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misswynters · 3 months ago

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Holiday in Spain modern au

Cregan Stark x afab!reader x Jace Velaryon

[WARNING: mature/explicit (minors dni) 18+, kissing, touching, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving)

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The sun was beginning to set as the plane touched down in Málaga, casting a warm, golden hue over the Spanish coastline. You, Cregan, and Jace had been planning this holiday for months, eager to escape the daily grind and bask in the beauty of the Costa del Sol.

As the three of you stepped out of the airport, the balmy evening air greeted you, a pleasant change from the dreary weather back home. Cregan, ever the planner, had arranged for a rental car, and soon you were driving along the scenic coastal roads toward the villa you had rented.

“Look at that view,” you marveled, gazing out at the shimmering Mediterranean Sea. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“Just wait until we get to the villa,” Jace said from the backseat, his excitement palpable. “The photos online looked incredible.”

When you arrived at the villa, it was everything you had hoped for and more. Nestled on a hillside, it offered stunning views of the ocean, with a spacious terrace, a private pool, and elegant, modern interiors. The three of you quickly settled in, eager to start your vacation.

That evening, after a delicious dinner of local tapas and a few glasses of wine, you retired to the terrace to watch the sunset. The sky was ablaze with colors, a breathtaking end to a perfect day.

Cregan leaned on the railing next to you, his eyes on the horizon. “This place is amazing,” he said softly. “I’m so glad we decided to come here.”

“Me too,” you agreed, turning to look at him. The setting sun cast a warm glow on his features, highlighting the lines of his strong jaw and the intensity of his eyes. You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jace joined you on the other side, his presence adding to the comforting warmth. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice soft. “Couldn’t have asked for better company either.”

As the last light faded, the atmosphere between the three of you shifted. The air grew thicker, charged with an unspoken tension. Cregan moved closer, his arm brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Jace’s hand gently touched your back, his fingers tracing small circles that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Cregan murmured, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “Do what?”

He turned to face you fully, his gaze locking onto yours. “This,” he said, leaning in slowly.

Your breath hitched as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the three of you in the quiet night. You could feel the heat radiating from both of their bodies, the promise of something more lingering in the air.

Cregan's lips hovered just a whisper away from yours, his breath mingling with your own. Jace's hand slid from your back to your waist, pulling you closer to both of them. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation.

Just as Cregan's lips were about to meet yours, Jace's voice broke the silence, his tone deep and filled with longing. “We’ve waited long enough,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

The sudden sound of a door creaking open inside the villa shattered the moment. You all jumped back, the tension hanging in the air as the spell was broken. Cregan's eyes, still dark with desire, met yours, and then flicked to Jace's.

"We should probably check that out," Cregan said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. "Yeah, we should."

The three of you headed inside, the charged atmosphere lingered, the promise of what could have been hanging in the air.

As you three looked for the source of the noise throughout the house, there was a small noise coming from the kitchen. Meow.

It was a cat, that was the source what scared the living crap out of you. You pointed with your finger at the small creature, looking over at cregan and jace.

“It was a cat” you said with a slight distaste. It had ruined the whole moment. And you didn’t know when it could come again. Stupid cat.

⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

It was a beautiful summer day in at the beach, the sun shining brightly over the golden sands of the beach. You, Cregan, and Jace had decided to enjoy the warm weather and the serene beauty of the Mediterranean coast. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, mingling with the laughter of children and the distant hum of conversations. Though surprisingly there was no one around.

You had chosen a particularly revealing swimsuit for the occasion, a sleek, form-fitting piece that left little to the imagination. As you emerged from your beach hut, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over your curves, you could feel the eyes of your companions on you. Jace's gaze lingered over your body, and you noticed the way he subtly adjusted himself, trying to hide the growing bulge in his swim trunks. Cregan, standing beside him, chuckled softly at his friend's reaction, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Enjoying the view, Jace?" Cregan teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Jace blushed but didn't look away. "Can you blame me?" he muttered, his voice thick with admiration.

You walked over to them, a playful smile on your lips. "Are you two ready to hit the water?" you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Jace cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. "Absolutely."

The three of you made your way down to the water's edge, the hot sand shifting beneath your feet. The cool, refreshing waves lapped at your ankles as you stepped into the sea, the water a welcome relief from the heat of the sun.

You waded in deeper, the water rising to your waist, then your chest, until you were fully submerged, only your head and shoulders visible above the surface.

Cregan and Jace joined you, splashing and laughing as they played in the water. The sun glinted off their wet skin, highlighting the strong, lean muscles of their bodies. You couldn't help but admire them, the way they moved with such confidence and ease. As you swam and played, you could feel their eyes on you, a constant, heated presence that sent shivers down your spine despite the warmth of the water.

After a while, you all made your way back to the beach, lying down on the soft towels you had spread out on the sand. The sun beat down on you, warming your skin as you relaxed, feeling the tension melt away from your muscles. Cregan lay beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, while Jace stretched out on your other side, his arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

"How about some dessert?" Cregan suggested after a while, propping himself up on one elbow. "There's an ice cream stand just up the beach."

You nodded eagerly. "That sounds perfect."

The three of you made your way to the ice cream stand, the tantalizing smell of sweet, creamy treats filling the air. You browsed the selection, your eyes lighting up when you spotted your favorite flavor. You ordered a cone, the rich, velvety ice cream swirled high and topped with a cherry.

As you walked back to your spot on the beach, you couldn't help but notice the way Cregan and Jace watched you, their eyes dark with desire. You took a slow, deliberate lick of your ice cream, savoring the taste. The action was innocent enough, but the way you did it, the way your tongue flicked over the creamy surface, made it seem almost provocative.

Cregan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you, a predatory gleam in his gaze. You glanced over at Jace, who was staring at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building between the three of you, a palpable heat that had nothing to do with the sun.

Jace was the first to act, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck. His lips were warm and gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. You tilted your head to give him better access, your breath hitching as his kisses grew more passionate. His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin with a reverence that made you ache for more.

Cregan moved closer, his eyes locked on yours as he knelt in front of you. He began to kiss your thighs, his lips trailing a path of fire over your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hand tangling in his hair as he lifted one of your legs to his shoulder, his mouth working its way higher and higher until he reached the edge of your

The sensation was driving you insane, a delicious blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you trembling.

Cregan's grip tightened on your thigh as he began to lap at your core through the thin fabric, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot with expert precision. He hummed in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Meanwhile, Jace continued his assault on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he left love bites in his wake. His hands slid under your swimsuit, teasing and stroking your breasts until you were writhing between the two of them, lost in a sea of sensation.

Cregan's tongue worked its magic, his movements growing more urgent as he felt you getting closer to the edge. He sucked and licked with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on.

The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to sweep you away completely.

Jace's kisses became more frantic, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. He nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "Let go, love. We've got you."

And with that, you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body arching off the sand as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Cregan's tongue never stopped, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy until you were left trembling and spent.

As you came down from your high, Cregan and Jace held you close, their hands soothing and comforting as you caught your breath. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach.

The three of you lay there, tangled together in a blissful heap, the sound of the waves lulling you into a state of contentment.

Eventually, you sat up, feeling a bit dazed but incredibly happy. Cregan and Jace helped you to your feet, their hands gentle and protective. You glanced at them, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Best holiday ever," you said, your voice filled with genuine joy.

Cregan chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'd have to agree."

Jace grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Let's make sure we do this again."

And as the three of you walked back to your beach house, the sun dipping below the horizon, you were anticipating more.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @thornsandtulips @travelingmypassion @shoxji

banner: @cafekitsune

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #house targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan x y/n #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #modern au #cregan smut #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #hotd smut

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ladylooch · 2 years ago

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Nico Hischier smut with maybe honeymoon sex? he loves calling you Mrs.Hischier and falls in love with the matching wedding bands

A/N: K yes. Like.. I saw the first sentence and was 100% invested in this. Mostly because I planned doing some sort of honeymoon smut for What My World Spins Around AU. But also because who doesn't want what's below this cut??? So here we go. We can always go back to the wedding if we want to 😉

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUTTTT (18+ Content)

Salty ocean air mixes with warm coffee in the early morning. The sunlight glitters off the sea as I savor the quiet moment by myself. Nico and I got married two days ago. It’s hard to believe the day already came and went, even as the large, diamond rimmed wedding band weighs my left hand down. We had everything we needed. Great company, incredible food, flowing drinks, and willing wedding guests that kept the party going well past 3 am. Nico and I were in a daze when we got to the Costa Brava region of Spain yesterday. We collapsed into bed, curled into each other and slept until this morning.

We rented a private villa along the coast with gorgeous Mediterranean views. The villa has five bedrooms, a large kitchen, multiple living spaces, and a pool-hot tub salt water combination that looks to die for. I am itching to get in there. I bring my coffee to my lips again, looking over my shoulder into the bedroom. Nico is there, stretched out on his stomach, arms crunching the pillow under his head. His few days of stubble and long eye lashes make his dreamy, prince charming look complete. The comforter has slid down his back to just below his hips. My eyes focus on the two distinct ridges of muscle that come together in a V there before disappearing beneath his boxer briefs.

The pool isn’t the only thing I’m itching for.

Weddings are a whirlwind of fun and exhaustion, so was getting here from Switzerland, and we haven’t had a chance to celebrate intimately. I look down at the robe I’m wearing, grinning at the white, provocative lingerie that waits for him whenever he decides to join me.

I don’t have to wait much longer. The sun shifts up the bed into his face and he squints out at me. When our gazes connect, I give him a coy smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Hischier.” He bites down on his bottom lip, tossing the comforter to the side and strutting towards me. He looks so damn good- toned and hard, but safe. He comes to the table, resting a hand on it and the back of my chair to enclose me into our kiss.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hischier.” He murmurs against my lips. His tongue snakes out, gently gliding along the seam of my lips. “Ooo, that coffee tastes good on you.” He licks his lips, reaching for the cup I extend to him. He takes a sip and closes his eyes in a brief moment of appreciation.

When he hands me the cup back, he sees a peak of my white bra. His fingers hook into the shoulder of my robe, pushing the fabric down to expose more of the top. His eyebrows peak in excitement as he runs a finger along the taut white strap, down my chest to run along the top of my right breast. Goosebumps pebble along my chest, following his finger as it moves to the other swell. My nipples tighten into hard buds against the lace fabric. Each of Nico’s fingers trail over them causing a feminine grunt to drop from my mouth. He loosens the tie of my robe to see the rest of the set. Two, thin bands hold the panties in place- one around my natural waist and one around my hips. The piece is finished off with white lace along the front and not much on the back.

“You’re going to be worth the wait, aren’t you baby?” He asks me, pushing the robe off my other shoulder.

“You tell me.” I whisper.

He kneels down on the ground to get level with me. His hands gently glide my legs apart so he can come closer. I watch his approach with hooded eyes. His head dips, lips pressing gentle smooches along my large, plumped breasts. My eyes close completely, fingers racing through his hair to gently scratch at his scalp.

He grabs the straps of my panties in his hands, pulling them off my legs to expose me to him and the ocean air. My chest is rising and falling in anticipation as he takes in the view.

“Mrs. Hischier, you’re soaked for me.”

“Make me come, babe.” I beg him as he takes his time raking his gaze over me.

“Right here?” He acts all scandalous. “Where the neighbors can hear?”

“Yes, please.”

“Mmm, only since you asked so nicely.” He chuckles. His large palms slide under me, gliding against the seat until he takes my full ass cheeks in his hands. He brings me slightly up to his mouth. I think he’s going to tease me, but he doesn’t. His full lips close over my clit, suckling my slick flesh into his mouth. My eyes close, then burst open in excitement as he laps his tongue generously against my folds. My inner muscles pulse, catching his attention. He glides a finger through my excitement, smearing it up my folds until I’m equally soaked all over. “You look so pretty, baby. All wet and pink, wearing my ring.”

This for the rest of my life? Fuck.

I drape my leg over his shoulder. His left hand moves from my ass, dragging his fingertips down my thigh. Each inch of my leg savors the coolness of his wedding band. It’s a new, exquisite feeling that I’m not sure I want to get used to. It accelerated the desire bursting through my veins. I look down at him working his mouth on me. He looks so good. He pulls away to focus his tongue against my clit. I snap my head back between my shoulder blades, howling to the sky.

“Little quieter, sweets.” Nico snickers against my quivering folds.

“No, It’s too good.” I moan as he works his tongue in just the right rhythm.

“Tell me more.”

“You’re perfect, Neeks. Please don’t stop. Fuck.” My body trembles as I feel the orgasm begin to descend. It starts from my core, slowly leaking, begging Nico for more as I push his face deeper in with my left hand. My wedding rings shimmers in the morning sunlight against his dark hair. I jolt, abdomen tightening, then turning into pudding as I come loudly and wetly against his face. Nico kisses me through the aftershocks, working his lips up the thigh still draped around his shoulder.

“I’m going to worship you like that forever.” He promises me as he places my leg back on the ground.

He stands, sporting a seriously large erection, reaching down to wrap his arms around my waist. He lifts me into his arms, carrying me back inside the bedroom where he tosses me onto my back, then nudges me to roll to my stomach. He hovers above me at the side of the bed, looking down at my spread legs, flushed cheeks, rapid breathing and wild hair. He likes what he sees, grinning, as he leans over me, underwear removed to slide into me.

As he pushes into my wet heat, he laces our left hands together. Our matching rings catch one another with his first thrust into me. I lay my head back against his shoulder as he begins to pump steadily. My teeth annihilate my bottom lip at the pleasure sweeping through my body. My breasts get heavy, begging for release into the air- for someone to touch them. I reach back half-heartedly to unclasp the band. Nico bats my hand away, undoing the hooks with his expert touch. My breasts bound free. Nico’s hand comes around, stroking my right nipple as he pushes deeper.

“Ohmygod.” I groan, letting my forehead fall to the bed. I arch my back into his thrusts as he increases his motion. He is pounding forcefully into me, giving me everything he’s got as the pent up emotions and celebration and lust guide his aggressive hips.

“Wish you could see how beautiful you look taking me like this.”

That gets me.

Stars explode behind my screwed shut eye lids as I come on him. I’m so loud. Swear words and groans fall from my lips as my breathing hitches higher and higher. I can feel his grin on my shoulder as he fucks me harder. I jolt, feeling a second orgasm come just after the first, making me wiggle against his firm grasp on my hips. He doesn’t relent, pushing us both over the edge again as I feel my overstimulated muscles grip his sputtering cock.

“Fuuuuuck.” Nico yells, slapping his hands over mine as he jerks his hips into me a final time. “Baby.” He moans when he is done. I can’t respond. My face is shoved so deep into the mattress that I can’t breathe or speak and I don’t care. He tries to pull out and my muscles clench in protest. He coasts himself back in, working himself out slower in small, gentle thrusts. “You’re not done with me?” He asks, reaching a hand around to grope my breast., thumbing my nipple into a hard peak.

“Not even close.” I say as I snap my head up hair whipping against his face as he jolts back in surprise. “Fuck me like that again.”

“I need a minute.” He says, eyes wide at my reaction. He strokes his hand along his softening cock, eyes glinting as he watches the fire in my eyes. “Who is this?” His smirk has me licking my lips greedily.

“Nico Hischier’s hot wife. You going to take care of me like you promised?” I challenge.

He launches forward, silencing any other words that want to come out of my mouth.

We don’t see much of Spain after that.

I’m a bit disappointed on the flight back to Switzerland, but Nico assures me we’ll be back again soon.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier fan fiction #nico hischier smut #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #my writing #writing requests #New Jersey devils

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mapileonxputellas · 2 years ago

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Newbie (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

Sorry my writing will definitely be less frequent over the next few weeks! A little fic/ficlet for you all. Please send requests for any players (I also have a love for whole team fics) Request can be found here. 1.5k words.

You hated missing any international break, especially for something minor. In the final game before you were due to join the team for the November you managed to slightly strain your thigh, nothing serious but enough to force you to pull out of the upcoming matches.

Having just moved to Barcelona in the summer this was the first real break you were having since the week off you had between winning the Euro’s and moving to Spain. You were going to just rest up in your apartment when Patri and Claudia basically forced you to join them for a long weekend away with their extended group of friends, including most of the Spanish girls currently excluded from the national team.

All of that led you to sunbathing in the incredible villa they had rented out, not a care in the world with a vodka in one hand and your book in the other.

Just as you were dozing off there was a shout from the villa door. “Who’s ready to party?” You were of course aware of the party animal that was Leile Ouahabi having made the reverse move from her this summer.

Your eyes never once left the bronzed beauty in just her bikini as she went round saying hello to everyone.

“Hola, I’m Y/N.” You stood up when she got to you, placing a kiss on both of her cheeks. “You look great.”

“Lets not pretend I don’t know who you are, they practically worship you back in Manchester. I’m Leila.”

“Well Leila I can’t wait to show you my other skills.”

“Like what?”

You leaned in so only she could hear you, but that meant pressing your bodies together. You could almost sense her raised heartbeat as your bare skin touched one another’s, her breath fanning against your cheek. “Cocktail making, I make a great Sex On The Beach.”

“Maybe I should try it.”

“Maybe you should.”

You didn’t know what had come over you. It was always your one rule in football: don’t act on any feelings whether they’re your teammate or not. You’d seen the way failed relationships (and even just one-night lusts) had ruined friendships before and you never wanted to be the cause of that.

Having said that it didn’t stop you teasing Leila throughout the afternoon. Always choosing her as your partner in any ball games, stealing looks at her when you thought she wasn’t looking and it didn’t stop you bringing her in for an extra-long hug to celebrate winning the game when a simple handshake would have been enough.

“So how are you finding Barcelona?” Leile asked as you sunbathed together once everyone had settled down.

“I love the city, the people and lovely and the weather is much better than in England.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve just come from 5 days of rain. How is your Spanish?”

“Probably worse than your English.”

“Patri mentioned you’d just got a new tattoo.”

“You talking about me?”

The nervous look on her face just made your smirk even more, they’d definitely mentioned you were coming to her. “I was just telling her I wanted another tattoo and-“

“Do you want to see them?”

“If you want to.” Which obviously meant yes. You didn’t mind though, you loved showing off each and every one of the tattoos that were spread over your body. From the rose behind your ear to the football on your ankle.

“You have to be lucky to see the last one.”

“Why? Where is it?”

“That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

….

The group had decided to go for a meal and then clubbing on the first night, of course meaning there were varying times to get ready. You were noticeably one of the last to get ready along with Claudia, the two of you one of the last to go in to get ready.

That however left Leila free to question your teammates.

“Is she like that with everyone?” Leila questioned Mapi as the two waited for the rest of the group. “She’s very… forward?”

“She’s confident with everyone but not like she was with you. She was definitely flirting.”

“She wasn’t.”

“Fine then, Pat.” Mapi shouted over her fellow Barcelona teammate and one of your best friends at the club. “Tell her how obvious it was that Y/N was flirting.”

“She was definitely into you.”

“She’s hot.” Leila couldn’t help but admit the obvious. “Like stunning. She’s not like with anybody is she?”

“Not that I know of.” Patri answered. “She’s professional though, when she’s at training or before games she’s always really serious. It was only really on the first night out that she really opened up and became out friends.”

“So she never talks about a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

“She never really talks about anyone. No-one’s ever been with her family when she’s brought them to games.”

“Have fun. It’s only one weekend.” Mapi said. “If you don’t work then you never have to see each other again and if you do like her then see how it goes.”

“We’re not all like you Mapi, we don’t fall in love after one day.”

“Maybe, maybe not though.”

Their conversation was halted by the sound of heels clicking down the stairs, yourself and Claudia coming into view. You loved the footballing lifestyle but you also loved getting glam and that meant you’d taken this opportunity to put on your best dress. A wispy pink mini dress which just grazed the top of your thigh.

“Hola.” You greeted the group, quickly swiping Leila’s drink out of her hand and taking a sip from the straw. Your eyes never leaving her own as your lips were placed where her’s once was. “Thanks babe.”

“No-no worries.”

…..

Of course at the restaurant you chose the seat next to Leila, the two of you immediately engaging in conversation almost forgetting about the rest of your table.

“Did you move to Barcelona on your own?” Leila questioned you as you shared the sushi platter between you both.

“I did, of course having Keira and Lucy there helped but yeah just me.”

“I bet you have loads of visitors though.”

“I mean my parents and sisters have come out but no-one else.” Even though you’ve only just met her, you already felt comfortable in her presence, your arm coming to rest over the top of her chair as your fingertips glided over her shoulder.

“Do you miss home then, leaving everyone behind?”

You weren’t stupid, you could tell where she was going with this but you were going to make her work for it. “FaceTime is a great thing.”

“For everything?”

“Great for talking, I don’t know what you’re doing on FaceTime Leila but I don’t need to do anything else.”

“Maybe I can persuade you to do something else.” The Manchester City defender took your initiative, her hand sliding over to rest on your bare thigh. “You look incredible tonight by the way.”

“So do you.” You weren’t exactly lying, the crop top and shorts combo suited her. “There’s no-one else by the way. No girl, or guy, at home or in Barcelona.”

“That’s good.”

“Who for?”

“Me.”

As the night continued on the two of you seemed to be joined at the hip. Whether that was sat together in your table at the club to dancing together. If you were there you could guarantee Leila was less than a foot away. Your hand was a permanent fixture on her hip, her arm looping round your neck as you danced together.

Every inhibition you had couldn’t be further from you right now. Happily moving your body close to her own. Not a care in the world who was watching or where you were.

“Come with me.” You were surprised when she made the first, or final, move. Simply giving you that instruction and guiding you to the bathroom in the corner of the club, her hand clasped in your own as you made your way through the crowds.

“Where are you two going?” Mapi questioned as you moved past her.

“Nowhere.” You mumbled as Leila ignored the question, a speed to her step as she stopped for no-one. Her only goal to get you two alone.

You’d barely closed the door before her lips were on your own, cornering you against the counter as her lips assaulted your own. It was like she’d known you forever, her body insanely aware of your own needs as the two of you kissed. You’d never had a first kiss like this, a representation of your continuous flirting and connection throughout the night.

“How about I take you up on that cocktail offer? I hear you like a bit of Sex on the Beach,”

“Maybe then I’ll show you my final tattoo.”

#man city women #man city women x reader #man city #man city women imagine #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni imagine

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lionlena · 1 year ago

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4. Too hot (JaviGxreader) - one-shot

The fourth one shot of one shots week.

Summary: It's hot... too hot, and your loved one has chosen the worst weekend to spend away from an air-conditioned villa. He'll have to help you get through this.

Warnings: none, just fluff

You loved Javi. You really loved him. But sometimes you hated him. Or rather, his obsession with Nicolas Cage movies… and his obsession with movies in general.

This obsession has led you to your current situation. It was blisteringly hot all over Spain, and instead of sitting in an air-conditioned villa or in a swimming pool, You were standing on some goddamn hill and dying.

But why?

Because Javi decided to spend the weekend showing you where some movie was shot. At this point, you really didn't care what movie it was.

You watched with blurred eyes as Javi waved his hands in excitedly.

"And right there. Standing right there, he said..." He stopped suddenly and looked at you carefully. "Mi amor, are you listening to me?"

"NO!" You groaned in tears and just sat down on the ground.

You've had enough of everything. You were already so tired and you just discovered that you ran out of water. Javi immediately knelt down beside you and gently cupped your face in his hands.

"You seem so hot."

"Because it's hot," you gasped and pushed his hands away.

You didn't want to act like a spoiled child, but you were really tired. Javi looked at you sadly. And oh my god… Those eyes tore your heart apart. He looked like a kicked puppy.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I love your passion for movies but... I really don't feel well and your hands are too warm."

Javi nodded. "No, I'm sorry, Princessa. I should take better care of you. Let me fix it."

He got up and held out his hand to help you up. You thought you'd pass out on the way to the car, but with Javi's help, you made it. Javi turned the car's air conditioning on full blast and took you to the little house you'd been renting for the weekend. Of course no air conditioning.

Once inside, Javi immediately led you to the couch and said, "Sit down and relax. I'll take care of everything."

He covered all the windows, turned on the fan, and brought you cold juice with ice cubes. You sighed in relief and stretched out on the couch. You closed your eyes and felt Javi lay down next to you and you winced. You pulled away from him a bit and groaned.

"What's the matter, honey?" He asked.

"Your body is too hot," you murmured.

He winked at you and said, "Normally you don't mind."

"Normally I'm not one step away from heatstroke."

Javi sighed heavily and kissed you. "I have an idea," he said. "Wait here a minute."

"I'm not going to move," you replied.

Your boyfriend ran somewhere. You thought about it for a moment but finally closed your eyes.

A few minutes later, Javi came back to you. He was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and his cute curls were wet. You felt that his skin was cool as he hugged you.

"Javi," you murmured. "Did you take an ice-cold shower?"

He chuckled lightly and pecked you on the cheek. "Do you like it?"

"Very much" you purred.

You hugged him tightly and ran one hand through his hair.

"Now finish what you said on the hill. Tell me about that scene."

You immediately noticed how his eyes lit up with excitement. You really loved him… Even if he nearly made you die of heatstroke.

Tag list: @creedslove

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi g fanfiction #the unbearable weight of massive talent #fluff

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star-quill · 1 year ago

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woah just had a thought.....

dating neighbour!peter in secret and wanting to go on holiday with him. you both discuss it and he ends up renting a private villa on the south coast of spain. you tell your parents you're going away with your friends and they just make sure you're all set and packed, ready to go. peter makes sure he offers you a lift to the airport, telling your parents he's visiting family across the country and so it's more convenient for you to ride with him. and your parents don't suspect a thing.

you're so giddy on the car ride over to the airport and peter just chuckles, one of his hands on your thigh.

"alright baby.. alright.. someone's a little excited.."

"pete.. it's our first trip away.. of course i'm excited.."

you get to the airport and get through security smoothly. even the plane journey was calm and relaxing, no turbulence which you're relieved about.

then the real holiday begins. walking hand in hand with him through the little villages, laying on the beach and getting a tan. you knew you'd probably have to explain peter's tan when you get back but you knew they would never have let you go with him if you mentioned anything before. you just wanted to enjoy your time together before running into any problems when you get home again.

the villa he rented was so pretty, it had views right across the sea and was completely secluded from anyone else peeking in. so naturally, you would wander around the back garden in just your two piece swimsuit. but then there were times peter was in the pool, swimming up and down, when you'd wander into the garden, sit down on the edge and wait for him to notice you. you'd be wearing a little skirt, one that barely covered anything, and then nothing else. no top, no bra, no bikini top, nothing.

he stopped after a few lengths, slicking his hair back and staring at you.

"hi, baby.."

"hi.."

he wouldn't even hesitate, moving in between your legs and burying his head under your skirt, making you come once, then twice just from his mouth and fingers. then he'd stand up, his hips level with yours as he tugged his shorts down, pulling you right to the edge as he pushed into you.

"pretty baby couldn't wait, hm? needed me so badly, hm?"

"mmhm.. want you to make me cry.. please.."

"gonna stretch you out real good, baby.."

he took it slow, rocking into you and letting you feel every inch as he sunk deeper into you. you just lay back on the grass, his hands gripping your waist and watching your body move with every slow thrust he was giving you. he was just mesmerised by you, the golden tan adorning your skin was even more beautiful under the light of the sunset. he couldn't stop looking everywhere at you, your eyes closed shut, your mouth wide open, your tits softly bouncing with each thrust—you were so perfect in this moment and he wanted to treasure it for the rest of his life. that's when he noticed the discarded polaroid camera on the grass. he had taken a photo of the view earlier and he threw it down gently before diving into the pool.

"baby, hey baby.. get the camera for me.."

you blinked your eyes open and followed his hand pointing to it. you just about reached it and handed it to him. he smiled, holding it up to his eye and snapping a photo of you from the skirt upwards. he showed it to you when it developed and you could only blush, hiding your face.

"baby, don't hide.. you look fuckin' beautiful.."

"you think so?"

"i know so.."

#soft smut is my weakness can u tell #also soft dom peter is my weakness but thats another story #peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill smut #peter quill drabble #peter quill fluff #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #✎ peter quill #text post

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werentmarbella · 1 month ago

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Luxury Villas With Private Pool in Marbella

#villa #luxury rentals #vacation rentals #vacationmarbella #marbella #spain #costa del sol #pool #women #beautiful #beautiful women #rent #real estate

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byenycfm · 20 days ago

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Via Villas || 36 || Loft #606 || Ana De Armas || Closed

Personality:

Calculating and observant, Via adapts to whatever demeanor fits her situation best to her outcome. For now it's the timid amnesia patient, returned home after harrowing months out in the city.

Biography:

Via knew from childhood her life wasn't normal. Her father headed Spain's leading underworld crime group, particularly the branch in New York City. He wanted a normal life for his daughter, or close to normal: private school, her chosen life of ballet and private tutors. Unlike other students at her elite school, her parents were present in her life. She was lucky. International trips, fancy dinners and (all related to her father's job) made being a single child less than lonely. She loved seeing operas and ballet best, not knowing the cover they served for organized crime. The truth surfaced when her parents were murdered by a rival organization in their home, but Vida was spared. The leaders of Portolés Theater, a secret assassins academy for a subgroup of the organization her father previously led, took her in.

Driven by revenge, Via trained in martial arts, marksmanship, melee combat, tactical and defensive driving, stealth, infiltration, and escapology. She continued dance to keep her sanity, but also a cover identity. Under the guise of an international ballerina she could easily slip from place to place, hunting down her family's killers.

The neutral territories and safe zones for hired killers or criminals couldn't always be trusted. Sometimes infiltrated, other times a trap, she preferred longer stays in a place of her choosing. She wanted to be central, but not flashy, and the run down Wexley was as good a fit as any. Vida bopped around different abodes in the city over the years, but this place fulfilled its purposes. Lowkey, passed over, but with accommodations newer buildings no longer had (without buttoned security and quick to squeal). Well sized apartments, a bar and diner, pool, and pleasing architecture? Modern tenant spaces were minimalist were cheaply structured, barren in design, and had far too many cameras for her lifestyle. If her safe house was one online search away how could it be safe? The Wexley was on the map just enough to be central, but off the track from curious tourists. If she's buckling down from time to time outside of the neutral territories in the city, why not have it be someplace bearable?

Renting full time for five years, but stopping in only every few months, Via didn't make cozy connections. She needed to be faceless and forgettable in case the wrong sort of people came around. Opting out of staying at one of the organization's nests upon returning home from a Russian operation, Via was only home for a week before the virus broke out. Although this scenario wasn't in the handbook, she knew when she needed to team up. With her to go bag and a plethora of weapons, Via was out the window and in good company at Portoles within an hour.

With the stocked bunker, locked down building and well trained associates, they held their own through February. Her companions' downfall was business, which didn't slow regardless of a zombie-like disease and closure of the city. There were still crime units spread out to connect with and people to kill, if they hadn't died or evacuated already. Slowly, her team was picked off one by one by infected, rebels, rivals or simply missing the landing while jumping rooftops. The usual casualty rate fast forwarded and soon it was only a few others and her leaders left alive at the theater. Agreeing to lay low and keep them informed, Via returned to The Wexley while a nearby yacht provided distraction for nearby humans, infected or otherwise. It would have been easy to slip into apartment via the fire escape as she had so many times, but her absence had undoubtedly been noted. Instead she banged on a first floor window (the front doors were demolished) to grab someone's attention to let her in. Via fibbed she'd been injured on the day of the breakout and suffered amnesia until recently. She'd been taken care of by a small community down at Yankees stadium, but returned when she remembered The Wexley and her former "life".

Gathering intel on the world's events and the city itself, Via doesn't plan on staying long. If there's an opportunity to escape the city for better conditions, she and her comrades will disappear. She hasn't returned for emotional connections and the shallow dramas of other residents. It shouldn't be long before a cure or exodus frees Via.

Pre Outbreak Occupation: Assassin Previous Zombie Experience: Killed a countless amount. Aware how the virus travels, but unknown status on immunity. Marital Status: Single Children: N/A Residence: Studio #606 Years residing at The Wexley: Pre Outbreak Five Years Connections: TBD

#villas #chara #closed #floor 6

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beardedmrbean · 6 months ago

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1. Eurostar hints at new destinations as it expands fleet for first time in ten years

High-speed railway operator Eurostar has announced it is working on "thoroughly renewing and expanding its fleet" with up to 50 new trains, while also hinting at extending its services to other destinations. Read more.

2. Brussels' linguistic evolution: English gains ground as French declines

The internationalisation of Brussels is increasingly reflected in the languages spoken in the region. The latest Language Barometer shows almost half of the region's citizens speak English fluently and Dutch speakers are on the rise, while French is losing ground. Read more.

(USA USA USA)

3. 'Proportionate restriction': ECHR upholds ban on Islamic veil in secondary education

The European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) has ruled that it upholds the ban on hijabs in Flemish Community secondary schools. It rejected the applicants' complaint that the ban is incompatible with freedom of religion. Read more.

4. Dubai criminal paradise: Traffickers wanted in Belgium making millions selling UAE property

Several leaders of drug gangs have been able to buy, rent and sell villas and flats in Dubai in recent years, making hefty profits, despite being wanted, prosecuted or even convicted by Belgian law enforcement agencies. Read more.

5. Slovenian Prime Minister first serving EU leader to back 'European right to abortion'

As far-right and populist parties are predicted to make large gains in the forthcoming European elections, progressive leaders from Spain to Slovenia are joining the 'MyVoiceMyChoice' pro-choice campaign to protect women's reproductive rights. Read more.

6. Vietnamese trafficking network: Police close nail salons and arrest 17 people in Brussels

17 suspected members of a human trafficking ring were arrested last month. The suspects have been forcing Vietnamese migrants to work in nail salons in the Belgian capital for years, according to the Brussels Labour Audit Office. Read more.

7. Wallonia unveils 26 summer bathing spots for locals and tourists alike

Wallonia has unveiled 26 official outdoor swimming sites across the region this summer. Read more.

#nunyas news

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year ago

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Wisteria Lodge pt 2

Right, so thinking about it since last time I came up with some other reasons, like maybe Mr Garcia was scared of something coming for him and that was why he asked Mr Scott Eccles over for a few nights. Or alternatively, it was a pure coincidence that he asked him over and then someone from his past turned up and threatened him. But why did the whole household disappear overnight. They must have some connection.

Anyway, now I am free for the evening, onto the actual reading. When last we left off, Mr Scott Eccles had woken up after utterly missing his chance at a booty call to find himself abandoned and needing to do the walk of shame.

"I called at Allan Brothers', the chief land agents in the village, and found that it was from this firm that the villa had been rented."

This seems pretty extreme, although I guess what has happened is quite extreme. And if it had happened to me, I'd be all over the internet trying to work out what had happened to everyone. I'd probably at least think of asking the next door neighbours if they knew what was going on. It's different in a time with servants and stuff, though. You'd expect the servants to still be there, even if the owner has gone out or to work or whatever. Still 'no one was in when I woke up so I went to the estate agent...

He does then go to the mutual friend who introduced them - and also the Spanish embassy - which again, seems a bit like overkill. I don't think I'd go to the Spanish embassy, not if I still had all my stuff. If it seemed weird and suspicious enough I might report them to the police as missing, but then maybe they have a good reason. idk.

"My only desire is to help the law in every possible way.” “I am sure of it, Mr. Scott Eccles—I am sure of it,” said Inspector Gregson in a very amiable tone.

Is that amiable as in appeasing, or amiable as in believing? I'm not sure I'd believe all of that, although it does fall into the realm of too weird and unhelpful a story to be faked. If you're going to invent a story about how you're not a murderer when you really are, you want it to sound more plausible.

“What do you say to that, Mr. Baynes?” The country detective was a stout, puffy, red man, whose face was only redeemed from grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes, almost hidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. With a slow smile he drew a folded and discoloured scrap of paper from his pocket.

Ah, Watson, you're back in fine form with your descriptions of police officers, no animal imagery here, but at least you managed to convey your utter disgust at his appearance. Bravo.

"The note is written upon ordinary cream-laid paper without watermark. It is a quarter-sheet. The paper is cut off in two snips with a short-bladed scissors. It has been folded over three times and sealed with purple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat oval object. It is addressed to Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge. It says: “Our own colours, green and white. Green open, white shut. Main stair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize. Godspeed. — D.

What a very specific and detailed description of the note. Purple wax is particularly extra of them, I have to say. And not in keeping with the colour scheme.

I have a feeling that the green and white are going to be associated with something I have no knowledge of, a badge or flag of some Spanish political movement or other. I also feel like the mixed race cook is going to be important in some way, but I don't know enough about the politics of Spain and its colonial empire at the end of the 19th century to make any guesses.

Green baize is a snooker/billiards table, though, usually. The open and shut might be shutters painted in different colours as some sort of signal to people outside (or an indication of the house Garcia is supposed to go to, but there would have to have been previous instructions in that case, because otherwise it could be any house in the country.)

These are clearly directions and instructions. I kind of want Aloysius Garcia to be an assassin now, and these are indications of where he can find his next hit. But why they would specify a snooker table, I don't know. Although there were probably card tables lined with green baize as well. It is the fabric, rather than the table itself.

But clearly he was killed either because of following these instructions or before he could follow them.

“I'm bound to say that I make nothing of the note except that there was something on hand, and that a woman, as usual, was at the bottom of it.”

Once again, we have feminine handwriting. And, as a woman, I don't know whether to be amused, proud, or insulted that apparently we're at the bottom of everything. All three, I suppose.

“As to Garcia,” said Gregson, “that is easily answered. He was found dead this morning upon Oxshott Common, nearly a mile from his home. His head had been smashed to pulp by heavy blows of a sandbag or some such instrument, which had crushed rather than wounded."

If his head has been bashed in that badly, how sure are you that it's Mr Garcia at all? Who identified the body? I mean, if you were an assassin bumping people off, it would be terribly convenient if people just happened to mistake the body of your victim for you. Terribly convenient.

"...but his assailant had gone on beating him long after he was dead. It was a most furious assault."

Either a crime committed with absolute rage and no forethought or the complete opposite where the beating continued specifically until the body was unrecognisable.

“This is very painful—very painful and terrible,” said Mr. Scott Eccles in a querulous voice, “but it is really uncommonly hard on me. I had nothing to do with my host going off upon a nocturnal excursion and meeting so sad an end. How do I come to be mixed up with the case?”

Sir? Sir? Excuse me. A man is dead, sir.

Wow... Yeah, this is very hard for you. So very hard for you. I'm glad you didn't get laid last night, Mr Scott Eccles. You did not deserve it. Even if Mr Garcia is secretly an assassin for a group of Spanish revolutionaries, you did not deserve the hot assassin sex. Nope. 'How do you come to be mixed up in the case?' Maybe because you were sleeping in his house and were one of the last people to see him alive? (If he's dead. Not convinced on that point.

“The only document found in the pocket of the deceased was a letter from you saying that you would be with him on the night of his death. It was the envelope of this letter which gave us the dead man's name and address."

Yep, they got his ID from a letter in his pocket. Got to love policing before the days of DNA and fingerprinting. A+ identification methodology right there. No way that could be anyone but Aloysius Garcia.

Also, I am amused by the idea that someone deliberately set up Mr Scott Eccles for this. It's not nice, no, but eh the guy's a bit of a pompous racist asshole, and I doubt he's actually going to be charged with anything. They identified a man from a letter in his pocket after all, clearly they will believe anything.

“He had been there since one o'clock. There was rain about that time, and his death had certainly been before the rain.” “But that is perfectly impossible, Mr. Baynes,” cried our client. “His voice is unmistakable. I could swear to it that it was he who addressed me in my bedroom at that very hour.”

And there's the random one am booty call coming into play. Of course we have no evidence it was one am other than the reported word of the possibly late Mr Aloysius Garcia himself. Making Mr Scott Eccles' role in all of this that of impossible alibi to a dead man.

And is his voice really unmistakeable, or does he just have a Spanish accent? If three men with Spanish accents spoke to you in the dark would you be able to pick out Mr Garcia? I don't trust you to be able to do that.

“There were,” said he, “one or two very remarkable things. Perhaps when I have finished at the police-station you would care to come out and give me your opinion of them.”

I am irritated now because I want to know what these things are, but at the same time I am very impressed with Mr Baynes for not doing the thing I always yell at fictional detectives for doing and revealing key evidence in front of suspects. So... Fine. You win this one. I will be patient.

“I can make nothing of this mystification of Scott Eccles.”

Mystification is an excellent word. If this were a modern novel that would be the title: The Mystification of Scott Eccles.

"There is, on the face of it, something unnatural about this strange and sudden friendship between the young Spaniard and Scott Eccles."

Homophobic!

I know Mr Scott Eccles is kind of a dud, but everyone is someone's type. You can't just assume that because Mr Garcia was hot and young he wouldn't be into that.

Although, yeah, it probably was Victorian Catfish. Which leaves me in two minds. On one hand - hot Spanish assassin... undeniably cool. On the other hand - preying on the closeted gays... not cool. Even if Mr Scott Eccles is a Tory. You can't just have different rules for Tories, as much as you may want them.

"He called upon Eccles at the other end of London on the very day after he first met him, and he kept in close touch with him until he got him down to Esher. Now, what did he want with Eccles? What could Eccles supply?"

"I see no charm in the man. He is not particulary intelligent—not a man likely to be congenial to a quick-witted Latin."

So stereotypical. I've said it before - you can't know what a person's type is just by looking at them. And let's not kinkshame Mr Garcia for what he was into.

"He is the very type of conventional British respectability, and the very man as a witness to impress another Briton. You saw yourself how neither of the inspectors dreamed of questioning his statement, extraordinary as it was.”

Honestly, I wasn't going to question it either, but mostly because of narrative reasons and because the guy just seems too boring to be able to come up with anything halfway as interesting on his own. But I don't think I'd take anything that came out of his mouth as true. Honest, maybe, but factually accurate? Definitely seems the kind of guy to quote opinion as fact.

“Well, my dear fellow, we have already arrived at the conclusion that the massage received by Garcia at dinner was an appointment or an assignation."

I know 'massage' is a typo, but it fits in so well with everything else, that I must point it out.

"As the number of large houses close to Oxshott must be limited, I adopted the obvious method of sending to the agents mentioned by Scott Eccles and obtaining a list of them."

I was so distracted by the illicit romance of it all, that I didn't even think about the size of the house. Seven doors along a corridor is a big house, and if it does have a billiards table, then that's a sign of a big house as well.

Of course, Garcia would still have needed to know where he was going. There are six people in Holmes' list.

I kind of hope it's Ffolliott, just because of the three double letters in his name. But The Dingle and Purdley Place are excellent names, too. As is Nether Walsling. And I didn't even notice that Mr Hynes Hynes is called Mr Hynes Hynes... is that another typo or is he just so good they named him twice? And a Justice of the Peace (or at least I assume that's what JP stands for). Yeah, I take it back. I want it to be Mr Hynes Hynes. And is he the body that was found or is it actually Mr Garcia?

None of the names seems Spanish in origin, but we've already established that the writer of the note was English. Do any of the titles seem like they might be involved in some sort of Spanish political intrigue? The Lord perhaps? He'd be in the House of Lords, so politically involved in the UK. The Justice of the Peace could definitely be involved in something, but probably not internationally. I doubt the reverend is involved in politics, but there's always a chance of someone having turned to the church for redemption after a life of crime. Though Spain is a Catholic country in the main part, especially at this time, afaik, so it would be unusual for someone of that background to turn CofE. Not impossible, but unusual.

Maybe Spain has nothing to do with any of it, though. The colours definitely seemed like a hint towards something, though and political affiliation was the only thing my mind could come up with. If it's just the colours of the shutters in the house then why 'our own colours'? Also, if someone can open and close the shutters of a house, that means an inside person.

"...a fit setting for the wild common over which our road passed and the tragic goal to which it led us."

Is that the tragedy that has already occurred, or is there more tragedy yet to come? Watson?

Also, what was that extra evidence, Mr Baynes? Very rude leaving us hanging like that.

Holmes is of course, right. I am theorising without enough data. I need to put the Spanish thing and any ideas of political motivation aside. While I doubt it's going to be as simple as a clandestine affair, it probably won't be a secret revolutionary group enacting assassinations on foreign ground in order to foment rebellion. Although such things aren't entirely without precedence in the Holmes canon.

And it's entirely possible that we're supposed to accept at face value that the dead guy actually is Aloysius Garcia even if his face was beaten to a pulp and their only evidence of his identity is a letter in his pocket. I know that's been used as a form of identification before and been accurate, and it annoyed me then, too.

Getting away with murder would have been so easy in Victorian times. Just make sure the body is unrecognisable and leave a note on it with your own name and address before disappearing into the night. No one would even think to look for you again.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #Wisteria Lodge #long post

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