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talaok · 6 months

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The Mask

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You ask your husband Joel to buy a Ghostface mask to wear during your "alone time", and he’s more than happy to comply

Warnings: smut| mask kink, sir kink, degradation, threats of anal (but no actual anal), unprotected p in v sex, choking, Joel has a bit too much fun fulfilling your fantasy... but then also aftercare and soft husband!Joel cause ill always go back to my fluffy roots (also i don't specify it but obv they've talked about all their boundaries and everything, so they know each other's limits)

It had been such a stressful day that the last thing you had in mind was what had happened yesterday.

With Sarah wanting to change costume last minute because apparently she now hated the idea of being a princess and wanted to be a witch, with Molly's helicopter of a mom constantly calling you to make sure your daughter wouldn't get to the sleepover with lice or carrying a snack that god forbid had gluten in it... it had been such a hectic day that, once Joel finally managed to ride Sarah to her Halloween sleepover, all you wanted to do was lie in bed and hide under the covers... which is what you did...for twenty minutes, before you surrendered to the inevitable task of cleaning up the mess you'd made on the vanity from doing Sarah's makeup.

And it was then, as you were huffing and sighing loudly into what you thought was an empty house, that a figure appeared behind you, making your body run cold with fear, and your heart start to beat out of your chest.

You remained immobilized, frozen in your spot, watching from the mirror as the figure approached, backing away from where he was leaning on the door to walk towards you slowly...

And then you got it, your brain recovered from the scare and you pieced it together.

Such a quick conversation, such a quick decision you'd made as you shopped for Sarah's costume, that in all the chaos, it had managed to slip your mind.

"Ghostface?" he'd frowned once you handed him the mask "I don't think Sarah's even old enough to watch that movie"

And at that you had smiled, looking up at him with that devilish smile you got whenever you got a special idea.

"it's not for her"

his brows knitted in puzzlement again

God, for being such a smart man he sure was dense sometimes

"You wanna dress up too sweetheart?" he asked, making you inevitably snort.

"No" you'd laughed "it's for you"

"for me? what would I need to put this on f-"

And that was when he got it, watching you bite your bottom lip, as that particular spark lighted your eyes, then, he finally put it together.

"ohhh" he he breathed, a smirk making its way to his lips as soon as he realized "Oh yeah, we're definitely buying this"

And that's how you ended up here, watching your masked husband grab your waist to host you up so you were flashed against him, against his tight black t-shirt and black jeans.

You couldn't feel his breath, but you could hear him breathe heavily beside your neck, right against your ear, looking at you from the mirror and studying you as if you were a pray.

Now this wasn't the first time you'd asked him to do something... kinkier, you had made him buy a blindfold, you had your fair amount of toys locked in your bedside drawer, and you were sure some rope and one of those little leather whips you'd purchased once were still somewhere in your wardrobe, but this, the dressing up, the putting on a mask... this, you'd never done, this was all new...

And god were you excited.

"so..." he spoke, his voice huskier than usual, a giveaway of just how much he was enjoying this too already "You've got a boyfriend?"

Now if he got to play the part, so wanted you.

What fun would this be otherwise?

"I've got a husband" you murmured, your voice faint, seemingly scared.

"mh..." he hummed, his head tilting downwards as if he was looking at you up and down "Lucky husband"

You wanted to say something, anything, but before you could even breathe he had turned you around, his strong, veiny hands gripping your waist.

"P-please" you shut your eyes "Please don't hurt me Mr. Ghostface"

A faint chuckle came from beside the mask

"It's sir" he corrected

Oh he knew you so fucking well

"I-I'm sorry... sir" you whimpered, trying to get used to not getting to look into his hazel eyes, but instead into two big black holes.

"A-are you gonna hurt me, sir?"

His thick fingers caressed your sides, as he took his time answering you

"no" he finally said "Not if you behave" he explained, his grip tightening, a simple gesture, a simple threat "Are you gonna behave y/n?"

"y-yes" you nodded, actually believing it now, actually losing yourself in the fantasy.

He didn't need to say anything, all he did was tilt his head, and you had realized your mistake.

"yes, sir"

"good girl"

Just two words, and your panties were drenched.

He didn't speak, all he did was break away from you to walk backward until he could sit on the edge of the bed, watching you expectantly.

"go on"

that's all he said, and fuck but that's all you needed.

Your eyes remained on him as you took off every piece of your clothing. You started softly tugging your shirt off, listening to his breathing falter, then you got rid of your pants, then it was time to undo your bra, and then finally, finally you were shuffling your panties down your legs just to step out of them.

A whispered groan fled his lips at the sight, and he couldn't help but stand up to meet you.

His right palm landed on your asscheeks before you even realized what was happening, and a soft whimper escaped your throat in response

"real lucky husband" he growled

An hour ago, you were trying his daughter's Halloween costume on her in this exact room, and now there you were, naked, in front of your masked husband.

"please sir" you pleaded

"What?" he hushed "What do you want?"

He was slowly rounding you, bringing a hand around your torso with him, sending shivers everywhere they could be

"I-I"

"I want to hear you say it" he purred, right against your ear now "I want to hear you beg for my cock, beg for me to fuck you, I know you want it"

"I- Sir, I-"

"I want you to admit just how much of a slut you are" he murmured, now in front of you "I want you to admit just how much you want it"

“Please Sir-i need you”

“Mhh” he hummed, “what do you need?”

His left hand started a slow path down your belly, igniting shivers with his touch, until he was right there, and all he did was cup your pussy and he broke you completely

“You, I-inside of me” you whimpered

"is that right?" he taunted, tilting his head

"yes" you nodded "yes, please sir-"

But once again, he had turned you around like a doll, powerless to his strength, and stole your words from your tongue.

The table rutted from the impact once he pushed your back down on it, your head almost hitting the hardwood.

"Is this what you want?"

His rough jeans and hard bulge were flashed against your bare ass, making you squirm.

"answer me" he demanded, gripping your hair to yank your head back so you could look at him from the mirror "I asked you a question"

"yes" you murmured "Yes please"

A snicker made its way to your ears as you heard the familiar sound of his zipper undoing.

"aren't you the little whore..." he growled, his insult only rendering you all the more desperate as he slapped his cock on your asscheeks "You'd let me put it anywhere I want?" he mocked, his tip infiltrating between your crack and probing at your other entrance "even in this pretty little hole?"

You gasped.

"I bet you would" he teased "I bet you'd let me do anything I want with you" his head tilted to the left, watching you biting your lip as you tried to keep a straight face, and failing miserably "you're just a poor slut that's desperate to be filled, you don't care in which hole, do you?" he asked now, "answer me"

"y-yes" you stuttered "I-I'm a slut, I'll take anything you'll give me sir, just please-"

"please what?"

"please put it in"

you couldn't see the smirk on his lips, but you sure as hell could hear it.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

And it was then, it was then that he trusted his whole length and girth inside of you with one single push, making you cry out into the thick air and forcing the whole table to shake just for him to not even wait a second, he didn't give you a moment to breathe, a moment to recover, no, he did the opposite... he started splitting you in fucking half.

All the remaining makeup on the vanity was tumbling down onto the floor one by one, but he didn't show signs of slowing down, or god forbid stopping.

The sound of his skin slapping with yours bounced off the walls with each merciless thrust, and you... you were fucking gone.

"look at that" his grip on your hair tightened as he forced your head back even more "I want you to see how much you like this" he groaned, his digits on your waist definitely leaving marks "How much of a slut you are" he spoke "how much you enjoy getting fucked by a stranger"

You wanted to say something, anything really, but as you watched your reflection, your eyes spilling tears, your cheeks wet and your mascara smudged all over... all your mouth could produce were moans, or whimpers, or curses not even belonging to the English language each time his dick hit that spot inside of you that made you want to scream.

"Look at that" Your scalp hurt as he fisted your hair more "Look at how fucking pathetic you look" he spit as you gasped for air and as you felt your belly tighten in that way it did before your release.

"you're gonna cum already?" he realized, his tone mocking "The slut likes it so much she's not even gonna last a minute?"

"Mh-mh" you hummed, "y-yes, I-it's too..." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles went white as the orgasm unexpectantly overtook your whole body, only letting you moan out a "good" before you were back to a non-verbal state and cried in pleasure.

He let you ride out your high, but as soon as you came down he had manhandled you and threw you on the bed back down, not even giving you a moment to realize what was happening before he had slipped his cock inside you again.

His hand took hold of your arms and pinned them above your head as you arched your back at the feeling of this new angle. It wasn't as deep but the way his pelvis rutted against your clit with each movement of his hips, made it all just as breathtaking, and speaking of which...

His other hand sneaked up your chest, diverting a moment to grab at your boobs before he was wrapping his fingers around your throat, first gently and then applying more and more pressure, until you were completely in a sensory overload and all you could feel was pleasure in its purest form.

"fuck-look at that, you're so desperate for this cock that your pussy's sucking me back in"

He taunted, his thrusts remaining as unforgiving as ever.

you had lost all touch with reality, this wasn't your husband, this wasn't you, this wasn't your bedroom this was- you didn't even know what it was, you just knew your brain had stopped working long ago, and you were on the verge of another mindblowing orgasm

"what would your husband think seeing you like this?" he purred as he forced your head to the mirror again, and this time, the image you were met with was only more of a mess, your cheeks red, your mascara nonexistent, and your mouth parted, desperately looking for air that it wasn't gonna find any time soon...

"drunk on another man's cock" he continued, his grip on your neck tightening to the point you were seeing black dots staining your vision "Not even able to speak anymore" he groaned "Look at yourself... such a fucking whore"

And then inevitably, as fucked up as that may be, those words sent you over the edge, your legs shaking and your walls tightening around him as you moaned louder than you'd ever had.

And at the feeling you were granting him, he couldn't help but follow suit, filling you up with a loud groan, until his juices and yours mixed as they ran down your thighs.

It took more than a moment for either of you to get back to reality, but as always, Joel managed to beat you to it, pulling out of you and taking his mask off, revealing his flushed and fucked out state as he whispered a low "fuck"

"sweetheart?" he called, stroking your cheek once you wouldn't open your eyes "Are you ok?" he asked "Did I go too far?"

"n-no" you murmured almost inaudibly as you shook your head "You were... perfect, I'm just" a yawn interrupted your words

Tired.

he didn't need you to finish the sentence, all he did was pick you up and place you softly on your side of the bed, positioning your head gently on the pillow

"stay here, I'll clean you up"

As if there was any chance you'd get out of bed after that

And he did, he cleaned you between your thighs with a wet cloth, gave you a tall glass of water to drink, and then set you under the covers just to join you a moment later, watching you crawl closer to him until each part of your body was touching one of his.

"Better?" he asked, petting your hair as you looked up at him with your head on his chest

"yes" you smiled "Thank you"

he stroked your back as he leaned down to kiss you "I love you" he promised

"I love you" you vowed back

He smiled too now as he leaned back on the headboard

"you wanna watch something?"

"sure"

"mhh" he hummed, pointing the remote at the tv "Got anything in mind?"

And there it was again, that dangerous dangerous grin

"How about Scream?"

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saleeba · 6 months

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fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

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sprout-fics · 1 year

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I feel like König is determined to make his partner squirt. Like straight up craves it. Wants to get EVERYTHING he can out of them and won’t stop!!!

König is a pleasure dom. You can;t convince me otherwise. Sorry not sorry

When you had confessed it to him, you had gotten a glimpse of his eyes. The shadows of the hood had obscured the surprise there- shocked, curious, dark.

“I’ve never squirted before.”

König was a soldier, first and foremost. He followed orders with little question, dedicated himself to duty, unflinching in his mission. Yet when you had entered his life that focus had shifted, twisting on its axis so it included you.

Your courtship had been a gentle, entreating thing. His words were always quiet but direct, a soft confession spoken in the shadows of a safehouse, in the shade of a ruined building. He was endlessly tender with you, as if afraid that any sudden movements would startle you from him like a deer in the glade, seeing nothing but your fleeing figure vanishing into the distance. It had taken time to convince him otherwise, and now König revered you, devoted himself to you less as something unattainable and more as something to win, to conquer.

So, when you confessed this to him, he had dedicated himself like any soldier would. He had consulted, researched, obtained supplies, logistics, and strategy until he was certain.

He waited until you were both on deployment, quiet and reserved until he’d taken you back to the shabby, sparsely furnished pace he called his home. Crowding you into the entryway, fingers fastening themselves on your pants, his words seizing at the core of you.

“Tonight.” he told you, and his words left no question. An order, an irrefutable statement with little room for error.

That had been hours ago.

He’s split you on his cock, taking his time to make sure you can accommodate his absurd girth and length. Yet he doesn’t thrust, doesn’t budge despite the seeping, scorching clutch of you around him. It’s enough that he’s inside you, at least for now. It’s enough because he’s bent over you, chest rising and falling rapidly as one hand braces above your head and the other rubs frantically at your clit. He’s gasping encouragements into your ears, desperate queries as to what it takes to make you fulfill that prophecy you spoke of.

“Like this?” He asks, and you’re gasping, eyes glazed over and finding his but unseeing as you search for that thing buried deep inside you, the one he seeks with such undeniable fervor.

“Y-yes.” You tell him, even though you aren’t completely sure, blissed out on the absurd stretch of him inside you. Your legs are trembling, calves pressed up on either side of his head. He never took the hood off, too keen and desperate to ensure your own release, to speak his promise into existence. “Harder.”

It’s not enough. You can feel the glimpses of it in the distance, but it’s a small wave compared to the tsunami he’s seeking. The force of it isn’t enough to drag you out to sea, to make sure you flood the length of him, drowning you both.

He can tell. He’s ever attuned to your body, strung as finely as the weapons in his hands.

“It’s okay, Leibling.” He murmurs, and you catch his eyes once more, glinting in the dimness of his bedroom. The sheets spool and tangle under both your forms, clenched just tightly as all the nerve endings in your body, singing for release.

He stretched past you, his mammoth reach grazing against the bedside table before he retrieves an object that seems absurdly small in his hands.

“This will help.” He tells you, and you catch a single moment of auditory buzz before the vibrator pulses against your clit and you arch into him with a cracked broken cry.

“Shhh.” He hushes, and there’s a hand petting your hair even as you pulse and thrash under him. “I’ve got you, Leibling. Almost there.”

The inertia of it threatens your senses. It’s almost too much and yet still not enough. You need more, need him.

“König.” You gasp, and the world is faded around you to obscurity. There’s no war here, no rapid pop of gunfire, or flashbangs or slickened slice of bloody flesh. Only him, only you, only your building, unfurling release that builds at the core of you where he’s buried deep inside. “N-need you to move. Please-!”

Your plea is broken off as he resumes his thrusts in gentle, rolling motions that pierce at the heart of you, grinding against the brightness that you so desperately want to unleash.

“Harder.”

He fulfills your request with little protest, hips drawing backward and setting a steady, unflinching pace that drags at your walls, batters at the helm of you even as he presses the vibrator down.

“Maus, Maus.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, fixate on his gaze. There’s something you’ve hardly seen there before- an intent, an obsession that feels almost unhinged, with your bare form squirming and arching and gasping under him, desperate for the thing he’s yet to give you.

“Schön.” He mutters, only to himself, and his eyes are hardly seeing as they gaze down at your face, slack, eyes barely seeing as he draws you ever closer to your climax.

He shifts then, forces his cock at just the right angle and you sing to him then, voice crying a high note forced from your throat as he bludgeons at just the right angle. He finds it again, then again, his aim ever true, the strength of him unflinching.

“There.” He tells you, and it’s enough, just enough to send you spiraling over the edge and into completion. Your voice is a scream you don’t hear as you arch impossibly high, driving him deeper just as something warm and liquid spills from you, coating you both in molten desire.

He’s still murmuring down at you as you come down, hand tangled with yours, trying to draw you back to him.

“Good.” He tells you, incapable of saying little else. “Good, Maus. Let me take care of you. It will be good, I promise. I promise.”

You can’t deny him. You’ve never been able to. You never will.

#König #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig x reader #könig imagine #18+#minors dni #smut #this was unhinged sorry #In my defense im desperately drunk #thursday night thots #drabbles

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zwierzodudle · 6 months

Text

proving elves (vampiric or not) can experience food coma too

don't worry about tav's blueish tint, he's a half-drow and that's just what he looks like- no shadowheart i SWEAR,

commissions \ ko-fi \ patreon

bonus:

#bg3 #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 fanart #fanart #zwierzart #i havent posted anything so doodly in a while but im having trouble finishing big pics for myself #and i guess at some point i got self conscious about the unpolished drawings #gonna try to change that. because posting sketches was fun!! i used to do it a lot #anyway that cutscene where he's drunk from bear blood is one of my favorites #so i can only imagine how absolutely wasted he would get from that much humanoid blood #sketches #tavstarion #tavell durge

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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Post AU-Happy Ending (read head, heart, hand cowards); Reader and Oliver drunkenly serenading Felix at karaoke with the absolute dumbest songs about how they'd do anything for him, such as I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles). Farleigh tries to tease Felix about it for half a second before Felix points out that no-ones offered to walk 500 miles for him, let alone two people. The song finishes, Reader sits right next to Felix and Oliver drapes himself across the both of them.

"You are the most embarrassing people I've ever met in my life," Felix mumbled, burying his grin against Oliver's chest, his hand on the reader's thigh, squeezing tightly.

"Fi's embarrassed to be in love," you sigh dramatically, leaning over to drape yourself against Oliver's thighs.

"Maybe we should rethink future grand, romantic gestures," Oliver clicks his tongue dismissively, hand coming to rest on your head, nails gentle and soothing against your scalp.

"Don't you dare," Felix can be heard, lips still against the fabric of Oliver's nice shirt and firm chest.

"Tell us you love us, then," you grinned, turning your face to Felix's, watching as he raises his gaze to meet yours, wicked smile on his face.

"I think I'm in love with the worst people I know," he smiles sharply, giving your thigh a squeeze, and you know his grip on Oliver is secure, "and I would have it any other way."

#im drunk is this anything???#felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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awearywritersworld · 2 months

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mdni

gojo in pearls gojo in pearls gojo in pearls

he has one necklace that's rather short, so it rests just above his pretty collarbones. the other is a bit longer, reaching the middle of his chest.

usually you like the shorter of the two better. his neck is so lithe, the pearls decorating it make it look even more graceful. but when you're in bed? it's a different story.

the longer necklace dangles over your face as his hips thrust against your own. the pearls brush against your nose and mouth with each desperate move he makes, and sometimes they get caught between your lips when he captures yours in a kiss.

#stop and the fact they'd match his hair #pretty pearls for a pretty boy #:))))#also hi hi hi!!!#im hoping to more active again!!!#had this thought while drunk on vacation but got embarrassed and deleted #but now its back😎#m!writes!smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk smut

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universal-verringbebe · 2 months

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As an incentive for my last post, here's my most recent brain rot of the main LI which is food related:

Zayne:

That's husband material right there

He's going to make sure you're taking care of yourself whether you like it or not

He's the type to show up to your apartment with a full course meal, unasked just based on your last hospital report

Best believe you'd have the most delicious balanced meals

And if you question him, he'd tell you it was only for his most important patients

And you're literally the only name on that list

He's the type to watch you eat to make sure you've consumed every last bite

And if there's a component you're not a fan of , he's taking notes and doing his best to think of replacements

Vegetarian? Say less, we're bringing tofu, soy beans, mushrooms, etc to the table

You're allergic to seafood (like me), he's making sure there's only meat or veggies that won't hurt you and you would enjoy eating.

The type to watch you consume things just to see your reaction and catalogue what gives you the most satisfaction

He's willing to put aside his own tastes just for your enjoyment.

RAFAYEL:

Bro just want to spend time with you

He's doesn't care what you do as long as he's by your side

Anything you say you're in the mood for, bet

He's looking up the best restaurants that appeal to your cravings

Imagine you thinking you're going to pay for your meal

You're sick for that, he's actually offended you would ever consider spending a penny

Tf is the point of making the art he does if he's not going to use the money to spend on all your foodie needs

You never have to to worry about eating too much

He just enjoys you enjoying eating and liking new things

But if you're allergic to seafood (like me) he's questioning if he can connect with you with his favorite dishes

Can he let the shellfish go for you?

Might as well give you up to onichinus and wait for your next life

Xavier:

He's along for the ride

The type to keep to himself until you say you want to travel

There's a place you saw in social media that has good food? Say less

He's taking you there even if he doesn't see the appeal

Just so he can see the adorable face you make when you get what you ordered

He compares it to other cuisine he's had in the past and promises to take you to where the dish originates

Might start getting sleepy during the meal which you mistake as the itis but it's just him needing to recharge

He'll say he'll make it up to you with his own cooking

You feel fear.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #im high key drunk and just imagining stuff #also im hungry #need to gobble them up

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navstuffs · 1 year

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Blind Date

Pairing: Leon x GN!Reader

Summary: Luis arranges a blind date for you.

Warnings: short fluffly/comedy one-shot, au (obvs), awkward reader, alcohol consumption (leon, reader can be drinking whatever)

Author's Notes: : hello, this is my first official leon fanfic! i have two or three more projects with him but idk when they will be coming out. i had lots of fun writing this and i hope you do have fun reading it! i used this video as ambiance for bar sounds if you want to imagine yourself there as you read it!

You enter the bar on a Saturday night, adjusting your jean jacket. The place is crowded, and your eyes glance around, looking for your date. Doesn't seem he has arrived yet. This would be your first blind date ever, and honestly, you didn't know why you were doing this. Luis insisted that you go; he knew a great guy, and Luis promised you would have lots of fun.

The hostess takes you to the bar counter, you sit and order your favorite drink before anxiously turning your head to the door. It is alright, he isn't late, you are just early. Fifteen minutes to be exact. Also, if he doesn't appear, you could use that as your social experience of the year, and Luis wouldn't be able to take you to any more social gatherings. Perfect.

"Waiting on someone?" You turn to the sudden masculine voice at your side, startled. The man is wearing a dark blue shirt, too tight for his chest, you think, and dark jeans. He has blonde hair, some hair locks in front of his face. And he is attractive. Like the type you would see on the cover of magazines as some sort of male supermodel.

"Mhm, yeah. My very first blind date, actually," You admit, ashamed, as the bartender places your drink in front of you.

"Oh? Do you know what they look like?"

"No. My friend said look, go there and give my friend a chance. Not a single tip, except his item is pink."

"And what is your color?"

"Something neon," Feeling silly, you point to the neon bandana around your neck. Blonde guy turns at your side, and you feel his blue eyes lock at your bandana for a second before turning back, sipping from his whiskey cup. You give another quick look toward the door. Nothing yet.

"You must trust this friend a lot to come to this date without even knowing what your date looks like."

"Tell me about it?! Luis said it needed to be like the first time meeting, or it would 'break the magic'! If I didn't trust Luis so much, I'd never EVER come to meet a man I don't even know the name!"

"You don't know his name?!" Hot blonde guy sounds shocked and amused. Well, you look foolish now.

"As I said, Luis told me it needed to be first magical meeting or something or wouldn't work?! Now you are making me feel silly, Mr...?"

"Leon. Leon Kennedy," You present yourself and shake his hand. Leon looks entertained, watching you look over the door again. Nine minutes still. You quickly glance in Leon's direction, realizing the size of his arms. He probably worked out a lot to have arms like that, damn. Could break you in half if he wanted in so many different ways.

"What do you think he looks like?" Leon suddenly questions, bringing you back from your impure thoughts. You can feel his side stare as you ponder.

"Mhmmm...fun? Smart? Easy-going? Less awkward than me on this?"

"What if he is more awkward than you?"

"Then, pardon my language Leon, but then we are both fucked."

"You don't seem to do this often," Leon affirmed as the most obvious thing in the world. You scoff.

"Wow, you figured that one now?"

Your attention is taken by the sound of the door opening. You turn, anxious to see a man with a long sleeve light pink shirt walk in. He enters, glances around, and looks at his phone. Shit, shit, shit. He is cute. Not as attractive as Leon, but oh well. Doesn't look so awkward, like you, he looks like he belongs to this place. You don't know what to do to yourself now, maybe if you sit differently, he could see your bandana better. Rolling your eyes because of your nervousness, you turn the bandana around, praying that he notices you.

He waves at you, prompting you to wave back. He walks in your direction, smirking ear to ear, and passes to meet his friends, leaving you mortified. This was not happening!

"Shiiiiiiitt...." You groan, resting your forehead down into the bar. Leon hides his mouth with his hand, holding back a laugh. You murmur to yourself, "Well, that was supposed to be expected, I guess, with my luck."

You get up, not looking in Leon's direction, asking for the bill. After this fiasco, you wouldn't stay at this bar for any minute longer.

"You know, thank you so much for being patient with me, Leon, it was really great, I appreciate that, and I hope you have a great nigh-" The rest of the sentence dies down in your throat as you see the small pink panther statue resting in front of Leon. Your stare goes to his face as he finishes his cup and turns to you, a teasy smirk on his lips, his blue eyes glowing in your direction.

"I don't think I am late, am I?"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy imagines #IM DRUNK ASF #IDK HOW EDIT THIS IS #but this fanfic is so special for me

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

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omg i am in love with your writing ab ghost... would you ever do a fluff ab clingy drunk ghost where he starts off insisting that he can't get drunk and then he just escalates to being all over you ghejirb

alright so honestly i don't see ghost as being the kind of guy to drink enough to get him drunk when he's by himself, but when he's with soap? yeah, completely different story. it's not that he's more comfortable around soap or anything, it's just that he gets a rise out of beating soap in competitions.

here's how i see it. you guys have just completed a long ass mission, weeks of stress and labor are finally over so of course, you guys get drinks to celebrate. now i see soap as the kind of drunk who only wants to get more drunk, so once he's had a few drinks he starts going around trying to challenge everyone else to drinking competitions. pretty much everyone says no because the thing about soap is that he's so competitive he'll drink until he drops dead. you say no bc u don't feel like blacking out and because it's ur turn to be designated driver (lord knows that even sober ghost drives like he's drunk), so soap goes to the only person who 1. is more competitive than him and 2. has a shot at out drinking him: ghost.

now, years of working with soap have enlightened ghost to his usual idiocy, so ghost is quick to shut him down, telling him that he "would be fighting a losing battle."

but tipsy soap is persistent as hell, so he keeps bugging and bugging and bugging him. and at this point, ghost is pretty tired and is just waiting to go home, so to get soap to shut up he agrees. and of course, drinking ensues.

the first few rounds are easy, ghost doesn't even flinch as he downs the drinks like they're water. at this point, soap is starting to get intimidated, so he demands that ghost have a few extra drinks to get them on even ground, considering soap was already tipsy when they started. you and the rest of the team watch with awe (and horror) as ghost swallows down the drinks like they're nothing, and if you're being honest, you're really excited to see how this turns out. i mean, for one, when ghost drinks he flips up the bottom of his balaclava, exposing his chin and his lips. it's always exciting to watch ghost take off his mask, even if it's just part of his face, and secondly, the way he shoots you a glance as he drinks, his eyes dark and enticing, his adam's apple bobbing with each swallow, the smallest drop of lost alcohol that drips down his chin -- which he's quick to wipe away -- it sends a swarm of butterflies into your stomach. plus, you've never actually seen ghost drink this much, usually the most he'll have is a couple of beers or a few glasses of bourbon, so you're curious to see just how much of a tolerance he has.

the answer? a crazy high one. the two are at it for what feels like hours, and there's no clear effect on ghost. meanwhile, soap can barely walk straight and is on the verge of puking at any given moment. at this point everyone is trying to get soap to give up. price tried telling soap that there was no shame in tapping out, and when that failed, he tried threatening soap with extra chores. of course this does nothing, and soap only tells price to "fuck off" because he's not his dad. at one point, gaz tried physically pulling soap away, to which soap promptly tried (and failed) to hit him in the face. even you tried to get soap to stop, although you'll admit you didn't try very hard, like i said, you're very excited to see how this plays out.

after a certain point, soap's pretty much blackout drunk. he's barely hanging on but his pride won't let him let go, much to the annoyance of ghost and the others. and so, in a final finishing move, ghost asks the bartender for a bottle of whiskey, which -- to soap's despair and the rest of the team's horror -- he finishes in seconds.

for a while, everyone is silent, and then soap just busts into tears. he knows it's over, ghost knows it's over, everyone else knows it's over. i mean, you guys just watched ghost down the equivalent of sixteen shots of whiskey like it was nothing. by now, you're starting to wonder if you need to get 911 on speed dial because there's no way ghost doesn't die from alcohol poisoning.

but to your disbelief, ghost's fine. or so you thought. after his defeat of soap, ghost made his way over to your seat for a chat. not that you were complaining, you were curious to see just how incomprehensible ghost's speech would be, but to your surprise he's speaking great. his speech is clear and you suspect the alcohol's loosened him up a little, because he's talking and cracking jokes a lot more. if you're being honest, you really like this new, laid-back ghost who's not so worried about maintaining his stony exterior; this new ghost that's wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him, even though he never would have showed that kind of public affection to you in front of the team when he was sober. and it's not that he doesn't like you or he isn't proud of you, it's the complete opposite. he's absolutely bursting with pride that you decided to date him, but he's just always been wary about displaying his love for you in public. after all, you never know what kind of shady people are lurking around in bars, looking for ways to hurt him, or even worse, you.

but when his brain is muddled with alcohol, all that paranoia goes away and ghost is more than happy to be all over you. first it's just one hand around your waist, but then when you get up to order another iced water for soap he's tugging at your shirt and holding your wrists so you can't leave him, and when you tell him that you'll be back in less than a minute, he's standing up and chasing after you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug as you talk to the bartender. he's burying his face in the crook of your neck and telling you it's because all the alcohol is giving him a headache when really he just wants to smell you; he's running his hands up and down your legs when the rest of the team is looking the other direction; he's trying to mouth at your neck through his balaclava and whining when it doesn't work, causing you to grin and roll your eyes at him as you lift his mask just above his lips to help him. he's trying to whisper sweet nothings against your ear but they don't make sense because the way you smell is so intoxicating he feels like he's getting drunk all over again, but this time he's drunk on you.

and after a while, ghost finally passes out. he's essentially laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest as his back rises and falls with every breath. his arms are wrapped around you, essentially caging you into your seat and he's so heavy you need to call price over to help you pull him off so you can drive everyone home. and when you all arrive back at the base, you slowly nudge ghost awake, taking special note at the way his eyes flutter open slowly. and then he immediately closes his eyes again, digging his head into your chest because this time he actually does have a headache, and so it's up to you to bring him to his room. and the entire time he never ever lets go of his bear hug on you, leaving you to have to awkwardly waddle all the way to his room with him essentially draped over you. and then when he falls onto the bed he drags you down with him, and you try to pull away just for a second so you can change and wash your face, but ghost's got an iron grip on you and so you're stuck in his arms, not that you mind.

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criminalskies · 9 months

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Drunk Aaron (REPOSTING ON NEW ACCOUNT)

I have a thought!! What about drunk Aaron? Like I’ve had this thought before but I’m so obsessed with the idea of helping Aaron up the stairs after a really good night with the team and then trying to get his clothes off to get him dressed in his pjs. Then he swats at your hands and is like “No, n—no, I’m in a relationship! Stop tryin t’ undress me😣.” And then messing with him and going “you are? what are they like?” And he looks up with sparkles in his eyes and he’s like “s’ pretty 🤭🥰” and that’s when you laugh and you’re like “sweetheart, it’s me. You’re in a relationship with me, now let me get you dressed okay?” And he gets so confused at first but then starts blushing when you take his jacket and tie off and is like “you’re so pretty 🥰” while you get him dressed 😭❤️❤️ - request from @ssamorganhotchner <33333

i don't think you get it IM OBSESSED!

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You knew it was a bad idea the moment the team was able to convince Aaron to grab the mic and croon in karaoke. He was only four drinks in but the only way on was upwards. He very rarely cut loose like this, particularly in front of his employees, but he was having the most fun you'd seen him have in months. You stood by as Penelope and Prentiss bought him wet pussy shot after wet pussy shot until their usually very measured, very nuanced, well behaved boss became a party animal.

He had long since shed his tie and rolled up his sleeves, his hair was cascading over his face as he sweat from the exertion of ruling the dance floor for the last hour. You had no idea your Aaron could do the splitz until he dropped to the floor of the bar, pointing his hands directly in the air and howling as his legs splayed out completely.

You can't lie about how much his confidence and freedom was affecting you, but given that the two of you hadn't announced your relationship to the team yet, you were trying your hardest to keep your arousal at bay, or at least to pretend the drool on your face was from the alcohol you'd had, not from the way your boss had undone his top buttons, and his dress shirt was showing off his broad chest.

Speaking of your alcohol, you tried to keep your drinks to a minimum, wanting to be able to take Aaron home and make sure the two of you make it to bed in one piece.

Aaron came back to the table, dropping down into the sticky booth, he was panting with exhaustion from his dancefloor efforts. He reached for your lime & soda you'd been nursing, chugging the ice cold beverage down before you could muster an 'excuse me?' as you watched his chest heave and the vessels in his neck and arms pulsate with his heartbeat.

"You know, Hotchner I had no idea you were hiding moves like that from us." You tried keeping every bone in your body from wrapping yourself around him like you wanted to, as half your team was watching from across the booth.

"Well, I have a few more moves but those are reserved for very special people." Hotch smirked at you.

"Oh, yeah?" You couldn't resist his bait, knowing you were putty in his drunken hands.

"Yeah, I think my partner would kill me if I showed you my finer moves." He looked more at Dave and at Spencer than he did at you, and you realised he was too wasted to recognise said partner right in front of him. "How about another drink, Morgan? Spencerrrrrr." Aaron asked, narrowly avoiding putting the pretty boy in a headlock as he questioned the table, swinging off the post in the outer corner of the booth. The team turned him down, and he trudged off to the bar to get himself another something to cool down.

"Sheesh, I didn't know Hotch was seeing somebody. Sounds awfully mysterious, huh?" Morgan opened the conversation to pry into Hotch's love life.

"I don't know," Emily chimed in, "seems just like him to be scared to tell us about them. He's got a lot of walls up, I'm just glad he let somebody in. Even if he's not ready to share them with us yet."

The team all seemed to hum in agreement, deciding to leave it be as their boss came back to the table with a beer and a rum and coke in either hand.

He sat down beside you once more, pushing you the rum and coke as he seemed to have remembered who you are to him, and your go-to drink. You figured in the state he's in you probably have a maximum of one hour before he gives away your whole relationship in a spill of word vomit (hopefully not actual vomit, at least) so you decided to take control of the situation, and put your arm around him as he takes his seat. It seems to go mostly unnoticed by the team as Reid has delved into a tangent on the difference between binge-drinking and regular drinking with their respective effects on the brain.

"How you feeling there, cowboy?" You whispered to Aaron, trying to gauge how long he wanted to stay at the bar.

"Pretty great." Aaron replies, with that wide, toothy grin and eyes like he's been stargazing into your own. He rests his head on the palm of his hand, elbow to the table, still giving you a puppy-eyed stare as Reid's tangent comes to a close. The team turns back towards you two, seeing you giggle at Hotch's loving gaze. You love seeing him this loose, free of all his masks and personas he usually has to wear to keep himself and the team, his family, safe.

You catch Morgan in the corner of your eye as he elbows Prentiss, whispering in her ear, feeling all four of their eyes on you and your suddenly lovestruck boyfriend.

"You know, I think the jig is up." you inform Aaron. You see a concentrated look overtake his face at the word jig, and he begins pushing himself up off the table and over to the dance floor. He stops, reaching out his hand to you, first.

"Let's show them the real jig, then." He suggests. You take his hand cautiously and let him lead you out onto the dancefloor, where the two of you continue to bust a move even under the patronising stares of six criminal profilers. You let Aaron pull you around by your hands, your hips, letting the music carry you both through the night knowing you can deal with the questions later.

The music cuts out and one of Aaron's FAAAAVOURITE songs comes on (as he so eloquently shouted in your ear), prompting him to become the bounciest FBI agent you've ever laid eyes on, and he's jumping around like a box-spring until suddenly, he stills. He clutches his stomach, drops your hand and runs for the nearest bathroom stall. Poor thing, he really only drinks like this a few times a calendar year, and since losing weight in his triathlon training he's particularly prone to all the side-effects of excessive drinking, much more than he used to be.

You throw Rossi a pitiful look as he follows after his friend, muttering something about being too old for this. It's almost half an hour later when the two of them emerge, Aaron looking far worse for wear, draped over Rossi's presumably very expensive jacket. Morgan and Dave load Aaron into your car, with your promise that you'll answer all the team's burning questions about your newly revealed relationship in the morning. That is if you can get the unit chief out of bed by 12.

Aaron doesn't say a word on the drive home, clearly enjoying the sensation of the cool passenger window of your car against his burning cheek, and you think he's fallen asleep. Perfect. You get to unload your 200 pounds of boyfriend into your sixth floor apartment and his body is as limp as a raw hotdog.

You manage to open the car door without his body spilling out, which you count as a small success.

"Aaron, Aaron sweetheart, we're home." You stroke his cheek, feeling him nuzzle against your hand, before his eyes snap open and he bats your hand away.

"I'm n't your sweeth'rt I don't even know you." He looks at you through squinted eyes, clearly straining to stay awake.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna help you get home, if that's okay. Can you walk?" You fight every fibre in your body to not tack a 'sugarbear' on the end of that question, given how adorable he looks when he's this sleepy.

"I c'n run! Course I c'n walk." Perfect. Despite being about as structurally sound as a wet tortilla chip, he's still got his confidence, however misguided it may be.

"OK. Walk with me?" You pull his arm around your shoulders, trying to help lever him up out of the car. He trips every few steps and will definitely scowl at the horrid scuffed state of his favourite work shoes in the morning, but at least he's not faceplanting. Yet.

You manage to maneuvre him into the elevator, basically holding his body up against the wall of the small space. Once you arrive at the sixth floor, he has a few near-trips with the neighbours welcome mats getting caught beneath his shoes, but you finally arrive at your door.

"Stay here, okay, just one moment, baby just stay right there while I get our keys." You prop him up to the left side of your door, dropping your workbag on the table to the right so you can rummage for your keys when you hear a loud THUD.

The poor thing is in a ball on the floor, having slid down the wall and become just a pile of limbs and coat tails somewhere along the way.

"Shit." You find your keys, unlocking the door and throwing your bag onto the couch down the entryway before you even attempt to pick up your pile of boyfriend.

"Aaron, stay with me, please wake up I just need you to go inside, you can't sleep out here." You plead with him, hoping that just one lobe of his brain is functioning enough to hear you.

"Hrmmph." He replies in a sort of grunt. Wonderful, your pile of boyfriend has attitude. Luckily, you know just who could get him to stand at attention right now.

You clear your throat, aiming to make it sound older and croakier than your own. "SSA Hotchner, Attention!" You make one last-ditch appeal to the scared little boy inside of him who lived from army bootcamp to army bootcamp.

To your surprise, he starts rolling around trying to ascertain which was is up, and with your hands under his arms, he is able to stand back up. You walk him inside without a word, pushing him straight through to your bedroom before he can collapse and reoccupy his liquid form on the floor once more.

You grab his pyjamas, neatly folded atop his pillow as always, bringing them over with some socks for him to wear to bed.

He's managed to remain sitting up at the foot of the bed where you left him, and you decide now you definitely need to be his partner, not his tenth grade drill sergeant to achieve this.

"Aaron, sweetheart, put your arms up for me."

"No, I'm taken. I d'nt want any funny business w'you." He puts on an excellent pout, and you're proud of his resistance to someone's advances deep within your chest, but right now you really just need him to get over it until you can tuck him neatly into bed.

"Aaron, I know you're taken because it's me, Y/N. See?" You give a dramatic twirl, letting him look up at you through his lashes, but his eyes look emptier than usual. The lights are on, but almost nobody is home, nobody helpful anyway.

"Prove it." He challenges you.

"Well, would anybody but Y/N know that you still have your caterpillar stuffie from when you were three? Mister Tickles?" You hope he's in a conscious enough state to recall that Mister Tickles is in your shared wardrobe, nestled in between Aaron's winter coats.

"Okay, weirdo. No need t'get pers'nal" You laugh at Aaron trying to keep his cool although you clearly know even the things about him he hides from himself.

He reluctantly raises his arms, letting you remove his undershirt, replacing it with your favourite college tee that just fits him so much nicer than it fits you, and he lays down and lifts his hips, letting you remove his belt and slacks. He wolf whistles when you first start undoing his belt but you know you can't take advantage of him when he can't even recognise who you are without guidance. You slide on his Air-bud puppy pyjama pants Jack got him for his birthday, knowing he loved the movie as a boy. You then manage to slip socks on his feet and open up the blankets, pushing him into the open bed and tucking him in tightly. You leave to putter about the bedroom, doing your own nighttime routine before you come back to Aaron, placing blobs of his favourite moisturiser on his face, rubbing it in ever so gently, although he's practically snoring. You know how much he hates feeling like 'the life drains from his face' after a night out and how he will inevitably wake up with cold feet and dry eyes.

You admire his sleeping form, his long lashes shifting as his eyes peacefully drift in his sleep. You plant a kiss on his forehead before heading out to the kitchen to get him painkillers and a glass of water, knowing he'll need them. You also leave the toilet light on, letting it glow under the door so when he does inevitably get up for one last heave into the bowl, he'll be able to find his way in the dark.

You get into bed, worrying about what is to come from the team tomorrow, now knowing the two of you are together, and how you'll have to explain yourselves to Strauss and inevitably an internal review board or three. But as you look once more at Aaron's peaceful face, you notice that even after three hours of karaoke and dancing his heart out, he looks more rested and relaxed than he has in the years you'd known him. His frown lines making way for smile lines, and all of his walls he built around himself making room for one more. You know the two of you will be able to face whatever may be thrown your way.

As you look at the toilet light cascading under the door, illuminating the fibres of your plush carpeted room, you realise Aaron is your guiding light as well. That you wouldn't know home without him.

#i'm sorry guys i might be reposting a lot of old stuff like this that you've seen before but im just making it more accessible #please bear with me #rome’s wonderful moots! <3 #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #hotch x gn!reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #drunk!hotch #the amazing morgan!

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crispywizardtale · 5 months

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norrisgrl · 5 months

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HUH, EXCUSE ME??? i need to see drunk oscar.

#oscar piastri #op81 #formula 1 #pls id love to know how he acts when hes drunk #im sure it would be so funny😭#but honestly i cant really imagine him drunk #<- anyone has thoughts??#look at his hair too🥺#he looks so tiny here #the neck😵‍💫😵‍💫#the pale skin #can i kiss it sir pls??#the moles looking at me once again...#im gonna leave it here 🤭#dennis hauger #robert shwartzman #🌸 angie talks

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sassylegshayne · 1 year

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marry me, idiot. - chapter six

this chapter is so sweet and domestic I hope you guys enjoy, I love it sm!! lmk what you think mwah xx 🫶💓 3.5k words!!

series masterlist

You and Spencer groaned simultaneously as the two of you left the Smosh office after another very long, wedding themed day. You'd started off the morning by shooting for the Reddit series, reacting to a load of wedding themed stories that Shayne read. It ran for longer than planned, as shoots with the three of your tend to; it was nearly two hours later that the three of you moved to the next set.

Kiana loved your idea for the TNTL wedding party gauntlet and gave it the go ahead. She appeared for both sides, Spencer and you unwilling to cave and let the other claim your shared best friend. Shayne did the same, sitting through the first round with Spencer's team, but as the last person was set to appear, he went out as CFM.

Your team ended up losing early on when Spencer's team pretended to be male strippers, each in a different costume, hired for your bridal party.

Lisa screamed and shook her head from her stool beside you as lan stood before her, rubbing his chest hair after he unbuttoned his floral button up. You tried your best to hold it in as the sole survivor of your team but caved when Spencer approached you in the rodent stume, twirling the tail around.

"That feels like it's gonna be a HR nightmare, Lisa, I'm so sorry." You laughed, wiping your mouth.

The final stretch was here, once you two had picked your bridal parties, shooting began, again. You two had decided it best to keep it within the realms of Smosh, excluding your family and other friends. It didn't really matter, you were only getting fake married.

There'd be a real wedding in the future. What? What the fuck? Would there be? You and Spencer had spent the last nine months in a secretive, blissful fog together. You'd spent the same amount of time together, just some small things changed.

You had been so wrapped up in the planning of the fake wedding recently, Kiana helping as best as she could with her own busy schedule. It felt like every moment you weren't shooting, editing, or sleeping, you were ordering a cake, ordering decorations, booking the chapel.

The stress around every other part of your relationship had blinded you, not thinking for a moment about what you two would actually become after you wed.

Spencer is about two shirts away from moving his entire closet in with yours; you were just around the corner from asking him to move in, as soon as the timing was right.

You learned just how deeply of a boob-man Spencer is, he didnt keep his hands off of you behind closed doors, and his hands liked to wander. You never complained, you missed out on years worth of love for each other, you're allowed to make up for lost time.

Somehow you two had actually managed to grow closer, if it's even possible. You'd already been attached at the hip, but Spencer began spending almost every night with you, much to Criag's dismay.

Their relationship continued on the steady path it seemed to always stay on. They avoided each other, then followed each other, then spent time together, and the cycle would begin again.

Your cat and your boyfriend were slowly beginning to learn to co-exist.

You and Spencer had established that you're a couple, you're dating, you're actually engaged and will be getting married, but as a joke. But neither of you had thought about what would come after that?

Not once in the last nine months had the thought crossed either of your minds until now. As you walked out of the office door, hands locked together, it dawns on you.

Your wedding was just over a month and a half away and you had no clue where your relationship would stand after you got married. What a fucked up situation you were in.

Spencer tugged on your hand softly, pulling you to a halt just before you reach his car. He grins as he spins you slowly, tugging you into his embrace as soon as you face him.

You couldn't help but grin as you resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.

"You gota lot on your mind?" Spencer spoke softly, his hands trailing gently up and down your back as you nod.

"I'm kinda stressin, dude." You replied, laughing softly. The squeaking of hinges in the distance sends you jumping back a bit, hand placed to your chest.

Spencer couldn't hold in his laughter as the loud parking garage door constantly startled you. You shoved his shoulder gently, blushing as you passed him, waiting impatiently at the car door.

"Stop pouting, your face is gonna get stuck like that." You rolled your eyes, flipping him the finger as the doors finally unlocked.

You talked about your dinner plans, settling on ordering in, the both of you were far too tired to cook.

When you arrived home, you were quick to scoop your meowing cat into your arms. You pecked Spencer quickly, carrying your purring kitty down the hall as you entered into your bedroom.

Craig was quick to dismiss you, springing from your arms and onto your mattress, settling himself on Spencer's pillow.

You praised your cat quietly, rubbing his head gently before you began to gather a few things.

Kimmy and Courtney had gifted you a massive basket full of different self-care itemsa few weeks ago.

Kimmy had presented it to you, claiming that you'd need these more the closer the wedding got. You gratefully accepted the gift, so overwhelmed that anyone was treating this as if it were real, and amazed with how sweet your friends are.

You had dismissed her warning before, but as you found yourself so close, so much planning still left to do or finalize, a night to yourself sounded amazing.

The thought was entertained for days, the idea of coming home and not having to concern yourself with the wedding for a few hours became more appealing each day.

Spencer had laughed softly when you brought it up to him the night before as you two laid in bed. You rested your head on his chest, fingers balled around the fabric of his shirt as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

"Spencer?" You whispered, afraid you'd procrastinated too much and that he'd fallen asleep already.

"Y/N?" He finally spoke back after a moment. Hus voice was raspy with sleep as he adamantly denied being woken up, trying to keep from upsetting you. You would profusely apologize if he admitted it.

You laid out your plan, detailing what you wanted to do for the night with every last detail, down to the face mask you were going to use. Your cheeks grew warm, the pink invisible to Spencer in your dark room as he chuckled, nodding along.

He pulled the covers tighter, shifting after he kissed the top of your head. "Okay, baby:" Spencer spoke, resting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, feeling your shoulders relax as you sighed.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with more pecks and kisses as you giggle, squirming in his grip. Spencer slowed his assault, trailing his lips to meet yours, melting into a fevw sweet, chaste kisses.

He knew in his gut that something was wrong, you hadn't been this stressed before. You had a lot on your plate and Spencer was more than ready to help whenever you were ready to ask.

You found yourself to be much more excited than you expected as you dug through the goodies. You pulled out a few lotions, setting aside your favorite scent alongside the matching body wash.

You quickly made your way into your bathroom, grinning at Spencer as you passed by him in the living room.

"Should order now or later?" He called out, leaning over the backside of the couch to glance into the open bathroom doorway. Spencer couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him as he caught a glimpse of you removing your shirt.

No matter how many times Spencer sees you undressed, he's always this excited. You two had accidentally seen each other naked a fewW times before you got together, and many times on purpose since, but it was different now. Every kiss gave him butterflies, and everytime he sees you naked, he practically turns into a thirteen year old.

He realized quickly what is was that had shifted. You were his now, you gave him the freedom to roam, learning every little detail about your body, and Spencer realized that he didn't want anybody touching you like he did.

It wasn't so much of a protectiveness, but moreso because he wanted to be the one to touch you for the rest of your life and his. He'd absolutely fallen for you all over again, and it felt like it was becoming a daily occurrence.

The most intimate moments with you were so much better than he'd ever imagined. It felt like you two were made for each other in every sense of the word. He told you that he loved you constantly, but showing you was was better, and moaning it in your ear was the best.

Having you in his life felt like a gift, a privilege he would cherish forever, grateful that the stars aligned or whatever it may be that brought you to him. Spencer was way beyond head over heels.

You call out to him, but it falls on deaf ears as you shimmy out of your bottoms, your back to the living room as your boyfriend remains quiet.

"What? I can't hear you?" Spencer finally calls out to you. He had gotten lost in his thoughts, your voice mumbled as he looked back toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you unclasp your bra, a grin across his cheeks as it hits the tile floor, looking over your shoulder again. Your eyes meet your boyfriend's, the blue now your favorite color, as a blush spreads across your cheeks, finally catching him staring at you.

Spencer sits on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing as he held his phone tightly, his cheeks now tinged pink. "Come here, I didn't catch that." He felt like a kid on Christmas morning as he heard your feet patter across the floor.

You huffed, one hand pressed to your chest as your previously discarded shirt barely covered your chest, your other hand posed on your hip as you gave Spencer a playful glare.

"Happy?" Spencer laughed, resting his hands on your hips as you slipped the shirt back over your head, tugging you into his lap. The two of you held each other, enjoying the stillness and silence until a figure jumps behind Spencer, causing you to jump as well.

A chuckle rumbled through Spencer's chest as a meow echoed from your cat, earning a glare from you as he perched around your boyfriend's neck. The two of them shared a habit of startling you.

"Order later, let me take a shower real quic-" Spencer shook his head, silencing you as your brow furrowed.

"No need to rush, take your time. I'll order whenever you want." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, but you weren't ready to part. You trailed after him, pecking his lips quickly, hand tangling gently in his hair as the other rested on his chest.

Spencer groaned softly as your teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your bare bottom. After a few moments you feel Spencer's hands wandering under your shirt, excitement building inside of you rapidly.

Your mood dissolves quickly as your hip stings lightly, Spencer snapping the waistband against you as he pulls back slowly, a smug look on his face. You glare at him playfully, lightly punching his shoulder before your press your forehead to his, smiling.

"Go, get in the shower." He squeezes your thighs gently as you pout, unwilling to remove yourself from his lap. "Go relax, we've got the rest of our lives to spend together."

You felt a strange pressure settling in your chest at his words, your thoughts once more weighing heavy on your mind and heart.

Spencer was quick to notice the small movements you make, the twitching of your fingertips as your smile falters ever so slightly. No one could notice these tiny shifts like Spencer could.

You sigh softly, pressing a final peck to his lips before you rise from his lap. You lean over him, smiling as you scratch under Craig's chin before slipping back into the bathroom.

Spencer finally released a breath he didn't realized he'd be holding as the pipes squeak, indicating that you'd started your shower. Something was off, but he knew way better than to pry. You would come to him as soon as you were ready.

It isn't how you used to handle your problems before you started dating, but now that you

You were around each other so often, your conflict resolutions had shifted. You liked to take your time thinking over exactly how you wanted to Word everything, every answer to any question he may have.

So he'd sit on the couch, and he'd let you relax. Tonight probably wasn't the night, judging by your reaction.

You tried your best to melt away your stress with the hot water, hoping your anxieties could rinse down the drain as you shampoo your hai. You follow your own, and Spencer's, demands and take your sweet time, your phone softly playing music from the bathroom counter.

You pull on a shirt of Spencer's that you've You go through your skin care routine for the first time in a while, a thin layer of dust atop your lotion bottle.

You set it aside, mentally chastising yourself over your lack of regularity. You pull yourself on to the bathroom counter, crossing your legs as you stared at your freshly washed face in the mirror.

You sat in the small room for a while, taking your time applying a facemask as you thought over just how to approach this weird relationship.

Spencer wandered down the hall after placing the order for your pizzas, furrowing his brow with a small chuckle as he glances into the bathroom, the door still open.

You grin at him in the mirror as best as you can, the mask drying quickly and pulling your skin tightly. You spun around, motioning Spencer to join you. He stood between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. "Do I get pre-wedding selfcare, too?"

"Of course you do, sweetheart. It's very important."' You quipped as you grabbeda headband, allowing him to push his hair out of his face.

"Ya know what?" You spoke quietly as you began applying the mask to him. He hissed as the cold, thick, cucumber scented mask swiped across his cheek, unhappy with the feeling. "I'm glad you're growing out your hair again. liked the buzz cut, but the curls suit you. You're very babygirl."

Spencer was thankful for the mask as it hid his brightly colored cheeks. Once you had read one comment where someone called Spencer that a few years back, it sparked something. had been quite a while since the last time you'd brought it up, he almost missed it.

"I am not babygirl." He protests, his nails dragging softly against your skin as he lets his hands wander your exposed thighs. You smile as much as your mask would allow, giggling when Spencer gives you a confused look, wincing as the mask cracks.

His fingertips trail under the hem of your shorts as you squirm a bit, his light touch tickling your skin. Spencer attempts to grin at you as he tugs you closer, pressed up against you as you lazily Wrap your legs around his waist.

You grab a makeup wipe and clean around your boyfriend's eyes and lips before nodding curtly. "All done, now you gotta sit around and wait." You pressed a peck to his lips, quickly dissolving into a fit of giggles as Spenc refused to let you pull away. He kept peppering your lips with soft pecks in between your laughter.

"Spence." You huffed, whining softly as he finally halting his actions, still laughing as he tried his best to stifle it.

"I have something kinda serious I wanna talk about, you dick." Spencer took a deep breath, trying to take you as seriously as he could with the cracked green mask coating your face. He finally gets his giggles under control, nodding to you, encouraging you to begin.

"Okay, so we're dating, and kinda engaged, but after the wedding, where we agreed to actually get married, are we still dating or are we married?" You speak quickly, sighing as you finish, eyes filled with worry as Spencer's heart tugs at the thought. That's why you'd been so weird, hed been stressing you out without even knowing it.

Spencer quickly raises his hands to cup your cheeks but stops short as you lean away, giggling as his hands nearly smudge your mask away. He rolls his eyes, placing a quick peck to your lips, wincing as the mask pulled his face taught.

You alarm begins to ring as your boyfriend groans, it felt like everything in your relationship was destined to be interrupted as the door bell rang quickly after. Spencer groaned, catching a glimpse of his own face in the mirror, finally taking in his current state.

"You have to answer the door, I look like Shrek, Y/N." Spencer spoke, taking a step back from you, hoping you'd slip from the counter.

You huff, keeping yourself seated as you hiss back at him jokingly. "I look like Fiona, I'm not going to get it." You argued as the bell rang again, pointing your finger towards the front door.

Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes as he trudged down the hall. "At least Fiona's hot, no one wanted to fuck the ogre." He mumbled under his breath as he approached the door, shooing off Craig as he waited to pounce on whoever may be standing outside of the apartment.

You quickly grab a washcloth, rinsing the mask from your face, quickly applying your lotion after. You take a deep breath, smiling at your reflection as you admire the glow on your skin.

Spencer returned to you after a few minutes, his face deadpan as he stood in the doorway. "Dude laughed, the guy saw my self care and laughed in my face. That sucked."

You bit back a laugh as you grab the washrag once more, slowly removing the green from your boyfriend face. Spencer was quick to steal your lotion,

You mirror him, grinning before you usher him out of the small space, the smell of greasy pizza hitting your nose. You quickly dart around Spencer, giggling as you grab the pizza box from the counter.

You settle into the couch, smiling at Spencer's before sitting beside you.

The two of you wordlessly dig in, Spencer rolling his eyes as you refuse his offer of a plate again.

think that we have to decide together what we become after the wedding. I mean, I don't care what title we put on our relationship because I'm yours no matter what." Spencer spoke softly, his eyes on yours as he smiled reassuringly.

You nodded your head, chewing your lip as you mulled over the idea. You leaned forward, swiping a bit of sauce off of your boyfriend's cheek. "You're right, and agree. I mean. it may be a bit soon to get married for a normal relationship, but.."

Spencer laughed as you gestured between the two of you. You two had built a wonderful relationship full of love despite taking the strangest route to get here.

"Move in with me." You said before taking another bite, offering him nothing else as you smiled sweetly.

"Alright." Spence chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He never thought a relationship could be so easy; the two of you just decided to get married, for real, and move in together within a few minutes.

It warmed Spencer's heart to think about how quickly his life had changed, and how much more it would in the next few months.

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