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cuubism · 4 months ago

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as a certified horse obsessed freak i'm obliged to have an equestrian au so here's an equestrian au. make it olympics flavored for relevance. but there will be no sex in hay!! EVER!!!

it is smutty though.

Dream Endleas’s reputation for being difficult preceded him. His critical eye, his adherence to perfection, his crisp turnout and refusal to ever appear the slightest bit disheveled even after competing in the summer heat; his family, his money, his luxury-brand sponsorships—Hob had seen enough videos of Dream’s Grand Prix tests to be prepared for all of it. But he wasn’t prepared for the force of seeing it in person.

Dream in person was somehow even more perfect and posh than he appeared on video. Hob hadn’t actually spoken to him yet, had only communicated through his groom, Matthew, while getting the horses settled in—but God, he looked like such a prat. He looked like the type of snotty kid Hob had seen around the yard growing up, the type who thought they could ride because their parents had bought them a fifty-thousand pound pony. The type that persisted into adulthood, rolling up in a Range Rover to get on an already tacked horse, later handing their fancy horse back to the groom before stalking back out of the stable in pristine white breeches, leaving all the care to others.

Hob might have had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about that sort of thing.

It would have been easy to hate Dream, except that, fancy horse or not, he actually could ride, exceedingly well at that, and—and Hob was feeling very betrayed by his dick on this one—he was also blisteringly hot.

Dressage competition wear was, by and large, not one’s first choice of clothes that would be considered “sexy.” The combination of “business formal” and “cavalry officer on parade” wasn’t exactly giving come hither, but Hob took one look at Dream stalking down the center aisle of the barn in his clean white breeches and his high boots and his black coat with its little fucking Union Jack embroidery and he wanted. It was a good thing thoughts were an internal situation because it was embarrassing how quickly he went to I want those skinny little thighs wrapped around my head. Mortifying, really.

He was thinking about it so hard he didn’t immediately realize Dream was coming for him.

“You,” Dream said, stopping before him. “You are the stable manager.”

“That’s me,” Hob agreed. Regretting it more every minute, too. Managing the horses for the Olympic team had sounded like a good gig in theory…

“Why have the horses not been turned out?” Dream demanded.

“Aren’t you competing in—” Hob checked his watch— “an hour? Why are you asking me this now?”

“Because it came to my attention that things were mismanaged,” Dream said, unrepentant, then stood, waiting for his answer.

Hob sighed. “They didn’t provide us any turnout space.”

“They did not provide—” Dream started, then stopped, apparently flummoxed. “That is unacceptable.”

Hob had to grudgingly admit that it was to his credit that he cared. Not everyone did. “Tell me about it. But if you hadn’t noticed, we’re in a several hundred year old stable and they weren’t about to revamp the entire situation for us.”

“As per usual, horse welfare comes last,” Dream said, narrowing his eyes. Jesus Christ, Hob thought, he’s wearing eyeliner. “Be advised that I will be paying close attention going forward—” he looked at Hob’s name badge— “Hob Gadling.”

And with that ominous statement, he turned and stalked off.

“Good luck with your test,” Hob offered, half-heartedly, to Dream’s retreating back. Then, to himself, “Really? That prick’s the one you want?”

He could hardly be angry with Dream for being upset about it, though. Hob certainly had a bone to pick with the organizers about the horses being stalled 24/7. But he doubted that the people who managed The Palace of Versailles gave a fuck what he thought.

It did mean less for Hob to do, though. So once he’d done another round of their team’s wing of the stables he headed out to the arena to watch Dream’s test. There was no way Hob was going to miss watching him ride after a performance like that. If you were going to live up to your reputation of being rude and difficult you had damn well better live up to your reputation for skill as well.

Unfortunately for Hob, Dream did in fact live up to that reputation. He and Jessamy were gorgeous together. She was a smaller and lighter horse than many of the others and seemed to practically float across the ring. Dream made it look so easy when Hob knew damn well it was not. Hob could have watched him for hours, though of course the test was only a few minutes long.

In addition to watching Dream’s test, he was keeping an eye on the horses going in and out of the stable, keeping up to date on any injuries or soreness, though each had its own groom who was responsible for the horse’s immediate care. At the conclusion of Dream’s test, Hob expected him to hand Jessamy off to Matthew, but instead Dream just dropped his stirrups, letting Jessamy steer on a long rein as he wandered off towards the grassy area past the border of the dressage arena.

“Oi!” Hob called, catching up to him. “Where are you going?”

“I am going for a hack,” Dream said, hardly sparing him a passing glance.

Hob followed the direction he was headed. “On the cross-country course?”

“They aren’t using it,” Dream said, uncaring. “We”—presumably he meant himself and the horse—“are sick of being in the stable.”

So saying, he started off again, Jessamy’s ears pricked forward in interest as she picked her way across the grass.

Hob doubted he could stop him. And he had to admit it was probably more entertaining for the horse to go for a walk than to sit in her stall. It seemed a strange thing for Dream to do, though, wander off across the grass, legs swinging free out of the stirrups, instead of maintaining a strict training regimen in the arena.

Dream stopped before he was too far away, turning over his shoulder to call out: “I will be back before the final test is complete. If scheduling concerns you.”

So there was some recognition of the fact that it would be Hob’s neck if the horses weren’t where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a hand. “Though given your score, I’d imagine you want to be back before they announce the medals.”

He got a half-smile from Dream for this, and then he was wandering off again, sitting comfortably in the saddle with the reins long, Jessamy’s tail swishing away the summer flies.

Hob watched his retreating back for a long moment, then turned back to the ring to keep an eye on the rest of the horses.

As Hob had predicted, Dream did win gold. He showed up just in time for it, finally giving Jessamy back to Matthew to take inside. She’d picked up some grass stains on her white socks, though Dream’s clothes were as pristine as ever. He seemed immune to dishevelment. He accepted his medal with predictable stoicism and bore the obligatory photos with grace and poise but what seemed to Hob like resignation rather than enjoyment of the attention.

Hob didn’t see where he ended up next. He had horses to feed and water and tack to be sure was in order for tomorrow’s events. In fact, he doubted he’d see Dream again at all. It should have been a good thing, for all Dream was a source of frustration for him. Instead, he found himself feeling disappointed.

Hob was always the last one in the barn at night. Partly out of obsessiveness, partly due to the fact that unlike the riders, his lodgings were actually on the stable grounds. So he did his final round looking in on the horses at around 9 p.m. Not that there was much to do—check water, throw a little hay, make sure none of the horses had managed to keel over in the last two hours since he’d seen them—but it was a soothing ritual, making sure everything was shut up tight before going to bed himself.

Or it would have been soothing, if there wasn’t somebody else there.

The distant sound of a stall door sliding open had Hob immediately on edge. No one else had cause to be here this late, and at such a high profile event, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of ill intentions—or just of a horse getting out past an improperly latched door. He walked quickly towards that wing of the stable, though there had been no more sounds since—

Oh. It was Jessamy’s stall. Hopefully that meant it was Dream, or at least Matthew, because otherwise Dream would be royally fucking pissed.

Hob peered around the door where it was cracked open. And then just stood there, frozen, because it was Dream, crouched down in the shavings cleaning the grass stains from Jessamy’s leg—but not Dream like Hob had ever seen him.

For one, he was wearing shorts. Actual jean shorts that fell to mid-thigh, legs bare down to his paddock boots. Legs which were just as wiry and pale as Hob had imagined under his breeches, but covered in dust, with a streak of mud across one knee and a small bruise on the other thigh of the type you inevitably get when you spend enough time in the barn. Instead of his crisp white shirt and black jacket of earlier, he was wearing a loose black t-shirt spotted with water across the chest—watching the way Jessamy was sloshing about in her water bucket, now full of hydrating additives, Hob could just about guess how that had occurred. Dream even had a piece of hay stuck in his hair.

It was all so shocking Hob didn’t realize Dream was calling his name until he’d said it a second time.

“Hob Gadling. Do you require something, or can I be left in peace for the first time today?”

“You’re wearing shorts,” Hob said, dumbfounded.

Dream raised an eyebrow. “It is very hot out, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I just— I can’t imagine you in shorts.” Or covered in dirt, for that matter. Dream was so pristine, so refined. Except for now, when he was at least fifty percent dust.

“Do you imagine me frequently?” Dream asked, and Hob was grateful that the low lighting disguised the way his cheeks flushed.

“No, I—” he did, though. He’d imagined Dream constantly since first seeing him. Since first learning they’d be crossing paths at the Olympics, really. “Maybe.”

Dream smirked, and stood, stepping out of the stall and perching instead on his tack trunk in the aisle, latching the door behind him. “What about me makes you think I do not own shorts?”

Hob was definitely blushing now. “You just. Always look so put together. And now you’re…” he gestured to the various bits of grime sticking to Dream.

“Of course I am put together at a show, Hob,” Dream said, rolling his eyes. “You could hardly expect me to show up to the Olympic final with mud smeared across my face.”

This was a good point, actually.

“I did not intend to be seen like this at all,” Dream added, giving him a pointed look.

Hob found it charming, though. The fact that Dream’s relative familiarity in being sticky with sweat and hay dust meant he did at least some of his own horse care regularly. The fact he didn’t just show up to get on and off.

“Why are you here so late?” Hob asked, glancing over at Jessamy. “I think she’ll survive with some grass stains until tomorrow. You’re done competing anyway.”

Dream’s brow pinched. “The amount of socializing at this event is stressful. And there is no reprieve in my rooms.”

This made Hob grin. “Not having fun in the Olympic Village?”

Dream wrinkled his nose. “I do not like having a roommate,” he said, and Hob had to laugh at the disgust in his tone. “I considered booking my own hotel room, but was informed this was not demonstrative of team spirit.”

“Oh no, you had to be part of a team at a team event, that’s terrible,” Hob said, still grinning. “Poor Dream.”

Dream’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but it did reach his eyes, Hob saw it. “Terrible,” he agreed. “Hence, I am hiding in the barn.”

“And you wanted to check on your horse,” Hob guessed, softening. He had finally reached the conclusion that he had been wrong about the type of horseman Dream was likely to be. And shouldn’t have assumed it in the first place.

“I worry about them overheating,” Dream said. “This barn has poor airflow.”

“You’ve got better at your place back home?”

“My horses live outside,” Dream said.

Hob had really been wrong about the type of horseman Dream was.

“Now you will tell me they will break themselves in the field,” Dream sighed, apparently well-used to the argument.

“Nope,” said Hob. “So do mine.”

Then, Dream looked at him in surprise and, if Hob wasn’t mistaken, a new hint of grudging respect.

“Mine aren’t as expensive as yours, of course,” Hob teased. He could only guess at the price tag on Dream’s Grand Prix dressage horses.

“They are insured,” Dream said, dismissively. “I care little for how much they cost me. They are happier out of their stalls.”

Hob smiled, and felt the softness of it on his own face. Goddammit. Now he wasn’t only finding Dream hot, which he could maybe have coped with, but going soft on him, too. “I really am sorry about the turnout situation here. There’s just not much we can do about it. I did ask.”

“It’s no matter.” He’d apparently decided to give up on his annoyance with Hob about it. “I may bring her home early. Though I doubt they will let me leave until the end.”

“No one’s ever been less excited to be at the Olympics than you, Dream,” Hob said, laughing, and Dream cracked another smile. He was very pretty when he smiled. He was pretty when he was stern and focused, too. Really, all of him was doing it for Hob.

“I am not very good at dealing with people,” Dream admitted.

Hob felt abruptly bad for him and the reputation he’d developed. Not that Dream hadn’t done anything to justify it. But it couldn’t make it any easier to make friends. He looked so much smaller, too, sitting on the tack trunk in his shorts and t-shirt, covered in dust and hay. Far from the stern and unapproachable Dream Hob had seen earlier.

“Come take a walk with me,” he suggested. “We’ll finish checking in on the horses and then, I don’t know. Get a drink or something.”

It felt too bold a suggestion as soon as Hob suggested it, but Dream sighed and stood, dusting off his shorts. “I suppose I should try not to sequester myself.”

“That’s the enthusiasm I like to see,” Hob said, and got another smile out of Dream. He was quickly becoming addicted to getting those smiles.

Dream followed as Hob checked in on the remaining horses, helping him top off waters and throw hay. By the end Hob was just as covered in dust as Dream, t-shirt drenched in sweat, and had tied up his hair in a bun to get it off the back of his neck, not that it helped much. Dream had been right, the barn was poorly ventilated, and they were both suffering the results of that.

When he turned from tying up his hair, he found Dream watching him, gaze tracking the movement of Hob’s hands, the fall of his hair, then back to his face.

“What?” Hob asked.

“I—” Dream swallowed, throat catching. “Was I. Wrong. To think I caught you looking before?”

Somehow Hob knew exactly what he meant. He probably should have felt embarrassed about it—but it was hard to when Dream was looking at him like that now. Dust sticking to his hair, sweat gleaming along his neck, and he was looking at Hob like he’d suddenly found something very compelling to cut through the weariness of the day.

“No,” Hob said. “Did it bother you?”

Dream shook his head. “No one looks at me like that.”

“Seriously? But you’re gorgeous.”

Dream’s mouth popped open, and even in the semi-dark Hob thought he saw his eyes dilate. “Am I?”

“Maybe they’re all just too intimidated by you to show it,” Hob said, taking a step closer to him.

“And are you?” Dream asked. “Am I so terrifying?”

“I think I can handle it,” Hob said, and closed the remaining distance between them, sparing one moment to think I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this before he took Dream’s face between his hands and kissed him.

Dream whimpered into the kiss, clutching at Hob’s wrists. He opened his mouth to Hob, head tipping back. Dream had such a strong presence that Hob hadn’t realized there was a slight height difference between them, but he took full advantage of it now, pressing him back, letting go of his face to catch him around the waist.

Dream pulled away long enough to take a breath, then dove back immediately into the kiss, sucking on Hob’s lower lip, digging his fingers into Hob’s hair. Hob steered him back, half-blind for kissing, until they stumbled into one of the empty stalls being used to store extra tack, where he pushed Dream down to sit on one of the tack trunks.

Dream’s breath caught, his pulse hammering where Hob set his lips and teeth to it, sucking a mark into his throat on his way to kneeling between Dream’s spread thighs. “I was thinking about you as well,” Dream admitted, once Hob had detached from his neck and dropped fully to kneel on the floor, grinding dirt into his knees. “Seeing you. Carrying bags of feed over your shoulder like they weighed nothing. Mmm. Your shoulders.”

“Oh, yeah?” That was heady to think about, Dream watching him like that. Hob undid the button on his shorts, skimming them and his underwear down and off over his paddock boots. This revealed Dream’s pretty pink cock, already plumping up as he leaned back on his hands on the tack trunk. Hob nosed at the base, taking in the sweat and musk of him, hearing Dream’s breath hitch. “You know what I was thinking about?”

“What?”

“Doing this.” Hob took the head of Dream’s cock in his mouth, pulling a wrenching cry from Dream as he twitched where he sat, thighs trembling. Hob bobbed his head, sucked up the length of him, pulling off with a pop and saying, “This is exactly where I wanted you.”

“Indeed?” The word was shaky. Dream’s fingers twitched on the wood of the trunk.

“Go on,” Hob told him, and Dream’s hands went to his hair, pulling it from its bun, directing Hob back down onto his cock. Hob took him deep, pressing his nose into the hair at the base of Dream’s pelvis. The weight of Dream in his mouth was addicting, and then Dream’s legs shifted and he tucked them up and over Hob’s shoulders, thighs pressing in against his head—yes, perfect.

Dream pulled him close, thrust his hips up into Hob’s mouth, hesitant at first then bolder when Hob hummed in encouragement. Dream’s fingers combed through his hair, not quite pulling but tugging and tangling in little pinpricks of delicious pain, and Hob closed his eyes, surrendering to the experience of satisfying him, so hard in his own jeans but ignoring it for now—it only made everything feel more vivid, anyway.

“Hob,” Dream cried, cock twitching, pre-come spilling over Hob’s tongue. Hob didn't let up, only took him deeper, Dream bumping against the back of his throat as he swallowed.

Dream cried out as he came, hands clenching to the point of pain in Hob’s hair, legs tightening around Hob’s head. Hob nearly came himself at the feeling. Instead he swallowed again, sucking on Dream’s cock as it softened until Dream whimpered from overstimulation, and then Hob carefully let him go, finally able to take a full breath as Dream curled around his head, thighs trembling against Hob’s cheeks.

Hob turned his head to kiss his thigh, grazing his teeth over the small bruise he’d seen earlier, making Dream gasp. He uncurled himself from Hob, letting go of his death grip on Hob’s hair to instead caress his cheeks, run his thumb over Hob’s wet lower lip. Hob looked up, met his gaze, nearly perished at the look of blown-out pleasure there. He could live on that look, he thought, feed himself on it every day.

“Come here,” Dream ordered. Hob was helpless but to obey. He let Dream draw him up, disentangle them so Dream’s legs were around his waist instead of over his shoulders, and Dream plucked open the button on Hob’s jeans, pushed his underwear down far enough to take him out. Dream took him in hand, humming in appreciation.

“Like what you see?” Hob teased, but it came out far breathier than he intended, all of him going taut with Dream's hand on him. Dream only smiled slowly, stroking Hob, slow but firm.

“I do,” he said, and drew Hob in with his other hand wrapped around the back of Hob’s neck, sticking in the new sweat that had beaded along his skin, letting Hob rut into his fist. Hob kissed up the side of his neck, leaving marks, breath catching when Dream hooked a leg around the back of his thigh to pull him even closer.

“So perfect for me,” Dream praised, hand sliding up to curl in his hair while his other kept expertly working Hob’s cock. “Mmm. Later, I want you to fuck me properly. I want that gorgeous cock inside me. I know you will fill me so well. I want to feel you.”

All it really took was Dream’s sweet words to send Hob’s arousal boiling over. He gasped into Dream’s throat as he came, hips stuttering into Dream’s fist. Dream pet his hair as he came down from the high, wiping his hand off on his shirt. Hob kissed the side of his neck once more for good measure, tasting the sweat there, before finally pulling away.

“You really want me to fuck you?” he asked. “You going to—”

Dream laid a finger over his lips. “If you make a joke about me riding you I will walk out of this stable and never return.”

Hob broke down laughing, pressing his forehead against Dream’s shoulder. “You get that one a lot?”

“Constantly.”

“I’ll bet.”

Dream was chuckling, too, chest rumbling against Hob’s body. Hob liked the sound of it.

“Cross my heart, I swear I won’t make any jokes,” Hob promised.

He liked this. Leaning against Dream. Touching him. Sharing a soft moment. He liked it a lot.

Dream tipped his face back up with a fingertip under his chin. “I do still want you to fuck me,” he said, watching Hob with dark eyes. Hob swallowed hard. “Will you take me back to your rooms? For we are certainly not going back to mine.”

“Don’t want to involve your roommate?” Hob teased, and Dream sighed.

“Don’t make fun of my indignities,” he complained, and Hob laughed.

“I’m sorry, darling. You suffer so much. Your life is terribly difficult.”

“And you are making it worse by making me wait,” Dream complained.

Hob certainly didn’t want that. So he stood, tucking himself away again, and rearranged Dream in his shorts, helping him up. He paused then, wondering just how far this burgeoning thing between them went, before deciding, fuck it, and pulled Dream in for a soft kiss, hands light on his lower back. Hob was feeling very fond of him right then. He might as well show it.

Dream hummed into the kiss, sinking into him. When they separated, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“Perhaps you might make me breakfast in the morning, too,” he said, taking Hob’s hand.

“If you’re willing to wake up at six,” Hob said. “Because that’s when the horses get breakfast.”

Dream groaned dramatically, but didn’t let go of Hob’s hand, and as Hob tugged him out past the stall door and towards his lodgings at the far end of the stable, he was smiling, eyes bright. And Hob thought waking up to him before sunrise might be very beautiful indeed.

#hob looking at dream in his prissy little dressage outfit: i want that rich twink obliterated #i wrote this in one mad 24 hour span send help #dreamling #equestrian au #my writing #nsft #poor dream like 'i didn't get involved in horseriding to talk to PEOPLE leave me alone 😡 i wanna hang out with my horsey. fuck off'

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egotisticaleverything · 9 months ago

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YOUR NSFW HCS FOR MATTHEW PATEL IS SO DELICIOUS AND YUMMY!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you do NSFW alphabet of him please

MATTHEW PATEL

NSFW ALPHABET

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NOTE: sorry for dying again lmao im BACK and with MULTIPLE requests for Matty’s NSFW alphabet here I AM!!

WARNING/CONTAINS: face sitting, degrading, praise, mentions of public sex, bondage and mostly DOM! Reader

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s so huffy and puffy. Completely worn out- but he’ll try his best to take care of you and clean up, make sure you’re okay and comfortable and definitely cuddle with you. (Slightly awkwardly but that’s just Matty for you)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Partners: definitely a thigh guy, like he loves them. Like you’re lying on the couch and he just comes up and places his head between your thighs. He’s. Obsessed.

His: probably his hands, he’s really awkward but super handsy and touchy. At first not really but after a while he just needs to touch you constantly. All the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s super awkward so the first time you guys had sex and he came IN YOU he freaked out because he didn’t know if you wanted that or not. You assured you that was fine and that is probably his FAVOURITE place to cum. No debates.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a little into degrading… like if you walk in on him jerking off and start teasing him calling him “pathetic” and stuff he’ll literally die.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He was 100% a virgin when you met. Look at him. Hes felt the touch of only one woman ever. That woman being his middle school girlfriend. But he tries his best! He wants to make you feel good and he’s willing to put his all into it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. COWGIRL. He loves when you’re on top, maybe it’s just because he likes you being in charge and that’s the best position for you to do so in… but 100% will actually melt if you ride him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He thought the clitoris was alien propaganda. Enough said.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t grow that much hair except in his pubic area. He’s very well groomed but has a nice little happy trail leading up his lower torso.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so lovey dovey, blubbering almost incoherent praise and whines. Just constant- “I love you”s and “so good- just like that” or “pleasepleaseplease” even if he’s not begging for anything

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Super loud. Constantly whining and whimpering while he does it even if he tries to be quiet he’s horrible at it. He can not keep his mouth shut for more than 30 seconds without letting out a pornographic moan or whine.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Smell. He LOVES your smell. He’s definitely jacked off while sniffing your underwear before just craves anything that has your sent lingering on it. Especially if you’re away.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed, he wants you to feel comfortable and safe and what’s more comfortable and safe than your own bedroom? Also because he’s too embarrassed for public/semi public sex or even doing it on the couch most of the time.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Call him a good boy. I dare you. Run your fingers through this man’s hair and call him a good boy and tell him how handsome he looks and how amazing he is. He’ll literally fall to his knees and worship you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Piss. Shit. He’s scared. You’re scared. You’re both scared. Everyone is scared.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving it to you, he probably asked you to sit on his face atleast one time- really shyly obviously. He came up to you all quiet and stuttering while he asked. RECEIVING THO? he’ll praise you like you’re the second coming of Jesus Christ. “Just like that- so good” literally in love with the sight of you in your knees for him, his cock engulfed in your mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You usually take charge but when he does he’s kind of in the middle. He’s probably scared to go fast and rough- he’d be scared of hurting you or breaking something. He prefers slower or more paced sex. Very sensual and loving.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t hate them but doesn’t love them. He much rather have you all to himself for an extended period of time, he just wants you for ever and ever!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d be so shy that he’d probably stay very vanilla until you pushed him out of his comfort zone. He’s so scared to ask for things he’s just a nervous wreck 99% of the time.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You can and will overstimulate him. He can and will cry. Not in a bad way out of pleasure of course! He loves it though, he has good stamina you just live to see him whine and whimper under you sometimes… don’t we all?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s not opposed. Definitely teased him with a vibrator before, tying his hands to the bed and resting it on the tip of his cock, watching him whine and beg for too to stop teasing him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t like to tease BUT he loves to BE teased. Always resting your hand on his upper thigh dangerously close to his crotch, subtly calling him the nicknames you call him in bed in public, ect ect. He pretends to be annoyed but LOVES IT.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. LOUD. LOUD MAN. Whines, moans, grunts, whimpers, begging, dirty talk. He’s constantly blubbering incoherently he cannot and WILL NOT shut up. In a good way OFC!!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Probably wears a headband to keep his hair out of his face while eating you out or sucking you off- ONE OF THESE:

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s not very muscular, slightly scrawny but not completely. I’d say he’s an in between, like half scrawny nerd half toned gym bro.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a relatively normal sex drive, nothing crazy but he will complain if you guys are alone when he’s horny. 100%.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost instantly tbh. Right after clean up he’s OUT. Capoot. Gone.

#smut #scott pilgram takes off #scott pilgram vs the world #fanfic #fluff #scott pilgrim #drabble #matthew patel smut #matthew patel x reader #matthew patel #gideon graves #gideon graves smut #gideon graves x reader

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cocorulesz · 3 months ago

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𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 - chapter ¹!

hey, y’all! couple things befo we start! ..

- please do not steal, copy, use, translate or repost/remake my work anywhere. i work really hard on these and the image alone took some time. you get me? igh, COOL!😛

- i don’t swear😭 (expect no cussing)

- warnings: heartbreak idk?😂

tags: @trippinsorrows @shes2real

word counttt: 900+!!💓

OKAY, ENJOY, DUMPLINGS! (who the frick.)

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The air was thick with anticipation as she stood at the entrance of the grand hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Her father stood beside her, his comforting presence a steady anchor in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She was about to become a Mrs. Fatu, a title that filled her with both excitement and a touch of nervousness.

Her dress was a masterpiece of elegance, a flowing white gown that hugged her curves and cascaded down to the floor in a sea of satin and lace. The intricate patterns sparkled under the soft lighting, making her feel like a princess in a fairy tale. Her dark skin glowed with a radiant beauty, the contrast against the white dress making her look even more stunning. Her hair was styled in soft waves, a delicate tiara resting atop her head, completing the look of a bride ready to walk down the aisle.

As she glanced at her father, she saw the happiness in his eyes, and it gave her the strength she needed. She was excited, yes, but also nervous. The thought of committing her life to Joshua Fatu, the man she loved, was both thrilling and terrifying. But as the music began to play and the doors slowly opened, she knew in her heart that this was the beginning of a beautiful journey.

“You ready fo’ this, baby?” her dad asked, leaning in so his daughter could hear over the music she had picked. She smiled and nodded, still looking over at Joshua and replied with “never been more ready for anything, daddy”. Matthew, her father, acknowledged the response with a nod and led her further down the aisle. Josh turned around as everyone stood from their seats happy to see the bride. But instead of turning around with a big smile plastered on his face and tears rolling down his cheeks, he looked more worried. Scared, if you may.

As she reached the altar, her mind raced with thoughts and emotions. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Josh’s worried expression was unsettling, but she reminded herself of the love they shared and the journey that had brought them to this moment. “You look beautiful” Joshua had said, in which Mariella responded with “Thank you, you look good too!”, not forgetting to add a smile. Josh’s eyes met hers, and for a brief second, she saw a flicker of the man she knew so well. His dark hair was neatly styled into his classic mullet, red at the end, and his tuxedo fit him perfectly, highlighting his buff, bulky build. Despite the worry etched on his face, he looked every bit the groom she had dreamed of. She took her place beside him, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to him. Josh allowed her to take his hand but he looked away, resulting in Mariella dropping her hand from his. The warmth of his touch reassured her anyways, and she felt a surge of determination. Whatever was troubling him, they would face it together.

The officiant began to speak, but her focus was entirely on Josh. She searched his eyes for answers, hoping to understand what was going through his mind. As the ceremony progressed, she felt a mix of hope and fear. She wanted to believe that their love was strong enough to overcome any obstacle, but the uncertainty in Josh’s eyes made her heart ache.

When it was time for their vows, she took a deep breath and spoke from her heart. “Josh, from the moment I met you, I knew you were the one I wanted to spend my life with. Today, as I stand here about to become a Mrs. Fatu, I promise to love you, support you, and face whatever challenges come our way, together.” Joshua couldn’t help but to smile.

When it was Josh’s turn, he took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “F-from the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You’ve brought so much joy and love into my life. Today, standing here with you, I .. vow to always support you, to be your rock, and to cherish every moment we share. I vow to be the, uh, best partner I can be, to-“ he sucked in a breath and muttered the rest. “-g-grow with you, and to face…and to face, uhm, every challenge together.” he coughs awkwardly afterwards.

As he finished, there was a brief pause. The officiant then asked the pivotal question, “Do you, Joshua Fatu, take her to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

Josh’s face tightened, and he hesitated. He looked deep in Mariella’s eyes, a permanent smile put onto her face, and took both of her hands. As he hesitated for around 5 seconds, Mari’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and her wide smile lessened. The room seemed to hold its breath, everyone hoping for the best outcome.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “I..I-I do not.”

A gasp rippled through the crowd, and her heart shattered. She felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under her. The man she loved, the man she was about to marry, had just said no. The pain and embarrassment were overwhelming, and she could barely process what was happening.

…………

At that moment, Mariella woke up from her sleep.

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not i left y’all on a cliffhanger? womp, womp. lol sorry, that was rude 😭😭

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