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dilf-docs · 5 months ago

Text

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

#dilfistwrites #gladiator II #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #taylor swift #reputation #call it what you want #paul mescal #call it what you want series

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tetsvya · 1 year ago

Text

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader

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crescenthistory · 8 months ago

Text

Toe The Line

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: Barty's relentless flirting with you comes to a head one evening in the Slytherin common room when you confront him.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: not proofread, let's be clear this is maraudersfandom!barty with part-dyed-acid-green-hair, shy!reader kinda, flirting, insinuations, make-out session, teasing, all that stuff

Note: i do not feel like this does barty my love my life justice, but i have to start pumping out barty fics to get comfortable with him. so! here you go mwah

***

It was one of those icy nights in the Slytherin common room, where the air was sharp but the fire crackled invitingly, casting playful shadows over the lush green velvet couches. You were sprawled on one end of the sofa, leg propped onto Regulus' shoulder as he sat on the floor, flipping through another pretentious novel of his. Barty sat on the other side of the two-seater, watching you as you flipped through your Transfiguration notes like they held the secrets of the universe. The room buzzed with a quiet chatter. You were half-listening to Evan enthusiastically recounting the latest Quidditch practice to Dorcas, who looked thoroughly unimpressed but still indulged him.

Barty, carelessly draped across the cushions, peered over your shoulder and into your notes, as if to check if they were more worthy of your attention. To no one's surprise, he didn't think so. He always managed to hover around you, like a moth drawn to your flame, whether it was leaning over your shoulder to whisper something devilish or positioning himself within your line of sight to make faces at you. Tonight, all it seemed he wanted was your undivided attention – which you were intent on not giving him.

“You’re ignoring me, dolly,” Barty drawled, the familiar lilt of amusement in his voice. You didn’t need to turn around to envision the lazy, reckless grin that could disarm even the most stubborn of hearts.

“I’m studying,” you replied, still engrossed in your notes. “You should really give it a go sometime.”

He scoffed, swinging one leg over the edge of the couch. “Come off it. You know I don’t need to study.”

Regulus muttered from below you, flipping a page in his book, “You just like to show off.”

Barty tilted his head back, a smug smile stretching across his lips. “It’s not showing off when you just naturally excel at everything.”

Evan erupted into a loud laugh from across the room, cutting his own rant off. “Merlin, if there is anything you've studied, Junior, it's how to be insufferable!”

“You love me,” Barty shot back smoothly, a playful glint in his eye.

No one could in their right mind argue against that.

Dorcas rolled her eyes, exchanging a look with you that was practically screaming he’s ridiculous. You stifled a grin, still pretending to focus on your notes while Barty’s gaze lingered like a heatwave over you.

"Don't you, baby?" he teased, his voice dropping to that familiar, sultry tone that always sent a shiver down your spine as you immediately readied another quip to calm it down.

“It is true what they say: you’re delusional,” you said, not even glancing at him.

“Maybe,” he mused, kicking off the arm of the couch to slide closer to your side of the already small couch. You felt the heat radiating from him before you even saw him, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over, pretending to inspect your notes like he actually cared about Transfiguration.

"But you haven’t denied it," he murmured, his voice soft enough that only you caught it.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his eyes, which sparkled with chaotic energy but held something deeper – a secret simmering just beneath the surface. You opened your mouth to retort, but Regulus tapped your knee still draped over him with his quill.

“If you two are going to flirt,” Regulus interjected, barely glancing up from his book, “take it outside my personal space, would you?”

A soft snort came from Evan, and Dorcas just grinned, clearly more entertained by this than Evan's ramblings.

“Who said we were flirting?” Barty countered, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders as if to make a point. “Our little swot here is actually absolutely laser-focused on her studies. She will become a professor if we don't watch out for her.”

You rolled your eyes, giving Barty's body a shove with your own. It was not lost on Regulus, though, that you leaned into his side after the shove, seemingly on instinct.

This was classic Barty – always encroaching on personal space, always testing the boundaries between friendship and something a bit more electric. It never meant anything, though

Evan caught your eye, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face. “If that’s your definition of studying, I must be doing it all wrong. Dorcas, wanna study with me in my dorm later?”

This led to Evan earning his own shove, though much harsher than the one you had given Barty, and for both Regulus and Dorcas to say ew in unison through their laughter.

“Maybe you should head to your dorm; y'know I like you much better when you focus on your own sodding business, Rosier." Barty barked out a laugh at your comment, unnecessarily loudly, but funny to you all the same.

“Touchy, touchy,” Evan replied, but his teasing was always good-natured in this odd little family of friends.

Barty kept his arm around you as the banter continued, and despite your best efforts to maintain an air of indifference, you couldn’t ignore the way your skin tingled under his touch. If you didn't know better, you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch when your hand settled on his knee, rubbing circles with your fingertips.

As the evening wore on, the common room began to thin out. Regulus was the first to excuse himself, ever the model of discipline when it came to sleep. Your leg was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, earning him an oi! from Barty and a kick from you that he just barely dodged. Evan followed suit, muttering something about needing to “wake up at a decent hour for once.” Dorcas lingered for a moment, chatting about Herbology homework before she too yawned and slipped off to bed, leaving you and Barty alone by the fire.

It was nothing new for the two of you to be the last ones awake, always having more to talk about together. After midnight, the common room transformed – quieter, more intimate, like it was cocooned away from the rest of the world. You both preferred it that way.

"Finally," Barty sighed, slumping back against the couch, and consequently you, stretching out his legs over the edge of the seat. “I thought Ev would never stop talking.”

You chuckled softly, finally putting your parchment aside. “You could’ve told him to shut it. I know you're not above that."

Barty smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Where’s the fun in that?”

"I remember quite a few times where you have found it hilarious to tell someone to shut the hell up."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm taking a more peaceful path. Your stupid homework-doing righteous self is rubbing off on me." Barty flashed you a smile that you instinctively reciprocated.

"Nah, don't think peaceful and Barty can exist in the same sentence."

He knew it to be true, he thrived on chaos – letting moments unravel just to see what would happen next. It was a double-edged sword; you adored that spark in him, but it often left you exasperated.

Once the others drifted off, the atmosphere shifted palpably. It was always like this between the two of you – lighter, sure, but also heavier in a way that pressed against your chest. The playful banter flowed effortlessly, yet beneath it simmered a tension that had been thickening over the last few months.

"I mean it though," Barty continued. "You’re way too serious these days." His gaze fixed on you with that familiar gleam in his eye, with perhaps a smidge of worry beneath it. No one knew you like Barty, and he could switch between jokingly obnoxious and pointedly observant in seconds.

You arched an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “Me? Serious? You must be mistaking me for someone who doesn’t have a sense of fun.”

“Always with your nose buried in a book, always playing it safe.” He leaned in closer, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “You didn’t used to be such a stick in the mud.”

"I also didn't used to be in my last year. Things count now, B."

"Nothing ever really counts though, do they?" He started smiling halfway through his sentence, just knowing you were about to roll your eyes at him in a fashion only Regulus can outdo.

“I’m just not reckless like you,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “There’s a fine line between adventurous and asking for a detention’s worth of trouble.”

Barty’s grin only stretched wider. “You love it when I’m reckless. Admit it.”

There it was again, that playful dare in his tone, like every word was a challenge wrapped in an invitation. You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “One of these days, you are going to drag me into some real trouble, and I won't love you very much then.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe. But you’ll still be right there beside me, won’t you, baby?”

Barty was always pushing boundaries to see how far he could go before you drew the line. But there was something intense and raw in the way he was looking at you now, making your heart race faster than it should.

“I'll always be there with you, don't be stupid," you huffed, wanting to change the subject. You broke eye contact, staring off into the embers left in the fireplace.

"I know." He just smiled, unaffected by your attitude.

"You’re impossible,” you countered.

That Barty wasn’t about to let slide. "If I'm so unbearable, why don't you go up to your dorm, hm?" He raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“Only because I’m too lazy to walk back to the dorms.” You picked at your nail beds absentmindedly.

“Liar,” he said softly, putting his hand on top of yours to stop the torment of your skin.

You were about to shoot him a glare, but the retort you had in mind faltered when you met his gaze. The playful glimmer had vanished, replaced by something sharper, more intimate. He shifted in his seat to be angled more towards you, leaning in closer, the heat radiating from him making your mind race.

“It's okay to want to spend your nights with me. There's nothing I'd like more,” he murmured, the challenge evident in his low tone.

Your heart stuttered. The closeness made it nearly impossible to think straight. You wanted to volley back with a witty comeback, something that would break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat.

Barty’s smirk softened into something more vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to take the plunge. It was an unspoken invitation, daring you to either push him away or draw him in.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing heavily between you. “Stop flirting with me, Barty,” you whispered, barely audible. “I might start believing it.”

For once, he looked confused. It was hard not to revel in it, though the moment had you reeling.

"You think I’m not serious?" he asked, the playful lilt gone, replaced by sincerity. It wasn't necessarily rare for Barty to drop the bravado around you, but it still made your chest clutch when he did. It made everything feel a bit too real.

Your breath caught as you held his gaze, his eyes scanning yours, searching for something.

"Barty..." you began, but the words floundered. What were you really trying to say? That this was risky? That you didn’t want to lose what you had? Or was it possible you were craving this – craving him – in a way that exceeded your playful banter, the lighthearted flirting you knew he shared with most friends of his.

"Yes, love?"

"How come you never use my actual name?" you tease, trying to regain some control of the situation.

Barty’s lips curled into the faintest smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You never have minded when I use all these pet names, have you?" he said, his voice dropping lower, softer. “Not when it’s just us. Not even when everyone else is around.”

"It's all just fun. Sweet." You deflect and deflect, both verbally and internally.

He leaned in closer, eyes locked on yours, daring you to say something, anything. His hand travelled from his side to caress your neck. "Is this fun, love? Go on. Tell me to stop."

You could feel his breath against your skin, warm and tantalisingly close. Your mind raced, grasping for the right words to break the tension, but all you could think about was how effortless it would be to close the distance between you.

He smiled at you, and it felt warm.

“You’re different with me,” he mused, his tone thoughtful, like he was just realising the truth of it. "You let me in, even when you pretend you don’t."

You wanted to argue, to throw up your usual walls, but he wasn’t wrong. You were different with him. You allowed him to cross lines that you wouldn’t let anyone else dare to tread. Maybe that’s why you felt so exposed now, his gaze piercing through your defences – like he already knew the answer to a question you hadn’t even formed yet.

You tore your gaze away, focusing on the flames flickering in the hearth. “This is stupid,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

Barty chuckled softly, the sound warm and low, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper that made your heart skip. "Is it, though?" he asked, fingers now ghosting along your wrist, making it impossible to think about anything other than the electricity igniting with each point of contact.

"Yes, it is, Barty," you said again, a little firmer this time, turning back to meet his gaze. “You’re just playing with me. And we shouldn't.” You didn't elaborate, you didn't want to.

He tilted his head, studying you like he always did when you tried to deflect. "I play with everyone,” he said, not missing a beat. “But I’m not playing with you right now. Or ever, really, not with this.”

Your lips parted to respond, but nothing came out. You had expected him to laugh it off, to tease you the way he always did when things got too serious. There was no teasing in his expression now, no playful smirk – just that steady, unblinking gaze that pinned you in place. It was understanding, he looked as if he knew every part of you already.

"You don’t believe me," he stated, as if reading off a fact.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours, how his hand had somehow found its way to your knee, his thumb rubbing small, absentminded circles against the fabric of your trousers.

"I don’t know what to believe," you admitted, the words coming out quieter than you intended.

Barty’s gaze softened, his hovering hand finally making contact with your face, cupping your jaw.

“You think I flirt with you just for fun?” he asked, his voice barely more than a murmur now.

Your throat was tight, your chest constricting as you tried to find the right words. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go with Barty. He was supposed to be the reckless, chaotic one. He wasn’t supposed to be like this – serious and sincere.

“I think you flirt with everyone,” you finally said, though it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Barty didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away, didn’t make some sarcastic quip like you expected him to. Instead, he leaned in even closer, so close now that his nose brushed against yours. His breath was warm against your lips, and your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

"Not like this," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Not with you."

The fire crackled softly behind you, the only sound in the otherwise silent common room, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heartbeat and the steady rhythm of Barty’s breathing.

You wanted to say something, to deflect, to joke, to put up some sort of defence. But when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was his name. "Barty..."

His hand on your knee squeezed slightly, grounding you in the moment, tethering you to him. You could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you – the years of friendship, the flirting, the tension that had been building and building until it felt like it might burst.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice soft but firm. "I mean it. Every time. Tell me you don’t feel it too."

You swallowed, your heart racing, your mind spinning. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours, the heat of his hand still resting on your leg, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. Everything inside you was screaming at you to do something, to make a choice.

"I..." you started, but the words caught in your throat. You wanted to deny it, to laugh it off, to tell him that this was just another one of his games, but the truth was, you couldn’t. Because you did feel it—the pull, the tension, the way your heart stuttered every time he looked at you like that.

"I can't tell you that, Barty."

His eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you right then and there. He didn’t move. He just stayed there, inches away, waiting. For you.

"Then what–" he began to ask, but with your heart hammering in your chest, every nerve in your body on edge, eyes looking directly up into his.

"Shut up, Junior."

You leaned in, closing the gap between you, your lips pressing against his in a way that felt deliciously right.

For a split second, you hesitated again, wondering if you’d made a mistake, if Barty would pull back and laugh it off like it was nothing. Any such thought was immediately quieted when his head caught up with your actions and his hand swerved from your cheek to your hair, tangling in it as he pulled you further against him into a deeper kiss.

It was everything you’d expected from him – reckless, intense, like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had. His hand slid up from your knee to your waist, pulling you even closer as his lips moved against yours, firm and insistent.

You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, holding yours tentatively. You opened your mouth further, taking his lips between yours, dragging forth a breathy moan from him. Your intensity matched the months – maybe years – of tension that had built between you. His fingers curled at the nape of your neck in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

It was messy, frantic, but it was undeniably real. The playful flirtations, the casual touches, the late nights spent with your group of friends, all the little moments that had led to this – it all came flooding back as your lips moved together in a way that felt both unfamiliar and natural at the same time.

Barty kissed you like he had been waiting for it, like he was making up for lost time. Maybe he was. Maybe you both were.

Your fingers found purchase on the front of his shirt and you used the momentum to throw your leg over his lap, sitting down on top of him. His hand not currently occupying your hair immediately came down to your hip, stabilising you with an iron grip. He pulled you closer with it, chest flush against chest. The kiss was growing more desperate, more demanding, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the smell of his cologne mixing with the faint scent of the fire still barely alive behind you.

When you finally pulled apart, it was only because you both needed air. Your forehead rested against his, noses still brushing against each other, Barty even nuzzling his into yours. Your breaths coming in shallow, uneven pants. Barty’s fingers remained tangled in your hair, his other hand still gripping your waist like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Neither of you spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft crackling of the fire and the heavy rhythm of your breathing. Barty kept his eyes closed, eyebrows scrunched, and you studied his face with fondness sitting heavily in your heart. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, attempting to match his with your own. Momentarily, your mind flashed back to when he coached you through your first panic attack when you were younger, fingers tightening on his chest as you were flooded with overwhelming emotion for him. What you knew to be overwhelming love.

His eyes fluttered open, dark, intense, and focused entirely on you. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered, his voice rough and still a little breathless.

"I might," you countered, your smile brushing his.

Barty let out a soft laugh, but there was nothing teasing about it. He sounded almost relieved, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. "I swear I am not playing with you, baby," he murmured, as if it was of the utmost importance to him that you understood that

“I didn’t know,” you said quietly, your fingers loosening their grip on his shirt, though you didn’t let go completely. “I didn’t think–”

“You didn’t think I could be serious?” he finished for you, his lips quirking up in that familiar half-smile, though there was still a rawness to his expression that made your chest tighten.

You shook your head, struggling to find the right words. “I didn’t think you wanted to be serious with me.”

Barty’s smile softened even more if possible, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “I always want to be serious with you,” he said bashfully, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But you’re always trying to push me away."

You blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. He wasn’t wrong. You had pushed him away. Every time he flirted, every time he got too close, you deflected, afraid of what it would mean if you let him in like that. Traumabonding was one thing, it was discussing the past and how it still affected you – but to open up about your emotions now? It had seemed impossible. But, sitting here with him – on top of him, really – his forehead resting against yours, his lips still tingling from the kiss you had just shared, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

“You're right," you admitted softly, having to resist rolling your eyes at his sudden grin at those words. "I didn’t want to ruin things. We’re friends. If this… if we–”

“It's more than that,” Barty said, cutting you off. "It's about want. You have to let me want you, because trust me, I will."

You bit your lip, the weight of his words sinking in. Now that the invisible line you drew in your head had been crossed, now that you’d felt his lips on yours, there was no going back.

"How do I do that?" Your voice wavered, but your gaze didn't. Only Barty would you trust with that kind of question.

He gave you a smile you were afraid to call lovesick. His hands both slid to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing the curve of your jaw in a way that made your heart race all over again. "You tell me what you want. What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and rough, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat as you looked at him. This was the moment, the moment where you could pull back, laugh it off, pretend it hadn’t happened. Or you could take the leap, cross the line completely, and see where it led you.

“I want…” You swallowed, your voice faltering for a moment before you met his gaze head-on. “I want you.”

“Then I am all yours, my love.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, softer this time, slower. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the two of you, finally giving in to something that had been simmering between you for so long.

As his lips moved against yours, and you melted into him, all the tension from before fading away. It was simple and real in a way that made you wonder why you would ever shy away from this. Kissing Barty felt like clarity.

The smile that spread across your face when you pulled apart would go on to fuel Barty for days on end.

“See?” he joked quietly, his voice light but full of meaning. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You pretended to scoff, though your smile didn't waver. “You really are impossible.”

Barty grinned, one hand slipping from your face to rest casually on your thigh. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need to. The look in your eyes said everything.

You let him want you.

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facefullofsadness · 5 months ago

Note

Okayy okayy listen ceo!jimin g!p like how would she treat fem!reader they're married too

they're like barely married in this but yk wtv, they're sweet and fuck a lot (I really forgot how to write it's kinda crazy)

OKAY HI I NEED TO KNOCK SOME OF THESE OUT TO GET BACK INTO THE SWING OF WRITING!!! ceo g!p jimin who's married to reader is actually such a softie for her wife. tell me why I envision the fifty shades of gray concept where you're her assistant at the start/you work for her and after some time you get closer and get together? idk it just seems right for rina.

I think that jimin has the absolute softest spot for y/n which actually makes them working together really counter-productive for the same reason. the way rina gets easily distracted when you're in the room, averting her gaze from whatever is in front of her and what her company would say is more important to instead look at you mesmerized, the woman who so obviously is actually more important. they wanna separate the two of you so work can actually get done but well, when the ceo says you're working in her office and that's final? you just have to concede.

at first it's pretty civil, working on documents together, her using the most gentle and calming voice to make sure you don't feel stressed or pressured, exchanging flirty glances and smiles, just for her to run her hand along your thigh as she intently studies marketing graphs, glasses on the bridge of her nose making her look more enticing than she needs to be. you try not to let it phase you but it's karina ykwim, eventually you're on her lap and pushing her back against her chair, her hands holding you by your hips and her lips on your neck, making involuntary noises escape your mouth.

her office is soundproofed and only has one way windows for this exact reason, yall just can't stop fucking! no one dares knock on miss yu's door when you're in her office, knowing it was more than likely her cock was deeply sheathed in your wet and clenching pussy, drilling in and out of you as you screamed into her neck. she's fucking you so aggressively and desperately into her desk, pinning you almost painfully into the hard wood as she thrusts her long dick in and out of your cunt, the juices spilling all over the surface and painting her pelvis with your combined wetness as it seeps down your slit.

she pounds into you with no remorse and pants pathetically into your ear as your throat hurts from the sheer amount of screaming you've done, her cock ruining your insides so perfectly that you can't think logically. moaning into your ear sweet nothings as she encourages you and tells you how good it feels to have her cock completely buried in that hot and juicy hole. fuck y/n you feel so fucking good, I'm gonna breed you, pump you full of our kids yeah? you'll let me do that right, sweetheart? ahhh shit, baby oh my god this pussy belongs to me, my wife's cunt is made for my cock... she continues to word vomit all up in your ear without even thinking as you mumble incomprehensibly just how delicious the feeling of her cock inside of you feels.

needless to say either you're fucking each other or you're disgustingly clingy, workplace or home. don't even mention the honeymoon... somehow though through all those distractions, you both manage to get the work done in no time so much to everyone's dismay, they can't really complain. jimin is the ceo after all, no one is gonna mess with her or her precious wife.

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purinfelix · 4 months ago

Text

ᯓ crawling back to you ⋆.˚ - [ L.HS ]

summary: it's been almost two months since you've seen Heeseung, but now he's on your doorstep, drunk, desperate - and without his phone pairing: reader x exbf! heeseung || non-idol au, mentions of drinking and some unwanted touching, sfw mostly fluff/angst || w/c: 1.8k

a/n: ok this idea lowkey came to me so randomly AND ended up being way longer than i planned but i don't know what it is i love pathetic yearning men

You'd be lying if you said you were completely shocked. Even as you reached for the door handle after hearing a faint knock, a part of you already envisions him behind the door - maybe it's your intuition after countless late nights just like this, but a part of you deep down considers the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it might be hope.

"Heeseung," you breathe out once you see him, your tone of disappointment thinly veiled as a shock.

This is definitely the drunkest you've seen him, and judging from the way he's swaying side to side unsteadily and struggling to lift his head up to look at you - you'd say it's the drunkest he's been in a while.

He doesn't even greet you, just stumbles towards you, limp body crashing into yours sending you back a couple steps. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, which are burning warm as he writhes under your touch, letting out a soft hum, that if you didn't know any better you might've taken as a sign of satisfaction.

"You drank too much," you huff, trying your best to maintain the air of annoyance you feel at him showing up, mostly because if you don't you know you'll be far too quick to let him in. "You should go home," you say to him.

He only lets out a faint whine in response, clearly not wanting to obey as he snakes an arm around your waist, burying his flushed face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself slip, and for just a second your back arches, pushing yourself flush against him.

But you manage to catch yourself, pushing him away by the shoulders even as he resists you. Finally, as he lets out a breathy pant and flicks his hair away from his forehead, you get a glimpse of his face - and almost immediately you feel a strange pang in your heart as you do.

He looks almost exactly the same as the day you left him, large doe eyes staring into yours with his brows furrowed just enough to seem pleading, begging you not to make him leave. Only now his cheeks are far more flushed and underneath his eyes are dark rings - a sign that he hasn't been taking care of himself nearly as well as you'd hoped.

"I missed you," he says, and his voice is so tiny you barely recognise it. But the desperation in his tone and the way his bottom lip quivers as he speaks is far too familiar .

You can't turn him away, not now, not when he's here and drunk and looking at you like that.

"C'mon in," you sigh, guiding him gently with an arm around his waist as he naturally loops his around your shoulder, leaning his body weight against yours. It isn't easy but you manage to make your way to your living room, letting him lay down on your couch. His eyes are already half closed as he lies down, and you feel a slight relief at the thought that maybe this night won't be as difficult as you had initially believed.

"Give me your keys and phone, I'll look after them while you rest," you say, kneeling beside the couch so that you're level with his eyes.

They flutter back open for just long enough that you feel your cheeks heating up at the close eye contact, even more, once you notice a smile spreading across his face.

"You look even prettier than I remember," he hums to himself and you can't help but let out an indignant scoff to cover up how flustered you feel. He's drunk, he doesn't mean it you tell yourself as you move to search for his belongings to take care of. You pat down his jacket pocket and manage to track down his keys - though not without him squirming under your touch, letting out immature giggles. But his phone is nowhere to be found.

As if summoned by the sudden panic you feel at the thought of him losing his phone, your own phone lets out a chime from where you've left it on the coffee table. Weirdly enough when you pick it up you see it's a notification from Heeseung, or at least, his phone.

[ hello? ]

The thought of some stranger stealing his phone and running off with it worries you, and so you're quick to type back as you settle onto the floor next to the couch.

[ hi? ] [ hey! this is Jake, i'm Heeseungs friend, tho i'm not sure if we ever properly met ]

You let out a faint sigh of relief. The name sounds familiar enough to bring up memories of Heeseung mentioning the people in his classes - so you choose to believe him.

[ oh, right, were you out with him earlier? ] [ yeah, i'm guessing he already made it to your place ]

You furrow your brows as irritation suddenly washes over you, his friend knew he would come here and didn't stop him?

[ how do you know that? ] [ wait, did he not? ] [ no, he did, i'm just curious why you assumed it so quickly ] [ well he was talking about you all night, kept mentioning wanting to see you again so ... ] [ oh, right ] [ tho that's not much difference to what he's like every day ] [ ??? wdym ] [ he talks about you all the time ]

You pause, eyes wandering from your phone screen to the couch behind you which Heeseung's sprawled across, long limbs barely fitting. You can hear soft snores as he sleeps, and if you look for long enough you can see his chest rising and falling gently.

He talks about you all the time.

You don't know what shocks you more, the fact that he - the man who you broke up with, admittedly pretty coldly, almost a month ago, talks about you - someone who he should regard with bitterness and maybe even hatred, all the time.

The buzzing of your phone in your hand brings you back to the present.

[ hello? everything alright? ] [ yeah, yeah sorry he's alright he's just sleeping on my couch right now ] [ wow, thanks, i figured you'd just turn him away but i guess i can head back home knowing he's with you ] [ wait, you have his phone tho? ] [ yeah, he forgot it at the restaurant when he left for your place ] [ typical ] [ yep lol ]

You pause again, chewing your bottom lip as you consider whether to ask the question that's been plaguing your mind - but you figure you can't let an opportunity like this go without at least getting some answers and so without too much thought your fingers move swiftly to type it out.

[ has he been doing ok? ] [ it's hard to say, i mean, we think so but he's definitely been different ]

The painful pang in your heart strikes again, though this time it's closer to a sinking feeling. The thought of Heeseung not taking care of himself, being in pain or upset is one thing - but knowing that it's because of you hurts in a way you can't describe. Though, you're considerate enough not to let this show in your response.

[ i see ] [ don't beat yourself up over it tho, he'll be alright. I'll make sure he is ] [ thanks, i appreciate it ] [ anytime ] [ how come you didn't stop him from coming over? ] [ dude we tried, but he was too insistent ] [ seriously? ] [ you should've seen him, i thought he might start throwing punches if we didn't let him be ] [ and none of you thought to come with him? make sure he got here safe? i mean, he drank a lot right? ] [ i was going to, but he wouldn't let me - said something about wanting to go alone, and none of us deserving to see you ]

You pause again, and even though the thought of your ex boyfriend drunkenly fighting with his friends is a little funny, even to you - you can't help but feel confused about this entire situation. Why, out of all the people he knew, would Heeseung come to see you, at a time like this?

It's as if Jake is able to read your mind with his perfect timing and as your phone buzzes again you look down at it to see his message.

[ he must really feel safe with you ]

As soon as the message appears you find yourself unconsciously reading it over and over, as if it might change at any minute. Change into something that isn't so difficult to digest, something along the lines of "he wasn't thinking right" or "he was just desperate for a place to crash" - something that doesn't hurt so much because you know, deep down, that it's true, and you want it to be.

But no matter how many times you reread it, the words and the truth stay the same and even as you switch off your phone with trembling hands, it echoes in your mind.

He must really feel safe with you.

With a tired sigh, you slowly shift to get up and head to your own room, but somehow Heeseung's hand finds its way into yours - intertwining your fingers tightly in a way you wish didn't bring you so much comfort. He pulls on it, mumbling something that sounds like "don't go" in a tiny, pleading voice. You're unsure of whether he's actually awake or even knows what he's saying, but you still do as he says, sitting back down and keeping his hand in yours. With your other hand, you brush a couple stray strands of hair away from his forehead allowing you to get a better look at his face - which you're realising you've missed a lot more than you realised.

Maybe tomorrow when he wakes up, you'll get to properly talk about this, about what happened between you two. Or maybe he'll be too embarrassed and will play it all of as a big joke. Or maybe he'll be too ashamed to even talk to you, instead leaving without saying so much as a word.

The possibilities play out in your head one after another, but the only thing you can focus on is the fact that, at least for now, he's here, lying on your couch sleeping peacefully, and you are too, holding his hand. And at least for tonight, the two of you are together and everything is alright.

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 months ago

Text

Diet Pepsi (18+)

A modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader smutshot

When we drive in your car, I'm your baby So sweet Losing all my innocence in the backseat

a/n : how do I explain this? I suppose the song Diet Pepsi got stuck in my head, and when I watched the music video, the only male lead I could envision in that sorta situation is our Aemond/Ewan. So here ya go! Reading time... depends on what you get into 😉💋

masterlist

themes/warnings : pure smut, filthy actions and filthy language, complete disregard for sports car interiors, old money boyfriend Aemond x bratty internet starlet girlfriend reader, sticky surfaces, foggy windows, wayward fingers, sliding tongues, and YES YES YES

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your boyfriend glances at you from the corner of his eye, barely, his attention remaining on the road. But his veiny hand reaches over to squeeze your thigh, fully exposed beneath the scrap of pale pink fabric that you try to pass off as a miniskirt.

Mission accomplished. After only a few minutes of pretending to stew while looking out the window, he is quick to sense that something is amiss with his kitten.

"Nothing," you respond in the best downcast tone you can manage, fighting the urge to clench your thighs to trap his thick fingers in the warmth between.

"Come on now," he clicks his tongue, "don't play around."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've barely looked at me since you got in the fucking car." Poor baby. You're getting to him, as planned.

Time to rile him up in a way that only you can. "Do you think Maris is pretty?"

He scoffs, "Don't start, kitten."

"So you do," you egg him on. "I knew it. You were looking at her tits earlier. I bet you loved it when that skank bent over in front of you. Gave you a good view."

"Kitten, please," his grip on your flesh tightens, trying to get you stop. "You're being ridiculous."

"And you didn't answer my question, Aemond," you snap back, grabbing his hand and prying it from your leg.

"Fuck's sake," he groans. He then rests both his hands on the steering wheel, at the standard 10 and 2, grasping onto it so roughly that the leather squeaks.

You called him Aemond. Not babe. Not handsome. You must be pissed, for some imagined reason, and he simply does not have the time.

Impatient, he goes off on a tirade, "You've asked me this shit before, babe, and my answer remains the same. I don't care about any other girl. You're the only one that I want, that I will ever want."

Licking your lips, and looking slyly at him behind your done-up eyelashes, you say, "You could've fooled me." He raises his brow at your childishness, muscles flexing under his tight white shirt as he makes a sharp turn. You continue, "I know what I saw. You want her, is that it? Is it because she's got status like you?"

"You have status," he corrects you, "The whole damn country practically knows your name."

"But it's not the same," you moan. "I didn't come from money. My blood isn't blue."

He sighs audibly, "We talked about this. None of that fucking matters, kitten. Especially not to me."

You cross your legs, leaning against the car door as if to inch away from him, your devilishly handsome silver-haired aristocratic boyfriend. The very one you're so keen on tormenting now. "You don't know how I feel."

But he does. You've long since lost track of the countless times you've been blindsided by an uncharacteristic wave of self-doubt. You, infamous for being one of the bubbliest and most outgoing personalities on the internet, your lifestyle guides and fashion spreads a mainstay on every social media platform.

But ever since you started dating Aemond, you can't help but feel unworthy sometimes. He is Aemond Targaryen after all, a glowing young heir to one of the most powerful families in the country, his lineage extending back to the great Valyrian empire.

Old money, as they say. That was his life, but before him, you thought old money was just some fashion trend that dominated your Pinterest boards.

You met at a charity gala for the Hightower Foundation. Unaware of who he was, he was simply a hot guy you set your sights on, and you managed to get his attention by accidentally spilling your espresso martini down his crisp tailored shirt.

Women were not usually that forward when approaching him, especially not those who ran in the same circles as him, like the Baratheon sisters or the Tyrell heiress. But you were different. You were simply, unabashedly yourself. Your biggest asset was you - your personality, your style, your genuine warmth that allows you to build connections with anyone in the industry - you didn't walk into a room with the snootiness and entitlement of a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

The chemistry was instant, overriding any superficial issues that may arise from someone like him getting with someone like you. Which is why you snuck out of the gala together, and fucked each other senseless in the backseat of his car, sweaty and giggling and whispering sweet nothings like you were already long-time lovers back then.

As you are now, nearly two years later. Aemond's love for you has only grown a thousand fold, and he shows this every day.

The car idles at a stop sign. He reaches for your face and implores, "Kitten, look at me, please."

"No," you impetuously say, making him drop his hand.

"Baby, come on."

"Don't feel like it, Aemond."

The light turns green. The car zooms past houses and open fields. Shops and smaller, unknown places of business. They all come together in a blur. The tension is at an all-time high in the car, just as you intended.

He makes several maneuvers, and the scenery outside begins to look unfamiliar to you. The street you enter next is particularly quiet, almost empty, all the shops closed for the day or boarded up. It's likely on the outskirts of King's Landing, far from the Targaryen estate in its central area of Red Keep.

"You still gonna be a brat?" he asks lowly.

You smirk, "Don't call me a fucking brat."

"Have it your way, kitten," he says, and it sounds like a promise. The car pulls up to a vacant parking lot behind an old restaurant, the surrounding area covered by a thin tree line. There is no one, and nothing in sight.

He leans back, and takes a few deep breaths.

"You've been a bad girl, my kitten."

"Have I?" you bite your lip, no longer fighting the urge to clench your thighs. The miniskirt rides up higher, and his eyes become drawn to the sight, his cock hardening underneath his blue jeans.

He hums, leaning over and grabbing your jaw towards him with one hand, "Yeah, bringing shit up like that. Like I would ever look at anyone besides you."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Want me to fucking mention the time you actually flirted with the Stark boy in front of me?"

"I wasn't - "

"Shut up, kitten," he spits. "I'm not dumb."

His voice dips low, and you feel your cunny growing wet and slick. Gods, he is so hot like this. Assertive yet downright sensual. He only wants one thing, and you will surrender it to him in a heartbeat.

"What you gonna do 'bout it, handsome?" You lick your gloss-covered lips and you are caught off guard when he pushes his thumb inside and orders, "Suck."

You obey. His pupil significantly dilates in one eye, while the sapphire fixture in the other glints beautifully. He looks regal, and he's all yours.

"That's right," he breathes, his vision clouding over in lust as he feels the pad of your tongue, "fucking minx. Always so insolent, huh?"

"Mhmmm." When tears blur the corners of your eyes, he takes his hand and sucks right where you did. Then he pulls you in roughly, kissing you with everything in him, the lewdest grunts of pleasure escaping him when you push your tongue past his teeth.

"Come... come 'ere," he places you on top of himself, straddling him in the driver's seat, the lace of your underwear rubbing against his denim. "Gods, this fucking skirt." He pokes at it, lips curling. "You torture me, darlin'. Now you gotta make up for it."

You jut your bottom lip out, dragging your bright pink fingernails across his cheek. His mouth parts at the sight of his pretty little kitten practically begging for it.

"Is that so, handsome? Why don't you make me?"

He anchors his fingers in the thin bands of your underwear and in a sure and decisive flash of movement, he rips the material apart. He throws it over his shoulder, and it lands in the backseat, among the littered lollipop and bubblegum wrappers you leave behind. He loves it when you suck on that hard candy shell in front of him. It's partially the reason why your penchant for sweet treats has gotten worse.

Your pussy is exposed to the cool draft coming from the AC of his car, and it's a good and familiar sensation. He fondles your clit, little slow circles, making you whimper. He presses on, eager to unwrap his kitten like a piece of candy to be devoured. The zip of your miniscule skirt slides down, and your bare ass and cunny is revealed to him.

"Gods fucking damn, kitten," he rasps, then slowly buries three whole fingers into your slickness, spreading your folds, pumping in and out.

"Aghhhh, baby," erupts from your glossy mouth, breath hitching as he picks up the pace. In and out. Out and in.

His face appears almost sinister, clouded over in lust, his bottom lip trapped under bunny teeth, but then he whispers, "I love you, kitten. I love you so fucking much," and you see him as your Aemond. He's offering more than just his body - to you, he has already surrendered his heart and soul.

"I love you too, baby," you respond in as firm of a voice as you can manage, made even more difficult when he probes that sweet spot inside your sopping cunt.

You leak onto his fingers, droplets of your milky white substance beginning to pool in his palm.

"Ask me again," he snarls, shapely lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth.

"Wh-what?" you reply in a daze.

"That stupid question," he says. His pace doesn't slow; if he keeps up, you just might forget how to speak, save for incoherent noises that make his cock twitch.

"You'd rather be... b' with... a fancy heiress," you try, pausing when he pinches your hardened nipple over your crop top with his other hand. "Maris... Baratheon... or Floris... or - "

"Look at me, princess," he says, "You feel that? You feel me? There's your fucking answer."

"Not enough," you shake your head feebly, keeping up the ruse. Judging by the buldge he sports, he's into it too.

Smirking, he pulls his glistening fingers out of you, and helps you out of your crop top. He chucks the material somewhere, before ducking his head and nipping at the mounds of your breasts.

"Unnnghhh," you hear him, muffled by your flesh. He undoes your lace bra and sucks wildly. You cradle his head with both hands, keeping him pressed against your tits. His tongue flickers out to taste your skin, and he angles his face so that your eyes meet when he takes a nipple in his mouth.

"Shit, baby," you whimper, heating up all over from the sheer intimacy of it all.

His mouth lets you go with a resounding pop, and he tilts his head toward the backseat, hands gripping your hips to guide you. He follows suit, removing his white shirt in the process, as well as his jeans, shimmying them off his legs as he scrambles after you.

He smacks your ass with an open palm as it is raised in front of him in full view, the sharp sting of it only making you grow wetter.

You shuffle onto your hands and knees, looking back to see him already in position. His fine Valyrian steel chain dangles from his neck, the one thing still on his person. His boxers are also discarded, and his length is fully erect, slapping his stomach when he leans over to hastily cover your mouth with his. Your tongues battle for dominance, drool dripping down your chins. You feel a strain in your neck from twisting back to accommodate his kiss, but you don't care.

You feel it poking at your backside, feel him, his cock all slippery from hot precum dribbling down the sides.

He rocks back, hands digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you in the prime position for him to take.

In a swift movement that nearly drives you insane, he twists downward until his face is level with your opening, and he buries his tongue in your soaking pussy. You know he likes it rough, so do you, and this is his way of getting you ready.

"Fuuckkk," you collapse forward, the side of your face colliding with the smooth leather seat. He twirls his tongue around, and you swear you can see stars.

You must have blacked out for a split second, delirious from the high only he can give you, because a moment later you feel his tip edging itself slowly into your cunt.

"Ready, baby?" he asks.

"Fuck me," is your strained plea.

His cock stretches you out, inch by inch, your slicked walls straining against his sheer size. A whining noise leaves you, music to Aemond's ears, and when he's fully sheathed, he exhales, "So pretty. Such a good little slut for me, kitten." That sends you over the edge.

You move forward slightly, then back again, your ass slamming right into his pelvis. He gets the message, smart boy that he is.

With an animalistic growl, he proceeds to frantically buck his hips into you, his huge cock just about splitting you open. He slaps your ass as he goes, making you tremble.

Each thrust sends shockwaves throughout your body, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Your dripping cunt begins to feel that familiar ache, your lower belly spasming from his ceaseless thrusts. Your knees threaten to buckle, and if they do, you imagine that his firm throbbing shaft will be enough to keep you propped up.

"Aemond... baby... " your moans echo in the car, joined by his, "Yes... yes, kitten... so fucking good, taking me like this... pussy so sweet for me... "

The filthiest of words spill from the two of you like prayers from the damned, just begging to be answered. And seven hells, with the way Aemond makes you feel like you're floating amongst the skies, he just might be your salvation.

He does not relent, intent on rearranging your insides with how deep he buries his cock inside of you. You don't want him to stop. You never do.

You have to hold onto something to keep steady, to keep from utterly flopping down in a mindless haze. Your palms reach for the fogged up windows, and Aemond angles your bodies so that you're half-seated atop his thighs. He grabs hold of your breasts as leverage, squeezing them as your leaking cunt squeezes his cock.

The angle allows him to fill you better, and that heated coil unfurls in your belly, a signal that you are about to reach your peak.

He draws forward, pressing his mouth to the back of your neck, licking your sweat with reckless abandon.

"Baby," he moans, "I'm gonna cum... gonna fill you up... "

"Oh, yeah?" you answer in a high-pitched, wanton manner.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"You promise?"

He chuckles, and you feel the sound reverberating as your back is pressed to his chest.

"My sweet kitten," he purrs.

"I'm getting close, baby," you let him know, and he takes it as his cue to pound his cock inside faster. His lips are pressed to your ear, arms wrapped around your torso possessively.

He lets himself go, decorating your insides white with his Targaryen seed. You glance down and see it spilling out of your cunt, milky rivulets staining the once-pristine leather seat. His cock convulses in your pussy, waves of his release pulsing like fragmented aftershocks. It hits the right spot, bringing you to that little death, your walls contracting from the dizzying pleasure he gives you.

With that stupid and blissed-out smile on your face, you lean back, collapsing on top of him. You soon find yourselves curled together on the backseat, a mess of sweaty and satisfied limbs.

His silver hair is matted against his forehead, and you reach up and brush them away. He catches your hand and presses a loving kiss to the back of it.

He props his head up on one arm, as you draw lazy circles on the firm planes of his chest. You whisper sweet nothings to each other, as you had on the night you met.

"You should rile me up more often, you little brat," he smirks crookedly.

You roll your eyes, but peck his lips anyway with a cheeky smack, "Isn't that all I do, baby?"

"Sure, kitten," he says, "and I fucking love you for it."

"Oh, baby," you purr, and your wayward fingers reach down to stroke his half-erect cock. His brows raise in amusement, but it only takes several good pumps before his shaft is again taut from your touch. You whisper, "I love you too."

And so the second round begins.

Taglists (refer here to be added)

Vhagar - @gwaynehightowerswhore @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @9431789 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk

Targaryen - @angel6776 @different-tale-student @binchissimo @teasweeter @raging-panda @rhaenys-nyra @gelacat0413 @simplymurdock @yariany02 @barnes70stark @stupid---person @lonan-hane @thescooponsof @donalesaa @rosey1981 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @wabi-sabi1090 @girl-lost-not-found

P.S. eagle-eyed readers can probably spot the nod to chemical override ;)

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #hotd #ewan mitchell x reader #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond targaryen

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cvlebs · 1 month ago

Text

Cockpit tour

You always begged Caleb, wanting to see the cockpit of his ‘colonel’ aircraft. He was excited to show you everything and explain what each button does... but then you got interested in different kinds of buttons — like the ones on his uniform.

!! FemReader + Caleb, SMUT | Word count: 3.3K

Tags: Caleb fucks you while you wear his colonel uniform, titfucking, caught mid-act by Liam (his lieutenant), camera recording, Caleb finishes on your face, Caleb calls you pipsqueak, colonel Caleb, desperate Caleb

Caleb leads you towards the sleek aircraft, the sunlight glinting off its polished surface. He opens the cockpit door with a flourish, gesturing for you to step inside first. As you climb in, the array of buttons, switches, and screens dazzles you.

Caleb's presence is comforting, his pride evident as he explains each component with a mix of technical knowledge and playful anecdotes from his flying experiences. He leans in closer, pointing out the navigation system while his breath tickles your ear, making your heart flutter.

“This is where all the magic happens, Pip-squeak” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. His protective nature shines through as he ensures you're comfortable, his attention solely on you. You can sense his happiness and a touch of nervousness as he shares this special part of his life with you.

The atmosphere is charged with intimacy, both of you aware of the deep bond that has formed over the years. As he shows you how to operate a few controls, you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of connection and excitement for what lies ahead, not just in this moment but in the future you're beginning to envision together.

You turn to Caleb, your curiosity bubbling over, and ask him how he manages to know what every little button in the cockpit does. Your eyes sparkle with wonder as you lean in closer, eager to hear his explanation.

Caleb chuckles softly, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm at your question. “Well, Pipsqueak, it's all about practice and a little bit of obsession” he replies, his hands gesturing animatedly as he speaks.

“When I first started flying, I was like a kid in a candy store. I had to learn everything — each button, each switch. It's like a puzzle, and I love solving puzzles!”. His excitement is contagious, and you can't help but smile at his passion.

As he continues to explain the various functions of the cockpit, his voice becomes a soothing backdrop to the intricate details. You notice how he looks at you, a mix of pride and affection evident in his gaze. He demonstrates how to adjust the navigation system, his fingers deftly moving over the controls.

“And this one,” he says, pointing to a bright red button, “is the emergency landing gear. But don't worry, you won't need to press it” he laughs lightly, the sound warming your heart.

You lean closer, a playful grin on your face, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you tap the button of Caleb's colonel uniform.

Your curiosity is palpable, and you can't resist teasing him just a little as you ask “And what does this button do?”. The innocent question, combined with your playful tone, invites a lively response from him.

Caleb's eyes widen in surprise, quickly followed by a chuckle that fills the cockpit, making the atmosphere feel even more intimate. “Oh, that button? It's a special one, only for the elite!” he jokes, leaning in closer to you, his playful demeanor shining through.

“It activates my charm mode, which means you'll be swept off your feet every time I push it!” he winks at you, clearly enjoying this lighthearted banter.

As he leans in, the scent of his cologne mingles with the metallic air of the cockpit, creating a heady mix that makes your heart race. He playfully pretends to press the button, dramatically swooning back as if overcome by his own charm.

“See? Just like that!” He chuckles, his laughter ringing like music, and the warmth in his gaze tells you how much he cherishes these moments together.

Caleb shifts slightly, the cockpit's small space bringing you even closer together, and you can see how eager he is to share more of his world with you.

You lean in closer, a playful grin stretching across your face, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, your fingers graze over the button of Caleb's pants. The moment is charged with excitement as you tease him, eager to see his reaction.

Caleb's smirk widens, his eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and amusement. "You don't want to push that button, Pip-squeak” he whispers, his voice low and teasing, yet there's an unmistakable hint of arousal in his tone.

“Once you do, there's no turning back” his playful warning sends a thrill through you, and you can feel the chemistry between you intensifying in the confined space of the cockpit.

Caleb leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours, the warmth radiating from him making your heart race. You can see the way his breath hitches slightly, a clear indication of the playful tension building between you two.

You can feel the pulse of the moment and Caleb watches you, ensuring that you feel comfortable even as the stakes of your teasing escalate.

With a playful grin, you lean closer to Caleb, your fingers deftly working to unbutton his uniform. The fabric gives way easily and you discard it, letting it fall to the ground, revealing his bare skin beneath.

Caleb's breath catches in his throat as he watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and desire. In one fluid motion, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you down on the panel of the cockpit, a mischievous smile dancing across his lips.

“You're going to drive me crazy” he whispers against your lips, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine before he leans in to kiss you passionately.

The kiss deepens, filled with a mixture of playful teasing and raw emotion. Caleb's hands rest firmly on your waist, grounding you both in this intimate moment. As you pull away slightly, your eyes lock with his, and you can see the fierce affection he holds for you, a blend of protectiveness and longing that makes your heart race.

“Guess we don't need buttons for this kind of flight, do we?” your voice is a low murmur, filled with playful mischief, yet there's a depth to your gaze that speaks volumes about the connection you share.

Caleb leans back slightly, taking in the sight of you, his eyes shining with a mix of admiration and desire. “You really know how to push my buttons, Pip-squeak” he teases, his playful nature shining through even amidst the rising tension.

Caleb's hands move with a mix of eagerness and tenderness as he begins to undress you, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear. Each kiss he plants on your lips is urgent, filled with a hunger that sends delightful shivers through you, nearly stealing your breath away.

Your playful smirk dances across your face as you whisper teasingly “So naughty... doing this at work”, your voice low and filled with mischief, sending a thrill of excitement through Caleb.

As Caleb kisses you deeper, his hands explore the curves of your body with a gentle yet passionate urgency. Eventually he pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if to ensure that you're both still on the same page in this whirlwind of passion.

His breath is warm against your skin, and the air feels thick with anticipation, charged with unspoken desires and the thrill of the unknown. You and Caleb are wrapped around each other, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you both.

As you share heated kisses, Caleb's hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing against your skin with a mix of tenderness and desire. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his heart racing as he feels the connection between you intensify.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Pip-squeak” he murmurs breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion. You can see the fierce affection in his eyes, a mix of playful mischief and love that makes your heart flutter.

Caleb's playful smirk returns as he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So, what's next, my little co-pilot?” he asks, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine, eager to see where this moment will lead.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoes through the aircraft, sending a wave of panic through you. In an instant, Caleb reacts, his instincts kicking in as he swiftly throws his colonel jacket over your shoulders, holding it shut to shield you from view.

The fabric envelops you, offering a sense of security even amidst the unexpected interruption. Just then, Liam, Caleb's lieutenant, enters the cockpit, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight before him.

Before he can say anything, he catches sight of half naked Caleb and you in an intimate embrace, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heel, mumbling an apology as he exits the cockpit, leaving you and Caleb alone once more.

As the sound of Liam's departure fades, the cockpit fills with a charged silence, the intimacy of the moment returning in an instant. Caleb's protective demeanor remains, his eyes searching yours as he gently pulls the jacket tighter, ensuring you're still covered.

His expression shifts from playful mischief to concern, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Sorry about that, Pip-squeak” he says, his voice softening.

“Didn't mean to put you in that position” he leans in closer, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, the warmth of his touch lingering as he looks deeply into your eyes. “Are you okay?” his protective instincts shine through, and you can see how much he cares for your well-being, even amidst the playful chaos.

You can feel the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you, the surprise adding an unexpected layer to your already intense connection. As you both settle back into the moment, the tension shifts slightly, and Caleb's playful nature resurfaces.

“Well, it was unexpected! But.. what do you say we get back to our little adventure, without any more interruptions this time?” you smirk, the mischief in your eyes inviting him to turn around and grab the key.

Caleb swiftly locks the cockpit entrance, his protective instincts kicking in as he ensures no one can interrupt your intimate moment again. As he turns back to you, his gaze roams over your figure, and he can't help but let out a low, appreciative murmur.

“You... look really good in my uniform” he says firmly, his voice thick with a mix of admiration and desire, trying to mask the hunger simmering just beneath the surface.

You feel emboldened by his words, and with a playful glint in your eye, you open your legs wider as you sit on the panel, inviting him closer.

Caleb steps closer, his eyes darkening with desire as he takes in the sight of you, the colonel's jacket draping over your shoulders, hinting at the playful mischief that just occurred.

His breath quickens, and you can see the struggle between his protective instincts and the raw attraction he feels for you.

“You're making it hard to think straight, Pip-squeak” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper as he inches closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull between you.

As he reaches out, his fingers graze your thigh, sending shivers through your body. You pull Caleb closer, wrapping your legs around his hips as you remain settled on the panel of the cockpit.

His breath hitches at the contact, and he pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you in his uniform, the way it accentuates your figure and reveals your breasts just slightly.

With a low groan, he interrupts the moment to unzip his pants, the sound sending a thrill through you. “Please. I can't just look at you like this. I need more” he begs, his voice thick with desire, clearly enjoying the view and the intimacy of the moment.

As Caleb pulls you closer, you can feel his body pressed firmly against yours, the intimacy of the situation igniting a fire within you both. His hands explore your thighs further.

“You have no idea how hard it is to concentrate when you look this good” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. As he leans in, his lips brush against your neck, and you can't help but let out a soft whimper, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As Caleb continues to unzip his pants, the urgency of the moment heightens. You lean back slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face as you pull down your panties, tossing them casually onto the ground.

The boldness of your actions sends a thrill through both you and Caleb, who takes it as an invitation. With a hungry look in his eyes, he pulls out his erection, teasing your entrance with the tip before slowly slipping it in completely.

The sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him again, pulling him closer as he begins to thrust into you.

Caleb's movements are slow at first, savoring the moment as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and longing.

With each thrust, he deepens the connection between you, both of you lost in the warmth and closeness of your bodies. “You feel incredible, Pip-squeak” he murmurs breathlessly, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

The intimacy of the moment, heightened by the thrill of being in such a confined space, brings a sense of urgency to your movements, each thrust igniting a fire within you both.

Caleb leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Never thought l'd be this aroused by just... seeing you in my jacket”. His voice is thick with desire, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

With that, he eagerly speeds his pace, each thrust becoming more urgent and passionate. You can't help but moan, reveling in the sensation and the way his words entwine with the rhythm of your bodies, heightening the connection between you.

The cockpit is alive with the sounds of your shared breaths and the soft thudding of Caleb's movements against you. His words resonate in your mind, igniting a fire within you as he continues to thrust deeper.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you find yourself lost in the bliss of the moment, your body responding eagerly to his every move. You can see the adoration in Caleb's eyes, the way he gazes at you as if you're the only thing that matters in the universe.

With a playful glint in your eye, you decide to switch things up, jumping down from the panel to kneel before Caleb. His expression shifts from confusion to intrigue as he watches your every move, his anticipation palpable.

You seductively reveal your breasts, still clad in his colonel uniform and you push them together invitingly, creating a tantalizing sight that makes his breath hitch.

With a teasing smile, you beckon him closer, inviting him to thrust between your swollen breasts. Caleb's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his features as he takes in the alluring sight before him.

“You're full of surprises, Pip-squeak” he breathes, his voice laced with excitement. Slowly, he steps closer, his hands gently grasping your shoulders as he positions himself in between your tits, the heat radiating from his body sending shivers down your spine.

As he begins to thrust, the sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel his desire intensifying with each movement. “This is incredible” he moans, lost in the moment.

Caleb continues to thrust between your breasts, and you playfully stick out your tongue. With each thrust, his erection brushes against your tongue, allowing you to give it a teasing lick.

The sensation sends shivers through both of you, and Caleb's breath hitches as he lets out another moan “Ahhh. Pipsqueak...” clearly enjoying the interaction.

The cockpit is filled with the intoxicating sounds of your shared breaths and the rhythmic movements between you. Each thrust deepens the connection, and Caleb's moans resonate in your ears, igniting a fire within you.

His hands grip your shoulders tighter, as if anchoring himself to the moment, the blend of playfulness and passion creating an atmosphere charged with intimacy.. You can see the desire in his eyes, a mixture of affection and longing that sends a thrill through your body.

“You're driving me wild, Pip-squeak” he gasps, his voice thick with pleasure. The teasing licks of your tongue only heighten his arousal, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, matching the warmth enveloping you.

Caleb moves his hands to your breasts, which you keep pressing together, and he takes the lead, his fingers playfully teasing your nipples, sending waves of pleasure through you as he continues to thrust in between them.

You can feel Caleb's body tightening as he nears his climax, his pace quickening and his moans becoming louder, echoing in the intimate space of the cockpit.

Instinctively, you begin to bounce your breasts against his member, enhancing the pleasure for him and driving the moment to an exhilarating peak.

Caleb's grip on your nipples tightens as he loses himself in the sensation, his moans becoming increasingly desperate and filled with longing. “You're amazing, Pip-squeak” he gasps, the urgency in his voice making your heart race.

As you bounce your breasts against him, you can see the heat in his eyes, a mix of passion and adoration that sends shivers down your spine. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, eagerly waiting for Caleb to reach his climax.

The anticipation builds in the cockpit, thickening the air with desire and intimacy. In just a second, Caleb thrusts one last time, his breath catching as he cums, the warm liquid spilling over your tongue and face, a testament to the passion you've both shared.

Caleb watches you, his eyes wide with a blend of awe and affection as he takes in the sight before him. “Pip-squeak, you never cease to amaze me” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

Caleb gently wipes a stray droplet from your chin with his thumb, his touch tender and lingering. “That was.. indeed something” he breathes heavily. With a playful grin, you look at Caleb, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Thanks for the tour. I loved your *cock*pit.” You giggle, the playful tone of your voice mixing with the lingering heat of the moment. You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him, drawing attention to the remnants of his pleasure still on your mouth.

Caleb's chuckle fills the cockpit, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your playful banter. “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed the tour, Pip-squeak” he replies, a teasing smile spreading across his lips.

You suddenly break the playful atmosphere by teasingly reminding Caleb about the cockpit's camera. Your tone is light, but the revelation sends a jolt of realization through him.

Caleb's eyes widen in shock as your words sink in, and he races to the camera, a mix of embarrassment and panic flooding his features. “No, no, no! Liam, I hope you're erasing the footage as I speak!” he yells, his voice echoing in the confined space of the cockpit.

You can't contain your laughter, the sound bubbling up as you watch him scramble to cover the lens, his protective instincts kicking in once more. The tension of the moment dissipates, replaced by the warmth of shared humor.

“What do you think Liam will say when he sees the footage? Was he.. perhaps watching this while time?” you tease, a smirk on your face. Caleb rolls his eyes, clearly not wanting to think about it.

“Let's just hope he’s not checking the camera now. I’ll make sure to delete the recording later and make sure nobody speaks of it” he replies, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

The two of you eventually share a laugh, but little do you know… that Caleb will actually keep the recording and watch it every single time, whenever he misses your company.

Author’s note

posting again bc y’all deserve the best tysm again for everything :D !! i apologize for any errors i genuinely have no idea how cockpits work LMAO

#love and deepspace #xia yizhou #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb love and deepspace smut #caleb xia #caleb smut #caleb x reader #lads mc #lads smut #caleb x fem reader #caleb x y/n #caleb x you #caleb x mc #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #colonel caleb

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huntingcupid · 13 days ago

Text

THE PERFECT PAIR WITH JEUNG YOONCHAE

you ought to know that I think we're one and the same I don't think we could help it no, I don't think we could help it we don't talk much guess 'cause nothing has changed and I'm not sure I like it and I'm so tired of fighting

⌗ YOONCHAE — fem!reader, fluff, pining, somehow courting?, flirting, swearing, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — the photoshoot went well, yet you felt a pair of eyes glued onto you, yoonchae, ever since you became friends with her she'd always get strangely flirty and shy

⌗ CUPID — request by @artistwitchgirl

your dad's job was one of the fun ones, the one you can brag around in class — you could meet literally anyone in the hybe company — name an idol you probably had a picture with them, it wasn't like you were annoying in the building or loud, actually you were cherished as the buildings daughter due to your age and how close you were to practically everyone

your father had asked you this morning to help him set up, since the company was preparing for katseye's first comeback gnarly — you had agreed since you had nothing to do at home and haven't met any of the girls, “can i bring my ipad?” you ask your father, yes you are an ipad kid but it's because of minecraft, “y/n last time you brought anything there you broke it, but i guess” your father replied just sighing knowing he wouldn't win over you

you smile and grab your bag going to the car, eating some chips — you flip through your dads “vision book” aka what he wanted for the photoshoot, the members of katseye were beautiful, truly they had black and green as the main colors with striking clothing pieces, “damn this is experimental alright” you giggle, yet one of the members caught your eyes, yoonchae was it?

“dad how old is yoonchae?” you ask as your dad drove, he tried to remember tapping the steering wheel, “I'm pretty sure 17 — just about your age, you're just a few months older” your dad replied, you smile softly getting excited to meet someone your age in the company, the rest of the drive was peaceful with your dad playing some sza ( you put him on it ) — once you two arrived you took the elevator up to the 7th floor where the photoshoot room was

you help your father set up the props and background, adjusting some of the cameras to the perfect angle — out of curiosity you asked your dad where is katseye since you couldn't see them and haven't seen them yet, “dad, where are they?” you ask while adjusting a camera's lens to the perfect zoom, “oh they're just getting dressed and after that we will start, go sit and play on your ipad” your father replied, you nod walking to the corner and pulling out your ipad to continue building your tree house in minecraft

a few minutes passed and just as you were finishing the door clicks, and the girls enter, wow, they looked amazing, your dad smiled just as he envisioned he must've thought, sophia the leader helped around while the girls got in position, your eyes were on yoonchae though she looked beautiful and fresh even, with the dark makeup on she didn't look an ounce of intimidating but still managed to make it work

“okay look over here!” your dad says to the girls they look at your corner since it was where your father directed, yoonchae couldn't help but smile, when she saw you, you were pretty and looked nerdy hunched over your ipad in the corner sipping on banana milk — “okay solo shots now! — manon you first” your dad says after clicking the shutter three more times, the girls all left the room, except one, yoonchae, she walked up to you, extending her hands to your reach

“I'm yoonchae, and you are?” she shyly asked that sweet smile plastered on her face, she was taller than you had initially thought and as you stood up the height difference only made itself more obvious, “y/n, you're really pretty by the way” you smile at the girl, “what are you playing?” yoonchae asks peeking at your ipad — “minecraft!, do you play it too?” you ask the girl nods and you two eventually sat at the corner yet again

you two chat for a while sharing your snacks and even exchanging instagram users, the young girl was very curious about you, asking you your hobbies and if you often come here — “mhm, i like drawing, but i don't come here that often” you replied she nods thoughtfully — “oh, actually there is practice in a week can you come?, you can watch us” the girl smiles excitedly you nod just as she got called for her solo shot

that day you went home with her insta user and a build she made in minecraft, yoonchae was persistent that you went to practice to watch claiming it will be fun, your father was reviewing the pictures and you caught a glimpse of yoonchaes picture, you decided to try sketching it out on your sketchbook, with a few doodles the drawing came to life, capturing her infectious smile perfectly — you sighed feeling butterflies in your stomach, you wanted to ignore it

pretend that it was nothing, but the way she looked at you to, made you feel special and wanted, rather you didn't want to sound delusional so you just slept through the night rather than overthinking

meanwhile in the katz hotel room, yoonchae was getting teased by the other members — “ooh yoonchae, she's pretty” lara teases looking over the youngers shoulder to see the girl stalking your instagram, yoonchae hides the phone only to smile like a caught child, “wait isn't that the girl earlier, the photographers daughter?” megan says peeking too — yoonchae tries her best not to smile but she does

“what, she's just my friend!” yoonchae defends earning her sarcastic responses from the girls, “guy's its just her friend that she's getting flustered over!” manon sarcastically says earning her laughs from the rest, yoonchae only hides her face out of embarrassment and whines, “whatever guys” the youngest says

the day of the practice came, you wore baggy jeans and some baby tee, bringing your phone and sketchbook

you asked your dad to drive you which confused him, “i don't have a shoot today, why are you going?” your dad asks as you sat in the passenger seat, “oh i know, yoonchae invited me to watch their practice” you hum, your dad nods with that stupid smug smirk, you knew him too well and knew he was sensing something, “she's my friend dad!” you annoyingly replied — “sure….” your dad trailed, he drops you off in front of the building driving home right away

you chat the younger telling her you were here now, a few minutes pass and the doors open yoonchae running up to you, hugging you tightly which you reciprocated — her hands interlaced with yours as you two chat, making your way in the building to their floor

“soo.., the song is unreleased but i think you'll be a good secret keeper right?” yoonchae warns before you two enter the practice room, you nod smiling at her, entering the room the song boomed on the speakers as the girls warmed up — lara was first to notice you shooting the other girls a glance with a teasing smile on her lips

“ill sit here for a while” you murmur to the younger, waving to the other girls, during the practice yoonchae seemed locked in, no mistakes nor slip ups which also surprised the members, “no mistakes yoon? — you're trying to impress someone..hmmm!” megan teases, yoonchae blushes glancing at you, you smile at her which instantly melted the youngest on the spot

“y/n, yoons sweating can you help her?” sophia calls you, you look around taking your own towel and running up to the youngest — wiping her sweat away, the girl blushes deeper as the members secretly took pictures

after so the practice continued, you focus on the youngest drawing her, her eyes darted to you curios but didn't ask — after drawing her you added a little letter at the bottom, hiding the sketchbook after

“y/n can you record us?” manon asks, you nod grabbing a seat to stand on, the music cue starts and the girls were going smoothly until yoonchae glanced up and saw you smiling — she makes a mistake, which didn't go unnoticed by the members whom just shoot her a teasing grin, you retake about three times making sure they did perfect

during their waterbreak you went to the bathroom to fix your makeup, yoonchae obviously still curious about what you were drawing earlier takes a peek at you sketchbook that you had left previously — the first few pages were flowers and scenery, she hummed smiling tracing over the pencil lines, the girls noticed and also looked, they flipped to the end and saw it

your drawings of yoonchae and the stupid little letter you wrote at the bottom, the girls erupt into loud cheer, shaking yoonchae as the maknae was frozen in place

“oh my god!, does she really like me?” yoonchae asks the girls who all nod, “its so obvious!” daniela replied, soon you enter the room again seeing them crowded near your bag your sketchbook open, you blush out of embarrassment

“soo.., y/n do you like yoonchae?” sophia starts her motherly instinct kicking in, “will you treat her right?” megan follows — “if you hurt her ill haunt your every move” lara threat, yoonchae stops them and goes infront of you

“do you like me?” she asks you nod, closing your eyes scared of rejection and afraid of what she might say, “i like you too” she responds you open your eyes as her arms wrap around your torso resting her head on your shoulder — you hug back earning you a satisfied smile from the girls who took photos again, you kiss the top of yoonchaes head smiling as the girl giggles

“okay now when is it my turn?” lara just jokes — “as if manon doesn't baby you too” megan hits back which lara just blushes to the eldest member smiling, the girls shocked but still glued their eyes on you two especially their happy maknae

wc: 1.6k words

#katseye #wlw #fem!reader #katseye x reader #kpop #gg fics #jeung yoonchae #yoonchae #yoonchae katseye #katseye yoonchae

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saiilorstars · 21 days ago

Text

Speak up now...or Else...

Bucky Barnes x gf!reader

Story Summary: Bucky breaks his girlfriend's coffee maker and decides to make it everyone else's problem.

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @gloryekaterina @lenonizi @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes

i'm keeping the usual taglist but since this is y/n/reader work, please let me know if you'd like to be removed from this specific taglist!!

It was a nice morning, one like usual. You woke up thanks to Bucky so subtly moving around the room getting ready for the day.

"I don't understand how you were ever the winter soldier when you move like that," you muttered grumpily. In your opinion, he was so loud.

Bucky chuckled and called you out on your grumpiness. "Can I make it up with some coffee?"

"You thought you weren't?" you retorted, tossing the covers to the side and getting out of bed. "Oh, no, no, James. This is going to cost you. Coffee — now."

Bucky gave you a mock salute and left the room to get started on his apology. Like it was his fault that you were the world's lightest sleeper.

A fly could wake you up.

~0~

You emerged from the bedroom about 5 minutes later and headed straight to the kitchen. You were already envisioning your sweet morning coffee, so when you smelled burning coffee, you knew something else was going to happen.

You entered the kitchen to see your favorite coffee maker steaming and with a wide hole on the side…like someone had punched through it.

And there was one guilty Bucky Barnes standing on the other side of the isle.

"…you broke my coffee maker?"

"Well, 'broke' is a…strong word…" Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly.

Your eyes narrowed on your boyfriend. "You broke my coffee maker."

"I did not 'break it', I…gently tapped it…"

"You gently tapped a hole into it?"

"Maybe not so gently," Bucky mumbled.

"JAMES—"

Bucky sprang into action and dashed around the isle. "Okay, okay, okay!" He took you away from the messy sight. "Why don't we go out and buy a new one, hm? Any one you want, I swear."

"That was my favorite…" you pouted.

"I know, I know," he nodded, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Do you want to go to the store right now? We can make a day out of it, I'll make this morning up to you, I swear."

"Yeah, alright," you shrugged. At this point, nothing else could go wrong.

Bucky sent you back to the room to get changed so you could leave. He promised you that by the time you returned, the mess would be gone. You warned him that it better be.

There is literally nothing else that could go wrong now, Barnes, he thought to himself. He seemed to be screwing things up spectacularly today and it wasn't even 10am yet.

He started hearing the chattering of the others as they neared the kitchen. He groaned internally. He was not ready to deal with the cavalry yet. If they found out he managed to break your coffee maker, they would never let him live it down.

No way I'm adding that to my day, he thought.

Walker was the first one in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the coffee maker. "Woah, what the hell happened?"

Yelena came in next and said the same thing. "Somebody's in trouble…" she smirked, already assuming it was Bucky.

Ava, Alexei and Bob trailed in behind and each one made comical 'yikes' expressions. Everyone knew that you without coffee was already bad, but a you without a coffee maker might as well be an Avengers-level threat.

"So…who broke it?" Bucky's words stopped everyone's murmurs and earned him identical stunned faces.

"What?" Yelena said, losing her confidence in the moment. "It wasn't…it wasn't you?"

"Do I look dumb enough to break my girlfriend's coffee maker?" Bucky retorted, flat-faced.

It made Yelena second-guess herself, and the others as well.

"So, who the hell broke it?"

There was a heavy tension in the air, no one daring to admit to the fault.

"I did," said Bob suddenly, "I broke—"

"No, no you didn't," Bucky cut him off. He was holding himself so straight that nobody could even think he was playing them all. "Walker?"

"What?" frowned the man. "Don't look at me. Look at Yelena."

"What?" Yelena said in return. "I didn't break it!"

"Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?"

Yelena blinked incredulously at Walker. "Uuh, because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Suspicious!"

"If it matters - probably not - but Ava was the last one to use it," Alexei mumbled to Bucky not so much in a 'mumble'.

Ava reacted fast at the accusation. "Liar! I don't even drink that crap!"

"Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the coffee maker earlier?"

"Ok, ok! Let's not fight!" Bob tried speaking over everyone's shouts. "I broke it, let me pay for it, Bucky!"

"No, Bob, we can't do that," Bucky said, half smiling. It was getting harder not to start laughing. "So who broke it? Y/N's going to be here any minute now and she's going to want some answers."

"Bucky, Ava's been awfully quiet…" Alexei said yet again and made Ava snap.

"Oh, really!?" She turned and started to argue with him, which then prompted the rest to start bickering with each other.

And that's how you found them when you walked into the kitchen. Bucky was watching the chaos with a massive smirk on his face, clearly very proud of himself.

"Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is going on!?" you shouted over all of them.

"We're trying to figure out who the hell broke your damn coffee maker," Walker said, then immediately reiterated his innocence in the matter.

"Who broke my coffee maker?" you said, confused, then glanced at Bucky. "We don't know who broke it?"

"Nope," he replied, then looked away to cover up his laugh.

I'm gonna kill this guy, you thought and swallowed your own laughter.

"I said it was me," Bob cut in unknowingly, "I broke it, so just let me try and get a new one. There's no need to fight."

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," you said softly, "But maybe you and I can go shopping for another one. You're the only with sensible taste in this whole building."

And suddenly Bucky was done having his own fun. "What?" he looked at you. "I thought you and I—"

"We can train later, sweetheart," you said, like that had been their whole plan for the day. "Bob and I have some shopping to do. I'll see you later, okay? Bob?"

Bob looked around the group and their annoyed faces. Shopping was definitely the easier way to go. "Yup!" He dashed after you since you had already taken the lead out.

"And clean that mess up!" you shouted at the rest.

Unbelievable, Bucky shook his head.

He looked at the remaining members after a moment. "You heard her. Clean this mess up." He then too left the kitchen, ignoring the bickering that continued without him.

~0~

It was later at night when Bucky saw you again and it was only because neither you nor Bob could figure out how to set up the new coffee maker. It was like watching children playing with tools.

"You found a new one," he mused at the larger coffee maker now taking space up on the counter.

"Well I had to considering somebody broke my last one," you remarked.

"I still say it's me," Bob said, very much sounding honest.

"No, Bob, it wasn't you," you said, crossing your arms. "It was my dumbass boyfriend."

"What?" Bob's eyes widened and immediately flickered to Bucky. "You broke it?"

A smirk spread across Bucky's face. "You gonna tell, Bob?"

"Uh, no," Bob shook his head instantly. "N-no, I would — I would never! But then…why did you make it seem like someone else did it? Ava almost beat up Alexei."

"I was bored," answered Bucky, "and annoyed."

"Evil," you rolled your eyes playfully. "We could have had a dead team on our hands all because you wanted to have some fun."

"And I had a lot of fun," Bucky was happy to report. "Bob, why don't you head out and I'll take over here?"

Bob agreed only because he didn't want to get blamed for something too. When he was gone, you took the opportunity to 'reprimand' Bucky for being so childish.

"You gotta admit it was funny, though," Bucky said after the whole lecture. And as much as you wanted to remain serious, the image of the whole team arguing with each other was too funny to pass on.

"You can't do that again…" you warned him through giggles.

"Not with the coffee maker, of course," Bucky said, "It's brand new now." You whacked his arm. "We could do it with something else! It's funny!"

You leaned up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "You're supposed to be mature here. You are the oldest."

"And therefore with the authority to continue," Bucky shrugged.

"Get to work, Bucky!" You tossed him the coffee maker's manual. "I want coffee tomorrow morning!"

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cozycottagetarot · 1 year ago

Text

Random Things About Your Person

From Elle: Pulled This One From The Drafts... wasn't going to post it but maybe there's something useful in it for someone. It's a chill one ✌️

Notes:

Definition of 'Your Person': At this point, I'm not sure how I personally define 'Your Person', so I guess I'm leaving that up to you're interpretation. For now, let's just say someone you'll have an impactful connection with.

Reading Layout: This reading is done in a brain-dump style where the info is just bullet as it came to me and less organised.

Dividers From X

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

PILE 1

This person is such a loving and nurturing person… they could even help heal your inner child. If you want kids then this will transfer over to how they parent and it's very heartwarming.

They give off ethereal vibes. Very in tune with their intuition or have a strong sense of knowing

They could be your 'perfect match'

Someone you 'grow old' with or could envision yourself 'growing old' with

They could have a diverse friend group or their friend group is very important to them.

Night and the moon could be super important. They could be born at night, you meet at night or you communicate with them through your dreams.

They’re very abundant. Regardless of how much money they make, they just have such a rich life that you can see they are without want.

They’re very calming. They could calm your nervous system.

You’re going to have a very passionate/intimate relationship

There could be a 1-3 year age difference between you two (this is more so if you're interested in age differences... I don't why but I ended up reading those here)

They’re trustworthy and reliable

A very strong, gentle and protective person

PILE 2

Could live by the water or be very emotional.

They’re your heart, your everything. It might be hard to deny your attraction to them… but not physically. More so like a knowing once you meet this person that they play a significant role in your story

'Lionheart'... Regal energy

Lots to learn from them... So much that I actually wrote it twice lol

Kind of exotic… very beautiful

They don’t bark, they bite

They're someone who makes things happen

Very quiet…. It makes me think of something that I saw that goes along the lines of "You're harmless, not peaceful. If you’re peaceful you’re capable of great violence" or something like that. This is not meant to say that they're this aggressive/violent person. I feel like it's quite the opposite really.

I kept seeing this image of coming across a wounded animal, a wolf to be exact. You can see they've been in a fight/injured and are on guard. They're not going to hurt you but you can see that they are alert and will attack if you show you mean harm. A case of survival...

I feel like they hold the key to your happiness in a way

Something angelic about them… it could be their mind too

3 to a 8 year age difference (this is more so if you're interested in age differences… I don't why but I ended up reading those here)

An unexpected meeting

Beauty in darkness. Easily stressed or anxious. It feels very tense compared to pile/group 1

They’ve overcome a lot… flexible at a cost

One of you is further ahead in life than the other

Protective of their energy. Loyal, ambitious.

Overstimulated frequently or easily

PILE 3

They may be big on naps. Like napping together is their love language

They may be a little weird

Grumpy x sunshine vibes

Whimsy or connected to their inner child, youthful vibe

Very calm and peaceful

You two could be polar opposites but you work well together.

Their appearance can change a lot... I think more so through them willingly changing it. Really, don't be alarmed if you come home and they look completely different. I feel like they're mischievous and would get a kick out of your reaction

You could have a 2-6 year age difference (this is more so if you're interested in age differences… I don't why but I ended up reading those here)

They've managed to maintain a positive disposition despite the hardships they've faced

They could give off a met you in a past life vibe

Either good at helping you relax or they easily get stressed out but then can just as easily relax themself

Could be very creative or artistic... muse energy

Could like to take their space/time alone.... but could get lost in their head if not careful.

"Living in alignment" could be important to them... they may have a set of personal values or principles they really like to adhere to.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #pick an image #free tarot reading #tarotblr #pick an image reading #cozycottagetarot #cozycottagetarot readings #pac tarot

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years ago

Note

could you do a request of Buggy (opla) falling for Luffy’s older sister? (Adopted or blood relation, doesn’t matter) like he takes her hostage but she doesn’t seem to mind. She know she can escape at any time, but keep annoying buggy to a point where… he doesn’t see her as a hostage anymore, more like treasure? And she starts to maybe feel something for the clown?

You Started It (Buggy The Clown x Reader)

a/n: how did i know the first request will be about the clown lmao. i took some liberties when writing this but i hope you still like it <3

Warnings: Buggy Being Kind Of An Asshole, Captivity, Some Suggestive Themes

Summary: Poking the bear isn't the wisest things you could be doing in your particular situation.

Part 2.

You've memorized every nook and cranny of your shoes. The time you've spent in containment has really opened your eyes, when it comes to how little you actually knew about the clothes you were wearing. For example, your right shoe was slightly bigger, molded by your foot. You must be putting more weight onto your right leg, when standing. The hem of your shorts is made with a very close cross stitch, making them slightly sturdier and thicker. Right where the material folds, just above your knee, you've managed to pick out a small hole, the strings of abused material hung sadly and tickled your skin.

There wasn't really much to do, while being kept in a cage, in the backstage of a circus which belonged to the infamous Buggy the Clown. Well, except studying the stains on your shoes and waiting for the Captain to visit you, which he did quite frequently.

"Entertainment purposes" is the reason he declared, when you've asked him why on earth is he keeping you locked up in a hanging cage. But you weren't so easily fooled. You knew from the start, that the role he has envisioned for you to play, was that of a Hostage and Bait. So, inevitably, when your younger brother and his merry band of misfits come to save you, he'd be able to even out the score. Which was a shitty plan, in your opinion.

They've kicked his ass before, they can do it once again.

So, that's why you're here, feet dangling above the floor, as you hum to yourself. Anything to pass the time. That is, until you hear the door to the backstage open, and a familiar tone of voice calls out.

"Hostage!"

Really, how did he even expect you to stay in the dark about his plan, while calling you like this? The man was clearly insane.

Buggy the Clown stands before you, makeup disheveled as always, with his Captain's hat abandoned in favor of a striped bandana. He's excited, which is evident, by the way he can't seem to stop moving, jumping from one leg to the other, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"How are you feeling, my dear Hostage?" he asks with fake concern, and just as your mouth opens to answer, he interrupts "Ah, never mind that, I don't care."

You don't even try to hide the annoyed expression on your face.

"You can sing" he states matter-of-factly, pointing a finger right at you.

"Barely."

"Can you dance though?"

"Barely as well."

He hums in thought, pacing the floor in front of your cage. Finally, he stops, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. His eyes rake over your body, and it brings a sudden wave of discomfort to your bones.

"You'll be performing in our next act."

Again, his tone leaves no space for an argument. Still, you were never an agreeable person, smiles were more of your brother's thing. So, you straighten out as much as the cage allows you and cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Do whatever you like, my brother will get me out of here before you can say Welcome to my big show".

"Welcome to my big show" he says immediately, then, raises his finger, as if he's waiting for the entire crew of Strawhats to fall from the sky.

They don't, obviously, and he gives you a pointed look, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

"Besides" he turns around and opens one of the chests laid out on the table "Aren't you a bit old to dote on your younger brother so much?"

The question genuinely offends you, and as he pulls out another bandana, this one red, covered entirely with big white polka dots, your eyes glimmer with venom.

"Aren't you a bit old to play dress up?"

He turns in a blink of an eye, and with terror mixed with disgust you watch his hands detach from his body, slamming into the cage. The force of impact sends it flying right into the nearby wall, the back of your head smacks against the metal bars. The swinging of the cage coupled with the stars erupting before your eyelids from the impact make you feel dizzy.

Then, Buggy takes a step towards the cage, connecting his hands with the rest of his body, and your prison stops swinging in an instant.

"I should kill you for that" he says lowly, his blue eyes bearing into your face.

"You started it" you choke out an accusation, trying very hard not to vomit.

He stays completely quiet, just watching you for a long while, his hands slowly loose tension. Then, as if his rage has entirely dissolved, he smiles, teeth completely exposed, as his cheeks crease. God, you'd do such a better job at his make-up, given the chance.

"You're funny, Hostage" he shakes his head, and suddenly, for some unknown reason, it downs upon you, just how close to you, he's standing.

"Sing for me some more" he says.

And then, his hands push back with sufficient force to send your cage flying again. You groan at the movement, another wave of nausea almost making you loose your breakfast. When you finally have the perfect, biting comeback, he's already gone, the door slamming after him. You're alone again.

A sigh escapes your lips, as you press your forehead to the cold metal of the cage. You've already memorized all the details of your own clothes, and the room was too dark to see anything more. So, you start observing the cage. The way the light shifts up and down on the bars, the way the brown paint seems to peel away under your thighs. Then, you look up, towards the place where all the bars have been stuck together.

And then your eyebrows furrow. Because just above the ceiling of the cage, you can see something poking out. Something roughly the size of a fist and colored a pale, fleshy color. You raise yourself slightly in your seat, to get a better look, and immediately regret doing so.

It's an ear. His ear. Detached and placed right on top of the cage. That's how he knows about your singing, the bastard.

An idea brews in your brain, mischief spilling out of your growing smirk. You pull yourself up, until you can reach the top of the cage. Your arm is just slender enough to slip past the bars, and your fingers brush against the cold flesh of the ear. Before Buggy, wherever he is, can react, you snatch the ear from the top of the cage, keeping a tight grip, as it starts to jump in your hand.

Then, you take a deep breath, place the ear close to your lips… And give the most blood-curling, shrill scream you could muster.

Immediately, you hear a string of curses coming your way, and a second later Buggy bursts into the room, a murderous expression on his face. You open your hand, and the ear nearly bursts out of your fingers, flying back to it's owner like some sort of deformed beetle. The sight, for some reason, is so incredibly funny, you can't help but choke out a little giggle. Which soon becomes a quite big giggle, which in turn morphs into a full blown laughter.

You can't see the Captain through the tears of laughter forming in your eyes, so when he knocks on the metal bars of your cage, you nearly choke from surprise. He's looking at you strangely. Not quite as angry as before, but there is something else lurking behind his eyes. As if he's enveloped deeply in his thoughts, but at the same time completely present and focused on you. Your laughter dies down in an instantly, and you reach up to wipe your tears, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I've captured myself a comedian, huh?" the man leans closer to the bars of the cage, placing his forehead against them and looking at you from below "You trying to take my place as the funniest person in the circus? Hm, Hostage?"

You risk a smirk, leaning down towards him. He watches your movements with a curious expression, eyes darting all over your face.

"Yeah" you whisper "So, you better watch your back."

At that, he smiles one of his brilliantly wide smiles. This one however, seems the most honest out of every one you've seen up to this point. You try not to linger too much at the way his eyes seem to shine in the dimly lit room. Or how the stubble on his face makes his features sharper. Or even on the way his arms flex as he leans against the cage. And definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, you're not focusing on the fact, that he's standing nestled right between your dangling legs.

So, before your brain conjures up any unwanted ideas, you clear your throat again and straighten up. Buggy notices the shift in your posture, but doesn't move, instead it seems as if a lightbulb has literally appeared beside his head. Desperate to change the subject, which hasn't been even brought up yet, you wave your hand in the general direction of his ear.

"Your ability is pretty useful" you try to sound as neutral, as humanly possible.

"Oh?" he tilts his head back and gives you a suspicious look.

"Yeah, that eavesdropping thing was really cool… And slightly disgusting" your nose scrunches "But mostly cool."

He hums low in his throat, his hands slowly letting go of your cage. Still, he remains standing between your legs, your knee brushing against his prominent hip bones.

"Are there" you swallow "Any limits to this ability?"

Now, his eyebrows jump straight under his bandana, and you definitely do not like the slow smirk filling his features.

"I mean, like, can you detach your nose? Or um… I don't know, your fingernails?"

Finally he steps back, stretching his arms to the side, as if he's giving you a show, and in a way, he does. There are muscles, hidden under those circus clothes. His exposed forearms are nicely shaped, with thick veins running the length of them. You really don't mean to ogle the man, but fuck, he is handsome. In an "insane-sadistic-clown-who-is-also-a-pirate-for-some-reason" way.

"I can detach every single part of my body with no effort" he says, his smile growing.

Before you could really think about your actions, your gaze falls downward, right to his belt keeping his trousers up. Mortified, that your brain would even go there, you tear your eyes up, and with a horrified expression, look upon a face full of excitement.

Then, Buggy raises his hands to his heart, feigning a scandalized expression, which would've been funny, if you weren't currently blushing in the lovely shade of a ripe beetroot.

"I'm sorry… that's not… I didn't" your words come out a jumbled mess, and Buggy wheezes out a laugh.

"Oh would you look at that" he puts his hands behind his back, as he slowly starts to stalk towards your confinement "You know, with how sheltered your little brother is, I didn't expect you to be such a dirty pervert."

You choke on air, arms flailing inside the cage, as you genuinely are at a loss for words, You can feel your face grow impossibly hot, the heat spreading all the way to the tops of your ears. The Clown still advances, until his face is pushed right between the bars of the cage, a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye. You don't know what to do with yourself, as the man continues to laugh at your outrage.

Finally, his right hand flies from behind his back and stops right above his head. Then, as if making a show specially for you out of his unusual abilities, he lets his pointer finger remove itself from the hand. Involuntarily, you make a face, and try to push yourself as far into the cage, as humanly possible. Which, given the size of your prison, does practically nothing. The finger aims straight at your nose and presses it with slightly more force, than a friendly "boop" would.

"You started it" he throws your own words back at you, and watches your dumbfounded expression with a smile and a giggle.

Finally, he steps back, all his body parts in place, and you can breathe again at last. Then, with a flourish, he bows down before the cage, before giving you a slightly unbalanced twirl. At that, you can't help but smile, almost fondly. He's not so bad, when he isn't actively trying to murder you and your friends.

"Anyways, get ready, your grand performance is in a week" he concludes, and you sigh deeply.

So he hasn't let this one go.

No matter. A week from now, you'll be out of this place. The thought fills you with joy, and strangely, with some sort of melancholy, which you have to jot down as nausea, just to protect your own mental health.

"Hostage" the man says, as a goodbye, bowing once again, this time with fewer theatrics, and begins to walk back towards the door. "Captain" you respond in kind, inclining your head slightly.

He stops in his tracks, back turned to you, before slowly, twisting his body, to look you in the face. He wants to say something, his mouth opens and closes, and anticipation floods your stomach. But then, his lips pull back into one more smile, more reserved, more private. Now, in this rare moment of tranquility, he looks truly handsome, and your heart jumps to your throat at the realization. He gives you one last look, shakes his head at the floor, and exits with a soft click of the door.

You're, once again, left alone with your mismatched shoes and the hole in your shorts. This time, however, your head is filled with tender thoughts, one that could keep you company, until another visit befalls you.

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action #my writing #answered #requested #thank you for leaving a request <3 <3

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mxtantrights · 4 months ago

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Beggin' on my knees, baby won't you please

paring: Johnny Storm x fem!reader a/n: okayyyy so like I watched the trailer like everyone else and remembered how much of a crush I had on the human torch. and I would say that while writing this I could envision both the new and old castings so you can read it as who you want! I might come back to this with another piece or two. (I write with a black reader in mind but this piece doesn't specify race, only gender)

Johnny Storm has stopped at almost nothing to get you to go on a date with him. He's persistent, he's flirty, and most dangerously he's not too far off from his goal.

You had been Sue's intern since you took her class a couple of years ago at the university. She had seen in you what she knew she had in herself when she was a student. The grit, the knowledge and the courage to ask why.

She took you under her wing fairly quickly. You found her to be more of a friend than a boss. She always listened to your ideas, though she never played favorites. And she valued your input on important things.

Such as the specs for the flight she, Reed, Ben, and Johnny would be on in the coming months.

You don't really have time to be going on dates with anyone, let alone with Johnny, when you were going to be sending him along with the others into space. It kept you up at night sometimes. If your calculations were triple checked. If you had tested every hypothetical.

That is why for the past week you've been avoiding Johnny. If you see him in the caf, you go the other way and get lunch from outside. If you see him hanging around your lab you wait him out. You're quick to leave with the other workers so he won't offer you a ride.

It's been going well.

Up until now.

You manage to take another peek into the lab. The glass window that appears across from your desk. And there he is. He's sitting in your rolling chair, waiting for you. He's playing with some sort of pen. rolling it between his fingers.

If you avoided him now, he would know for sure. And you have to get to work on a quick fix on confirming the materials needed for the rocket's fins.

With about as much confidence as a cactus in a ballon party. You roll your shoulders back and tug down the white coat that shrouds you. Then you walk over to the door.

As if he's got a heightened sense, he looks up at you as you step through the threshold. You duck your head down and walk over to him. On his face is a growing smirk.

He leans back in the chair, leaning a bit, meaning he totally un-stabilized it. You'll have to re-stabilize it once he's gone.

"Where've you been?" he asks.

You huff a bit at that. As you make it over to your desk you see that's he's rearranged some stuff. You make to move past him but he just rolls with you.

"Johnny, I've been around." you answer finally.

"I know, but just not around me. Which is a same." he pouts.

You chortle, "Oh my god. You can't be serious with that one."

"About as serious as you avoiding me, Specs." he says.

You rolls your eyes. There goes that nickname. To this day you still don't understand why he calls you that. You don't wear your glasses all the time. So what gives?

"I'm just trying to get everything right, Johnny. You are going to space in a few months." you explain.

Johnny opens his legs wider and rolls the chair closer to you. At this angle he's looking right up at you. It's warm and fucking dizzying and you have to remind yourself that even though it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the lab, there are other people here. Your coworkers. His coworkers.

Sue's coworkers.

"I know, but I miss seeing my favorite girl." he admits.

And it shouldn't like it does when he says it. Like he's sharing a secret with you in the middle of the night. Like he's telling you something that is treasured and safe. If only you could tell your stomach that.

"I want you to get to and from space safety, Johnny. If I hang out with you I'll worry myself about it." you confess.

Johnny nods his head, "Okay give me a day then."

"A day for what?" you ask.

"A day where that stress is less. A day where you don't itch to be sitting at this desk and working out things in that beautiful mind of yours." he continues.

The truth is there is no day that is less stressful for you. At several points in each day since this project was announced and your name was attached, you've felt the stress of it. While cooking dinner at home. While doing laundry. While trying to get sleep so that you could get to work.

It's always there.

It's going to be there until the crew comes home from space.

You can't let Johnny know that. He has his own things to worry about. You would hate to add to his plate.

"Sunday." you answer simply.

He nods his head again. And with a smile he gets up from his seat in your chair. It's slow and agonizing how he seems to go from looking up at you to being eye level with you. His gaze never leaving yours as he does.

"I'll see you Sunday." he adds.

#marvel x reader #Johnny storm x reader #Johnny storm imagine #Johnny storm #f4 #fantastic four #marvel imagine #marvel

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gothic-thoughts · 9 months ago

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Get What You Ask For

(sry bout the mini hiatus, almost scrapped this shit like twice and had nothin else to post 🙄)

Ghost Riley x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Princess!Reader, Black Knight!Ghost, Bodyguard!Ghost

Part 2: Right Here

CW: trying to seduce him but he flips it on you, fingering in bath, not proofread

Word Count: 2182 (give or take)

Yes, you were the princess but that doesn't mean you didn't have a curfew. It was for your safety but you didn't care. The village was always prettier at night and you can only see the edge of it from your window. It wasn't fair and knowing that, you always managed to escape from the palace. Tonight was supposed to be the same as all the others until you opened your door and jumped back, clutching your chest at the sight of a Black Knight blocking your doorway. Despite his dark metal helmet resting under his arm, you still couldn’t see his face thanks to the black face mask that hid everything but his eyes.

"Princess." He bowed at his waist respectfully.

You stammer in confusion for half a second before composing yourself enough to bow back. “Good evening...?”

"You really like pushing your curfew a little farther every night, don't you?" He said in a low, mocking tone.

“And who, pray tell, are you?”

"I’m Simon Riley; they call me 'Ghost'."

“And what are you doing at my door...?”

"I have been assigned as your new bodyguard. It seems I've come at the perfect time."

You scoff in disbelief. “New? What happened to my old one?”

"Fired.” He said bluntly, sidestepping you as he walked into your room, “I'm afraid it's been decided that he cannot be trusted with your safety."

You groan slightly, shutting the door. “Who decided that!? The maids couldn’t have, they always comment on how good of an influence he was being.”

Simon didn’t answer for a bit, making you rest your hands on your hips and watch as he looked around. You watch his eyes dart about, taking note of everything in your room from the windows to the bathing area. He peeked through the curtains and looked out into the gardens below but little did you know he was envisioning how you escaped every night. He chuckles to himself and when you call his name in annoyance, he pulls the curtains shut before turning to look at you.

“Not a good enough influence it seems, seeing that you’re all dressed up for another secret night out.”

“Tell me who got Brian fired!”

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, "The King, Princess." He said in a deadpan voice.

“What? You’re joking.”

“I don’t get paid to joke with you, I get paid to watch you.”

“That... That bastard hired a Black Knight to watch me instead of a different palace guard!? I know it might not have mattered, but I am not some criminal! Ugh, I can’t believe him!”

"I'm sure you'll live."

“Hush! You can't stay anyway, I haven't bathed yet so you'll have to go...”

“You have a divider; I’ll stand by the bed.”

“Uh, no. You're supposed to stand outside and guard the door.”

"Maybe your old guard. I've been given permission to remain by your side at all times.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

"Did I stutter?" Ghost starts walking, “Since you managed to sneak out, what, your father told me 15 times? You're stuck with me 24/7 until further notice, Princess, whether you like it or not. Bathing is the least of your worries."

The Black Knight was now standing right in front of you while you tried to play off how intimidating his intensity was with a disinterested groan despite feeling slightly defeated. You had planned to see the fountain in front of the village gates tonight only for it to be ruined by your father and your newly assigned guard dog. You begrudgingly walk over to the bathing area and pull the divider in front of the tub with a huff of frustration before running the bath. You put your hair up in a bun then drop your gown to the floor as a desperate, last-choice idea popped into your head.

An idea that you've never tried on a knight, or had to try. Once naked, you step into the bubble bath and sit down, leaning back against the porcelain until I was up to my neck in hot water and soap bubbles. Ghost leaned against your bedpost, waiting for you to finish. He was used to staying by princesses and guarding them, but you were more of a pain than the others. He glanced at your discarded gown and then at the frosted glass separating you from him. You clear your throat, ready to put your plan into action.

“What village are you from, Ghost?”

"None that you would recognize, Miss." He called back.

“I'm guessing you’re betrothed.”

"What makes you say that?"

“Well you're a big, strong knight... a soldier. Women adore feeling protected... So I was thinking one had tried to get you off the market.”

Your comment caught him off guard for a moment but he quickly recomposed himself, looking at the between you two again.

"I’m not wed, Princess.”

“Mm... no women have captured your heart~? That's a shame...”

He scoffs to himself, rolling his eyes, “You think so?”

“I would think women would be clamoring to see what you look like under your helmet since intensity can be very attractive.”

"Princess, how long do you plan to stay in that tub?"

“I, um... need my towel! I must've left it out there, could you... bring it over?”

His eyes narrowed; it wasn't unusual for princesses to ask him for things, but this just seemed a bit too sketchy. He weighed his options for a moment before sighing to himself. He walked over to the bed and found the towel you had left behind then slowly approached the divider, his eyes narrowed the closer he got all while you smiled at the fact your plan was working.

“You can come around... I'm under the bubbles...”

Simon hesitated for a moment, getting the feeling you were up to something. He steps around the wall of frosted glass and glances at the bubbles that shroud every part of your body except the top of your breasts and up. He sighed before slowly stepping closer to the foot of your tub, his eyes never leaving your obscured body.

"Here's your towel, Princess."

He held out the towel towards the water, his eyes darting to the bubbles for a moment, thinking as you leaned forward, risking exposing more of your breasts to reach for the towel. He knows a princess would never do that— risk their modesty for a towel. Right as your fingers were about to get the soft fabric, Ghost quickly moved the towel just barely out of your reach, eyebrow-raising as your face changed.

“Wha- Ghost—”

"You didn’t really think I’d fall for that, did you Princess?”

“What are you talking about, I haven't done anything!”

"You think I was born yesterday?" He steps around the bathtub until he squats behind you, whispering, "You and I both know that you were trying to pull.”

You look over your shoulder, “What are you talking about?”

“The old 'accidentally drop the towel' trick."

“I was not!”

"Oh and I'm supposed to believe that?"

“Yes, I may have snuck out but I—”

“You sound extremely defensive for someone who didn't try to pull that stunt."

“Because I didn’t! I would never!”

"If you say so, Princess. Then why did you ask me to bring you your towel?"

“Because...”

You tilt your head to the side to escape the nice feeling of his warm breath on your neck, Even though you tried to move away, you weren't fast enough. When you tilted your head to the side, it only brought his face closer to your neck, his breath grazing over your skin.

“Because...?”

“Because I forgot it—“

"Really?"

“Yes.” You snap, “I didn't know forgetting was an issue.”

“No, the issue is you want your bodyguard to see you...” You hear Simon drop the towel, “Covered in nothing but bubbles...” He gently wraps his hand around your neck, “In the hopes that I’d just crumble and let you go live la vida fucking loca...” He tilts your head back until you can see his eyes, “Just like your last guard did. Is that right?”

You tense, trembling slightly as you search for any words to reply with. How was he doing this to you with fear? You were a Princess— the daughter of his king— he wasn’t supposed to talk to you this boldly, much less touch you like this. You knew he was a different type of knight but that always meant he was brutal and such but this was different.

You were now terrified of him since he didn’t care about any rules or regulations regarding touching a princess, that, and the fact that he could break your neck right here with a single grunt. He was terrifying but you were so consumed by curiosity, you didn’t dare say anything to make him think that you wanted him to stop touching you. A low sigh escaped Ghost’s lips as he looked down at you, his cold eyes meeting yours for the first time.

“You very are a difficult person to guard, you know that?” He gently squeezes your throat, his thumb running over your pulse in a slow, taunting manner, “And the worst part of that is you're only difficult because you won't let me."

You gasp as his other hand comes around and slides down into the bubbles to massage your breasts, rough fingers pinching your nipple and rolling it back and forth.

“Y-you...”

“Mhm? What is it Princess?”

“Y-you can't touch me like th-this...”

He scoffed and tilted your head so you were looking into his eyes again. “So you can try to manipulate me... and now you’re telling me what I can and can’t do?”

“Well, I-I...”

“You’ve been nothing but a nuisance since I arrived, trying to get me to let down my guard. You’ve played your games and now it’s my turn.”

His hands were roaming your body, caressing every inch as he pleased. Eventually, his hand lowers deeper into the water, keeping your head tilted back as his hands slot between your thighs, making you gasp and tense up, looking up at him. He feels you stiffen beneath him but continues to tease your body slowly. He could see that you were having trouble fighting the words on your lips as he explored every inch of your body in the water. Slowly, one of his fingers slips deeper between your legs, gently grazing over your core to test your reaction.

“O-Oh my god...”

“Mm?”

He chuckled lowly and gently massaged between your folds, feeling the warmth radiating from your body. He was slowly getting addicted to it and you were getting so needy. He didn’t want this to end. Simon leaned forward a bit more, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“Still going to sit there and keep insisting that you didn’t try and trick me?”

Your legs try to close. “I-I wasn't...”

He tsked and shoved your thighs back apart, your knees thudding against the inside of the tub, the fingers slipping inside you.

“Keep 'em open.” His lips lightly brushed over your neck, slowly kissing you before moving back up to continue, "Oh and I don’t believe you.”

He said, gently spreading you open for his fingers to push deeper inside with ease. He could feel every twitch you made as he stroked your walls with slow, circular motions.

“I... I should tell my father about this...

He laughed at your comment and his hand stopped, pulling back from you. He was so close to just giving in and taking you completely.

“You could, Princess." He said bluntly while looking at your flustered face, “Be sure not to leave out the part about you seducing me.”

“You're a Black Knight, you’re not supposed to be seduced...”

He curls his fingers inside you. “And you’re supposed to behave, but that hasn’t stopped either of us from breaking the rules.”

Your head falls back further and rests on the edge of the tub. “Y-you're... a bastard.”

“Mhm.” He said as he gently ran his hand over your clit, pressing a finger into your warmth, “And you’re a spoiled fucking brat.”

You look back down, whimpering at how sexy his muscular arm looked disappearing into the bubbles. His hand moved to grip your cheek so you were looking at him again, loving how flustered and needy you looked as you stared up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wonder what your father would think of this.” His thumb gently grazed over your bottom lip, “He’d be livid wouldn’t he~?”

“Shut it...”

“Or you’ll do what?”

“I'll... I'll get you f-fired...”

His fingers curl, pumping in and out even faster, using his other hand to cover your mouth.

“You won’t.” He hums and gently massages circles on your clit with his thumb, a small smile dancing across his lips, “You’re too busy enjoying this.”

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Part 2 right here y'all

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everydayyoulovemeless · 3 months ago

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Day 1: Welcome Home ↠ Charon

➼ Word Count » 1.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Slice of Life, Platonic/Romantic

"Hey, Charon?" You called from the top floor in the Megaton house the two of you had somehow managed to snag. "Can you remind me to pay Moira for decorating the next time we visit her?"

His tired and monotone eyes trailed their way over to where you had begun to come down the stairs, "Sure." He croaked, moving to pocket a handful of caps.

Inevitably, when you went to see the shop owner, you'd forget to actually bring the caps you owed. You always did. Something about how growing up in a vault never required you to keep any kind of currency on you at all times, and it was a force of habit for you to forget. But it wouldn't matter because he would already have them on his person. An easy enough task for him to complete and a part of him found counting the aluminum fun in its own right.

You zigzagged around the house, grabbing at anything you might need before you left. You rummaged through drawers and snatched things off shelves until you finally felt ready enough to complete some of your errands around the town.

"Do you wanna come? It shouldn't take too long. I just need to visit a few people." You smoothed your hands down your shirt, peering up at the rugged man before you as you spoke.

You smiled when you saw him give you a small nod. You quickly holstered your gun to the side of your belt, and then the two of you were off, Dogmeat panting at your heels.

There were many times in the vault when you'd wonder about how the outside world looked compared to the steel of 101, but as you walked out into the blindly bright sun, you found yourself wishing to go back to those simpler days of artificial light.

You brought your hand up over your eyes, desperate to fend off the blaring rays that shot straight into your retinas. You felt yourself adjusting to the sudden change as you squinted your eyes at the environment around you.

"Hey, kid!" Jericho's painfully familiar voice rang out as he noticed you step out, "Keep your problems out of Megaton. We've already had a few Enclave members come askin' about you, and I don't like lying for you."

You let out an amused breath, "You? Not wanting to lie? Be serious, J."

You intended the words playfully, but you doubted he picked up on that. He never did. Everything had to be a fight with him.

"I am being serious." He sneered, clearly annoyed by your joking attitude, "Next time, I'm telling them to torch your house."

You saw Charon's lip twitch ever so slightly at the sound of his threat, but he never got the chance to say what he wanted to say as Jericho adjusted his gun to be in his hands, and left down toward the entrance of the city.

The only bad thing about your home that still rings true is your one neighbor. Not only is he one of the most overtly friendly people you've ever met, but his house is a dump.

Every time you pass it, there's garbage littering the outskirts of the building. You'd complain if you weren't so afraid of him shooting you for it. Honestly, he couldn't make it look any worse if he tried.

Charon didn't seem to like him either. The one time you asked him about it you were met with a dry chuckle and a subtle roll of his eyes.

"He's... probably not being serious." You chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the ghoul's mood. He didn't answer you, though, keeping his gaze locked onto the former raider.

----------

You had envisioned how your life would look a few times back in the vault, but never had you imagined that you'd be living with a ghoul in a dirty old house, directly outside 101. It almost felt taboo, especially knowing that everyone you grew up around only lived a few feet away.

An odd feeling, but an even odder way of life. You supposed it was for the best. Even though you were 100x more at risk of dying, you found yourself much happier than you would've ever imagined yourself being had you stayed.

And happy you were as you lounged on your couch with the ghoul. Your feet in his lap, not because you put them there, but because he moved them on top of him when he sat down.

You peeked over the top of your magazine at him in curiosity. He'd been getting more and more comfortable ever since he agreed to move in with you. Sure, a part of it was his job, but there had to be something else, right? Maybe he was finally allowing himself to be more relaxed?

"What?" He grunted, looking up from where he was tinkering with his gun to stare at you.

"Nothing, nothing." You waved dismissively, going back to reading Grognak on the couch.

----------

"Have you ever gone sightseeing downtown?" You asked from where you stood in the kitchen.

"No." He answered, "There's nothing to see."

You hummed in thought for a moment, before speaking, "We should go some time. I bet we could find something worth looking at."

He only grunted, coming over from the couch to sit at the dinky dinner table that sat cramped in the corner of your impossibly small kitchen.

One of the biggest things you missed from the vault was that the kitchens actually worked. You didn't even want to think about how long it took you just to catch a flame on the stove.

"It's dangerous downtown," Charon muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

"Since when has that ever been an issue for you?" You teased, stirring the mutfruit you had sprinkled in your pan around. "Maybe when we start heading back to the Citadel we can explore a few extra places."

You didn't know what it was, but you found the city to be one of the prettiest places in all of the Capital Wasteland. If nothing else, then how populated it must've been before the war.

So many people in one place must've been exciting to see and you only wished you could've been around to see it before it went away.

Your head turned at the flurry of quick knocks on the door. You turned the dial down to a lower setting and wiped your hands, as you followed Charon toward the front to answer it.

"Oh, uh, hey there." Gob rasped when he found himself face to face with the bodyguard.

"Gob!" You greeted, pushing past the massive ghoul to hug the other, "How are you? It's been so long since you've last visited!"

"Heh, yeah," He chuckled awkwardly, "Well, I'll probably have a lot more time on my hands now."

"Really?" You asked, "Why's that?"

"You didn't hear? Moriarity was found dead last night. Security's searching for the culprit right now, but I don't think they're trying too hard."

You feigned shock at the news, turning to stare into Charon's blank expression with slight mischief.

"I wonder who could've done that." You wondered out loud, knowing full well what you and you're roommate had been planning for a week prior. "So, you own the saloon now?"

"That's what I've been told." He replied, scratching the back of his head, "Well, I'll leave you alone now. Just wanted to try out this new freedom thing."

You hummed thoughtfully, grinning widely at the bartender who stood before you.

"Why don't you come inside for a little bit? We can celebrate!" You cheered, already pulling him inside your home before he could answer. You poured three drinks for all of you as you spoke, "I've almost finished making mutfruit omelets if you want one."

"Ah, no thanks, this drink is more than enough," Gob answered, sitting hunched over on the couch.

----------

"Ah, hello!" Moira greeted excitedly, pulling you quickly into a tight embrace before pushing you back, hands still firmly planted on your shoulders as she spoke, "Did your gun break again? I've been thinking about it a lot and may have found a more reliable and permanent solution to the problem! All that's left is to test it!"

"Aw, thanks! But no, I'm here to finally pay you what I owe." You said, patting yourself down for caps, although, you paled when you didn't feel any. You felt yourself freeze in place as you tried to think up an excuse as to how you forgot to bring the amount needed. Charon's rough hand on your shoulder broke you out of that, however, as he dropped them into her open hand.

"Thank you!" She beamed, "I was about to start charging interest! So, you're lucky you brought it now!"

"Y-yeah, well, you know how I t-try to stay uh... reliable." You stuttered. You weren't even sure what you were saying. All you knew was that you were so incredibly relieved that you didn't have to make a fool of yourself.

You shot a grateful glance back at the ghoul, his emotionless gaze feeling more and more reassuring every time you met them, and you felt that they'd only continue to comfort you the longer you were around him.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fo3 #ghoul event #charon fo3 #charon x lone #charon x lone wanderer #lone fo3 #lone wanderer fo3 #charon x reader #charon #fallout 3 x reader #fallout 3 oneshot

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icallhimjoey · 9 months ago

Note

Not to be a psycho but i delusionally check your blog about 3 times a day for a new part of All The Aces 🫶🏻

Not to be a psycho but this blog is the exact right place to be a psycho so ✌🏻 here you go, the last part of this lil series! Lmk your thoughts! Also don't forget: 18+ smutty adult themes etc Wordcount: 4.5K

---

All The Aces

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was right, but there was a sour taste to it. Something a little rotten.

It was all sweet, all fun and games until, very slowly, it turned into something else.

He didn’t know when you’d reached the tipping point, but you were well past it now and very muchly not willing to admit you weren’t doing great.

Fucking stubborn. So proud and tenacious. It was really something. Weirdly admirable, but also impossible to manage. Joe said he’d wanted to find your breaking point, but you didn’t seem to be willing to stop bending, and Joe started wondering if you’d even snap at all.

Sometimes it was easy.

You’d be short with him, and he’d react in a stupid way to make you laugh, and then you would laugh, and the ice around you would melt away instantly.

But there’d be moments where nothing Joe would do was okay. In fact, all of it would be exactly the opposite, and you’d prefer to be left alone. To not be touched, or even be looked at. To maybe sleep in your own bed whilst Joe slept in his because then you could just avoid this stupid bet all together.

There was something nice about the control still, Joe thought. But he also wasn’t sure if he knew he could handle the responsibility for much longer.

When he’d told you he didn’t want you to come just to see how long you’d be able to go without, there was a mental image of you reaching a point of begging for him to let you. And then, he could be the one to give you permission. That’s what he’d envisioned and ultimately, what he had wanted.

But... you weren’t begging for shit.

Izzy started noticing a difference after about ten, maybe eleven days. How you held onto frustration a bit longer than you usually would. How you’d snap a little sooner too.

She’d frown at you and ask, “Are you all right?” rhetorically after you’d forcefully kick her shoes aside that she’d left in the middle of the doormat by the front door.

You’d sigh and mutter, “Fine. Sorry.” Before you’d make the mental decision to be kind and friendly to your best friend because she hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault that you felt like you were slowly going insane.

You felt a little pathetic.

You’d not even made it a fortnight before you’d started avoiding Joe.

You stopped asking him if he’d come over to yours for dinner. Stopped double tapping his messages to send him little hearts. Stopped replying to his double chin selfies with ones of your own.

You didn’t like Joe any less.

But being around him became something risky.

And Joe hadn’t expected for himself to become a risk.

It was stupid.

It was absolutely crazy, actually.

You wanted to quit your job.

You also wanted to flip your desk, set the sofa on fire, and move to another country.

Your hands constantly itched to do something.

How many feelings was a person able to have at once? Because there were about 26 feelings happening in the middle of your chest simultaneously, and they were seeping into your limbs where you weren’t able to process any of them properly and it was making you angry.

You couldn’t cheat.

Even though you wanted to.

Badly.

But if you were one thing, it was stubborn, and you’d started pushing Joe away when he’d take you to the verge of an orgasm, just to have the overhand. To feel like you were in charge still, even though whatever you thought you held in the palm of your hand was starting to leak through your fingers.

You were not having a good time.

And so you decided that Joe also wasn’t allowed to have a good time anymore.

Joe’d initiated sex three nights in a row, and all three times, you’d avoided his advances.

Shied away.

Moved just out of reach.

And the first time, Joe thought it was sort of cute. He’d said, “My poor baby,” and had chuckled a little before leaving you alone.

The second time, all he could really be was sweet. Be polite. If you said no, you didn’t want it, and so that was your choice.

But the third time, Joe quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Is something wrong? Have I… did I break you?”

His attempt at humour got dismissed. You didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile. Just looked at your phone and flatly said, “No. I’m not made to be broken. But, it feels more fair like this.”

“Huh?”

“If I don’t get to have any, you shouldn’t either.”

“How is that more fair, exactly?” Joe’d tried moving in on you, hand sliding over your stomach, body scooting closer to curl all around you.

“I don’t know. Feels it, so…” You didn’t move. Kept your eyes on your phone and pretended there weren’t soft circles drawn into your side with a slow fingertip.

“Okay,” Joe chuckled silently, “But I never said that I didn’t want to–”

You clicked off your phone and interrupted, “Well, tough. Deal with it.”

Your phone got placed onto your bedside table, and you started moving to lay on your side, facing away from him, wriggling out of his hold as you did.

Joe let you get comfortable before he humorously said, “I actually think… yea, I think that this could mean that I’ve won. I’m right.”

“You’re not right.” You deadpanned, eyes already closed, ready to ignore Joe behind you and go to sleep.

“But I am.”

“No.”

“Explain how.” Joe curved another hand over your hip, but you were quick to move it aside.

“No.”

God, you were being impossible. It was a shame that this was funny to only one person in the room – it would’ve been way more fun if Joe’s giggles would’ve kick-started yours, but you stayed silent.

“Well, all right. Let’s spend some quality time together then. I’ll do some good foreplay for you, hmm?” Joe was fucking around. “I want to… baby, I want to do a fun activity together. Be close to you. Give you some appreciation, learn about you, I–”

“Fuck you.”

Joe was using every word you’d uttered that night with Izzy against you now, and listen: you were not wrong.

You were right.

Joe had just gone and changed the game, that was the real issue here, and now you couldn’t even look at his hands without feeling a pulse in your underwear.

How the fuck was that fair?

It wasn’t.

And so Joe was a risk now.

It was all fun and games until Joe realised it maybe had only been fun and games for him. You were still playing, still following the rules, but how could Joe still enjoy this if you weren’t?

When Izzy was the one to invite him over to your shared flat instead of you, he felt his defeat sit heavy in his chest.

He was going to have to admit he’d been wrong and, for his own sake as well as yours, was going to have to admit to it. He was ready for things to go back to normal, if that was even possible.

When you’d walked in after work that evening, one of your belt loops got stuck on the doorhandle before you’d even taken off your jacket.

“Shut up!” You spoke into your flat before anyone had even said anything. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t, but you repeated it in your head like a mantra – I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. You’d have dinner with Izzy to be a good friend and then you’d see if you could calm yourself down enough to actually get an early night.

You knew you needed it.

You likely wouldn’t be able to, though. Hadn’t been able to for a few nights, and it was really starting to fuck with… well. Everything. One thing would go okay, and then two thousand things would go wrong, and you didn’t have the mental capacity to process, let alone deal with, any of it.

Everything was overwhelming.

You needed to soak your whole person in a hot bath for two weeks to reset your brain, you thought.

You got no reaction to your shut up, and when you walked into your kitchen, you saw why. Izzy was crouched down in front of the oven next to Joe.

Surprise.

You hadn’t expected Joe to be there. Hadn’t anticipated to hear his soft voice explain oven settings to your best friend as you’d barged into your flat in the worst mood.

Joe was showing Izzy how he’d set the buttons on your oven the last time, when he made a pasta bake that turned out exactly like the picture from the recipe. Especially amazing, because rarely did pasta bakes even make it onto plates to be served in your flat. Your oven was an old thing that needed careful handling. Couldn’t turn it on and trust it to do its thing on its own; your food would either burn or not cook at all.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked, and both of them turned their heads to see you frowning down at them, your hand rubbing at where you’d just been yanked back into the door.

“What happened?” Izzy asked, half paying attention to the oven still, but she sounded genuinely confused. Moreso when she actually turned her head and looked at you.

“Nothing. I said I’m fine.”

You hid the belt loop you’d just nearly ripped from your jeans on the door handle from view for fear of them commenting on it. That would just piss you off more.

But then Izzy wouldn’t stop looking at you from her crouched position by the oven, so you were quick to add, “Bumped my hip. What’s he doing here?”

That made Joe burst into laughter as he got up and stretched his legs.

You didn’t join in.

You hadn’t invited Joe over.

Your serious face made Izzy frown at you a little as she got up, everyone at eye-level now.

“Joe helped me cook us dinner…”

“Oh. How nice of him.”

Izzy turned her head to look at Joe and hesitated a little before she said, “I know I’m the best friend, but, can you maybe...” she nodded her head in your direction.

Joe scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

"Nah. She said she’s fine, didn’t she?"

Smug bastard.

"I am."

They both looked at you.

"What- leave me alone. I’m fucking fine!"

No one had even said anything, but you were stomping out of the kitchen anyway. Maybe dinner could be a thing you just didn’t have tonight. You’d have some self-loathing with a side of slamming doors instead, and it would satisfy you all the same.

After the door to your bedroom slammed shut, you let your fingers slide into your hair where you gripped tightly, just for a second.

Took a few deep breaths, just to calm down.

What would be good right now?

No.

Besides that.

What else would be good right now?

Change.

You could change into a softer outfit.

Be gentle to yourself.

No one else was going to be, so you might as well.

You’d only just taken your top off when the door opened behind you.

You knew it’d be Joe, so you ignored it.

Softly the door got closed again, and Joe turned to lean against it, hands behind his back, head tilted back as he looked at you.

“Hey,”

“What?” you snapped.

“Have you eaten today?” Joe’s voice remained soft, not affected by your moodiness at all.

“Had a fat lunch, thanks for asking.” You wiggled out of your jeans and found a pair of soft joggers. You changed without looking at Joe, and then, when you finally did, you saw him look at you like he knew exactly what was going on.

A small, little smile that said, “You’re only acting like this because of what I asked of you.”

Eyes sort of twinkly that said, “And you know that we both know what the problem is.”

And Joe wasn’t totally wrong, but also definitely not totally right. You were feeling the way you were feeling for lots of reasons.

Joe looked at you like that for exactly long enough for you to snap, “What?” at him.

Then, he suddenly frowned.

“You been avoiding me?”

“No.”

“I think you’ve been avoidning me.”

“I haven’t.”

You suddenly heard the front door open and close, and Joe saw how you paused to listen.

“Izzy,” Joe simply said by ways of explaining, like he knew she’d be heading out. Which made no sense - they’d just made dinner together.

But you hadn’t witnessed the way Izzy had looked at Joe when you’d stormed out of the room. Hadn’t heard how Joe answered her unasked question by saying, “We’re playing a weird game, it’s been... it’s been a while.” He said it like he knew it was ridiculous, and it got followed by an uneasy weird silence that provoked him to add, “You said you didn’t want to know what we– how we–” Izzy’d raised her hand, stopping him before he could say more, had then told him to fucking finish the game already, you fucking weren’t children, and Joe’d laughed that maybe Izzy didn’t want to be in the flat for it.

Izzy made the executive decision to have her dinner elsewhere then, face scrunched up in disgust as she opened the kitchen cupboard that held all the plastic containers you owned, ready to put whatever was in the oven away for another time.

She reminded Joe of the behind-closed-door rules before pointing him towards your room, sending him on his way like an irritated mum would.

Before you could really think to ask why Izzy’d left, Joe gave his chin a little tilt and distracted you when he said, “Remember when I thought you were cheating before… You’re kind of cheating now.”

And you had no time for childish silly games. Joe could leave and take his dinner with him. Come back later when you felt like being around him again.

“Joe, stop being annoying, I’m not–”

“No, no. That wasn’t a question.”

You gave an annoyed huff and dropped your shoulders whilst your face fell too. If Joe wasn’t going to let you tell him how annoying he was being, he was at least to observe by your body language how annoyed you felt.

But then Joe stepped forward, and used the back of his hand, backs of his fingers, to slowly caress a soft line down your face. He barely touched you, but the little trace that did catch your skin, sparked immediate goosebumps.

Your breath hitched a little at the sudden softness from him, and you felt yourself sway on the spot.

“This all it takes?” Joe made his voice sound all soft, a little innocent, like he was just being curious as he watched your eyebrows knit together.

“No…”

Yes.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

No.

Joe let his fingers curl around your neck, and your head dropped to the side as your eyes closed, your imagination wandering somewhere dangerous now, and fuck off, you were supposed to be mad at him. That little desperate noise wasn’t meant to slip from your throat.

“What about this?” Joe quietly wondered as he moved in closer and let his lips softly brush the skin on the side of your neck.

You thought you went deaf for a second.

“Hmm?” Joe hummed in question when you failed to answer him, and you couldn’t actually get any words out, because you just knew every word would come out all shaky, like it would ache to speak at all.

All you managed was a tiny shake to your head as you tried swallowing down the hazy feeling that was making your mind run a mile a minute.

Joe lowered his voice as much as he could when he followed up with a little confused, “No?”

He saw how you frowned, the smallest of movement in your brow, and for fear of you trying to pull yourself out of whatever you were slowly sinking into, Joe let his forehead touch yours.

You knew what he was doing.

“No, you can’t...” you breathed against Joe’s mouth.

“Can’t what?” Joe kept you in place, hand on the back of your neck still, eyes closed, forehead to forehead.

Joe could feel how you were trying your best to hold onto your last little bit of resistance. However, a short strengthening of his grip was enough for it to ebb away, and Joe pretended for your sake that he couldn’t feel you shaking like a leaf.

“Can’t let me...” Lose, you wanted to say, but you faltered, and Joe used the opportunity to sneak a kiss. He went in for a soft little romantic one, something small to maybe make the words come back to you, but the moment that your mouths touched, you lost all inhibitions and immediately slapped both hands around Joe’s neck to pull him into you forcefully.

Joe let a surprised little noise escape him.

He hadn’t expected this hunger from you, which he quickly realised was actually so dumb. He’d left you starving, and then you added to that by not feeding yourself. He should’ve seen this coming from miles away.

It was perfect, too. He knew it meant he could manoeuvre you to right where he wanted you to be.

See if you’d beg.

Or at least, ask nicely.

With a soft palm to your stomach, Joe started pushing you back towards your bed, and he thought it wouldn’t be so easy, but it was shocking how you were forcefully pulling him with you. How you let yourself fall back onto your mattress and held onto Joe to ensure he’d go down with you.

You’d been avoiding Joe for this exact reason.

One little finger of outreach made you grab onto his whole being.

And Joe simply went with it, obviously.

Went with you hurriedly squirming out of your clothes with fumbling hands.

Went with the legs that wrapped around him, ankles hooking him right into place with no escape.

Went with the urgency with which you kissed him, and let himself get lead to that same spot, where your energy linked up and matched, and soon, you both were just failing limbs and panting open mouths as Joe was quick to push himself inside where he found you were more than ready for him, like you’d been waiting.

Which, yea, that checked out. You fucking had been.

“Oh, shit,” Joe groaned, and immediately had you moaning.

He’d missed those moans.

Not that he’d gone so long without, but you know. If Joe had things his way he’d hear those same noises at least twice, maybe three times a day.

There was nothing soft about how you were handling each other.

Nothing soft about how you were both treating this like a quickie that you wanted to pay off for yourself before it would pay off for the other.

You kind of forgot about the bet.

Which made sense.

Joe was breathing heavily beside your ear, letting his mouth graze over the shell of it, and if he wasn’t also jackhammering himself inches deep inside of you, just that would’ve sent you into overdrive.

It was silly how quick you felt yourself getting close.

The second you fully registered it, you panicked a little.

“Wait, no, no, stop, I’m–” you almost auto-piloted the staving off, like you had been doing for a while now, but Joe was quick to shush you.

“Want you,” he huffed, struggling as you tensed up under him. He wished that didn’t feel so nice. “Want you to come.”

“No, the... the...”

The bet. The deal. The game. You didn’t want to lose. Couldn’t lose. Joe was wrong. He had to know he was wrong. He–

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying. That was going to help no one right now.

But Joe saw, and in a wild turn of unexpected events, he turned into the one that begged.

“Stop,” Joe whispered, hips slowing down just a smidge. Just enough to get you right where he wanted to get you. Where he knew it’d be so easy to make you tip over fairly quickly.

“I got you, please. Please, come for me– want you to, ah, want you to feel good. You can come. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m about to come, I wanna come together, please, you–”

You cut Joe off with a loud gasp that turned into louder moans you tried to swallow for fear of them turning into screams.

There it was.

You’d bent until you snapped.

Snapped right in half.

And, fuck, was it delicious.

If Joe’d had more decency, he would’ve maybe waited with his own orgasm. Would’ve maybe tried to make the moment all about you.

But Joe wasn’t a decent guy, was he? You felt how he came inside of you, body trembling on his forearms that pressed into the bed either side of you.

“That’s it, keep going. Come on, let go. Let it all out.” Joe cooed, like he wasn’t actively orgasming himself, using the softest of whispers directly into your ear as you uncontrollably convulsed and whined underneath him.

You’d never come so hard, you thought.

You’d also never burst into sobs right after an orgasm before.

“Hey, hey, hey, c’mere.” Joe was quick to pull out of you, dick still twitching as he sat back on his knees before pulling you up into him for a hug. You let yourself be dragged into a sitting position, immediately enveloped into both your boyfriend’s arms that squeezed you tight.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice slightly enthused with a light amount of loving ridicule. “What are you crying for, hey? You’re okay. You’re okay.”

And that was just the thing.

The release of everything you’d kept pent up inside had such an overwhelming effect that feeling just okay was more than enough to get you all up in your emotions.

And the fact that it made you feel silly and stupid and pathetic for it didn’t really help the case.

Joe let you cry like that for a minute, and just made sure to hold you close to his chest. Skin to skin. Sway side to side, all warm and safe, exactly where he wanted you. Where he’d gladly have you forever. Naked too, preferably. All vulnerable, just like this.

Perfect.

It took a long while before he felt you calm down and pull back a little, but when you eventually did, he moved back to take a good look at you. To really take you in.

You looked a right mess. Sort of embarrassed. Rosy, blotchy cheeks. Make-up smeared all over.

Perfect.

“Oh, you’ve got some,” Joe moved a finger up to move a sticky strand of hair from your face. “You’ve got some pretty here, hang on,” he joked, taking your warmed cheek into his hand. “Come here, I’ll get it.”

Joe had you giggling before you knew it, pressing little kisses to your cheek, jaw, chin and eventually getting you on the mouth where he kissed you one, two, three times.

Quick fourth time when he pulled back and saw how the embarrassment lingered on your features a little.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured when Joe give you the sweetest little pursed smile, which you immediately saw vanish upon hearing your apology.

“No,” he shook his head at you like you were a child.

You ignored it, wiping your face dry - or at least attempting it - with the back of your hand.

“For the dramatics.”

“No.” Joe stressed, taking over face-drying-duties with both of his hands, and you were so close to rolling your eyes at him.

You knew you were going to have to say it now.

Couldn’t wait for him to bring it up later because you’d knew he’d be a little shit about it.

There was no way he was going to mean about it now, and you’d best use that to your advantage.

“You were right,” you mumbled in your softest voice, just shy of a whisper, because these words didn’t need to be heard by the whole world. You looked at Joe through your eyelashes and gave him a small shy smile when you added, “Guess you won.”

And Joe fucking beamed at your words.

Had to bite his bottom lip into his mouth to stop from smiling so fucking hard.

For a moment you just looked at each other like that.

Twin smiles.

This was all he had wanted, Joe thought to himself, but then realised right in that moment that actually, he wasn’t right.

He wasn’t right at all.

And neither were you.

God, you were actually idiots.

You were both wrong.

So Joe scrunched up his nose all cute and shook his head a little when he said, “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.”

Your forehead twinged with confusion.

You couldn’t be wrong.

You couldn’t be wrong about being wrong.

What?

Had Joe not just held you through shaking sobs as you’d cried?

Had he not felt hot tears fall and run down his shoulders?

Joe’d held all the aces for weeks and was now trying to sell you the idea that he’d just been hanging onto a bunch of random cards. A four of spades and six of diamonds and… was he saying that you were right?

“Are you saying I’m right?” you asked, pouting through your confusion and, shut the fuck up, it was just about the most adorable shit Joe’d ever seen. Made saying this next part real easy.

“Yes. Well, partially. You’re partially right.”

You inhaled a sharp breath and waited for further confirmation of you being the smartest person to have ever graced Joe’s life with your presence.

“Crossing the finish line is not the most important part. You were right about that. It’s not.”

Joe paused for effect, and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“The most important part of sex is not crossing the finish line...”

What Joe was going to say next would do good to make you like him more, rather than less.

“...but it’s making you cross the finish line.”

Oh. Shit.

Yea, more.

More.

You liked him more.

So much more.

“Both wrong...” You said it just to hear it, and it sounded nicer than anything else could’ve done.

“Both wrong.” Joe confirmed with a nod, his smile still there.

No aces.

No winners.

All random cards.

All losers.

You let all of that sink in for a second, giving yourself a moment to process what that really meant, and then you were quick to grab Joe by the skull and pull him right back into you, not unlike you’d done before.

With Izzy out the door, Joe could prove his own conclusion right a couple times more, and you’d tell him he was right every time he’d do so.

Joe was right.

Had been right.

But the both of you being wrong was so much sweeter. Tasted so much nicer. Nothing sour, nothing rotten. Just sugary kisses and honeyed sounds of pleasure, flavours and colours and textures that he wished he could bottle up and keep for the rest of his life.

Joe was right, but you were both wrong, and somehow, someway, this was the best possible outcome either of you could’ve probably ever hoped for.

This stupid bet.

Both wrong.

Right. But both wrong.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #bet!joe #double or nothing #all the aces

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