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touyasdoll · 8 months

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Vulnerability

pairing: ex!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mildly angsty bc y'all broke up before, rough sex kinda, sex with feelings, y’all broke up and he’s back (surprise, surprise), unprotected sex, creampie, possessive gojo

notes: once Satoru is in love, he is in wholeheartedly. you are never getting rid of him <3

“Say it again, baby,” Satoru drawls, drunk in the pleasure that you’re providing as you glide up and down on his impressive length.

“I love you,” you whisper, just like old times as your hands rest on either side of his neck, keeping his ice blue gaze fixed on your face.

A lazy smile spreads across his handsome face as he guides your hips, his long fingers tightening around your flesh.

“I missed that. Missed you,” he whispers back, words that you’d never thought you’d hear. Not from this man.

It’s been months since he walked out that door. Since you told him to get the fuck out of your life and never come back. He was petrified of commitment and that wasn’t a secret to anyone who knew of your relationship well enough.

“I love you,” you say again, earning you a groan from a man beneath you.

“I love you too, gorgeous,” he replies, nearly stopping your steady rhythm, but the feel of his glorious cock keeps you going.

“Say it again,” you echo his words, desperate to hear those words after months of his denying you of the pleasure.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, baby,” he breathes out. “I fucking mean it too,” he growls quietly.

His hands nearly bruise your hips, fingertips pressing into your skin when he starts holding you as tight as he wish he would have before. When he was too proud and too scared to just utter the words that roll off his tongue so easily now.

“I need you. I fucked up and I know it,” he pants, easily flipping the two of you over so that he lumbers over you.

He props himself up on one hand and catches your jaw in the other, using a firm but gentle grip to keep your half lidded eyes fixed on him as he keeps driving into you.

“You’re never gonna get rid of me, baby. I can’t imagine a life without you and I won’t. I won’t fucking do it,” he snarls, the sound a delicious noise reverberating between your two sweat slicked bodies.

“Satoru,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I mean it. Your pussy feels fucking amazing choking my cock, but that isn’t why I’m saying this,” he promises, never missing a beat as his impressive length pummels your poor, abused pussy.

“Satoru!” You cry, hand wrapping around his wrist, your hand so small in comparison to his.

“That’s it. Keep crying for me. Keep saying my fucking name. You will only ever say my name when you feel this good. Do you understand me?”

You nod, staring up at him, fighting the need to screw your eyes shut and the pressure in the depths of your core threatens to snap and ignite your entire body on fire.

“Good,” he grits out, teeth clenched as he doubles down, railing his rock hard cock into you, rushing you towards your finish.

All you can do is hold the fuck on as he sends you flying, soaring up into the heavens as you howl his name. Only his name. The only one you ever wanted to leave your lips as you enter complete and total, all encompassing bliss.

“Fuck,” he sighs, a shiver rocking his body as every muscle in his imposing form tenses and he breaks with you.

He grunts, his body flexing right as something in him snaps and he continues bullying his dick into your pulsing walls. They hug him so tight he feels like he might black out.

For a moment, he swears he does. His hips cast forward on their own, forcing him impossibly deeper as his tip knocks against the deepest part of you, spilling his seed inside to claim you once and forever as his and his alone.

Both of you are lost in a haze, but nothing has ever been more clear to the man panting in your ear. He needs you. He cannot live without you and he’s only sorry that it took him so long to admit it.

That’s why he showed up at your door tonight. Begging for you to just let him in and hear him out. That’s how you ended up right here, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs while your nerves scream and sing in response to every little touch that he offers your overstimulated form.

“I love you,” he reaffirms, the words a soft whisper against your collarbone as he trails his lips across them.

“I love you too,” you whisper, still in disbelief that you’re able to add the little ‘too’ on the end of that sentence.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t say it before, but I’ve always felt it. I’ve always needed you,” he swears, collapsing beside you to bundle you into his arms.

His gentle lips pepper kisses across your scalp, your forehead, and your temple, slowly trialing across your face.

“I missed you. I mean that too, baby,” he says with more conviction than you’ve ever heard leave his lips, his voice shaking with emotion. “I will never leave you doubting that again. I swear. I fucking swear it.”

You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard his voice with anything other than pure, radiating confidence imbued within it. Now, his voice quakes. His tone is full of tremors and uncertainty, something that is foreign to the one who has always known himself as the strongest. Weakness had no place in his words.

But with you, he is weak and he knows it. He has always known it and just never spoken the words aloud, but if it means keeping you. Having you, he will gladly break down those walls to keep you within them. He will build them back up to keep you here with him forever. Where you belong.

“I love you. I was scared and I can say that now. I was too petrified then. Afraid that I’d lose you somehow, but I went and did that anyway and I would do anything not to do that again,” he whispers, his nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’m yours, baby,” you whisper back. “I have always been yours for the taking. I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washes over him as he holds you tighter, his spindly fingers dragging across your spine.

“I won’t let you,” he vows, holding you close enough that you believe he’s trying to mold you directly into his body. Into his ribs.

Straight into his heart, which you have no doubts that you now know belongs solely to you.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog and they are all greatly appreciated <3

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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pedge-page · 4 months

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#6 Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: NOT Hungry

can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: fluff, brief puking, Joel being an overreactive sensitive bitch

- - - -

Ever since your fourth date with Joel, where you spent the evening at his apartment, and he made you his homemade empanadas while you two discussed your favorite books and movies, you were hooked. Not just to the man who would eventually be your husband and baby daddy, but to his immaculate cooking as well.

So now, years later with a ring on your finger and both of your and Joel’s belly a little fuller—okay, yours a LOT fuller—you find yourself gawking at him, propped up on the kitchen island in a high chair you took 4 minutes to climb atop, feet swaying in the air, elbows resting on the granite countertop, palms holding your chin with beady heart eyes as Joel finishes plating his hot homemade dish for you.

“Blow on it, babe. It’s hot,” he warns, not too keen on having you burn your tongue again due to your impatience. He holds a fork out as you drag the plate in front of you.

“Yes you are, handsome.”

He shakes his head, not caring that he’s blushing hard. It’s not difficult for him to admit that having you gush over his cooking for years makes him extremely proud, excited, and even more in love with you.

You can’t tell if the gurgling, rumbling summersaults in your middle is the baby kicking or your stomach growling, neither of which bother you in the slightest as you splinter the hot shell, pausing to waft the steam of shredded chicken, glazed onions and corn, a hint of his secret secret secret ingredient (its a touch of sugar—but you don’t want him to know you know), and then—

You stop, fork held in front of your mouth like the Choo Choo train hit the breaks before it could dock with the station. And suddenly something doesn’t feel very pleasant, and your senses are off, strangely, for something that should be glorious and pleasurable consuming you is now —extremely unpleasant, almost—

You drop the fork with a clatter to the plate and b-line straight to the bathroom, barely bending to your knees to the tiled floor as you hurl your stomach into the basin.

It only lasts for a few seconds, your stomach being relatively empty with no dinner having made its way down there. You wash your hands, and mouth, and then sadly waddle back into the kitchen.

“Um, Joel, I don’t think the baby likes them,” you say meekly, rubbing your hand over your belly who punches your ribcage with dignified agreement.

Joel looks at you, face plain, lips in a thin line with an unreadable expression. He calmly places the pan back on the stove, wiping his hand with the washcloth. The kitchen feels scarily quiet. Joel then puts both hands flat on the counter, holding himself up, gritting his teeth back and forth. He brings his eyes to you, with such a chilling seriousness that it sends you into shivers.

“And might I ask who’s baby you got growing’ in there then?”

EXCUSE ME?

“Joel what—what the fuck—“

“Cuz no baby o’MINE would EVER dislike my empenadas. So I’ll ask you again, who’s baby do y’got growing inside you?”

“Are you fucking serious. Because the baby doesn’t like your greasy food, I’m suddenly a cheater?”

“I’m just sayin—“

“Fuck off Joel,” you seethe, not sure if you should be trembling in rage or laughter. “The baby. Doesn’t. Like. It. Grow up. The doctor said this could happen.”

Yeah, he was there, he knows, but Jesus, it was more plausible to believe his baby wouldn’t like collard greens or strawberry ice cream, not … his fabulous abuelas homemade receipt of empanadas that his wife has adored ever since she first tried it!

Joel pulls his hands off the counter, wringing them in shame with pouty lips. “M’sorry. That was—that was wrong o’me to way that. I don’t—I know you wouldn’t…”

He struggles to suppress the little sniffle under all that macho, and suddenly you’re paddling over to him, soothingly gliding your hand over the expanse of his muscled back, kissing his massive shoulder.

“Awww, are you upset your baby doesn’t like them?”

“M’not upset,” he pouts unconvincingly. “Just—what if after you pop the kid, you still don’t like ‘em either? Then who am I gonna cook ‘em for?”

“Tommy?”

“Fuck that man-child. He can make his own shit.”

You giggle into his arm, nuzzling your face into his denim shirt. You inhale the smell of him, the mix of pine, wood and mint, a little bit of sweat, enough that its blocking the nauseating scent of the grease in the air and suddenly you feel a wave of calm wash over you, relaxed in his gentle embrace.

You smile, carding your fingers through his and bringing his flat hand to the base of your tummy.

“I promise: this baby is definitely yours. So calm now because Daddy’s scent is here to comfort her.”

Joel’s lips curl into a smile, welcoming the touch of warmth cradled by your rounded belly. “Still think it’s a girl?”

You cup his face, bringing him to you as you plant a loving kiss on the scruffy patch on his peppered cheek.

“I know it.”

- - - -

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

“I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick—

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 1

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morallyinept · 3 months

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Pop Goes The Javi - A Javier Peña One Shot for PMAMC 2024

Written for @wannab-urs Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2024 - proud to be part of this collection of amazing writers. Check them out for all the Pedro Boys being pegged! 🍑 Also, check out last year's PMAMC 2023 too!

Summary: It’s Javi's birthday and you have the perfect gift for him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 4.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Pegging/rimming/anal fingering/anal penetration, M receiving/fingering F receiving/all the glorious butt stuff with Javi's pert lil' butt 🍑 Javi being a drooling mess.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me and I share with you. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: There's a fair amount of Javi Spanish in this, so I've provided translations at the end of the story. Special thanks to my sweet hermosa @rhoorl for helping me out with this. 🖤

Thanks again for letting me be apart of this @wannab-urs 🥰 Please be sure to check out, and re-blog, all the other amazing stories by the other fantastic writers who have also taken part this year! 🍑

PMAMC Banner/poster created by @wannab-urs 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As the sun dips below the Bogotá skyline, casting a warm, orange glow across the city, the heat coats your skin like a greased balm.

You find yourself nestled into a cosy booth with Javi in a restaurant; the taste of sweet agave and ash lingers on his lips, and his nimble, thick fingers cause a mutiny of tingles to travel across your epidermis as he brushes the tips of them over your thigh.

The flap of his open collar, under his worn in leather jacket, reveals golden bone protrusions that you long to taste again, and it takes you a few moments to realise that you haven't heard a single word he’s said most of the evening as you’ve been fixated on it, until his fingers sweep up to your inner thigh under the table.

“This fucking dress leaves little to the imagination.” He murmurs, planting a kiss on your temple.

“And I assume yours is running amok right now?” You say, leaning further into him.

“Si, cariño.”

“Good. Mission accomplished.” You smile into his mouth.

He licks his tongue into yours as you tug at the soft, creaky lapel on his jacket.

“I think we should go, vamos a casa,” Javi husks into your face with a prudent smirk; a plush bottom lip pouting suggestively under that moustache.

“No, you’ve not had any dessert yet,” you smile, stopping his hand from going any further.

“I plan on having it back at yours,” he says, eyes dropping to your cleavage and then back up to your face.

“I think you’ll like this one better,” you grin as a dessert with a single candle arrives at your table.

The restaurant staff, having been forewarned it’s Javi's birthday, join in singing a lively rendition of Feliz Cumpleaños, much to his chagrin.

You can’t help but giggle at his discomfort, eyeing you with a puckered frown and pink pout, but equally trying not to laugh at your audacity when you clap and sing along enthusiastically with them.

“For the record, I hate birthdays.” Javi mutters, as you pick up the spoon and feed the dulce de leche flan to him. His teeth clash against the metal as he eats it begrudgingly whilst you grin and sparkle at him.

“I think you’ll enjoy this one. You won’t forget it in a hurry.” You muse.

“Mhm.” He retorts with knitted eyebrows.

“I still haven’t given you your present yet.”

“You got me a present? ¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” Javi murmurs under his breath. Then he softens. “If it’s not you in my lap in this dress, then I don’t want it.”

You lean forward, fingers raking through the sweaty curled hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not wearing any underwear…” You tease.

The growl that escapes his lips is heard by the table opposite as they turn quizzically as he feigns clearing his throat.

“We’re going. Right fucking now.” He says, standing. Your eyes are drawn to the obvious bulge straining in his tight jeans at eye level.

A short cab ride to your apartment is spent glued to his lips as your curl yourself around him as close as you physically can. His hand rests dangerously close to the centre of your thighs; the slip of liquid silk from your dress riding up further as his fingers edge closer to the wet heat there.

You soon feel his wandering digits probing brazenly at your slit, sliding the length of them up and down through your drenched lips, making you moan into his hungry mouth on the backseat.

The backs of your thighs stick to the leather as Javi collects the slick pooling at your hole and rubs it onto your clit where he circles languidly with a delicious pressure that makes your skin tighten and crack.

He works two fingers in with slow, intense strokes as he clutches you close to him with his other arm around you, lips buried in the skin at your throat as he sucks it gently into his mouth.

Small, little whines escape you as he builds you up, and it’s not long before you glance at the driver peering at you both through the mirror surreptitiously.

“Ojos en el camino, señor.” Javi instructs with a grizzled bite to his tone as the driver looks away.

He withdraws his fingers smirking as you giggle. He generously tips the driver outside your apartment before pulling you in through the door, latched onto fuzzy lips that want to devour you whole.

He has you pinned up against the door with his hand swimming back under your dress, but you clamp down on his wrist stopping him.

“No. It’s your birthday and I have something I want to give you.” You whisper, stamping a sizzling kiss on his cheek.

“I don’t need anything, but this…” Javi says, stroking lightly against your pussy lips again.

“Please. Just indulge me. No te arrepentirás lo prometo.” You groan, pushing his hand away.

Sighing into your shoulder, Javi allows you to lead him to the bedroom. Kissing feverishly, you unbuckle his jeans; those tight, dark jeans that keep him all snug and shapely as you work your hands over that tight, little ass of his.

You pull away from the kiss, admiring your hands squeezing and lavishing his cheeks slipped down in the back of his jeans. You groan as you knead and squeeze the pliant, bouncy meat of it.

“Is this what you want to do? Feel up my ass?" Javi smirks, the left side of his lip crooking up first.

You shake your head, grinning at him. “No. I want to fuck it.”

Javi baulks. “What?”

"You heard me." You flutter.

He sinks onto the end of the bed, watching as you scurry over to the closet.

“I got you this.” You pull a box out and place it on his lap.

“What is it?” He asks, regarding it as though a bomb might go off in his face at any second.

“It’s your birthday present. Open it.” You say, watching carefully.

He opens it, pulling at the wrapping paper curiously and then sighs when it’s revealed to him.

“Jesus.” He hides the panic in his voice extremely well, but you can see it spreading all over his face.

“Javi, don’t be upset.” You say tentatively.

“I’m not upset, I just…” He looks up at you with those big browns, deep and entrancing, and full of something else; something you’ve never seen before as it picks at you. You worry you've made a mistake.

“We've talked about it. You said you wanted to try it one day."

"I did." He admits in a low tone.

"Do you want to try it tonight?” You probe gently.

“Querida.”

“You know you want to...” You smile enticingly at him.

He glances at you again, that same look and you realise what it is - vulnerability.

“Javi, do you trust me?”

He frowns instantly. “Of course I do, sabes que lo hago.”

“Good. We’ll go as slow as you want.” You confirm, nodding gently.

He stares into the box for a few moments and you can see him gulp. He puts the box on the bed, lights up a cigarette and takes a deep drag.

“Don’t I have to prepare, or something?” Javi asks, his shoulders hunching up through the plume of smoke. “I sound like a fucking idiot. Jesus.”

“I've got lube.” You say, nodding to the box.

He peers in. “Mierda.”

You come and sit beside him as he blows the smoke out away from your face. He slings his arm over your shoulder and you kiss his hand as your fingers entwine.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Javi. But I think you want to...” You sway. "I'd really like to fuck you on your birthday," you add, whispering.

Javi regards you carefully, those inquisitive eyes latching onto yours and you can see him mulling it over.

He takes another drag on the cigarette, the end burning a bright red in the darkening room.

"You want to fuck me, cariño, hmm?" He says and you can see that lip crooking up again.

"Mmhm." You nod, smirking.

He blows out more smoke. “Alright. Let me shower first, okay? I fucking stink.”

You smile and nod. “Okay.”

When he comes out, a little while later, the room is cast in a soft light from the bedside lamp.

You have the dildo, lube and strap laid out on the bed. You’re sitting there waiting for him, trying not to imagine him derailing this by his own insecurities, when he emerges with a towel loosely wrapped around his svelte waist and dark hair a damp mess.

He’s never looked so fucking good, golden skin shiny with water droplets that sparkle in the light. You can't help but stare and lick your lips.

“Ven aquí,” you hold out your hand and pull him towards you with an entrancing smile. “If I do something you don’t like, just tell me to st-”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Javi growls as he takes your face in his big hands and plants his lips on yours.

He nips on your bottom lip as his hand slides up under your dress to find you soaking for him again. A few brushes against your clit has your thighs spasming, but again you stop him, stepping back and lifting the dress over your head.

You pull the faded towel off of him and turn him so he’s sitting on the bed.

"How do you want me?" Javi asks.

"Just like this," you say.

You kiss all over his tan skin, down his chest and towards the prominent swell of his cock resting against his belly; a small thicket of dark, curled hairs rests at the base, damp from the shower.

He’s already leaking glossy pearls in anticipation as they string onto his skin. You kiss all around his groin, deliberately avoiding his cock as you lay him back.

Parting him by the knees, you smile and stroke the insides of his thighs.

"I want to kiss you."

He nods, pupils already blown and lips parted as he anticipates your every move.

Balls swollen like ripe plums hang heavy over the untouched skin of his taint where you run your tongue first.

The soft snuffles from his nose indicate that he likes it, and you lick under his sack, sucking one of them into your mouth gently as he hisses in response.

Trailing your mouth and planting kisses, you push his legs wider and he moans out as you find his dark, little hole and begin to wiggle the tip of your tongue over it.

Catching him by surprise, apparent from the shock in his voice, Javi's tone shifts to a higher pitch as you lick around the pink pucker of his ass.

“Fuck,” is all he can but utter on a choked whisper as you tongue him there.

Teasing, licking and smooching around the most intimate part of him, a part that he’s never revealed so brazenly to anyone else before; you can tell by the way he’s all coiled up, fists clenched and back taut and rigid. Trying to relax into it, but feeling out of sorts at the same time as these new sensations flood over him.

He'd said he'd wanted to try it, was curious about the appeal, when you'd both opened up to each other about your fantasies.

You'd asked if he would try with you and he'd said yes, as he kissed you moaning into your mouth, and harder than he'd ever been at the idea.

Equally, you'd thought about nothing else since, planning on making it perfect for him.

Well, there was no perfect time than his birthday and it solved the conundrum of what to get him as a gift.

You flick your tongue over his hole, back and forth, back and forth, as he shudders. You can feel a little contraction as you push in the tip, a slight hesitation, as he grunts out.

But Javi grabs his cock and begins stroking it while gritting his teeth. His breathy groans turn into heated growls as you continue to lick and explore his ass with your tongue, readying him up for what’s to come.

You glance up at him, head craned back in the pillow and slack mouth open, and you know you won’t get that image out of your head for a while; it’s burned into it like a firebrand on raw cattle hide.

He looks fucking exquisite, paused in his own pleasure. His eyes catch yours when you stop, taking this moment to indulge.

“You're feeling pretty good about yourself right now, aren't you?” He questions looking down at you looking at him, as you kiss around his little, pink rim again.

“Maybe.” You smirk. “But you are too, admit it. You like it.”

"I do." He nods with a content snuffle.

You reach for the lube, squeezing a little out and running the smooth silk of it over his hole. He hisses, lips curling back over his teeth, with the coolness of it and you rub your finger over his hole; around in teasing, slow circles, gently increasing the pressing until the tip of your finger slips in.

“Mmm,” he grunts. But you can feel him resisting as it pops out again.

“Relax for me, Javi.” You pat his stomach reassuringly.

You push again when he breathes out and your finger slips in, past the tip and proximal phalanx. You pull back and watch his face; eyes still closed and biting down on his full bottom lip.

His large hands twist at the sheets, gripping so tight they could tear. You pump gently, pushing further in each time and plant kisses on his thigh that twitches.

“You’re doing so good,” you encourage, your mouth running up his thigh as you push your finger deeper with each pump, twisting and curling it until his whines become a strained gasp when you find that delicious, untouched spot.

“Fuh…” Javi husks in a strangled moan.

“That’s the spot huh?” You smile.

“Oh, fuck yes.” He pants as you stroke against it with a little more pressure. "Shit, that's..." He trails off, distracted by how damn good it feels.

His legs jerk as you rub against his spot and his cock literally pulses in response.

"Do that again."

"Are you begging me for more already, Agent Peña?" You grin as you stroke against him some more.

He looks drunk, eyes glazed over as he nods lazily, trying not to grin himself.

“Shall we try the strap?” You entice gently pulling your finger out.

He sits up on his elbows. “If we’re doing this… I-” The look on his face is a mixture of hesitation and fear despite the wild dilating of his eyes turning them into tar pools.

“Why don't you ride me?” You encourage with a nod. “You can control the depth.”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi blushes almost immediately, a heated flush creeping to the tips of his ears.

“If you don’t like it we can stop, okay?” You confirm, reaching for the dildo and strap. “But I think you’re really going to like it,” you smile.

“It’s small.” Javi says, sitting up fully as you belt it on, and you're not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.

“Well, your ass is small.” You confirm taking a handful of his pert, little butt. “If you like it we can work up to a bigger one.”

You squeeze lube all over the dildo and look up at him as you lay back on the bed, head propped up on the pillows.

"Come here and kiss me, Javi."

He straddles you, leaning down to plant his lips on yours, and you can tell he’s nervous. You angle the silicone cock between you, as it brushes against the crack of his ass.

The veins in his neck swell, his teeth grinding as he feels it nestle between his cheeks, sticky and wet against his hole.

You hold onto his hips, stroking over the creases in his inner thighs. He looks down at you, eyes deep and trusting, lips red and swollen like the end of his dick.

Big browns melting into you like chocolate.

“Estas listo?” You ask.

“No,” he sighs with a slight crook of his lip and then chuckles.

"Go slowly," you say.

He rocks back and forth gently, your hand clasps softly around his stiff cock, stroking as it glides in and out of your hand effortlessly with the remaining lube around your fingers.

You can feel him tentatively getting comfortable, the head of the dildo rubbing at his wet hole as he braves himself each time to push back that bit further onto it.

He breathes out, relaxing, or trying to relax as best as he can.

Javi stops, freezing, just as it pushes through the rim and gasps. “Fuck, fuck…”

“Slowly,” you ease again, your hand squeezing his thigh, rubbing gently.

You’re tempted to buck up a little, help him through the initial pinching through the sphincters - you know he’ll be clenching.

But you also know he needs the control right now. He needs you to let him do it himself.

“I promise it’ll feel so good,” you say, jerking his cock a little harder. “Just relax.”

“I can’t relax when you’re doing that to my cock, fuck…” Javi groans.

“I can stop-"

“No, no pares… feels so good.”

His fists press into the pillow either side of your head as he leans forward to drape kisses on your mouth and pelts your eyelashes with hot, tempered breaths. "You're fucking killing me, baby." He whispers.

"That's it, let it in. Fuck my cock, Javi. Just like that."

“Mm, shit…” he gasps as he lets his hips sink. “Bésame,” he says, pushing his lips against yours again.

You slip your tongue in his mouth as he whines, gasping as he breaks through.

He slowly builds a momentum, one that steals his words and breath entirely as his grazed chin runs against your jaw. His cock slides into your palm further as he winds his hips.

“Sit back, Javi. Let it fill you up.”

You put your hands on his thighs and push him backwards gently as he steadies himself upright.

You raise both your knees up and it pushes the dildo further into his ass.

“Fuck… Querida!” He pants, forehead and clavicle shiny with that sheen of sweat already as the room is engulfed with heat.

“That feel good?” You ask, smiling at him.

God, he looks so fucking gorgeous on top of you right now. Face and chest flushed pink and glowing in the light.

“Si, así, que bien se siente… Fuck!”

“A little shift in position got you all fucked up, hmm?” You grin.

“Fuck…” It’s all he can say as he works.

You grip round his slippery, fat cock tighter, feeling it pulse against your palm like it has a spine of its own.

“You’re cute when you ride me.”

“Shut up.” He grunts, blushing harder.

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” He gasps.

“Shy.”

“Shut up.” He tries not to smirk under his moustache, but it’s fruitless. It pours out of his mouth like liquid gold dripping onto your tits.

“You look so good, Javi. So fucking gorgeous.” He always does when he's on top giving it to you, but now you're giving it to him, and it's exquisite to watch him him take it all.

He leans forward again, kissing over your nose, making you smile as he works his hips a little faster on the end of your cock. “Querida, it feels-”

“Tell me.”

“It feels really good.” He grunts. “No puedo creer lo bien que se siente…”

“Told you you’d like it.” You giggle. You raise your hips again and he shudders.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Your cock is so hard, Javi.” You say feeling it throb more in your fist. “You really like this, don’t you? You like me fucking your tight little ass, hmm?”

He doesn’t answer, but the look he gives you confirms it. He’s utterly beside it all, cracked open and split in half; a vacant, glassy look in his eyes. Drunk on silicone cock and drooling for more.

"Such a cock slut, aren't you?"

"Hey!" He growls and you giggle again as he pants and whines.

He doesn't know what to do with himself, his large hands keep coming to your face and then to his hips, and back to your face again as he works and grinds. You’ve got him spun, in a tizz.

Javier Peña is a quivering wreck in front of you, on top of you, riding you.

It’s feels so fucking good he can’t think straight.

You can only imagine what he’ll be like when you eventually get him face down into the mattress and fuck the shit out of his cute little ass.

The thought makes that hot spark flash down your spine and fizz on the end of your clit. You clench around nothing as you fuck up into him some more.

He’s shaking, you can hear it in his voice, those shudders rolling waves on his smoky breath that dislodge from the back cavity of his throat and tumble into your face, all warm and exposed as they peel open.

“Mmm… mmm.” They flow out of his mouth as jumbled whimpers; little rattled grazes of pleasure between gritted teeth that plead for more and cower in the corner behind terrified eye sockets.

You lean up planting kisses over the smooth crest of his sternum, tasting the salt brine that slicks across it mixing with sweet remnants of your own mango shower gel.

You feel one of his hands supporting the back of your head, combing through your hair as you suck his feverish skin into your mouth.

“Still feel good?” You query, looking up at him.

Javi nods, unable to speak and you decide to thrust up into him that bit deeper.

“Fuck!” He whines loudly, his head snapping back.

You stroke his cock harder, wet and rock solid in your hand as you pump. His whole body shakes now, moving in tandem with you.

“Are you gonna come soon, Javi?”

“Fuck… yeah…” he whispers raggedly. "Si, si..."

He pulls you up a little closer to him. Just his hips move, his cock crushed between the two of you now as he cradles you close, slicking between your stomachs as he grinds his ass deep on the dildo.

“Oh fuck!” He growls louder, more unrestrained.

“Yeah. That’s it.” You enthuse.

He takes his cock, jerking it hard; sitting fully upright as his hips swivel around on the dildo stuffed tight in his ass.

“Come for me, Javi.” You urge him, reaching up to stroke his chest. "Come all over me."

You buck up into him again, holding onto his shoulders, weighing him down on the dildo, noticing he’s stopped moving, and then he utterly loses it.

The tip of his cock pulses and squirts thick, pearly ribbons of come from it, splashing over your breasts.

He grunts with the strain, the pleasure coursing through his body at breakneck speed, flooding him. It feels like electricity in his bones, water filling in his lungs.

“Fuck, fuck… fuck!” He pants. A small, breathy chuckle escapes him as he ejaculates; his cock continuing to leak all over his hand and you keep going, pushing up into him as he explodes.

You kiss him delicately, pecking and licking at his lips.

“Mmm shit,” he murmurs against you.

You buck up again, fucking him that little bit harder as he keeps fucking his fist.

“You’re not done yet, Javi.”

There’s so much of it spilling out of him onto your chest as the dildo rubs against the place deep inside of him that makes him boneless putty in your arms.

“Q-querida.” He stammers out.

“Mmhmm?”

“Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“Yeah!” He puffs.

“You coming again?”

“I don't think I've stopped... Jesus fucking Christ!”

"You feel so good, Javi." You praise as he whines and whimpers endlessly.

He flops forward, his body trembling.

“Do you think you can take it a little bigger next time?”

“Mmm, fuck… next time? I… shit.” He can’t even think about next time, he’s still reeling from this time.

“You don’t want to?”

“No I do… no te detengas… I really fucking do.” He’s gasping now, babbling almost in a mix of clumsy Spanish and English as he tries to get his thoughts straight.

He doesn’t want it to end. His hand is a sticky mess, warm and full of his spend that keeps leaking from him.

You giggle as he pushes his forehead against yours, the sweat slipping across it as he breathes out. He can barely keep himself upright.

“Can I fuck you a bit harder?” You ask.

“Que?”

"I wanna fuck you. From behind."

"Si..."

“On your hands and knees, baby.” You smirk at him as you kneel up between his legs as he gets into position.

You squirt some more lube over the dildo and push it gently against his stretched little hole. It squelches as you slide in easily and he hums out in keen want.

You hold onto his cheeks, squeezing as you thrust your hips forward gently, sliding the dildo in with ease as he’s open and relaxed; nice and deep, and his groans shake the walls.

His hand comes over his mouth as though he’s in shock at the noises he just made.

“Let it out, baby.” You say. “I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, Javi.”

“Mmm-mmm-mmm-fuck-fuck!” He faceplants into the pillow, back arching in a way you’ve never seen him flex before.

You see him push back, chasing your cock as you withdraw and plunge in.

“You can’t get enough, can you?” You snicker.

He doesn’t answer, but you know that he wants more; know that he’s close to breaking point again as you fuck him harder. The slick pops of the dildo in and out of his ass fill your ears alongside his moans and growls.

He takes you well, takes you that bit harder as you fuck with determined resilience, your hips snapping into him now.

You’ll know he’ll stop you if it’s too much, you remind him to, but the way he’s growling and panting tells you he never wants you to stop.

“Querida, don’t… I… shit. Fuck!” He pants. “I can’t believe you’re fucking inside me, no puedo creerlo.”

Javi whines, long and low as you grind a little more frantically now, fuck him deeper as he twists at the sheets, grinds on his teeth until they’re worn down to flat stumps in his gums.

“Come for me, Javier.” You press.

His cock still hasn’t fully recovered yet, still half hard, but it doesn’t matter, another creamy load starts to leak from it as you grind up agaisnt that sweet spot inside him, spurting thick globs across the sheets below him.

And he can’t quite believe it.

“There we go.” You praise as you watch Javi shatter into pieces for the second time.

You lean over him, kissing his clammy back gently. "You okay?" You whisper in his ear.

He nods, turning to catch your lips on his his. You pull out of him slowly and gently, discarding the strap-on across the messed up bed and nuzzle into him as he collapses on his back.

He welcomes you in with open, trembling arms, sticky with sweat and come. You feel it smear across your stomach as you get comfy, gluing yourself to him.

“Fuck,” Javi whimpers into your hairline, a shaky kiss pasted there.

“How do you feel?” You ask, fingers stroking over his cut jaw.

He sighs out. “Like... I need about fifty cigarettes.” Javi chuckles, his chest rumbling under you. "Shit."

"You liked it?"

"Si, very much so." He squeezes you in his arms.

“So, do you still hate birthdays?” You query with a smirk after a few minutes of listening to his heartbeat regain its regular pace.

The heat in the room is still stifling and you stick further to him.

Javi chuckles, shaking his head with some slack wonderment. “Sin comentarios.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” you confirm with a grin, nuzzling into him. “Feliz cumpleaños, Javi.”

"Gracias, querida."

JAVI SPANISH:

Si, cariño - Yes, baby/darling

Vamos a casa - Let's go home

Feliz Cumpleaños - Happy Birthday

¿Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am I going to do with you?

Ojos en el camino, señor - Keep your eyes on the road, sir

No te arrepentirás lo prometo - You won't regret it, I promise

Querida - Dear/baby/darling

Sabes que lo hago - You know I do

Mierda - Shit

Ven aquí - Come here

Estas listo? - Are you ready?

No, no pares - No, don't stop

Bésame - Kiss me

Si, así, que bien se siente - Yes, it feels so good

No puedo creer lo bien que se siente - I can't believe how good it feels

No te detengas - Don't stop

Que? - What?

No puedo creerlo - I can't believe it

Sin comentarios - No comment

Gracias, querida - Thank you, darling

Thanks so much for reading! Please consider re-blogging if you enjoyed this story. I'd love to know your thoughts on pegging Javi! Thank you, lovelies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

#PMAMC 2024 #pmamc #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier peña #javi pena #javi peña smut #pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #jett's writing

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

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one of my favorite things is dream’s otherworldliness being reinforced by hob absolutely unknowingly doing something random and innocuous that amounts to an Expression of Feelings, or something that’s part of what dream would consider a courtship ritual or an act of dedication to him; and dream calling him out on it; and hob being like, Oh, that’s not what i meant per se, but i’m 1000% on board and you are glorious and unknowable and don’t mind if i do

(building an entire inn aside...)

just small things, like hob, under a ton of stress at work, decides to throw his distaste for cliche to the winds and singlemindedly apply himself to self-care; he starts growing his own chamomile in his little kitchen garden and develops a sort of elaborate and slightly hedonistic nighttime wind-down ritual which he’s rather proud of—no electronics two hours before bed, classical playing softly on the record player, chamomile tea and honey, lavender pillow spray, time set aside for at least a few lines of poetry before bed, maybe a nice relaxing bath—the whole nine. and if while he’s doing all these things he spares a thought for his friend morpheus, who could really use some being spoiled with fine things, hob thinks, well, who can blame him?

this entire time dream is quietly watching hob do these things, like, hob gadling, my darling; for me???swoon... have the boon of extra restful sleep and fancy, lovely dreams

dream shows up at their next meeting (nothing like centennial now; it’s once a month, because friends do meet up once a month at the pub to talk and laugh and look at each other and tangle their ankles beneath the table... right?) and he’s like, “your attentions have not gone unnoticed, hob gadling,” all warm and affectionate

hob—who, mind you, is living his best life, herb garden thriving, handsomer than ever, not an ounce of tension in his shoulders, lectures divinely inspired by extra-great rest, bookshelf of poetry anthologies overflowing because he’s been reading so much, none the wiser to the favor of one (1) lord of dreams upon him—is utterly nonplussed, like, “my... my attentions?”

hob, ever grounded, ever practical, is thinking, oh my god, i tried playing footsie with him one too many times, and he had to go and notice, didn’t he, and i’m fucked—

dream is like, “your offerings? your rituals?” and poor hob, who is allergic to the occult, and would never knowingly do a ritual in his life; his eyebrows are just... climbing... so dream, thinking his poor human is nervous about rejection, adds, “i assure you, they are most welcome”

cue dream having to explain to hob that he’s basically accidentally made an altar out of his entire house and has been petitioning him with herbs and essential oils and words read with intention and ritual baths and Pointed Thoughts??? and all of it has been, you know, Very Well Received

hob is like, oh my god, let’s not get started on the Thoughts i have about you

dream is all, “and in return, i have given you my favor”

and hob is like, well, shit, i’m into it

and then they fuck in the bath, of course

#the sandman #dreamling

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mizgnomer · 17 days

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Behind the Scenes of Army of Ghosts/Doomsday (Part 20)

Excerpt from SFX (Sept 2014 when “The Doctor and Rose say farewell at Bad Wolf Bay in Doomsday” won 1st place in their 250 Greatest Moments in Sci-Fi, Horror, and Fantasy poll to celebrate their 250th issue):

SFX: Revisionists would have you believe that Who was always a show with emotional impact, but barring a couple of companion departures that didn’t really become true until Russell T Davies. His most heart-destroying contribution was this scene, in which a holographic projection of the Doctor talks to a tearful Rose on a Norwegian beach (actually Southerndown, South Wales), with the signal cutting out just before the slow-coach can declare, “I love you”. It’s a moment everyone can identify with because, as Davies put it, “There’s an echo of every loss you’ve ever had.” We’ve all had to bid farewell to someone we care about even if it wasn’t forced upon us by the threat of universal destruction and this moment perfectly encapulates the agony of break-up.

Russell T Davies: Thank you! I’m not often speechless, but that’s quite astonishing. All I can remember about that day is everyone rushing like mad to get it finished because the tide was coming in. Camille Coduri had to stand on wooden planks in case she sank. But what a cast - David and Billie are simply magnificent. All directed with joy, energy, and madness by Graeme Harper. I’m genuinely surprised that it means that much to people, after all this time, and thank you to everyone who voted.

David Tennant: I remember worrying on the day we shot this that as I was actually a projection from inside the TARDIS my hair shouldn’t be blowing in the wind. That seemed terribly important at the time and although we didn’t find a solution to it, it bothered me for weeks. Then I saw the finished scene and of course all that matters is the end of the Doctor and Rose’s story. Russell had weaved some glorious magic for two seasons and it all came together so perfectly in this scene that people still talk to me about it with misty eyes all these years later (and I suspect they always will.) Murray Gold created some heart-stopping music that accentuates the misery and Billie is just breathtakingly good. I feel very lucky to be standing on that beach, with my hair flying around, in amongst all these brilliant elements. Whatever else I do and wherever else I end up, this will be a moment I will forever be proud to look back on. Thanks for having us at number one.

Link to [ part one ] of the Army of Ghosts/Doomsday Behind-the-scenes posts or click the #whoBtsDoom tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

#david tennant #billie piper #doctor who #rtdedit #doomsday #army of ghosts #all these years later it's still true #such a heartbreaking scene #and it beat some classics in that poll like scenes from alien and star wars and blade runner #as well as newer scenes from avengers and harry potter and the matrix #I'm impressed #stuff i posted #whoBts #whoBtsDoom

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dontyoufeelitangel · 16 days

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This love is difficult, but it’s real

Loving Adam was,,,, something.

Being Adam’s partner was something not many got to call themselves.

Up until recently Adam would hang around. Jumping from groupie to groupie. The ending of his two previous relationships led him to be like that.

It’s only been a couple years in which he’s cut all of his relationships with his groupies off.

In all honesty you didn’t mind the groupies, you understood the position he was in. How can you be a major rock star with two ex wives and NOT sleep around.

So him and his groupie gals had nothing to do with the hiccups in your relationship with him.

But as stated, he’s cut all ties with his old groupies. Sure, he still parties and drinks a lot, but it melts your heart to know he’s made room for you.

The two of you truly loved eachother. It was clear to see.

The head seraphim noticed it,

Winners noticed it,

And even lute caught on.

Not that he minded though, he’d be proud to show you off.

Because to him you were glorious, stunning extravagant, he’d even say your the most angelic there is in heaven.

Which is his fancy way of saying your his favorite

His favorite out of his two previous wives and gosh, he wouldn’t even begin to compare you to his groupies.

He liked you not only for your appearance but for your personality.

No really, he does!

A lot of the time men will say they like someone for their appearance just to get another ticket to bang town, but Adam, oh Adam really loves your personality.

You’re a party gal

You can stay up for hours on end, dance until the club closes and still have energy.

Your insane love for going to parties and his insane love for starting parties is what had you two drawn together.

But under all the dancing, and singing, and drinking, there was one thing you had that Adam didn’t.

An off switch.

You could party for three days straight then come home and be a perfect little wife for Adam.

Only Adam couldn’t stop.

Even when it came to important things he couldn’t seem to think straight.

He doesn’t really care about human souls despite the fact he nearly created them all,

It’s almost like he forgets he was once human too.

You can sympathize with all human souls, and maybe that’s what he liked about you.

Your compassion and kindness,

Yet,

He couldn’t even begin to form a single kind thought for any sinners down below.

This normally doesn’t get in between the two of you.

There’s just one special day, every year, in which many human souls are at hand, and Adam doesn’t even think to spare a thought.

The exterminations.

You hated them, you hated how your husband would go down and slaughter human souls.

He seemed to love it though.

Because of that, problems in your relationship started to bubble up.

“All im saying is that you don’t have to harm that many! Just cut your exorcist team in half then go down. That’s not so bad is it? Just half an exorcist team?” You pleaded with him.

There was an understanding that you couldn’t not make him go. No matter how much he loved you, he loved killing more.

You were pleading with him, whatever you could to help at least one sinner.

“Umm fuck no! I spend aaaalllll year training those bitches! I’m not just gonna make them sit out! That’s totally unfair to them.” Adam crossed his arms while arguing with you.

The two of you were in the kitchen, it was early. You brought up the topic of the exterminations after breakfast hoping he would be slightly relaxed.

The two of you were now standing in the kitchen, he leaned against the sink and you were sitting on the island in the kitchen.

“Well… maybe only let them use hand to hand combat, no weapons, that’s to harsh honey” you offered him another idea. You didn’t want to sound to desperate but even Adam knew you were on your last leg.

“Do you know how much angelic steel costs to produce babe? Plus, I let the girls get custom made weapons,” he started

He shifted his body to face you,

“I don’t see why you care that much, look at you! You’re living the fuckin’ life right now! Lounging around mansions, partying every night AND your with me. I don’t know why you pretend to care about sinners, it’s not like you’ll ever meet them!” Adam threw his arms up. This whole conversation seemed to be a joke to him.

The more he played around the more you got frustrated. He was making you feel like your ideas aren’t worthy and you won’t stand for it.

“Why aren’t you listening?!” You shouted, although it sounded like a strangled whine.

“Killing is wrong! No matter sinner or human. It’s wrong Adam. It’s hard for me to watch you go down this path.” You looked at him. Worry was apparent on your face, you just hoped Adam would notice how serious you were about this.

“ “watch me go down this path!” “ Adam said in a girly voice while holding up air quotes. Obviously mocking you.

“Like your one to talk about the right path. When I met you, you were just some girl who was all alone so all she could do was party in hopes of making friends.” The look he was giving you practically stabbed your heart. Maybe you pushed to hard on the topic of the sinners, regardless, there was no reason for him to talk to you like this.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes as well. You couldn’t even find words.

“I have a reputation to uphold ya’ know? Oh right! I guess you wouldn’t know. You’re just a winner babe, I couldn’t expect you to understand such commands from the divine.” He finished. There was a long pause after he spoke. Maybe he was thinking about what he had just said, or maybe he was waiting for you to say something.

Your mouth was now closed and your eyes now teary.

“Fuck you Adam, really, fuck right off” you said pushing yourself away from the island.

Voice wobbly and laced with anger. Like you had cried and shouted at the same time.

Adam just kinda stood there, he said what he said and he wasn’t going to deny that, but maybe it came out I tad bit more mean than he intended.

You grabbed your stuff and quickly walked to the porch.

You had to wiggle around the couches and the pillows to get to the porch.

Adam scrambled to follow you, still not a peep has come from his mouth.

You opened the doors to the porch and golden light dripped into the house. If you two weren’t fighting it would have been a lovely sight.

You walked out on to the porch itself, it was a third story porch so it was quite high.

Adam didn’t follow you out though,

Rather he watched from the doorway of the porch.

His brows were laced with worry despite just blowing up at you seconds ago.

You hop onto the railings of the porch and steady yourself on them before turning around to look at him.

“God forbid I try to save a life, even if it’s the life of a sinner” you spat. Words like venom. The tears you previously shed were still there but now they were burning with anger.

“You’d think the first man would care for mankind, what a first man you are, maybe Lilith and Eve were right for leaving you” you said.

What you said was mean, yes, but so was what he said. It was unfortunate how both you and Adam would be left on a sour note.

Adam just looked at you, face void of any emotion. A thousand thoughts going through his head.

With a gust of wind you used your wings to push yourself up and off the railings. You flew away from him and your shared house.

You didn’t know where you were flying to, all you knew is that you couldn’t be around him.

You loved him so much, and he loved you just as much.

But like every relationship, this one too has its ups and downs.

It really was a shame though, that this happens every year.

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meryldian · 10 months

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omg love your writing its so GOOD

do you think you could do some more headcanons about growing up with devilsh

np if you cant have a good day or night ❤

★ Growing up with Devilish & Being Tokio Hotel’s 5th member ★ pt.2

AN: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE !!

I decided to merge the requests because they overlap with one another and simply work. I hope this satisfies you !! I’m writing this as a part 2 to my first « Growing up with Devilish/Tokio Hotel » post since it just works!

Warning! Underage drinking and Smoking,sexual themes touched non explicitly, that’s about it. Friendly reminder it’s Tokio Hotel we’re talking about

≛ This is set in 2003 til 2005 right before the release of ddm as it deserves it’s own post.

~ Enjoy your read ~ (not proof read I’m sorry I had to get smth out of the drafts)

Bill was so excited to land that Starsearch audition, he came running to your house once he got the confirmation.

It’s 8pm on a school day and there’s a frantic Bill knocking at your door.

Or window, if it happens to be on the first floor.

I love the idea of your room being on the first floor, that way the boys can sneak in for silly night-ins discussing about the future of your band or watching some disney movies on your VHS player.

Or sometimes you’d sneak in beer, weed, all that good stuff that 12/13 year olds should not be doing but you did it anyway.

Your bedroom was a hideout and safe place, especially for Bill who found so much comfort in you.

The days following to Bill’s audition were spent practising his singing and putting up a killer outfit that would shock everyone.

Not many people had faith in him, but I’m sure you were certain he’d make it.

So when a letter got home after a few weeks saying that he was amongst the best 16 in the country, you sticked out your tongue and middle finger up to the other 3 boys. “I told you so”

When it came the time to interview the band for Bill’s section of the show, you guys knew you’d have to be your best.

Bill helped out picking your outfits for sure. You needed to look cool for the camera. Maybe this would be a breakthrough moment?

You even got to do Georg’s hair, much to his annoyance.

It felt glorious, there was a television team in Loitsche and it was just for you guys. You were the kings of the town for a few hours.

Charlotte, the twins’s mom allows you to come with her to the show. You were so excited to see Bill onstage! (The fandom knew Mami Kaulitz as Simone but she legally deleted that name and only kept Charlotte) (from now on I’ll only refer to her as Mami Kaulitz though)

Once Bill came on stage you knew he was meant to be there, and you dreamed for your band to be able to shine like this by his side.

You were clapping and singing along so happily, the crowd loved him.

The same can’t be said about one particular judge.

When Bill lost he came running into your arms. Poor boy was destroyed. You only had a couple minutes to gather his things and leave so while his grandma comforted him you helped out Mami Kaulitz at getting everything together.

Standing awkwardly by a crying Bill, his grandma and a bunch of strangers while waiting for his mom to finish talking to the host is definitely not your best memory.

Needless to say the ride back home was silent.

Everyone was so proud of Bill nonetheless.

In the following weeks you guys mostly practiced your melodies with the band and tried out new riffs. Bill was quite depressed and refused to get out of his house.

Not even a new outfit, new song or a cool Barbie doll could convince him to get out.

You would physically have to get in and drag him out of bed by his ankles.

Once you yanked him too hard and he fell right on his butt, knocking his head while at it. Tom was wheezing in the back while you tried to help Bill up, avoiding to burst at his misery.

Bill has always been arrogant, so the loss on Starsearch was a big bruise to his ego. You would have to help him rebuild his self-esteem.

Dressing him up prettily and doing his makeup.

Bill would imitate your makeup techniques, he finds you fascinating.

This is how his iconic black eyeshadow look was born.

Overtime it all got better and you guys went back to the routine.

In a way, you’re the glue that sticks everyone together in the band. For sure you’d be a pillar the boys rely on.

Whenever things don’t seem to go the right way you tend to climb on the rooftop and just talk the night away with Georg. You two can have the longest and brightest (sometimes not so) conversations man has known.

Back to the “storyline” Starsearch was not useless in the slightest. Bill’s voice, the band’s rogue look in the interview and the angelic beauty of one of it’s members caught a talent scout’s attention.

Sometime between 2002 and 3 you guys had recorded your Devilish demo, that along with Bill’s appearance in the show had gained you some newfound popularity in town.

Things were still hard but, at least they knew those five losers had talent.

It was a hard and exhausting process til you guys finally signed with Universal. But! Before you could record an album, you all needed some proper training. So during the summer holidays you were accommodated into an apartment with everything you may need.

Now imagine an apartment with 5 young teens living by themselves.

Gustav was in charge of the cooking because if anyone else touched the kitchen you would burn the place down.

Tom has managed to burn water. Do not trust him.

We all know Gustav is a total chef now, but back then let’s be honest.. he could make instant ramen noodles and sandwiches. So most of the time you guys settled on ordering junk.

You guys had sleeping arrangements but it never stopped you from all ending in one room playing video games til the late hours of the night or drinking til you passed out.

Nowadays you guys sometimes cringe at everything you were doing at such a young age.

Parties were strictly forbidden in the apartment so you would all sneak to the nearest park to raise hell. There were no parents to run after you and barely any surveillance around. You guys were free.

You once got so wasted that on the way back home Georg crashed somebody’s window. You still wonder how you never got caught.

There were nights that the place would get so cold that you all ended up as a pile when it came time to sleep.

You didn’t stay like that all night though. You’d wake up coddled against Tom’s leg on the floor as he took up the entire couch. Georg was sprawled on the bed, Gustav rested on an armchair somewhere and Bill made himself a blanket cocoon.

Bill and you still have a very special friendship, so some nights you would both get into the blanket cocoon in the living room and watch some vhs tapes of Nena, Queen and Bowie’s concerts.

Oh and Titanic, for sure. Bill loves the film.

He confessed to you that he was crushing on both Rose and Jack (Bill actually said this)

If you happen to also be in the lgbtq community, you’re in for a queer ride when watching films with Bill.

ESPECIALLY, Labyrinth.

You washed Georg’s hair in the sink once. You never talk about it.

The five of you are oddly comfortable around one another so there was no shame in that.

Nor in walking around barely dressed, making the grossest jokes and acts and being complete degenerates.

The fact Bill mentioned in his book that they’d collectively jack off still haunts me to this day.

You just let them be.

Or join if you’re drunk enough, you be you bestie.

You’re not excluded from the after hour porn binge watching though, that’s like watching the news for you bunch of hormonal brats.

Anything totally inappropriate for your age aside, the five of you have such a beautiful bond. It’s amazing to watch you go.

Of course the twins are a step ahead, but it doesn’t change the fact that as a band and as friends you’re so connected to one another.

You can have more than one soulmate, and the five of you are linked together for sure.

Ok i’m being cheesy.

I’m sorry but Tom was the type to ask you to make out to “practice”

He likes to snatch your bras (if you wear them) and mock you while holding it against his chest.

“Georg next time you take a big shit open the windows and spray there’s a lady living in here” “Look I’m y/n and i’m the best musician in this band” “Pull up your pants you looser”

In return, you have hit him with a bra. How is you weaponize it? I have no idea but you certainly did.

Gustav and you were always the ones to do groceries because if you let the other ones do it, they would come back with anything BUT groceries.

A new turtle for georg, king sized box of condoms, cigarettes, a kiss the cook apron, supposedly haunted doll they found in the trash and a pack of hot wheels toys.

Gustav might be the dad yet it doesn’t take his chaos away from him. He chased you guys around the apartment with a water gun screaming like a madman.

He drums on bowls while cooking it’s cute.

You genuinely had the time of your lives.

But you can’t forget that you were located there for a reason.

Writing music.

Turning this into a series! I’m honestly way too into this idea not to cover the band’s evolution in it’s entirety. The inclusion of this fifth member is genuinely very fun to write and brainstorm about! I’ll mostly write them as the rhythm guitarist as it’s logically the easiest position to sneak into the band. As well as I must say that I am definitely more comfortable writing afab readers but no worries I can and certainly will do male reader <3

See you ~

- Meryl <3

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schaefer #x reader #alien #tokita #tokio hotel imagines #tokio hotel alien

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 27 days

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Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #drabble #jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #series #au #brother's best friend #second chance

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