEOPLE. " and " THAT SHOULD BE ME. "

Do you have a man? I don’t see a ring on your finger

Word count: 2.3k

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Graves (jk) None really. A lot of fluff, Los Vaqueros and Graves have beef, Alejandro complains about white people (as he should),

Notes: Wrote the vast majority of this in class while listening to IT GIRL. You know this is gonna be good. And yes, if you've submitted a request the last three days after I posted my last fic, I’ve started to work on it. Gotten a lot more than I’ve expected so I’m trying my best lol. And Anon, if you want me to rewrite this or make something different, please just ask me to, I really don't mind. I'm not too proud of this one, but I hope I've satisfied you.

(Takes place before the Graves betrayal. Reader is not part of the 141, Shadows or Los Vaqueros, but a secret fourth thing.)

“Come on, Guapo. You’re bluffing.” Alejandro smirked, crossing his arms as he spoke. You chuckled, leaning back against the truck that Rudy was loading up. This wasn’t the first time he had accused you of lying about your relationship status. If you had a dollar for each time, you’d have enough to have another wedding.

“I’m telling you, Alejandro. I’m a married man. How many more times do I have to tell you?” You confirmed for the millionth time, a stupid grin on your face. Truth be told, you didn’t half mind their flirting, it made you feel better about yourself knowing that you still got it. The fact that they refused to believe that you were married, it was sort of funny.

“I don’t see a ring.” Rudy added in after he loaded the final bag onto the truck, a know-it-all look on his face as he walked up to you too. You rolled your eyes, refusing to move from your position because you thought you looked too cool not to. “No one wears rings during active duty, Rodolfo. You see Soap and Ghost wearing theirs?” You spoke back, pushing yourself off your spot on the car for two reasons. Them being, you thought it would be cooler and Rudy was moving to open the door your foot was suffocating.

“No, Ghost wears his ring around his neck. Also I’m pretty sure Soap lost his.” Alejandro commented, making eye contact with you. It wasn’t for long because you immediately closed your eyes as you scoffed.

“Well, that’s Soap for you. I guess I just prefer to not wear mine.” You reasoned, looking over to Rudy, to Alejandro and then over to a whistle that just sounded American. That always made you smile, seeing Graves whistle his Shadows like they were dogs.

“Oh great, it’s the gringo.” Alejandro hissed, causing you to turn your head and shake it a bit.

“Hey.” You scolded him like he was a child and had just said he hated something, which was kind of true. Los Vaqueros had a sort of special hatred for Graves, perhaps it was because he was the most American man you’d ever meet, perhaps it was because he was just kind of an asshole. You’ve been trying to get them to get along, but so far it would only work on Rudy. He was the kinder of the two, it was clear.

“Alejandro. We talked about this.” Rudy chimed in, causing Alejandro to hold out his arms in disbelief. He dropped them to his sides and pointed over to Graves.

“Is it my fault he’s so white? I’m literally being blinded every time I look over at him!” He protested, causing you to chuckle a little. Rudy didn’t let himself smile, although he was internally.

“I know. It is very painful to look at him.” Rudy nodded, placing a hand on Alejandro’s shoulder and shaking his head like he was sympathising with Alejandro after he had been shot or something, not like he was complaining about white people. A valid complaint in most people’s eyes.

“I don’t even say it to any of the 141.” The taller man whisper-shouted, searching for sympathy from you. You smiled, shaking your head as you walked over to him and placed a hand on his other shoulder so you were now one big line.

“Oh yes, you’re very strong, Ale.” You patronised him, talking down to him like he was a toddler. Before he had time to punch you, Graves walked over. Sorry, not walking, strided like the sassy man he is.

“Alright gentlemen. Let’s get this show on the road. You coming with me, Y/N?” Graves smiled, looking over to you. Both Alejandro and Rudy looked over to you, knowing that you always travelled with Graves when you went to go do something. Not belonging to any of their groups, you preferred to travel with your husband.

“Ye-”

“Actually, Y/N will be travelling with us for this mission, Graves. He’s been with you every other time.” Alejandro butted in, placing his arm in front of you like you were going to run off to the man at any minute if he didn’t step in.

“You can’t just decide where he does and doesn’t go, compadre.” Graves tried to argue, but you gave him a look to say it was fine. He nodded, making a little symbol with his hands to tell you that you were to make it up to him later. You had created a lot of those symbols, knowing that it would be hard to communicate all your incredibly affectionate thoughts for one another.

Graves walked away and the three of you turned to the car. Rudy tossed the keys around in his hands, indicating you were to sit in the back because of course Alejandro always had to take shotgun if Rudy was driving.

“Who used this truck last?” Alejandro asked as he opened the passenger’s seat door, sitting down while you buckled in and Rudy turned the keys.

“Uh, It was you last, right Y/N?” Rudy asked, turning back to you. You gave them a thumbs up, your mind replaying why exactly you had used the truck last time. Makeout sessions were not easy to go on base, and the trucks had tinted windows.

“Wait what the…who the fuck did you have in here? W-Why is the seat back like that?” Rudy asked as leant back in the seat only to realise just how far back it was positioned. The taller man held the lever that would pull the seat back up for Rudy and before you could deny anything, Alejandro had something to ask..

“AND WHY DOES THIS CAR SMELL LIKE JAPANESE CHERRY BLOSSOM? WHO THE FUCK DID YOU HAVE IN HERE?” He yelled, causing Rudy to laugh to himself at seeing your guilty face.

“THAT'S JUST HOW I LIKE TO DRIVE!” You lied, trying to come up with an excuse for why the truck was like this. You were sure they didn’t believe you, but they didn’t say anything about it for a moment.

“Sureee, we believe you, love.” Rudy smiled, starting up the car and beginning to lead the rest of the group to the relocation point. You looked over at your hand in the backseat, wondering why you had chosen not to wear your wedding ring. Sure, it was impractical as hell to have on the field, but you could easily attach it to something else, like a necklace.

“What’re you thinking about, carino? Tryna make up a personality for your fake husband?” Alejandro asked, looking back at you from his chair. You frowned, like a full on cartoon downturned face.

“He isn’t fake, forehead. And what I’m thinking of is none of your business.”

“Oh I get it. It was sexual. You were totally thinking about Rudy and I.” “Don’t drag me into this Ale.”

“You helped me dig this hole, Rudy. You’re coming in with me.”

“Why do you make everything about sex?”

“Why do you not?”

“I’m a human that respects everyone around me, Alejandro. You don't…” You decided to tune them out, it was just the same bickering every time that somehow got you roped up in it. You’d heard it all before. They’d argue about something or other and eventually they’d make up when you forced them to, which made them want to flirt with you even more. You didn’t mind the flirting…it just got a bit tiring sometimes.

________

“Hey baby.” Graves smiled as you entered the small section of the base that was dedicated to the shadows while they stayed for the time being. You smiled, walking up to him and embracing the American man in your tired arms, just wanting to hold him.

“Hey Graves.” You mumbled into his shoulder, your voice being muffled by the fabric of his shirt. It was one of your favourites, a dark blue that suited him well. Graves reached a hand up, holding the back of your head and slowly swaying from side to side.

“How were your little cowboy friends? Better drivers than me?” Graves asked, making you groan, remembering how they were flirting with you all trip. The American chuckled at your response, continuing to hold you close.

“They just can’t seem to understand that I’m married. They think it’s impossible…I don’t know whether or not it’s a compliment and at this point, I don’t care.” You groaned, lifting your head up to meet his eyes. His smile, no matter how much of an asshole he was being, was always kind to you.

“Aww, baby.” Graves frowned, holding your face in his hands. You smiled and placed both your hands on his waist, both of you leaning forward to kiss. The two of you had missed the touch that you never seemed to get, this was a rare time.

You both went down to the couch, Graves on top of you as you made out. He moved one of his hands to hold you from the back and you put another in his hair, holding the platinum blonde locks as your passion rose to the surface.

“What the fuck?!” The accented yell caused you and Graves to pull apart and look where it came from. A very very shocked Alejandro and Rudy stood in the doorway, both caught off guard by the situation.

“W-What are you two doing here?” You asked as Graves pushed himself off of you so you could speak to the two men. They never visited this part of the base on purpose, avoiding Graves and his shadows like the plague.

“What are you doing here?” Alejandro retorted, pointing to the two of you with a confused look on his face.

“I’d say its pretty obvious what my husband is doing here.” Graves butted in, pointing to you with his thumb, causing both Alejandro and Rudy’s jaws to drop. You almost let out a laugh, instead choosing to hide your reaction and just look at them blankly.

“W-What did you say?” Rudy questioned Graves, looking over at him and then back to you. It was like he couldn’t believe that someone as sweet and kind as you…was married to Phillip Graves.

“Y/N is my husband. He wasn’t lying about being married, y’know?” Graves smiled a stupid shit eating grin at the two men’s reactions. They both looked over at him, then back to you seemingly in unison. You could only lift up your hands a bit and give a ‘sorry smile’ to them.

“B-But if not us…why him?” “COME ON, Y/N. YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER!” Alejandro added in, more fond of shouting than Rudy would ever be. You made eye contact with Graves while they yelled, trying to figure out why he was the one you were romantically interested in,

“D-Do you just have a thing for Americans?”

“Is he lying to you about how good of a person he is?”

“What type of car does he drive?” 'HE'S THE WORST, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

“Fuckin white people, taking everything anyone else wants.” "WHY HIM OF ALL PEOPLE?"

While the two Mexican men started rambling and guessing why you would be with Graves and not them, you and Graves decided to share another kiss while they argued, effectively shutting them both up.

“You two,” You started as now you finally had their attention. “We’re with each other because we love each other…simple.” You smiled, watching them take in the fact that you actually might just love Graves.

There was a silence while they processed that, a deafening silence and if anyone came past the room, they’d assume there was no life in there. It stayed for a minute before Alejandro spoke up.

“This isn’t over, white boy.” He vaguely threatened, making ‘watching you’ hand gestures and walking out of the room backwards, maintaining eye contact with Graves the whole time.

“What he said.” Rudy added on, quickly walking after him, just keeping his head forward. When Alejandro bumped into the wall while trying to exit, Rudy grabbed his shoulder and they both muttered something to one another, Alejandro rubbing his head as he left.

“Were they high? What was that?” Graves asked, completely confused on what just went down. You didn’t know whether to defend them or not, because to be honest, you thought they were as well.

“I have no clue…” You whispered, turning back to Graves and laying back down on the couch in the position you were in before. The blonde saw this and smiled, laying down back on top of you, not kissing you, just laying there.

“We can deal with them later.” He whispered, closing his eyes and just laying there with you. You smiled, placing your hand in his hair and mentally preparing yourself for whatever the dynamic duo were going to try next. You had no idea what it was going to be, but you just hoped they wouldn’t resort to trying to kill Graves. But, there was no saying what those men would stoop to to win your affection.

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