#IMAGINE though if they didn’t and they think he’s ok now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liesonmytongues · 2 days ago

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Virgin!Steve Harrison x GN!Reader

Synopsis- Steve's been pretending to be a top notch player for years, but the truth is, he's still a virgin. You change that.

Warnings/CWs- this is very wholesome smut, lovey dovey sex, virginity loss, dub-con if you absolutely *squint*, love sick/pussy drunk men, Steve being embarrassed and guilty about jorking it to you, descriptions of masturbation

Word count- 4,000

When he was back in Hawkins, Steve had a reputation. Full of himself. A player. Always a girl on his hip– whether or not she was his girlfriend– always bragging about his game, about his sex life.

He would tell his friends about every escapade involving a new hot chick– basing his stories off of people he saw outside. A hot blonde at the mall would turn into a ‘Filthy slut who couldn't stop begging for it’, an innocent looking brunette outside the church into ‘a crazy bitch who wanted it rough’.

Steve would try not to get too serious with girls at the school for obvious reasons– couldn’t have anyone exposing him as a liar, now could he? But every so often someone would catch his eye. It was shameful– dangerous really –the way he would get these girls head over heels for him, manipulate them in one way or another so they wouldn’t ask about what Steve really didn’t want to think about.

It was a little different with Nancy– he really did like her, much more than those other girls who were just to keep up appearances. He didn’t want to manipulate her, didn’t want to treat her like she was just another chick in the crowd– so Steve came up with a different solution. One that still didn’t include actually having sex with her. He couldn't talk the talk without the chance of someone telling her, so his stories turned more into something like ‘I can't say, Nancy’s too shy– it was a crazy night though’, and the couple of times anyone questioned him, he would intimidate them into dropping it– easy enough.

But it didn't change the fact that Steve Harrington is a virgin.

For one reason or another, he never actually got around to getting his dick wet– and, in juxtaposition to his personality, it was usually because he just…kept chickening out. He would fantasize about it– stroking himself raw with some cheap toy while he tried to imagine the feeling of a real hole– but that was where it ended for him. Sad nights alone while he got off to his next story– and for a while that was fine! For a while Steve didn't need anything other than the life he had– sports and drinking and pretty girls, that satisfied him enough without hitting third base.

Then when Eleven and the monsters showed up, he didn't have time for sex– no time for fantasizing, or jealousy, or nervousness –just surviving. And babysitting a group of kids.

Everything he’d been saying– doing –the inadequacy he felt, was completely pushed to the back of his mind for the better part of 2 years. The first time it quieted down, after they saved that poor kid and things almost seemed like they were gonna go back to normal, Steve considered trying to…regress. He wanted to feel like nothing had even happened– he wanted that control back –didn’t want to admit that everything had changed for good. It hurt to know that even if things were ok now, it would never, ever be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. That’s what consumed him until the next time the demogorgons showed up– and that, plus the constant wondering of what the fuck else was in the world made it a little hard to get it up.

Steve tried once– kissing her, rubbing her clit through her panties, fingering her while he tried, tried so hard, to just make his stupid dick cooperate– and then he realized how stupid that was. He had this beautiful, half naked, moaning girl under him– this girl he was sure he loved –and he still couldn’t push himself past his nerves for long enough to fuck her.

Nancy tried 3 more times– all ending in Steve shakily, nervously, using his hands or mouth to make her cum while he was stuck in his own head. They broke up a few weeks after the last try, and he didn’t get any more chances before that…thing took them both.

Steve's first thought was that it was another creature made by the lab– that's where he found it, that's what it had to be, right? Some other failed, murderous experiment or alternate dimensional nightmare that he had to take the brunt of, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At first, that theory seemed right– the place they were taken looked just like the upside down’s version of Hawkins lab, with the same distant screaming from a demogorgon –but being shucked right off to ‘The camp’ was a good way to change his mind. There were other people there– too many for any type of hell Steve’s ever been to –and it seemed like they were ready to see him and Nance, a tall, scrawny guy greeting them with too much energy and too much understanding.

And the rest is history, right? For one reason or another, the thing known as the ‘entity’ wanted them there, along with a bunch of other ‘survivors’ and the things that have been torturing them for god knows how long.

You…make it a little more bearable. A little.

You welcomed Steve and Nancy better than a lot of the other survivors– and part of it was definitely to learn how to survive the demogorgon, you’d be stupid to pass up that opportunity ��making sure they knew what was going to happen with much less frantic, frightened energy than Dwight. You were a godsend really, and Steve feels like he owes you his life– no matter how many times he’s died here.

You were just friends– that's all. Forget about the way his heart and stomach feel like they’re sinking in on themselves every time he sees you, or the way he looks forward to the end of trials because that means more time to spend together, or how everything you say seems to be funny, or smart, or mind melting– all of that is just because you're a really good friend, and this place is messing with Steve's ability to see that.

Plus, spending every day around the ex who was your first love is a surefire way to confuse your brain. That's the rational Steve gave on the nights spent trying not to jerk himself off to something you did that day; the nights where he failed miserably, stuffing his hand on his mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds he made every time he came, and one was never enough; the nights Steve felt disgusting for what he considered violating you, sticky with his own cum and still not able to get you out of his head.

No, you’re just friends. And sometimes, when friends are in bad situations, it gets a little confusing. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, can’t make you look at him at a gross freak, can’t ruin your relationship– but it can make you suspicious.

Suspicious because Steve was acting weird, and he hadn’t even realized it– hadn’t realized that he hadn’t made eye contact with you in weeks. Honestly, he was pretty confident that his sneaking–away skills were honed to perfection– it’d worked on the demogorgons, who would have thought that it wouldn’t work on a person? Nevermind the fact that demogorgons don’t actually have eyes to see him with.

Your breaking point came around the same time every single trial with Steve started ending in a sacrifice.

You’d tried talking to him about it, and when that didn’t work, you tried talking to Nancy. From what you’d gathered, she’d been pretty good at mystery solving in Hawkins, and since she knew Steve so well, it seemed like your best bet…but you got nothing. No hint at anything that could have happened, nothing shared when you weren’t around about why he was so awkward all of a sudden, not so much as a complaint– leaving you to do everything yourself.

No way in hell were you going to confront him with all the other survivors around, that would just lead to even more awkwardness, and you couldn’t handle that– not with everything else –but you did need to confront him. You couldn’t work together, your entire relationship was strained, and if you couldn’t find some sort of way to resolve this…tension, you were going to explode and make this whole issue even worse.

But maybe in hindsight, sneaking up on him in his cabin wasn't the best idea either. In your defense, you had no idea about his hopeless pining, and with your annoyance clouding your better judgment, it seemed like the only way to finally get him talking. And really, that had been your plan! The whole walk there you’d been thinking of just the right words to get across exactly what you wanted to say– stay calm, tell him how you feel, tell him what needed to change. It was your plan, until the moment you knocked on the door – and heard Steve moan your name at the same time.

It took a second to process what you heard, to be pulled –punched, really– out of the concentration and anger that had fueled this whole trip and really hear it for what it was, but by then there was a whole other reason you were distracted. Steve slammed open the door, flushed and sweaty, panting like a whore and looking at you with the widest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You– It’s not–! It’s not what it looks like!” Steve stumbled over his words in an attempt to get them out as fast as possible, to convince you somehow that you hadn’t heard what you just heard– convince you not to turn around and leave and never speak to him again.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry– I promise I can explain! I–”

“Inside.”

“What–”

“Inside.”

If someone asked you, it would be hard to tell them why you did what you did– shoving Steve Harrington inside his cabin was a split second decision, kissing him was another, dropping everything you’d wanted to say was a third. Maybe it was because you were so tense– it’s not easy to live like this, god knows there’s not much time for sex of all things –the rush of emotions, the shock, maybe it was because he just looked so debauched with his face red and his lips parted the way they were. Fuck, maybe it’s just because he finally looked at you again.

It didn’t really matter what it was though, did it? Not when he moaned like that, like he was starving for you, as soon as your hands were on him.

He hadn’t gotten to finish, that much was clear from how his cock was pressed twitching to your thigh– leaking a sticky patch of precum where he’d haphazardly shoved himself back into his jeans before opening the door.

“Wait– wait!” Steve pushed you back by the hips, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in deep, sharp breaths. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it was obvious how hesitant it was.

“What–” You mirrored his confusion from earlier,

“I’ve never…done this before.” He gestured vaguely downwards, and when you followed the movements to his groin, his cock visibly throbbed.

“You’ve…never had sex? You’re a virgin?” And with that he’s right back to not looking at you– flushed even brighter than before and staring down the floorboards like they did this, like they made him hard, made you find him moaning your name, made you come inside and made him admit what he didn’t even admit to Nancy. But he feels…better. His erection has flagged a little just from the shame of the situation, but it’s not like before– when the second someone tried to have sex with him, he stopped being able to get it up at all.

“Yeah.” He breathed, loosening the grip on your waist– as if being a virgin of all things would mean you wouldn’t want him.

“Is that…all?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I’ve only ever used my mouth, I don’t know if I’m gonna be any good…” The skin of his neck was shiny with perspiration, a droplet of sweat dripping down his jaw and fucking christ you want to lick it off–

“No? I don't care how much experience you have Steve–fuck, don't you know what you do to me?” His eyes flicked down to your groin and you could feel the shudder that passed through him–hear it too, if that quivering, breathy sigh was anything to go off. You were caught off guard when Steve suddenly yanked you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face into the crook of your neck–taking deep breaths, inhaling your scent while he tried to ground himself.

Less caught off guard when he pulled you in for another kiss, mashing your lips and noses together in a type of desperation that can only come from a man who's been hard for the last hour– tongue worming it's way between your lips, only pulling away long enough to breathe hot puffs of air against your face.

You didn’t protest when he pulled you back towards his bed, or when you felt him turn you around, your calves hitting the mattress only a few moment before the rest of you, falling into the old raggedy blankets and grunting when Steve climbs on top of you–because he just refuses to let go of your body for even a second, grinding his cock to your thigh in slow strokes while he tries his hardest to devour you.

“Fuck– you mean it?” He shifts to kissing your jaw–just as rough as your lips–so you can respond, murmuring variations of your name and ‘please’ and ‘say it’.

“Yeah, I mean it.” It comes out breathy and desperate, but god, there’s not a single world where you could bring yourself to care with such a pretty man looking equally as debauched above you. He gets a panicked look on his face barely a second before his hands shoot down to his jeans, ripping them open with enough force to audibly pop a thread, pulling his boxers down and gripping his cock painfully. You have half a mind to ask him what he’s doing–what was that look for? Is something wrong? Is he already done with the foreplay?–but only get about as far as parting your lips before Steve makes a pained noise, halfway between a moan and a sob, and is cumming over the front of your shirt. Thick strands accompanied by choked groans as he tries to make it stop, frantically muttering ‘no!’ under his breath again and again.

You shouldn’t be surprised–you aren’t surprised, not really–but it’s still sudden enough to make your eyes bulge a little more with every spurt. Which, of course, Steve notices immediately– flushing with shame instead of arousal and covering his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Jesus– fuck! I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what happened–” He’s spiraling is what you distantly realize, but you’re too caught up with the fact that he just came from being told you were into him. So caught up, in fact, that the only way you can think to really calm him down is smashing his face back into yours. You have his hair between your fingers before he can utter another distraught apology, and he’s right back to melting into you.

You don’t stop him when Steve’s hands move to your pants, taking them off with much less frenzy than his own. His cock had barely softened, and when your underwear was down far enough that he finally caught a glimpse of your body, it gave a hard twitch–already raring to go a second time. God knows if it’s because it’s you or just the situation, but you can hope.

Steve looks back and forth between your hole and your stained shirt for a moment, before with two fingers, he scoops his own cum off your shirt, pressing them inside your hole achingly slowly–like he’s scared that giving them to you how you want will break you. He seems mesmerized by the way each knuckle sinks deeper, spreading you open on his fingers while his spend pushes back–oozing out before he shoves it back in again.

“Fuck– you’re so tight, so warm…” The way he's looking at you is near–reverent, huffing out a breath every time you squeeze and practically moaning when he can’t go any deeper.

“Don’t you wanna feel that–hah–around your cock? Give your body what it wants?” You were panting as much as Steve at this point, sighing and moaning softly every time he found just the right spot to focus on.

“Don't say that kind of thing!” He whined, breaking eye contact for a second so he could lean over and open his mouth, letting some spit dribble onto your hole to aid the way while his fingers sped up–trying to spread you open faster so his poor, angry looking cock could get some relief. Real relief–not just cumming in his pants like a…y'know, like a virgin.

Still bent over, Steve used his free arm to cage you underneath him–forcing your legs up and around his waist at the same time so he could keep up the rhythm. You could feel your body starting to ease open, just barely loose enough for him to put in a third finger and spread them inside you. It felt fantastic, but you could almost be fooled into thinking that he was the one feeling it–almost as noisy from just the sensation of your walls around his thick, rough fingers.

It wasn’t quite enough to make you cum, not without any other stimulation, but his enthusiasm turned you on like nothing else. He gave a few more thrusts, fingers spread out as much as possible in a last ditch attempt to prep you before he lost it.

“I’m sorry- I need it, you have no idea-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just put it in, please.” A mix of Steve’s pre and cum and spit eased the way as he gripped his cock at the base and finally started pushing it forward–squeezing tight to try and keep himself from coming any faster than he already would. He only managed to get the tip inside before he had to pause, shutting his eyes with a desperate, shuddering moan–nuzzling his face into your chest while his free hand glided away from its death-grip on the sheets, opting instead for holding your head, threading your hair over his palm until he had enough to tug.

You could feel his fat, leaky cockhead throb–the vibration of another moan spreading through your chest before his hips jerked enough to force another couple of inches inside you. And it hurt, it did, that same string and stretch that always came with having something new inside you, but he was just so perfect that you couldn’t focus on it. You’d noticed before how pretty he was below the belt–and it really showed now.

God, maybe you really have just gone that long without getting laid, but Steve’s dick filled you better than you can ever remember being filled. Better than your fingers, better than any toy for the sheer amount of emotion and connection, better than the vague snippets of your last fucks from years ago now.

Steve pulled himself off of your chest after a minute, taking deep breaths and scrunching up his face in concentration–then another minute before he manages to let go of his shaft and push the rest of the way inside. The moan he gives you is borderline pornographic when he bottoms out, hot enough to–along with the feeling of his stomach pressing against your groin–have you moaning with him.

His thrusts have no real rhythm, no actual skill, just the sloppiness that shows exactly how inexperienced he really is–and equally how desperate he is for you. There’s no rhyme or reason to how he chases the feeling, but somehow he still manages to tease your orgasm–to rut his sensitive cock in all the right places to make it feel good instead of annoying.

“I’m not gonna- hah, oh god- not gonna last. Christ you feel so good- you’re so perfect, you’re perfect- I love you.” Your attention was immediately snapped away from his hips up to his face, where he was staring at you with those big brown eyes–again the puppy analogy comes to mind–and the most of an emotion besides fear you’ve seen in a long time.

“Can I- ngh -cum on your stomach? Please?” It's hard to tell if he even realizes that he just said he loves you, and he's not giving you any time to process it with the way his thrusts are speeding up–just barely able to keep his cock from slipping out through his frantic movements. And it was so lewd, so wet and slick and loud–blocking out everything else except the moaning right in front of your face.

Steve was putting everything into making you feel good–fighting back his orgasm while whispering harsh ‘please, please, please’ under his breath, along with a slurred approximation of your name and those frankly beautiful, desperate hitches of breath. Your body fought to accommodate the way he sped up, battering your walls in a way that juxtaposed his confession a minute ago.

“Yes, yes cum on me, cum on me baby- fuck-” You barely managed to finish your sentence before Steve was pulling out, curling his body over you and trembling while his cock throbbed against your stomach–followed by another moan that could only be described as burning, aching, and the first shot of hot, sticky fluid on your skin, cumming so hard it managed to reach your collar, sticking to his own chest in the process and dripping down onto the sheets. His noises didn’t stop for nearly a full minute, whimpering and whining while you murmured sweet words, trying to ease him down from his high.

That’s all you expected from him–as sweet as he could be, he’s still a man from the 80’s–which is why you were surprised when he didn’t just slump over and leave you to deal with the painful way your arousal licked at your stomach, begging for relief.

You weren’t sure what to think of the way Steve climbed down the bed–until he latched his mouth to your groin, sucking and licking and taking you into his mouth, as much as he could fit at once. It took him a second, but he turned his eyes up to you, lidded and high from endorphins, giving him a lovesick, fucked out look that only served to turn you on more. And the way he kept moaning, groaning and scrunching his face up like he was the one feeling it–like you were the one fucking him with your mouth, desperate to make him cum.

And it was desperate–not a thought inside his head, only driven by the feral need to make you feel as good as he did. How could you ever not comply?

It barely took another minute of the sloppy, needy working of his tongue before you were cumming too, and Steve lapped up everything, like everything you were giving him was a gift that he needed to take, refusing to let even a drop go to waste. Distantly, in the middle of feeling like your vision was going to white out, you could feel another few drops leak out of his twitching cock, milking himself dry just from the taste of you.

He wrapped his arms around your thigh when you pried his head away, resting his face on your hip so he could keep pressing soft kisses to your skin. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t in his right mind–tired and euphoric and fucked stupid–but you let him stay, wiping his messy hair away from his forehead and petting at his nape.

“Was it…good?” He murmured, glancing up at you again.

“Christ, do you really have to ask?” He kept looking at you, blinking slowly–waiting. “Yeah. It was really good.” And he nods, sighing against your skin–then a choking sound when you followed it up with ‘I love you too’.

#stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight

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dallasgallant · 2 months ago

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Soda started to sleep with Pony because his nightmares got so bad after their mom and dad died, it started as something temporary but then he was relied on. He doesn’t even flinch anymore if Pony whines or shakes, he just tossed his arm over his brother and pulls him close again. And it helps.

It’s become almost mundane, they happen a whole lot less than they had at the beginning. Pony mentions that if they do happen they aren’t as bad to wake Soda, so he just snuggles close and tries to get back to sleep.

#don’t get me wrong i do like some angst in this regard #but there’s something about how it’s become sort of routine and how they’ve LESSENED/STOPPED after having soda with him #that’s so sweet and if anything opens up angst for when they’re apart etc idk #IMAGINE though if they didn’t and they think he’s ok now #you just see your little brother in tighty whiteys like 🧍‍♂️ in the doorway lmao #the outsiders #outsiders #outsiders book #outsiders novel #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #soda the outsiders #ponyboy the outsiders #details

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nezuscribe · 3 months ago

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part one

ok imagine it’s one of those nights that you’re down at the dining hall eating dinner, unsure if you should say something to your supposed husband, gojo.

it’s been a couple of weeks that you’ve started eating together, and you’re not sure what spurred his change of heart.

you talk a lot when it’s awkward or when you’re trying to fill a silence and so you let it slip that it was never supposed to be him you married.

“what?” he said, his fork raised midair as you blink owlishly at his confusion.

“what?” you parrot back, taking a sip of some wine as his bright blue eyes stare back intently at yours. he’s so pretty that it’s unfair.

“what do you mean?” he leans forward a bit, his fingers locking in front of him, “who else would you have married?”

your tongue clicks against the roof of your moth as you shrug in embarrassment, laughing uncomfortably. your mother (though she hates it when you call her that, not wanting to be associated with the bastard daughter her husband, your father, brought back all those years ago) would be livid if she heard of your slip up.

“oh, nothing, um, i don’t even know what i was talking about,” you chuckle lowly, moving some peas around on your plate.

you can still feel his burning stare on the side of your head, knowing that he won’t stop until you tell him.

“it’s nothing, really,” you mutter, glancing up to look at him, “but before this proposal came i was supposed to marry this other…man,” you wince thinking of the man who initially proposed to you, his slimy smile, the way he looked at you like nothing more than a vessel to carry his heir.

“who?” gojo presses, not noticing the way his jaw was clenching or subconsciously looking at the gold ring around your finger, one he haphazardly picked, but now wonders what it would look like if another man wed you.

why is he so jealous?

he already knows the answer, the time he heard you crying to your maid seated into his memory. he’s not sure why he wants you to say it, why he even wants to hear it.

you swallow thickly, heat rising to your cheeks as you glance over at gojo.

“naoya…naoya zenin? i dont know if you’ve heard-”

“i know naoya,” gojo said curtly, watching the way you cringed at his tone.

a heavy beat of silence washed over the two of you.

“are you happy you didn’t marry him?” gojo asks suddenly, poking at this question that’s been suffocating him for nearly a month.

you tilt your head slightly, your eyes piercing his, squinting as you try to gauge what he’s feeling at the moment. he notices that you do that a lot, especially with him.

“are you happy you married me?” you counter, and watch as a his eyes shift, darkening for a second as he glances away from you.

happy? he’s not sure. he’s rarely been truly happy in his life, everything he’s done has had a purpose, even this marriage served a purpose, but he’s more than glad you didn’t marry that zenin.

but he takes too long to answer, watching the small sad smile that overtakes your face, confirming the thoughts you’ve been riddled with since you married him.

you excuse yourself for the night.

gojo stays in his seat, twirling his ring around his finger.

fuck.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #arranged!gojo

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piastrixpole · 26 days ago

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tattoo my heart - carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x tattoo artist!reader

genre: smau

faceclaim: maggie lindemann

liked by charlesleclerc, carlossainz, landonorris and 838,213 others

f1: it’s a paddock debut here at COTA for the smooth operator’s new body art

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charlesleclerc: looking good mate😉 didn’t think you’d actually go through with it

carlossainz: a bets a bet🙂↕️

landonorris: save a horse🤤

carlossainz: aye cabrón not in public

pierluigi_della_bonna: caliente chili🌶️

user1: god he looks so good with tattoos

user2: fell to my knees in a walmart when they showed them on the broadcast

user3: he is THE Ferrari driver of all time tbh like just look at him😭 he’s like a walking ad (no hate to Charles ofc!!)

scuderiaferrari: that’s our driver🌶️

liked by yourbsf, oliviarodrigo, calumhood and 15,113 others

yntattoo: in honour of race week I’m doing a new f1 themed flash at 50% off this weekend❤️

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oliviarodrigo: gorgeous gorgeous girl💜you’re making me want a tattoo

-> yntattoo: omg please!! it would be an honour my love💜

calumhood: these are sick yn! will need to come and see you again soon

-> yntattoo: cal!! you better

user12: the Ferrari ones?? ok im obsessed😍

user17: making an appointment as we speak

user14: oh to be going to COTA so I could also get tattooed by yn sigh😭

user9: omg imagine if she was the one to tattoo carlos user55

messages

tiktok

transcript:

“carlos you surprised everyone in the paddock this weekend with your new look, what can you tell us about it.”

“well i have been thinking about getting one for a long time and a friend of mine knew a girl who was running a special on f1 tattoos for this weekend so i called over and she did an amazing job.”

“charles, will you be following in your teammates footsteps any time soon?”

“definitely not. carlos of course looks very good but I do not think I could pull it off as well as he does.”

“aye that’s not true cabron, I think a full scale on your chest would be quite eye catching…”

oliviarodrigo posted a story!

(pic 1: best day with my girls tattoyn, yourbsf) (pic 2: 🏎️)

liked by oliviarodrigo, yourbsf, scuderiaferrari and 27,390 others

yntattoo: forza ferrari sempre❤️🏎️ thank you for inviting me scuderiaferrari

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scuderiaferrari: so happy to have you with us❤️you’ll have to come back and give all the team matching tats

-> yntattoo: say less admin🤭❤️

yourbsf: hottieee😍 had the most amazing time with you

-> yntattoo: love you so much girl

oliviarodrigo: ferrari girls🏎️✨

alexandrasaintmleux: it was so lovely to meet you girls❤️

-> yntattoo: you too Alex!!

twitter

carlossainz posted a story!

Replies…

charlesleclerc: finally got the girl?😉

-> you know it mate

yourbsf: take care of my girl

-> I promise Bella

alexandrasaintmleux: that’s MY wife!!

-> stop trying to steal her from me you have Charles

liked by carlospriv, yourbsf, alexpriv, charlespriv, livpriv and 72 others

ynpriv: my man my man my man my man my man my man (ps the tramp stamp is fake…for now🫣)

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yourbsf: iconic, legendary, never been done before

->ynpriv: that’s you💋

alexpriv: my ferrari wifey❤️🥰

->ynpriv: run away with me xx

carlossainz: princesa❤️

->ynpriv: love u papi😼

charlesleclerc: can you give me the tramp stamp next win?

->ynpriv: I’ll hold you to that leclerc

messages

📍mexico

liked by carlossainz, charlesleclerc, yourbsf, oliviarodrigo and 100,346 others yntattoo: who would have though a tattoo appointment would bring me you❤️ congratulations mi amor

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yourbsf: making me believe in love again

oliviarodrigo: omg you’re the mystery girlfriend and not me whaaat!?!

->yntattoo: wait no i thought it was you??

carlossainz: gracias mi amor❤️ couldn’t have done it without you by my side

->yntattoo: ❤️

user33: yn is really living my dream life huh tattooing carlos sainz and then ending up as his girlfriend

user50: wattpad protagonist vibe

user27: I wonder if carlos is gonna get more tattoos from her??

->user92: he shouldn’t be with someone messy and skanky like her, she’s not Ferrari girlfriend material…

liked by landonorris, yntattoo, scuderiaferrari

carlossainz: my good luck charm

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landonorris: the other woman🎶

->yntattoo: hands off my man norris I will punt you into the sun

yntattoo: panties fell off at the sight of you on the top step🤤

->user3: YN??

->user12: i know ferrari pr are screaming rn

->scuderiaferrari: yn🫣👀 training being scheduled as we speak

->yntattoo: boooo!! they hated me for being right😔

#abby's writing #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #formula 1 fanfic #cs55 #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader

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drefear · 1 year ago

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i saw u needed some idea and lemme just say: ex's dad!miguel o'hara

…oh fuck yes.

Tw: cheating, p in v, age gap,

He cheated. He fucking cheated with your roommate. And now here you were, standing in a long dress at his cousin’s wedding two months later. His cousin invited you because you two became close friends, but seeing him bring your old roommate, laughing with her in front of everyone while you didn’t even bring a plus one sucked.

You look up in the mirror as you tap some cold water on the back of your neck, nervous again after seeing him kiss her cheek and then make eye contact with you.

Most of the ceremony is a blur as you can barely focus on anything but keeping your breathing even. Once it’s over, you bee-line for the open bar and quickly down a shot of vodka before hissing at the burn and reaching for a lemon or lime, anything to help with the taste.

Your arm hits something hard and you feel the front of your dress become soaked as you glance to the side to see your ex boyfriend’s father looking down at where his Old Fashioned spilled on your torso. The syrup-sticky-feeling starts to sink in as you feel gross, groaning and imagining how you must look.

“Dios, I’m so sorry.” He apologized and sighs, “this is not the way I wanted to say hello.”

“It’s ok.” You nod and sigh. “I think the bridal suite has a shower in the bathroom.”

“Let me try to clean the dress while you rinse off, yeah?” He asks and you agree, walking together in silence to the bridal suite. As he opens the door for you, he speaks. “I’m sorry about what happened with my son. He’s young, can’t hold onto the good things in his life right now.”

“Sounds like you want to get us back together.” You chuckle, though it feels dry in your throat. “Mr. O’Hara, it’s ok. It wasn’t meant to be.” You deadpan and he gives you an apologetic look, almost pity.

You head into the bathroom and as you begin to shut the door, a hand catches the knob and pushes it open once more. “Do you need help with the zipper?” His voice gets lower as he asks and you turn to see him coming closer, not even fully answering before he forces you around to look in the mirror and starts unzipping the dress. His breath is hot in your ear as he whispers, “my son doesn’t know how to keep a sexy, smart woman.” His words make you shiver as his fingers trance symbols on your back and down to your thong. “Tell me when to stop.”

“Don’t stop.” You reply and he smirks in the mirror at you, watching your eyes flutter closed as he dips his hands into the front of your underwear and rub small circles around your clit.

“Let me taste this pussy, cariño. Wanted to since the first day he brought you home.” He mumbles into your hair and lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the sink, spreading your legs and putting your knees on his shoulders as he groans at the sight of your already wet pussy. “God damn, you even smell good.”

With that, his tongue licks a stripe over your pussy, pushing your thong to the side and flicking his tongue between your folds. Your moan and lean backwards against the mirror as he grinds his nose into your clit, your legs jolting from the sudden feeling. “Good girl, let out those sounds… let me hear you moan, so sweet for me…” his comments make you thrust into his face and make him laugh deeply, then beginning to push his tongue in and out of you at a faster pace.

“Cum on my face.” He instructs you and you oblige, shaking and almost screaming from pleasure. “Good girl.”

It wasn’t your wedding night, but you still celebrated.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel #angst

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weirdmageddon · 1 year ago

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i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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gothcsz · 3 months ago

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imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself.

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work.

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all.

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend.

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money.

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him, gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming.

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you.

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

#javier pena smut #javier peña smut #pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #📞 next caller!

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miley1442111 · 9 months ago

Text

safe- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (1.4k + words)

summary: you become an unsubs target

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, knives, stitches, head wounds, trauma talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, etc.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you stood, your own blood as well as another's blood all over your body.

What happened?

You were just leaving work, you were going to pick up Jack and Ellie on your way home. It was taco night, you three would cook together tonight, though since Aaron was on a case a few states over, you would be the only ones doing it. So, how did that exact same unsub get to you?

You sat in the ambulance, stitches going into your skin, but you weren’t even flinching, you didn’t even feel it. You knew Jack and Ellie were expecting you, so was Jessica.

“Can I make a phone call?” You whispered to the paramedic. She nodded her head, sympathy on her face. “Thank you.”

You pulled out your phone as she finished the stitches in your head, moving onto the ones in your arms.

“Hey Jess,” You sighed into the phone.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked. “Do you want me to take Jack and Ellie for the night?”

You could honestly cry at her generosity. “Yes please, thank you so much Jess.”

“No problem,” she smiled, worried from the other line. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.

“I’ll be ok, someone just… yeah,’ you sighed. “Tell Jack and Ellie I love them, yeah?”

“Always.”

You hung up. The paramedic finished up and the officer who had been sitting with you for the past few minutes escorted you to a squad car and brought you to the station, informing you that the FBI were on their way. The FBI, really? Surely it wasn’t Aaron, right?

God, you missed Aaron. You’d never wanted to see him more in your life. Just to know he was ok, that he was there.

Such luxuries could not be afforded at that current moment.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron sat beside David on the plane, exhaustion pulling at his eyes as Spencer read out the latest attack.

“Oh, apparently there was one survivor,” Spencer said. “That might be his next target.”

“We should look into them, what’s the name?” David asked as Aaron yawned.

“Y/n Y/l/n, she has a son, daughter, and husband,” Spencer said, and Aaron was wide-awake again.

“Pardon?” He asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

“Y/n Y/l/n. She was beaten pretty badly and had a head wound and a stab to the arm, she’s at the station now. SHe agreed to a cognitive interview. She’s a professor of nuclear physics at a university nearby-” Spencer reads off.

“She has more pHds than boy genius, 5 and counting,” Penelope interrupts him from the screen.

“Well, she is older than me,” he stressed, attempting to keep some of his pride.

“By what, 4 years?” Emily snorted, the rest of the team laughed, but Aaron was frozen.

A head wound? You got stabbed? He felt faint. Immediately, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, trying to call you.

You didn’t pick up.

He tried again as the team stared at him in bewilderment. What was he doing?

No answer again.

“Sir-”

“I want a profile before we leave this plane,” he ordered and the team all stared at him. “Is that too much for you?” He asked snarkily. They all shook their heads and began breaking off into groups to work. Aaron stayed seated, a million thoughts running through his head at once. Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? How much blood did you lose? Was the unsub already on his way to you again? Were you a target because of him?

“Hotch I think we have something,” Morgan stated after 30 minutes. “The unsub is targeting women with the same description as the survivor. I'd say he’s a college student who is jealous of her husband. He’s formed a parasocial relationship and obsession with her and his delusions have led him to hurt those closest to her. It makes sense she’s beautiful, described as being extremely kind and caring about her students, she’s ridiculously intelligent, and apparently she and her husband are madly in love with each other. What’s her husband’s name Pen?” Derek asked, looking at the computer.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said, a gasp following her words. Aaron looked up, meeting the eyes of the team as they stared back, shocked.

He could deal with them later.

“Send police to Jessica's house,” he ordered before he got up to go to the back of the plane for a moment of peace. He took out his phone, dialling Jessica’s number.

“Hey, is Y/n ok?” She asked. “I have Jack and Ellie right now, are you with her?”

“Not yet, I’ve sent police to your house, just as extra protection, ok?”

“Alright Aaron. Take care of her when you see her, she seemed pretty shaken.”

“Course,” he gritted out and hung up. This was going to be difficult.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in an office, a cop’s jacket strung over your shaking shoulders. You were still covered in blood, you still saw the horrible image of one of your students being killed in front of you.

Where was Aaron?

“Can I go and clean up?” You sniffled, asking the sheriff who was sitting at his desk beside you.

“Course sweetheart,” she smiled softly. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, if you want a shower there’s one in the training centre.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling smaller than you ever had. You were told to be careful with your stitches and that you’d be brought into the hospital in the morning once all of the stuff with the station was over. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at your bloodstained face and clothes. The tears started falling, going down the drain with a red-tinge.

You grabbed some tissue, wet it, and started scrubbing your face. The ache of your body was nothing to the turmoil in your head. Was it your fault one of your students was killed? Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? Was Aaron ok?

You didn’t even notice him coming behind you until he took the tissue out of your hand. He discarded it, damped the towel from his go-bag in his hand, lightly washing your face. Tears fell freely as he did so, but he wiped them away, a comforting hand on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clean cheek. He continued his gentle cleaning, bringing it down to your neck.

“I’m sorry too.”

He smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Neither do you, but we do it anyway.”

His emotions became too much all of a sudden, the feeling of nearly losing you becoming unthinkable.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

After Aaron sufficiently cleaned as much of the blood off of you as he could, he took your blood-stained shirt off and replaced it with one of his extra dress shirts. Walking outside the bathroom, you felt eyes on the both of you. You recognised some of the team from stories and photos Aaron had shown you. They stared as Aaron wrapped you into his side and walked you back into the sheriff’s office.

“I want the kids,” you admitted. “I know we shouldn’t but I’m so worried that they're not ok,” you cried into his bicep as he sat beside you.

“I’ll send one of the team to grab them and Jess,” he nodded.

“Please don’t leave,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life. You needed him.

“Of course not, honey,” he soothed. He signalled for Derek to come in. He walked in, careful of your feelings. “Will you go to Jessica’s house and pick up Jessica, Jack, and Ellie?”

“Of course sir, but… who’s Ellie?” he whispered the last part.

“My daughter,” Aaron said and Derek went wide-eyed.

“I’ll be right back with them,” he promised.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Darling, do you feel up to telling me about it? Or even just something?" he whispered against your skin.

"I know who did it," you whispered back. You felt such guilt. You knew the unsub, he was one of your students Andrew. Andrew was obsessed with you, with your life, but you just took it as a student being interested in your life to get out of work. You didn't pay enough care to the way his interest dampened when you spoke about Aaron and when you talked about your anniversaries or dates.

"Honey-"

"His name's Andrew. He's in my chemical sciences class."

Aaron was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll send officers his way."

"I'm so stupid, I didn't even realise-" you started but Aaron shushed you with a gentle kiss.

"Don't talk about my wife like that," he joked. You chuckled softly and he felt a sense of great accomplishment.

"I'm so glad you're here," you sighed into his neck.

"I'm so glad I'm here too."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're married?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Aaron admitted as he ran a hand through your hair as you lay on his lap asleep, Ellie and Jack playing by the sheriff's desk.

`'And you have another child," Penelope said, shock apparent in her voice and facial expression.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"I wanted to keep her safe," Aaron smiled. "I also just assumed you'd figure it out. Clearly you're not all as good as you think you are," he chuckled.

The team collectively rolled their eyes, but still smiled. Aaron was happy, you were safe, another unsub was awaiting jail, and they could almost feel the love radiating off of Aaron.

All was well.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

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arieslost · 9 months ago

Note

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

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catherinnn · 1 month ago

Note

Ok, I have a cute/silly fic request:

Can I get a story where everyone in Hellfire club knows that the reader and Eddie have feelings for each other, so they each come up their own plans to get them together (whether or not Erica is included in this I'll leave up to you). It seems as though each of their plans fail, until they see reader and Eddie out on a date together. They all get so excited that they were successful that the reader and Eddie don't have the heart to tell them they've actually been dating for a while and wanted to wait before telling them. So they just let them believe it was all them.

The Plan Totally Worked!

a/n: Thank you for requesting again babe, i hope you enjoy this! I'm catching up with requests now that have more free time, so if anyone has any, please feel free to write me!

words: 1k

masterlist

“Guess who?” you felt two hands cover your eyes as you were at your locker.

Behind you stands Eddie smirking with a confused Dustin by his side. They were discussing which Lord of the Rings book is their favorite and why, when Eddie ran up to you as soon as he saw you, forgetting all about their topic.

“It’s easy to guess when you’re the one wearing a billion rings” you tease him. He moves his hands as you turn around.

“I forgot you were so smart” he says, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Hey boys” you greet them.

“Hi sweetheart, you look very pretty today” Eddie gives you the cutest grin.

“Hi” Dustin greets you, still pondering about the change of demeanor Eddie suddenly had when he saw you.

“Yeah, obviously he likes her,” Lucas says. “you actually never noticed how flirty and playful he gets when he sees her?”

“Yeah, I mean they do flirt constantly. But they’re still just friends, aren’t they?” Dustin thinks.

“Yeah, I think so” Mike agrees.

“Do you think she likes him too?” Dustin asks.

“She wouldn’t flirt back as much as she does if she didn’t. I say she does” Lucas says as if he’s a relationship expert, which makes Mike roll his eyes.

“Why do we even care?” he asks.

“They’re our friends, and obviously they are too chicken to make a move! We have to help them!” Dustin says, feeling very motivated.

They begin brainstorming a series of plans to get the two of you together.

Like the secret date:

Dustin invited you to meet him at an ice cream shop, he said the rest of the group were coming as well. He also asked you to dress up nice which sounded very random.

Funny enough, none of the guys could make it, only Eddie, who was just as confused as you. Either way, you ordered your ice creams and sat at a table together.

The three boys were watching from the other side of the window of the place, giving each other high fives since the plan seemed to work. That’s when they see Steve and Robin also entering the ice cream shop and joining you two, ruining your ‘date’.

What the boys didn’t know is that since Dustin had told you they were all coming, you also took the liberty to invite Steve and Robin, thinking that you’ll have a nice afternoon all together.

Since that didn’t seem to work, they had to move to plan B:

“Wayne’s birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” Dustin asks Eddie in the middle of lunch.

“Yeah, it is. How did you know?”

“I just remembered you mentioned it… Do you know what to get him?” Dustin acts.

“Like a gift? I was thinking maybe a new hat or another mug” Eddie shrugs.

“Oh come on, that is so bad!” Dustin says and Eddie frowns. “You could do something more meaningful, like bake him a cake!”

When Dustin says that you choke on your drink. “Sorry, I just imagined Eddie baking” you say laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t know what caused the impression that I could ever bake a cake for someone, but it is far from the reality” Eddie tells Dustin.

“Well, why don’t you help him? You like baking, don’t you?” Dustin asks you.

“Yeah, sometimes” you say.

“That’s perfect! And it’s a much better gift!” Dustin sells it.

“It would be a nicer gift than just another hat” you agree.

“You’ll help me? Because I’m lost if I have to do it alone” Eddie asks you.

“Of course I’ll help, I’ll come over to your after school” you say and Eddie nods.

Dustin thinks this is it, there is no way that this didn’t work. He can imagine you telling Eddie how to do everything and then helping him because he’s just not doing it right. Maybe Eddie gets playful and starts teasing you, putting flour on your face and then a battle starts where you end up all messy. Maybe the giggles stop and you realize you’re very close together and then you can’t hide it anymore and you finally kiss.

So, just imagine his surprise when the next day, he doesn’t see you two kissing by your locker when he gets to school. Instead, he finds you two chatting as casual as ever.

“So… how did the baking go?” he asks.

“Really good, she bossed me around all afternoon but we ended up with a decent cake. Wayne loved it” Eddie says.

“Oh, that easy?” Dustin asks, surprised.

“Well, when you have a professional chef helping, it’s easy enough” Eddie teases you.

“Oh shut up, he was surprisingly good too. Maybe it was the motivation he had to then eat the cake” you say.

“It was amazing” Eddie nods.

“That’s good news” Dustin says, still disappointed. “Hey, I was gonna say… you look really nice today” he tells you.

“Aw, thanks-”

“Doesn’t she look nice, Eddie?” Dustin pushes him.

“Uh, yeah. Well, she always does” he says, confused.

“Dude, leave it alone. If it didn’t happen already after all those tries, it’s not gonna happen” Lucas tells Dustin. The two of them are on their bikes, on their way to Mike’s. “Hey, isn’t that Eddie’s van?” He sees it parked in front of a restaurant.

“Oh, yeah, it is! Is he in this place? It seems fancy!”

When they peek in the window they find the two of you cuddled up. You seemed to be chatting and giggling until you kissed.

“Wow! It worked! The plan totally worked!” Dustin cheers.

“Holy shit man! It totally did!”

If they only knew what was actually happening inside the restaurant:

“Happy anniversary, princess” Eddie smiles at you.

“Happy anniversary, baby. I can’t believe it’s been a year already!” you say pleased.

"So... you two have anything you would like to share?" Dustin asks you on Monday at lunch.

“The best year of my life” he flirts before kissing you, he really gets all mushy and corny when you’re alone. You decided to not be those kinds of couples that make out or cuddle in front of all their friends, avoiding PDA as much as you could to not make anyone uncomfortable.

"Umm... no?" you say, confused.

"We can tell us, we saw you two lovebirds!" Lucas chimes in.

"Saw us where?" Eddie asks, just as confused.

"On your date last Friday!"

"Oh yeah, we had dinner" Eddie smiles.

"My plan totally worked!" Dustin says.

"Hey! I helped too!" Lucas complains.

"What plan?" you two go back to confusion.

"You really never noticed? I set you two up! I noticed how much you like each other over these last few months and took control since you were never gonna!" he explains smugly.

"What do you- Ouch!" Eddie starts but you pinch him so he stops.

"You set us up?! That's why you were acting so weird?" you smile when you realize what he was trying to do.

"You're welcome" Dustin throws himself flowers.

"Well, we owe it to you, kid" Eddie says sarcastically.

"What are you on about? They've been dating for a year!" Gareth burstes his bubble.

"Wait what?!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things

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f4wning · 2 months ago

Text

ok guys this is lowk gonna sound weird at first bc of the phrasing but imagine a yandere who's in a relationship.

warnings: obsession, stalking

➣ in a relationship!yandere who stumbles upon you when he and his partner (now ex! you’re the only one he loves, don’t worry) were out shopping. he had bumped into you while his partner had been shopping in a different aisle.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who stares at you, admiring your face for a split second before apologizing profusely.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who’s immediately guilt ridden. he was practically looking at you with heart eyes while he was in a relationship! he’s such a bad person, god fucking damnit.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who tries to forget you, but the image of your face is practically burned into his mind. he constantly thinks back to you, and he hates it.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who starts comparing everything about his partner to what he remembers of you. the way you smiled to the way his partner smiles, the softness of your voice when you said, “it’s okay,” after him bumping into you to his partner’s voice, the shape of your eyes to his partner’s. nothing was the same, and he hated it.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who becomes distant with his partner. he can’t bring himself to even fake his affection. how could he when his thoughts are consumed by you? when you consume his entire being.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who starts going back to the same store every single fucking day, hoping to see you again. he knows it’s ridiculous, maybe even borderline obsessive, but he can’t help himself.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who finally sees you again (after stalking your social media and finding out where you live and then walking around your neighborhood..). this time, he makes sure to bump into you on purpose.

➣ in a relationship!yandere who ends things with his partner that very night. he didn’t have any reasoning; just broke things off with them. all he says is the cliche, “i don’t think this is working anymore. it’s not you, it’s me.”

➣ newly single!yandere who now dedicates all of his time to getting closer to you. he learns your habits, your favorite places, your likes and dislikes. he’s not stalking you! it’s just research.

➣ newly single!yandere who slowly and carefully weaves himself into your life. you don’t even notice his sudden appearance. his appearances start becoming more and more frequent, though; random meetings here and there not so random anymore, short hellos now long conversations, and that infatuated look in his eyes tell you all you need to know.

➣ newly single!yandere who imagines what it’ll be like when you’re finally his. it won’t be long; just a few more days til you’re in his clutches. he’ll never let you go.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere hcs #yandere male #gn reader #yan x reader #headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere x darling #yandere boy #yandere imagines

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worldlxvlys · 10 months ago

Note

Can you write a fic based on Wednesdays video and we notice he not wearing underwear and it’s visible -don’t know how to explain it well🫣

distracted

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, fantasizing, choking, oral (male receiving), handjob, degradation

a/n: @sophssturn also requested something very similar but my dumbass accidentally deleted the request 😭

hope you enjoy !!

i swear i wasn’t looking on purpose.

ok, that’s a straight lie.

but it’s almost as though he wanted me to look, he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wore those grey sweats, which he knew made me go crazy.

and to top it off, he decided not to wear any underwear ? what a slut.

he knew good and damn well that he was too big to be walking around without any boxers on.

and to do it while he was filming ? when he knew there was nothing i could say or do about it ? yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

i was sitting behind the camera, watching as he cooked burgers for everyone.

every time he moved just a little too quickly, his dick would press against his light-colored sweatpants, the outline of his bulge showing.

of course i was aware of how big he was, but that didn’t mean the entire internet need to know too.

as i continued to stare at him, my eyes scanned over his entire body, imagining him in a completely different scenario.

instead of his wrists flicking with every flip of a burger, they were straining against a restraint, and i was watching him squirm desperately under me.

his pretty mouth was being suffocated under the weight of my body, while my aching heat was shoved in his face.

instead of the oil from the cooked meat dripping down his hands, it was a layer of my arousal decorating his long fingers.

when he threw his head back, moaning at the taste of the hamburger, i imagined him moaning my name while i bounced on his-

“helloooo? did you hear me?” chris asked, pulling me back to reality.

“oh, sorry. i was distracted” i answered, now realizing that everything was cleaned up, and matt and nick had already went off to do whatever.

in front of me sat a hamburger, placed perfectly between two buns on a plate.

“distracted by what?” he asked as he watched me take a bite of the food.

i took a minute to finish chewing before answering, “what do you think?” i deadpanned, watching as he looked at me in confusion.

“you seriously don’t know?” i asked, continuing to eat the burger.

when i finished, he pointed to my mouth, “you have a little..” he trailed off as he collected a bit of juice that dribbled down my lips from the meat.

before he could do anything else, i grabbed his finger, looking up at him as i licked the small bit of liquid from his finger.

he stared at me with his mouth hanging open slightly, before i let go of his hand.

“ tastes good” i spoke to him, making him whine in response.

i reached forward, palming him through his sweats, making him moan out in surprise.

“tell me, what did you think was gonna happen?” i asked as my hand made its way into his sweatpants.

“i- fuck, i don’t know” his head fell back as he whispered, hands gripping my waist.

“yes, you do chris. you did it for a reason, what is it ?” i asked as i left a light kiss to the shell of his ear.

i didn’t get an answer as i began to stroke his length.

i squeezed his base lightly, making him groan in response.

“answer me or i’ll make you cum in your pants out here like the dirty slut you are”

“shit” he breathed out raggedly, attempting to compose himself, “i wanted you to fuck me”

“you could’ve just asked baby”

“but i-“ he shuddered the feeling of my hands continuously squeezing him, “i need it rougher”

at those words, i pulled my hand from his pants, “say fucking less” i spoke as i grabbed his hand, pulling him to his room.

when we got there, i closed and locked the door behind us, before pushing him into it roughly.

“talk to me chris. tell me what you want” i spoke.

“ i told you already, i-” i brought my hand to his throat, squeezing it slightly.

��excuse me?” i asked him, eyebrows raised.

his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to my lips. “try that again” i told him.

“i need you to fuck me” he whispered. “louder” i spoke.

“need you to fuck me” he spoke, his voice slightly raised.

“louder”

“they’re gonna hear-” he started before i cut him off, “i don’t really give a fuck. you wanna act like a little bitch in heat ? i’ll treat you like one, say it louder”

“please, please fuck me. need you to fuck me so bad” he spoke up, whining desperately.

“was that so hard?” i asked, tilting my head to the side.

i slid my hand up to grab his jaw, pulling his face toward mine into a heated kiss.

my hands wove into his hair, harshly tugging on his brown locks while his found their way around my waist.

i swallowed his moans as my lips danced along his greedily.

i ran my hands down his clothed chest, letting my fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt.

he took the hint, pulling away for a second to pull his shirt off, before his lips found their way back to mine.

my hands explored the new skin, running along his chest before stopping at his waistband.

i teasingly rubbed his stomach, fingers brushing the waistband but never moving past it.

he pulled away to speak, his mouth slightly open, “don’t tease”

i raised my eyebrows at him, grabbing him by his arm and guiding him to sit on the bed.

“maybe if you weren’t walking around without any underwear on, i’d listen to you” i spoke as i sunk down to my knees in front of him.

his eyes widened slightly as i left a kiss to his clothed dick.

he looked down at me with hooded eyes, watching as i slowly pulled his sweatpants down.

his hard dick slapped his stomach, pre-cum dripping onto his abs.

chris’s breathing sped up in anticipation, his hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

i placed my hands on his thighs, keeping them pulled apart while i leaned forward, collecting his arousal with my tongue.

i started at his stomach, licking at the small beads of arousal, before swirling my tongue around his tip.

“fuck” he breathed out, his head instantly flying back.

“talk to me, baby. you feeling good ?” i asked him.

CHRIS’S POV

“yes, feels so good” i whispered, brows furrowing as she teased me.

she brought the palm of her hand to my tip, rubbing me in quick, circular motions.

my hips jerked up at the feeling, my mind growing fuzzy at the amount of pleasure that coursed through me.

“you think you deserve to cum ?” she asked, looking up at me through her lashes.

she pulled her hand off of me suddenly, deciding to tease me more.

my mouth hung open, but i was unable to form any words as my mind was consumed with her.

her hands, running up my thighs, but always stopping just before her fingers could graze my dick.

her face, glaring up at me with that look in her eyes that told me i was going to be gone by the end of tonight.

her lips, so plump, curved to fit around my dick perfectly.

“please, i need your mouth” i whined as she moved her face closer to me, her breath tickling my painfully hard cock.

“yeah? well i need you to learn how to listen” she spoke, moving away from me.

if there was one thing she loved to do, it was tease me. she wanted to push me to my limits until i lost it.

and she knew exactly how to get me there.

“ok, ok, i’m sorry. please, please, i need your mouth so bad”

ignoring my pleas, she pulled her shirt over her head.

“you never answered my question earlier, chris” she spoke.

her words went in one ear and out the other, however, when i saw what she was wearing underneath her clothes.

“fuck” i groaned out at the site of the black lace that adorned her skin.

the bra had a low cut, her tits sitting perfectly in the cups.

the bottom left little to the imagination, the lips of her pussy hugging the small string of fabric that barely covered it.

“do you deserve to cum?” she repeated her question from earlier, tilting her head at me.

“yes” i spoke quickly, desperate to have her in any way i could.

“i don’t know, you didn’t answer me the first time” she spoke, moving to straddle my waist.

“guess i’ll take that as a no” she spoke as my hands found their was to her hips.

“cum before i tell you and i swear to god i’ll edge you until you start crying” she spoke firmly as she lined herself up with my dick.

“f-fuck” i groaned at the feeling of her pussy sucking up my sensitive tip.

i held her close to me while she continued to take me inch by inch, until her hips met mine.

when i bottomed out, we both let out moans of content.

she began to roll her hips into mine slowly, before bouncing on my cock.

i watched as her covered tits bounced in my face with every one of her harsh movements on top of me.

i squeezed her hips tightly, needing something to grab onto as she found her rhythm.

her tight pussy continued to squeeze me, each pull of her hips pushing me deeper and deeper into a euphoric state.

“g-god, feels so good” i groaned out, watching her eyes light up at the praise.

“yeah?” she asked, grabbing my jaw to pull my face closer to hers.

“fuck yes, you’re so good to me baby” i spoke against her lips.

she ground her hips down against mine as she pressed a fervent kiss to my lips, her fingers finding their way back to my hair.

when i pulled away, i left kisses on her neck, making my way down to her boobs.

“so beautiful” i whispered up to her.

“hmm, so sweet to me” she spoke, “but i’m still not letting you cum” she pushed my chest, making me fall back onto the bed.

she laid her hands on my chest, using it as leverage to increase her speed on top of me.

“you look so good on top of me like this” i groaned out.

i was barely holding it together, something about the way she took control made me lose my mind.

“i’m so close” i whined as the sounds of our skin slapping against each other’s filled the room.

“well that sucks for you then, huh ?” she asked as she brought her hand to my throat, lightly choking me.

my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the action, my fingers digging into her thighs.

“i- please, i need it, need it so bad” i struggled to form a logical sentence as she leaned back, placing her hands on my thighs.

“oh my g-god” i moaned, desperately trying to hold back my orgasm.

“wait until i tell you” she spoke, moving my head to look at her.

i glanced down to where our bodies met, getting lost in the way her glistening pussy engulfed my dick.

i could’ve came from the sight alone.

“please, please, please” i repeated the word like it was a chant, knowing i wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“i’m almost there, baby. so close, just hold on a little bit longer for me”

my head flew back when she clenched around me, eliciting a loud moan from me.

“fuck, let go for me chris. let it all out” she moaned as she continued to clench around me.

i sat up to close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her close to me.

my legs began to shake, my abdominal muscles tightening as i was hit with a shockwave of pleasure.

my hips bucked up into her, making her moan while i shot my load into her weeping hole.

“fuck chris, right there ! right there” she cried out as i unintentionally thrusted into her, my cock buried as deep as it could go inside of her.

she let out one last moan as i felt her release all over me, my dick coated in her pleasure.

my body went limp underneath her, letting her take control as she worked us through our highs.

once we both calmed down, she lifted herself off of me slowly, before making her way to my bathroom.

when she returned, she held two towels in either hand; one wet and one dry.

she gently rubbed the wet towel against my skin, cleaning up the sticky substance that resided from our previous orgasms.

“are you ok my love? did i hurt you?” she asked me while she continued to clean me up.

she took the second towel, drying my wet skin while i answered, “no baby. i’m ok” i smiled lightly at her.

“good” she answered before finishing up, and doing the same for herself.

she discarded the towels in the hamper before coming back over to me.

“wanna take a shower?” she asked as her hands found their way to my waist, rubbing light circles into it.

“yeah” i spoke as i went to stand up, immediately halting my movements when it felt like my legs were going to give out.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the way i quickly sat back down.

“my legs are…” i trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn’t make the effect she had on me so obvious.

i didn’t need to feed her ego any more than i already had.

it was no use, though, as she picked up on what was happening.

“you can’t walk ?” she asked, a smug grin growing on her face.

“shut up” i spoke, shaking my head at her.

“awww, it’s ok baby, i’ll take care of you” she spoke, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

she went to help me up before pausing, “want me to pick you up?” she teased.

🦢🦢🦢🦢

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @chrisstopherfilmed @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @evieolo @riasturns @sturnssmuts @nicksmainbitch @luverboychris

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #sturniolos #sturniolo smut

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always-just-red · 5 months ago

Note

Please make a story that zayne is very clingy, sweet , romantic

For Mc

Pretty please

Make it long

Please

Need a food 🥺

Food is served!! (One of these days you guys are gonna see an 'only accepting requests for Rafayel now' post and it'll be Raf hijacking my computer because WHY WAS I CATCHING FEELINGS FOR ZAYNE WHILE WRITING THIS??)

Doctor's Orders

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: Zayne has suggested you skip work today, which isn't suspicious at all...

Genre: Fluff (with a *pinch* of angst)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some kisses, some mentions of death (just a real mixed bag, you know?)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Do you really have to go?”

Zayne was a lot of things: caring, even doting, but never normally this… clingy.

You pretend not to hear the question, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you get ready to leave. You will answer it— you’re not ignoring him— but you have so much to do, and you’ve answered it three times already. Yes, Zayne. It’s work. You finish lacing your boots. And no, Zayne, I can’t get out of it.

And since when was he an advocate for skipping a shift, anyway? Like blood from a stone, he’d calmly pleaded with you to come up with some sort of excuse and you’d stared back, eyes wide, because you didn’t know stones could bleed.

An excuse? You’d repeated in disbelief.

Yes. You could… tell them you’re sick? I could write you a note.

You’d thought it a joke until he drew out a pen and started scrawling something on the nearest scrap of paper. He’d pushed it into your hands, his gaze earnest, as though he were trusting a co-conspirator. Here, he’d said matter-of-factly, you can give it to your captain tomorrow.

The writing was barely legible.

It’s still crinkling in your pocket now: your little ‘get-out-of-your-Sunday-shift-free’ card, courtesy of Doctor Zayne, and yes, you are going to hold onto it, but it’s not for Jenna. It’s for your apartment wall, where you’ll be mounting it in a golden frame, because absolutely no-one is going to believe you when you tell this story.

You collect your guns from a nearby drawer, checking the sights and the safety on each before holstering them at your sides. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back,” you shrug.

A nice sentiment— not entirely true. “Or you could stay.” Zayne is looking at your weapons, not you.

He’s sat at the kitchen table, watching you over an untouched breakfast. Yours also sits around him: plates upon plates of every food you could imagine, warm and cold, savoury and sweet. You’d suffered a brief heart attack when you’d first laid eyes on it, presuming you’d forgotten some occasion or another.

There’s even a vase of fresh flowers, flourishing at the centre of it all.

It’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever seen, but you’re starting to think that’s the point. Like a hand on your heart, squeezing; it’s urging you to sit back down, to relax, to surrender and let him take care of you. Are you the worst person in the world? It feels like you are.

Ready to take on anything but more of his gaze, you return to the table, fully-armed, and pluck a strawberry from the edge of a plate. You pop it into your mouth, savouring its sweetness as you stroll behind Zayne’s chair. “Try not to worry,” you mumble, resting your hand on his shoulder while you lean in to kiss his cheek. “Ok?”

“Ok.”

You go to pull away, but his hand lands on your hand, anchoring you to him. His fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting, guiding your fingers in front of his mouth so he can press a few, brisk kisses to each. Your heart is in a vice again— tightening with every brush of his lips. You can’t take it. You can’t.

He knows, and he’s turning in the chair, slipping his free hand around your waist and tugging until you’re crushed up against him. “Stay. Please?” his voice entreats. You can barely hear it from where his face is nestled into you.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, and you sigh as your hands move to cradle his head and run your fingers through his hair. You want to enjoy this. Why can’t you enjoy this?

His breath is fanning against you and all you can think about is the fact that he’s making you late.

…

You’re marching to headquarters twice as quickly as usual, and you’ve crashed into three people already. Every time there’s been an impulse to scream “get out of the way!” but you’re wearing your uniform, so you have to apologise, smile sweetly, and pretend you’re not one incident away from turning in your badge and leaving them all to fend for themselves.

Someone steps out in front of you and you have to swerve to miss them, almost dropping your phone in the process. It had just started ringing, and the noise persists as you fumble with it.

“Hello?” you answer, putting it to one ear as you plug the other with a finger.

“Hi!” It’s Greyson, finally, and he’s surprisingly chipper for someone you know is just coming off of his graveyard shift. “I saw your texts. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! Thanks for calling. It’s just…” Everything’s too noisy for you to concentrate, and you’re still essentially running an obstacle course. You peel away from the crowd, ducking into the quiet of an alley. “I’m a little worried about Zayne. He’s been acting weird all weekend, ever since—”

“Friday?”

“Yeah.” That couldn’t mean anything good. Your brow furrows. “Did something happen?”

A drawn-out sigh makes it through the phone, and you know Greyson well enough to know he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much he should tell you. “We had a patient transferred to us on Friday,” he caves, “a young woman— a hunter, injured— she was… not in a good way. Recovery odds next to zero, but Zayne? You know Zayne. He had to try.”

You nod, even though Greyson can’t see it. There’s dread in the pit of your stomach; you can tell where this is going.

“She didn’t make it,” he states with the rehearsed evenness of someone who’s spoken the words too many times before. There’s another sigh, then he hastens to add: “Zayne was incredible, though— he did everything he could, really. He was her best chance, he just… wasn’t enough. You can’t save everyone, you know?” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, you know.”

And you do: you’re just as haunted by that truth and all of its ghosts. “Yeah,” you speak at last, seeing their faces. Your throat hurts. “Thanks, Greyson. Really.”

“That’s ok,” he yawns. “If Zayne asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You think he’s gonna believe that?”

“No.” He’s smiling, now— you can tell. “But it’s worth a try! You take care of yourself, ok?”

“You too. Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

…

You’ve only been gone for half an hour, but Zayne is fast asleep. Though you’d practically burst through the front door, his head is still lowered— dipping over an open medical journal— and his dark hair has fallen over his eyes. You can’t help but smile. This wasn’t the nervous, pacing-the-apartment man you’d expected to find, but it eases the guilt in your chest for the first time all morning.

You sling your bag from your shoulder and set it gently down on the floor, all the while easing the door closed behind you. You unfasten your holsters. Shrug yourself free of all their straps. You don’t make a sound; you’re being very careful.

Slowly, you make your way over to where Zayne’s lying on the sofa. You lower yourself to his level, reaching to pry his book from his fingers. His glasses are next: you ease them from his face like you’re handling a volatile protocore. Your breath is baited. Your hands almost shake, but you’re an expert at this sort of extraction: you’ve done it a hundred times before.

With your mission accomplished, you allow yourself one small reward. You want to see his face— all of his face— so you card your fingers through his fallen hair, smoothing it back into place. He looks like a dream: the kind you’re glad to carry through daylight, long after you wake. The kind you write down for fear of forgetting a single detail.

You want this, this, this. Every morning. For the rest of your life.

And maybe even the next life. Is that possible?

(You hope it’s possible.)

Standing softly, you smile again— a smile between you and the universe, the gods, and the night sky, in all its infinity. There are things you cannot know and even more things you cannot have, but you are more than content with your consolation prize. This:

One minute of peace, for you and your doctor.

You have a funny feeling this is more than you were ever meant to have.

When your minute is through, you watch as Zayne’s face changes, and he is no longer at peace. He frowns, his whole body suddenly tense. There’s a murmur of… pain? It sounds like pain— he winces like it’s pain. He doesn’t tell you where he goes, but you wish you could hold his hand and make a breakfast big enough to keep him from going there.

“Zayne,” you whisper, resting a warm palm on his cheek. A little louder: “Zayne.”

He stirs in his sleep as your voice brings him back to reality. He’s yours— yours— and the inevitable can have him later. Sure enough, his eyes flutter open, lost for a moment, but then? Home. Safe. With you.

“Hey,” you grin.

He squints against the daylight. “Hmm? Oh. What are you doing back so soon?”

You scoff. “Some doctor you are! I’m at death’s door— can’t you tell?” Your hand leaves his cheek, indicating your not-pallid skin, not-flushed cheeks, and not-sunken eyes with a wave. Then you find his hand, pressing his fingers to your forehead.

There’s a second of hesitation. “Ah,” he says warily, “yes, you’re… burning up.”

“Right?!”

Despite the severity of your condition, you find the strength to clamber on top of him. It’s anything but graceful, and he groans as you shift and fidget, taking your time getting comfortable. Eventually you settle, your head resting against his chest and his arms holding you close. You’re not tired, but you close your eyes, and this is so much better than patrolling for Wanderers.

He draws you higher so his chin can rest on the top of your head. “Greyson told you, didn’t he?” he ventures aloud, because he’s awake, now, so he’s connecting dots.

“Yeah,” you nod against him. “But if he asks, I said it was Yvonne, ok?”

There’s a hum of agreement, then he’s silent. Thinking again. “I’m sorry,” he finally speaks.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s sweet that you worry. You don’t need to—”

“No,” he stops you. “I care about you a lot, and I’ll never apologise for that. What I am sorry for, however, is that a romantic gesture from me is so unusual that you feel you have to call my colleagues. I know I’m not always outwardly affectionate, but—”

“No.” It’s your turn now, and you twist, angling yourself so you can look up into his eyes. “You always make me feel loved, Zayne. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s for me, and no-one has ever cared about me like that. No-one has ever showed me they care like that.”

“Then why—”

“Because you get it, Zayne— the importance of what I do, because it’s what you do, even if it’s different. We’re both saving the world a little, right?”

“Right.”

You draw out his doctor’s note and shimmy it in front of his eyes. “So what the hell is this?”

He admits guilt with a chuckle, his hand moving to catch the evidence, but you’re one step ahead, stashing it back into the sanctity of your pocket. He issues a short hmph, defeated.

“Come on,” you prompt, escaping his arms. “Let’s not let all that food go to waste. You kept it, yeah? I’ve been dreaming about those chocolate-chip pancakes since I left.”

Zayne had been helping you up, but he slumps back as you finish your sentence. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” he confirms with the trademark nod of a doctor, and it can only mean one thing:

You’re about to receive some very, very bad news.

#🖋rach is actually writing #zayne x reader #zayne #love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #li shen #lads x reader #zayne x mc #lads #lnds #l&ds

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novvabee · 2 months ago

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Just imagine poly!marauders x reader who decides to go on a holiday trip together but when they arrive there is the classic one-bed-trope (or maybe two and they argue on who gets to share the bed with reader) and she’s all shy bc even though they live together she never spent a night with them in the same room, specially on the same bed!

(Btw, are you planning on getting them together?)

hehehe soooo... I am planning on it, but for right now I live for the pining and the wholesome moments without them being together. anyways here is part 9.

And They Were Roommates pt.9

Summary:reader and the boys go on a trip, one bed trope, it's cute

word count: 1.9k

You and the boys decided to go on a little weekend getaway. You all decided to go to some classic touristy spots like the zoo and aquarium, which the boys definitely loved, and a history museum, which for some reason really fascinated James and Sirius, they stopped at nearly every attraction and stared in awe, especially when it came to the dinosaur fossils.

You chalked it up to them being typical boys and found it almost comical, they acted like they had never seen some of the stuff.

After a long day filled with fun, you were in need of a rest. Luckily, you and the boys had rented rooms at a hotel nearby, knowing that it would be too far a journey to go back home at the end of the day.

After a quick bite to eat at a cute little cafe, you and the boys made your way to the hotel. It was a short journey, just up the road from where you had been spending the whole day.

“I just don’t understand,” Sirius said while walking to the hotel, “Those paintings, they were pretty, but why were they in a museum? They didn’t even move.”

You laughed and continued walking. “Of course they don’t move Siri, they’re paintings.” you replied.

Sirius opened his mouth, looking like he was going to question you, but Remus nudged him and shook his head at Sirius, halting him from asking any more silly questions.

You reached the lobby of the regal hotel you were to stay at. Remus told the three of you to wait, that he would check in and grab the keys. You hung back with Sirius and James and talked about all the fun animals you saw. James was recalling a particular shark that he liked when Remus returned to the group.

“Uh, small problem,” He started, making the three of you turn your attention to him, “There's been a mix up with the rooms.”

You furrowed your brows, what kind of mix up could there possibly be? You thought you booked everything correctly. “What do you mean ‘mix up’?” you asked.

Remus sighed. “Well uh, instead of two rooms with two beds each, there’s two rooms with one bed.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s not a problem, we can share, right?” you looked at the other boys. They nodded in agreement.

“Ok, how do we want to split the rooms then?” Remus asked.

“I’ll go with Y/N.” James said in a rush.

Sirius looked at him and scoffed. “That is like calling dibs on someone, you can't-”

“I didn't call dibs on her, I just said-”James interrupted. They began talking over each other.

“-Look, personally, I think it’s just unfair if-”

“-shut up Sirius”

“James kicks in his sleep.” Sirius turned to comment to you.

“Do not!” James defended himself

“Yes you do! Tell that to all the bruises I have acquired over the years!” Sirius shot back at him.

“Maybe I kick because you toss and turn constantly-” James was interrupted again, this time by Remus.

“Boys,” he said calmly, having had to break up these types of arguments many times, “How about we let Y/N decide who she wants to room with, yeah?”

With that, all the attention was now directed at you. “Oh. I don’t mind, I can share with whoever,” you said, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings by picking one person over the other two.

Remus sighed and turned to the other two boys. He muttered something to them and they all agreed by nodding, then broke into a game of stick and stones. This made you giggle, so incredibly childish of them, but so incredibly amusing to you. You thought for a moment that maybe they were playing to see who would be stuck with you, that maybe none of them actually wanted to share a bed with you. But this theory of yours was proven wrong when Remus was eliminated and swore at the other two. You giggled again.

James and Sirius continued until Sirius groaned and threw his head back, James laughing in victory. He swung an arm around you and said, “Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight, love.” James grabbed one room key from Remus, and started to lead you two to your room.

Before you made it very far, Sirius whispered to you “I’m not joking he kicks.”

You smiled and bid Remus and Sirius goodnight before making your way to your room.

James, always the gentleman, carried your bag for you and opened the door for you when you reached the correct room. You shuffled in and took a look around. The room was quite big and luxurious.

The bed was king sized, so you were a little more relieved. You walked in and plopped yourself right in the middle of it. James set your bag down and looked around the room as well.

“Oh uh, I can sleep on the floor or something by the way. I’m sure there’s extra pillows and blankets in the closet.” He said.

You sat up and looked at him. “No! Don’t be ridiculous James, I’m not making you sleep on the floor.” you laughed. “Besides, there’s plenty of room for both of us in this bed.” you pat the spot next to you.

James was blushing but trying to play it cool. “Ok, as long as you’re ok…”

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled. He sat on the bed next to you.

“So is it true?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Is what true?” he asked back.

You laughed and replied “That you kick.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No… I mean maybe. How should I know I’m asleep.” he laughed.

“Have you and Sirius shared a bed a lot? I mean… for him to bring it up…” you said, trying to not make it seem like you were asking something too personal. You have seen them laying together often on the couch… you knew they were close and often brushed it off as something they did as friends, that they were just cuddling and affectionate. But know… know you weren’t too sure, with Sirius’s comment and all. Maybe they were more than friends…

James chuckled again and thought for a moment. Then he replied, “Yeah we have… when we were younger, in school, he would climb into my bed a lot when… well, Sirius doesn’t have a particularly great family. So when he would get sad or stressed or… I don’t know… if he’d have any feelings relating to it, he’d often climb in my bed. We’d talk about it, or sometimes just lay there, then eventually we would fall asleep.” he turned to you to continue. “Then when he was about 16, he ran away from home and came to live with me. For a while we only had one bed,” he laughed, “but we didn’t really mind. It wasn’t until Remus came to live with us that we all got our separate rooms.”

“Wait,” you said a bit confused, “Remus came to live with you too?”

James nodded. “Yeah, a little while after Sirius did. Remus also has… a complicated family history. So yeah… we’ve all shared beds but… I guess we just like to be close to each other.”

You felt so bad, so guilty for bringing it up. You thought that maybe… but it was actually much worse, sadder. “Oh…” you said, because that was really the only thing you could say. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring-”

“Oh no! It’s fine.” James stopped you. “We're all the better for it.” He smiled.

You nodded but still felt a little bad. You hopped up and told him you were going to shower quickly. He said alright and that he would find something to watch for the two of you. Showereng, you still felt awful for assuming that maybe they had slept together, when in reality, they were just boys who were affectionate, and… ugh.

You dried off and changed into some comfy clothes, stepping out into the cold bedroom.

James was already in some sleeping pants and a hoodie, leaning back on the headboard, staring at the tv screen. “I found two movies we could watch either Jurassic World or Mulan, but if I had to pick… I’d wanna watch Jurassic World.” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“You really liked the dinosaur exhibit today didn’t you?” you laughed.

“I really liked the dinosaur exhibit.” he echoed and smiled at you, turning the movie on.

You climbed into bed right alongside him, also leaning against the headboard. You two watched the movie and talked for a while longer before either of you got tired. It was midnight when both of you decided to sleep, knowing that it would be an early morning.

“Y/N?” James’s voice sounded from beside you.

“Hmm” you answered, trying to get comfortable.

“Is it ok if I take my shirt off?” he asked.

You froze completely. James was incredibly fit and you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the thought of sleeping next to him shirtless. But it was just like him to ask before doing it, to make sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable at all.

“U-uh yeah go for it.” you stammered. Thank god he had already turned off the lights or else he would see the red hue staining your face.

He pulled off his hoodie and threw it across the room. You turned onto your side, away from him as you heard him say “Goodnight Y/N”.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

You couldn’t sleep immediately, the one reason being that you were under the AC, which, after being in the shower, made you so much colder. You tried to pull the comforter up more, but James turned to you.

“You alright, love?” he asked.

“Yeah, just cold.” you said, trying to keep your teeth from chattering. James got up and found his hoodie from where he threw it and handed it to you.

“Oh no,” you began to protest, but it was no use, he was already bunching it up over your head. You gave in and let him slip the warm fabric over your body.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” you said as he climbed back into bed, truthfully, it did help, but you were still slightly cold.

You felt the bed shift, then felt his arms around you. If you weren't blushing before, you definitely were now. You made to protest, to say that it was ok and that he didn’t have to but before you could get a word out James shushed you.

“Shh, I run very warm.” he said sleepily, and it was true. He was like a human furnace, like a heated blanket wrapped around you.

You smiled and curled up to get more comfortable. You must have accidentally brushed James’s leg while doing so because he let out a yelp then a laugh.

“Why are your feet so cold!” he whisper shouted, making you giggle and apologize.

“I run very cold.” you joked.

You both layed there, getting warm and dozing off. You wished you could feel it every night, it was like the sun was shining perfectly on you, you could get used to this. But he was your roommate and you didn’t want to make anything weird between you all, even if that meant never feeling warm enough in bed again.

i hope this is good... idk. also james got what he wanted from last part lmao

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