#life is slipping through my fingers and I can't do anything other than watch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰

A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.

Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.

You weren't even dating.

Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you.

You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case.

But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance.

You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before.

If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison.

Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally.

You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more.

Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?”

“With Spencer.”

“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”

“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very… seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”

“Is Spencer having the same talk?”

She laughed at that.

“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.”

You'd shivered at that and excused yourself.

If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?

You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks.

“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.”

“Can I at least get changed first?”

“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope.

It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.

And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.

An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage.

After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason.

Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members.

“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid.

“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him.

“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you.

“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached.

“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation.

“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly.

“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.”

Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer.

“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself.

“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg.

The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits.

Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night.

Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it.

“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood.

“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath.

“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way.

“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step.

You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.

It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared.

In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less.

Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.

When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you You finally felt a hand at your back.

“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours.

The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.

“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?”

“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.

“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact.

“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.

“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?”

“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down.

“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions.

The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.

You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar.

He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain.

“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry.

You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.

His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you.

It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own.

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate.

“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side.

“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.”

“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you.

“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.

“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.

“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.”

You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you.

Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper.

Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling.

In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands.

“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips.

He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again.

“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word.

“What worked, Y/N?”

“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.”

“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep.

“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 11 months

Text

Baby fever

AN: I'm sure your shock has been imagined that I wrote this. I haven't even watched the video fully yet because I should be have been trying to work on my final assignments for the semester but, I've seen enough to prompt me to write this very impulsively. Apologies to all of the fics I was actively working on (glances at my 2Min drabble with apologetic eyes).

Synopsis: Seeing pictures and videos of your boyfriend with a baby inspires a stronger reaction from you than either of you could have anticipated.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, the plot is barely there if I'm being honest, dirty talk, usage of pet names, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex for the first time, both Reader and Hyunjin cry at points, one mention of Reader worrying she'll draw blood from Hyunjin but no actual blood and it isn't referenced beyond that, very apparent breeding kink and talks about breeding, Hyunjin says mommy once in reference to making Reader a mum, creampie and dacryphilia kink if you squint.

Word count: 3765

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when your phone buzzes with a notification from Felix. He always sends you messages throughout the day, even when he has a pretty packed schedule. Asking you how your day is, telling you about his and sending you short videos and funny pictures of the rest of the members that he manages to catch.

So when you open his message, you expect maybe a selfie with him and Chris or a video of Minho feigning annoyance at being recorded.

What you don't expect is to see Hyunjin. Well, that's not entirely true. Felix sends you pictures and videos of Hyunjin all of the time. What you don't expect is to see your boyfriend awkwardly and carefully holding an incredibly adorable, chubby baby.

He did mention a while ago now that he, Felix, and Jeongin were going to be on some variety show with children, but it had honestly slipped your mind. University has been eating you alive for the past month or so, so any space in your brain for anything that isn't response papers and projects has been minimal.

Now, as you as you sit at your desk with the Word document left untouched, all you can do is stare at the video of Hyunjin trying his best to soothe the baby. His hold on him is very clumsy and it makes you a little anxious but, it's all dwarfed by how softly your boyfriend looks at him and how his massive hands cradle the baby's tiny body to his. The smile on his face is positively radiant, and the little cooing sounds he makes do eventually draw a smile and giggle from the baby comfortably in his arms.

You don't think you've felt your heart constrict more in your chest ever in your entire life. Not even when he told you he loved you for the first time or when the two of you went on your first date or the first time you had sex. Sitting here, seeing him fumble his way through interacting with this baby and the unadulterated softness in his face, completely derails any other train of thought than wanting to have a baby of your own with him.

Which is absolute insanity.

Not only are the two of you nowhere near ready to be parents, your relationship is also not even a year old yet. You've spoken about children, and while you are on the same page, now is nowhere near the time.

Still, the more carnal part of your brain can't find it to care as you continue to scroll through the barage of pictures and videos Felix sent to you. An audible 'aw' leaving your lips when the baby's tiny hand wraps around your boyfriend's finger.

Yeah, there's no way you're getting any work done today.

You practically lunge at Hyunjin when he opens your front door. You swallow his noise of surprise greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing him to the door he just barely manages to close. Despite being caught thoroughly off-guard, he kisses you back. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," he breathes out once he separates himself from your lips, "but, what brought this on?"

"Lix sent me pictures and videos of you with a baby," you mutter against his neck as you kiss along the sensitive skin there. Your blood turning into molten heat in your veins as he squirms and whimpers against you. You're sure you're wet enough already to take him. You've been wet for what feels like hours now.

"Okay?" He says, blinking at you in confusion through the lust induced haze he was momentarily in.

"You looked really cute and happy."

He still doesn't seem to quite understand what about that would cause you to react like this.

"Seeing you with a baby was really attractive," you finally spell out for him.

"Attractive?!" He squeaks out, and you'd usually find that endearing and cause to smush his cheeks between your hands, but you're too highstrung right now.

"Yes," you breathe, resuming your kisses along on his neck, on part of his jaw until you reach his ear, "it was really, really attractive. I couldn't even focus on my work because all I could think about was you cumming inside of me and, putting a baby in me."

You're sure Hyunjin would have crumpled to your floor if he wasn't leaning against your door. He was blushing so hard you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You don't think you've ever seen him get this red, especially so quickly, ever.

"Wh-what?" Is all he can respond with and, in all fairness, you did drop a nuclear bit of information on the poor man, so this reaction isn't exactly unexpected.

You take one of his hands and slip it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, moaning quietly when his fingers come into contact with your soaked slit. Hyunjin isn't unaffected either if the glaze in his eyes and bob of his adam's apple are anything to go by.

"I've been so wet for you all day, Jinnie," you whine, your eyes fluttering slightly and your walls clenching when his fingers run along your folds all on their own.

"Fuck," he grits, catching you by surprise this time around and slamming his mouth into yours. This kiss is more carnal than the last one. It's all teeth and tongue and spit and, all you can do is fist his shirt to steady yourself while his nimble fingers stroke you. You're barely aware that he's pushing you backwards until you find yourself hitting your couch. His mouth remains firmly on yours as you two tumble onto it.

A disappointed whine leaves you when his hand leaves your panties and shorts. Your walls throb borderline painfully, and you feel acutely empty. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you," he has the audacity to laugh, albeit hoarsely.

"Jinnie, I'm ready. Please, I want you inside of me. I'm beyond ready," you whimper, clutching onto his biceps. Giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pout while he clenches his jaw at your words.

"You're trying to kill me," he groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. From the pressure you feel on your thigh right now, you're sure your suggestion sounds tempting right now.

He kisses you more slowly this time. Savouring every brush and press of your lips against his own and, the two of you moan into each other as your tongues caress one another. You thought you'd won until you feel his hands impatiently tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts to the cool air of your apartment. His mouth descending down your neck, lavishing your throat with kisses and licks while you arch into him. Your hands tugging on his dark locks while he kisses down your body.

"Hyun-Hyunjin," you whimper, your hips jolting up into him when his breaths ghost over one of your hardened nipples.

"Are you sure you still want me to just fuck you?" Is all he says before you find your nipple enveloped by his mouth and your other breast in one of his hands.

You're sure you've soaked through your panties and are close to ruining your shorts from the way your wetness trickles out of you with every lick and suck of your boyfriend's sinful mouth. The vibrations from the groans he presses into you only make it all so much worse, along with the precise way his fingers tug and lightly pinch your other nipple.

Hyunjin would happily spend hours with his mouth and hands all over your breasts if history is any indication. However, as eyeroll and toe-curl inducing as this all feels, you're determined to get your way.

Your hands cup his face and pull him up to you. The frown on his thoroughly kissed lips almost makes you laugh, but you kiss him before the giggles get the better of you, and he complains about you ruining his time with your tits.

"Want you," you mutter against his lips, palming his erection through his jeans. The evidence of his want for you clear as day and heavy in your palm. You're tempted to just flip him over and sink down on him yourself.

"An-And I'm the one always being called impatient," he retorts with an affectionate roll of his eyes and kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"It's not my fault you looked so attractive," you respond with a shrug, biting back the complaint on the tip of the tongue when he peels away from you to tug off his shirt. God, you really must be the luckiest woman alive.

"I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says distractedly, impatiently tugging down his jeans and leaving him in nothing but his black boxers that cling in a horribly tempting way to his slender hips and, outline his hard cock.

You're not sure whether your mouth or pussy waters more.

Hyunjin flushes under your intense gaze, as if you haven't seen him naked more times than both of you could count. It still boggles your mind sometimes how your boyfriend can turn from confident, sexy and suave to an awkward, flustered mess in an instant. Well, that duality is among the multitude of reasons you're so irrevocably in love with him.

"You're staring," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

"It's not my fault you're so hot," you retort, delighting in the deepening blush on his cheeks. He's just too easy for his own good.

He just huffs in parts exasperation and embarrassment, choosing instead to focus on getting you naked. The playful atmosphere quickly dissipates as he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off.

Once he's tossed them somewhere to join the heap of clothes littering your floor, Hyunjin settles himself between your thighs once more but, on his stomach this time. You really, really wish he'd just fuck you and before you're able to verbalise that thought, your boyfriend takes a slow, deliberate lick at you.

A strangled gasp flies from your lips and your hips jolt but, his large hands hold you firm. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" He asks, his stupid, pretty brown eyes boring into yours through his dark hair. His mouth hovers above you, as if waiting for some sort of response from you.

"Fuck, fine Jinnie, okay. Please, just do some-" your words are cut off by a choked sob when Hyunjin takes your words as a green light. His lips attached themselves to your poor clit, licking and sucking in ways that tighten the knots in your gut and causes your toes to curl. Your fingers weaving themselves into his hair and tugging, which prompts a whimper from your boyfriend. The vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

A pitchy moans of his name fill the air of your apartment when his slender fingers toy with your entrance. Barely breaching your hole and you want to scream.

"Hyunjin," you whimper out, impatiently tugging on his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against you with a smile and, pushes two of his fingers into you gradually.

They don't fill you nearly as much as you need but, they're better than nothing. That thought is particularly bolstered when he curls them inside of you, only needing a few moments before he finds the spot inside of you that makes your thighs quiver and your mind to go blank. Combined with his unrelenting ministrations on your poor, sensitive clit and how needy you've been for him all day, it all becomes too much so quickly.

"Hyun-Hyunjin, Jinnie. I- I'm-" You're not even sure what you're trying to articulate but, the jumbled mess of words seem to only motivate your boyfriend further. He curls his fingers harder and laps at your clit with renewed enthusiasm.

That's all it takes for everything to fracture.

You're sure the grip you have on Hyunjin's hair hurts but, you can't help it. Everything seizes and your walls spasm viciously, clamping down so harshly on Hyunjin's fingers he can barely keep curling them inside of you. Still, he tries. He's not as intense as he was moments ago but, still fingers you through your orgasm while his tongue gently laps up everything you give him.

You sag against your couch once your body relaxes. You're half certain you'd float up into the air if Hyunjin's grip on you wasn't still so strong. Speaking of your boyfriend, he does eventually unlatches himself from your hypersensitive clit. His hair is completely dishevelled, and you could already see a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. His tongue pokes out to chase every bit of you he can on his bruised lips, his eyes dark.

You're sure he feels the way you clench around his fingers despite quite literally just cumming. He leans down to hungrily kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue that he pushes into your eager mouth. As if your mind isn't muddled enough. You moan into him when he very slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Now you feel so empty that it physically hurts.

"Jinnie," you plead, your fingers reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen jumping with every brush of your fingers against them. One of his hands comes down to cup your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"Fine, fine," he says after pulling away from you and tugging his boxers down. His cock, flushed an appealing red, bobbing in the air between the two of you as he drops his boxers on your floor. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and even more of your wetness leaks out of you, smearing your inner thighs.

Hyunjin gets up, and that kicks you out of the stupor you were in. Your hand shoots to grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Where are you you going?"

"To uh...get condoms?" He asks, confusion evident in both his voice and handsome face.

"Why?"

"Wh-Why?"

"Yeah, why? I'm okay with not using them if you are. I wasn't kidding when I said I really want you to cum inside of me."

Hyunjin closes his eyes then. Gritting his teeth before responding, "What about...y'know? Not that I don't want to have children with you eventually but-"

"Jinnie, I'm on the pill. I have been since I was a teenager."

That stops Hyunjin. His big, brown eyes blinking at you as if he can't quite believe that this is real. That this is happening.

You soften then, slipping your hand downwards to intertwine your fingers with his longer one, "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. We can use condoms if that's what you're comfortable with."

That seems to only make your boyfriend flail harder, "No, no. It's not that I don't want to. Honestly, I've thought about it a lot," that makes you raise an eyebrow, "I've just never- I've just never done it without a condom before."

"Neither have I," you respond easily.

"Really?"

The look you give him is enough for Hyunjin to recognise what a dumb question that was, "Right, okay, sorry."

That seems to ease his anxieties significantly, he doesn't look nearly as tense as he did when you suggested the idea. You tug him down into another deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he resumes his place between your thighs. Gasps leaving both of you when his cock nudges at your very wet folds, the barely there pressure and searing heat causing your nails to dig into his shoulders.

"You're 100% sure about this right?" He asks once more, his eyes swirling with nervousness and desire.

While you appreciate how sweet he's being, you're seconds from pulling out your hair if he doesn't just fuck you right now. However, an idea comes to your mind to finally entice your boyfriend into fully letting go.

One of your hands reaches down until you reach the apex of your thighs, spreading your pussy for him to see just how sure you are.

"Yes, Jinnie. Fuck me, please."

Something in Hyunjin snaps then. His mouth swallowing your whimpers as he finally sinks into you. You can feel him practically vibrating with the effort to keep himself composed.

He's so hot inside of you. You're not sure sex has ever felt so intense. You've had him inside of you hundreds of times but, this...this is completely different. You swear you can feel everything. Every twitch and every throb and every vein as your walls melt around him. Before you know it, you're blinking away tears from how overwhelming it all is and pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs around him.

"Fuck, wait. Shit, don't do that. Don't move," he chokes out into the hollow of your throat, his own hold on your hips growing harsh and his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

"Jinnie, move," you whine into his ear, you can barely recognise yourself. You sound so foreign to your own ears but, from the way Hyunjin's hips slightly jolt and he mutters a string of curses against your skin, he might be into this new state of fucked out you've managed to achieve.

You thought it couldn't be even intense, but then Hyunjin moves, and you're pretty sure your visions goes black at the edges for a few seconds. There's no way to tell who moans louder but, you both press your noises into each other's skin all the same. Your nails drag down his back so hard that you're briefly worried that you might have drawn blood.

"Baby," Hyunjin whimpers out, thrusting into you slowly and shallowly, barely satisfying either of you, "Baby, I need you to relax. I-I won't last if you don't."

His words only instinctively make you tighten around him, made all the worse since he's so deeply nestled of you. Your walls massaging him and generously coating him in your slick.

"I want it, Jinnie. I don't care, please," you don't know what's possessed you but, the realisation that he very really could fill you with his cum hits you like a train. You pull him even closer to you, "Fuck me all you want. Cum inside of me all you want. Breed me all you want, Jinnie."

Something broken and feral slips from his lips, his teeth ghost over your throat as he fucks into you without abandon. The sounds of your skin colliding and your respective sounds of pleasure echoing all throughout your living room, and probably throughout your entire apartment.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck my baby into you?" He grits out possesively, "Want me to make you swollen with my ba-baby and make you a mommy?"

"Please, yes, Jinnie," you moan, holding onto him for dear life as he seems determined to make his words a reality. Both of you completely lost in each other and delirious.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he moans against your shoulder in-between kisses that are more spit and tongue than anything else. "Fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up with my cum until it's leaking out of you for days. Gonna breed you so good," he slurs, his heavy pants joining the symphony of sounds currently playing through your living room. You're certain you'll have bruises on your hips in the morning but, you couldn't care less. You want it. You want it more than anything.

It's always easy to tell when Hyunjin is about to cum. Your boyfriend isn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, and from the increase in the frequency of curses and moans and the way he holds onto you, you know he's teetering on the edge. You are, too, if you're being honest, but you're more invested in him falling apart. A choked sob of your name is the only warning you receive before you feel his cock twitch inside of you incessantly and warmth flooding your awaiting pussy.

You're surprised to feel some wetness on your shoulder and, concern trumps any other emotion when you register that. Your hands reach to cup his face, a few stray tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Hey, Jinnie baby, is everything okay?"

It takes him a few moments to find the words to respond to you, and you rub your thumb soothing on his cheek while you wait for him patiently.

"I-I-I don't think I've e-ever cum so hard. It-It was really i-intense," he hiccups out, nuzzling into your grasp.

Oh.

Well, that puts the tears on his face into a very different light and, perhaps you've discovered another new thing about yourself today.

"I'm sorry. I got a little...out of control at the end there," he mutters, his face speeding from pink to red as he avoids your gaze studiously.

"Jinnie, you have nothing to apologise for," you tug him towards you and plant featherlight kisses on his cheek, "It was really fucking hot, if I'm being honest."

That only makes your boyfriend blush harder and seek refuge in your shoulder after groaning in embarrassment. The movement quickly reminds you that he's still very much inside of you right now and that his cum is slowly starting to trickle out of you but, you feel too boneless to even entertain the idea of getting up right now.

"I'm still surprised seeing me with a baby resulted in all of this," he says after his embarrassment subsides, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your thigh.

"Wouldn't see me with a baby make you feel the same way?"

He seems to ponder on that for a little bit before replying, "Fair point. You know, when we do eventually have one of our own, I hope they have your eyes."

This stupid man and the way he makes your heart race.

"Well, I hope they have your eyes and your pouty lips and your dimples," you retort, feeling very, very shy all of a sudden as though this isn't happening because of you.

"We'll just have to have more than one then. You know, just to make sure they get all of the traits we want them to get," he has the nerve to grin at you.

"Hyunjin!" You cry, scandalised, warmth flooding your face. However, you can't deny that a bunch of children with his smile and kind eyes doesn't sound like the such a bad idea.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut

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stumacherspillowprincess · 1 year

Text

How to Please You

Stu Macher X Reader

Don’t come after my life if my writing isn’t up to par, it’s been a long time since I’ve written on another platform.

- Stu Macher’s Pillow Princess

(Let it be known I’m a switch at heart but I would let this man demolish me if he wanted to.)

You stumble through Stu’s house reaching the staircase. You sit for a moment and then call out for Randy, but he’s distracted by the movie playing on the tv and the horde of guys calling out obscenities to Jamie Lee Curtis in ‘Halloween’. You close your eyes for a moment and you feel a warm body sit next to you on the steps.

It’s Stu.

He laughs and puts his arm around you.

“There’s a reason you don’t drink keg beer, you drink the good shit I keep around for the pretty girls, that beer is trash.”

Pretty girl? You think, You haven’t had 2 seconds alone with this man since the beginning of time. He’s so forward.

“I’m not drunk Stu, I slipped and fell hard in the kitchen and my everything hurts.”

“Well little miss clumsy if you need to lay down or something your little boyfriend can take you up to my parents room.”

“Randy’s not my boyfriend.” You scoff.

You’ve been on one ‘date’ if hanging out at the video store after hours even counts as one.

“Like hell he is, every time I walk into that lousy ass video store he’s flapping that fucking mouth about you.”

“Not enough apparently because I’m sitting here with a sore ass and he’s too busy watching movies.”

“I’m not too busy for you and your sore ass” He grins stupidly as he pokes at your side.

You hit him playfully on the shoulder. He smirks.

“Come on, a bed’s gotta be comfier than these stairs”

He grabs your hand and lifts you to stand. He wraps his arm around your waist and grips you hard, almost carrying you up the stairs. He leads you to a room at the end of the hall. He closes the door and you hear a slight click.

‘Did he lock it?’

You plop down on the bed and fall back on the pillows. You feel Stu sit on the edge. He places his hand on your leg.

“Comfy?”

“Mhm”.

“You know.. I gotta ask .. because me and the guys just… can't seem to figure out how virgin extraordinaire landed you?”

“He’s sweet to me, plus how about you show me the list of available guys in our school that aren’t assholes or taken”.

“So because of Tatum I didn’t make the cut?”

“No.. you’re not on my list because you’re an asshole.”

He laughs. “Oh really now? I didn’t know” his sarcasm is all too much. “Wipe the smirk off your face”. He looks at your mouth and then back to your eyes.

You giggle at his frustration.

“Or what? you’ll do it for me?” You put your finger to his chest.

“I could do more than that..” his touches your hand with his fingers tracing patterns on the back of your palm.

His eyes wander for a second but he pops back into reality and blinks a few times. You place your hands in your lap.

“So tell me, have you popped old randy’s cherry yet?” He nudges you playfully.

“No one’s popping anything.”

“Nothing? Come on babe! a girls gotta have needs right? The kid isn't satisfying you in other ways?” He taps his fingers on your leg.

“No stu, Randy’s a virgin, in all ways, shapes, and forms”. You grab his hand and move it off of you placing it on the bed.

“So what do virgins do on a friday night? Play fucking checkers and call it a night? You gotta do better than that”. He shakes his head.

“What do I even do? He’s so sweet but he wouldn’t know how to make a move if I stripped naked and threw myself at him”.

“Oh really? That easy huh?

“Oh fuck you, I didn’t meant it like that. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“I could show you a thing or two”.

“You dick-” you grab and pillow and try to whack him, he grabs it and he tosses it on the ground

“I’m not kidding you want to please your man don’t you?”

“You’re lying, what would your girlfriend say about that?”

“She won’t say shit, because I’m not gonna tell her. Are you telling me you’d look Tatum in the eyes and tell her what we did?”

“But we didn’t do anything”

He grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You sit upright as he moves closer to you. .

“Yet.”

“But s-stu-”

“But-but Stu what? You think I don't know what you want? Fuck, I’ve always thought about it.”

“You think about me?” You bite your lip.

“You think me and Billy sit around and play who’s got the bigger dick all day long when we hang out? We talk about all the ladies we'd like to have-”

You cut him off

“Billy would probably win that argument”

Stu stands up grunting a little in frustration.

“You just like being a little brat don’t you. I was gonna show you mine but I guess you don't get to see it now.”

“Wait wha-”

“I mean if you insist I’d hate for all this to be a waste.”

He grabs your hand and places it on his chest and guides it down his stomach to his pants. He’s so hard.

“What are you doing?” You look up at him innocently.

“You want to learn how to please?” His voice gets lower.

“I-I don’t really know what to say, I’m a little-”

“Intimidated?” He cuts you off. “You don’t have to say anything, just listen.”

He grabs your chin and leans your face up so your eyes meet his.

“Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you..”

“I wasn’t afraid of that.”

“Afraid you’d enjoy me too much?”

“Then what Stu? We go back to class on Monday and act like this was some dream?”

“Maybe I enjoy you too much and make you my girl.”

“I don’t want to rely on maybes..”

“You talk too much, maybe I should show you something to shut you up for a second.”

“Huh?”

He pushes you back on the bed and climbs on top of you kissing you without hesitation. His hands find their way to your chest grabbing at you hard. His kiss is rough, it only makes you want him more. His lips move to your neck biting you softly,

‘will this leave a mark?’

You think to yourself. His kisses trail down to your chest then turn to biting and sucking. A noticeable hickey would form, but you didn’t care, you could always wear a high collar t-shirt for the next week.

You moan out his name.

“Oh babe we’re just getting started.”

His hands feel down your thigh, his fingers moving up your skirt to your panties. He rubs the outside of you, you can feel yourself getting wetter at the touch of his fingers.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm” you close your eyes hard diving into the feel of his touch.

“I want you to use your words.”

“Y-es, you feel good.”

“That’s my girl”.

‘His girl?’

You love the sound of that. His fingers inched their way into your panties.

Those hands.. The way he was rubbing you was sending pulses throughout your whole body.

“Tell me you want it” He gritted his teeth. How turned on is he?

“I want it.”

“Do you need it?”

“I need it”

“Beg”

“Please, I can’t take it anymore.” It feels like you can’t breathe.

His slipped his fingers inside of you. You audibly gasp and he smiles at you. He’s almost proud of himself. They were almost too big to fit,

“Come on babe if you can’t handle this how could handle the rest of me?”

In and out his fingers moved slower, faster, it felt like You could just lose yourself all over his hand.

“You can wait.”

He stopped abruptly. Fuck.

“What are you doing.”

You were almost mad that he stopped.

‘Why would he do that? Maybe he likes the power?’

“Now I know how you like to be pleased..”

You sit up, chest heaving, you look into his eyes.

“Fuck you.”

“Not yet. It’s my turn.”

He stands up and backs away from the bed raising his hand to his mouth, his fingers touching his lips and tasting them. Tasting you. You stand up slowly. Wobbly. You put your hands on his hips. His hand reaches behind your neck pulling your face closer kissing you. He’s needy. You can feel the want in his kiss. He pulls you against him. He’s so hard.

You turn him so his back is to the bed. And push him down. He sits and looks up at you smirking ever so slightly.

“So you’re the one in charge now?”

You let out a breathy laugh for a moment.

“You have no idea,” pointing to his pants you only have to say two words.

“Pants. Now”

Stu grins and bites his lip as he struggles to undo his buckle and zipper. He’s a little too excited. You sit on his lap and pull his dick out of his boxers. He’s already ready to go.

You start stroking him and he leans his head back eyes closed tightly. He grips your thighs with those strong hands. He wants you so badly to just get on top already.

“Does that feel good?”

“Fuck, you know it does”

His hips start moving up and down to the rhythm of your hand sliding up and down his dick.

“I just need you already”

“How badly?”

“Like I need air” he gasps “fuck”

“Beg”

“Beg?”

He’s shocked? His own word used against him.

You stop. He looks at you in surprise.

“You’re such a dick.” He breathes out.

“I don’t hear you begging..”

“Please”

“That doesn’t sound real” you shake your head disappointed.

“Come on” he teases.

“Fine, that’s too bad I guess you’d rather I go downstairs and leave you like this” you shrug and move to get off of him.

“You aren’t going anywhere”

He leans up and place one hand on your ass pulling you closer, and the other hand up to the back of your head. His fingers grip at your hair bringing you close to kiss again. You grip at his sweater and pull it up and off of him tossing it to the side. You reach your hand around his dick again. He tenses up at the motion of your stroking.

He moans into your mouth.

“Please, I’m not fucking kidding anymore. I need this. I need you. Take these fucking things off and come here”

He tugs at your Panties trying to pull them down.

“You take them off if you want it so badly”

His fingers grasping gently turned to both hands gripping tightly and ripping them off. He tossed them on the ground and smiles into the kiss.

“Oops, I’ll just have to buy you a new pair.”

In one swift movement you grip and slide his throbbing dick inside of you. He’s so thick, he just fits so perfectly. You gasp as it enters. The warmth and wetness is too much for him. He lays back and moans gripping the sheets with one hand as the other remains on your hip. He bucks into you.

“F-fuck, you feel too good I can’t.”

He moans louder.

You place your hand on his mouth trying to muffle his moans.

“They’ll hear us.”

He grips your hand and moves it to his chest.

“Fuck them. This is my fucking house”

“Oh yeah?”

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.”

He grips your hips rocking you back and forth on top of him as he fucks you from underneath.

Both of your hands resting on his chest you grind harder on top of him. He’s slipping.

“Yes please fuck. I can’t” he cries out.

“Yes you can stu. Who’s dick is this?”

You’re in charge now.

“It’s all yours babe, yours”

“Are you gonna cum for me? Stu”

“Yes, please I want to. Fuck you feel too good”

You bring his hands up to grip your breasts. And bounce harder and faster on him. Your whole body is tense.

“Fuck stu”

Your breathing quickens as you feel yourself getting closer. You feel your thighs gripped his waist tighter and tighter. Both your moans getting louder, matching ‘yes’s and him moaning your name over and over.

You feel it building inside of you as you ride harder and harder. And finally

Your orgasm makes you tighten around him pushing him over the edge as your body melts all over him. He finally cums and his grip was tight as he fills you up. His hands would leave an imprint. He gasps and let’s you ride every last drop out of him.

You gasp and moan as you collapse onto his chest.

It could have been hours or minutes before you could come back to the reality that you were in Mr. and Mrs. Macher’s bed, a party happening down below, and the fear that someone could catch you.

He wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt on the bed to the left of you guys. And wraps his arms around you. His lips kiss your forehead.

“Fuck” He’s breathing hard.

“I know” you smile into his chest.

“You just-”

“I know”

“Goddamn My head is spinning” his hands rub his face.

You both lay for a minute. Him still inside of you. Catching your breath. Someone knocks on the door.

“Who’s in there”

“Who the fucks asking?”

“Who the fuck else?”

It’s only Billy.

“Give me a minute Billy I’ll be right there”

You get off of him and walk across the room, sitting at the vanity and looking into the mirror fixing your hair and clothes.

It seems like he feels your reaction to the sex wasn’t as life altering as he assumed it was for you. Even if it was you weren’t gonna let him have the satisfaction.

“What the fuck just happened- it’s like you-”

“Knew what I was doing?”

He nodded questionably.

“I never said I was a virgin stu, randy is. You aren’t the first to “teach” me anything”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He laughs nervously.

“Why don’t you ask Billy?”

You smirk as you open the door and walk out. Leaving him speechless. Billy is there standing against the hallway wall. He looks you up and down. Biting his lip. And raising his eyebrows at you.

“Now you’re not the first person I expected to walk out of there but you were definitely on the list”

You smirk.

“I didn’t expect last weekend either so just add this to your pile of secrets you have.”

He smirks as you walk away to join the party downstairs. Maybe he taught you well.

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #scream #Matthew lillard x reader #fanfic #Matthew lillard #stu macher imagine #imagine #flirting #ghostface #billy loomis #skeet ulrich

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kiwisbell · 7 months

Text

Diamante [javi gutierrez]

You and Javi really, really love each other.

my masterlist!

pairing: javi g x f!reader

tags and warnings: no plot just smut and fluff, tooth-rotting sweetness from our javi, save a horse ride a movie star, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (you know the drill), sex in a limo, face-fucking, slightly sub!javi, spanish pet names, pure unadulterated fluff, and lots of fuckin', javi and reader are sickeningly in love, journalist!reader, eat (out) the rich, getting caught during sex

word count: ~ 7.3k

javi g is the only man and i love him dearly. please enjoy <33

DIAMANTE

There's never been a luckier son of a bitch than Javi G.

He knows it for a fact. Sure, he's had career troubles (who hasn't?) and a couple life-threatening encounters, but if a man has to face down his cousin's drug cartel to wake up next to the most beautiful woman in the world every single day...

Yeah. He's lucky as shit.

The sunlight slips through the window and turns your skin golden. Your brow is smoothed over and your lips parted, your face a field of peace. You're naked from your marathon of sex last night, and the planes of your body are so smooth, so enticing, that Javi's mouth is on you before he's fully awake. He can't help it; his body seeks your warmth; he loves the heat of your skin and the way you softly squirm in your sleep as his lips make a path down your body.

He cannot fucking believe he found you.

Alone at the bar during his own birthday party, you walked right up to him and slid a martini under his nose. "Do you care to comment on the recent rumours of an illicit drug trade between Spain and the United States, Señor Gutierrez?"

Javi swallowed hard. Next to him was a beautiful woman he'd never seen before, wrapped in a tight black dress and staring at him with a gleaming smile. You were a vision sent from heaven, and his mouth had gone dry as cotton.

You watched him with amusement in your eyes, and he noticed a small recording device on the bar top.

It was then he realised he should be speaking.

"The… what?"

Once you clarified patiently, he told you he didn't know a thing about such deals (it was the truth, so far as he let his cousin Lucas handle the business), and you just smiled like you already knew. Certainly, Javi was the figurehead: he had the looks, the air of danger about him, enough money to make people like him and fear him. It was smart, and it was all a ruse—one that didn’t seem to fool you for a moment.

You were stunning. A true vision. Your nails were perfectly manicured and your skin so smooth, hair so soft. You looked like you'd never been in a rough part of town, much less a war zone.

He would find out later how wrong that impression was.

Javi wanted to shield you from all the horrific things he'd seen. He wanted to push you into his car and drive you far away from the prying eyes of Lucas's men. You didn't deserve to be caught in all of this. A diamond cut from coal, something to cherish.

But you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. You leaned in close, your breath minty and touched with spiced rum, and placed a hand over his. "He's a dangerous man, Señor Gutierrez," you whispered. "And you're too good for all of it."

His breath left him. His eyes found yours once more, and it took him a moment to conjure the words. "How do you know what I am?"

"I know a lot about you." Your eyes shone with compassion. "Probably why I already like you so much."

He did not want to fuck this up. He would not fuck this up.

That is, until he let his mouth do all the work.

"Can I take you to dinner?" he blurted out.

You sat back as a grin overtook your face. With a swift flick of your fingers, you turned the recorder off. "I can't use any of this," you said with a huff.

Javi leaned forward this time. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Then how about we start with a drink," you said, "and you can tell me all about that movie I know you're writing."

That was five years ago. It took him six months to get you to agree to go on a date. Between your travelling, his travelling, and your insatiable desire to put yourself in danger at all times for the right story, you and Javi could never work. After the first date (a steakhouse, then a boat ride, then stargazing, and then and then and then until you and he were stumbling through his home, knocking everything over until you reached his bedroom and he spread you out, made you scream with pleasure), there was nothing you could possibly do to keep yourself away from him. You were Javi's as he was yours: instantly, inextricably, and for the rest of your fucking lives.

The problem was keeping it secret. Five years of hiding, sneaking around, receding into dark corners and safe houses, and making time wherever you could find it. It was all worth it, a hundred times over, to keep you safe, but he wanted to show you off—give you the world, give you the publicity you deserved, show you off in your pretty dresses and let the world know you had him wrapped around your finger.

You had given him so much shit for facing down Lucas by himself. You waited for him all day in the safe house outside Mallorca, only to chew him out for twenty minutes straight when he arrived, bleeding from the arm but beaming wide. He was used to your anger; when it rose, you could go on for as long as you had air in your lungs. He knew you weren't truly mad at him. You just had to let it go. Once it was out of your system, you threw yourself at him and kissed him until you were both breathless. "Now you know how I feel," he muttered against your mouth. "My dangerous girl."

"Don't push your luck," you snapped, going right back in to devour him once more.

"You love me?" he whispered into your mouth.

Your eyes met his when you pulled back and he watched them gleam with admiration. "I love you."

Now that he doesn't have to hide, he flaunts you every fucking second of every goddamn day.

You blink awake when you feel pressure between your legs. "Javi," you gasp at the sight of his messy hair beneath the bed sheet.

Javi grins up at you from between your legs, resting his head on your thigh. His eyes are like a puppy's, wide and eager. "Hi."

"Hi," you laugh, your head falling back against the pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's Sunday. Time doesn't matter on Sundays. Can I taste you, mi cielo?"

You have to hand it to him: Javi knows what he wants. It's hard to consolidate your amusement and arousal as he squeezes your flesh, kneads you like he's getting out all his stress, spreading your thighs wide enough for him to lie comfortably between them. "You don't want breakfast first?" you coo, threading your fingers through his hair while he uses you like a pillow.

On any other day, breakfast could be brought to your room by the chefs at a moment's notice, or you and Javi could cook together (well, you could cook while he distracts you by touching you all over). But he's right: today's Sunday, the chefs don't work, and you're so fucking happy here. Here, in your giant bed, in your giant bedroom, where you're the only two people in the world.

You shriek with laughter when Javi, kissing his way up your belly, brushes his fingers up your sides. "Tickles!" you manage to gasp.

Javi continues his work, holding onto your hips while he makes it to your breasts. Your nipples are perky in the cool morning air, and Javi can't resist taking one into his mouth. "Oh," you sigh, "you're unbelievable."

He just hums, sending a shockwave down your spine. “You're so beautiful."

You smile tiredly, brushing your hand through his soft hair. "Look who's talking," you say, voice groggy with sleep. "My handsome man."

He preens under your attention, his need to please you so desperate it makes him shiver with excitement when he ducks his head and bites down on the inside of your thigh. You yelp, then laugh, your voice like bells in his head. "Too early," you say weakly.

"Mi diamante, I wanna make you feel good," he says, voice pitching up in a whine. "Te amo. Please."

His fingers squeeze your thighs, his pleading brown eyes craving your consent, pupils dark with arousal, and you're wide awake, nodding your head and brushing your thumb across his cheek. "Te amo," you say softly. "My love. Make me feel good."

He's so eager it fills your chest with warmth. His big hands are curled around your thighs to keep you still as he flattens his tongue between your folds and licks up your slit. He knows your body so well that he laughs when your hips jerk up to meet his mouth. "Patience, mi cielo ," he mumbles, flicking his tongue against your clit.

It's you in charge of things around here, and he knows it. He loves it, in fact. It makes him so hot with need, so hard he grinds his hips against the mattress for relief when you grab hold of his hair and beg, "More, Javi. Please, honey."

"'M going to give you more," he says, diving back in and licking deep inside you, tasting your wetness and latching onto your clit. You let your head fall back when a weak moan rips from your throat, but you want to watch him while he eats you out. Lifting your head back up, you see him with his eyes closed, fingers digging into you so hard they'll leave bruises, groans spilling from his mouth like he's the one lost in pleasure. It makes you whimper his name, and he opens his eyes to meet yours as he continues sucking at your clit.

“S’good,” you tell him, writhing so badly he snakes one hand up to press down on your belly. “So gooood... Oh! Javi—fuck!”

You're loud in bed, and so is Javi, and you both annoy the housekeepers to no end. You hang a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door from dusk until noon each day, just in case. Still, it's hard to believe they don't hear the noises coming from your bedroom every night. Javi signs their cheques, so they never say a word.

He continues alternating between sucking and lapping up your arousal with his expert tongue while you cry out his name like a chant. His own moans create delicious vibrations up your centre as he devours you like he's eating his last meal. “Javi, I'm going to… I’m—” He wiggles his tongue back and forth across your clit and you're bursting, soaking his tongue and slapping your hand over your mouth to drown your cries.

He reaches up and grabs your wrist. "Let me hear you," he mutters, licking everywhere but your clit to keep from overstimulating you as you come down from your high. You're sighing and groaning, your body melting into the mattress as your bones deflate. You feel like you're floating.

He's crawling back up your body and pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You feel his erection on your belly, heavy and leaking, but he's paying no mind to the fact he's hard as rock. He's just lavishing attention on you. Javi never takes, just gives and gives and gives. While he seems to take just as much pleasure from making you come as you do, it feels so good to make him happy, to make him orgasm, watching his beautiful face scrunch up when he spills down your throat, hearing him ramble away in Spanish when you're taking him so well, tan bueno . He doesn't ask for a thing, but you love to give and give as much as he will let you.

That said, his pretty brown eyes are gleaming with a plea. "One more?" he begs, sliding a hand up your side, making you shiver. "Can I have one more?"

You grin up at him, pushing his damp hair back from his face. It's curling around his neck and forehead from the sweat, and he looks as fucked as you feel. "Breakfast," you say, tipping your head up to capture his mouth. "And then I'll give you what you need, baby."

He growls into your mouth. "Can't wait to taste you again, mi cielo. Need it."

Smirking, you reach between your bodies and squeeze the base of his cock. He sucks in a breath, bucking against you, a whine leaving his mouth. “That's not what I meant, my love. I'm going to give you what you need.”

His forehead drops to yours. “I just need you, my love.”

You slide your hands up his shoulders, admiring the smooth, hard muscles, and cup his face. "My sweet boy.” He grins, nudging his strong nose against yours. “Pick out my clothes for today, okay? Anything you want. We’ll go out, do something.”

His eyes are bright with eagerness. "Anything?"

You laugh. "It's gotta cover my ass, baby. We might be in public."

"But it's such a beautiful ass," he says, rolling you over so you're on your stomach, sprawled out under him as he crawls down your body and makes a point of his statement by biting into the flesh of your right cheek.

You yelp. “Javi!”

He lands a smack to your ass. You wiggle it slightly, loving the way his eyes darken until the pupils are large enough to swallow his irises. "Want everyone else looking at it? Want them all to see?"

He huffs, his head falling onto your ass like it's a pillow. “Fuck. I'm sorry, mi diamante . I'm putting you in a burlap sack. I want you all to myself.”

He makes his way back up toward you at your gentle urging, kissing all the way, until you can gather him in your arms again.

You hum softly, resting your head right where his heart is. "I'm all yours, my love. Right where I wanna be." Tracing your finger around a freckle on his left pectoral, you add, "And I'll look just as hot in a burlap sack."

Javi chuckles, kissing your head. "I know, darling."

"Javi?"

His voice drifts from the bedroom. "¿Sí?"

You smirk, knowing what's about to come. "Can you zip me up?"

The instant noise of footsteps makes you laugh, and Javi's right behind you, his gaze hungry as it lands on your bare back. His hands settle at your hips. "Muy hermosa ..." The zipper begins to slide downward until it catches at the small of your back. “Everybody will be looking at you.”

You say his name through an exasperated laugh. "Zip me up, not down."

But he's got his mouth at your shoulder, squeezing your hip. "You're so soft," he mumbles. "This dress is beautiful."

"Made the right choice," you hum, digging your fingers into his locks when he hits a sweet spot at your throat. "Javi, baby, we'll be late."

"We can go anywhere we want, any time we want." His hand slithers around the waist and presses on your belly, pulling you against him. "We're never late. Everyone else is early."

Your head falls back against his shoulder when he slides the baby blue dress (he bought it for you because it matched one of his best suits) down your body and leaves you back at square one. "Your logic"—you swallow a groan when his fingers tease your nipples—"is fallible."

"Big words," he muses, "my little reporter. Want to make you forget them all."

"My hair will be all messy because you can't keep it in your—ah!" You gasp when his fingers find your clit. You shudder and collapse against the countertop, bracing your hands there to keep yourself from face-planting. "Mmm," you keen, arching your back against him. You can see one another in the mirror, and your eyes are half-closed. His are enraptured with the way you grind against his fingers. "Fuck… oh, fuck , Javi.”

Javi reaches down to unbuckle his belt, but you're spinning around and dropping to your knees before he can get his pants down. You look up at him through your lashes, freshly painted with mascara, and watch his mouth drop, one hand clutching the sink. "Let me," you whisper.

" Sí, sí ," he says, nodding eagerly, murmuring over and over. You slide his Cartier belt right out of the loops and drape it around your neck. Next come the button and zipper, then you're dropping his pants low enough to palm him over his boxers. Javi sucks in a breath through his teeth. Your mouth waters at the sight of the hair trailing down to his erection, and you nuzzle your face against him, hands gripping his thick thighs, your tongue slipping out to lick up his length over his underwear. Javi's moan melts you. "I… I…”

"Use your words, baby," you tell him. "They don't have to be big ones."

" Por favor ," he manages. " Por favor, mi cielo ... Please keep going."

You smile up at him. "You want to fuck my mouth, handsome?"

You aren't sure if he even heard you because he's gone silent. But his entire body stiffens, his cock twitches under your cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

"I want you to," you say, squeezing him again. "You want it too, right, sweetheart?" Seemingly unable to speak when you're touching him like this, he nods. "Good boy. You wouldn't deny your girl when she needs to taste you, would you?”

"No, no, no." He's blind with desire, dripping precum, the grey of his boxers darkening. "No, don't want that. Want you to..."

"Words, my love."

"Want to—to fuck your mouth."

Your heart swells for him. "That's it, honey. I'll squeeze your thigh like this if you need me to stop, okay?" Another nod. "I love you, Javi."

" Te amo, te amo ," he whimpers, his hand cradling your head. You're taking him out of his boxers and starting slow, letting your spit fall on his shaft and moving your hand up and down the length of him. He's so keen it makes you ache, but he stops himself from bucking his hips, wanting you to take over. And you do.

You take your time licking at the tip, making him whine with impatience. When you flatten your tongue against the underside of his shaft and lock eyes with him, his are watery. "Relax," you tell him, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. "I'll be good to you. Okay?"

"Always good to me," he manages with a breathy laugh.

You settle your lips around his head and teasingly flick out your tongue along the vein on his shaft. He shudders under your grip. “Shit.”

You hum around him and guide his hand to your hair. Use me , your eyes tell him. He's always reluctant to take you like this, and his eyes glitter with lust-addled hesitance. But slowly, gently, he cradles your head and pushes his hips forward until your nose is nestled in the hair at the base of his cock. He’s warm and heavy on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, relishing his taste, and he groans. “Are you okay?” he manages. You just blink slowly up at him, eyes watering, makeup smearing. Keep going .

He begins a languid rhythm, your throat suctioning around his length as he thrusts his cock down your throat, using your mouth to pleasure himself.

At some point, his eyes shutter closed, his mouth falls open, and he stops treating you like he's afraid to hurt you. He loses himself inside your hot, wet mouth, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you on his dick, your tongue slipping out again to swirl around the head. He makes a strangled noise at the same time you choke on him, spit and mascara and lipstick concocting on your face and throat.

He forgets English in his haze, muttering and cursing in Spanish as his hips get sloppy. He's faltering, his grip ironclad around a mess of your hair, and you only get more eager as he gets closer.

“Tan buena, tan buena, mi amor. Mierda—” He cuts himself off with a high-pitched grunt, slamming his palm down on the vanity top to keep himself from falling over. He comes hard, suddenly, his back pinching up in a hundred twinges of white-hot pleasure. He can only say your name in a cracked whisper as you anchor yourself on his cock and take every drop of his cum down your throat.

He watches it in awe: his cock pumping hot cum inside your mouth, your hands resting on his hips, your throat expanding with every eager swallow. You're wrecked, covered in makeup and sweat and spit and his cum, dribbling down your lips as he pulls out of you. Your tongue darts out and licks it all up.

Panting, he swipes his thumb beneath your eyes. “Made you cry,” he says weakly.

You smile up at him. “Happy tears. Horny tears. Did that feel good, my love?”

“So fucking good, amor.” Javi helps you to your feet and gathers you in his arms. He gently wipes the makeup from your face, even though the sight of your ruined mascara makes his softening cock twitch, back in his pants. “My beautiful woman. Love of my life.”

Your grin widens, your fingers smoothing his damp hair away from his forehead. “You look… really good when you come.”

He knows how that feels.

Javi loves his craft. He loves to write and act and chew on the meat of a really good story. He loves when he gets inspired, scrambling out of the pool despite your pouting and scribbling his ideas down in the notepad he always carries. He likes to write on paper; it’s the undeniable authenticity of a hand, a pen, a once-living tree.

You watch him as he works, resting your chin on your arm as you kick your feet behind you in the water: his brow scrunching in concentration, his lips moving in tandem with the words he puts to paper. He never scratches out an idea, and fuck, you love him, your heart clenching at the way he sees life as something beautiful, something bright and pulsating with possibility.

Javi loves his craft. He doesn’t love all the fucking things he has to attend.

Before he had you, he didn’t know how he made it through so many public events. He’s wearing an eggplant-purple suit, a black dress shirt beneath, his Cartier watch and belt and the cuff links you bought him as an anniversary gift—shaped like two golden guns. You’re securing earrings on your lobes, the pearl teardrops he bought you for that same anniversary.

Your dress is long, black, elegant; it has one long sleeve and leaves your other arm bare, but the long slit up the thigh on the opposite side balances the asymmetry. It’s a masterpiece of tailoring, specially fashioned for you—but that may just be your beauty. It is universal, mutually intelligible among all humans, all species. It is a thing that cannot be misunderstood. He considers it his job to ensure it never is.

You’ve been eyeing him up. It’s impossible not to be drawn to the broad cut of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist underneath that rich purple jacket. His hair is combed back but the curls at the nape of his neck remain. You admire his ass with little subtlety. This man is yours . He's beautiful, strong, tall, and so good. It overwhelms you, and you can't help but meet him in front of the mirror. Your hands find his shoulders as you kiss the patchy spots in his beard. “You're beautiful,” you whisper into his skin.

Javi’s pout is award-winning, his cheek falling onto your shoulder. "Mi amor, I'm going to die tonight."

You caress his jawline and grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger to bring his face up to your level. "You're being dramatic,” you tell him, placing a kiss on his miserable mouth. "It's one night."

He looks into your eyes, dead-serious. "I will surely drop from the heart attack all this stress gives me,” he whines. "Will you resuscitate me?"

You nod. "I used to be a lifeguard."

It's endearing how easily he gets distracted by your mouth. "Mmm."

"Javi," you whisper.

"Mmm?" he says again, still vaguely chasing your lips.

"If you make it through tonight without dropping dead, I'll let you do whatever you want to me in the limo on the way back home."

It does its job of perking him up. He grins at you and reaches for the zipper at the side of your dress. “Javi,” you say. “After the party. Yeah?”

He sighs through his nose, nestling his tense brow into your temple. “After,” he grumbles.

You nudge your head to the side and kiss away the frown. “Help me with my shoes?”

His gaze finds you, wide and wanting, and you turn into a puddle at the sight of him so excited to just touch you. You lift your pair of sleek black-strapped heels—Louboutins, part of a PR package from Javi’s last film—and place them into his hands. He drops to one knee while you sit on the bench at the foot of the bed.

Javi tenderly lifts your ankle, caressing the bone with his thumb, and slides the shoe onto your foot. He's so gentle when he secures the strap, ensuring they don't pinch your skin, asking if it's okay. You're so breathless from his beauty and his tenderness that you can only nod.

He takes his time lifting the goosebumps on your body as he slides the other shoe on. “Beautiful,” he says, sliding your leg up onto his shoulder and pressing a kiss to your knee, your thigh, indulging in the taste of you, the sweetness of your shampoo, your body wash, your softness.

He knows there isn't time to make you come, but he wants to. If he had his way, he'd spread you out and fuck you until you scream, but he doesn't have it his way. He needs to attend this party. He needs to schmooze and network and smile. He'll do it with you on his arm.

“You’ll stay with me?” he says, helping you to your feet. You're on more even ground thanks to the height of your heels.

You grin at him and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “Why would I ever want to let you go?”

To the credit of the hosts, the party is certainly lavish. It's a screenwriters’ (or is it screen actors’?) congregation for The Association of Something Or Another, and Javi holds your hand a little tighter when you pass through the threshold into the swanky hotel ballroom. Photos flash in front of a large balloon arch decorated with gold and black and there’s a long banquet table catered with too-small dishes that couldn’t fill up a fish’s stomach. At least everything looks nice.

“Mr. Gutierrez,” says a voice behind the pair of you. It’s producer-actor-schmoozer John Cayman, followed by a mousy publicist, beaming at Javi and clapping him on the shoulder like they’re old friends. “How’ve you been, man?”

Javi frowns a little at the way Cayman hasn’t even greeted you, but you squeeze his hand. “John,” he says politely, giving him a brief smile. “How is your latest project coming?”

Cayman shrugs in a what-can-you-do way. “Got caught up in pre-production after some budgeting issues. Not my department.”

It’s code for The producer bailed but my pride won’t let me reveal that. His eyes finally slide toward you, a bit dismissive, and he says politely: “How are you…?”

You supply him with your name, courteous as ever, but Javi’s hand is squeezing the circulation out of yours. Cayman certainly isn’t shy about being a dick. Your face and your name are plastered over the Internet all the fucking time, and he has the gall not to recognise you. “Right. Well, you look lovely. Very beautiful.”

“Of course she does,” says Javi, turning his head to kiss your temple. He whispers in your ear: “Eres la cosa más radiante que he visto. Y este tipo es un cabrón (You're the most radiant thing I've ever seen. And this guy is an asshole).”

“Juega bien (Play nice),” you tell him, trying to stifle a giggle.

Javi pouts. “Pero está siendo cruel contigo (But he’s being cruel to you).”

“This night is about you, Javi,” you whisper, your thumb rubbing circles over the tattoo on his hand. “You don’t have to worry about me. Look—he got bored.”

Javi’s eyes look up from you to sweep the room for Cayman, but he’s shoehorning himself into another conversation by the hors d’oeuvres table. You smile brightly and pluck two champagne flutes from a passing server. “To wishing we were somewhere else,” you toast.

Javi clinks his glass against yours. “The beach,” he muses, crowding you and kissing your cheek. “The sun and the sand. Paris. Venice.” You feel his teeth graze your jaw when he grins. “California. My Hollywood beauty, hmm?”

You lift your brows playfully. “I’m your arm candy, baby.”

Javi hums, tugging you close around the waist. “We’re leaving.”

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes.”

“And it's been long enough. One idiot insulting you is two too many.”

“I can take insults, Javi,” you tell him. “I interrogate people for a living.”

“Well, I don't have to take it.” He brings your hand to his lips. “We're going home.”

You just laugh and nod. He’s a little more commanding than usual when he takes the flute from your hand, sets them both down on a table nearby, and guides you toward the limousine. You’ve seen it in the way he used to handle the family business: his posture changes, his broad shoulders squaring, and his brow furrows, his twinkling eyes shrouded in a veil. You realise it was always an act, but sometimes he reminds you that he can be a dangerous man. Arousal coils hot and tight in your core as you practically scramble for the limo.

You both slip inside, and once the driver pulls away from the curb, Javi lifts up your ankle onto his lap and begins to slip the shoe off your foot. The privacy screen is closed, so you're both alone. “Beautiful legs,” mutters Javi, officially in his own world now that he gets to act on your promise from earlier. He slides one shoe off and presses a flurry of kisses to your calves. “Beautiful skin.”

“Javi,” you giggle, offering him your other leg, his big hands working deftly at the straps of your heels. He suddenly wraps his arms around your thighs and jerks you toward him until you're on his lap. You squeal, smacking his chest. “Gonna give me whiplash, cowboy.”

“This beautiful body.” Javi buries his face in your neck, his hands around your waist and his fingers splaying over your back, warming the skin beneath your dress. He loves to inhale your scent: your sweet perfume (you've always worn the same Valentino since he bought it for you as a birthday present—before he'd even gotten you to agree to a date), the slight stick of dewy sweat to your neck as your arousal deepens and your dress begins to suffocate you. You're a goddess and he worships your body like it, his strong nose nudging your jaw aside to give him more access to your throat. He bites playfully, making you gasp.

“So… fucking… beautiful.” He brushes your hair away from your neck so he can kiss it properly, tasting you as much as he wants because you told him he could. You let yourself melt into his touch, your tits squished up against his pressed shirt, tilting your head up to give him more of you. A moan slips from his mouth as he plunders your sweetness.

He knows precisely every region of your body that will turn you into a puddle of wax. You're warm and sticky and malleable in his arms. Javi’s hand slides up to the back of your head and pulls you down to slot his mouth over yours. It's a slow but deep kiss; he devours you, his tongue sliding against yours, taking and taking while you try to keep up. You've given him permission to do what he likes, and the night has awakened something in your sweet, gentle boyfriend.

“Javi.”

He grunts at the sound of your whimper. It's bordering on pathetic, your hips wiggling in his lap, chasing his lips when he pulls away to look at you. You're both panting, and he grins, that twinkle back in his eye as he takes in your flushed chest, your swollen lips.

“I want to take off your dress,” he says, toying with the zipper at the back of your gown. “And I want you to sit on my cock.”

You can hardly breathe, but your fingers tangle in his hair to ground you as you nod vigorously. His voice is dark and clear and leaves no room for compromise, and it thrills you so terribly that your panties are soaked through by the time he begins to pull down your zipper.

“Please fuck me, Javi.”

“I will, mi amor.” His hands slide slowly up your thighs, reverent in his touch, until he reaches your ass and kneads handfuls of it. You unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants and you're salivating with need when you finally reach into his underwear and wrap your hand around his shaft. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Need to be inside you.”

His hands are needy now. They bunch up your dress around your hips and pull you desperately toward him, your cunt sliding up against his thigh. Javi shuffles down on the bench seat eagerly, letting you sit right on his hips. You jerk him slowly, leaning down to kiss him.

Your hand feels so good around his cock, your scent enveloping him, that Javi can barely keep his mouth against yours. It keeps falling open in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut. “Shit,” he says at last, forehead falling against yours. “Shit. Let me feel you. ¿Por favor?”

“I said you can do whatever you want, Javi,” you tell him, nibbling on his earlobe. “I meant it.”

He shifts suddenly, pressing you up against him with his hand on your back and using his other to guide his cock to your entrance, your panties shoved hastily to the side. Your cunt sucks in the tip, your head falling back and Javi’s hips bucking. It shoves him deeper, making you cry out, and just because he can do whatever he wants to you, his hand slips over your throat and squeezes at your pulse points. He doesn't want to cover your mouth; he likes to hear what he does to you. He wants to make you feel good. And the way your eyes roll toward the back of your skull—

Yes. You definitely feel good.

“That's it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, watching in awe as you take him all the way, the tight, hot seal of your cunt a vise around his cock. “That's my beautiful girl. Mi diamante.”

“Oh, Javi,” you gasp, “you're so big. You feel so good. So deep—ah!”

He loves the way your brows furrow as he grinds up into you. Javi’s breath puffs out with the exertion of not moving as you situate yourself on top of him. You shuck down the top of your dress until it's a mess of fabric at your hips, your tits bare for him to use the way he likes. Javi is balls-deep before he can even form words again. When he does, they're mostly Spanish, and mostly curses.

“Please,” you whine. “I want to ride you, Javi. Let me feel your big cock.”

He will. He’ll let you. Your hips rock back and forth, taking the whole length of his cock with each punch of your thighs down onto his as you begin to quicken your pace.

Javi’s lips part in the shape of your name. It's sloppy in such a confined space but you still manage to make it look graceful: the gentle undulation of your hips as you grind on his cock to make yourself feel good and the flex of your thighs as you lift yourself up and down, making him feel good.

Fuck. He remembers your first night together. Crashing into furniture in his gigantic foyer as you struggled to find your way to the stairs, refusing to part from one another. He nearly toppled over the railing only for you to pull him by his tie and tug him all the way to his bedroom. For good measure, you knocked over another vase on a small table before you made it to the bed.

Javi took control that night. He had chased you for so long—literally—around the globe, persevering past your gentle rejections. Jobs like ours don't facilitate quality time. We're busy people, Javi. We both have needs, and you'll get sick of me.

He used that night to show you how wrong you were. He wanted to show you how devoted he was. He wanted to put all your worries into a mortar and grind them down into fine dust. He wanted to scatter them to the wind atop a mountain. He still doesn't like it when you frown.

Except for when your brow furrows in pleasure, the way it does now. “Jav—” You're cut off when he places a hand on your lower belly and presses his thumb against your clit. “Javi! God, you're so good. You feel so good, baby.”

He's golden with pride and you laugh a little breathlessly at the grin that crawls up his face. He can't help but beam when you tell him how good he is to you, but it's oh-so easy for you to clench around his cock and dissolve that smile into a look of bliss. His head falls back against the seat and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “Eso se siente tan bien.”

“Lo sé,” you laugh softly.

Your pussy leaks onto his cock and dribbles out onto his pants, soaking him with the scent of you. You're both sweating, panting. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and lavishes it with his tongue as he sucks. Your moan is high-pitched and weak, your pace on his cock stuttering. He takes over by grinding deep inside you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. He's so close, but he needs you there first.

You come first in everything.

“Ja—Javi.” Your thighs begin to tremble with the force of your orgasm until you can't even hold yourself up anymore. “I… oh, fuck, I can’t—”

“You can. Hold onto me, amor.” You wind your arms tightly around his neck and he hoists you higher up his hips. With the new position established, Javi begins to fuck you. Hard.

You're so sensitive from your orgasm that you whine into his neck, but he shushes you gently, soothing your cries with his gentle hands at the same time his cocks wrecks you, his thighs pounding relentlessly against your ass.

He's so deep, so fucking thick and heavy inside you, that you can feel the weight of him in your belly. And the rest of him handles you with such care that the contrast twists your head into senseless knots. He's always been like that: able to handle you in just the right ways to banish all thoughts from your head besides him, him, him. He's a little selfish that way.

Javi’s brows draw up in the middle and his cock twitches inside you. “Shit, shit, oh my—”

Light suddenly floods the backseat of the limo and a silhouette eclipses it.

“Señor Gutierrez, we've—oh.”

You yelp, your head jerking to the side so fast that you accidentally smack it against the ceiling of the limo. Javi’s instincts are sharper than yours, rushing to cover your tits and angle your body away from the driver.

He’s still fucking inside you, still spilling his cum inside you, and although the driver is averting his gaze, Javi grits his teeth. “Privacidad,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, sir. So sorry.” The poor man is flushed red, his back to the two of you, but you're still hiding your face in Javi’s neck as he keeps your tits hidden by pressing them up against his chest.

“We’ll be inside shortly,” you tell the driver, kind as ever. “Thank you, Henry.”

The old man scurries dutifully away and you keep your burning face nestled in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck. “That… was so embarrassing.”

Because you and Javi have been caught by many a housekeeper before you had the DO NOT DISTURB sign made, you swallow your humiliation and laugh a little about the ridiculousness of it all.

Javi huffs, cradling the back of your head. “I should fucking fire him. Malo. Knows he's supposed to knock first.”

And because he's getting mad at the thought of someone seeing you in a vulnerable state, you decide to calm his nerves. “He’s old, baby,” you coo, soothing him by pressing kisses to his throat and curling your fingers in his hair. “It’s okay. I’m sure he's seen a woman’s body before.”

“Not yours.” Javi pats your ass gently. “Never yours.”

“Come on, guard dog. Let's go inside.” You clamber off him and hastily pull your panties back on so none of his cum drips down your thighs. “At least we got to come.”

Javi kisses the crown of your head. “Good. That killed my mood.”

“Mi amor!” shouts Javi from the hallway. “They want it! They want my movie!”

Javi comes barreling into the bedroom, waving a thick manuscript around in his hand. You're rarely fazed by his theatrics, but this time, it's special for him. You pause halfway through taking out your earrings and let him scoop you up into his arms, twirling you around and planting kisses all over your face.

You shriek with laughter and try to hold on, but you're both a little dizzy when he stops spinning. Together, you topple into the bed, Javi still seeking your mouth when he lands on top of you. “I’m… so proud… of you,” you tell him between kisses.

He’s so gleeful your chest pinches. “There's so much to think about,” he muses, a small tornado of energy as he pins you to the bed and plants kisses all over your body. It's like he's writing his to-do list on your skin. “I need a director. I need to scout locations. I need an entire fucking crew. I need—”

“Actors,” you say, a bit breathless in your attempt to catch up to his speed. “You need actors, baby.”

“Yes!” He drops his forehead to your sternum, right between your tits. “I need actors. I need the most talented, beautiful star quality this world has ever seen.”

You thread your fingers through his soft, long hair. “And you need a Diamond.”

Javi grins up at you. “My sparkling Diamond. That will be a difficult casting choice, my love,” he says, tracing your hip bone with his thumb. “Diamond is a… uniquely beautiful woman. She shines brighter than every other character. She is the heart of my movie. The melody.”

“What sort of lucky woman will get that role, hmm?” You revel in the hungry spark in his eyes. His excitement is infectious. “That’s a lot to measure up to.”

“I know.” Javi crawls up your body until he can put his mouth on yours once more. “I wrote her after you.”

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x you #javi g fanfiction #tuwomt

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pearlzier · 28 days

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js read niecesitting and it was the cutest thing ever omfg but like i was thinking maybe u could write something similar but vice versa ? like when r introduces matt to her niece and matt sees how reader is js so protective and motherly over her, he’s like oh my god i’m in love

a/n ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ got a lil carried away perhaps + daily sturniolo triplets taglist plug as per usual ۫ .

you really fucking wanted to go to the party, but here you were, with your niece. it's not like you didn't want to take care of her, no, but you did want to have a social life. it was one night but.. you and matt were gonna go out and have fun. pushing these thoughts away, you watched as the little girl sat beside you at the kitchen island mixed up her little concoction of makeup from her baby makeup set.

“wait, come closer,” rue taps your hand with her chubby fingers, trying to drag you closer. you shuffle your body near her, having put down your phone before letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“okay, we have a makeup guru here,” she pats your cheek for you to shut your eyes so she can apply the eyeshadow. her big, cute eyes light up when she sees her masterpiece come to formation. a flurry of giggles slip past her lips and she claps her hands excitedly. there's a childlike, mysterious wonder filling her brown eyes, which soon turns to curiosity when she hears the sound of the door bell.

“i'll get it, auntie!” rue practically runs to the door, despite the fact that maybe the adult should go get it. you're typing on your phone, snorting out a laugh at something stupid you'd read when you hear rue make a little scared sound, and you quickly rise from where you are to check out what's happening at the door.

“rue rue, hey, who's—” your hands slide over to hold onto rue's shoulders as your brow furrows, but your expression softens almost instantly when you realise it's matt. rue clings to your leg as you hold her, and you watch as matt eyes the two of you with total confusion. you can almost laugh at his expression.

“am—am i interrupting?” his blue eyes flicker down to rue's, watching the confused expression on her face.

“auntie? who's that?” she asks, tugging on your oversized shirt. matt tilts his head, probably thinking the exact same thing as the child.

“hi, matt,” you say gently, smiling softly. guiding the child to the side gently, you tilt your head for him to come in, which confuses the little girl. “rue, meet matt, matt, meet rue,” they just stare at each other, kind of like two animals trying to defend their territory. in which their territory is you. rue notices how nice you are to matt, and matt notices how protective you are of her.

“hey, kid,” matt runs a hand through his hair, shutting the door behind him and locking it with the key on the door before he follows beside you a little tentatively.

“uhm..” she seems nervous to say high, to which you gently nudge her to do so, but not forcing her to. “hi, matt,” she says finally, clinging to your side quite a bit. “are you my auntie's friend?”

oh, so you're her aunt, matt thinks to himself. so she's your niece. that makes a lot more sense to him, and he relaxes a bit. he didn't know what he was thinking, but he's glad to know who she is to you. and why you're so protective of the little girl. it makes a little warmth grow in his stomach, which he can't quite put his finger on.

“uh, yeah, yeah,” he nods, arms crossed across his chest as you guys made it to the kitchen where you'd been sat up prior. your eyes flicker to his and an apologetic glint shimmers in them as you gesture for him to sit with you guys. “yeah, your auntie’s friend.”

“mhm,” you glance at him as he sits beside you and rue seems to be deciding something, her little fingers drumming against the table before she spoke up, tone gentle. she looks to you, and attempts to whisper, but it comes out as a quiet shout more than anything.

“do you think he wants his makeup done too, auntie?” she tries to cover her mouth with her hand, and this makes matt smile. matt smiles even more at the way you indulge rue, by doing the same in covering your mouth and whispering just as loud—

“i think so. should we ask?” the way you play with her makes his heart ache. he doesn't know what the feeling is, doesn't know whether he wants to know. but he doesn't hate it. doesn't mind it. might even like it.

“you ask, he's your friend, auntie,” rue decides, glancing at matt in a way she thinks is sneaky, but she just full on stares at him, before looking back at you.

“matt?” he pretends he was checking his phone, just to indulge the two of you in the same way you'd done for rue.

“hm? yeah?” matt leans against the counter, his expression a feigned innocence and obliviousness.

“you think, the lovely rue here, could do your makeup?” you bite back a soft smile as your gaze meets his and especially as matt pretends to not really know whether she could. he leans back, stretching, with a shrug.

“hmmmm, i dunno..”

“please! you'll look so fab,” rue promises, holding up her little pinky to which matt finds himself interlocking his with hers in a pinky promise as he sighs dramatically. a laugh slips past your lips, and soon, you find yourself watching your boyfriend get his makeup done by your niece.

matt is the perfect client, staying perfectly still for rue as she does his blush, his eyeshadow, etectera. you watch in amusement, but also fondness. “are we all done?” he asks after a moment, his eyes still shut. he probably looks ridiculous, he knows that, but he wants to see the happiness on both of your faces.

“mmmh, auntie, what d'you think?” matt opens his eyes and allows both you and rue to see the new look. you hum, letting the little girl lean against your shoulder are the two of you inspect him. the way you treat rue makes him want to cry, tears of literal joy. he bites his bottom lip, but releases it as soon as he senses rue about to protest so he doesn't mess up his beautiful red lipstick.

“he looks perfect, honey,” you smile softly, and rue claps her hands excitedly. you too have your makeup done, and rue had somehow managed to grasp a basic form of colour theory and made your makeup match. as your niece bounds off to grab a mirror so you two can see your makeup, both you and matt make eye contact and burst out laughing instantly. “you do look perfect!”

“y’look even better, sweetheart,” he crosses his arms once more and leans against the table. he admires you silently, for a moment, before he speaks up, “you're good with her.”

“huh?” your brow furrows, and matt notices, so he continues, having now reached out to hold your hand gently.

“with rue. you treat her like your own kid, y'know?” his thumb traces a heart on your palm before he lets go, feeling a little too sappy for a simple moment like this. however, you nod, leaning against the table too as your head tilts to the side a little.

“that kid's my life,” you admit as you look up at him, squeezing his hand for a moment after you'd taken it back into yours. a soft smile plays on your lips, and you continue, “i adore her.”

“yeah?” it's like matt's taking a mental note of this. as he watches you, he nods. he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on your skin. god, he loves you. you are quite literally, unequivocally, perfect. and that realisation slowly dawns upon him as he searches your gaze for a second before he glances back over at rue's bounding footsteps with a little mirror in her hands.

“okay, line up!” she gestures the two of you over, and you both shuffle over with your fingers intertwined. rue has clearly very much noticed something as she flickers her eyes over the two of you. first of all, the interlaced fingers make her brows raise. then the red kiss mark on your cheek which is suspiciously similar to the tone of red on matt's lips.

you and matt glance at eachother for a moment, stifiling your laughter before you pose with eachother in the mirror, which then gives rue an idea. “auntie, can i use your phone?”

“go ahead, babe,” you smile, pressed against matt's side. rue hops up onto the chair to grab your phone, fiddling with it before she hands you it so you can turn it on. unlocking it, you hand it back to the girl so she can take the photos she wants to of you two.

“say… cheese!” she beams, smiling happily as she snaps a few photos of the two of you. she quickly turns and shows them to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment as you're looking at the photos. a glimmer of pure adoration gleams in his eyes and he glances at rue for a moment, who's looking back at him with a look that's way too knowing for a little girl her age.

“thank you for the makeup, kid,” matt gives her a smile, to which rue beams and nods, giggling.

“anytime!” she shrugs, as if it's nothing, glancing back at you. you look back up at her and you let out a little hum under your breath when you see the time.

“i think it's someone's bed time,” rue whines, and she looks at matt as if he's gonna agree, but he shrugs his shoulders with a little laugh.

“your aunt's right, kid, c'mon,” she pouts, but she hands the phone back over as she glances dramatically at the stairs. her eyes roll and she glances back at you once more.

“can you get my bedtime story ready?”

“you got it, missy, stay right here you two,” you agree to do your niece's bidding, and you head on upstairs to sort out her pajamas and stuff, which leaves matt and rue together. a comfortable silence settles over the two of them.

“so when are you getting married?”

“i don't.. we aren't—what? who.. hey, woah, no—what colour ring would she like?”

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @junnniiieee07 , @st7rnioioss , @mimi-luvzyu , @freshloveee , @onlynextdoor ۫ .

#✿ ꒰ drabbles ) ₊˚੭ #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo drabble #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #girl dad matt

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petit-etoile · 5 months

Note

Astarion is a taco bell worker who has not had a single day off in 2 years because his manager can't be assed to teach anyone else how to close. He longs to one day see the sun again and be free of these twisted and evil taco nights

in motion, in 3D

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 7,156 content warnings: please do not have sex in parking lots !! but anyway, all characters are in university & tacobellstarion works to pay for his law books, i use a lot of pet names from both spawn & ascended astarion, but he's not a vampire in this universe so his morality is mostly in tact, nearly 7k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - college/university, porn what plot/porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, semi-public s.ex, b.lowjobs, riding, c.reampie, shameless smut, taco bell, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary: Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform.

College is already hard enough. Add in a job on the side that requires you to stay up long before even the partiest of party kids have gone to sleep, and life might start to seem even bleaker. Astarion may not have gone out of state for his college adventures, but it was still hard. The expense of the university, the expense of staying on campus, and the expense of wanting to afford textbooks unfortunately resulted in this.

He takes a long, exhausted look around the cluttered Taco Bell and considers sobbing on the floor. Despite all the work put in to make the building seem pristine, the shop always seems as though it’s been through some soft of galactic turbulence by the time the night has ended. The last thing Astarion wants to see is a catty text from the day shift saying things were still dirty. He might snap his phone if he sees Enver Gortash (saved in his phone as DO NOT ANSWER!!!) texting him at a bright and early seven in the morning.

Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform. He hates it — He loathes it more than anything else, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from sinking further into nearing-graduation depression. This is the only way he stays sane.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and taps in his password, a cute little anniversary date, and checks his text messages before anyone can rat him out to the team manager in the back. There’s a Snapchat that he can’t check and a few text messages, and he presses on them so desperately he thinks he might be going a little insane. It’s only been a few hours and yet…

LOML: i'm coming to get u!!

Astarion smiles so wide he thinks his face might crack. It makes him giggle, swing his feet, twirl his hair around his finger. He feels very baby girl, as Karlach liked to put it. He types a quick ‘MY HERO’ before sliding his phone back in his pocket. That one text is all he needed to hold on for the last thirty minutes of work.

‘Alright!’ Wyll calls from the back. He looks up from his new shiny Apple watch. ‘Last customer is out, so you know what that means. Closing time. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Closing time is somehow the best part of Astarion’s day and the worst. The best, because he knows who will be waiting for him outside to pick him up as soon as everything is neat and tidied inside. The worst, because someone has to clean the bathrooms and he refuses to do it. There’s a bleakness, a despair to the Taco Bell bathrooms. It truly takes the world’s strongest to venture forth and clean them, and Astarion’s recently had a manicure. He scours the room critically before his sight lands on his second favorite co-worker ever!

‘Jenevelle,’ he purrs, turning to look at his younger co-worker. ‘It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.’

‘It isn’t,’ she says snootily, pushing an Airpod into her ear to drown him out. ‘I did it yesterday. The men’s room is a crime against humanity.’

Astarion frowns. ‘I’m older. You do it. I refuse.’

'Just because you're like, seventy-something and still working at Taco Bell doesn't mean that's what the rest of us want to do,' Jenevelle says, blowing an obnoxiously large bubble with her gum. She slides off the counter and rolls her eyes. 'You're cringe.'

'Bold,' Astarion says, scandalized at only a young twenty-four years of age, 'considering that's coming from someone who put down the name Shadowheart on her application form and dresses like Olivia Rodrigo. Now, go clean the ladies' bathrooms before I feel inclined to point out you have nasolabial folds at eighteen.'

Shadowheart gasps in mock horror, putting a hand to her mouth. She rushes to get the cleaning supplies and does as she was told, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Astarion is almost certain he’s going to wake up to a text from Gale laughing about how the story is being shared on a small indie podcast. It’s enough to send shivers down Astarion’s spine, but not enough to offer to swap places with Shadowheart. He goes back to petulantly sorting the hot sauce packets.

He pockets one mocking saying ‘I’m Your Main Squeeze!’ and shoves the containers back from where they came from. It’s easy closing, he tells himself. If closing were any easier, the morning shift wouldn’t complain so much. It’s what he has to tell himself as he wipes down the counter.

It’s hard to hold onto hope during these tough taco hours. Astarion just checked his phone, but if he were to check it again, he’s almost certain not even a minute would have passed. No matter how hard he scrubs the counter, everything smells like refried beans. His hair smells like refried beans. His shirt smells like refried beans. His skin must smell like refried beans. It’s a nightmare.

‘Dude, I cannot wait to get out of here,’ Wyll complains, coming to lean on the counter. He begins pretending to sort packets too. ‘Do you have any plans, Astarion?’

‘Ravengard,’ Astarion says patiently, ‘it is three in the morning. My plan is to sleep.’

‘Serious about that beauty sleep?’

‘Dead serious.’

Wyll hums. ‘The rest of us were going to go out for a drink. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. You know, to let off steam.’

Astarion considers it the same way one considers eating leftovers. He thinks about it then thinks about the sage old rule: There is nothing open after three in the morning besides jail cells and iHop. He decides against it. Doesn’t want to risk the price of bail after a night of drinking.

Besides, there’s someone coming to pick him up anyway. The thought of you crosses his mind and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy about it. Between all the work from school and the stress of trying to make Burrito Supremes, you make going through the hardship of closing every single night worth it.

He’s supposed to be doing something, but Astarion can’t remember what it was that Wyll told him needed extra attention at the beginning of his shift or what closing a store entails anymore. He takes out his phone one more time and looks at his screen so he can memorize his screensaver which is a cute photo of you asleep in his shirt and drooling.

‘Ugh, you’re so happy it’s gross,’ Wyll says, wrinkling his nose.

‘Oh please,’ Astarion snorts. ‘As if you and Lae’zel aren’t sickening.’

If Astarion is being completely honest, almost all couples are. Somehow, the two of you don’t get to avoid that connotation. He remembers when you first started dating. You celebrated one week of dating, then two, then every month, then every other month just because it delighted you to do so. Astarion’s reputation is that he’s a prickly, unkind asshole which isn’t entirely too far from the truth, but the difference is that you are you, and you deserve all the nice things he can give.

But before anyone can complain about Astarion being sappy again, he slides his phone into his pocket and goes about his closing to-do list. He fusses over Karlach’s dishes. After working at a fast food restaurant, he’s pretty sure he’ll never eat at one again — but what the public doesn’t know what hurt them. They’re clean enough to anyone terribly concerned about it.

Isobel is hastily cleaning the floors. She and Aylin will never beat the grossest couple allegations, but Astarion thinks she’s the cutest thing in the world with her big eyes and fluffy eyelashes and perfectly smudged eyeliner. Once, he found Isobel and Shadowheart in the bathroom comparing shopping bags at Ulta instead of working the drive through. Astarion never told, but they owed him favors for two weeks in a row. Those were the best two weeks of his life.

Astarion does, however, fuss over the cleanliness of the lobby. The store itself feels permanently smudged in grease and smells about as nice as a locker room, but he refuses to be in the kind of establishment that refuses to clean the soda dispenser nozzles. He watches Wyll clean them then cleans them again himself.

And lastly, very lastly, Astarion gathers all the mops and brooms and rags and towels and puts them back from whence they came. Isobel finishes checking the filters to make sure they’re spotless about the same time Shadowheart comes miserably from the bathrooms with a look of utter despair on her features. He should probably feel bad, but he’s just thankful he didn’t have to do it himself. He wonders if he can somehow convince Wyll to do them tomorrow… but that’s a thought for another day, and Astarion only has one thing on his mind now that the store is closed.

You.

Thank the gods, it’s you. You’re a blessing in disguise if you’ll ever admit it. You willingly wake up in the middle of the night to come pick up Astarion, and you’ve never complained about it despite it being well beyond your bedtime. It’s embarrassing to admit that it’s something the both of you look forward to. A little private time away from dorm roommates and their friends who all like to crowd into impossibly tiny rooms because they haven’t spent enough time with each other throughout the day somehow.

The thought of you puts a pep in Astarion’s step. He checks his phone one last time to read your latest text message and feels like his heart is about to soar out of his throat. He bounces from foot to foot impatiently while waiting at the door for Wyll to come see everyone out, but as soon as that door opens, he’s darting across the parking lot to your familiar car. He never gets in a hurry for anything, but it’s different tonight.

You watch the other couples scurry to their own vehicles for their own safety. Shadowheart rides with Karlach and they’ll hang out at Rolan and Lia’s until Viconia DeVir spam texts her enough that she comes home. Wyll races to Lae’zel’s slick sports car, and seeing them make it across the parking lot is all you really care about. You turn your devout attention back to Astarion.

One might be wondering what you’ve been up to tonight, but it’s an easy answer. You were studying for your many quizzes and tests which infuriate you to no end, because college is hard and Astarion can’t help you study. Not that he would be that helpful. Luckily, Gale and Halsin are astute professors who actually don’t mind helping students — and they both have a you shaped soft spot that makes it impeccably easy for you to convince them to tutor you. They helped you go over your coursework and somehow managed to play footsie with one another under the table at the same time, although Gale kept bumping into you by accident and Halsin kept laughing. Either way, you made it through two hours of intense studying in just enough time to pick up Astarion from work.

You almost wish he had helped you study instead, but… He’s smart, coy, a future lawmaker in the making, but Astarion is gorgeous. His talents are wasted on learning laws and balancing books. To say that you wouldn’t get anything done if Astarion helped you study is an understatement. One might think you innocent enough with a cute picture of you and Astarion as your lock screen, but opening up your phone shows one of your most recent endeavors. A risque photograph of Astarion’s cum on your stomach in black-and–white to make it less scandalous, of course.

He should be a model styled in the latest Gucci and coveted by all, but you’re also increasingly biased. You’re wearing a baggy band sweater and sweatpants when he comes around the corner of the restaurant, and he’s so incredibly cute in his stupid Taco Bell uniform that you can’t help but wiggle in your seat. You unlock the door as he comes bolting to the passenger side, and he climbs in and meets you halfway for a kiss.

‘You smell like tomatoes,’ you laugh.

‘Oh, I suppose I’ll walk home then,’ he snorts.

Astarion always comes home smelling of Crunchwrap Supremes and Baja Blasts. Underneath the smell of grated cheese and refried beans and offensive-to-the-nose lemon, he smells like his personalized cologne too. You sniff him unapologetically and try to not feel giddy as he giggle-snorts his way back into the passenger seat.

You watch as he flings his hat into your backseat and begins ruffling his hair back into the usual coiled, curly hairstyle he’s usually sporting. You watch, with a quiet smile, and fight the yawn that’s been plaguing you since you set out to study anatomy around midnight.

It would be downright cringe to admit you want to study his anatomy since he smells like Taco Bell, but the uniform looks so damn good on him. It’s dorky in a way that makes your heart race. When he stretches, his shirt untucks a little and a peek of his belly shines through. That makes what you’re feeling ten times worse.

Maybe it says more about you than it does Astarion, but he would be attractive even if he was wearing a paper bag. You’ve heard the way the other students gossip about him. They like his long legs or his lean neck, or his loud personality. He’s a self-proclaimed short king with a wicked smile and a dangerous sense of humor. That’s why, no matter what he’s wearing or what he’s been doing, the sight of him makes your heart seize into your throat. You want him. You want him bad enough that you glance around the parking lot to make sure everyone is gone.

‘Was work difficult tonight?’ you ask.

‘The customers,’ Astarion groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Why do thirty seven high schoolers come into Taco Bell before close to order everything off the menu? It takes forever! And they’re so weird, shoving paper from their straws into their Baja Blasts and filling it with salt and pepper and hot sauce then daring their friends to drink it. Weird! Weirdos!’

‘What if I said I was hungry?’ you ask slyly.

‘Don’t even play,’ he growls. ‘I’m tired and — Oh my gods, you’ll never guess the drama from today.’

Astarion sets off on a long tangent about work related drama. His boss got into an argument with their boss and now everyone else is in trouble because someone who works the morning shift lost a set of keys. It’s nothing you’re particularly interested in, but it’s nice to hear Astarion talk to you. You adjust the radio to be quieter and turn the air up to be warmer. You’re so terrifyingly cozy you’re bound to fall asleep, but that’s okay. You lean back against your seat and close your eyes too.

‘That sounds like a mess.’

‘Aren’t you glad you don’t work?’

‘Beyond glad,’ you say.

Astarion hums. ‘How did studying go? Did you memorize anything interesting today?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘But, well, there was something I wanted your help with…’

You look across the console to watch him. He doesn’t seem as sleepy as you are. He offers you his hand and you take it just to hold it, fighting a shy smile as you do so. You give him a few more minutes to unwind after his shift before reaching for your keys in the ignition.

Astarion reaches for your hand. His fingertips slide across your upper arm to your fingers, wrapping around you to prevent you from starting the car. You swallow thickly. It’s almost like he read your —

‘You look absolutely wrecked, my dear,’ Astarion says. ‘Switch sides with me. I’ll drive us home while you doze.’

It’s a tempting offer. Being driven home. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s driving you somewhat crazy, you think, because Astarion has never looked more handsome than he does now in the passenger seat, hair tousled and uniform lopsided, and a smile on his face. Your cheeks heat up.

Oh, it’s definitely the sleep deprivation. Part of you wants to simply wait until you’ve made it home to do anything wild. But Astarion keeps looking at you, appraising you with gentle curiosity. He is unbelievably proud of you and how hard you’re working, and that appreciation is doing wonders to the thoughts inside your head. Your palms start to sweat.

You do a quick look around the parking lot one more time. It’s entirely empty now, not a single car in sight. No Lae’zel or Karlach or Wyll or anyone who would interrupt. The lone overhead light keeps blinking on and off. If you were truly concerned about your situation, you would think that it’s something out of a horror movie. Those aren’t the thoughts going on in your head. What you’re really thinking is so gross it should be humiliating. Astarion’s hand is warm on your hand, and his belly is still showing underneath his shirt that’s ridden up, and he’s tilting his chin because he’s noticed you’ve gone unusually still.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ you say in a small voice. ‘And — I’m not hungry either, not really.’

‘Oh?’ he hums. ‘What do you want to do instead?’

Ah. There it is. Your chance.

You pull your hand from his and place it on his knee, thumb pressing against the side of his thigh. Astarion’s eyes glimmer dangerously. He’s caught onto your mood. He knows exactly what you want without you even saying it.

He reclines your seat and stretches even more in your chair, his legs splayed out in front of him lazily. He’s lithe and taut, hands gripping the headrest for no other reason than he knows it makes him look gorgeous. He raises his chin like a challenge. You slide your hand up his leg and squeeze his muscle. Your mouth has gone dry, but that’ll be changed soon. You nibble the inside of your lip and pray to the gods to give you bravery.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion accuses.

‘It was the textbook,’ you say defensively. ‘I studied for so long, and now my mind has wandered.’

He tsks at you in disappointment. ‘The Taco Bell parking lot of all places.’

‘Shut up.’

He laughs, nice and low and dangerous, and presses his hand flush against his belly. He pulls his shirt up a little higher and you fight desperately to keep your eyes on his face.

‘Shut up?’ he mocks. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘I’ll show you,’ you say brazenly, ‘what I can do.’

It’s abysmal, the lust that overtakes you. You lean over the console and watch as he raises his shirt so that you can see the smooth plane of his abdomen. He’s lithe, sleek, refined. Even in his silly little uniform, you can’t help but think about how amazing Astarion looks — and he knows that’s what is racing through your mind, because he indulges in the attention that you’re granting him. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself against the console while the other falls against his thigh for support, and kiss gently across his belly. From one side of his waist to the other, one hip bone to the other, until you fuss enough that Astarion helps slide his work pants down his hips to his thighs.

The ridiculousness of the setting is forgotten. You lavish Astarion’s cock with attention, the tip of your tongue tracing over the svelte shape, until he’s gently lacing his fingers in your hair to help guide you along. But you know his body almost as well as you know your own. You take the tip of Astarion’s cock into your mouth and kiss it. You graze your teeth carefully over the skin and feel his leg tense in anticipation, and slowly, you swallow it inch by inch.

His cock jerks in your mouth, growing and hardening beneath your careful ministrations. After being together for so long, you know what he likes. He likes slow and languid strokes. He likes when you hum and sometimes when you try to suck him as far down as you can, but you also know that he likes the occasional graze of your teeth, and you’ve barely touched him when he moans softly under his breath as if it’s humiliating to him how needy he is for you as well.

It isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. The gear shift is rigging uncomfortably into your ribs, and the sound of your leather seats sliding against your skin is an unwanted addition, but you’re mesmerized by the way Astarion tastes on your tongue.

Even after a long shift, he still smells immaculate. Your laundry soap overpowers almost everything else, and his satiny tip is salty with precum, but you’ve always enjoyed that taste more than anything else. You mouth gently against the length of him, kissing and sucking and tracing patterns against his cock with your tongue. The touch causes his hand to tighten in your hair, not enough that it hurts, but enough that you’re reminded of him.

It’s comforting, the feeling of his hand in your hair as he guides you up and down his length. It reminds you of less busy days when there’s no studying and no work shifts to be had. In the summer, you often spend your days stretched out across Astarion’s bed while he reads or writes, and you have more than enough sex to pass the times.

It’s far less organized here, but you take your time swallowing around his cock, sliding him as far down as you can into the back of your throat until Astarion is making little, wild noises. He’s trying to keep quiet, and you do your best to peek at him from the angle you’re at. He might as well be a work of art with how he looks. His eyebrows are taut, and he’s biting his bottom lip so ferociously you think you ought to be concerned. Astarion’s eyes soften when he notices you’re watching, and that’s more than what you need to sit up and slide your sweatshirt off over your head. It’s peak romanticism to fuck nasty in the empty Taco Bell parking lot.

You lean forward and take Astarion’s cock into your mouth again with intent. It’s not the most comfortable angle to suck him off at, but you’re determined to keep his eyes on you even if it means you’ll have the world's sorest neck in the morning. Because you’re watching, Astarion makes an effort to watch you as well. He fights against the fluttering of his eyelashes, determined to see you until the very end.

His skin is soft and hot against your tongue, and you focus on breathing through your nose and fight against your own budding arousal. You want to feast on him, to give him something to enjoy since it was your idea to do something like this in your car. You pay close attention to the soft tip of his cock as you suckle it, pressing little licks against the underside of his head, moaning softly even though your elbows are beginning to ache from the angle. You would bring him to completion like this if he would let you, but you can tell by the way his eyes seem to burn that he has other plans.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion repeats, laughing low in the back of his throat.

He lifts you by the chin and kisses you, unfazed by the spit and the drool and the slightly salty taste that sits on the tip of your tongue. If Astarion wasn’t into it, he would let you know. But if you’re insatiable, then he’s equally as deranged. He guides you over the console and into his lap, pulling and tugging at your sweatpants and underwear until they’re around your ankles.

You do try to keep some sense of decency. You push your sweatshirt in a bundle against the front window like that’ll do anything to hide the scene, and he leans his seat as far back as he possibly can without straining too much. Now is not the time for romance, you decide. You’re used to begging Astarion to fuck you, to batting your eyelashes and playing up how shy you are about your wants and needs, but there’s no time for that now at three in the morning. You rut against him, holding his hands against your hips.

It goes without saying that the lewdness of the situation does cause your cheeks to flush. You hide your face into Astarion’s neck and try to pray away the shame. But you aren’t ashamed of your lust, you aren’t ashamed of your desire — Your only concern is the embarrassment of how close to Astarion you want to be, never mind the faint perfume of the Fiesta Veggie Burrito that clings to his skin.

You worm your way into his lap fully, feeling how hard his cock is between your legs, and grind against the thickness of it. He guides your movement ever so carefully, murmuring sweet things into your hair that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else. You’re amazing, don’t hide yourself from me, let us enjoy this together, and all other lyrics that Astarion is proud of. Finally, you reach between your thighs and take his cock into your hands, guiding it inside of you. You don’t have time to tease him, to take your time lowering yourself against his hips until he’s gripping your hips so hard you might bruise. You sink down onto him as quickly as you can, and gasp once you’re fully seated.

Gods, you’ll never get used to the feeling of him inside. He’s so thick and long that you feel impossibly full, that any movement you make will make you cum right then and there. Your hands always shake when you’ve taken him all the way to the hilt, and you bite your bottom lip to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t just about you and how easy it is to make your core burst with pleasure. This is about Astarion too. You want to thank him for all his hard work, to praise him even though he hates it, and you smile. Astarion smiles too. His eyes always get so soft when he looks at you… He’s never looked happier than he has when he looks at you.

Astarion’s hands rub soothingly up and down your spine. The touch is encouraging, is relaxing, and distracting. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't distract you from the way he looks up at you adoringly, almost as if he’s ever seen anything like it before. You relish in the heavy weight of his gaze, tilting your chin so that he can admire everything, and he does. Astarion watches you like someone would admire art at a gallery. He follows every line of your body that he can see, the curve of your neck, the fragility of your cheekbones, and runs his hands against your skin as though it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. It makes you feel special.

And of course, you are special. You were Astarion’s first after a string of countless conquests.

Astarion rubs his hands up against your sides, clasping his fingers taut around your waist so that he can guide you along the length of his cock. It’s all so simple. Astarion likes touching you in whatever way he can manage, especially after hours apart. You spend most of your time familiarizing yourself with the warmth of his hands as he traces his fingers against your spine, or pets through your hair, or massages any tense muscles that might be frustrating you.

He’s even more handsy during sex. You haven’t even moved yet, and he’s tugging at you, biting his lip as if that’ll keep him from trembling. Astarion has always been sensitive, but the recklessness of the situation seems to have riled him up. He paws at your hips. He’s desperate, intent, for some sort of sensation and you’re equally as needy, an overwhelming fullness causing you to shift your weight one more time so that you can balance on either side of his thighs without too much discomfort in a cramped space. You swallow, and slowly, pull yourself off his cock until you’re painfully empty again.

Astarion pushes his hands up beneath your undershirt. You stole it from his side of the bed before you came, somewhat desperate to be wrapped up in his scent. He presses his cheek against yours, and you kiss him — biting the swell of his lower lip and lapping at his tongue when he hums in response. He parts his lips for you and you kiss him messily, turned on by the way he arches at your intuitiveness.

It’s only then that you start really grinding against his lap, pushing his cock back against your core and rising off of it again, bouncing in his lap as he encourages you to do so. Astarion smiles against your teeth and digs his fingers into the curve of your ass. He pulls against his chest and further into his lap, filling you so full of his cock and encouraging you to rut against his hips so that the feel of it is the only thing you can think of.

Astarion is everywhere.

In your thoughts, in your mouth, in your body and mind.

‘Impatient,’ you whisper to him, trying to still your hips but even the thought of him sitting there while you take your pleasure is enough to send tingles down to your toes.

‘As if I’ll ever have enough of you,’ he murmurs in response. He tilts his chin back and offers you his throat. You bite the tender space beneath his jaw and suckle the skin, tasting a bruise blossom beneath your tongue. ‘O — Oh, that’s it.’

Astarion practically purrs as you leave your mark against his skin. You focus on that, claiming his neck right above the collar of his work shirt so that everyone will know the truth. Astarion Ancunín is yours.

‘Like that,’ he whispers soothingly.

Astarion shows his neediness like this, moaning faintly as you turn your attention to making another hickey. While you do that, he helps you grind and ride his cock, his fingers tucked neatly in the junction where your ass meets your thighs. He pulls you up and down his length without any strain, and it thrills you so much that your toes curl and you try to squeeze your thighs together. You whine against his throat.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t play fair,’ Astarion warns you.

He uses all of the strength you forget he has to bounce you in his lap. The pleasure is so intense it distracts you from your artwork, and you cry against his collarbone and cling to him. His cock causes you to feel empty and full — like you’ll never get enough of what he has to offer you.

And, well, any thoughts of playing fair after that have gone out the window along with your shame. The front seat of your car is cramped and tight, but you’re not really thinking about comfort as you chase that heat between your legs for something greater. Astarion does most of the work for you between the way he talks nasty and fucks even nastier, unable to keep his hands to himself for even a few seconds.

If his hands aren’t cradling your ass, then they’re beneath your thighs and if they aren’t there, it’s because he wants to torment you further by fucking into you hard by holding onto your hips as hard as his trembling hands will allow him.

Everything feels way too tight. The walls of your car seem to be caving in, and your clothes are suddenly clinging to you in a way that’s bothersome. You want to be closer to Astarion, to have fully melded your bodies together — and you curse the setting because if you had just been patient, you’d be halfway home to a comfortable bed.

‘You’re naughty,’ Astarion whispers, and it does something for you. ‘Did you miss me — Oh fuck, that’s good.’

You bite his neck to keep him from talking. If Astarion talks, you’re going to lose whatever decorum you have left. You wrap your arms around his neck and whine softly in his ear, nuzzling against his warm skin.

‘I missed you,’ you whisper against his neck.

‘I know you did,’ he murmurs, stroking your hip. ‘I can — Mm, I can tell how badly you missed me. Look at how well you’re riding my cock.’

‘Astarion — ’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ Astarion whispers fiercely. ‘I could listen to it all night and day. Say it again for me, pet. I’ll make you say my name.’

Heat causes your cheeks to flush. You’ll never get used to the casual way he says the raunchiest things, and yet, you can’t help but shiver against his chest at the observation. You wouldn’t have said that you were doing well at it. The roof is short, your legs are cramping, but somehow, that makes the feeling even better. There isn’t much room for you to go, and for that you’re grateful. It means Astarion can’t tease you endlessly with the length of his cock. Every move you make has to be short, frantic, calculated, and the tip of Astarion’s cock is pressed so deeply against your core that you can barely stand it.

‘Oh, it’s so much,’ you gasp.

‘Yeah?’ he muses. ‘You were made for me. You were made to take my cock. You’ll take it for me, you’ll cum for me.’

He uses his knowledge of all your favorite tricks against you. You cannot escape his grasp, one arm wound tight around your waist while the other now presses lightly against the nape of your neck. Astarion kisses the side of your mouth passionately and keeps you even closer than the limits of your surroundings. That riles you up even more.

‘I want to — I want to, Astarion, oh — ’

You drag your hips up carelessly, unburdened by shame or nervousness. You’ve known Astarion since your first day in the city, and you’ve been through enough and had each other enough to no longer feel embarrassed by your needs, not that Astarion had ever let you feel insecure about anything. You whine against his neck, and he kisses you fully then, a pouty mouth against your needy tongue, and then you maneuver yourself in his lap so perfectly that it catches Astarion off-guard and he moans fully against your chin.

You lose yourself in the feeling and the sound. Astarion’s moans sound even better in a tight, enclosed space. His voice is soft, low, dangerous when it needs to be, and he only becomes this unraveled with you.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. You cry softly, nose bumping against his, and fall apart at the sound of his arousal, the feeling of his fingers dancing across the back of your neck, the sharp ecstasy that burns like a wildfire in the center of your stomach. You want to chase your release now. To find it in his lap, against his throat, softly and hoarsely in his ear. But you aren’t ready, not yet, and it takes all of your nerves to pull away.

It’s humid inside the car now. You take a quick look at the sight. You reach for stability, your palm sliding against the fogged window, smearing a glance into the darkness outside. You rest your other hand against the center console and arched your back, height leveraged against Astarion so that he can see you fully. He’s quick to respond to your change in position, no longer kneeling forward, but high above him like you’re sitting on a throne.

Astarion’s hands slide beneath the shirt you have left, palms trailing smoothly up the arc of your belly, warming the skin of your chest. He sighs handsomely and stares at you, leaning back so that he might enjoy the sight of you fully. And now that you’re able to, you’re able to pull fully all the way off the length of him, leaving him without the feel of you clenched tight around his cock. You’re only able to wait a few seconds for your own sake before you’re wiggling all the way back down until you are right back to where the gods want you to be.

‘You look delicious,’ Astarion says proudly, wearing a familiar half-smile.

‘For you,’ you confess. And it’s true.

‘You always look so beautiful to me,’ Astarion says in a tone that reminds you of when a cat has had its fair share of milk. He’s preening, cocksure. ‘Go on,’ he adds. ‘Fuck yourself for me.’

You swallow hard and do as ordered with a different rhythm. No longer do you seek out slow assured strokes. These are quick movements, careless, unpracticed and unmeasured, and Astarion helps you with two thumbs pressed against your stomach. It’s his turn to lean as far back as he can to give you all the room you need, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s probably the second hottest thing the two of you have done together. Fucking in a car in an empty parking lot. Your fingers slip against the window and Astarion catches you by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm so that he can wrap his fingers around yours.

‘Like that, beautiful,’ he says encouragingly, helping you. ‘You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to?’

You nod, unable to trust how your words would sound. One way or another, he always gets what he wants, and you know that with enough time and focus on your pleasure, Astarion will have you mewling.

‘Come on, baby,’ Astarion encourages you, and you can’t help but follow his every command. ‘I love the way you ride me — I was made to fill you up, you take my cock so well.’

His words only make you even more frenzied, riding him to the best of your abilities just so he’ll say something sweet about you again. He babbles nonsensical things about you, and if you were in a clearer headspace, you’d be able to make out his words but all you understand now is the nerves building up in the very bottom of your stomach as you chase satisfaction, so determined to see his face once it’s all over.

He coos at you, chin tilting all the way back so you’re able to stare at his pale throat. A gorgeous throat, sleek and elegant, wearing proof of your existence in little bruises and bites that are both new and almost healed. You want to bite him again, to let your teeth graze his Adam’s apple while he talks about politics that you barely understand, and with that, you reach for the back of his neck so that you can slam your mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Astarion hisses, and then he’s biting your lower lip until it swells, and you kiss him so sweetly your head spins.

And from there, you don’t last long. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever shook before, and your chest feels so tight and your cheeks feel so hot that you’re almost incapable of thinking. All you see and know is Astarion. Astarion, lounging against your passenger seat, his own cheeks ruddy and his expression twisted in pleasure. You cry out and collapse forward, burrowing into his chest as tightly as you can. He wraps his arms around you, kisses your temple.

‘Astarion, Astarion, please!’

‘Just like that, my love — ’ he gasps against your crown, grunting as his release hits him hard. ‘Like that, my pet, you’re perfect, my dear, my dear heart — ’

Your core tightens at his sweet words, and then it’s your churn to choke out a hoarse cry as pleasure races through your spine so sharply that it must hurt. You bite down on his shoulder for comfort, moaning as you try to come to your senses.

It’s somehow both hot and cold inside your little car. Everything is sticky with sweat, and the moisture in the air has started to cause Astarion’s hair to frizz up. You’re boneless. It’s only fair that he takes it upon himself to pull you up from his cock, tucking you back into your baggy sweatpants. You hover awkwardly, his cum on your thighs, while he drags his work pants up his slender thighs. You aren’t sure who is groggier, but when you glance at the clock on the dashboard, mild horror thickens in your stomach. You feel faint.

It might have been nearly three in the morning when Astarion was released from his duties, but it’s now four in the morning, give or take a few minutes. You start to make your way over to the driver’s side again, about to inelegantly climb across the center console when Astarion grabs you by the waist and kisses the side of your head gently.

‘You stay put,’ he mumbles. He sounds positively fucked thorough.

‘I made you stay up late,’ you say guiltily, but he shrugs.

‘Honestly, you did all the hard work,’ he says with a snort. ‘Lay back and close your eyes, darling. I’ll drive. Thank the gods it's the weekend.’

He opens the passenger door, and the cool air of the morning smells so refreshing to the smell of sex that permeates everything else. He stretches for a minute before coming back. He kisses your forehead tenderly, nudging your nose with his.

‘Love you,’ you murmur.

‘Love you,’ he says.

It all happens so quickly. You’re faintly aware of the sound of Astarion snapping his seatbelt in, your car humming to life, an Alfira ballad playing so quietly in the background it might as well not even be on. You’re so warm and toasty that you can’t keep yourself from leaning your head against the window. If you fall asleep before the first redlight, Astarion doesn’t say anything. All you can recall once you get home is a strong pair of arms holding you tightly, and the pillow you stole from his side of the bed, and his back against your chest.

As it should be.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #taco bell tag

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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Hi, please could I request a super fluffy, adorable and sickeningly sweet blurb for Bradley Bradshaw??

Sweet Rooster has a ridiculously tight hold on my heart right now

🐓

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

Rooster didn't realize how touch deprived he was until he met you. It's silly, really, because how could he not know? He was almost always alone and--more often than not--on a carrier in the middle of an ocean surrounded by testosterone. Maybe he didn't notice for so long because he didn't really care--or he thought he didn't care.

But then one night, only a month into what would become a very serious relationship, he was blinking himself awake as the two of you tried to get through Kill Bill: Volume 2 for the third time that week. He couldn't help that he was so tired, really. He got up at the crack of fucking dawn (which you thought was endlessly funny given his call-sign) and pushed his body to its limit all day on base in the hot sun. You didn't mind, really, and only teased him lightly about it. He obviously wanted to spend time with you, which was why you were sitting in his dark living room despite his desire to just sleep.

You're pretending not to notice him blinking himself awake and his big, brown eyes that are cartoonishly drooping. He's slumped over on the couch with his arm wrapped lazily around your waist.

In the middle of the movie, just after he dozes off for the third time, you turn to look at him. He's so dazed with exhaustion that he doesn't even feel your gaze, his thumb stroking long and complete circles over your bicep in a repetition that is surely aiding in lulling him to sleep.

"Roos," you whisper.

He slowly turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows, giving you a pathetic excuse of a smile. For a moment, he's worried you're mad at him. He really doesn't want to give you the wrong impression by watching the same movie three times in one week because he keeps fucking falling asleep while you're here. But when he sees your face, partly made up of shadows and partly made up of the flashing TV lights, he sees how open and gentle you look. Your eyes are soft and wide, lips tugging upwards, eyebrows blanched. You're not mad at all and he knows that immediately.

"M'so sorry," he says despite knowing you're not angry. He still wants to kick himself for not being able to just stay the fuck awake. "I really want you to know that I like you so much--like so, so, so much and you aren't, like, boring me or anything it's just that--!"

You don't know exactly why you do it, but you're glad you do. You have delicately tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and it has rendered him entirely speechless--sentence coming to a screeching halt. It literally takes his breath away when you begin to very lightly scratch his scalp.

"Found your off button," you whisper, a grin creeping up your lips.

He wants to say something back, something witty and sharp, but he is so overcome with the desire to lean into your touch that he can do nothing but. His head grows heavy in your hands and you accept it with grace, laughing softly. It's a laugh that tells him for once in his life, he shouldn't be worried about imposing himself on others. He should just let you play with his hair.

"That's...that's real nice," he whispers finally, his voice thin.

You love seeing him like this: his lips parted, his eyes slipped shut, his Adam's apple bobbing thickly, his eyebrows pinched just so. He looks even more beautiful to you now than he did before--and it's because he's letting you get closer to him.

"Why don't you lay on my lap?"

Any other time, he'd have some sort of retort. But he just complies in silence, reeling at the loss of contact when you situate yourself so your lap is open and free for his head to lay upon.

But just before he lays down, a fear grips every nerve in his body. He hasn't laid on anyone's lap in years--fuck, he can't even remember the last time he laid in anyone's lap. Surely it was his mother's all those years ago--before she got sick, before he grew up, maybe even before his dad died. He feels, suddenly, like he's giving into something he didn't even know was tugging him.

But then he sees your eyes gleaming in the dim light. And maybe it's because you have the most beautiful face he's ever seen and maybe it's because he's lonely and maybe it's because he really does likely and maybe it's because he's so dead-tired, but as soon as you nod towards your lap, he complies.

Really, it's the closest you two have been before. You've had your fair share of over-the-shoulder cuddles and some polite goodnight hugs and quick kisses. But this--his cheek pressed against your thighs with one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other laying peacefully in the middle of his back--it's the most intimate thing you've done.

"People could pay you to do this," he mumbles, slurring against the material of your yoga pants.

You have to bite a grin as you gaze down at his profile; his features have all gone slack and you know he's on borrowed time now, slipping easily and restfully into dreamland.

"First one's on the house," you mumble, delicately outlining the scar across his throat. His long eyelashes flutter against his smooth skin and his mustache twitches very lightly when his mouth parts. "You're a very beautiful man, Bradley."

Heat gathers in his cheeks. You've rendered him speechless again.

In response, he wraps his arm around your leg, the one he's laying on. The crook of his elbow rests flush against the backside of your knee and he draws a careful line down the line of your calf. And then, very gently and with quivering lips, he turns and presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

And that's when you know. Really, that's when you both know: you're it for each other. Everyone else can go home.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

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coffeeghoulie · 18 days

Note

Maybe some phantom/aeon angst and maybe some swiss or mountain comfort?

Maybe phantom/aeon being all jumpy and on edge bc of anxiety and gets comforted after it’s all a bit too much?

-anon

I know you said Swiss or Mountain, but I did both instead lol. Hope you enjoy!

Content warning for an anxiety attack.

Aeon knows caffeine isn't going to help the way their heart flutters against their ribcage like a frightened bird, but their fingers wrap around the ceramic mug anyways. If anything, the warmth radiating from the coffee is soothing, at least a little bit.

They sit on a barstool at the kitchen table, back to the door, watching as Mountain organizes and puts away the morning's greenhouse harvest. His own mug sits on the counter, something that smells herbal and almost medicinal wafting up from it. Mountain hums as he works, something a little off-key but warm, earnest.

Mountain had pressed the coffee into their hands when they had stumbled into the kitchen earlier than they normally did, too keyed up from some dream they couldn't quite remember. They sip at it, stomach not quite agreeing with it, but Mountain's made it exactly the way they like it, sweet but not overly so, and they'd feel even worse turning him down.

They finish the coffee as Mountain leans against the kitchen counter, his tea in one hand, the other curled around the counter. There's a surge of envy that fills their chest at how at ease he looks, how every muscle in his body isn't tense and ready to jump.

"You alright, petunia?" Mountain asks, taking a long sip of his tea. Aeon whips their head to face him. "You're normally not awake this early."

They swallow hard, the aftertaste of the coffee suddenly too bitter. They shrug, hoping their face remains pleasantly neutral, hiding the way their mind races. Why can't they be calm? Why do they feel like they're dying? What's happening to them?

Mountain's brow furrows, and Aeon stares into their empty mug to avoid his gaze. Of course he can see right through them. Aeon swallows hard, their breath coming faster and faster and they can't stop it, why can't they stop it?

They're spiraling over nothing and they can feel Mountain's eyes on them and and and-

Aeon yelps as a hand touches their shoulder, jolting as the mug slips from their fingers, shattering against the tile.

Everything stops.

"Aeon?" a voice Aeon knows is Swiss's says behind them. Mountain pushes himself up to standing, taking a step towards them. They keep staring at the shattered ceramic.

"'M sorry," they wheeze, mind starting to race again. They broke one of Mount's mugs. Aeon moves to collect the broken pieces, desperately trying to make things right, when Swiss's hand tightens ever so slightly around their shoulder.

"Don't apologize," he says, voice steady and calm and Aeon clings to it like a life preserver. "It's okay. It was an accident. I'm sorry for startling you, bug."

Aeon gives a little warbling hum, still bending to gather the broken pieces.

"Hey, hey, Aeon, stop," Swiss says, pulling them upright. "Mount's grabbing the broom, I don't want you to cut yourself on those."

Aeon finally meets Swiss's eyes, and the concern they see written there makes their shoulders slump, their breathing shaky. Swiss is quick to wrap his arms around them, holding them just tight enough.

"It's okay, you're okay, we've got you," he breathes, chuffing softly in their ear. "Can you follow my breathing?"

They nod, trying to focus on the way his hand skates up and down their spine, the in and out of his breath. He whispers softly as they shakily try to follow along. "That's it, bug, doing so good. Just keep breathing nice and slow, okay?"

Aeon nods again, burying their face in the crook of his neck. They tense up just a little as they hear the tinkle of ceramic shards against each other, the scrape of the broom against the tile, but Swiss just coos a little louder, runs his fingers through their hair.

Mountain approaches the two of them, his footsteps deliberately louder so Aeon knows he's coming up behind them. "It's alright, petunia, we've got you," he says, voice a low rumble. Aeon leans back on the stool, lifting their face from the crook of Swiss's neck to rest the back of their head against Mountain's chest.

They nod as Mountain starts to purr, a deep thing that they can feel buzzing against them. Their eyelids slip a little, breathing suddenly so much easier, safe in the arms of their packmates. "Thank you," Aeon says, and they've never meant anything more.

#dot's writing #aeon ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #fic request #cw anxiety #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction

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k-zu · 1 year

Note

REALLY LOVE YOUR DRAGON LI FIC ITS SO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIABSUAVHA <33

is it okay if I request dragon zhongli headcanons with gn reader?

maybe you can add one where he’s in full dragon form and reader helping him out with grooming like brushing and untangling some matted parts of his hair or using products to care for his scales or horns? :o

(with or without reader is fine with me :])

feel free to decline this! Have an awesome week ⭐️💗

request and you shall be granted.

( i've never written anything in headcanon format, hope this is alright ! )

"after stepping down from his title as an archon, zhongli still isn't able to live a truly mortal life, for he still is a half-dragon even without the mighty exuvia. as his companion though, he's more than grateful that you're there to help him through it."

getting used to maintaining a fully human form becomes harder without his gnosis, that's why he lets some of his dragon-like features out while hiding them under his clothes. like his shining arms and hands under his suit and gloves.

he has the sharpest instincts, when he feels you're in danger he's quick to manifest geo shields around you, he might even get in a protective stance in front of you. like a dragon protecting its treasure.

after long days of dealing with his restless child boss, he comes home and, if he's comfortable enough with you, instantly lets his half-dragon form out. opting for rest under the sun or nuzzled in bed with you.

half-dragon zhongli is extremely sensitive to touch, perhaps becomes a bit more bold when seeking for your attention too. he'll become more touchy and will try to kiss you more often. if you do even as much as to reciprocate a kiss and put your hands on him, it's over for you. he's not letting go.

half-dragon zhongli is also extremely sensitive to how you're feeling, if he senses tiredness, fatigue or anything that might get you in a bad mood or sick, he will stand by your side and offer to help you with whatever he can to make you feel more comfortable. ( i have a drabble on this where reader falls sick ehe all fluff ! )

"my, but you're shivering! would you like me to get you some blankets, my dear? oh? just hug you?" he giggles, "you don't need to ask twice, my love."

half-dragon zhongli who purrs without noticing !!!

half-dragon zhongli whose golden markings shine in pulsating glows along the beat of your heart, they're on his arms and legs and perhaps even chest, where he likes to place his hand and watch as the light that represents your heart slips through the fingers covering it.

sometimes, he pretends to fall asleep on the couch so you can quietly join him for a bit, and after he's sure you've fallen asleep he cuddles you and kisses the back of your neck with such fondness.

now, full-dragon zhongli but a tiny version of the exuvia who acts a lot like a cat but is still able to understand you.

he lets you pet him and marvels at the little kisses you leave on his head. he also lets you help him untangle and take care of his fur, very softly at first fearing you might hurt him accidentally. he just stares at you attentively until you feel giddy enough to leave a kiss or two between your work, he'd close his eyes and smile in delight.

tiny cat-like dragon zhongli whose favorite place to nap on is your lap !

he can't afford to manifest the big exuvia form without his gnosis, specially not inside his mortal house. so he settles on a smaller form, perhaps the size of a small dog. he'd be always on top of you in some way, your shoulders, your head, or clinging to your pants until you pick him up.

maybe if you visit his adepti abode, he'd let you see the big dragon and then you'd understand all the legends and songs dedicated to his name.

perhaps if you meet each other after giving up his gnosis, he'd feel scared of telling you the truth, fearing you might think differently of him if you find out he used to be the geo archon and is now just a non-human funeral consultant.

i can imagine him wishing to really touch you, without gloves, to feel your warmth and the softness of your skin, to love every part of you without restrictions. ( i just thought of a very cute drabble idea for this ( ˙▿˙ ) )

half-dragon zhongli would be the most difficult person to get things done with, you need to get out of bed to work? are you sure?

"dearest, you're so warm…" "i hear you, but we really need to get up."

dragon zhongli who, in his big form, likes to walk/fly around just for you to admire him and compliment him.

dragon zhongli who makes a contract with himself to protect you from any and all harm for as long as he lives ( and has the ability to remember ).

a/n:

i am more than soft for dragon zhongli, the brainrot is so strong UWAAAA

no beta we die.

#★; requests #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #dragon zhongli x reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli headcanons #dragon zhongli headcanons #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #原神

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toomuchracket · 7 months

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scary movies (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

day 3 of promptober75! this is less about scary movies than it is about the two of them musing on romance. but they do watch bones and all! i don't think there are any spoilers, but don't yell at me if there are please lol this isn't proofread. yeah, this is just a cutely weird little fic about some cutely weird people. i hope you enjoy!

"baaaaaaaabe, hurry up. i miss you!"

you can hear the pout in matty's voice, even from the next room of the hotel suite. picking up the bowl of m&ms in one hand and the open bottle of champagne in the other, you pad back into the bedroom. "how can you miss me? you've been with me the whole day."

"i always miss you when i'm not right beside you, no matter how long it's for," matty replies, sitting up on his knees on the bed to carefully take the bowl and bottle from your hands. the way his stomach muscles shift with the movement makes your knees run the risk of shaking. "the night before our wedding is going to be hellish for me. are you sure we can't just stay together? al green it?"

"baby, it's tradition."

"peer pressure from dead people, you mean."

"fine, another reason, then. oh, here's one - absence makes the heart grow fonder. you can't argue with Classical poetry."

"try me, babe."

you sigh. "matty, sweetheart, love and light of my life, sole occupant of my head and heart… it's only for twelve hours of our lives. and we will literally be on the same floor of the same building. it'll be fine!"

matty quirks a brow.

god, he's stubborn. you inhale deeply before you talk again. "alright. i'll wait until the bridesmaids are asleep and then we can sneak out together for a walk. but i'm not sleeping with you at all - in either sense, actually - regardless of how crippling your separation anxiety is."

"i can work with that, darling. thank you," matty smiles and leans up to kiss you.

before he can, though, you place your index finger on his pretty lips. "not so fast, healy, i have a caveat: i'll only do it if we can share a cig."

matty rolls his eyes, and nudges your finger from his face with a quick head movement. "should've seen that one coming. christ, fine. one cigarette, and that's it. don't want any rattling coughing fits during our vows."

you giggle, leaning down to kiss him; the speed with which his face softens afterwards is comical, almost cartoon-like. "thanks, angel."

"mmm, can't wait to marry you," matty murmurs against your lips. "nor can i wait for you to get into bed with me so i can cuddle you the way i've wanted to all day."

"point taken, baby, just let me…" your face screws up as you reach around to unclasp your bra through your (matty's) t-shirt, before pulling it out from under the soft material and launching it towards the open suitcase in the corner of the room. relief palpable, you climb onto the bed and grin at an enamoured matty, now sitting against the plush headboard and swigging champagne. "freedom at last."

"you know, i'd gladly do that for you, sweetheart," matty smirks, tugging you onto his lap with one arm. "in the name of feminism, and all."

"as much as i commend your attempts to champion the gender, baby, i'll pass," you smile, enjoying the tiny moan that slips from your fiancé's lips as you weave your hands into his hair. "because i know if i let you do that, your hands are gonna end up on my tits, and then we'll never get anything done."

"oi, that's not true," matty frowns (cutely). "we'll get each other done. and i know you enjoy that. as do i, my god."

his lips attach themselves to your neck, making their way down; your insides begin to liquify, but you fight through the slight haze of pleasure and stand your ground. "yeah, i really do enjoy it. but, baby, there's other stuff i enjoy doing with you that i wanna do too, yeah? like… watching this film we agreed we were gonna put on tonight."

matty groans against your skin. "must we?"

"yes. you promised me, matty," you say, as firmly as you can with his lips still attached to your collarbone. "we watched the irishman yesterday because you wanted to, and you said we could do bones and all today. it's only fair."

"a romance film about cannibalism," matty mutters to nobody in particular. "it's foul, that concept."

"well, fair is foul and foul is fair."

"what?"

"macbeth. shakespeare. can't argue with him. anyway," you say, shuffling around so matty can lean back against your chest. "can i put the film on now?"

a deep sigh, one that seems to drag itself up from the depths of matty's soul. "depends."

"on?"

"it depends," matty begins dramatically. "on if you're going to spend the rest of the day thirsting over timothée chalamet or not."

"you know, i seem to like him a lot more in your head than i do in real life."

"really?"

"yeah."

matty hums, appeased. "sick. go on, then, stick it on."

you press a kiss to matty's temple and snake a hand across his torso to hold his own. matty brings it to his lips, and the contact seems to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. "thank you, lover."

the beginning of the film passes without much incident; that is, until the first lightly gory scene. you wince a little at the sound of cracking bone, but you're nowhere near as bad as matty, who almost upends the bowl of sweets resting on his lap and vigorously shakes his head as if it'll erase the memory from his brain.

once it passes, he reaches for the champagne on the bedside table and takes a long drink, before passing the bottle to you. "maybe you'd better hang onto that, darling."

"alright, baby."

despite both of your respective silences, and although you can't see matty's face, you can picture the disgust colouring his features from the way his head tilts against you as the film progresses. he doesn't speak until the film's main villain is introduced, reaching back for the champagne with a "creepy fucker, that one"; this sentiment is built upon at the shot of a james joyce book in said fucker's residence. "oh, christ, he really is suspicious."

despite your own discomfort towards the happenings on-screen, you grin at matty's assessment. "i mean, yeah, baby. but i think the lurking and creeping kinda gave that away already."

"well, obviously. but that book's an extra layer of him being an absolute wrong'un."

you giggle, wrapping your other arm around matty and resting your head on his shoulder. with a happy little huff of air through his nose, matty turns slightly to kiss your cheek; the two of you stay like that, cosied up in a tableau of casual domestic intimacy. it's sweet, for a while, and comfortable - matty even rips the piss out of you at a particular scene involving timothée chalamet and a cornfield, touting it as "your dream movie death, babe".

(he's lowkey not wrong.)

the sweet moment breaks somewhat, though, as the film progresses and matty gets increasingly more grossed out. with every drop of blood spilled, every jumpscare, every mere mention of the "eating" driving the plot, the muscles in his limbs loosen and contract back into tension, soundtracked by a chorus of gasps, gulps, groans of disgust, and the odd "oh for fuck's sake" when things get really horrid. in spite of your own discomfort at some of the gore, you can't resist fucking with your fiancé a little bit; amidst a silently fraught moment for maren, the protagonist, you lean right next to an unsuspecting matty's ear and crunch a handful of m&m's in your mouth. he practically hits the ceiling in fright, and pinches your thigh with a "not fucking funny". but he doesn't let go of you at all, however grumpy you make him, holding you like a lifeline throughout. in fact, by the time the credits start rolling, matty's fully squished his face into your ribs to get away from the gore on screen, thumbs rubbing your thighs so quickly to try and calm his noticeably thumping heart that you fear he might accidentally set your skin ablaze.

despite his terror, though, you have to hold back a laugh. "matty, sweetheart," you say, trying with all your might to keep your voice steady. "were you scared of that movie?"

"no, just unnerved by it," comes the clearly- untrue reply, muffled by your cotton-mix-clad chest. "like, they were just constantly eating raw? really? mingin'."

you can't hold back a derisive cackle now, though. "you're freaked out at people eating raw meat? you fucking hypocrite!"

"i wasn't eating people, was i?" matty protests.

"i don't know, i think you ate with it at finsbury."

matty scoffs, but you feel him smile against you. "you're a right weirdo, sometimes, you know that?"

"and you're a scaredy-cat, you know that? honestly. can't even handle a bit of cannibalism in a movie. pussy."

your fiancé pulls back from your chest to look at you, and you regret your words immediately as soon as you see the shit-eating grin on his face. "well, you are what you eat."

an immediate facepalm. "i can't stand you."

"that ring on your left hand suggests otherwise, darling," matty kisses said ring, then presses little pecks up your finger to the tip. "and look at that - you can be romantic and kiss fingers without wanting to munch on them. this film is nonsensical. i mean, i get it's some metaphorical thing about loving people for who they truly are, but jesus, the cannibalism isn't half disgusting."

"hmmm, i don't know," you muse, twirling matty's curls around your fingers. "i think there's something romantic about it. the ending with maren and lee, at least."

matty peels your fingers out of his hair and moves to face you, his beautiful face contorted into the most bewildered expression you think you've ever seen. "are you on something right now?"

"i'm serious! it's romantic, if ill-advised. and messy."

"sweetheart," matty shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "politely - what the fuck are you on about?"

you smile. "well, it's all about desire, and lust, yeah?"

"yeah, i get that, but…"

"so, it's just needing somebody so much that you, well, you consume them in their entirety. and also, like," you continue, pushing your slipping glasses back up your nose. "there's an element of closeness to it, too. how much more intimate can you get than having your lover being broken down in your digestive system, literally fuelling you the way their love does so emotionally? oh, and devotion! giving yourself up to your lover like that to sustain them? you're together forever. yeah, it's disgusting, but you can't deny there's a romance to it, matty, you really can't."

he looks like he wants to, though. "but it's so violent."

you roll your eyes. "says the man who wrote a song about the idea of cracking his girlfriend's skull open, just so he could know exactly what she was thinking. and i thought that was sweet, and romantic."

matty opens his mouth as if to disagree, then closes it and shrugs. "actually, you've got a point, darling," he smiles almost shyly, tracing patterns in the bare skin of your shin. "i wrote that about you, you know."

"you did? aww, baby," you coo, pulling your fiancé's face towards you so you can kiss all over it. "i had no idea!"

"oh, come on, babe, who the fuck else would it have been about?" matty scoffs. "used to daydream about being so intimate with you like this, just hearing you think out loud, as unedited as you'll ever get."

you smirk. "bet you didn't think the thoughts would be about the inherent romance of cannibalism, huh?"

matty laughs, leaning in to kiss you slowly, deeply, passionately. "no, but it doesn't matter. i love you regardless."

"i love you too. and i promise i won't try to eat you, baby."

"nor will i take a heavy object to your skull, sweetheart. however," matty smirks, shuffling down the bed to rest his head in the gap between your legs. "i would quite like to eat you in a slightly different sense, if you'll allow."

"oh, go on then."

#mads does writing #mads muses #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #promptober75

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vyrsgore · 28 days

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𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🐇 aventurine x reader

you smell nice today” he whispers through the lazy morning of a warm summer. you’re lying in his bed, captured in his arms as he holds you, snuggling into your scent and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

"it's the perfume you bought me" you yawn softly, snuggling closer to him.

his thumb lightly brushed against your cheek. the gesture was subtle but affectionate. "so i did," he hummed, a grin spreading across his features. he relished in the moments he was afforded with you, no matter how fleeting or infrequent.

"i was hoping you'd use it," he said, bringing his lips close to your ear. the warmth of his breath tickled your skin as he exhaled.

"i like wearing it when i'm around you," you mumbled, unable to keep the weary yawn from escaping your mouth. the scent was intoxicating indeed, one that evoked a deep sense of serenity within you.

"because it reminds you of me," he completed the statement, chuckling quietly as he brushed a piece of your hair from your face. "i wish i could keep you in bed all day. just to watch you sleep, to feel you snuggled up against me," he breathed, his eyes fixated on you.

"you could. you could if you wanted to" you whisper.

"you know i'd love to," he sighed, his eyes flickering with desire. all he wanted was to spend every waking moment with you.

"if i could keep you here with me forever without you ever leaving, i would do it in a heartbeat," he murmured, the words spilling out of his mouth as he struggled to keep from kissing you. "it breaks my heart every time you slip away like this."

"i don't slip away, rin. you just manage to slide out of my grip every time..." you sigh

"you know i wish i could stay longer. but you know i can't," he sighed, adjusting his position so that your head was resting on his chest.

"...you still have a life outside our little rendezvous," he reminded you gently. it was hard for him to admit that you had others you had to give your time to.

"it isn't little to me. not at all" you say softly, listening to his heartbeat.

"you think i don't know that?" he mumbled, lightly brushing his fingers through your hair. "it isn't little to me either. in fact,... it means much more to me than i could ever voice to you."

"but i have work. i have responsibilities," he sighed.

"you have a life."

"and you're part of it" you argue, "there was a time before all of this, before the ipc, when we were just two kids."

"and i remember that time well," he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut. "i remember everything about it. i wish we could go back to the way it was..."

"but things are much different now. and neither of us are kids anymore. we both have real-life commitments. responsibilities. the time you invest in me... it could be spent in other places. in a relationship that isn't hidden away like ours."

"we both know that."

you look away, shifting on the bed and not replying.

"am i wrong?" he asked quietly. "am i wrong for saying that there's someone out there you could be with? someone who you could have a normal relationship with, instead of having to sneak around like this?"

"you don't understand, rin" you say eventually, biting the words, "i... i don't want any of that as long as you're here. i can't have normal relationships knowing that i could still be with you"

"..."

the words had pierced straight through his heart. the truth of them, the validity of them—everything about them were painfully accurate.

"...so i'm your choice? over anything else?"

"always"

the word lingered in his mind. he thought about it over and over again. always. over anything else. him. he was your choice. you could have anyone or anything else, and you chose him.

the thought itself was almost overwhelming. and in that moment, he felt a deep sense of validation wash over him as he came to the realization that you thought he was worth it—enough for you to keep coming back to him.

eventually, he squeezed your hand gently.

"i'm sorry" you whisper, realizing how truthful you had just been with him.

"sorry for what?" he hummed. he raised himself up on his elbow, trying to look over to you, only to be met with the sight of your closed and turned away face. "sorry for telling me the truth? for telling me you want me?"

"i don't know yet. but i'm sorry" you mumble, and lean forward to kiss him.

His lips parted for you immediately, the touch of your lips awakening a fiery desire within him. He held you close, one hand resting on your lower back, the other cradling your neck.

"Don't apologize," he murmured, his tone breathy and lustful. "Don't apologize for telling that you want me. Because, gods be damn, so do I..."

@vyrsgoreྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 do not copy or paste <3

#hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #hsr x reader #hsr #fanfic

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siriusleee · 8 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 6

Historical Executioner AU Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

A/N: I am actually sorry to the anon who asked me weeks ago if this Jonathan is Jonathan Price and I said no. I lied. I couldn't show my hand to fast.

If you liked this chapter or story please consider donating to my ko-fi. I am super broke and writing is like my second job.

You can also request a custom, just for you fic there. I will not be adding any additional tags to my tag list. Please turn on notifications for my blog or follow on Ko-Fi. find the other chapters here on my masterlist

You don't bring up running away with Simon again. You think about it, each night sitting in his cabin, the nights you spend beside him, fingers memorizing the hills and valleys of his body. It eats at you - the complete knowledge that if you were to leave alone, you would leave him behind. You're not sure what would be worse: a life without him or a life with him always on the fringes.

You almost bring it up again, just once. Lily had cooked too many sticky buns, something you'd found out Simon was completely susceptible to. There was a sneaking suspicion that she was doing it on purpose - you knew that she was smart enough to put it together: the cloak you'd returned, and all the nights you spent away. Watching him suck the syrup from his fingers, the question tumbled out of you - one you'd been thinking of for weeks.

"You can get married can't you? The last executioner was."

Simon froze, finger still poised in his mouth. His gaze kept you pinned to your seat as he thought about his answer.

"We cannot marry once we've been sentenced. However, if we were married previously, we stay married."

You had wanted to push the question further.

Would you marry me?

But you didn't ask it, instead keeping it close to yourself.

There was no good answer, and you knew whatever it was he said would break you anyway. So you keep the fantasies to yourself: of the two of you running away, of Simon being the one to wait for you at the end of the aisle. Even if it meant Mother and Father never speaking to you again, you would give it up for him. But you know what he would say, so you keep it to yourself.

You know you need to tell him when Jonathan is coming home, so you do. Curled up into the small of Simon's back, you whisper the words, mouth nearly pressed against his spine. It's a subtle shift, the way Simon tenses at the words, but you feel it nonetheless.

"He'll be back in the port tomorrow."

Simon swallows heavy in the silence.

"I hope he arrives in one piece."

He doesn't roll over to face you while the two of you speak, and you don't want him to. You couldn't take the look on his face, you know it.

"I'm sure he will. He's not new to sailing."

"I suppose you'll be staying home tomorrow night - to spend some time with him."

His voice clenches at your heart; absentmindedly you trace patterns on his back, fingers stuttering on the scars that litter him. Your favorite - one that's shaped vaguely like Orion, you trace, feeling the way Simon shutters at the feeling. It takes nearly a full minute for you to speak around the knot in your throat.

"I will have to stay late at home, yes. But I can come here after."

Simon shakes his head, the bed shaking beneath the two of you with the movement.

"He is your fiance; you should spend some time with him."

You can't think of anything you want to do less, but you know he's right, and you know he won't let you do otherwise. So you slip your hands around him, pulling him so that your chest is pressed tightly against his back, and let his breathing lull you to sleep.

He wakes you up earlier than usual to go home the next day.

When you step through the front door of your home, it's still dark outside. The faint sounds of the house sleeping greet you along with the smell of a long extinguished fire. Upstairs it's chilly, your feet freezing almost immediately against the wooden floor. Your first stop is to peek in at Maggie and Lily, each curled up against each other.

Your second is to clean up, to prepare for the day.

By the time everyone is awake, you've done your best to get some sort of breakfast ready. Or at least prepared enough that Maggie and Lily can take over.

"You look horrible," Maggie says, pulling the toast from the fire. Her eyes are dark moons against her skin, her hair still tangled.

"Thank you Maggie, I really appreciate it." Your sarcasm falls flat - she must notice, must know why because she doesn't have a retort for the first time.

"Are you excited?" She asks, pulling an apron around her waist to keep her skirt clean. You pretend to pick the dirt that isn't there from beneath your fingers so that you don't have to meet her pinpoint gaze.

You decide, after fiddling with your thumb for long enough, that there is no reason to lie to her.

"Not in the least bit."

Lily keeps her eyes downcast at the dough she forms roughly - dough for dinner tonight. You know the serving girl will be here later to help with it. Nothing can be spared for Jonathan's arrival. Jonathan who you will march towards in a month. Jonathan who had to know about Uncle Henry, and who couldn't do anything from halfway across the world.

"It could be worse you know, he-"

"Shut up Maggie."

Your words cut through the kitchen; around you the ambient temperature drops. Lily's hands still in her task, but she still doesn't look up at the two of you. Maggie turns to face you with a stiffness that could only be inherited from Mother.

"What did you say to me?" There's fire burning in her eyes, but today you don't care.

"I said shut up," your voice quavers, "you get to marry the man you want. You got a choice in your own life. You want to be a wife and mother. I want differently. I want to travel the world with the man I love, and I can't. So please, just fucking drop it Maggie."

Your eyes plead with her - don't rub in today. Just leave it be.

You don't know if it's the look you give her, or if she finally developed the ability to feel sympathy, but she drops it.

When breakfast is ready, you skip it. Your feet pull you heavily up the stairs and to your bed. Even with the sleep you got the night before, warmed by Simon and held tightly to his side, you crawl into bed, flinching at the cold that attacks you.

You force yourself to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, you have a bad dream.

It is Simon waiting for you at the altar, usually worn out black attire swapped for something new and clean. The flower lined path between the two of you is long, and it seems as if no matter how many steps you take, you can't get any closer. Eventually you start to grow frustrated.

A movement on your right startles you, and you realize your arm is linked with your Father's. He should be walking you towards Simon, but instead he's steadfast. He doesn't look at you; his sight is death upon Simon. When you try to pull your arm away from him, he keeps you glued to your side.

At the altar, Simon's face starts to warp and shift into something more dangerous. He grows almost skeletal, skin paling.

Behind him, the glint of a sword.

You recognize the hit, the cross so delicately affixed on the end. It's his own sword, the one assigned to him when he became the executioner. You try to shout for him, but your Father keeps his iron grip on you - you're too far away for Simon to hear your yell.

When the iron meets blood you wake up.

Your mouth is coated in copper and iron; you've bitten your tongue in your sleep. Between the slots in the shutter, you can tell the sun has shifted drastically. The smell of a roast drifts up to you; at the end of the bed a heavy gown, light blue and new to you, is laid across the foot of the bed. It's an obvious message from Mother on what to wear for the night.

Your legs are lead; trying to stand makes you dizzy and the blood in your mouth makes you want to vomit. The wavy mirror across the room winks at you, projecting back the ragged version of yourself. You frown at it, fingers rubbing your eyes to try to get the haggard look off of your face. But it's futile.

The dress is like water between your fingers; you can only imagine how much it must have cost Mother and Father - how much wasted money trying to impress someone who already agreed to marry you.

The dress is light against your skin - laces pulled tight in the front to keep the neckline from slipping down to low.

You hate blue.

Your favorite color had been red - the red that only showed on the horizon when the sun was setting late in the summer. The red of the berries you and Lily could find in the early fall. But once, you'd arrived at Simon's when he wasn't expecting you; when he answered the door he had a dirty tunic you'd never seen before: forest green and loose around him.

The sight of him in something other than black had changed your entire perspective on the idea of colors.

You know that your face still looks terrible when you arrive downstairs, but everyone has the good graces not to say anything. Instead, they skirt around you - a ghost they’re tired of seeing. Father walks past, boots so freshly shined that you’re sure if you bend down and look, you could see your reflection in them. His waistcoat is looser than you remember it being; you can’t remember the last time he ate a complete dinner.

Maggie’s at the door with Edward; his hand lingers at the small of her back. The sight of them makes you want to hurl - it’s not fair. It’s not -

“Hello.”

Soft air tickles the shell of your ear, causing you to jump and stumble into the wall. A warm, rough hand wraps around your elbow, pulling you away from crashing.

The corner of Jonathan’s eyes crinkle up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up as he looks down at you. The smell of the sea waves off of him: coarse salt and sunshine, blue waves rolling beneath the smooth deck.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, straightening you back up. He must feel how your muscles tense beneath his hand because he drops you, your skin tight where he touched you.

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” it’s the truth, and you don’t need to force yourself to sound pleasant because of it.

“I arrived early, but your little sister said you were sick and asleep,” he holds his hands behind his back as he speaks, spine ramrod straight and the stance reminds you so much of Simon that your stomach aches.

“I was sick earlier, but I feel fine now.”

“You don’t look fine.”

His golden brown mustache twitches when you shoot him a look of venom before you can stop yourself.

"Don't you think that's a rather rude statement to say to a lady you've barely spoken to."

"It would be rude," Jonathan starts, cutting off to nod and Maggie and Edward as they skirt past the two of you to duck into the dining room, "if I lied to you."

"Is that so? I suppose that's some sort of moral code you live by."

Your tone is piercing, but Jonathan doesn't seem to mind. You don't break your stare away from his eyes, surrounded by weatherbeaten wrinkles. The product of months spent burning in the intense sea sun. He steps half a step closer to you, mouth opened to retort, but is cut off by Father.

"Everyone come!"

The sound of chairs scraping on the floor fills the house, but you don't move. Jonathan stays in place beside you, arms crossed over his chest as he stares into the dining room. The silence stretches out across the two of you until Father yells at the two of you again. Jonathan gestures for you to go first, he follows so close behind you that you can feel him just at the hem of your dress.

You can tell by the furtive looks that everyone sends you throughout dinner that they're waiting on you to explode and run away again. Everyone but Jonathan, who chats happily with Edward and teases Lily, her small smile shining in the otherwise oppressive room. But the time crawls, and by the time Maggie and Edward stand to excuse themselves from the barren plates in front of them, you're exhausted.

You want to excuse yourself back to bed, and you think you might when Father leans back in his own chair, hands clasped tightly in his lap, and speaks to Jonathan.

"Jonathan I believe my daughter could use some fresh air; her complexion is terrible. Do you mind accompanying her?"

"No Father," you try to deflect, pushing yourself away from the table, "I'm sure Jonathan wants to get home. He must be exhausted."

Across the table, Jonathan studies you with a look you can't fathom. You try to beg him with your eyes to say no to decline the offer, but he doesn't.

"Nonsense," Father says, hand digging into his pocket for his tobacco, "you have a wedding in three weeks and the two of you barely know each other. Go."

His words leave a ringing in your ears; you find yourself moving like a wind up doll, following Jonathan to the door. You flinch away from him when he tries to settle your cloak across your shoulders, but he pulls away, and you take the strings from him.

The darkness is oppressive outside; fog rolls in heavy and pregnant from the sea. The last few villagers skirt around, attempting to avoid the rain that threatens to fall from above. Jonathan sets a leisurely pace, steering the two of you away from the town center. The silence stretches between the two of you, the only sound is the two of your feet against the hard packed dirt.

He steers you towards the pier, his ship bobbing in the distance. The lanterns scurry around the deck, but you can't make out the faces of the men carrying them.

"Where is it you want to sail first?" Jonathan's voice cuts through the wind rolling off of the waves. He keeps a distance between the two of you.

"What?"

"Where do you want to sail first? You are in charge of our path?"

You can't help the mirthless laugh that escapes you, hands clenched so tightly together beneath your cloak that you're losing sensation in your fingertips.

"I am in charge of no path Jonathan. Let's not make a pretense of this entire thing."

He shuffles his feet, boots carving the soft loam beneath the two of you.

"Is that how you feel?"

"It's not how I feel, Jonathan. It's the truth. We can labor under whatever pretense we want, but it's the truth."

You watch his hand come towards you from the corner of your eye, but it barely skirts the curve of your shoulder.

"Is there - is there someone else?"

You can feel his warmth through all the layers of your clothing; it's dangerous you know, to tell him the truth. To betray the secret happiness you and Simon have, but you're so tired of pretending to be someone else. Of pretending that there is nothing between you and Simon. So for once, you let the truth fall from you.

"Yes. There is."

You expect his hand to turn heavy, to dig into the sensitive skin of your shoulder and dash you across the ground. But if anything his hold growls more gently as he steps towards you, chest nearly touching your arm.

"Why don't you refuse - tell your Father you won't marry me. And marry him instead?"

"You're naive," you shrug his hand off, "if you think I have a choice. My Father settled on you, and that is what I have to do. I have no rights except the right to my home, which has to be provided to me by a man."

"And so you are stuck."

His mouth turns down as he speaks, fingers dipping into the neckline of his shirt. He pulls out a flash of a medal, and you recognize it from the one that dangles above you from Simon's neck.

"Let me guess," you cut him off, "you're going to tell me how much you relate to me. How the King and his military took all the choices you had once."

"How did you know?" He asks, letting the cross fall to dangle on his chest.

"You aren't the first person to ever tell me that."

"Was he wrong?"

You think of Simon telling you the same thing, think of the way he's been regulated to his position because of a mistake supposedly made on the battlefield. Of the way the both of you are trapped here under someone else's bootheel.

"He was right, in a way."

You pull yourself away from the image of the ocean, Jonathan following you faithfully. Your feet find the hidden path you and Simon used to walk when he was still Ghost to you.

"I don't suppose," you ask, rounding the farthest house and turning back towards home, "that you are so kind and noble that knowing I belong to someone else, you will tell my Father that you don't wish to marry me anymore."

Jonathan chuckles, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

"You don't think that you could grow to love me?"

You measure your words out with the beat of your steps.

"Perhaps in another life, Jonathan."

He doesn't answer your question. The last of the shutters close around the two of you as he walks you home, cloaks swishing over the dirt and cobblestones. Fat, heavy rain drops start to fall, you pull the hood of your cloak up to protect your hair. When the rain starts to fall harder, Jonathan follows suit.

At your front gate, you go to push past him and leave him at the latch, but Jonathan reaches out to stop you. His eyes shine at you from the darkness of his hood as he holds you still, one arm on each elbow.

"For what it's all worth: I am sorry."

You think, as he leans down, that he's going to kiss you, and the thought makes your stomach drop. But instead he presses a single, chaste kiss to your cheek before pulling away. Your skin tingles from where his beard touched your sensitive skin.

The rain starts to fall in a heavy sheet as he brushes past you, back towards where his ship is docked. You're stuck, fingernails digging into the wood of the front gate, and you think you might throw up from the feeling of the world rushing beneath your feet.

It's not until you lift your head, trying to unstick your feet from where you're frozen to the ground, that you catch sight of the looming figure down the street.

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii #like blood on iron

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

Note

hi!! i love your fics, they keep me sane ❤️

i was thinking of a fic with aaron where it’s friends to lovers at the BAU & aaron being the profiler he is he notices something off when y/n starts pulling away after he meets beth (season 7/8/9)

then it’s raining & he drops y/n off at home after a long night of drinking their sorrows & she blurts out “because i’m in love with you, you idiot”

could be a love triangle or “i drop that bitch bc he’s also in love” type thing

p.s. plz don’t break my heart with aaron not loving us back

kk bye love you

🥹 that's so sweet thank you so much. i kinda switched this up a bit, and hehe i won't break your heart about him not loving us back but i can't promise it'll be a happy ending <3

history left unfinished

cw; angst!!! small mention of alcohol

the pattering rain was the perfect excuse to stay silent. it's been twenty minutes, and neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

it was loud- the repeated tapping smacked against the surface of aaron's car, making conversation impractical. so maybe that's why you suddenly gained the confidence to ask the question you've been holding in for months now, or it could've been the alcohol flowing through your body. nonetheless, you'd chalk it up to fate if he ended up hearing you or not.

"do you love her?" you didn't dare meet aaron's eyes, refusing to fall into their soft, warm comfort. instead, you watched the rain droplets as they raced each other down the glass of the window.

aaron glanced in your direction, "what'd you say?"

"are you in love with her?" you asked, your mind recalling the events from the past few hours.

the way his face lit up as she joined the team at the bar, the way his eyes would crinkle at the edges as he smiled at her as she spoke, the way his hand always involuntarily ended up in hers.

you've always pictured it differently. you've always pictured yourself in her place.

it was difficult not to, given the history you and aaron shared. the long, meaningful talks about anything and everything, the constant shared fear of the other's safety while in the field, spending your weekends only with him and jack, the one kiss you had shared.

but that's all it was now, history. thanks to her. your routine changed when beth entered into aaron's life, and you became a bystander in his.

it took him a while to respond, your eyes eventually finding his in the darkness. "i love her, yes." aaron said, almost cautiously.

"but are you in love with her?"

"don't." he shook his head, something in his voice you couldn't quite place.

"you're breaking my heart, you've been breaking it." your voice cracked as you felt yourself begin to tremble in your seat. "and it was never officially yours to begin with."

the car slowed to a stop as aaron parked outside your apartment building, also giving him the opportunity to focus solely on you. but the contradicting thing was, he couldn't answer you, silence overpowered him.

"i've loved you for so long." your words left you in a breath, your shoulders dropping from the weight of your confession. "i've wanted you to choose me for so long. i've waited."

aaron had noticed, the distance you've intentionally set forth between the two of you. the truth was, he did. he loved you back with every inch of him. but that was just it- he loved you. and it scared him. you knew the parts of him he kept hidden away, the parts that minimal people ever get to see. the more you saw, the closer the two of you became, the more you would realize how broken he was.

being with beth was easier, if it didn't work out, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much. and just maybe, keeping you at arm's reach, rather than in his arms, it would prevent you from slipping through his fingers entirely. panic began to slowly creep through him though, because he realized if he didn't answer adequately, you would.

but you took his silence as an answer within itself, opening the passenger door and hastily getting out of his car, slamming it behind you.

aaron was quick to follow, throwing his seatbelt off and hurrying after you. "wait!"

"it's fine." you insisted, squinting back at him as rain plummeted your face. thankfully, your tears blended in. "go be with her. it's fine. i'm so happy for you."

"you don't understand." he insisted, the crackling of thunder following his words.

"i understand fine." just like the sky, you wanted to scream. "let me let you go, please."

aaron's face softened a tad, his words leaving him in a sigh. "i don't want you to."

"don't make this even harder." you pleaded as he hesitantly stepped closer. "you said you love her, that's not fair."

aaron reached out for you, taking both your hands into his. "but-"

"no." you pulled your hands away. "whatever..." you took a moment, searching for the correct term. you heart ached, mourning the possibility- the what could have been. in the long run, this had to be the easiest solution. but you also pondered- how could it be?

despite your doubts, it was like a floodgate had been broken, and you finished your statement. "this is. or was. it's over. it has to be over."

aaron knew what he should've done. he should've grabbed your face and kissed you like his life depended on it. he should've admitted that you had claimed his heart and mind as yours forever ago, you utterly and completely consumed both. he should've told you that he's never been so deeply infatuated with someone, that it scared him.

but he just stood there. frozen. even after you had walked away.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine

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melanieph321 · 2 months

Text

Dominik x Black Reader - First Sight Part 6/8

Girlfriend

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

Your eyes were closed but you could feel him, pressing you against his naked torso, his fingers making soft patterns down your lower back.

"You smell good." He whispered.

You chuckled. "I smell like ten shots of Bacardi."

"Exactly, you smell good."

"Dominik." Your eyes flung open. The first thing that came to you was the silhouette of his face, outlined by the morning sun that slipped through the closed curtains.

"Hey, beautiful."

You smiled. "Hey."

"Sleep well?"

"I have a headache."

"It's probably the ten shots of Bacardi, don't you think?"

You stirrded, groaning in pain.

"Don't worry, I'll pick up something for the pain on our way back to Sami's."

"Right." You stopped stirring, looking up at Dominik that lay resting on his side.

"What?"

You shook your head.

"No. There is something bothering, you tell me."

You shook your head. "No, I don't want to."

"Is it about last night? The fact that we didn't use condoms?" Dominik sat up in bed. "I swear to you Y/N, I have clean bill of health. I get tested like every other month."

"Dominik..."

"And I would never come inside you unless you asked me to, which you didn't, so I didn't. Obviously. And...."

"Dominik." You shut him up by capturing his face between your hands, squishing his puppy dog cheeks. "It's not about last night, last night was perfect." You leaned forward, kissing him. He kissed you back, but was eager to have the next say. "What's bothering you then? I know it's something, please tell me."

You fell back on your elbows.

Dominik's eyes roamed your body, your breasts right in the periphery of his eyes.

"I dunno." You sighed. "I guess I just really don't want this day to end."

"What does it mean, if it ends?" Dominik looked at you, eyebrows furrowed.

"I dunno." You shrugged. "It would be the end of the day I met you."

He looked taken aback for a second, then he smiled. "We can't stay awake forever, you know that right?"

"Is that a challenge?" You smirked.

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close as he serenaded your shoulder with kisses. "I would gladly take it, trust me." He said. "I'm more than sure that the day I met you is the best day of my life."

You paused all movment, batting your eyes at each other. The words had been spoken but still felt unspoken somehow. Dominik's next words said it best. "Your with me now Y/N. The day I met you will never end."

It was terrifying, yet promising to be this in love. The two of you left Cassie's apartment, walking hand in hand down the empty street. It was a quiet morning, some people taking their dogs out for a stroll. You watched the day come to life, with houses opening up their windows to let in the fresh air, and children crossing the roads to ask their friends to come out and play. It was all very lovely and peaceful morning to experience with Dominik by your side, squeezing your hand.

"What do you do for a living?" You asked, curious to know why you hadn't seen him around campus before.

"You really don't know, do you?" He said, a answer which should have come off as arrogant but sound more genuine than anything.

"Should I?" You replied.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps I have to show you."

"Show me?"

Dominik was already dragging you along with him. His head turned right to left before crossing the street towards the nearest park.

"Dominik, what are you..."

"Hey, kids! You're up for a game of football?"

"Nelson look, It's Szoboszlai!"

There were children playing at the park, however all that stopped when the two of you approached. They were squinting their eyes at Dominik, mouths gawking once they had identified him. Somehow they all knew his name.

"Dominik Szoboszlai wants to play with us."

"What's he even doing here?"

"So are you up for a game or not? Me against all of you."

"No way!" The children cheered, running towards the field of grass just down the hill. Dominik had you running after them, and ones a goal was set he told you to take a seat and enjoy.

It was undoubtedly and amusing sight to see, but a grown man single handily taking on ten kids in a football game in the park, was that supposed to impress you somehow?

"So what do you think?" Dominik said, falling back beside you on the grass, breathless from the tremendous win. All of the kids had scattered, eager to show their parents the little pieces of paper they had Dominik sign for them.

"So...you're famous amongst kids?" You nodded.

He chcukled. "Somthing like that."

"Cool." You shrugged.

He looked stunned, unsure if you were serious or not.

"What?" You smiled.... "There's nothing wrong with being a Youtuber with an audience full of children."

"I'm not a Youtuber!" He exclaimed, almost on the verge of rage having to spell it out for you. That's when you broke character and lean forward to kiss him. "I'm just fucking with you."

He pulled back, a frown on his face. "So you know who I am? You've known all along?"

"No. Cassie told me at the party. And your friend was eager to show me videos of you doing some weird celebrations in the locker room."

"Ibou." Dominik sighed. "I'm sorry for my friend, he's very..."

"Funny and famous, like you."

"Does that bother you?" He asked, his eyes searching your face.

You shrugged. "It did, at least little bit. It's why I didn't want this day to end, this day, where it's just you and me. I take it you're wanted by many people besides me."

"Y/N, I'm...."

"I'm sorry." You apologized. "I know I must sound so delusional wanting you to commit. It's just that, with school and everything I just....I can't have drama in my life right now. And I imagine dating you won't be the easiest thing to do."

He nodded. Not denying anything you just said. "It won't be easy. But it will be worth it."

You snorted. His arrogance was truly unmatched.

"I'm serious Y/N."

The smile on your lips faded. His expression saying it all.

"You're all I've ever wanted. You're kind and fun to be around. Not to mention sexy as hell."

"Stop it." You giggled

"I'm serious, Y/N. I am willing to commit to you in order to prove that you're all I've ever wanted in a girlfriend."

"Oh, Dominik."

He tackled you right there in the grass. Fortunately there was no more children around. Your make-out session turned out to be less than PG-13.

"Now what?" You asked, straightening your skirt as the two of you stood from the ground. Dominik removed a straw of weed from your hair then offered you his hand. "We should tell somebody."

"Tell somebody what?" You frowned.

He looked at you amused. "I dunno, maybe the fact that we are alive and did not get kidnapped and killed during our twelve hour beer run."

"Oh, shit!" You gasped. Realizing that your friends must be so worried about you. Perhaps Tara had already called your mom and told her that you were missing.

"Don't worry." Dominik said, squeezing your hand as he noticed the look of panic on your face. "We'll pick up some beer once I've bought you something for your headache. Then we'll head back to Sami's. Then Trent and I will have to get ready for our training session this afternoon. I'm free again tonight if you want to come over for dinner?"

"You know what." You said, a thoughtful finger to your chin. "Maybe I have had enough of you today after all."

"What?" Dominik stopped in his tracks.

"I dunno." You shrugged. "I might need some space."

You struggled to contain your smile, to Dominik's relief. "You've got jokes I see."

"Plenty more where that came from baby."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in for a kiss.

God you were in love.

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai imagine #dominik szoboszlai #dominik x reader #dominik szoboszlai x black reader #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold

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writing-with-sophia · 9 months

Text

Dialogues

Sad:

"I never thought I would end up alone, but here I am, drowning in loneliness."

"Sometimes the hardest part is pretending to be happy when all you want to do is cry."

"I trusted you with my heart, and you shattered it into a million irreparable pieces."

"The pain of losing you is unbearable. I can still hear your voice echoing in my mind."

"I thought we had forever, but forever turned out to be just a fleeting moment."

"I miss the person I used to be before life broke me."

"I wake up every morning hoping to find a reason to smile, but all I find is emptiness."

"I gave you my all, and you left me with nothing but a broken heart."

"In the end, all we had were shattered dreams and unspoken words."

"Sometimes, the saddest stories are the ones that are left untold."

"I built my world around you, only to watch it crumble to ashes."

"The tears I cry in solitude speak volumes of the pain I carry within."

"Love has become a bittersweet memory, a reminder of what could have been."

"I was once a flame, but now I am nothing more than a flickering ember."

"The silence between us is deafening, drowning out the love we once shared."

"I thought I knew what happiness was, but it slipped through my fingers like sand."

"The ache in my heart is a constant reminder of the love I lost."

"We were two broken souls, trying to heal each other, but instead, we only caused more pain."

"I am a prisoner of my own emotions, trapped in a never-ending cycle of sadness."

"The world keeps moving forward, but my heart remains stuck in the past."

"I long for a love that will never fade, for a connection that will never be severed."

"I thought I had found my forever, but forever turned out to be temporary."

"Every goodbye feels like a small death, a part of me fading away."

"The nights are the hardest, when the darkness matches the emptiness within my soul."

"The weight of my regrets is suffocating, a constant reminder of my failures."

"I am tired of pretending that I'm okay when all I want to do is fall apart."

"I used to believe in happy endings, but now I question if they exist at all."

"I am drowning in a sea of sadness, desperately searching for a lifeline."

"The world feels colorless, as if all the joy has been drained from my existence."

"I am surrounded by people, yet I have never felt more alone."

Happy:

"I can't believe we made it! Against all odds, we've achieved our dream."

"You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world, just by being by my side."

"This moment right here, with you, is pure bliss. I never want it to end."

"Remember when we used to dream about this? Now, it's a reality!"

"The world is full of possibilities, and together, we can conquer them all."

"Every time I see your smile, I'm reminded of how beautiful life can be."

"Today, I choose happiness, and I choose you to be a part of it."

"No matter what challenges we face, we'll overcome them together, hand in hand."

"I never thought I could feel this much joy until you came into my life."

"In your embrace, I've found my safe haven, my own little piece of paradise."

"Just being with you makes even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

"Life is a journey, and I'm grateful to have you as my favorite travel companion."

"You are the sunshine that brightens my darkest days. Thank you for being here."

"Let's dance like nobody's watching and savor every beat of this magical rhythm."

"I believe in us, in our love story. Our future is filled with endless happiness."

"With you, even the ordinary becomes extraordinary. Every day is an adventure."

"Love is the melody that fills our hearts, creating a symphony of pure joy."

"You complete me in ways I never knew were possible. Together, we are whole."

"The world may be chaotic, but in your arms, I find peace and tranquility."

"Let's chase our dreams fearlessly, for I know that with you, anything is possible."

"Life's challenges may come our way, but our love will always light the path ahead."

"I can't help but smile when I think about our future together. It's filled with endless possibilities."

"Every time I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of our love, and it fills me with pure happiness."

"You are my greatest cheerleader, always encouraging me to reach for the stars. I'm grateful for your unwavering support."

"In this journey called life, I'm grateful to have you as my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life."

"Together, we create a world that is filled with laughter, joy, and unconditional love."

"Thank you for loving me just the way I am. Your acceptance and love bring me boundless happiness."

"Let's celebrate every milestone, big or small, with laughter, hugs, and a toast to our beautiful journey."

"With you, I've found my happy place. It's not a location but a feeling, and it's with you wherever we go."

"The greatest adventure is loving you, and I'm excited to see where our love story takes us next."

Angry:

"I refuse to be treated like this. From now on, things are going to change, whether you like it or not."

"You've underestimated me for the last time. I'm about to show you just how strong I can be."

"You think you can just get away with everything? Well, I won't let you destroy me any longer."

"You've taken advantage of my kindness for far too long. Prepare to face my wrath."

"I won't stand by and let you manipulate everyone around you. Your games end here."

"You've hurt not only me but also everyone who cared about us. I won't let you get away with it."

"You've awakened a fire within me, and I promise you, it's a fire you won't be able to extinguish."

"You've shown me your true colors, and I'm disgusted by what I see. I want nothing to do with you anymore."

"Your actions have consequences, and I'm going to make sure you pay for what you've done."

"You think I'm weak? Well, get ready to witness the strength that comes from being pushed too far."

"I'm not going to let you ruin my life any longer. I'm taking back control, starting right now."

"You've broken my heart, and now you're going to feel the weight of my anger."

"You've manipulated everyone around you, but I see through your facade. Your reign of deception ends now."

"You've caused so much pain and destruction. I won't rest until justice is served."

"You thought you could destroy me, but you've only made me stronger. Brace yourself."

"I'm done playing nice. It's time for you to face the consequences of your selfish actions."

"You've pushed me to my limit, and now you're going to see just how fierce I can be."

"You've underestimated my resilience. I won't let you break me. I'll rise above it all."

"You've shown your true colors, and I'm cutting you out of my life for good."

"You've hurt the people I love, and for that, I'll make sure you regret it."

"You've betrayed my trust, and trust me, you'll regret the day you crossed me."

"You've played your games for far too long. Now it's my turn to play, and I guarantee you won't like the outcome."

"I can't believe you betrayed me like this! After everything we've been through!"

"You think you can just walk all over me? Well, think again because I'm done being your doormat."

"You've crossed the line, and now you're going to face the consequences of your actions."

"I trusted you, and you shattered that trust into a million pieces. I'll never forgive you."

"Don't you dare try to justify your behavior. There's no excuse for what you've done."

"I'm sick and tired of your lies and deceit. It's time for me to walk away for good."

"You've pushed me too far, and now you're going to see a side of me you never wanted to witness."

"You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Fear:

"The thought of losing control terrifies me. I'm afraid of the chaos that could ensue."

"I fear the consequences of my actions, of making the wrong choices. It keeps me awake at night."

"The fear of rejection stifles me. It makes me question my worth and keeps me from pursuing my dreams."

"I'm afraid of the monsters that dwell within me, the darkness that threatens to consume my soul."

"The fear of being vulnerable, of opening myself up to hurt, is overwhelming. It makes me want to retreat."

"I'm afraid of the past catching up with me, of the mistakes I've made coming back to haunt me."

"The fear of losing my loved ones keeps me up at night. I can't bear the thought of life without them."

"I'm afraid of losing myself, of not recognizing the person I've become. It fills me with terror."

"The fear of failure is like a constant weight on my shoulders. It makes me question my every move."

"I'm afraid of being forgotten, of fading into oblivion. The thought of being insignificant petrifies me."

"The fear of the supernatural, of things beyond our understanding, sends chills down my spine."

"I'm afraid of the future, of the uncertainty that lies ahead. It makes me question if I'll be able to cope."

"The fear of being judged, of not living up to others' expectations, is crippling. It stifles my true self."

"I'm afraid of losing my sanity, of the dark thoughts that haunt my mind. It's a constant battle within."

"The fear of losing control over my own life terrifies me. It feels like walking on a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster."

"I can't shake this feeling of impending doom. Something is not right."

"The darkness is closing in on me, and I feel paralyzed with fear."

"I'm terrified of what lies ahead. The unknown is haunting my every thought."

"I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I'm being watched."

"Every step I take is filled with trepidation. I'm afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows."

"My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. I'm consumed by a sense of dread."

"I fear that if I let my guard down, I'll be swallowed whole by the horrors that await."

"The fear of failure is suffocating me. It's paralyzing my every move."

"I'm afraid of losing everything I hold dear. The thought terrifies me to my core."

"The nightmares haunt me even when I'm awake. I can't escape the grip of fear."

"I'm afraid of being alone, of being forgotten by the world. It petrifies me."

"Every creak and whisper sends shivers down my spine. I'm on edge, afraid of what's lurking in the darkness."

"My mind is filled with irrational fears, consuming my every thought. I can't escape them."

"The fear of the unknown is paralyzing. I'm afraid of what I can't see or understand."

"I'm afraid of taking risks, of stepping outside my comfort zone. The fear holds me back."

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