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haywire-hetfield · 9 months ago

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hey, i love your writing so so much ! i dont know if you take suggestions or not .. but when u wrote izzy and dave it was like, amazing ! could i suggest more bottom izzy ? no matter the pairing ! <3

Aww, thank you so much! And I do take suggestions! I decided to use Izzy x Tracii Guns because they deserve some more attention, I hope you like it

Warnings: Top Tracii, bottom Izzy, drunk sex, blow jobs, anal fingering, dirty talk, praise, rough sex, come eating

Words: 2,759

Surprisingly, Izzy wasn’t high. It seemed like being high was an almost daily occurrence for him and that was especially true whenever he was around Tracii. They tended to bring up the worst, or best depending on who you ask, parts of each other. As he laid in Tracii’s bed, though, he was only drunk.

He’d had to lay down, the world spinning like a tilt-a-whirl while he was standing. Tracii was on top of him almost as soon as his back had hit the bed, straddling his hips and laughing down at him. He was heavy and warm, and Izzy found his hands sliding over Tracii’s hips. His fingertips felt numb as they rubbed at the denim of the younger man’s jeans.

Their lips had met clumsily, using too much tongue and teeth, but neither seemed to mind. Izzy’s hands sank deep into Tracii’s soft hair and Tracii’s own touched every part of Izzy he could reach. It was nice and Izzy thought he’d be content to lay there with him forever, enjoying how warm he was. Izzy was half-hard against him as Tracii moved around, squirming on top of him.

He wasn’t quite sure how they’d moved from that moment to Tracii kissing down his body, but he wasn’t going to complain. His button-down was now completely unbuttoned, pushed aside enough to expose his bare chest and stomach to Tracii.

Izzy still had most of his clothes on whereas Tracii was almost completely naked. He only had his boxers on, the rest of his clothes spread around the floor. Izzy had taken as long as he could while admiring Tracii, drinking in every inch of skin that was exposed to him.

“That feels fucking great,” Izzy laughed as Tracii kissed a trail down his stomach, ghosting small kisses beneath his belly button. He was so close to Izzy’s cock and Izzy’s body was definitely responding to that, hardening in his jeans a bit. “Keep going, Trace. Get your mouth around me,” He encouraged, deciding against grabbing at Tracii’s hair to try and direct him down further.

Instead, Tracii scraped his teeth over the skin just under Izzy’s belly button. It earned an airy gasp from Izzy and a quiet curse, squirming at the feeling. Tracii was grinning up at Izzy as he pulled away from him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Tracii pointed out and Izzy could feel his warm breath ghosting over his stomach as Tracii laughed. If anything, it only served to rile Izzy up more. “I wonder what other sounds I can get you to make,” Tracii hummed thoughtfully, almost as though he was talking out loud to himself.

Tracii reached down to unbutton Izzy’s pants, fingers missing the button at first. He was as drunk as Izzy was and it showed in his lack of coordination. After a few moments, he finally got Izzy’s jeans down his legs and threw them haphazardly to the bedroom floor. His boxers followed shortly after and Izzy spread his legs enough for Tracii to settle himself comfortably between them.

“Fuck,” Izzy breathed out when Tracii licked at the head of his cock, fingers wrapping around the base. It felt amazing even though the alcohol was numbing his nerves a bit. “Just like that, Trace. Keep going,” Izzy’s eyes closed, head resting against the pillows and focusing on the pleasure.

Tracii took more of him slowly, trying not to overwhelm himself. Izzy was grateful for whatever contact he got at this point, now completely hard for the other man. He groaned when Tracii’s tongue dipped into his slit, swiping away the precum that was gathering up there. He’d always been sensitive, Tracii had been right. The pleasure was even more intense now and he wondered how much of that was mental.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Tracii suddenly hollowed his cheeks, beginning to actually suck his cock. Izzy hissed out a breath at the feeling, hand finding Tracii’s hair for some leverage. He didn’t try to move the other around, he only held onto him. His head didn’t bob very far down, but he moved quickly and the mix of feelings was damn near perfect. It was the perfect balance of suction and his tongue licking at the more sensitive spots.

Izzy’s mind wandered a bit, imagining what it might be like to have full control. If he was able to actually fuck Tracii’s face, to hold onto his head and guide his cock all the way down his throat. He remained careful with Tracii for now, moaning out when Tracii took him down further. The slide was made easy by how wet Tracii’s mouth was and Izzy had to focus on not thrusting into his throat.

He swallowed around him, taking him a bit deeper. Almost immediately, Tracii gagged around him and pulled away. Izzy stroked his hair reassuringly as Tracii tried to get his gag reflex under control.

“Are you okay?” Izzy asked him, opening his eyes and sitting up enough to look at Tracii. His eyes were watering up, but he gave a nod of his head and soon stopped gagging. “Don’t go back down. I’m gonna come soon and I want to be inside you before I do,” Izzy told Tracii when he tried to take his cock back into his mouth.

Tracii looked up at him with a confused look on his face and he shook his head at Izzy.

“You’re not topping,” Tracii replied and it caught Izzy off guard. He certainly didn’t mind bottoming, especially not for Tracii, but it hadn’t been what he was expecting. “I don’t bottom,” Tracii added and Izzy suspected he was trying to sound more honest than he actually was. Izzy smiled and raised his eyebrows at him, earning a halfhearted glare from the shorter man.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Izzy teased, laughing softly. “I’ve heard you get passed around like the last beer,” There was no real bite or judgment behind Izzy’s words and Tracii seemed to know that. He barely held back a smile, trying to keep pretending he’d been irritated by it.

“Shut up, Stradlin. Just open your legs,” Tracii huffed and slapped Izzy’s thigh, not really hard enough to hurt. Izzy was tempted to keep play fighting with Tracii, mostly to see how much he could rile him up before he’d snapped. Ultimately, he decided against it and opened his legs a bit further for Tracii. He had a feeling that sleeping with him would be a lot more fun than fighting with him.

He smiled up at Tracii, his mind feeling light and airy. His head felt like a thick fog had overtaken it, leaving him running on autopilot. Tracii smiled back at him, moving to grab lube off of the table beside his bed before settling back between Izzy’s thighs. Izzy barely registered the cap opening, watching Tracii pour some on his fingers.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Tracii cooed at him, pausing to look over Izzy’s body. The words were supposed to be teasing, he knew that. Tracii’s tone was clearly mocking Izzy, but they sent a shiver down Izzy’s spine. He hadn’t expected to be into something like that, yet here he was. Tracii seemed to catch on too because he laughed. “You like that,” He noted out loud.

“I am a good boy, aren’t I?” Izzy responded, grinning brighter at Tracii. His own body felt so warm and heavy, the alcohol in his system making him giddier than he’d normally be. “Come fuck me, Trace. I wanna feel you,” He encouraged and Tracii nodded, refocusing on what he was doing.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Tracii promised him, slipping his fingers down. The lube had warmed up a bit against Tracii’s skin, not being as cold as Izzy expected it to be when he rubbed at him. One finger just circled Izzy’s hole for a few long seconds, letting him get used to the feeling. “Let me know if you need to slow down,” Tracii said, pressing one finger inside of him at first.

“I can take it, don’t worry. Don’t have to go slow,” Izzy assured him. He hadn’t done this very often, but it’d occurred enough times that he didn’t feel nervous. It certainly helped that he was drunk and turned on. Tracii nodded and added another finger, beginning to open him up.

His fingers were long and talented inside of Izzy, twisting and scissoring them to get Izzy used to it. They quickly found his prostate, smiling when Izzy’s body seized up a bit and he focused on that spot. Being so drunk helped Izzy relax, making the stretching a lot easier and Tracii soon added another finger.

Tracii’s other hand moved down to cup Izzy’s balls, squeezing them gently. Between the fingers and the touching, Izzy let out a quiet moan. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of Tracii’s hands on him. A fourth finger slid inside of him and Izzy shifted a bit. There was a burn now, not enough to cause concern, but it was definitely there. Tracii’s hand slid up to wrap around Izzy’s cock, stroking him steadily to try and distract him from the pain.

Tracii was surprisingly coordinated. He was able to keep his hands doing two separate things pretty well and Izzy was flooded with the idea of how good it must feel when Tracii wasn’t intoxicated.

“You have to stop, Trace. I’m gonna come,” Izzy said finally, once again feeling too close to the edge to keep going. He wanted to stop edging himself, to let himself come the way his body had wanted to multiple times now. “Want you inside me first,” He reminded and Tracii nodded at him, slipping his hand away from Izzy’s cock and carefully removing his fingers.

“Just tell me if it hurts, baby. I know I’m big,” Tracii murmured out and normally, Izzy would think someone was bragging by saying that. Tracii’s tone was much more concerned rather than boasting. When Tracii kicked off his boxers, Izzy could also tell that he was only trying to be honest about it. Tracii was long and thick, and Izzy was suddenly very grateful for the fact he had added a fourth finger.

“I will,” Izzy agreed with a nod of his head and spread his thighs further to give Tracii better access. Tracii’s warm hands found Izzy’s hips, guiding him enough to line himself up easily. The first press of his cock had Izzy closing his eyes, trying to adapt to the stretch. He was bigger than anything Izzy had ever taken before, but between the alcohol and how much he wanted Tracii, he couldn’t bring himself to mind. “Oh, fuck. Keep going,” He breathed out, feeling more and more full with every passing inch.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Tracii breathed out. He was finally pressed all the way inside of Izzy, pausing to give them both time to adjust. Izzy wanted to protest and point out that he wasn’t really that tight, Tracii was just huge. “Gorgeous too,” Tracii said with a bright smile that made Izzy’s chest feel tight. He leaned down enough to kiss Izzy, only pulling away after a few moments once he thought Izzy was ready.

“You’re more gorgeous,” Izzy told him once he felt like he could speak clearly again, exhaling sharply when Tracii began moving. He’d never felt so full before, Tracii was stretching him and touching him so deeply that it bordered on painful. It was certainly overwhelming.

Tracii moved slowly at first, dragging himself almost all the way out before sinking back inside. He pressed his forehead against Izzy’s, his own eyes falling closed as he focused. Adjusting his hips a bit, he started rubbing against Izzy’s prostate with every other thrust in. Izzy groaned at the first contact, encouraging him to keep focusing there. The pleasure jolting through his body made it easier and more enjoyable to take Tracii, relaxing him.

“You can go rougher,” Izzy said after a few more moments of Tracii rocked as carefully as he could. “It doesn’t hurt,” He promised and that seemed to be all the reassurance that Tracii needed. His hips rocked faster and harder once he had permission to, and Izzy thought he was probably as close as he was.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Tracii murmured to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It felt oddly sweet, gentle, soft in the moment. It wasn’t something Izzy was used to, but he could see himself getting used to it over time, especially with Tracii. “You want me to pull out when I get close?” He asked and Izzy nodded back.

“I’m glad too,” Izzy whispered back, closing the gap between them and kissing Tracii on the lips this time. It was slow and tender, contrasting the increasingly rough thrusts. He moaned against Tracii’s lips, one hand finding its way into his hair and the other finding its way to his back. Tracii groaned when he felt Izzy’s nails scraping along his back, although he wished he’d dig them in a bit deeper.

One of Tracii’s hands moved off of Izzy’s waist and pressed down between their bodies, wrapping around Izzy’s cock. The precum beading at the head made the slide along his skin easy, the friction causing Izzy to whine and press up towards his hand. Tracii stroked him steadily, matching each thrust with a long rub along his length.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Izzy told him as he broke the kiss, opening his eyes and nudging Tracii’s face away from his own enough to get a good look at him. “And so pretty,” He praised, tightening his fingers in the back of Tracii’s hair. He knew the strands would be messed up by the end of it, a physical reminder of what they’d done.

Tracii grinned at him, clearly enjoying the praise as much as Izzy enjoyed giving it. He leaned back against the hand in his hair and Izzy noted that was something to do more often. He really hoped this wouldn’t be a one time thing because it felt amazing and he had a feeling it was coming to a close.

“You are too, baby. You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna be a good boy and spill all over my fist?” Tracii asked and Izzy whimpered at those words, giving a small nod of his head. “Good boy,” Tracii tightened his hand on Izzy’s cock, twisting his wrist every time he got close to the head. Tracii focused his hand on the sensitive head, palm and fingers working cleverly over him.

“Fuck, Trace. Please,” Izzy’s voice was higher now, far more breathy as he got closer. Tracii moved faster and that pushed Izzy over the edge. At the first feeling of wet warmth, Tracii moved his hand away from the head and stroked lower on his shaft. “God, fuck. Keep going,” Izzy panted and Tracii didn’t need to be told twice, stroking Izzy through his orgasm and only letting go once he was completely done.

“I’m gonna come,” Tracii warned and he pulled out after a few more thrusts. He wrapped the hand that had previously been around Izzy’s cock around his own, stroking himself the rest of the way. “Goddammit,” He hissed out as he came, rope after rope hitting Izzy’s stomach, mixing with his own come.

“Good boy,” Izzy praised with a smile, watching Tracii finish. He frowned when Tracii brought his hand up to his mouth, licking off both of their come. “Ew, Tracii! That’s so fucking gross,” He scolded and the other grinned at him. “What are you doing?” He asked as Tracii moved down the bed, scrambling a bit quickly and he had a feeling Tracii was up to something.

His concerns were only solidified by Tracii licking a long stripe over his stomach, directly through where the majority of their come had puddled up. Izzy made a fake gagging noise and Tracii didn’t stop until Izzy’s stomach was completely clean. He ducked his head lower, sucking the head of Izzy’s softened cock into his mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t. Too sensitive,” Izzy told him, shaking his head. His hand shot down to grab Tracii’s hair, pulling him away from his cock. “Nuh-uh. No way. Get away from me,” He chided when he saw Tracii was leaning up to kiss him. Despite the words, Izzy still welcomed the kiss from him happily, arms sliding around Tracii’s neck.

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skinomyteethh · 1 year ago

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to be or not to be?

pairing; kelly nickels x fem! reader

summary; thoughout kelly's newfound fame as bassist of L.A guns he had been acting different though you weren't sure if it was due to the restless nights they'd spend preforming or another aspect

contains/warnings; mentions of cheating. oral (female receiving). fingering. teasing. slight cum eating? little to no dialogue. may contain spelling errors :(

authors note; I need kelly nickels' magic stick in my mouth. also it deleted the damn ask so </3 anyways I hope y'all enjoy reading this!!!

cheating in the eighties or seventies rockstar scene was not at all unusual or taboo, it was extremely difficult to find a rockstar who hadn't cheated on their spouse. hell, robert plant not only had his wife maureen he also had a tour wife and a multitude of other groupies alongside him. these stories seemed to absolutely terrify [name], the thought of her boyfriend cheating on her while on tour was extremely stomach churning.

she sat on the sofa of their shared apartment, staring at the television emotionlessly and in deep thought until a phone call disrupted her thinking. a soft sigh parted her lips as she stood up and turned off the television, walking over to the phone in the kitchen, answering it.

"hello, this is [name]." she stated rather blandly, hearing the stumming of a guitar and clashing of cymbals as well as loud laughter. "hey babe, it's me, I just wanted to check up on you." his voice was somewhat raspy, it signaled that he had continued his excessive smoking habits. this whole rock 'n' roll scene seemed to be fueled off of addictions.

[name] hummed, maintaining her hold of the phone against her ear as she laid against the wall, fooling around with the coiled cord of the telephone before finally responding. "i've been alright, how about you? are you enjoying the tour?" her tone seemed curious yet curiosity was far from what she was feeling, she had her suspicions.

a short moment of silence came upon them, though it was shortly broken by the sound of Kelly chuckling. "it's been hectic, but i'm glad you're doing alright. we're heading back to Los Angeles later today!" just as she was about to respond she heard another voice, it was the voice of another female, she sounded extremely flirtatious and seemed to have a stupid valley girl accent.

"babe, sorry for cutting the conversation short but I have to go." he remarked, letting out a small laugh before hanging up. [name] stood still for a minute, the phone still in her hand, that whole predicament was strange, unsettling even. perhaps now Kelly was apart of the bunch of idiot rockstars who cheated on their partners/spouses.

she sauntered back to the sofa, turning the television back on. overwhelming thoughts began to fill her head as she leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. what if Kelly had been cheating on her during these past months? what if he had been cheating on her prior to those months? those thoughts filled her head as she slowly drifted to sleep.

at around mid-day the loud, almost uncanny creaking of the front door both opening and shutting startled [name] out of her sleep. she sat up, feeling slightly dazed, not fully awake. her eyes glanced back as she heard the rather heavy bass guitar case drop onto the floor. Kelly hummed placing a soft, quick kiss on her forehead, taking a seat next to her.

upon feeling his lips against her forehead all thoughts prior to his arrival began swarming back, causing her mood to sour. he noticed her sudden and rather drastic mood change, wondering what on earth could have caused it. "did you have fun with her?" her question caught Kelly off guard, what could've caused her to think he was with another woman, despite what others may think he was a loyal, committed man with no desire for anybody but [name].

"what are you talking about?" he queried, raising an eyebrow in confusion. [name] responded with a scoff, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "you think i'm stupid? I heard that girl Kelly." flashbacks seem to hit him like a wave crashing onto the shore. the girl whose voice she had heard was tracii's new groupie girlfriend, he would never and could never cheat on [name].

"that was tracii's girl." [name] rolled her eyes, her expression was tainted with judgement, she still thought he was lying. Kelly sighed, closing his eyes. he was somewhat irritated at her accusations, out of all the people in this horrid world Kelly thought [name], his girlfriend of however many years would know he would never even think of doing something like cheating.

and he was going to prove it.

Kelly was going to make her realize he still loved her. she was slightly by his abrupt actions as he somewhat roughly threw her onto their bed, haphazardly taking his clothing off. his eyes trailed down to her white lace panties, he trailed down and slotted his hand in between her thighs, tugging at the waistband of her panties with his pearly white teeth.

a soft, desperate whine escaped her lips as he tugged them down. he hadn't bothered taking them off of her completely, they were low enough for him to engulf in her pretty little cunt. his warm tongue began to eat her out rather messily, his chin was dripping wet with her arousal as he slightly nudged his nose against her clit, licking up and down her folds as if she were to be his last meal ever.

her hands roughly tugged at the roots of her jet black hair, moaning out random praises as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Kelly circled his tongue around her clit painfully slow, [name] glanced down at him, absolutely breathless, finally muttering a coherent sentence. "babe, please.."

desperation and neediness were clear in her tone as she quietly spoke. he hummed, bringing his pointer and middle fingers up to her lips. [name] shakily opened her mouth, enveloping his fingers in the warm of her mouth, coating them in her saliva so he could prep her and finally give her what she desired the most. after a minute or two he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, bringing them down to her entrance, inserting his pointer finger, then his middle finger.

[name] bit her bottom lip roughly, gripping the cool, white sheets below her as he slowly and rather gently fingered her. soon enough, one of her hands wrapped itself around his wrist, maintaining his fingers in place as she eagerly fucked herself against them like an absolute whore. Kelly simply watched her in amusement, placing soft, teasing kisses on her inner thighs.

her movements eventually became sloppier, less desperate and calculated, it signaled that she was getting extremely close to reaching the edge. he simply removed her hand from his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her. at that moment she seemed to despise the feeling of emptiness in her, whining as she took off his underwear.

Kelly desperately slotted his dick between her wet folds, the head bumping against her clit as he moved his hips back and forth, up and down. her arms reached up, and wrapped themselves around his neck, desperately holding onto him, loving the feeling. he halted his movements shortly after, grabbing the base of his dick, breathing heavily while he lined himself up with her hole, reaching his hand down, slapping her cunt before inserting himself into her slowly.

he moved his hips closer to her, watching as her soaking cunt absolutely devoured every inch of his cock. Kelly sighed euphorically as he finally inserted himself completely into her, bottoming out. [name] began to crave him even more than before, slowly moving her hips against him, his hands gripped onto her hips tightly, stopping her movements as he began to roughly thrust in and out of her.

each time their hips met her body felt an overwhelming wave of pleasure, her tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust. Kelly leaned down, pressing his chest to her back, placing soft kiss on the back of her neck as she moaned breathlessly. he reached his hand under her, groping one of her tits, adding even more pleasure into the mix.

every thrust, every groan, every touch drew her closer and closer to her orgasm. her moans began to grow louder and her body became somewhat limp as she finally reached her high, cumming all over his cock. "that's a good girl.." he mumbled, continuing to thrust into her, overstimulating her sensitive cunt.

his hip movements became sloppier by the second until he finally spilled his load deep inside her. slowly and shakily he pulled out, once again slotting his head in between her thighs, spreading her folds open with his fingers, pushing whatever mixture of their cum spilled out back into her.

finally, Kelly sat up, laying his head against the headboard, breathing heavily. "I hope that showed you how much I absolutely love you and how I would never cheat on you hun." he mumbled, bringing her closer to him. [name] let out a breathless chuckle, laying her head down on his abdomen, glancing up at him.

"it definitely proved something like that."

#fanfic #kelly nickels #kelly nickels smut #kelly nickels fanfiction #la guns #kelly nickels imagines #la guns x reader #smut #kelly nickels fanfic

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thesmokingguns · 2 years ago

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Darling Nikki Part 1 of 2

Featuring: Reader x Kelly Nickels, Reader x Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

A/n: I have edited and rewrote this a bit. Just minor changes but I hope you enjoy

Reader POV

Halloween was my favorite holiday. I love recreating myself in different outfits, being this character and deciding who I wanted to be an hour before becoming it. There was freedom in shapeshifting and I loved the anonymity of the character I chose to be.

Maybe because everyone in Hollywood knew who I was, it made the holiday more exciting for me. I liked transforming from Izzy’s girl into Poison Ivy or a devil. I liked it even more now that Izzy and I were on a break and separated by an Ocean as he toured Europe and I could channel all of my anger at him into the creativity of a costume. I would sex it up, push boundaries and be the sex symbol I wanted to be.

It was like a light switch. On and Off. On and Off. All of it coming out on a bill that was expensive on my soul but I was not going to let that fucker ruin my Halloween night. Not this year. This year he had flicked the switch off and I wasn’t going to even try to switch it on again.

I adjusted the nurse's hat on my head, popping my bubble gum in my mouth and doing a slow turn, pulling up my shorts in the back to expose the bottom rounding of my ass. The sound of the phone ringing made me turn away from the reflection I was staring at, back to the reality of my life.

Staring, waiting, as I gulped knowing exactly who was on the other end of that line and knowing that I sure as shit was not going to be picking it up and giving him the sense of satisfaction to find me home on Halloween night. I wanted his stomach to twist knowing I was doing all of the things he didn't want me to be doing. It was petty and it was a false sense of control but fuck him.

I hoped he was thinking of me under someone else. I hope he thought of tasting me and getting the taste of someone else’s cum. If he wanted to fight with me, if he wanted to break up when he was in another continent doing god knows what, let him suffer.

“Hey my beautiful girl, I know we had a really bad fight and I said some things that…uhh…cmon Y/N please answer the phone and we can talk. I’m going to fly home early because I don’t want to break up again. I want to-“

“If you didn’t want to break up with me.” I said, picking up the phone and interrupting him, “You shouldn’t have thrown a hissy fit about having needs and demanding I fly out and finish the tour with you. But you did and now I have needs, Iz. And someone is going to satisfy them tonight.” Before he could get another word in I hung up the phone.

I’d make him regret those words he said to me. I hoped that for the rest of his life he regretted being a selfish prick.

Izzy POV

She still wasn’t answering my calls. This didn’t really come as a surprise after the huge phone call blow out that had happened almost two weeks ago. We were in England and I told her I was buying her a ticket so she could come on tour with me, I needed her and missed her but instead of just saying that like a normal person I had made it seem like I was a scumbag with too much temptation around me and without her I would cheat.

I would never cheat on Y/N. Ever. It didn’t even cross my mind or seem like a coherent thought that I had ever had. When we broke up we’d sleep around, realize how much we missed each other and have explosive sex but never had I even considered the groupies that decorated backstage when I was with her.

But now that she made it very clear that we were off again I was sure she was out having a good old time trying to prove to herself that she could be just as happy without me as she was with me. This usually meant she would go to parties alone and sleep in a place that wasn’t our bed for the night.

Maybe I should be more jealous of the fact she would sleep with these other guys but I really didnt care about her having sex with someone else. Some people cried when the were upset, my girl just fucked.

So when she did answer the phone I was sure that it was Halloween night and she was going to be wearing the dirtiest outfit she could find and making sure that someone appreciated her when I hadn’t. But I was hoping that when morning came and she came back to the house that I would be there, waiting for her and ready to end this yo-yo cycle of back and forth breakups; Y/N was my girl and I wouldn’t let her keep escaping.

Maybe I should take her words seriously but she loved me. She could have whatever physical interaction she needed to feel wanted in that moment but she only loved me.

I gulped, hands in my hair as I boarded a flight home to her. My eyes were bloodshot and red as I thought about how I wouldn’t fight with her again. She had won. I learned my lesson.

Kelly POV

The best part of Halloween was all the chicks in their barely-there costumes. I loved all the scantily clad girls wiggling when they walked or dancing with their friends. Halloween was always girls dressing for girls or themselves. That was the secret that they didn’t want us to know. It was the best night of the year for me though. I got to watch them in their school girl costumes and angel wings with lingerie. Who needed Christmas gifts when I could see this?

I was holding my two fingers of whiskey neat, eyes looking at the dance floor as the girls shimming their bodies to music I didn’t like. The way girls danced with their friends was always my favorite. They weren’t trying to be sexy with the big smiles on their faces or grinding their girl friends but the way that they looked so happy always made me want to join in on the fun.

I saw a girl dressed in a silver shimmering outfit, tits pushed up and ready to blast off into outer space or into my bedroom with the way she was eyeing me. But as I moved across the dance floor to meet her my eyes shifted as this strong perfume scent pulled my eyes in another direction.

Holy shit.

She wasn’t with her friends but she was dancing alone, her hips swaying side to side with her hands in the air. Tight little booty shorts that looked more like underwear than a costume and a zippered top that was halfway unzipped, looking like it was going to come undone with a single wrong move. Or the right move.

Before I realized what I was doing I was veering off in her direction, walking over to where she was dancing and standing in front of her with my drink in hand. She looked me up and down then without missing a beat reached for my drink, downing it in one big gulp.

“Thanks.” she handed me the empty glass back, a smudge of red lipstick on the rim as she kept on dancing. There was this sense that she was having much more fun by herself than she would without anyone else and I was eating up her self confidence like a starved dog..

“I’m Kelly.” I yelled over the music, but she just nodded her head, already seeming to be bored with my company. I waited a beat for her to say her name or anything at all but she clearly wasn’t interested in talking to me. I wasn't one to give up easily and she wasn’t the type of girl who you’d come across alone, “Are you going to tell me your name?” I asked, giving her the smile that usually would melt ladies.

“I know who you are. And no, I’m not going to tell you my name. You shouldn’t talk to me if you know what’s good for you.” The way she said this made me think I should know who she was. But even though she looked familiar I couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she was from or how I knew her.

My hand gripped her waist, pulling her close to me and stopping her from dancing around. She looked up at me and gave me this look up and down like she was trying to figure something out or get a read on me. She licked the top of her cherry read lips, shaking her head ever so slightly as her hands wrapped around the back of my neck, clasping there.

“It’s your funeral.” she warned before I tried pressing my lips against hers. She pressed two fingers against my lips, shaking her head, “I don’t kiss guys on the lips. If you want to fuck we can but we need to go back to your place, you wear a condom, and I never tell you my name.” I don’t know why the fact she was laying out rules for me turned me on even more. Maybe it was because she was straightforward and knew what she wanted that I liked.

But I nodded my head, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the party and back to my house.

Reader POV

As Kelly led me into a house that I had visited before with Izzy I felt like I was making a mistake. Usually I would sleep with random guys that I would never see again. A flesh transaction that didn’t matter because I’d never see that stranger again.

But this was Kelly Nickels from the LA Guns, a band that Izzy was friends with and who we had seen together on more than one occasion. We had been to parties together here. Izzy had fucked me in the bathroom, picking me up on the counter and making me cum so hard I begged him to go home after becasue my legs were so shaky I couldn’t walk right.

Izzy.

I could feel the way my stomach turned at the name of the man. It was happening quickly. I missed him and I wanted him to be back. The European tour would be ending, they had to do some promotions around Europe and then they would come home. Europe was where I should be. Dancing drunk in the streets of Paris with Izzy well he used his D Grade High School French to try and buy us coffees to sober up as we watched the city lights twinkle around us and made bad romantic statements that were more about being together than the actual words that we spoke.

Izzy who had threatened to cheat on me. Izzy who broke up with me. Izzy who had hurt me..

We stopped outside a bedroom and Kelly motioned for me to go inside but I smiled coyly, buying myself some time. This was the first time I had needed a break like this and I knew that it wasn’t good. Self awareness has a price and sometimes it’s hard to pay it.

“I just need to call my roommate and let them know where I am.” he motioned down the hall to a phone and I was thankful for the privacy he gave me as I dialed the number to the apartment that I shared with the man. I knew that he wouldn’t be there but I dialed anyway. I would leave him a message and let him know where I was and that I loved him and that I was still mad at him. I hung up after the message that I’d erase when I got home and laid my forehead against the cool wall.

Why was I like this? Why when I was mad at Izzy would I take random guys and let them fuck me so that I could feel something? Why couldn’t I just cry like a normal person and just get it all out of me?

Taking in a deep breath I glanced at the door that was open and that I knew I shouldn’t go into but I pushed open anyway, seeing Kelly laying on the bed, naked and cock hard as he stroked it lazily as if he was building himself up for me.

His eyes lazily fell to me, dark joyful looks that weren’t the heavy looks of seduction that I was used to and I almost felt embarrassed by the way that made me blush but I knew it was dark in here and he couldn’t see all my features clearly. He could see me well enough I realized as I unzipped my top and let my tits bounce out, unrestrained.

The way he sucked in his breath watching me as he touched himself gave me a good feeling. It pushed away some of the sadness that I had seeing the way this man wanted me. I rolled off my shorts, moving to take off the boots that I was wearing.

“Stop. Keep them on. I want to see you dance only wearing them.” My lips rolled into a smirked as I let my fingertips whisper over my thighs and stomach as I stood back up, Hips rocked to the sides as I let my hands explore myself. My fingertips rolled over the softness of my skin, over the peaks of my nipples, down to the valley between my thighs, fingers dipping against my body to rub my clit and play with the wetness that was growing there.

I was a natural performer.

My mind was on the show that I was performing, eyes watching Kelly stroking his cock and wondering if we’d both cum without even touching each other. My mind was on Izzy and even though another man was watching me fingering myself in his room all I could think about was the time Izzy had walked in on me, legs on either side of the bath as I played with myself.

He had come into the bathroom, watching me for god knows how long as I rubbed my tits, fingers furiously going in and out of my cunt, the warm water splashing out of my body as I moaned in pleasure in the bath. When he had asked me if I touched myself like this when he was on tour I almost drowned myself in embarrassment. BUt Izzy had reached into the tub, eyes on me as he helped me continue rubbing my clit. Watching me, his hands guiding me to keep playing with myself until…

“I’m going to cum.” I moaned out and heard him moan out something that sounded like me too. I came apart, my fingers sticky with my own fluids that leaked out. Mind thinking of Izzy as I cried out in someone else's room.

Both of us looked up at each other, the intimacy of touching ourselves well the other watched . Kelly gave me a smirk.

“That was different.” I shrugged my shoulders, moving to pick up my clothes from where they had been dropped as he spoke, “Well, since you wasted the one shot of me fucking you why don’t you at least spend the night here. I wouldn’t want you to leave so late.” I hesitated but figured it was close to morning and I could sneak out soon anyway. So I climbed into bed with him, letting him cradle my naked body against his and fall asleep like I was his human teddy bear.

And as I closed my eyes I wished it was Izzy holding me.

Kelly POV

I rubbed my eyes, looking around the room and being slightly surprised that there wasn’t a girl tucked under my arm. She had been here when I fell asleep. But she didn’t seem like the type to cling to a persons he had gone home with,

Getting out of bed, my eyes scanned the nightstand and I wasn’t surprised to see that there wasn’t any scrap of paper with a number on it. She hadn’t even given me her name last night. All she had said is that if I knew her name that was just more trouble for me. And when a woman admitted she was going to bring trouble into my life I tended to believe them, no matter how good the lay was.

“You idiot.” my door flew open and Traci was standing there looking at me furiously, “Out of all the girls in LA you slept with her.” My eyebrows knitted together. Was she one of his exes? She looked vaguely familiar last night but not bandmates ex familiar.

“What are you talking about?” my hand rubbed at my eyebrows, the hangover settling in at the first loud noise of the day. I was thinking about going back to bed already, especially since there wasn’t going to be anything worth waking up to.

“I was in the kitchen this morning and do you know who walked in?” I smirked, she was gorgeous so there was nothing to really be ashamed of, “Izzy Stradlin’s girl.” Oh fuck. The blood must have drained out of my face as he looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world and I was feeling like it.

It didn’t matter if they were broken up; everyone knew that Izzy and his girl would break up just for the thrill of the makeup. He was overprotective of her and if he found out, which I was sure he was going too since we hadn’t been too shy about leaving that Halloween party practically eye fucking each other, I was dead.

She had warned me that she was trouble but now I knew just how much.

#Kelly Nickels #kelly nickels smut #kelly nickels fanfic #Izzy Stradlin #Izzy Stradlin fanfic #Izzy Stradlin fan fic #LA Guns #GNR

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punishereditz · 2 years ago

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My Page

Playlist

Request

Top Gun Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Creed Masterlist

Punisher Masterlist

Reacher Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Tyler Owens Masterlist

Wolverine Masterlist

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remotewatch · 4 months ago

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handprints, footprints all on my glass

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.6k wc

minors dni please and thanks, this is hag business

summary: it’s a short ride from the afterparty to the airport, theoretically

cw: shameless smut, she comes first 💪, dry humping, dom reader sorta, pathetic simp Jack enjoyers make some noise!!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, we’re degrading him a bit whoops, accidental vabbing (?????) girl idk, reader wears the pants not the panties, they’re in one of those Mercedes vans, wear your seatbelts everywhere but here

The jet lag was undoubtedly winning. As luck would have it, the busiest weeks of the year for you and Jack overlapped nearly entirely. It had been nonstop flights, engagements, meetings, press releases, dinner parties, galas, openings of buildings for charities for either dogs or orphans, orphaned dogs maybe, for so long you’d entirely lost track and were ever thankful that most of your speaking assignments were behind you. This last afterparty had fried you both; you didn’t have a single networking conversation left in you. Collapsed opposite you in the jump seat, Jack looked just as spent as you felt.

Of course, he still looked too good. It was fucking sweltering in that venue, and he had loosened his evergreen evening tie and slightly unbuttoned his dress shirt the very second you were shielded by the limo tint. Faint wisps of chest hair peered out from the opening, a fresh tan making his teeth look even whiter. Gun to your head, he’d had his pants taken in too much at the hips, but you’d never say anything that would threaten such a view.

There wasn’t time for that; you were in the home stretch of this hell month and had a packed 16 hour day tomorrow. One last email once over, and you could abandon your work iPad and pass out for the flight back to New York.

“Have you been like that all night?” he asks tentatively.

“Like what?” There’s no immediate response, so you look up from checking tomorrow’s agenda to see Jack shamelessly staring up your cocktail dress at your lack of underwear. The spell breaks when you recross your legs and playfully kick his shin.

“Eyes up here. So what if I was?”

Jack blinks dumbly at you and clears his throat. His eyebrows draw together out of confusion.

“But I saw you get dressed this morning. Where’s that pair I just bought you?”

“They’re wrapped in your pocket square. Did you forget to switch it out for a dry one before lunch?” you ask, holding back a shit-eating grin.

It’s hard to deny the rush you get watching Jack go pale and fish the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his discarded suit jacket, still sticky from cleaning you up a few hours ago. Sure enough, there’s a crumpled La Perla thong cradled in the middle. You interrupt his stuttering protests when you kick your pumps off and slide a foot up his leg.

“Oh please, like you don’t love walking around smelling like me.”

“I do,” his ears are turning red. “but I hugged like twenty people today!”

“Page six has been trying to pin down that musky “cologne” you use for ages. I think you’re safe.” You briefly wonder if you’re leaking onto the leather seats, but that train of thought is halted by Jack’s hand reaching to remove his tie.

“Keep it on.”

He snaps to attention at the direct order.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I like my handle.”

“Do you come with an off switch?”

Break lights flash on in the surrounding lanes. Just your luck; it’s complete gridlock in the few miles between here and the airpark. Maybe there was a little time.

Your foot slides higher, and Jack hisses through his teeth at the contact.

“Why don’t you try and find it?”

There’s barely a millisecond of hesitation before he falls onto you, licking stripes of sweat off your skin from your cleavage to your cheekbones. As always, he’s loud in the way that only a guy who never gets told to shut the fuck up can be: every breath shudders its way out, and he’s basically whimpering into your mouth by the time he gets there, louder when his right hand finds you, in fact, dripping all over the seat. You doubt you’ll ever get used to how thick his fingers are, or the vulgar noises they make when he’s showing off his grip strength knocking on your g spot.

He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up for the afterparty, but his watch was still squarely in the splash zone, and for the briefest of moments you wonder if it’s as waterproof as the cheaper ones he wears surfing. The thought is quickly pushed aside as Jack works you until you’re jolting off the seat trying to get his fingers deeper.

One good yank on his hair gets him off your neck, and he’s so dazed and fucked out already that you almost cum right there.

“Someone looks hungry,” you tease.

“Fuck, please let me-“ He’s cut off by the van suddenly lurching forward and throwing you both off balance, leaving only your vice grip on his tie keeping him in place. There’s a filthy squelch when he pulls his fingers out to suck them clean as he sinks down to his knees. It’s so warm that your dress is sticking to your thighs, and he rapidly loses patience trying to slide it up to your waist.

“This is a rental!” you squeal when the fabric rips, spraying sequins all over the floor. Jack doesn’t even flinch and wraps his lips snugly around your clit.

“Whatever, I’ll buy it,” he mumbles without breaking contact. You find yourself sliding down the sweat slick leather to grind against his face, and he has the nerve to lean back to watch your hips buck desperately.

“I love when you chase it,” he grins. Without missing a beat, you lock your legs around his head and shut him up against you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. I’m not the one humping the floor like a dog.” The mumbly, docile “sorry” that vibrates through you is the hottest thing he’s said all day. And he really is, if his overly enthusiastic slurping indicates anything. Those rapid, precise little strokes of his tongue always froth you up like he’s got a mouthful of soap. By the time you get tired of spelling your name on his nose and shove him to the floor to straddle his face, he’s completely lathered in you.

He lets out a little bleat of surprise when you roughly grab his hair and start manhandling him as if he’s a wet wipe, though he really should expect it by now. Normally, you’d be distractingly aware of the very real possibility the driver can hear the way you’re snarling his name, but time is not on your side right now. The last break lights recede, leaving the compartment only lit by dim blue under-seat bulbs. Your movements grow more frenzied; you’re totally disregarding Jack’s lung capacity and not even aiming for his mouth anymore, just using his whole face like it’s all he’s made for. Right as you begin to worry you have nothing left in the tank due to the lunch commute, a muffled, drawn-out “please” from beneath you sends you tumbling right over the edge. Your orgasm hits you more like a tranquilizer than anything else as the last dregs of your energy drench his face.

As soon as he feels your contractions lessen, he’s tossing you off to sit on his thighs and fumbling with his belt buckle. The van makes a hard right turn onto the final road to the airpark, and Jack lets out a frustrated groan knowing the clock is ticking. Still, he knows not to get in your way when you shove his hands away and slide right back on top of his dick, so hard you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric. You know you’re fucking up his dress pants grinding on him like this, but if nothing else, the linen will dry fast.

“I’m sleeping on the plane whether you finish or not, so make it work.” He doesn’t have enough time to be pissed at you, and he knows it. The sight of him so desperately rutting up against you is nearly enough to get you there all over again. All the tendons in his neck stand out as he presses his lips together trying to focus. His legs splay frantically in an attempt to ground himself, one jet black Oxford wedging under the jump seat and the other pressed flat against the far window. Jack’s head tips back and his eyes screw up in concentration, but you can’t have that, no matter how tasty his Adam’s apple looks. You loop his tie around your hand one more time and yank him back to earth,

“Uh-uh. Look at me when I’m making you cum.” That’ll do it. His expression softens then freezes as his eyes unfocus and his mouth falls open. He sounds downright melodic when he cums, just one long note that gets bounced up and down the scale before trailing off to a whine, and you relish every little twitch of him spilling into his pants, so far from you but certainly close enough.

The van rolls to a stop, and suddenly it’s a fumbling nightmare of you both trying to fish your shoes out from under the seats and smooth each others hair. You snatch Jack’s blazer to cover the rip in your dress, shove the iPad and pocket square-thong mess into your work bag, and throw the door open with what you hope is a believable amount of nobody-get-between-me-and-my-lie-flat-seat urgency.

Wobbly legs insist you grab his hand to step out of the van, and, of course, there’s a fucking pap pressed to the tarmac fence. Jack’s reflexes don’t stand a chance at turning him away in time after what you’ve put him through. When the flash catches his face, you can only look horrified as it perfectly captures the shine you’ve left on him.

Gossipy headlines and vague, tasteful PR statement drafts are already zipping through your head. Add it to the agenda: 16.5 hour day incoming.

#jack schlossberg #I have so much to do and instead I’m here #objectifying this little Ken doll #if you notice the phrases I struggle not to repeat #you did not #not my fault there aren’t enough words out there #jack schlossberg x reader

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polakina · 10 months ago

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tell me your secrets

pairing: valeria garza x reader

rating: explicit

outline: valeria wants information. you want to be out of her compound. she likes your attitude and decides to take this interrogation as a one on one

warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem recieving), kidnapping, interrogation, spanking, flirting, enemies to...fuck buddies??, thigh riding

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: i love this woman. she's got such a hold on me i had to write for her

masterlist

The restraints were cutting deep into your wrists as you struggled to free yourself from them. It was such a stupid move. Arguing with El Sin Nombre’s men during a rally was not your best move. But you were a freedom fighter. You couldn’t stand the way they swaggered around with their smug faces, pointing their guns at innocent bystanders, looking for any information on where their resources were taken to.

You had them. Well, your team had them. You’d caught wind of a shipment for El Sin Nombre on the west side of Las Almas. So before the resources could be picked up by the team, you’d slipped in and taken everything, keeping it in a safehouse far from Las Almas.

One of El Sin Nombre’s men had recognised you from your previous encounters with them, and his emotion overtook him and he’d held you captive. The truck ride felt like hours, being bounced around in the back of the vehicle with a bag over your head. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Or if you were ever coming back.

You heard voices, muffled by the bag over your head which was starting to itch your scalp. It was driving you insane. A few hours you had been sat in this chair, men coming in to question you and leaving enraged when you didn’t speak a word. Not a word had come out of your mouth since you’d gotten out of that truck and been hauled to this room. Or corridor. Or whatever the fuck these boys had put you in.

Trying to untie the knots roped around your wrist, your fingers started to cramp and you cursed out into the darkness, the ties too tight for you to wriggle out of them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you heard to your right. A woman’s voice echoed through the room. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” Footsteps made their way over to you and light seared into your retinas as the bag was harshly pulled off your face. You shook your head, moving the fair out of your eyes, slowly adjusting to the room you were captive in. “I’ve heard about you, you know?” The woman came round to stand in front of you, crouching so she was at your eye level.

You maintained eye contact, showing no emotion, giving nothing away. You couldn’t afford to. If she saw one crack in your facade, she had you in her grasp. “So what’s your name, then, hmm? I know what the freedom fighters call you on the street, but what should I call you?”

Silence. Utter silence filled the room. But it didn’t faze her like the other men. She didn’t get angry, or slap you, or storm out of the room. She just smirked. It seemed more unnerving than anything else.

“Not a big talker? Fine. Let me start this conversation,” she walked around the chair, standing directly behind you. You had no idea what she was doing until you felt her fingers curl into the hair at the scalp, pulling your head back towards the ceiling forcefully. You winced slightly, but said nothing. “You stole our resources, taking them from right under our noses in the middle of the night. Now we have no guns, no ammo, nothing to fight off the terrorists that plague our land. Now we can’t find your men. They’ve gone underground. And nobody’s talking. Not even civilians. You got them wrapped around your finger, don’t you, princesa?” Her face was so close to yours.

You’d seen a lot of El Sin Nombre’s men around in your time, but always under her command. She led them, they were on her orders. The times you’d come into contact with her were never pleasant. She loved toying with you whenever you had stood up to her. Not many people liked to challenge her authority, but you took pride in it. She admired it. She wouldn’t admit it turned her on a little to have someone rile her up, someone she could put in their place. Especially you.

“So now we have you in custody, your men hiding most likely at one of your safehouses which we can’t track down. You’re a smart woman. Maybe we should have hired you instead of the assholes we’ve got wearing our colours.”

You smiled. They hadn’t found your men. They had nothing. They were clutching at straws they barely had a grasp on to begin with. “Tell me where I can find my resources, and I’ll let you go.”

You considered it. For the smallest inch of a second, you seriously considered it. But you didn’t want a war to break out in your town. Nobody could survive that kind of hit.

She released your hair from her grasp, running her fingers through it gently before stepping away, coming back into your field of view. “Either you talk to me, or I let those boys back in on orders to slice you up until you talk. I don’t think you’ll survive for very long after that, honey.” The woman went and stood by the door, her hand on the metal handle. “The choice is yours. But I can promise you right now, I’m much better company.”

Hearing the creak in the handle as she pushed down on it, unlocking it, you stopped her.

“We don’t want a war breaking out. Las Almas is crumbling enough on it’s own. We don’t need to bring fucking genocide into play as well.”

She turned to face you once again.

“Is that what you think we’re doing? Starting a war.” The woman leaned against the door, arms crossed. “We never wanted one either. That’s why we need our shipment. To protect Las Almas and its people.”

“Didn’t feel like you were protecting its people when those assholes out there tore the south side of the city to shreds. Do you even know how many bodies we found? Innocent bodies. All gunned down by El Sin Nombre’s men for no reason.”

She looked down at her feet, rolling her shoulders back. “Those men were dealt with,” she said softly. “El Sin Nombre never gave out that south side order. Those men acted on their own backs. You’re talking to the person who personally executed those men for what they did that day. We don’t want a war, princesa. We want to protect our own. Our people. This city.”

“So patriotic,” you smirked, rolling your eyes. “I almost believe you.”

She walked over to you, leaning down until her face was inches from yours. “You should believe me. I’m the one person here who can get you out alive.”

You leaned closer, a certain fire in your eyes that she liked. “I want my men alive. If I give you the location of my shipment, then that’s all you take. If I hear whispers that you’ve taken out any of my men, I’ll come back here and rain hellfire down on you, I can fucking promise you that.”

She chuckled slightly, surprising you. “Even held captive, you show no fear. I like you. I give you my word that none of your men will be injured.”

“Your word means nothing to me,” you said, cocking your head to the side. “I want your boss’ word.”

“My boss?”

“El Sin Nombre. I want his word.”

She smiled, nodding once. “What makes you think he’s a man?” She asked quietly, and it sent sparks flying in your brain. You’d been told that the boss was a man. Dangerous and vicious. But a woman? That felt even scarier to you. “My word is just as good as El Sin Nombre’s, I promise.”

You contemplated for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Just in case your word isn’t as good as you say. I want to know the name of the woman who I’ll be coming back for to hold responsible.”

The woman stood up straight, but her hand drifted to your jaw, holding it tightly and tilting your face up to look at her. “Valeria. You call me Valeria.”

With her other hand she reached into her back pocket, a shimmer catching the light and you saw it was a knife in her hand. Valeria leaned over you, the knife drifting along your arm until it snagged suddenly, loosening the rope around your wrists, allowing blood to flow. “Follow me.” Valeria turned and opened the door to the small room, motioning for you to head through.

The map stretched across the entire expanse of the table, the whole of Las Almas territory and its neighbouring cities plastered on the paper. You leaned over it, eyes casting a glance over where your base camp was, where your safehouses were. From their notes, they were nowhere near your men. It made you smile.

“So?” Valeria sat in a chair, leaning back on two wooden legs as her feet were kicked up onto the table. “The shipment. Where can we find it.” You glanced at her before looking back to the map. Taking a pen from the table, you circled an area on the map, out in the middle of the desert. From a glance, you wouldn’t think anything was even out there.

“You can find your shipment here. I have men on patrol in this area twenty-four-seven. So I expect to be able to contact them ahead of time so you don’t break out into a fucking bloodbath for no reason,” you asserted, tossing the pen back onto the table. Valeria smirked, standing up from where she was sat, marching over to you.

“Princesa, you’re not in a position to be making demands, okay?”

“I’m not your princesa.”

“Well, you won’t give me a name so you can deal with the name I give you. Besides,” her hand brushes away stray hairs on your cheek. “I like seeing the red in your cheeks when I call you it.”

You avoided eye contact, looking at the table, but she grabbed your face, her fingers digging into your cheeks as she forced you to look back at her. “Don’t be going all shy on me now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said through gritted teeth. You had felt heat on your cheeks every time she called you princesa. But you didn’t think she could actually see anything.

“You know, if you weren’t so hostile, we’d actually make a pretty good team. I like having something pretty to look at when I’m working,” she raised her eyebrows as your eyes met hers. “You don’t have to act so big and mighty around me. I’m not that scary.”

You laughed, your hand pulling her wrist away from your face, keeping a firm grip on it. “You act as though I’m scared of you. I can assure you, you don’t scare me.”

She hummed, turning the tables and grabbing your wrists in her hands instead, pushing you against the table. “I know. I like it. You got a fire in you, honey. I’m starting to like your company more and more every passing second.” She smiled, leaning in until her lips grazed your ear, her body pressed against yours. “Perhaps you should stay a little longer in ym compound.”

Your body was telling you to react in a different way to what your brain was screaming at you. You honestly didn’t know what to do. This interrogation had certainly gone down a different path than what you expected. “And why would I do that, Valeria?” From the past few months where you had challenged her men, challenged her, gotten up in her face about how she was ruining Las Almas and causing more problems than solving them, you’d never actually been this close. Nor had you ever felt so vulnerable in her presence.

“We’ve been dancing around each other for months. We’ve been at each other’s throats, fought on opposite sides. But there’s one thing you can’t deny,” she smiled against your ear as your breathing halted in your throat.

“And what’s that?” you asked, only able to muster it up in a whisper.

“That you like it. You like the confrontation between us. I’ve seen the way you look when I put you in your place.” She had you. The second she heard your breathing labour she knew she fucking had you.

You turned your face towards hers slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her teeth nipped your earlobe, trailing towards your neck.

“Hmm. You sure?” She coaxed, feeling your pulse quicken against her lips. “Because your body is telling me something else entirely.” her face came up to meet yours. She stood a little taller than you were, and the ends other hair tickled your cheeks. “Tell me I’m wrong. But don’t lie to my face in my own office.”

You couldn’t say anything. Saying no would be a lie in itself. Your lips parted slightly but no words came out. She smiled, her face inching closer to yours. “That’s what I thought.” Her lips found yours. Softly, but firmly slotting against yours in a kiss. Her body pressed against you felt her tongue part your lips further, exploring your mouth deftly. Valeria’s grip loosened around your wrists and moved to your waist, her fingers ghosting over your bare skin as your shirt lifted. You could have pulled away. You could have stopped this. But you didn’t want to. This already felt too good.

Valeria felt your hands come up to cup her cheeks, and she smiled into the kiss, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth. Your fingers drifted to her neck, pulling her impossibly closer to you. Her lips found your neck, sucking at the soft skin over your pulse. You couldn’t hide the small gasp that escaped your throat, making her chuckle softly. Not in a demeaning way. She liked that she made you feel good.

But her touch disappeared just as quickly as it came. She walked backwards, back to the couch opposite the desk, her fingers making quick work of the belt around her waist, letting it drop to the floor as she unbuckled it, pulling it through the loops. She kicked her boots off, nudging them to the side as she walked. “Still regretting staying?” She asked coyly, sitting in the chair, leaning back and spreading her legs.

“Not yet,” you replied, still leaning against the table.

“Then come here, princesa. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Slowly, you made your way over to the couch. She smiled up at you, one eyebrow cocked. You took the opportunity to lower yourself to your knees, knowing exactly what she wanted. You wanted it too. Your hands ghosted up her thighs as you leaned up to her. Your fingers unzipped her pants, pulling them down her legs as you found her lips with yours once more. Her skin was warm, like fire against your fingertips. Your mouth made its way south and you started at her knee, kissing softly at her skin until you made your way to her inner thigh.

Valeria watched you, looking down at you as your head inched closer to exactly where she wanted you. She lifted one leg over the arm of the sofa and let her head fall back as you pulled her underwear aside, gently ghosting your lips over her cunt.

You wasted no time, diving into her pussy, licking a stripe through her folds. She moaned softly, her hand finding your hair, pushing you closer to her cunt as you fucked her with your tongue. Valeria felt your finger glide up her cunt, dipping gently into her. You were teasing. She was having none of it.

“Keep fucking around and you will not like the punishment I give you, honey,” she said, her words like ice on her tongue. You pushed your finger deep inside, your tongue finding her clit, giving her the stimulation she needed. Lips closing around her clit, you sucked harshly at the sensitive little bud, your teeth grazing gently over it.

Her grip was so tight in your hair as she kept your head between your thighs, you wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised your scalp by morning. But you didn’t care. Your free hand wrapped around her thigh where her leg rested beside you, and you pulled it over your shoulder, caging yourself between her grip. She felt your fingers dig painfully into the supple flesh of her thigh, it made her gasp out into the otherwise empty room.

You added a second finger to the crevice of her cunt, and then a third. Valeria tensed around you as she felt your fingers curl against something devastating inside her. “Shit, princesa. You’re better than I-” her sudden moan cut off her sentence as your fingers quickened, thrusting deep and harshly inside her. You felt her thigh close around your head, her hand keeping a firm grip on your head as her quick breaths signalled her high coming to a peak. “Come on, honey. Make me cum. I know you can.”

Withone final thrust of your fingers, and the undying attention you gave to her clit, she felt her orgasm wash over her, her mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back as she came on your fingers.

Her fingers released her grip on your hair as she came down from her high. You stayed between her thighs, keeping her legs pushed widely apart as you cleaned the mess between her thighs.

Valeria’s breathing slowed and became steadier as her muscles relaxed. Once you were satisfied, you looked up at her with glazed eyes. Her expression matched yours. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils blown. “Atta girl,” she smiled, patting her bare thigh. You pushed yourself off her knees and stepped between her legs, but her foot pressed against your thigh as she cocked her head at you. “Take them off,” she gestured to your pants.

You rolled your eyes, smirking, but entirely compliant to her orders. Your shoes were kicked to the side, your pants on the floor within seconds, and you moved back towards her. But her foot came up against your thigh once more. “Take. Them. Off.” There was no room in negotiation in her voice, her tone was stern and cold. It sent a tingle down your spine.

Underwear hit the floor and you felt bare in front of her. Your shirt was just long enough to cover your ass, but not long enough to be able to leave it to the imagination. Her finger coaxed you closer to her and you moved to stand between her legs once again.

Valeria’s hands drifted up your thighs, gently pulling you onto her lap and her lips melted against yours, her kisses deep, rough, needy. She shifted your body so you were seated on her thigh, your cunt resting on the muscle beneath her skin. “Your turn now,” she whispered, her accent thick and heavy in her words.

Her hands cupped your ass, dragging your hips along her thigh. Your clit rubbed against her skin in such a perfect way with each roll of your hips. Soft gasps accumulated in your throat as she guided you where you sat, straddling her. “Such pretty noises, princesa,” she smiled up at you, her hands drifting upwards as your body moved on its own, wanting to reach its own high. Valeria pushed the shirt up over your head, tossing it over your head where it landed clumsily on the table. Her lips found your breasts, kissing and sucking at the sensitive flesh, your nipples gently grazed with her teeth.

The stimulation was turning you on even more, every part of your body receiving the attention it needed to draw your orgasm even closer. But it never felt enough. Just constantly on the cusp, never teetering over the edge. Valeria could see it in your eyes.

“Need a little more, honey?” Her tone sounded mocking, but you were so close that you didn’t even care. You just went along with it. You liked this side of her. “Aw pretty girl. I got you.” Her hands grabbed your ass again, slapping your ass cheek harshly as she hoisted you up onto your knees. One hand stayed on your ass, the other reaching in front of her to play between your thighs. She was less gentle than you were with her earlier, her fingers thrusting deep into your cunt without warning. But it was what you needed. You moaned and tilted your head back, your fingers digging into her shoulders, nails carving lines into her skin.

She moved at such a speed, the noises coming from your soaked pussy filling the room with its obscene sounds. Her thumb pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing tight circles against it until you felt your core clench and your thighs tense around her own.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you cried out. Valeria looked up at you, seeing the way your eyes crinkled shut, how you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Say please,” she whispered, her ministrations slowing and your coming high fading. “Beg me for it.”

You had no shame as you made eye contact with her, begging and pleading to reach your orgasm. She just smiled, knowing the control she had over you right in this moment. Your orgasm hit you hard, and you buried your face in her neck, her skin between your teeth as you came. She hissed at the pain, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d expected. She rather enjoyed it.

Breathing some air into your lungs, your body finally started to relax, and your walls unclenched around her fingers, but she didn’t take them out. Not yet, anyway. Your juices soaked her fingers, dripping out to coat her hand, but Valeria didn’t mind.

A few minutes passed before either of you spoke. You leaned back, your face close to hers and she leaned up and kissed you softly.

“Perhaps you should call your team, let them know what’s going on,” Valeria smiled, the whole reason you were in this compound now coming back to her. You returned her smile, chuckling softly, pecking her lips once more.

“Yeah probably. Did you okay it with your boss, I assume?” You questioned, cocking your head. You realised she hadn’t left your side since the interrogation, she hadn’t had the time to discuss it with the boss.

But Valeria just laughed, her whole body shaking as she chuckled. “Oh, honey. There is no boss to go talk to.” Your expression screamed confusion, and it just made her smile and shake her head. She patted your ass as she leaned back against the couch. “You just fucked El Sin Nombre and got on your knees for her, which was so hot, by the way. I call the shots around here.”

Stunned. Shocked. It was the only way to explain how you felt right now. You were bare ass naked in the lap of a notorious cartel leader. “You’re serious?”

Valeria nodded in response, a smile playing at her lips.

“So call your boys and let them know. I’ll send my men to retrieve my resources. And who knows,” she tilted her head up, lips ghosting over yours. “This could be the start of a beautiful business partnership.”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x you #valeria garza smut #cod smut #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2

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marvelobsessed134 · 1 year ago

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I wanna start writing for Kelly Nickels cause that man is foineeee

#la guns #la guns x reader #la guns smut #kelly nickels #kelly nickels x reader #kelly nickels smut

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okiedokrie · 2 months ago

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All Is Fair In Love And War (TEASER)

Summary: Joshua is nothing if not determined. If he wants something, he'll get it; not that he even had to try before. But sometimes, like Icarus, he flies a little too close to the sun. But hey, all is fair in love and war!

Characters/Pairing: Aphrodite Incarnation!Joshua x Fem!Detective!Very Mortal!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, crack, angst if you really squint

AUs/Trope Info: Greek God!AU, Partners In Solving Crimes, Strangers to Lovers, "time isnt linear" trope, "holy shit im kind of obsessed with you" trope

Word Count: 900+ for the teaser, est. 10k≤ for the full fic

Warnings: Depiction of a crime scene (gore, blood, gun, conspiracy), depiction of drug use, character death (major and minor), smut warnings under the cut when full fic is uploaded

Rating: 18+

A/N: This is part of the The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions! This is just the teaser, so if you enjoy it, please consider signing up for the taglist. Thank you!!

In the summer of 2000, Joshua Hong was almost five years old. People always commented on how pretty he was for a kid, that he’d surely grow up to be a very handsome man.

Which is why it was a tragedy when he died from a freak truck accident.

Yes, Joshua Hong died at the age of five. For like, 10 minutes.

The doctors called it a miracle - a small child should not have survived a whole six of the twelve truck wheels, but somehow he was resuscitated, much to his parents’ delight.

This incident caused two things to change dramatically - Californetherlands now has stricter trucking laws and Joshua woke up to memories of literally being Aphrodite.

Throughout the years, from that fateful summer day to the present day, Joshua flopped back and forth between believing that the memories were just fever dreams and genuinely considering that he may be a reincarnation of the goddess. But ever since he got to hone his powers, he’s been more inclined to believe the latter.

By the age of 28, he has mastered the art of seduction. No, not sleeping with people constantly. It was more so the art of getting people to say ‘yes’ to everything he asked of them.

This made Joshua a very powerful and influential figure in Los Amsterdam; You see, the way he dealt wasn’t by out-witting people or being richer than them. He dealt in favors. If you wanted to be a popstar, he’d introduce you to a famous producer, and get you a record deal that would solidify your career - all for the low, low price of free.

In turn, you’d owe him, like the many powerful people who owed him large favors.

Joshua found himself in downtown LA, in the club that he owned, just under his penthouse. He enjoyed playing the guitar and performing for his patrons, everyone seemingly captivated by his voice, or his beauty, whichever one caught their attention first. He finally strummed the last chord of his song, enjoying the applause of the crowd as the DJ started to play the usual club music. Just as he was about to retreat to the bar, a feminine voice stopped him.

“Joshua! Hey!” She said, hair bouncing over her new fur coat, jumping excitedly, calling him over.

Joshua smiled widely at her - she was one of the people he had helped start her career as a singer. He didn’t do much other than introduce her to the CEO of her current label, it was her natural talent that got her this far.

“Ah, Diana, good to see you!” He said, going over to meet her in a friendly hug, the kind that didn’t touch at all. “How has being a singer treated you? Any good news?” He said, making small talk with an old acquaintance.

“Oh please,” she started, her new haughty attitude showing, “It’s all over the news! I just got nominated for a Grammy!” She said in a sing-song tone. Joshua just nodded Truth be told, he didn’t really have much interest in pop music, but he did try to match her enthusiasm.

“That’s great! I knew you’d make it big.” he said, remembering the first time she came to him, a girl in clothes that almost looked like rags, now decked out in every designer brand you could think of. “So, what brings you back here then? Surely you already have everything you ever wanted?” He said lightheartedly. Even if all of Joshua’s connections owed him favors, it was quite uncommon for them to come back to him after having achieved their dreams.

“Well,” She said, her old, meek bashfulness coming to the surface. “I just wanted to see you again, to thank you for what you have done for me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear. “And I know no matter what favor I do for you in return, I could never break even for just how much you’ve impacted my life. So, thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua genuinely felt relieved to hear her say that - usually, people’s pride and greed got in the way of them acknowledging those who truly helped them along the way, but as he suspected, this girl still had a soul so pure. “Let's get some drinks by the bar and chat some more, yeah? My treat.” He offered, which she gladly took, the conversation between them flowed naturally, Joshua enjoying her tales of success.

It was an hour after the club closed that Diana decided it was time to head home. Joshua offered to see her off, like the gentleman he was, and so they walked to the sidewalk, her hand around his arm.

Joshua opened the taxi door for her, offering her a few bills in cash to cover the fare, “It was nice seeing you again, hopefully, you’ll make time to catch up with me in the future.” he said through the taxi window.

“Yeah, I hope I get the chance to see you again soon. Goodnight Joshua.” She said as she rolled up the taxi window.

Joshua watched the taxi drive until the end of the block, everything seemingly going smoothly, up until another car intercepted hers in the intersection.

It happened so quickly, too quickly for Joshua to even register the new car’s window sliding down, holding a gun out to the taxi Diana was in. Gunshots echoed through the street, the sound of tires popping and glass shattering but all Joshua could make out was the sound of two sets of four tires screeching against the concrete. Diana’s taxi collided with a nearby lamppost, the taxi flattening and curling around it.

That was the last time Joshua saw her alive.

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haywire-hetfield · 8 months ago

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Two Lovers Entwined

Ship: Phil Lewis x Brent Muscat

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Drunk sex, non-penetrative sex, grinding, handjobs, blow jobs.

Words: 1,458

“You're so pretty,” Phil said, echoing the same words he'd uttered at least six other times already. Each moment, he'd had the same bright smile on his face and he'd obviously meant it just as much.

He was very clearly drunk, face flushed and eyes glassy as he looked at Brent. His hair was a mess and he'd lost his bandana somewhere along the way, dark strands falling into his face.

“You're so pretty,” Brent retorted, smiling back and reaching out to push hair away from his face. Phil leaned into his hand, nearly falling over onto him. He laughed at his own lack of coordination and Brent shook his head fondly. “So pretty,” He repeated.

And it was true. Phil was pretty in the same way a lot of rock stars were. He was tall and lithe, lovely dark hair framed features that were just soft enough to be seen as feminine. Brent liked his eyes and smile the best, though.

“If I'm so pretty then why am I not in your bed yet?” Phil asked, catching Brent a bit off guard. The sudden bluntness of the question made him laugh.

“Aren't you at least going to pretend you're interested in the movie?” He hummed and Phil shook his head, leaning in for a kiss. Brent was smiling as he kissed him back for a moment, finally pushing him away. “Upstairs,” He told him.

Phil was kissing him the second they were inside Brent's room, pushing close to his body. His hands wandered across Brent's body, groping at everything he could reach. He'd always been handsy and it only got worse when he'd been drinking.

He licked deeper into Brent's mouth, squeezing a bit too roughly at his ass. It earned a sharp noise from Brent, making him squirm around. He'd never minded it when Phil held onto him too hard, though.

“Clothes off,” Brent murmured once he pulled away from the kiss. It wasn't the smoothest he'd ever been, but it did make Phil laugh and strip off his shirt. He gave a playful wiggle as Brent stared at his chest. “You're such an idiot,” He laughed and began getting his own clothes off.

They were both shaky from how much they had to drink, but miraculously, neither had tipped over. It took too long to get everything off, yet they managed and finally made it to the bed.

Brent whined when Phil got a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly. It was firm enough, but not quick enough for him. And he had a feeling Phil was purposely teasing him. A smaller kiss was pressed to his lips and Phil pulled his hand away just as soon as Brent was fully hard.

“Don't stop,” Brent complained to him, but Phil didn't resume his motions. Instead, he climbed on top of Brent and lined them up so they were rocking against one another. “Fuck,” He breathed out, enjoying the slick slide against Phil's stomach. They kissed again, deeper this time around and Brent didn't know which feeling to focus more on.

He whined when Phil bit his lip, being too rough with him again, but he didn't mind it. Phil laughed against him, having to break away from the kiss.

“Sorry, baby. Did that hurt?” Phil asked, only sounding partially apologetic. His lips didn't stop rocking into him, off rhythm from how drunk he was. Brent shook his head, smiling at the question.

“Only a little,” He assured him and Phil nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. He moved his head closer to Brent, resting his chin on his shoulder.

Now that he was this close, Brent could hear how rough his breathing had gotten. He already sounded so desperate and Brent considered teasing him, making him stop and wait to come. Ultimately, he decided not to be that cruel this time. His fingers slid into Phil's hair, petting through it and admiring how soft it was.

“That feels so good,” Brent praised after a moment, humming as Phil rocked against him harder. Apparently, he was quite fond of being praised. Brent's fingers kept pushing through his hair, careful whenever he hit a knot. “Just like that. Keep going,” Brent knew his own voice sounded breathless by now, but at this point, neither of them cared.

“You feel good too, baby. Gonna make me come,” Phil warned, movements growing faster and more erratic. Brent chuckled at the way he spoke, strained and needy. “Tighten your hips around me,” He encouraged and Brent complied, shifting to wrap his legs around Phil, tugging him closer.

The new position forced them impossibly close, no space at all between their bodies now. Phil's breathing hitched sharply and it wasn't difficult to understand why. It felt far more intense, the friction increased almost to the point of it being overwhelming.

“Fuck yeah. Much better,” Phil encouraged, panting into his shoulder. Fingers tightened into Phil's hair, holding him a bit firmer.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Brent asked, wanting to sound more put together than he did. His words were a bit choked out, but Phil still gave a noise of affirmation. “Good boy. Come for me then,” Despite being shaky at best, Brent's words had their intended effect.

Phil whined low in his throat and a handful of thrusts later, Phil let out a soft moan and his hips stilled. Brent could feel him spilling hot and wet across his stomach. He couldn't see Phil's face, but they'd done this enough times that he knew it by heart.

He knew the way his eyes closed tightly and how his nose wrinkled up. The fact his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, but it still wasn't enough to stifle his usually quiet moan which was louder due to how drunk he was.

“My good boy,” Brent murmured, relaxing his hand to once again just petting his hair. He held him until he composed himself again, ignoring his own needs for a bit. He didn't mind the delay which was surprising. He'd always been less patient when he'd been drinking, but it was very easy to be patient with Phil.

“I am your good boy, aren't I?” Phil smirked once he'd relaxed a bit, pulling away enough that they weren't pressed completely together. “Your turn,” He murmured, hair messy. Brent nodded and smirked back, resisting the urge to fix his hair for him.

“Be my guest,” Brent said, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of Phil's come beginning to cool on his stomach.

Brent groaned when Phil's hand wrapped around his cock for the second time tonight. Normally, Brent didn't really care for handjobs, but he loved anything he did with Phil. Even with him being a bit uncoordinated. His hand found an unsteady pace, but it was one that worked for Brent.

“Get me wet,” Brent murmured and he expected Phil to just spit into his hand. Directly on his cock maybe. What he didn't expect was Phil moving down the bed and slipping him into his mouth instead. “Oh, fuck yes. Perfect,” He sounded broken already, but he thought anyone would in his position.

Phil didn't take much into his mouth, only a bit more than the head. He didn't need to, though. It was making Brent squirm and gasp, trying not to buck into his mouth.

Even as drunk as he was, he was still unbelievable at giving head. He lapped at the slit roughly, swallowing whenever too much precome and saliva would pool up in his mouth. Brent twitched every time, enjoying the feeling.

“I'm going to come,” Brent told him, giving him a heads up so he could pull off if he wanted to. Phil only kept going, doubling his efforts if anything. “Good boy. Take it,” He encouraged and Phil bummed around him.

He did buck his hips this time, despite his best efforts not to. It just felt too good to avoid it. Phil swallowed around him and it was all too much. He groaned sharply and came, stomach tightening almost painfully as he spilled inside of his mouth.

Phil stayed there, only pulling off his cock once he was obviously done. Once he did, he spit all of Brent's come onto his stomach.

“Phil!” Brent scolded, although he was giggling the entire time. He shifted and realized too late that it just led to a mess on the bed sheets. Phil was grinning up at him. “That's so gross.”

“How?” Phil laughed, moving up the bed to lay down with him. “It was gonna end up there if I didn't swallow it anyway,” He pointed out and Brent huffed. He didn't know a good defense for that, but he did know he needed a shower.

#rpf #smut #nsft #phil lewis x brent muscat #brent muscat x phil lewis #faster pussycat #brent muscat #la guns #phil lewis

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hearts4golbach · 10 months ago

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Hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff to smut? 🙏🏼

Blushed.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Authors note: I have seen this idea used a few times on tumblr from a few different people, so this is unoriginal, but I've really wanted to write this.

warning: smut.

"What's up guys, welcome back to my channel!" I hollered, imitating certain YouTubers. I had always found intros to be hilarious. "Today, I'm with my boyfriend, Johnnie Guilbert." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to be making him normal."

Johnnie rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yippee. I'm being tortured." he made jazz hands.

I covered his mouth quickly, attempting to act suspiciously. "This was his idea.. anyway!" I pushed him so he was sitting on my bed. I pulled the first product out of my makeup bag. "This is primer, which you know about, obviously. so there's nothing new there."

I stood in between his legs and began to apply the primer, smearing it all over his face. he gripped my waist softly, looking up at me with a sweet smile. I glanced away, trying not to get too worked up over a simple gesture. I smiled to myself and finished rubbing it all in.

"Great!" I said sarcastically, moving so the camera could see. "shit, I have to pin up your bangs." I grabbed two clips from my dresser. I parted his hair in the middle, clipping his midnight black hair on either side of his face.

he slapped his hand over his forehead, "Not the six head." he snorted before removing his hand.

"You do not have a six head," I rolled my eyes, placing a kiss on his forehead before moving on. I pulled the next product out of the bag. "Funny story, I had to go out and buy Johnnie a whole different foundation because he's too pale for mine."

Johnnie made a finger gun, pointing it at the camera and sticking his tongue out with a laugh. "it's because all I do is play fortnite." he smirked.

"I know." I retorted as I wet my beauty blender. I placed dots of foundation around his face, fighting the urge to kiss him as I did so. "Okay, cute! perfect shade match." I moved put of the cameras view.

Johnnie checked himself out in the mirror, raising and dropping his eyebrows. "Uncanny Valley."

"Okay, well, I've barely done anything yet, so.." I trailed off, digging through the bag. "Next, concealer. Which, you also know of because I'm sure you go through a lot of it." I teased, tapping his nose before standing in front of him again.

his hands made their way to my waist as I focused on putting the liquid in the right place to highlight his face. he slowly moved his hands down, so they were on my ass.

"johnnie!" I scolded, "im going to have to edit that out."

he smirked, laughing at my comment. "I'd leave it in."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." I retorted, going back to blending the concealer.

he had moved his hands back up, and now they were on my hips. his thumbs rubbed circles into my skin, making me shiver under his touch. I cleared my throat awkwardly as he laughed under his breath at my reaction.

I pulled away, revealing his face to the camera. I tapped his cheeks before moving on. "Next, we have blush, contour, and bronzer." I picked up the 3 products, showing the camera.

I began working on his face once more as he hummed, I wasn't sure what song. I stuck my finger under his chin, "Look up at me." he did as told, gazing into my eyes. "Thank you, baby." I smiled before getting to work on his contour. his cheekbones contoured nicely, making me grow more eager for him by the second.

I turned around, clearly distracted. "uh, next step." I stuttered, reaching into the bag. "highlighter."

my brush grazed over his cheeks and nose before gently tapping the inner corner of his eyes. "ah! my eye clit!" johnnie blinked rapidly.

"oh my god." I rolled my eyes, "okay, the last couple steps are mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow."

using a light pink eyeshadow, I colored in Johnnie's eyelids. I did a small wing before curling his lashed and putting mascara on them.

"what if I put lashes on you?" I pondered, putting up the mascara.

"oh, god." he replied dreadfully. "can I see myself now?"

I sighed before grinning at him. "I guess." I handed him a mirror and impatiently waited for his reaction.

"damn, would I fuck myself?" he pondered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, its how I do my makeup every day so..." I joked. "wait! I forgot your lipstick, how could I be so stupid?" I pulled out a musty pink lipstick and quickly applied it. "okay, now youre done."

I recorded my outro, desperate to shut the damn camera off. after turning it off, I grabbed the makeup wipes.

"you ready to take it off?" I asked him.

he eagerly nodded. "yes, please."

I climbed into his lap, "you did so good, thank you for recording that with me."

he hummed at the praise, I felt his member grow slightly under me. "anytime." his hands moved down to my ass once more, gently squeezing.

I bucked into him, trying not to make any noises as I wiped off the rest of the makeup. "shit, johnnie."

he smirked and kissed me softly, his hands moving down my thighs. I leaned into the kiss. Johnnie's hand made its way up my shirt, gently massaging my boob while the other kneaded my inner thigh. "you're such a tease." he whispered onto my lips.

I hummed in response. he quietly groaned into the kiss, his body pressed against mine. my hands flew up to his head, getting tangled in his hair. I began to deepen the kiss, wanting more. I moaned quietly, making his hips roll up against me. "God, you're so hot." I say breathlessly before smashing my lips onto his.

his tongue danced with mine as his hands explored my body. "you're killing me, I need you. now." he said desperately.

I nodded eagerly, "please, johnnie." I pleaded, moaning as he began kissing down my neck.

he trailed kisses along my collar bone, nipping and sucking at the tender skin. he left light hickeys all over, groaning into my skin. "I'm so crazy for you."

"johnnie, i-" I was cut off by a moan as he went back to attacking my neck.

I felt him smirk against my skin. "I love it when you say my name like that." I felt his erection pressed against my clothed pussy. "lay down for me, babe."

I did as told, crawling off his lap and laying back on the bed. he slipped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra as he kissed down my stomach. I wiggled under his touch, wanting more. he undid my jeans and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. he kicked off his own pants and shirt aswell, leaving both of us in our underwear. I bit my lip, moaning softly at the sight of his erection.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered, tucking my hair out of my face before kissing me again. "you ready?"

I nodded eagerly. "please, johnnie. I need you so bad." I whimpered as he positioned himself between my legs.

"tell me what you need, baby." he whispered, lust burning in his eyes. I tried to pull him closer, but he pulled away. "use your words."

"fuck, I want your cock, johnnie." I whimpered.

"atta girl." he smirked, pulling my panties off and tossing them along with my jeans. "Jesus, you're so beautiful."

I moaned quietly as he nibbled at my neck. I clawed at his back, pulling him closer. "stop teasing." I pleaded.

he nodded, listening to my request. I felt his hard tip press against my entrance. he slowly pushed inside of me, groaning at the feeling of filling me up. "so fucking tight." he muttered.

"oh my god, yes." I moan quietly.

johnnie groaned, pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I gasped as he began to thrust slowly, making my walls grip tightly around him. "God, I love the pretty sounds you make."

his words made my jaw fall, letting a low moan escape. he picked up his speed, his hips slapping against my wetness as he thrusted deeper. "jesus- oh, shit." I stuttered.

johnnie groaned, rolling his eyes back as he lost himself in pleasure. "oh, fuck- thats it. give it to me."

"keep going, oh shit!" I moaned into his neck. he moved sweaty hair out of my face before kissing me roughly.

his thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slammed against mine as he took me roughly. "fuck, you're amazing." he whimpered onto my lips.

"fuck, give it to me, baby." I moaned, digging my hands into his back. he growled softly as he pushed deeper inside of me, pausing for a moment before pulling out and slamming back into me.

his thrusts became ever more forceful, his cock hitting my cervix with each powerful thrust. "does this feel good, baby? fuck, you're so good." he kissed my neck.

"yes, o-oh my god, yes. don't stop. i-im close!" I panted.

his thrusts became more erratic, his hips slapping into me one last time before he released inside of me. I came along with him, my orgasm rushing through my whole body. I went limp, watching as he collapsed next to me.

"Oh my god." he whispered, kissing me softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you more."

#fanfiction #fanfic #smut #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert

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coffeeshades · 2 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART X

—lay all your love on me

summary: two idiots who got their shit together and now love each other unconditionally.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). lots of smut, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of fluff, cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, dual pov so watch out for that, and reminding everyone this is a work of fiction so just sit back and relax and enjoy! but if this isn't your thing, move along :)

masterlist!

February 25, 2023

London, England

London felt different this time. The city hummed with its usual, muted energy—the overcast sky casting everything in a soft, diffuse light—but for you and Pedro, it was like being in your own world, hidden in plain sight. The press tour for The Mandalorian had begun, but this time things had shifted. You were together now, and the stolen glances, soft touches, and subtle smiles painted your days in colors no one else could see.

Five days of interviews and cameras, but you didn’t waste a minute when you were alone. London became your playground, with dinners tucked away in quiet corners and late-night walks along the Thames. Photos of the two of you surfaced online, of course—your laughter caught mid-frame as you leaned into him outside a restaurant, Pedro’s arm draped casually over your shoulders—but to the world, you were still just friends.

There was an unspoken ease, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. It was in the way Pedro’s hand would brush against yours when no one was looking and how you’d catch him staring at you with that quiet, knowing smile that made your heart do somersaults.

One interviewer joked about Pedro’s tendency to play father figures on screen. "It’s funny," they said, "you keep playing these fatherly roles. What’s the draw?"

Pedro chuckled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing at you before answering. He wasn’t just answering the question—he was letting everyone into his head, just for a moment. "I like the idea of it," he said, his voice mellow and thoughtful. "Being able to imagine that responsibility, that kind of love. It’s... comforting."

You nudged him playfully, lighting up the moment with a grin. "Comforting, huh?" you teased, leaning in. "You’re really gunning for that ‘World’s Coolest Dad’ mug, aren’t ya?"

He chuckled again, the sound low and amused. "Oh, absolutely," he replied, mock serious. "But, let’s be real—I’m already cool dad material. Look at me." He spread his arms like he was showing off some award-worthy masterpiece.

You shifted on your seat, eyebrow raised, and whispered, “Honey, they want you to be the daddy, not the dad.”

Pedro froze for a split second before bursting into laughter, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made your stomach flip. "Touché," he said, still laughing. "I’m multi-talented, I can be both."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get you the mug.”

The room erupted in laughter, and the easy banter between you two was back, but there was a difference now. Every joke, every shared smile held a layer of intimacy that no one else could decipher.

March 14, 2023

Los Angeles, CA

The night was electric, as it always was, a celebration of film and glamour.

Pedro looked gorgeous in his black Zegna suit, the sharp lines contrasting with the softness of his hair, longer than usual, curling slightly at his collar. His face lit up in that way you loved, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he smiled. You, too, had dressed for the occasion in a stunning black Oscar de la Renta gown, the fabric hugging your body like a second skin. But it wasn’t the dress or the cameras that made you feel beautiful—it was the way Pedro looked at you from across the room. He looks at you, not at anyone else. It feels very nice when he looks at you. It's grounding.

You arrived separately. The decision had been mutual—to keep your relationship private for just a little longer. Inside the Dolby Theatre, you texted each other relentlessly, your phone lighting up every few minutes.

Pedro: You look unreal.

You glanced across the room and spotted him, his eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the room worth watching.

You: Have you seen yourself? Ridiculous.

You watched him bite back a smile. You knew what he was thinking, that playful look he got when he was trying to be serious but couldn't quite manage it around you.

Pedro: Wanna trade seats?

You glanced over at your seating arrangements, aware that the cameras were everywhere. It was almost torturous not to be able to sit next to him, to lean into his side and steal private moments.

You: Don’t tempt me.

He raised an eyebrow from across the room, his smile lazy but full of warmth. You could practically hear him saying, "Try me," without even needing the words.

At one point, your phone buzzed again.

Pedro: I think the guy next to me just tried to flirt with me.

You: Well, tell him he’s got competition.

Pedro: Should I let him down easy?

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head and glancing toward the stage.

You: Maybe let him sweat it out first.

The night wore on, and he presented an award with Lizzie Olsen, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him—his smile, the way he owned the stage with that effortless charm. Every now and then, you’d steal moments—walking to each other’s seats under the guise of casual conversation—but there was thrill in the secrecy. It was fun, this private world you shared, just for the two of you.

Later, during one of the commercial breaks, the both of you managed to slip away backstage, away from the sea of people. The hustle and bustle of the theater seemed to fade as you both found a semi-dark corner. The dim light cast shadows on the walls, but all you could see was him—the soft smile on his lips, the playful glint in his eyes.

Pedro wasted no time. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close until there was barely any space between you. His scent, familiar and warm, wrapped around you as he leaned down, stealing a kiss from your lips. It was quick but full of tenderness, his lips brushing against yours as if he couldn’t help himself.

You laughed softly, half-heartedly trying to push him away, knowing you had only a few minutes before you’d be called on stage to present the next award. “Pedro, stop,” you whispered, your hands gently resting on his chest. “We only have a few minutes, and I have to go soon. They’ll call me any second.”

But he wasn’t deterred. His lips found yours again, a bit more insistent this time, kissing you deeply before pulling back just enough to breathe. “A few minutes of you,” he said in a low, almost reverent voice, “would be enough to keep me going for years.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, the world outside your little bubble disappearing as his thumb grazed your cheek. You tilted your head up, your lips brushing his once more, a tender kiss that lingered just long enough to make you want more. His hand rested on the small of your back, the heat of his touch soothing you in the moment.

“You’re making this really hard, you know?” you teased softly, your voice breathless.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your chest as his forehead rested against yours. “Good,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your lips. “Let them call you. I’m not letting you go until the last second.”

You smiled, leaning into him, allowing yourself just a few more stolen seconds. His lips found your temple, a soft, lingering kiss, as if trying to memorize the feel of you before the moment passed. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of him, the safety of his arms around you.

Then, reluctantly, you heard the distant call of your name from the stage manager. Pedro sighed, his hand slowly sliding away from your waist. “My time's up.”

You looked up at him, a dangerous grin spreading across your face. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “you'll get to have me for the rest of the night.”

March 31, 2023

Los Angeles, CA

By the time the PaleyFest rolled around, Pedro was already feeling the weight of keeping everything hidden. He wasn’t a man who liked to keep secrets—especially not something as big as you. You sat so close to him, so near yet so far, and it took everything in him not to reach out and show the world how much he loved you. Instead, he found himself compensating, channeling his feelings into every casual touch, every stolen glance that was meant for only you.

He showed up that night in a brown and beige cardigan, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders, paired with green pants and black Chelsea boots. You had told him once how much you liked them. His scruff had grown fuller, darker, and he knew you liked it like that. It drove him crazy when your fingers brushed against it, soft touches that sent flames all the way to his chest.

The night had gone by swiftly enough. Interviews, panels, the usual public-facing routine. Yet, every moment felt charged with the knowledge that you were there, just inches away. You were sitting beside him during the Q&A session, your knees touching. His hand would occasionally ghost over yours, brushing against your fingers, almost accidentally—except it wasn’t. Nothing about this was an accident. You were deliberate in everything you did, in the way you turned toward him, your laughter soft and quiet as if sharing a secret only he could understand.

It was maddening. Pedro was a good actor, but this was real life, and it was becoming harder to play the part of just colleagues, just friends. Every time you touched him, even in the smallest ways, he was reminded of how badly he wanted to kiss you right then and there. He had to keep his cool, though—keep things professional. But it was becoming impossible. You made it impossible.

The way you spoke during the panel, your voice warm and confident, filled with that easy charm that came so naturally to you—he was falling apart inside. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Every word out of your mouth felt like a temptation. Every soft glance in his direction was a tug on the string that bound his heart to yours.

God, you’re too much to be denied, he thought, his mind drifting as he watched you from the corner of his eye. He wanted to kiss you. Right there, in front of everyone. To hell with the secrecy. The privacy you two had was a blessing and a curse. It made loving you easier in some ways—no eyes watching, no prying questions. But it also made it sad, frustrating. All these private moments that he clung to—your stolen touches, your quiet words of affection—were everything to him. But there was a part of him that wanted more.

He sometimes forgot that you were supposed to be keeping things quiet. It just felt so natural to be near you, to let his hand graze yours, or to press his knee against yours while answering a question. Nobody saw a thing—or if they did, nobody said anything. It was amazing how invisible these touches of heaven were to everyone else, how easily they slipped under the radar.

As the panel went on, Pedro found himself drifting. His mind wasn’t in the questions or the answers—it was in the curve of your lips, the sound of your laughter, the way your leg brushed against his every time you shifted in your seat. You made it so easy to fall in love with you. Too easy.

When you turned to him, your eyes meeting his for just a split second longer than necessary, his mouth went dry. That quiet connection was enough to make him feel like he was losing his grip. He shifted in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest, trying to focus on the discussion at hand but finding it increasingly difficult with his pants growing tighter by the second.

He needed to have you.

Later, when the two of you made it back to the hotel, Pedro could barely keep himself together. The second the door clicked shut behind you, something in him snapped. He’d been holding back all night.

As soon as the door closed, his hands were on you—rough, needy, pulling you close like he’d been starving for you. Like a dog let off his leash. His fingers pressed into your hips, firm and demanding, and his mouth was on yours before you had time to take a breath. It wasn’t soft or gentle; it was raw, desperate. Slow, deep kisses like he’d been holding his breath the entire night, waiting for this moment when he could finally let it all out.

You barely made it to the couch before things escalated. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, his fingers slipping beneath your clothes, touching every inch of your skin like he needed it. Like he’d been deprived of you for days, even though it had only been hours since his hand had last grazed yours. His thumb brushed over your nipple through your shirt, and you gasped into his mouth, pushing your hips forward to meet his.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raspy, full of heat. It wasn’t a question. It was a realization that had his cock straining painfully against his pants, desperate to feel you.

His fingers slid between your legs, pressing against you through the fabric, and you moaned softly, your head falling back against the couch as he worked you open. Slick and warm, your body responded to him like it always did—eagerly, hungrily. His breath was hot against your neck as he kissed a line up your throat, whispering things only you were meant to hear.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he groaned, grinding his hips into the cushions beneath you. His cock was rock hard, desperate for any kind of friction, but he wasn’t ready to give in just yet. Not until he had you moaning his name like no one else could. “I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you like this…desperate for me.”

His fingers moved inside you with a kind of expertise that left you breathless, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to have you arching your back, gripping his arms for stability. He hopes you feel his frustration—his need to release everything he couldn’t show in public, the need to pour every unsaid word into this moment. He kissed you harder, devouring you, his body pressing you deeper into the couch as he gave in to the desperation that had been simmering beneath the surface.

You clung to him, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your fingers curling in his hair as he fucked you with his hand, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth was close to your ear, his words a hot, breathy confession. “I can’t stand it sometimes… being near you and not being able to touch you the way I want.”

You moaned. The sound—so deliciously wanton—spurred him on, his movements becoming more urgent and intense.

Pedro groaned, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and his beard scratching your skin as he thrust his fingers deeper. “I’m always desperate to make you feel good,” he murmured, his breath hitching with the intensity of it. He was grinding his cock into the couch, trying to find some kind of relief, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“Please, more,” you gasped, your voice trembling, your body tightening with the anticipation of release. Pedro could feel it, could hear it in the way your breath hitched, the way your hips moved against his hand.

Just when you were about to fall apart, his mouth was on yours again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, swallowing your moans as you came undone beneath him. Your body trembled in his arms, and he groaned, kissing you harder.

You were still coming down when he finally lifted you into his lap, pressing you against him, his cock straining beneath you. He knew you could feel it. He knew you wanted it just as badly as he did.

But then came the frustration, the gnawing ache. His hand moved to your cheek, cupping it as he kissed you softer this time, a contrast to the earlier desperation. “I think about kissing you so much,” he admitted, his voice low and husky as his fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Good thing you get to do it whenever you want now.”

Pedro’s lips hovered just above yours, his breath hot and ragged. “Well, not whenever I want,” he muttered, his voice low, almost hoarse, before he found your mouth again. His lips trailed along your jaw, slowly, torturously, until they grazed the corner of your mouth.

You laughed softly, the tension in the room shifting with your teasing tone. “Blessed be this tired conversation,” you murmured, your words brushing against his lips. “We agreed we’d wait, baby. It’s better this way.”

His forehead rested against yours, his warm breath mingling with your own as his fingers trailed down the side of your face. His eyes, heavy with love and frustration, bore into yours. “But I don’t want to anymore,” he confessed, his voice raw with need. His fingertips trailed down the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone, committing each detail of your skin to memory like it might be the last time he’d get to touch you like this.

You grinned, teasing him with that wicked smile of yours that made him feel both alive and tormented. “You could fuck me on the seven o’clock news, and they’d just say I was desperate for attention,” you said, laughing at your own joke. But Pedro couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his hand cupped your face with a tenderness that made him ache. “We’ll face it together,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice a promise. "Whatever they throw at us."

He didn’t know how, didn’t know when, but he knew that he was ready to take on whatever came next—so long as it meant he didn’t have to keep hiding you. Hiding us.

Before the moment could spiral into something heavier, before his thoughts took him down that path, Pedro kissed you again. Slower this time, more deliberate. Like he was trying to communicate with his lips what he couldn’t with words.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Your breath was hot against his mouth as you spoke between kisses. “I know it’s frustrating, but we have this, Pedro. We have us.”

The words cut through the noise in his head, grounding him. He groaned softly, his hands slipping lower, his grip tightening as if you might disappear. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” he said again, the need in his voice raw, his body already pressing closer to yours. He felt like he was on the verge of breaking.

He saw something flash in your eyes—desire, affection, understanding. “Then don’t,” you said, voice firm with want. A playful smirk tugged at your lips. “Now shut up and fuck me, lover boy.”

He smiled, and the last thread of his restraint snapped. His hands moved quickly, fingers pulling at your clothes in a frenzy, his breath coming faster as he discarded his own. The second your bare skin pressed against his, Pedro felt like he was drowning in the sensation of you. He’d wanted this—needed this—all day, maybe longer.

You sank down onto him slowly, and Pedro groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he felt you take him in. The heat of you, the slickness, made him curse under his breath. The stretch of you around him, the way you clenched at every inch, drove him wild.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rough with arousal. He could barely keep his thoughts straight; the sensation of being inside you was enough to make him lose his mind. The way you gasped, the way your body tightened around him, made him dizzy with want.

His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin as he slurred a curse, his body moving in sync with yours. You didn’t start slow. Neither of you had the patience for it. Your hips rolled against his with a roughness that made his cock throb inside you, and Pedro couldn’t hold back the way he groaned into your neck, his hands digging into your waist, guiding you harder, faster.

Each thrust felt like a confession, like he was pouring all the things he hadn't been able to say for months into the movement of your bodies.

Your mouth found his ear, and through the gasps and the heat, you whispered, “I love you.”

The words broke something inside him. Pedro’s hips stuttered, his body jerking as he pulled you closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck. His lips hovered near your ear, and he whispered back, voice trembling, “I know, baby.”

You moved faster, grinding down on him, the wet sounds of your bodies echoing in the room, and Pedro thought he might lose it. The way you felt—the way you looked—was too much, too perfect. He was on the verge, teetering at the edge, and he didn’t want it to end.

Not yet.

But your body tightened around him, and he felt you shudder as you came, the sound of your breathless cry sending him over the edge. Pedro groaned, his hips jerking hard as he came inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as his release hit him like a wave, leaving him breathless and shaking.

You pressed a soft kiss to his freckled shoulder, your voice light. “So… still frustrated?”

Pedro chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Not right now,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “but give me ten minutes, and I’ll probably be ready to go again.”

Your laughter filled the room, and for the first time all night, everything felt right.

Everything felt perfect.

•••

Several weeks had passed, and with them, the world had changed in quiet, insidious ways. Paparazzi photos had surfaced, capturing stolen moments and raising questions. The speculation had simmered, threatening to boil over. But this morning, when you woke up to the persistent buzz of your phone, the weight of those weeks hadn’t fully sunk in.

Your hand lazily reaches for his side of the bed, only to find it empty.

Still half asleep, you reached out for your phone, the screen blinding in the dim light of your room. As your eyes adjusted, you saw the thousands of messages, and a particular notification popped up—an Instagram post from Pedro. You blinked, and then opened it.

There they were, pictures of you, ones you hadn’t even realized he’d taken.

The first image was from one of your walks in London. You were bundled up in a thick scarf and coat, the fog of your breath visible in the cool air. Your hair was slightly tousled from the wind, cheeks flushed from the cold, and though you weren’t looking at the camera, you were looking at him, your smile soft, eyes alight with an easy, unguarded happiness. There was something about the way you looked at him in that picture—it was a look only he ever got to see.

Another photo showed you in a fit of laughter, your head thrown back, eyes scrunched shut, one hand covering your face as if trying to stifle the sound. It was blurry, like he’d caught you mid-movement, mid-moment. Completely unposed, completely you.

The next was a close-up, your hand stretched out toward him, your face only partially visible in the background, eyes shining, lips curved in a grin. You’d been reaching for his phone that day, playfully trying to snatch it from him, teasing him about taking too many pictures.

And then, a quieter one—an intimate photo of you curled up beside him on a couch, a book in hand, legs tucked beneath you. Your hair was untidy, and you weren’t paying attention to the world around you, just lost in your thoughts. The soft golden light of late afternoon bathed the room, and the moment felt like a secret—yours and his alone.

But what caught you wasn’t just the photos. It was the caption, simple yet profound in its clarity:

"Happy birthday to my best friend, the love of my life, my adventure partner, and my girl."

The internet exploded, notifications from friends, fans, your team, all lighting up your phone. Messages poured in—questions, congratulations, shock. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the truth in Pedro’s words, as clear as the morning light filtering through your window. No more hiding, no more stolen glances or shadows in the background. Just this—a love that had been quietly building, finally stepping into the open.

May 6, 2023

New York, NY

The night of the Met Gala buzzed with energy, a heady mix of anticipation swirling in the air. You both got ready in separate hotel rooms, allowing your respective teams the space to work their magic. The atmosphere was electric, the evening monumental—not just for the fashion, but for what it symbolized: your first public event as a couple. You had spent hours getting ready, your heart racing for reasons beyond the red carpet.

When you finally laid eyes on Pedro in his Valentino ensemble, time seemed to slow. He stood in the doorway, resplendent in a long crimson coat that swirled dramatically as he moved, paired with tailored shorts and sleek black boots. The boldness of the look, the way it fit him so perfectly, stole your breath.

"Oh my God," you whispered, unable to stop your jaw from dropping. There was something about seeing him like this—bold, confident, unapologetically himself—that sent a rush of heat through you.

Pedro, amused by your reaction, raised an eyebrow. “I know,” he said, smirking slightly, clearly aware of the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t help yourself, a cheeky grin curling on your lips. “May I say, as the kids say, that you are serving cunt?”

He burst out laughing, the sound filling the hallway and bouncing off the walls, a deep, genuine laugh that made your heart skip a beat. As he stepped closer, his eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of your body wrapped in the immaculate white Versace gown. The gown hugged your body perfectly, each intricate detail catching the light as you moved.

"Well," he said, still chuckling, his voice dipping as his gaze softened, "you're making it very hard to concentrate on anything else."

The cameras flashed endlessly as you stepped onto the carpet together, arms intertwined, your bodies pressed close as if the entire world didn’t matter. For the first time, there was no hiding, no second-guessing. Your love was out there, on display for everyone to see, the vulnerability of it both thrilling and terrifying. Every step you took together felt like a declaration.

Inside the venue, the evening flowed. The opulent setting melted into the background as you moved through the crowd, hand in hand. There were moments where Pedro would pull you in close, whispering jokes or sweet nothings in your ear, and you'd catch the glint of mischief in his eyes. You danced together several times, his hands resting on your waist, the weight of his touch grounding you in a night that felt like a dream.

The chaos of the night faded away as soon as you were alone, the two of you slipping out of your clothes. The city outside was alive, its lights casting a soft, romantic glow over the bed as you lay together, skin on skin. Pedro moved above you, his hands tracing gentle paths down your body, every touch filled with reverence.

His lips followed the same trail, soft and deliberate, until he kissed you, slow and tender, his body sinking into yours with a quiet intensity. The urgency of earlier was gone, replaced with something deeper, something that spoke of love and forever. His movements were languid, like you had all the time in the world, and maybe you did.

•••

Pedro had been cast in Gladiator 2 and left for Morocco in June to start filming. The distance was both expected and dreaded, the time apart a necessary evil in your world. But then he was gone, and you missed him every day. You flew out to see him twice, visiting the set with a thrill in your chest, knowing that you were entering his world, one where he wore armor and swords and commanded a screen.

The second time you visited, you stayed in a quaint residence near the edge of the city. The night air in Morocco was warm and fragrant. Lying on the bed, a soft breeze ruffling the curtains, you watched Pedro kick off his boots, shedding the intensity of the day's filming as his grin softened in your direction.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice still rough from the day's work.

You rose, crossing the room to slip into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. His arms tightened around you, pulling you into him. You sighed into the space between his collarbones, feeling utterly content in his embrace.

“You know, it never gets old—seeing you in costume,” you teased, peering up at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair. “If I knew you had a thing for gladiators, I would’ve done this sooner.”

You slapped his chest lightly, earning another laugh. “I don’t. Just you.”

•••

When July came, the vast ocean between you dissolved, replaced by the steady beat of his heart as Pedro flew from Morocco. The journey had been long, the hours heavy, but the moment he stepped onto the red carpet in Los Angeles and saw you, standing tall in your black dress, framed against the shimmer of camera flashes, his weariness evaporated. The world could have spun around you, but all that existed for him was you—radiant, poised, and undeniably powerful.

His eyes never left you, and as the evening wore on, he finally drew close, his presence a gentle comfort in the midst of the chaotic premiere. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, each word carrying a tenderness that only you could feel.

Without hesitation, you leaned back into him, your body instinctively finding its place against his. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you in just a little tighter, grounding you amidst the sparkle of the night. “Thank you for being here,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, meant only for him. It was a moment suspended in time, the noise fading as his warmth enveloped you.

In his arms, you weren’t the glamorous you, the center of attention. You were just you, and he was simply Pedro—the man who had flown across continents just to be by your side for the night. His pride in you radiated through every gentle touch, every lingering glance, and in those precious moments, you felt it deeply.

There was no performance here, no expectations. You didn’t have to try; you didn’t have to prove anything. With him, you were never too much or not enough. You were loved—completely and without condition.

•••

The SAG-AFTRA strike gave you both a break you hadn’t anticipated, but it was exactly what you needed. For the first time in ages, there were no press tours, no filming schedules, no red carpets to think about—just you and Pedro in the brownstone you'd bought together in New York.

The place was still in disarray, a maze of half-unpacked boxes, paint swatches taped to walls, and mismatched furniture that had yet to find its place. But it was yours. It was home.

Most days were spent amidst the chaos, trying to bring some sense of order to the space. You’d argue, though never seriously, about where to hang a certain painting, or which color should blanket the living room walls. Pedro had been adamant about a soft olive green, his voice confident as he gestured to the swatch. You’d rolled your eyes, but eventually relented, knowing full well he’d win you over. The walls gradually filled with memories—framed photos of your shared adventures, artwork picked up during travels, and books, some stacked haphazardly, others lovingly arranged by Pedro himself.

One rainy Sunday morning, you found yourself curled up on the couch in the living room, wearing Pedro’s emotional support Lakers shirt, the yellow one, the fabric soft and familiar against your skin. Pedro lay with his head in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly threading through his dark curls. His eyes softened as he looked up at you, a smile playing at the edges of his lips, those crinkling lines at the corners that always made your heart flutter.

"Keep it until I come back," he had said, handing you the shirt the night before he left for Morocco. You’d kept it, of course, holding onto that part of him while he was gone, as if the shirt itself carried a trace of his warmth, his presence. Somehow, Pedro’s t-shirts always felt softer than yours, even though they were washed in the same generic detergent.

When he finally returned, seeing him at the door was enough to make your pulse quicken. You stood there, in his Lakers shirt, grinning at him in the way that only he could inspire. His eyes darkened when he noticed, a low sound escaping his throat. He didn’t even bother to hide the desire that bloomed so quickly between you, his fingers already tugging at the hem of the shirt before you even had the chance to say anything.

That night, he made love to you with the shirt still on, pushing the fabric higher as his hands skimmed the bare skin of your thighs. His fingers knew exactly how to touch you, how to unlock the deepest parts of you before you even knew what was happening. Pedro always wanted your company in such a frank, straightforward way, his need so clear and open that you found yourself giving in to him completely, surrendering to his hands and his mouth before you even realized what you were doing.

As his lips pressed against the curve of your throat, trailing kisses down your neck, he murmured softly, “Missed you so much, mi amor,” his words brushing against your skin as his hand curled tenderly against your ear, thumb tracing the delicate curve. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the tiny bullseye doodle inked on the back of his left hand, just between his thumb and index finger.

The days unfolded like that—long stretches of time where the outside world felt far away. You’d lounge in the living room, watching movies. Or dancing to Prince songs in the kitchen while cooking together.

•••

The strike went on longer than expected, giving him something he hadn’t had in ages—time. Time to breathe, to be with you without the constant pull of deadlines, flights, or set schedules.

When the idea of escaping to Europe surfaced, it felt like fate. He craved your company in ways he hadn’t realized until the possibility of uninterrupted days became real. And so, flights were booked, suitcases stuffed, and you ran away together.

Paris was the first stop. Cobblestone streets and the smell of fresh bread lingered in the air as you wandered hand-in-hand along the Seine. Pedro couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You were his favorite sight in the city.

One evening, the sky was tinted rosy, as if it, too, was in love, bathing the city in a soft, ethereal glow. You leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder, as you stood by the water, the Eiffel Tower looming in the background.

“We needed this,” you murmured, voice as soft as the setting sun.

“Yeah, we did,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The simplicity of the moment made his heart swell. Here, in Paris, everything slowed down, and they had time—time to love without distraction.

•••

Mallorca had a way of making everything slow down. It was the kind of place that made Pedro feel young again. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, and the sky stretched out, impossibly blue, matching the water that shimmered below.

When you arrived at the hotel, the exhaustion from travel and the constant rush of life evaporated as soon as his hands found you.

He couldn't wait any longer, his hands reaching for you the moment you crossed the threshold into your room. His fingers tangled in your hair, his lips pressing urgently against yours as he murmured, "Take this off, quick," between heated kisses. You giggled, that soft, breathy sound that always made his heart skip, but the look in your eyes was anything but playful.

The two of you had tumbled into bed, a mess of limbs and laughter, desire taking over. You were on top of him, moving slow and deliberate, the way he liked it. Your skin glistened with sweat, the heat of the room wrapping around your bodies, and he couldn’t think of anything except how much he needed you in that moment. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was branding him, marking him as yours. His hands roamed your body, fingers tracing the curves he knew so well, and still, every time felt like the first.

When it was over, you both lay tangled together, the scent of your exertion heavy in the air. He could feel your breath on his neck, the warmth of your skin against his. For a long while, neither of you moved, content to just exist in that perfect silence, the summer heat pressing against the windows as the world outside slowed to a standstill. You didn’t know how easily you had marked him, how deeply you had sunk your teeth into his flesh.

Hours later, he woke to find you still draped over him, your head resting on his chest, your fingers splayed over his stomach. His heart ached in the best way—this was what it meant to be yours. Every part of him, from the way he loved you to the way his mind quieted when you were near, belonged to you.

The next morning, you were sitting by the water, perched on the smooth rocks that lined the shore. The water was clear as day, a sparkling, crystal blue that seemed to go on endlessly. You were wearing that purple swimsuit he loved so much. It made his pulse quicken every time he saw you in it.

You were eating fruit—mangos and berries, the sweetness lingering on his lips as you both played cards; the deck spread out between you. Pedro loved these simple moments. The sunlight reflected off the water, casting a coppery glow over everything, and he couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked, your wet hair falling loosely around your shoulders, your eyes bright and happy.

“You’re cheating,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you set your cards down, suspicious.

He grinned, pretending to be offended.

“Cheating? Me? I would never.”

“You totally are,” you insisted, reaching across to poke his chest. “I know that look. You’ve got something.”

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his gaze sweeping over you. “I’m not cheating, cariño. I’m just better at this game than you.”

“Liar.”

It was easy between you, the banter flowing naturally as you both basked in the warmth of the sun. There was a lightness to being here, a sense of freedom that neither of you could ignore.

Everything felt right—perfect, even.

A few minutes later, you stretched lazily, setting your cards aside as you glanced toward the water. “Wanna take a swim, old man?” you teased, your eyes sparkling. “I’m hot.”

He raised an eyebrow, his heart racing just a little faster at the sight of you.

God, you were beautiful.

"Yes."

You stood, offering him your hand, and he took it, pulling himself to his feet with a grin. “Come on then,” you said, leading him toward the water, your bare feet dancing across the hot rocks.

The water was cool against his skin as you both waded in, the heat of the day melting away as you swam lazily, floating in the crystal-clear sea. He couldn’t stop watching you, the way the water glistened on your skin, the way you smiled at him, carefree and full of life.

•••

Prague felt like stepping into another time, a place woven with cobblestone streets and Gothic spires. Pedro loved it here. It suited the two of you—a city where you could get lost, but it never felt like a mistake, only an adventure. As you walked hand in hand through the narrow alleyways, your laughter echoed off the ancient stone walls.

He hadn’t been able to stop staring at you all night, captivated by the way your red lipstick caught the dim light of streetlamps, the way it stained the wine glass at dinner. It was as if the color made everything else disappear, and his attention had been stuck on your mouth, tracing the lines of your lips as you smiled, teased, and bantered with him. The playful glint in your eyes was dangerous, addictive.

“You keep calling me ‘old man’ like it’s supposed to offend me,” he teased, his voice low as you strolled down the empty streets, slightly drunk, arm looped through his.

“Well,” you said, pausing dramatically to look up at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You are older. Wiser, though. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he laughed. “Careful, baby, or I’ll stop giving you the benefit of my hard-earned wisdom.”

“Hard-earned wisdom, huh? Sure,” you teased, your fingers tugging gently at the fabric of his black dress shirt, your steps a little unsteady but your voice steady with danger. “Was it hard-earned the same way you’ve earned all those aches and pains?”

He groaned exaggeratedly, putting a hand to his back, pretending to wince. “See? There it is again. More ageism. You’re really hurting my feelings here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh; the sound light and free. “You don’t have feelings.”

“I do,” he replied, pulling you closer with a smirk. “But only for you.”

As you walked, your voice drifted into song, soft and playful, filling the quiet streets with warmth. He didn’t know if you realized how much those little moments, like hearing you sing absentmindedly, grounded him, made him feel like everything in the world was where it should be.

“Do you ever stop singing?” he asked, though not wanting you to stop.

“Not when I’m happy,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

His chest tightened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair as the city’s chill air wrapped around you both. “I like hearing it.”

When you reached Waldstein Gardens earlier that afternoon, the place had been nearly empty. The serenity of the garden, the way your footsteps echoed in the quiet, felt magical. The trees arched over the pathways, casting dappled shadows that danced as you moved through them, your laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.

At one point, you had gotten lost, but neither of you cared. It was part of the charm, part of what made being with you feel so effortless—there was never a rush, never an urgency. You wandered the gardens as though you had all the time in the world.

“Getting lost with you isn’t so bad,” he had said at one point, his hand brushing against yours.

“You’re just saying that because I have no idea where we are.”

“Maybe.” He stopped walking then, turning to face you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing the corner of your mouth, smudging that perfect red lipstick ever so slightly.

“But it’s true.”

You kissed him then, in the middle of the empty path. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, it felt like Prague, the gardens, the world itself, existed solely to frame this moment.

Later, back in your hotel room, you laughed about how lost you had gotten, and he couldn’t stop looking at your lips, still stained that perfect red.

•••

Budapest was a dream of thermal baths and long, lazy afternoons. One day, you both spent hours soaking in the warm water, your body pressed against his, head resting on his shoulder as you floated aimlessly. He had never felt so relaxed, so completely at ease with anyone else. You were his anchor, keeping him from drifting away into his worries.

“You sing when you wash yourself,” he told you one night as you stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet and a towel wrapped around your body.

“Do I?” you asked, smiling as you pulled him close.

He nodded, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “It’s one of the best sounds in the world.”

"Any requests for my next shower?"

"Hm, maybe some Fleetwood Mac?"

"Excellent choice, señor."

•••

Amsterdam was breathtakingly beautiful, and Pedro started to feel the weight of traveling in his bones. Though he didn't care. He was too busy loving you.

You two were in a bookstore, and you were a few aisles over, browsing through a stack of Russian literature, and he could hear you muttering under your breath, something about Dostoevsky. He turned the corner and found you flipping through a copy of White Nights.

“I swear, I’m like that annoying guy who’s always like, ‘Oh, I love Dostoevsky, I’m so cool, blah blah,’” you said, half-joking but self-aware, and Pedro couldn’t help but laugh at your expression.

He leaned against the shelf, arms crossed, his smile soft and warm. “I actually read Crime and Punishment,” he said. “Surprisingly, it was a pageturner.”

“So, that makes us both annoying, huh?”

“Guess so.” He chuckled, watching as you turned your attention back to the books, eyes scanning the shelves like you were searching for a treasure hidden somewhere in the pages.

Pedro had always been drawn to sad books—melancholic stories, poems filled with longing. He didn’t know why, but they spoke to a part of him that craved depth. Maybe it was his way of dealing with his own emotions, or maybe it was just the kind of person he was.

A few minutes passed, and he found you again, holding a book in his hand. “Have you read The Master and Margarita?” he asked, handing it to you with a curious look.

You shook your head, glancing at the cover. “No, but if it’s one of your favorites, it’s going in the basket.”

You slipped it into the growing pile of books in your arms, and he smiled to himself, a little satisfied. He always felt a thrill when he introduced you to something he loved, like he was sharing a part of himself with you in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

Later that day, you found yourselves biking along the narrow streets, the cool breeze ruffling your hair. Pedro had long since gotten used to the feeling of the city under his tires, but he could still feel the fatigue of the trip settling into his bones.

You, on the other hand, were full of energy, pedaling with ease and laughing as you wove in and out of the winding paths.

“Stop, stop!” you called out, laughing as you veered toward a small ice cream stand by the water. Pedro pulled up beside you, catching his breath as you hopped off your bike, grinning like a kid.

“You want some?” you asked, eyeing the menu as if you hadn’t already decided what you were getting.

He raised an eyebrow, watching you with that look he always gave when you were being particularly cute. “You’re the one who’s always saying I’m the one with the sweet tooth.”

“Yeah, but I’m hot,” you replied, throwing him a playful glance. “Old man, you should try to keep up.”

He rolled his eyes, pretending to be offended as he got off his bike. “You know, the more you call me ‘old man,’ the less inclined I am to buy you ice cream.”

You gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t.”

He laughed, shaking his head as you ordered two scoops of stroopwafel-flavored ice cream. The vendor handed it over, and you took a bite, closing your eyes in bliss. It was one of the things he loved about you—how you seemed to savor every little thing, even the simple joy of ice cream on a sunny afternoon.

After you had both finished, you found a bench by the canal, sitting side by side as people biked past and boats drifted lazily by. You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder, and Pedro wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your hair mixed with the cool air of the city.

“You know, this has been one of my favorite days,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He smiled, his heart full. “Mine too.”

A few days later, Pedro stretched his legs out on the couch, wrapping them around yours, as the familiar opening scenes of The Princess Bride rolled across the screen. The rain outside was steady, a soft backdrop to the cozy warmth of the hotel room. He was in his element, leaning into the cushions with a contented grin, quoting the movie with ease.

"Farm boy, fetch me that pitcher..." he said in perfect sync with the screen, his voice low and exaggerated. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the slight roll of your eyes.

“Oh my god, P, you do know every line,” you said, your voice tinged with affection as you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "You're such a nerd."

He turned to you, a mock look of indignation on his face. “Uh, do I need to remind you of all the times you’ve made me watch Mamma Mia?” His eyebrow raised dramatically, but his tone was playful. “And each time, you quote it in its entirety—and sing all the songs. Should I get started on Dancing Queen?”

You laughed, the sound soft and light. He loved that sound. Loved that it was his ridiculous comments that brought it out of you.

"Oh, don’t even tell me you don’t love it," you fired back, grinning up at him, your finger poking his side as if daring him to deny it.

He grinned wider, shrugging a little too innocently. “Well... I may or may not have had Super Trouper stuck in my head for weeks after the last time. So thanks for that.” He shifted, planting a kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering in your hair for a moment.

You nudged him, laughing. “I knew it. You love it. Admit it—you secretly love ABBA.”

He groaned dramatically. “Okay, fine. But only because you sing the songs better than the actual cast,” he teased, grinning as he leaned in closer, his forehead brushing yours. "Also, because Pierce Brosnan’s singing makes me feel better about my own.”

“Oh, please,” you said, laughing, “I’ve heard you sing. He's good. You? you...try.”

Pedro’s grin turned soft as he looked at you. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he murmured, his hand absentmindedly running through your hair.

The movie continued playing in the background, but it was quickly becoming an afterthought as you tangled yourself further into him. Your feet brushed against his, and he shifted slightly to wrap his arms around you tighter.

"Honestly," he started again, "I don't know how you do it. Mamma Mia, what, three times a month?"

“Hey, ABBA is universal,” you shot back, poking him again.

Pedro chuckled, leaning back into the cushions.

“Alright, alright.”

He kissed the tip of your nose, and you scrunched it.

“Do you think we’re ever gonna get through a movie without this much banter?” you asked, grinning as you broke the tender moment.

Pedro laughed.“Absolutely not. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes again, settling deeper into his chest as the rain continued to patter against the window, and for a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the movie continuing on without needing your attention.

But then, just as the movie’s most iconic scene approached, Pedro couldn’t resist.

“As you wish,” he said, quoting Westley once more, his voice low and affectionate, his lips brushing the top of your head again.

You groaned, half-laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Pedro murmured, his grin softening into something more tender. “But I know you wouldn't have it any other way.”

"You're right for once."

•••

Lisbon was hot. The kind of heat that makes everything slow down—the air, the conversations, the drinks. Pedro loved it. The golden sunlight bouncing off the tiled walls, the lazy sound of street musicians playing as you wandered through the city together. His friends had joined you both here for a bit, filling the days with laughter and easy company.

Tonight, you were all crammed into a small bar. He was on his third cold beer, the condensation dripping down his fingers as he took a slow sip, savoring the moment. Every now and then, he’d feel your gaze on him, and when he looked back, there you were—teasing him about yet another ridiculous shirt he’d thrown on.

“Is this one an improvement over yesterday’s?” he asked, voice full of mock innocence. He gestured to the vibrant, swirling orange and pink pattern across his chest.

You squinted, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned closer. “It’s loud. I’ll give you that. If we get lost, I can just look for a neon sign with arms.”

He snorted, setting his beer down, and casually placed his hand on your knee. The conversation around the table swirled—friends joking, sharing stories, laughing—but his focus kept drifting back to you. The way your skin glowed under the low light, the way your shoulders were bare, save for that thin scarf you’d tied as a top. Every time you leaned forward to laugh, the knot on your back shifted slightly, and he found himself tracing the lines of it with his eyes, admiring the curve of your spine.

You said his name a lot lately. In that soft, familiar way you did when you were teasing him, or when you wanted his attention, or when you were just... comfortable. Every time you said it, it sent a small jolt of tenderness through him.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger for just a second longer than necessary. The skin was warm from the Lisbon sun, and the smell of your perfume mixed with the salty sea breeze.

One afternoon, the group had convinced you both to take a pottery class. He hadn’t been sure about it at first—clay and his hands weren’t usually a good match—but seeing the excited look on your face when you found the studio made it worth it.

You’d both sat at a long table with his friends, laughing as you tried to shape bowls and cups out of the spinning clay. Your first attempt looked more like a lumpy rock than anything functional.

“Is that supposed to be a mug, or are you sculpting an alien egg?” he teased, leaning over to inspect your disaster of a creation.

He saw you glance at his perfectly shaped little vase and pretended to look offended.

“I’m going for abstract, thank you very much. It’s called art.”

He chuckled, reaching over to smooth out one of the many dents in your clay. “Uh-huh. Very avant-garde of you, Picasso.”

But as much as he teased you, he caught your sneaking glances, a small smile playing on your lips as you focused on your own project. He loved that look, the one you got when you were completely in the moment. It was one of the intangible things about you that had him wrapped up in this feeling—this deep, undeniable love for you that grew stronger with each passing day.

Then, there was that morning with the guitar.

You knew he could play a little—enough to get by—but since he’d be playing in the second season of The Last of Us, he wanted to get better.

Naturally, you’d offered to teach him. The two of you had sat on the balcony of your Lisbon apartment, overlooking the orange-tiled rooftops, the sunlight leaving soft shadows over the city. You had your guitar across your lap, showing him some basic chords.

He was fumbling through a chord progression when you placed your hands over his, your body pressing up behind him to guide his fingers. He could feel your breath on his neck, the closeness making it hard to focus on the strings.

“C’mon, you’ve got this,” you said, your voice encouraging but playful. “It’s not that hard.”

He let out a frustrated laugh, leaning back into you slightly. “Says the musical genius over here.”

You laughed, your lips brushing against his ear. “You’re just distracted,” you teased, your hands still over his, guiding his fingers through the chord.

“Maybe I am,” he muttered, grinning as he strummed again, this time hitting the right notes. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

You leaned closer, your chin resting on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your face. “See? I’m a great teacher.”

He shifted slightly, turning his head so your faces were almost touching. “Or maybe I’m just a great student.”

“Don’t get cocky, Pascal.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, feeling that same warmth spread through him again. These moments—when it was just the two of you, tangled up in something as simple as learning a song—they felt infinite. He knew he’d carry them with him long after this trip was over.

Back in the bar, as the night stretched on, Pedro sat back and took it all in. His friends, his drink, you. It was the small, intangible things that made him love you more each day. Every once in a while, he’d lean in to place another kiss on your bare shoulder, just because he could. Just because he was happy.

•••

Pedro leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, as the sun dipped behind the whitewashed buildings of Santorini. The sky was a vivid pink, painted like a postcard, and the sea below shimmered in a way that made it look almost unreal. You sat beside him on the balcony, sharing a bottle of white wine, your feet propped on the railing. The light caught your face, and Pedro couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by how the golden hue played off your skin, tracing the curves of your cheekbones, catching in your eyes.

You turned to him, smiling as you took a sip from your glass. “What?” you asked softly, your voice teasing.

He shook his head, smiling back. “Nothing. Just... I’m watching the sunset.”

You laughed, the sound soft and melodic, filling the space between you. “Pedro, the sunset’s over there.” You motioned toward the horizon, but he didn’t budge.

“I know,” he said, his eyes still fixed on you. “I’m watching this sunset.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your cheeks flushed, and Pedro swore he could spend every night like this.

"You're so cheesy."

Later that night, as you lay together in bed, Pedro traced the tan lines on your back, his fingers lightly brushing the places where the sun had kissed your skin. You had fallen asleep draped over him, your breath soft and even, and for a moment, he just watched you, trying to memorize the way you looked right then—beautiful, peaceful, perfect. He wondered if you knew what a cure you were, how you’d managed to stitch up the parts of him he didn’t even know were broken.

A few days later, you dragged him to a small, lively bar tucked away in the maze of Santorini’s winding streets. “Someone told me about this place at breakfast,” you said, pulling him by the hand. “They have fun cocktails, I heard.”

Pedro raised an eyebrow, but let you lead him. “Are you sure that's all?” he teased, his voice low and warm.

“Yes, yes,” you flashed him a grin, that wicked little smile that always made his chest tighten.

The bar was relaxed but bustling, filled with the soft murmur of people talking over drinks. Pedro wore a loose white linen shirt, feeling a bit too warm but too comfortable to care. You, on the other hand, looked like you belonged in a dream—a short, flowy white dress that clung to your body just right, showing off your legs in a way that drove him wild. All his thoughts kept coming back to you in that dress. He couldn’t stop looking. Every time you shifted, crossed your legs, or leaned in to talk, his mind wandered to how good you looked in it.

As the two of you sat at a table in the center, sipping cocktails and bantering over something stupid, Pedro noticed the energy in the room shift. The lights dimmed, and a woman—likely in her 60s, with long white hair and a colorful dress—stepped to the front of the room.

“Good evening, everyone!” she said, her thick accent cutting through the crowd. “If you’ve been here before, you know the drill. And if you haven’t, welcome to the karaoke section of the night!”

Pedro’s eyes went wide. He turned to you immediately.

“Oh no,” you muttered, pulling your chair back. “I had no idea—do you want to leave?”

For a moment, he thought you were about to escape, but instead, the woman with the mic suddenly appeared at your side, handing it to you. You grinned at Pedro, your eyes twinkling with mischief, shrugging as if to say, what can you do?

Pedro let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve ambushed me,” he said, grinning as you stood up and made your way toward the front.

The crowd cheered as you started to sing Honey, Honey, and Pedro leaned back in his chair, watching you in awe. You were working the room like it was your own personal stage, your white dress flowing as you danced in your sandals and smiled, effortlessly captivating everyone.

As the music swelled, you pointed at him during the line, “You look like a movie star,” your eyes locking with his. Pedro played along, pointing at himself with an exaggerated look of confusion, mouthing, “Me?”

God, you were driving him crazy.

The whole room was watching you, and they had their phones out, and he loved it. Loved that this moment would live forever, likely plastered across social media by morning. But more than anything, he loved that you were his, that you could light up any room and still make him feel like the only person there.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted in applause, and you took a few pictures with some of the guests before sauntering back to the table, sitting down across from him like nothing had happened. Pedro was still grinning, his heart beating fast from watching you, completely enamored.

“Not bad,” you teased, sipping your drink, pretending like you hadn’t just stolen the show.

Pedro leaned across the table, lowering his voice like it was a secret meant just for you. “You’re killing me here, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Killing you, how?”

“You... in that dress,” he said softly, his eyes dropping to your legs before flicking back to your face. “Dancing, in that dress. Singing. It’s unfair, really. I’m trying to keep it together over here.”

You laughed, your foot brushing against his under the table. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Should I have picked a more modest song or…dress?”

Pedro smirked, leaning in even closer, his hand reaching across the table to rest on yours. “You know what’s comfortable?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “The fact that you’re going home with me tonight.”

Your eyes sparkled, and Pedro knew that look all too well. “Well, sir,” you said with a grin, “then I guess I’ll have to make it worth your while.”

Pedro chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “You already do,” he whispered.

•••

Amalfi Coast was like a postcard come to life. The sea carried out before him, sparkling blue. Both of you spent hours on the beach, the sun hot on your skin. You wore a red bikini that left little to the imagination, and every time he glanced at you, he felt something stir in his chest. There were parts of your body, those sun-kissed curves, that felt too sacred to stare at for too long, yet he couldn’t look away.

You could not be held responsible for his reaction to you, for the cry of your sunburnt skin against the bright red bikini.

When you both returned to the hotel room after a long day, you ordered a bucket of ice. Pedro didn’t question it, watching you from the bed as you moved about the room with that effortless grace you had. When the door clicked shut, you emptied the ice into a small towel and handed it to him.

“Will you do my back, baby?” you asked, voice soft but certain. Of course, he would. How could he deny you anything?

He pressed the cold towel to your sunburnt skin, your body arching slightly under his touch. “You should have stayed in the shade,” he teased, though his voice was filled with tenderness.

"You know how stubborn I am."

He wasn’t sure he had ever felt so content, so completely grounded in a moment. You were his fix, keeping him tethered to this world, to the present, to himself.

Later that night, with the cool breeze from the sea drifting in through the open window, Pedro pulled you close, pressing soft kisses to the places he had soothed with ice earlier. You moaned softly, and he felt that familiar warmth spread through him.

In those moments, he wants to give you everything—his time, his love, his energy. He hopes you take it. He wants to be yours completely, to listen to all of your musings, that you write him a thousand songs and letters, to be your safe space, just as you were his.

•••

He was nominated for an Emmy while you were in Rome, and he could tell you had never been more proud of him. You tackled him in the hotel room when the news broke, showering him with kisses, his laughter echoing through the space.

“Mi amor, you're going to kill me,” he laughed, though his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly.

“I don’t care,” you beamed, your hands cupping his face. “You deserve this so much.”

October 28, 2023

Los Angeles, California

This week was etched into your memory as the final crescendo to a whirlwind of Halloween festivities. LA had been alive with spooky energy the entire month, and tonight was no different.

You had spent the past week with Pedro, hopping from one Halloween event to another, attending parties, and trying to outdo each other with costumes. A few nights ago, you went to Halloween Horror Nights with his sister, Lux, and it had been a blast. You kept things simple with jeans and a t-shirt, but the thrill of the night was anything but.

The three of you had navigated the maze of haunted houses, clinging to each other whenever something jumped out at you. Lux had led the way, fearless, while Pedro and you exchanged shrieks and laughter.

"Okay, next haunted house, I'm going first," Pedro had said, puffing out his chest.

"You said that last time, and yet..." you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Lux laughed, shaking her head. "Don't let him fool you, he's jumped every time."

Pedro gasped dramatically. "Betrayed by my own sister. I thought we had a pact."

The whole night had been filled with that kind of lighthearted banter, and by the end, the three of you were breathless from laughing, your sides aching as you relived the best scares over churros and hot chocolate.

But tonight was different. Tonight was the final party of the season, the one you and Pedro were hosting at your LA home. The living room had been transformed with cobwebs and orange fairy lights, pumpkins scattered around with flickering candles inside. The theme for your costumes had been a matter of heated debate all week, but in the end, you’d settled on something so ridiculous it was perfect.

You, in a buttoned-up suit and black tie, with a fedora perched on your head, were Oppenheimer.

Pedro, in black pants, a black shirt with white fringe, a pink bandana draped around his neck, and a white cowboy hat—was Cowboy Ken.

Together, you were, you guessed it: Barbenheimer.

For hours, you floated around the party, telling people, “We’re Barbenheimer!” while Pedro chimed in, “Or more like Kenenheimer, don’t you think?”

The whole night you were drifting from conversation to conversation, catching up with your girlfriends. All your old dramas are revived that night, and it is so sweet. But eventually, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, searching for a moment of peace away from the noise. You opened the fridge to grab another drink when you heard the familiar sound of Pedro's boots behind you.

"Well, hello there," he said, setting down two empty beer bottles on the island. His voice was soft, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that you recognized immediately.

You turned around, leaning against the counter with a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, hi, baby.”

You took a step towards him, your eyes shamelessly raking over his cowboy getup. He really had committed to the role, he hadn't taken that hat off all night.

Pedro noticed your gaze, smirking as he adjusted his hat. “What are you up to, Oppie? Did you need a drink, or are you just here to admire the view?”

You chuckled, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him. “You know,” you began, running a hand up the front of his shirt, “when you decided on Cowboy Ken, I was a bit skeptical. I thought you were going to look funny…”

“Oh yeah?”

“But it turns out,” you continued, letting your voice drop, “it’s actually really hot, mister.” Your fingers trailed slowly over the lapel of his shirt, down to his belt.

Pedro tilted his head, his smirk widening into a full grin. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, eyes gleaming. “I guess I have a thing for cowboys now.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he spoke. “Good to know,” he whispered. His hand came up to rest on your waist, pulling you in just a little tighter.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. The smell of him, that mix of cologne and something distinctly Pedro, filled your senses.

The morning after the party, you woke up to a flood of notifications. He was fast asleep next to you. Sleepily grabbing your phone, you scrolled through the pictures from last night, stopping at the one you'd posted of you and Pedro in your costumes.

The caption: "Save a horse, ride a Ken."

It had been quite a hit. People were already loving the playfulness of it, but then you noticed Pedro’s comment beneath the post. Of course, he couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire.

Pedro had written: "How about we skip the horse and go straight to the riding? 😘🐎"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head at the screen. It was so him. And of course, the comment section below his was already blowing up with people reacting insanely to it.

This man.

December 22, 2023

Santiago, Chile

Christmas in Chile was supposed to be calm—a peaceful, family-filled holiday with Pedro’s relatives. You'd imagined quiet dinners, soft music, and some traditional Chilean dishes. But in typical Pedro fashion, things didn’t stay quiet for long.

It started innocently enough. The two of you had decided to explore the local market, weaving through the crowds, hand in hand. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of grilled meats and roasted chestnuts, the hustle of people bartering, chatting, and living. Pedro was telling you something funny—some story about when he was a kid and his brother dared him to climb a tree.

You weren’t really listening, though, because your eyes kept catching on the colorful stalls and bright trinkets. It was the perfect, chaotic slice of Chilean life.

Then, out of nowhere, it happened. One minute Pedro was laughing, and the next, his foot caught a loose cobblestone, and down he went. Time slowed for a moment, and all you could do was gasp as you saw him hit the ground, his arm awkwardly twisted beneath him.

“Pedro!” You shrieked, rushing to his side, heart hammering in your chest.

He winced as you kneeled beside him, your hands hovering over him like you weren’t sure where to touch. His face was scrunched up, but he looked up at you with that familiar grin, trying to calm you down despite the clear pain written across his features. “Baby, it’s fine. Calm down.”

But it wasn’t fine. His right arm looked wrong, and even though he tried to brush it off, you knew better. Panic twisted your stomach, and before you knew it, you were helping him up, heading straight to the hospital.

The next few hours were a blur of waiting rooms and x-rays, and you held your breath every time Pedro winced. By the time they had him in an arm sling, you’d run through every possible scenario in your head, imagining the worst. But Pedro, as always, was trying to make light of the situation, his laughter filling the otherwise sterile room.

When you finally sat beside him, a mix of relief and exasperation washed over you. “Do you want me to kiss it better?” you teased, leaning over, your earlier panic slowly dissolving.

Pedro smirked, eyes sparkling despite the bandages. “Maybe later,” he said with a wink, his tone low, full of innuendo.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Even in pain, even with his arm in a sling, Pedro was Pedro—never one to let anything dampen his spirits for long.

A couple of days after the initial chaos settled, you found yourselves at his family’s home. Pedro’s sling stood out against the twinkling Christmas lights, but he didn’t seem to care. And neither did you, because as you sat together, surrounded by family, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth. Even if your quiet holiday had taken an unexpected turn, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

December 31st, 2023

Los Angeles, California

New Year’s Eve felt different this time around—different in the best way possible. There was a softness to the night. The party swirled with music and movement, friends mingling and dancing in the flicker of colorful lights. But even with all that, your attention was fully drawn to him.

Pedro looked ridiculously adorable, even with his arm in a sling from that incident, and to top it off, he wore this silly pointy party hat that somehow made him even cuter. Every time you glanced at him, your heart warmed a little more. He had been a trooper through the night, navigating conversations and laughter with his usual charm, but always with that one lazy smile he reserved just for you.

After a few drinks, you found yourself perched on his lap, leaning against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His left arm, the one still functional, wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close. You were rambling about something silly, pestering him like you often did, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Understood," he said, his fingers tapped lightly against your lips, a gesture that you had come to love.

You caught his fingers, pretending to bite them before leaning in for a kiss. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and familiar, and despite how long you’d been together, every kiss still made your heart race a little.

The song playing in the background, Do Friends Fall in Love?, fitted perfectly.

His hand slid gently down your back, making you shiver at the contact, his thumb tracing soft, lazy circles on your hip.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You smiled, laughing softly as you nuzzled closer. “You’re an open book, Pascal,” you teased, rolling your eyes dramatically, though your words were laced with affection. “Easy to read.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving you that half-smile, the one that always made your heart flip. It was a smile full of challenge, like he knew something you didn’t but wasn’t about to tell you.

“Oh yeah?” he muttered, leaning in closer, his lips grazing your ear, making you blush even in the warmth of the crowded room.

The night carried on around you, the music mixing with the hum of laughter and conversations, but your attention never wavered from him. The countdown to midnight began, the excitement in the room rising as everyone gathered with glasses in hand, but you were only aware of the way Pedro’s thumb traced patterns on your thigh, the way his eyes softened as they looked into yours.

“Five… four…”

The rest of the party blurred, voices fading into the background as the two of you stayed locked in that moment.

“Three… two…”

Pedro’s eyes never left yours, and in the space between heartbeats, the room fell away. His gaze was warm, intense, and full of love—so much that it felt like you could melt under it.

“One!”

Cheers erupted around you, glasses clinking, people shouting “Happy New Year!” But you barely heard any of it because Pedro’s lips were on yours, warm, gentle, and full of everything that made your heart feel like it was soaring.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you couldn’t help but smile, resting your forehead against his, feeling the soft tickle of his breath against your skin. “Happy New Year, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

He smiled back, eyes twinkling with that familiar warmth. “Happy New Year, mi amor,” he replied, his voice low and tender, the words settling between you like a promise for the year to come.

a/n: alright so this was so nice and fun to write. please pleaseee let me know your thoughts besties!!! and don't forget to reblog and like. much love <3

next and final part!

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #love is complicated fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

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nexadarling · 4 months ago

Text

Trigun Explicit Recs!

So it turns out there are too many good fics in this fandom and I maxed out the amount of links allowed in a single post (it's 100 btw) so I decided to split the E rated stuff from everything else, cause it makes sense to me.

I offer you my list of smut, organized by wordcount! Most of which will also give you so many emotions cause what is Vashwood with out self-loathing and biblical references. This is a living document and I update it regularly, so come check back for more recs!!

I tried to tag all the authors who have tumblrs, but if I missed someone pls tag them/let me know!

Any fic that features "+" after the word count is on-going/uncompleted, and they are all listed at the end. As they finish, I will add the final word count and place them accordingly.

Check the tags yall!!!

a softer world by Harubo ( @helloharubo) - 2k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Painter Vash; Doctor Wolfwood; Reincarnation vibes; Wolfwood has regular dreams of Vash where he's covered in scars and full of a deep, aching sadness. When he wakes up, he needs his husband to reassure him he's still in one piece

not dying, then by amaiyo - 2k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp (I think? iirc); Plant Heat; Vash goes into heat and Wolfwood does his best to help, but man is he kinda lost; this is so fucking good, Vash is such a mess, and honestly so is Wolfwood but he's just trying to keep up, poor guy

Ask Without Speaking by ChenamaReel - 2k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; Wolfwood comes to Vash's room to wake him from a nightmare, and stays. Halfway through the night they both wake up to a very compromising position; Listen I've read this an embarrassing amount of times, the feelings packed into this tiny fic are amazing and it's really hot okay????

la petite mort by @babeyxiao-art and expertfool - 3k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; Vash and Wolfwood get drunk and argue in an alley. A threat turns into… something much different; this did something to my brain chemistry for sure, I fully blame it for my newly found gun kink

My Body's Moving Into Retrograde by Sacramental_Wine - 3k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood makes Vash want something for himself for once

you'll leave me lonely at best by @procrastinating-bookworm - 3k; Vashwood; E; Post-Badlands Rumble; You know the fucking drill, it's time for some widow Wolfwood reunion sex; God I love the way this fandom explores the hell Wolfwood went through before Vash pops back up like "Jk guys, I'm not dead!"

Heat Waves by @revenantpoet - 3k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash is having more regular plant heats because of Wolfwood. Wolfwood helps him out (in the car lol) and tries really hard not to think about the fact that he triggers such a reaction from Vash; I like my smut with a side of angst and Vashwood brand repression! This is that exactly, and it's really fucking hot. Blowing so many loving kisses at Rev for this

when your stitch comes loose by @starkillling - 4k; Vashwood; E; Vashwood's relationship with Vash's wings

Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me by Sacramental_Wine - 5k; Vashwood; E; Wolf shifter Wolfwood (if you've ever seen Wolf's Rain it's like that); Vash helps an injured wolf, the next morning a man shows up at his door; no cause this is so cute Vash is so baffled at first by Wolfwood’s appearance I love them so much???

Strange Powers by @tenshinokorin - 5k; Vashwood; E; they accidentally get high and fuck about it; I laughed my ass off reading this, pls, it's so good

when I picture you by @pinklicour - 5k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - College; This is just a silly little fic about Vashwood hooking up, but Wolfwood's pining is so precious and I've reread the scene where they actually become a couple several times cause it makes me so happy; Mack always keeps me so well feed with all the cutesy vw concepts

Little Pieces of the Nothing that Fall by starkstateofmind - 5k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; it rains and Vash manic pixie dream girls himself into bed with Wolfwood; i kinda stared at a wall for a little after reading this, it's really beautiful and I might also be a manic pixie dream girl

Sing Pretty Melodies on the Motel Bed by @amphetamine-keen - 5k; Vashwood; E; Trimax vibes; Wolfwood convinces Vash to try a vaginal plug; this is just smut but I did read it at least twice. idk what that says about me, but it does say that it's a good fic. And that I have a new toy I need to buy– ANYWAY

fire, nicotine, and iron by quietfaun - 5k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Dirtbag Wolfwood, cause it's a weakness I have; Vash gets Wolfwood shot and feels really bad about it. After all, he was really just picking up a stranger for a good night, he wasn't looking to get pulled into Vash's world; Wolfwood is so fucking nasty in this and I am exactly as into it as Vash is, lord help me

Sing, Sweet Salvation by Bohemienne - 5k; Vashwood; E; Trimax/98; Vash ignores his feelings for Wolfwood just a little too long, and his body decides to Do Something about it. It gets... monster-y; You I'm a sucker for some creature Vash and some monsterfuckery!! Hell yeah

Nothing but Neon by just_a_lil_shipmate - 5k; Vashwood, E; Trimax/98; Vash and Wolfwood go to bed like normal--totally normal, nothing wrong with sharing a bed with your friend no matter how much Vash wants it to be more. Vash wakes up with Wolfwood hard against him and maybe gets a little carried away; I fully blame this fic for me liking somno, but it just manages to be the right amount of soft and hot

what you need by amaiyo - 6k; Vashwood; E; sequel to Not Dying, Then; Vash wants to make up for falling asleep after Wolfwood helped him the first time with his heat; Bottom Wolfwood supremacy!! Man gets his shit wrecked, physically and emotionally

disarm you with a smile by gloriousporpoise - 6k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Friends With Benefits; 5+1; It gets harder and harder for Wolfwood not to kiss Vash; You will--and I mean you will--spend this entire fic chanting 'kiss him! kiss him! kiss him!' and be disappointed when he doesn't despite knowing it doesn't happen until the clearly labelled +1 scene

welcome to the beautiful place by @pinklicour - 7k; Vashwood; E; Vash watches Wolfwood interact with a kid for too long and has Feelings about it, turns out Wolfwood feels the same; biting them, shaking them like dog toys, let them have a family goddammit

Nothing Left to Hide by GGumdrops - 7k; Vashwood; E; Wing fic wing fic wing fic; Vash is clearly uncomfortable but doesn't want to tell Wolfwood why. When he finally convinces Vash to show him, he preens his wings for him

in other words by riverenne - 7k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Triple-amputee Vash; Unsurprisingly, Vash and Wolfwood are running, and Wolfwood learns a lot about the whirlwind that is Vash; listeeeennnn they're so desperate for each other

when you've laid your hands upon me by amaiyo - 7k; Vashwood; E; Vash gets feverish and delirious, and Wolfwood wants so badly to help. It's not until he's really out of it that Vash realizes what's happening: a heat that can only be triggered by intense emotion linked to an individual; Vash loves Wolfwood so much it sends him into heat and he's so worried about driving Wolfwood off but he needs him so bad

you tear down my reason by halfdemonvash - 8k; Vashwood; E; .... trimaxVashwood/stampedeVashwood; yeah it's selfcest, i'm not sorry about it, it's so fucking good

Bind Your Faith in Scars and Tape by just_a_lil_shipmate - 8k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - College; Vash pines after Wolfwood, and then properly falls for him when they're forced to spend time in the university greenhouse regularly; Meryl is my favorite

perfect world by outdoorcats - 8k; Vashwood; E; sequel to Water Supply; less drunk but more (beautifully) emotional; "What if we ran away and got married" vibes

bad moon rising by crocodile - 8k; Vashwood; E; Urban Fantasy AU; Vampire Vash; Werewolf Wolfwood; Hunter Wolfwood; T4T; The author describes this as slice of life between vampire and vampire hunter and like yeah that's exactly what this is and it fucks

water supply by outdoorcats - 9k; Vashwood; E; they get wine drunk and get like emotionally horny; this is so fucking beautiful they’re so in love I hate it here

Holding My Breath by @nekotachis - 9k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Vash tells Wolfwood he's never been on a date, so Wolfwood takes him on one. Feelings are definitely not had during said date

the perfectest herald of joy by riverenne - 9k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash has a lot of self-soothing habits that drive Wolfwood absolutely insane; I am so unwell about how River writes Wolfwood for real

Dark evil ocean, I’m craving more by Albedothighs - 9k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Mer; OrcaWood; Human Vash; Vash and Wolfwood work together so Vash can temporarily be a mer, that way they can be together when storms would otherwise keep them apart. Of course, instead they have a lot of fun exploring Vash's new body together

Trial and error by Anonymous - 10k; Vashwood; E; Vash has freaky plant parts and is pretty sure he can't orgasm, but he's happy to be with Wolfwood however he wants! Wolfwood is determined to prove Vash wrong; Literally cannot get enough of unconventional, incompatible plant stuff for Vash, so this was very fun

like the holding of hands (like the breaking of glass) by @flowercitti - 10k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash wakes up after the sandsteamer and faces Wolfwood's full knowledge of his inhumanness; (spoilers WW still thinks Vash is beautiful)

Where The Delicate Stops (Show Me) by @nexadarling - 10k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; Creature Vash; Predator/Prey; Wolfwood sets off Vash's competitive nature and gets chased through the woods. He likes it more than expected; shameless self-plug, I'm just real proud of this one

corsetry, couture, and how (not) to court your coworker by Umbr_el_on - 10k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Fashion; Fashion Designer Wolfwood; Model Vash; Wolfwood chooses Vash to debut his new creation, and he really does try so very hard to be professional about it; oooohh boy what a way for Vash to realize he has a huge thing for breathplay, damn

geoplant medicinals by @avoidingavoidance - 11k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Wolfwood accidentally gets soooo fucking high. Vash joins him and they have some frankly awesome sex; Wolfwood spends this whole fic being sickeningly in love with his boyfriend and thinking about how pretty Vash is and I love it

the sun is warm (i miss your smile) by mor (mornin) ( @bakubaji) - 12k; Vashwood; E; Vamp Vash/Vamp Hunter Wolfwood; Modern AU

with the same sweet shock of when Adam first came by feelingfoxylmao - 12k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - BDSM Scene; Wolfwood fucks up at the BDSM club and Vash (consensually and pre-scripted) teaches him his lesson; Dom Vash, Sub Wolfwood; Vash makes Wolfwood bark, what more could I possibly say to make you want to read this??? It's wonderful; slight secondhand embarrassment warning for the beginning where Wolfwood fucks up, but it's worth getting through, trust me

take my breaking heart (and tear it all apart) by johnnyfucksup - 12k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood tries not to let himself want. Enter Vash, who ruins those plans

Late Night Confessional by ValiantRose ( @sleepyartcryptid) - 12k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU I think?; Trans Wolfwood; Priest Wolfwood; Vash comes to confess his sins... he technically commits more instead, but who’s counting?

and our walls fall like jericho by thechaoscryptid - 12k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Wolfwood doesn't want. He doesn't. He doesn't. (He does); Every time Wolfwood tries so hard and fails at keeping down his affection for Vash I lose my goddamn mind

Like Eden by @RevenantPoet - 12k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash takes Wolfwood to the bio-dome on Ship 3, and they open up to each other a little more than he was expecting; Rev's poetry is so nice and the way they handle the intimacy between these two melts my brain a little. Both the sexual and emotional

Within Us An Orchard by plumtoad - 13k; Vashwood; E; Vash is a sad plant boi, so Wolfwood cheers him up feat. fruit

to control against the pull by catchatter ( @needlab7) - 13k; Vashwood; E; A/B/O; "Wolfwood tries to help out the bro and gets consumed with The Longing"; It is my personal mission to make everyone read this. Please, even if you don't like omegaverse just give it a chance I am begging you

I know I'm gonna die of this by @orcelito - 13k; Vashwood; E; T4T; Vash doesn't like to be touched during sex. He does, however, desperately want to fuck Wolfwood. Wolfwood shows him exactly how much he appreciates it; THE Strap Fic; the fact that this is part of a series based on Nothing But Thieves' song Impossible has me incredibly fucked up; Nico, darling, thank you for writing this, it was delightful

Give Me Mercy No More. by hollyleighannee ( @wytchsbrew) - 14k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Bodyguard Wolfwood; During a sandstorm, Vash spends a special night with his secret boyfriend; OH MAN OH GOD WOW; first of all this Wolfwood... I gotta go sit down for a second, damn; the sex is hot, but the emotions are hotter, Wolfwood is so careful to give Vash everything he wants and cares so much, they are both so in love; Holly your fics give me so much joy, I'm so sorry for decimating your notifications

sunshower by crocodile - 14k; Vashwood; E; Reincarnation AU; Friends With Benefits; Age Gap; 500 years later, Vash finds Wolfwood... kind of; look this is so good Vash has so many feelings, but Wolfwood is his own person, but he's also definitely Wolfwood and everything is different but nothing really is and aaaaaaahhhh

resurrection men by spicecandy - 14k; Vashwood; E; Reincarnation AU; Post-Trimax; Vash has a pull to him that Wolfwood can't ignore, something that makes him hang around town much longer than he normally would. He doesn't want to examine that too much; All the little hints of memory in this that Wolfwood doesn't catch and Vash balks over are my favorite

Amarillo Sky by just_a_lil_shipmate - 15k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy/Angel AU; Vash makes Wolfwood realize maybe he's not better off alone; this fic set off my obsession with cowboy Wolfwood…

try my hardest (if you ask me to) by nbagenda - 15k; Vashwood; E; the team stays at Ship 3, and Wolfwood has Feelings about everything being so clean (and so much gay panic about Vash); this one uses he/they interchangeably for Vash which I really really love

in love with my own sins by spicecandy ( @gaycowboyjesus) - 15k; Vashwood, Vash/Vash, Wolfwood/Wolfwood; E; Trimax VW meet Tristamp VW; listen the everything between everyone is so good but the romantic tension between Tristamp VW is so cute

Gun Barrel Red Hot by varelsen ( @cloudstrifing) - 17k; Vashwood; E; plant heat plant heat plant heat plant hea-; Wolfwood notices Vash is gone and goes to check on him. Naturally, he gets way more than he expected and lets go of some feelings in the process. Vash… maybe makes a little mistake about that later; eating this whole, just absolutely devouring it

Long Goodbyes by ChenamaReel - 17k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; After the Arc and before the orphanage, Vash and Wolfwood talk about the what-ifs of the future. With the knowledge of their respective missions, their normal flirting banter turns to something more real; crying sobbing, shoving this in your face

waking up in vegas by kae_karo - 17k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; They wake up married to each other in Vegas after a night they barely remember. They try to track down the chapel they got married in, but kinda don't wanna undo it by the end of the day; listen this is just so cute they’re so into each otheeerrrr

if you were church (I’d get on my knees) by iokanaan - 18k; Vashwood; E; T4T; Actual Priest Wolfwood, feat. trimax Vashwood as guardian angels (I have no excuse for this one but it goes really hard)

so i'll sing to the grave (put you back together) by desertblooms - 18k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Wolfwood doesn't feel worthy to touch Vash, so Vash shows him that's not true

you'll never get enough by tagteamme ( @phaltu) - 19k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Boxer/Gym; Wolfwood owns a gym that is under Nai's thumb, Vash is a regular at the gym and should be off limits; I have read this at least twice and it occasionally haunts my dreams

just a holy fool by @avoidingavoidance - 19k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Wolfwood is so upset about how much of a soft spot he has for Vash and Vash somehow makes it worse all the time always; sure Wolfwood, we all believe that you're annoyed with Vash and not stupidly in love with him

a kind heart to haunt by littleghost ( @ghostlandtoo) - 20k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy/Western AU; Wolfwood is an outlaw, Vash left that life a long time ago and doesn't want to get wrapped up in it again

laughter lines by @beesinspades - 21k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Ace Vash; Grey Ace Wolfwood; Knives sends Wolfwood to bring Vash back to him. Vash doesn't want to go. Wolfwood kind of doesn't want to make him; crying go read this i love it so much all of Bee's stuff brings me such joy

i’m here in search of your glory (there’s been a million before me) by @sascake - 22k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it feat. Wolfwood's entire orphanage

I'd Get Rid of the Sun in Favor of the Moonshine by FlowerFed - 22k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Coffeeshop/Cafe; Milly asks Vash to vouch for her ex so he can get a job at the same cafe as him, Vash meets a handsome stranger at the beach; surely there is no connection between these events…; (spoiler, there totally is and they’re super cute)

a tide of tender mercies by @gloriousporpoise - 23k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood and Vash are on the run after July, chasing bounties; Wolfwood finds himself in a bad way without his serum and gets taken care of (ha, take that, WW!); I'm a sucker for Wolfwood pining hopelessly after Vash and this is just the perfect mix of pining and his snark

sun comin' up by amaiyo - 23k; Vashwood; E; Mermaid AU; Modern AU; Wolfwood is a priest assigned to a tiny island, and sometimes he stands on the pier at night to listen to the strange songs on the ocean wind; Vash is just uncanny enough in this to sate my need for creature Vash, and they’re just so gone on each other

today, and all of the days by @pushclouds - 24k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash owns a donut shop, Wolfwood owns a smoke shop/bar; Vash doesn't realize they're definitely dating; pls Vash spends the whole time being like “ah yes a business partnership” meanwhile Wolfwood is like… just trying to go on dates with his boyfriend? They’re so fucking stupid

Wanna be your sin, I wanna be a preacher by oh_imintrouble - 24k; Vashwood; E; Trans Vash; Modern AU; Dirtbag Wolfwood tbh; Vash is on the run from Knives and meets Wolfwood, who takes care (and takes care) of him when he's attacked and helps him run; Look okay, Wolfwood is so gross in this, like objectively, I don't think he's ever not been high on something and his mattress is on the floor, he carries a hammer for fuck's sake, just to bash people's heads in, but damn if I wouldn't do some questionable shit for a shot with him

Ascension Day by farseersfool ( @birdadjacent) - 26k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU (but still Plant powers); Wolfwood is a hitman hired by Nai to protect Vash. Surely keeping his mark as close as physically possible is only the logical thing to do. Right? Right.

stop me if you've heard this all before by molotovhappyhour - 27k; Vashwood; E; Canon Divergence; Time Traveler Vash; but only in like small increments; Vash has Rules to avoid trouble with his power. Wolfwood makes him want to break... maybe all of them; Eating this whole, shoving it into my mouth; The way Wolfwood is handled here and how his backstory is changed makes me crazy, I love it

Deep Cuts by megumiblues - 27k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Trans Vash; Vash is used to carrying many monikers. El Diablo, Humanoid Typhoon, the things he is called are never good. Wolfwood seems to see him differently for some reason; Get understood and cared for, idiot; Love a touch-starved VW

dance in our catastrophe by @pushclouds - 28k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it; Wolfwood and Vash are stuck in a safe house together, what could possibly go wrong?!; Wolfwood's inner monologue in this is so delightful and sad, they (definitely totally platonically) cuddle to keep the Horrors away, and there is at least one (1) playfight that Wolfwood has to end in a panic cause he gets horny about it

The Lord Won’t Forgive Me (But My Angel Will) by natumn - 28k; Vashwood; E; Eriks Vash ❤️; Two years after July, Wolfwood drunkenly stumbles right into Eriks and Lena, and they take him home so he can recover. He stays with them for a while, but Vash never could run from the EoM forever; Eriks feels always fuck me up, I love making Wolfwood face his desire for domesticity, and Lena is perfect and precious

four suns by Joelene - 31k; Vashwood; E; Trimax Vashwood and Tristamp Vashwood meet in the middle of the desert!!; This is genuinely very cute as well as hot, I reread this immediately after finishing it lol; Trimax Vashwood being competitive and then getting lost in themselves is so precious; Wolfwood begging will always be my downfall; They all fuck, but they don't fuck each other. Like each version Vashwood stays together. They do all make out with their own alternative versions, so do with that what you will I guess

you're a canary (i'm a coal mine) by PotatoButt ( @rubyredgh0st) - 32k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Zoo keeper Vash; Orphanage Worker Wolfwood; Wolfwood brings his kids to see the tomas show, but sometimes he comes alone to watch the cute handler; Brad is so protective here I love him actually

Amazing Grace by jjAfterHours - 33k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU- Ranch; Rancher Wolfwood; Livestock Vet Vash; When Wolfwood calls his normal vet, they tell him she's out of town, but they can send a replacement. Wolfwood kinda maybe finds every excuse to get him back on the ranch; Once again my favorite flavor of VW!!! Wolfwood is fucking in it, and Vash is trying and failing to hold him at arm's length

Angiosperm by somarysueme - 33k; Vashwood (background and later chapter Polygun); E; Post-Trimax; Wolfwood is brought back with some fun... extras, courtesy of the Plants. He and Vash now also have regular... heats? Mating seasons? There are eggs involved; Look okay, hear me out! If you don't like the idea of oviposition, maybe skip this one?? But if you do.... It's Egg Time

blood in the badlands by eviscerates - 34k; Vashwood; E; Vampire Vash/Vampire Hunter Wolfwood on NML; the Eye of Michael is a hunter group, Wolfwood is not supposed to have feelings for Vash

I'm not a Psycho (I'm Just Trying to Get Laid) by @inkfishie - 34k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Various times Vash and Wolfwood have... encounters. Feat. Vash's emotions and awkwardness; this is so cuteeee

At the Top of the World by Insomniac_with_dreams - 35k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy AU; Wolfwood follows a help-wanted ad and finds himself at the Saverem ranch for the summer. He gets... more than he bargained for; God above please read this it's so beautiful and heartfelt and wonderful and they love each other so much fuck

CAUSE OF DEATH (See instructions and examples) by neatrogenous ( @floofyfluff) - 39k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it, but Vash runs faster than the Flash from every single Emotion he's ever had (body horror cw for the first chapter)

i think that we should go and get you out of here by molotovhappyhour - 39k; Vashwood; E; Exorcist Wolfwood AU; Wolfwood travels to July to help rid them of a haunting that's taken root there for years, Vash is, of course, at the center of it; the writing in this is so beautiful and haunting and perfectly disorienting during the spookier parts it’s so good

inter paradisum et infernum by itsacoup - 39k; Vashwood; E; Wild West AU; Preacher Wolfwood; Outlaw Vash; Wolfwood takes protecting his flock very seriously, and when Vash rolls into town, he is determined to do just that. Damn if Vash being so attractive and such a match for him doesn't make that difficult though; The way canon elements of their story and background are mixed into the world-building of this is so delicious; They really are drawn to each other in every life

Saturdays at 6 p.m. by maginot - 42k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash reaches out to professional Dom Wolfwood to ask if he's taking on new subs. Wolfwood realizes he's fucked as soon as Vash walks through his front door; Okay yes this is kinky in the sense that it is an actual, structured BDSM relationship, but it's actually not the kinkiest thing on here??? It is absolutely delightfully spicy and sweet though. And watching Wolfwood fall apart about actually falling for Vash is so fucking GOOD; also vash's pain kink has me on the fucking floor dear god

sugar rush by corvidcaper ( @not-miss-marple) - 42k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash owns a candy shop; Friends with benefits to lovers; Everyone knows they’re dating except the two of them, and goddamn does Wolfwood try to keep it casual; Spoiler, it is anything but casual lol

in the woods somewhere by halfdemonvash - 42k; Vashwood; E; Fantasy AU; cottagecore; Vash finds Wolfwood injured in his forest and takes him to his home to nurse him back to health. Wolfwood... kinda really loves it. Even if he wasn't entirely there on accident

giving in to your fever touch by honeyseeking ( @sweetyuris) - 46k; Vashwood; E; Trimax/98; Wolfwood finds Vash as Eriks and gives him three days to make up his mind; *violently shaking this fic* it's so full of emotions

Pillow Talk by fantasy_stupid - 47k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Nai sends Wolfwood to secretly trail Vash and make sure he's safe while Nai is gone. Vash clocks him immediately and they try to make the best of it; bodyguard Wolfwood you have my heart and soul

by the time the apocalypse began by everythingeverything (yiqie) ( @englishsub) - 50k; Vashwood; E; Sci-fi AU; Spaceship Mechanic Wolfwood; Wolfwood's crew picks up what they think is a distress signal and follow it to it's source; I really can't do this fic justice with a summary without spoilers but like!!! Vash and Wolfwood stuck on a planet together!!! I love them!!!!!!!

The Lighthouse by EloFromMars - 51k; Vashwood; E; Lighthouse guy Wolfwood; Eldritch Horror Vash; legitimate lovecraftian level eldritch horror but like.... Vash is still a baby girl and Wolfwood is still into it; honorary mention for Kuroneko

Citronella by @canyondotcom - 58k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vampire AU; Creature Vash; Woodworker Wolfwood; Wolfwood wakes up in the middle of the night to something--no, someone on his porch. Against his better judgment, he lets them in... Things get... Interesting; Uuggggghhhhh God this is so good I love creature Vash and the vampire lore is so unique and non-traditional I love it so much

song of solomon 4:7 by ellisisntreal - 68k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Trans Vash; A cute new neighbor moves in across from Wolfwood, one who he quickly realizes is the hottest DILF ever and exactly his type; listen. LISTEN! This is so good, Vash's kid is 13, so he's old enough to be funny and snarky, Vash and Wolfwood's banter is amazing, and scenes with all three of them (and eventually Livio) are actually so funny I was wheezing. Idk how you write dialog so real and hilarious, but I had a grand fucking time

Strawberries & Cigarettes by Umbr_el_on - 71k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Tattoo shop/Flower shop; "No, seriously, Livio, it's just casual, it doesn't mean anything, stop"; several days later: *calls Livio crying about how much Vash makes him feel*; and that's it that's the fic; I like that they're both broken and fucked up here, and they make mistakes and piss each other off, but they continue to choose to try together. It just makes me really happy. They aren't perfect but they're perfect together

A Step By Step Guide to Love and Peace, Written by Vash Saverem (Co-Authored by Friends, Family, and Nicholas D. Wolfwood) by calandos - 71k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Fleabag; Trans Vash; Priest Wolfwood; It's fucking.... it's a fleabag AU idk how much harder I can sell this I clicked immediately when I saw the tag; yeah, it has the confession scene; this made me want to cry. I may have actually cried; god I relate to Vash so much

someone to last your whole life by catchatter ( @needlab7) - 73k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it, with deep attention to the realities of mourning and what it means to have mourned someone who is no longer dead; genuinely one of the most beautiful things I have ever read

Trillium and Ivy by @shastafirecracker - 80k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Funeral Director Wolfwood; Garden Center Vash; Wolfwood works at a funeral home across from the garden center, and notices the cute co-owner; this one is a personal favorite it makes me feel insane if I think about it too long

Someone's hand opens (I hold it) by tytonidae - 80k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax Alternate Timeline; Wolfwood and the girls don't meet Vash until long after the events of Trimax; the world building 🤌🏽 the bonding 🤌🏽 the EoM lore 🤌🏽

Wildflowers by @shastafirecracker - 103k; Vashwood; E; Dark Fantasy AU; cottagecore; Trans Wolfwood; Wolfwood is sent to kill the Beast Lord of the forest and gets far more than he bargained for; dear fucking God please read this holy shit I cannot overstate how good the world building is

How Easy You Are To Need by @nexadarling - 10k+; Vashwood; E; Plant Heat; Vash goes into heat when he's in the middle of the desert with Wolfwood. He really does try so hard to keep him from finding out

Daylily by @needlesknives (bakusboi) - 10k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Tattoo shop; Vash comes to Wolfwood wanting to get his scarring covered with tattoos, Wolfwood realizes this project entails a lot more than he anticipated. In several ways

honeysuckle red by @beelzebby666 - 43k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Line Cook Wolfwood (yes it's important shut up); A one night stand turns into Wolfwood spending so much time with Vash and his fucking garden (why does he like bees so much I love him????); Wolfwood just wants to be kept. He just wants to be kept!!!

la vache! by @skittidyne - 28k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Sex Work; Sex Worker Vash; Trans Vash; Wolfwood needs to learn French very quickly since he promised Livio he would and then procrastinated till the last moment. He finds his solution in Vash's... unique way of teaching (it might involve dildos); I'm rabid over the fact there are not more chapters of this

save a horse by ofxanadu - 37k+; Vashwood; E; Western AU; Trans Vash; Wolfwood saves Vash from getting mugged by the Bad Lads Gang and has a night so memorable he's hung up on it for almost a year when Vash shows up again; i cannot even put into words my thoughts on this fic I'm just making feral sounds about how much I love it

If you know me no you don't!

Come tell me your opinions about all of these my DMs are open I promise

#trigun #vash the stampede #wolfwood #vash #trigun stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun maximum #trimax #vashwood #fanfic #AUs #Trans Vash #Trans Wolfwood #T4T vashwood #fic rec

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