#it's the fake dating setup again

[willaferrreyra]

first date movies — neil lewis x reader

word count: 2.9k (oops this was….way longer than i thought)

contains: SMUT (18+ ONLY) —> fingering, oral (m receiving), public indecency (getting it on in a movie theater because…it’s neil), fluff, happy ending!

you have a crush on your coworker and you really wish you didn’t.

note: this has not been proofread so place excuse any typos! i hope you enjoy especially since this is my first smut fic on this account which is insane. also all of the movies referenced are some of my favorites so…..i’d absolutely recommend them if you haven’t seen them already! neil is my silly little movie buff husband and i’d absolutely LOVE to write for him again so please leave some feedback if you’d like more!

cillian taglist: @mortylover

As you stood on a step stool, shelving new video arrivals, you could hear Ingrid Bergman's lovely Swedish accent behind you.

Notorious. You'd seen it a million times but you'd never gotten sick of it. It was your favorite Hitchcock and often the movie you'd throw on if you were in need of comfort. Although it was your turn to pick what everyone watched at the video store today, you weren't sitting with everyone else on the big worn out sofa. You preferred to shelve and enjoy the sound of the movies in the background (maybe walking over when your favorite scene was on). After all, someone needed to help the customers even if you didn't have many.

You had an annoying habit of reciting movie lines that you loved, as did Neil, the owner of the store and one of your closest friends.

"This is a very strange love affair," you said with Ingrid as you placed Valley of the Dolls in its right place.

"Why?" Neil said right along with Cary Grant, glancing over at you.

"Maybe the fact that you don't love me," you shot him a dramatic look, trying to do your best Ingrid Bergman impression.

"Your Bergman should be better for someone who's seen this movie more times than she can count," he said.

You rolled your eyes.

"She's got a unique accent! Plus it's very transatlantic. That's hard."

"She can do the Fargo accent," your other coworker Jonathan pointed out, not bothering to look up from the TV.

"Oh, you betcha," you grinned, nailing the unmistakable Minnesotan "o" sound.

"That's not hard!" Neil protested.

"It's not easy!"

The doors jingled as your best friend walked through the door, cutting the discussion about accents short. Before you could even say anything she already had a request.

"First date movie. Help."

You thought for a minute.

"Well what's the person like?"

"I don't know! I haven't met him yet. This is a blind setup by a coworker thing."

"Do you....think you'll be paying attention to the movie?"

She made a face.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Not necessarily! You could be....talking."

After many failed dates with guys who were into film, you understood the complexities of picking the first date movie. It said a lot about a person — what they're into, how they feel, who they aspire to be. But at the end of the day, it needs to be something that can transition to being background noise for a good make out session while still being enjoyable. Very few movies check all of those boxes.

"Just don't give me anything too complicated, okay?" she sighed. "No Lynch. No Cronenberg."

You fake frowned. "I was just gonna rent Crash and Lost Highway to you as a double feature."

She shuddered as she remembered the horror that was watching both of those films. You could stomach things like that but she absolutely couldn't.

"Okay, sit tight. I have a thought," you said as you ran over to the romances.

Your friend wandered over to the TV while you hunted for her perfect first date movie.

"Hey guys," she said monotonously.

"Hey," they replied equally unenthused.

She stood and watched the movie for a minute before you came back holding Moonstruck.

"Cher. Nic Cage. Romantic. Easy to follow. It checks every box!"

"That's your idea of a first date movie?" Neil scoffed.

"What's yours? The Seventh Seal?" you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, that's why Denise broke up with him," Jonathan replied.

"What? You didn't tell me that!"

"Well it kind of just happened," he said. "And to be honest I'm not so broken up about it."

After knowing Neil a while, you knew that he wasn't one for consistent steady girlfriends. Denise lasted longer than most, but in the end he always seemed to get bored. Sure, he got around to an extent, but it was hard for you to picture Neil Lewis truly settling down. Unless, of course, you pictured him with you — but you tried not to do that. The thought popped into your brain every once in a while but you pushed it out as soon as it arrived. You knew you'd only end up getting hurt.

"Okay, well that's good because I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies tonight. I mean, I'm all for a good ol' post breakup pity party but I'd much rather go see The Thing on the big screen tonight."

You and Neil did your part to keep your local independent theater in business more than anyone else in town. It was a regular thing for the two of you to go see at least two movies a week, sometimes more. Sometimes Jonathan and Lucien would tag along and sometimes it was just the two of you — every time you secretly hoped that it would be just the two of you.

"Now that's a good first date movie," Jonathan said.

"The Thing for a first date?" you scrunched your nose into a face of disapproval. "You guys have no taste."

"Well good thing we're not going on a first date then," Neil said. "But yeah, I'll go with you, I'm not doing anything else. Wanna grab dinner and go straight there?"

Those words shouldn't have been such a dagger to you but they were. No shit, this wasn't a first date. He didn't need to remind you.

"Yeah, that's fine," you said, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. "I just have a few more things to finish up here and then we can head out."

You helped your friend rent her movie and finished up your shelving duties with a little less pep in your step than usual as Neil's words played over and over again in your mind like a broken record.

Good thing we're not going on a first date then. Fuck him. It's not like he was trying to hurt you, after all he didn't know that you maybe kinda sorta liked him. But those words.....you just couldn't take your mind off of them as you mentally prepared yourself for your very clearly stated non-date.

—

A little diner by the local theater had been your spot with Neil for as long as you'd been coworkers. It had become a tradition of yours to sneak in mini bottles of booze to pour into the milkshakes, either on celebratory or wallowing in your sorrows occasions. Neil's breakup felt like a good excuse to give your shared vanilla shake deserved an extra kick, even if you were the one who really needed it.

"Is anyone looking?"

He shook his head as you poured the vodka into the glass, stirring the concoction with the straw. You didn't wait for Neil before placing your lips to the straw and downing a quarter of it all at once.

"Hey, take it easy. I thought I was the one who needed the alcohol tonight," he chuckled.

"You said it yourself, you're not upset about Denise," you said, the irritation in your voice shining through.

"Are you upset about something, then? I'm sorry I didn't really help you shelve today, I just- you know, you like to do that stuff by yourself sometimes. And you picked such a good movie I couldn't tear myself away from the screen."

It would've been easier if you had really been upset about that. You wished that you were upset about that And now half the shake was gone, everything you wanted to say was rushing to your head, and you didn't even think about what you were doing when you blurted out:

"Why can't this be a first date?"

His eyes widened as he let out a small chuckle, assuming you were kidding.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why can't this be a first date?"

As he stared back at you, you felt like you had just fucked everything up. This amazing friendship was just ruined now because you drank your boozy milkshake too fast.

"Do....do you want it to be?" he asked.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed before burying your head in your hands. "Forget I said anything. I-I drank that too fast."

"No, I....we can call this a date if you want. In fact I'd really like that."

He wasn't trying to humor you and he wasn't trying to make the situation better by saying something that he didn't mean — he was dead serious.

"Neil, don't say that if you don't mean it," you sighed. "I'm just....upset today. Don't listen to me."

He studied your face for a minute before speaking again.

"Do you remember when I interviewed you for your job?"

"Now what does that have to do with anything?"

You did, in fact, remember your Gumshoe interview very well. You had asked him if he'd ever considered doing a film noir themed commercial for the store and you'd never seen someone so excited about an idea before — you always assumed that was why you had gotten the job.

"I knew you before that, you know," he said. "I remembered you from when you used to be a customer. There was actually this one time when you had an overdue fee and I paid it for you and told the guys that I had lost the tape."

This made you smile a bit.

"Point being?"

He took a deep breath before he continued on.

"Normally when we do the interview process, we ask the same shit, you know? What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite director? And I asked you that stuff even though I thought I already knew the answers, I remembered what you used to rent. I thought I knew you so well and then you just went totally fucking wildcard on me — and I loved it. Ever since then you've kept on surprising me and I....well, I really like that. I guess what I'm trying to say is I really like you. And I think I always have."

You stared at him wide-eyed. You had not expected your little drunken tantrum to get you a confession of feelings.

"Neil....do you know why I rented from Gumshoe all the time? I mean, I'm all for supporting the little guys, but I really went in to see you. And then I got this job and I got to know you and you weren't just the cute guy at the video store anymore, you were like....my cute friend/boss technically but I won't get into that. But I got to know you and I watched you go through all of these relationships because you get bored eventually and....I just think you might get bored with me. I'm no Katharine Ross in Butch and Sundance."

He shook his head as a smile crept across his lips.

"No, you're even more exciting than that. You're like...Barbarella or something. Queen of the galaxy."

"Barbarella's whole thing was sex appeal," you point out. "That's the whole movie."

"Sex appeal, sure. But she's also kind and interesting and witty. You've got all of that."

You took all of that as a compliment but you found yourself blushing at his mention of sex appeal.

—

When you arrived to the movie theater after finishing your meal, it seemed that you two were the only ones dying to see a John Carpenter flick on a Tuesday evening. You had your pick of seats in the empty theater.

Your non-date turned date couldn't have been going better, honestly, it made you think that you should turn to drinking more often. It fixed this problem miraculously well.

As you settled into your seats and the lights dimmed, it was clear that both of you wanted to make a move but didn't know how to do it. After all, you couldn't just go straight for unzipping his fly. Or could you? Tonight was all about confidence and he clearly liked it when you kept him on his toes. You decided to start slow, resting a hand on his thigh, letting your hand wander from there.

He looked over at you as you made contact with the bulge in his jeans. It was hard to read his expression in the dark, but you could feel that he didn't want you to stop.

"Are we really gonna do this here?" he whispered.

"We've both seen this a thousand times, I think it'll be okay if we get a little distracted," you whisper back. "U-unless you don't want—"

He cut you off with a kiss that was a long time coming. You were surprised by the sheer force of it as your tongues collided. His hand reached up to cup the side of your face as you melted into the kiss, illuminated by the glow of the silver screen. He made you feel dizzy, but in a good way.

Now, you had never been intimate in a movie theater before, but it was even more exhilarating than you could’ve imagined. As you slowly unzipped his fly, taking his length out of his jeans, you noticed that Neil wasn’t watching the movie at all. His eyes were completely focused on you.

“You’re really taking your time, aren’t you?” he whispered. He was rock hard already and you could tell that he was getting incredibly impatient. You held the base of him while you teased his tip with your tongue. Whatever composure he thought he had went out the window as he his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Based on his breathing patterns you thought he was going to come right then.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Just….just like that.”

You could feel him trembling as your tongue continued to work its swirly magic. Eventually you began to take him in your mouth completely, greeting him with the warm sensation of the back of your throat. He groaned out your name in a raspy whisper as you bobbed your head on his length. Before you knew it, you could feel a hand on your head guiding it along — his touch felt so intimate and loving, you couldn’t get enough.

“I-I’m close….I’m— fuck….I’m gonna—“

Before he could finish what he was going to say, you could feel his come coat the back of your throat. It was a warm, welcome feeling and you couldn’t wait to feel it again.

“Jesus christ,” he sat there catching his breath before turning to you. “That was….wow. You’re just…..I-Incredible.”

You smiled at the praise. It wasn’t even day that you were complimented on your blowjob skills.

Your head made its way to his shoulder as you sat side by side watching the movie. His hand began on your though but slowly because to creep it’s way up between your legs.

“Returning the favor?” you whispered, smiling softly as you glanced in his direction.

He nodded, speaking in a sultry whisper that nearly made your legs shake. “You know, you just made me feel so good….it would be a crime not to reciprocate it, don’t you think?”

You continued to rest your head on his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t help but notice how easily they went in — you had been soaked for hours.

“All this for me?” he chuckled. “How long have you been like this?”

“All night,” you said in between heavy breaths. “I-I’m always like this around you, Neil.”

“No way, are you really?”

His switch up from the sultry whisper to his excited tone made you giggle.

“I have….a tendency to daydream about you when I’m around you,” you explained.

His fingers found just the right spot as he continued to question you. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to talk.

“Daydream about what specifically?”

A small whimper escaped your mouth as his fingers curled inside of you. You couldn’t even recall what you used to daydream about until it hit you.

“This…..this exact moment. I-I’ve….fuck….Ive daydreamed about this a m-million times.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started to pump his fingers faster. “And how does it end?”

“I- Neil- I’m gonna—“

“How does it end, sweet girl? Tell me.”

You could barely even answer in between heavy breaths but you managed to speak up, your words intertwined with your moans.

“Y-you make….you make me come, N-Neil! I’m….right now, I’m—“

“Show me. Come for me. Show me how the daydream ends.”

And you did, trying your best to keep quiet as you came undone. You buried your face into his shoulder as you whimpered and throbbed against his fingers.

“Good girl,” he exhaled. “That’s a good girl.”

—

The next day at work, you and Neil debated what you should tell the others. To announce the relationship or keep it a secret was a heavily debated topic, but you eventually settled on keeping it to yourselves for a while before revealing it. You thought it would be nice to have something that was just yours for a while. Plus, hiding a relationship can be incredibly sexy.

As you walked into Gumshoe, you flashed a quick smile at Neil who was in his usual spot behind the counter before taking your place at the shelf.

“Hey, Jonathan,” you called over to the couch, getting his attention. “I was totally wrong. Upon my rewatch, I think that The Thing would be a great first date movie.”

“See, I told you! I told you and you never fucking listen to me,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”

You glanced over at Neil one more time. It was clear that he was thinking about last night just as much as you were.

“I don’t know…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s Kurt Russell.”

#cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy smut #I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS!! mwah!!!

[trentsgirl]

— 🗝️⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: as a renowned actress and the partner of footballer joão felix, you find yourself attending an interview, unaware that he is actually the one conducting it.

⟡ content: fluff, a little proofread, reader a bit of a dumbass for not realizing but it had to be this way, nardwuar reference in the end.

⟡ request: here:))

⟡ masterlist.

when you were informed that you’ll be interviewed, you expected to have a face-to-face interaction. however, you were surprised when they placed you in front of a camera and inserted an earpiece, explaining that the interviewer could see you, but you couldn’t see them.

you didn’t think much of it and decided to go along with the situation. however, in hindsight, it would have been wise to question the unusual setup, considering that your boyfriend, joão, was the one conducting the interview as a prank on you.

clearly, you had no idea.

“hello, i’m spencer, and i will be conducting the interview today,” a male voice resonated through the earpiece.

joão couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt to put on a fake british accent. it was quite comical, yet once again, you didn’t find it peculiar and simply nodded in response.

“hello,” you greeted with a smile directed at the camera. “i’m y/n.”

you heard joão humming before he rudely questioned, “is that what you’re planning to wear for the interview, ma’am?”

upon hearing joão’s remark, your smile quickly faded, and you glanced down at your dress. you were wearing a beautiful white sundress adorned with blue flowers, a dress that joão actually adored and considered one of his favorites.

however, his comment was part of the question he was given by production.

you chuckled awkwardly in response, stealing a quick glance at your manager who was standing with the production team. your manager simply shrugged his shoulders, leaving you to address the question. “um, do you not like it?” you asked, trying to maintain a light tone.

joão hummed once again, his disapproval evident in his tone, and you barely was able to resist rolling your eyes.

“it’s lovely, ma’am. i was just wondering.” he said, although it was clear that he didn’t truly think so.

“anyways, let’s start shall we?”

“yeah, sure.”

joão proceeded with the question and had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter due to its absurdity. “alright... so, why do you think men like you? is it because of big breasts or personality?”

the unexpected question caught you off guard, causing your eyebrows to jump in astonishment. you were under the impression that the interview would focus on your new role in bridgerton, not about your breasts.

“I’d liked to say personality but we both know that’s not true.”

your answer prompted a few chuckles from the production team, but joão restrained himself from laughing, aware that you would immediately recognize his distinct laughter.

“do you genuinely believe that you have big breasts, ma’am?” joão asked solemnly.

glancing down at your chest, you took a brief moment to assess before raising your gaze and nodding. “yes, i suppose so.”

and again, there’s that stupid hum.

joão continued with the next question, “alright, moving on. who do you believe should pay for the first date? the man or the woman?”

you were still puzzled about how any of these questions were relevant to your show, but you chose to answer to avoid causing any disruptions.

“i don’t really mind,” you shrugged. “whenever my boyfriend and i go out, he usually insists on paying, but i would be more than happy to pay. he just never lets me.”

joão smirked, knowing well that what you had said was indeed the truth. he had never dared to let you pay for anything, even though you were one of the highest-paid actresses in the industry.

he held old-fashioned views and saw nothing wrong with it.

“more than happy to pay? i haven’t heard a woman say that, like ever. that’s new… are you sure you’re not just saying it?”

joão noticed that he had upset you when he saw your stern and intense expression through the camera.

it was evident to anyone watching the interview that joão was thoroughly relishing the opportunity to annoy you.

“i’m sure, spencer.”

he could recognize the annoyance in your voice. he realized that spencer had made it onto your list of least favorite people. it was amusing to joão how you actually maintained a physical list of people you weren’t fond of.

“why do you always let your boyfriend pay for everything? doesn’t it make you feel guilty? what a poor guy...” joão remarked, his voice dripping with feigned disappointment.

you managed to maintain your composure and professionalism, although it was a challenge. who did this guy think he was, pushing your limits like that?!

“I can assure you we’re very happy, next question, please.”

you were eager to talk about a different topic, nothing that involved your boyfriend or personal matters. that wasn’t the focus you had in mind for the interview.

“alright.. why do you prefer to sleep on the right side of the bed and not the left side?” joão inquired.

you appeared visibly unsettled. the only person who knew which side you slept on was joão and only him. not even your manager was aware of this detail.

“how on earth do you know that?” you wondered, a disbelieving chuckle escaping from your lips.

joão tried to maintain a serious demeanor, but your facial expressions were absolutely hilarious. they were pure gold. your level of discomfort was evident, and you made no attempt to conceal it.

“you’re y/n l/n, we have got to know.”

you cast a pleading glance at your manager, silently urging him to bring this ridiculous interview to a close.

“this is getting too strange for me. i don’t think i wanna continue with this interview,” you stated, reaching to remove the earpiece, but spencer intervened to stop you.

“wait, just one more question and we’ll be done!” he assured you.

you out a sigh, reluctantly acquiescing. mentally preparing yourself for yet another bizarre question, you were taken aback by what he actually said.

“how does it feel to be pranked?”

immediately, you recognized the portuguese accent of your boyfriend, who was clearly amused and laughing uncontrollably.

“joão? oh, i’m so going to kill you!”

#trentsgirl—work! 🪐⋆｡°✩ #fanfic rec🦢 #joao felix #joao felix79 #joao felix x you #joao felix fluff #joao felix smut #joao felix fanfiction #joao felix x reader #joao felix imagine #football smut #football fanfic #football fluff #football fantasy #football imagine

[antimony-medusa]

I was realizing the other day as I was filling out an exchange thing, that some of my favourite romance tropes are arranged marriage, accidental/unplanned fae marriage, fake dating/relationship for a mission, and war prize au. And while I was rotating what appealed to them to me, I was like "okay, so, a story in which it's your job to be in a relationship with someone, like it's your job to kiss them, You Have To Do It, and this is what it takes for me to be like yes, this is a reasonable setup for a romance. I now understand why these people are in bed together. Continue with your story about how they have to hold hands publicly for the good of the nation." And then I was like "huh, is this the aroace showing through again".

#aromatic #aro

[lipglossanon]

You’re All I’ve Got Tonight

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙ ███████▒▒▒ 70%

part i

office exec!Leon S. Kennedy x personal assistant fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dirty talk, kissing, nipple/breast play, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie

Actually looked over with a second pair of eyes by the ever lovely @rex122303 ✌️ you have my unwavering devotion 🙇‍♀️

title from You're All I’ve Got Tonight by The Cars

⋘ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…⋙ ████████ 100%

You’ve been giving Leon the cold shoulder since that scandalous night in his office. You know it’s not his fault he was suddenly called up by the CEO to handle some business altercation out of state. 

But he could have called you or left a message or, hell, he could have emailed you. So when he shows up a week later, you’re short and to the point, never staying late and always disappearing if it looks like you’ll be alone with him. 

If he’s frustrated with you, you don’t really care (you do, but you’ll never admit it). He’s still cordial, still touchy feely when he can get away with it, like when brushing past you in the boardroom, but you stay firmly polite even if his touch makes you press your thighs together. 

It all comes to a head a few weeks later when an overnight trip to a business summit’s announced for the small team under Leon’s advisement. This small team also includes you, much to your chagrin. So you prep and plan, making sure all the emails are filled with the correct dossiers and agendas for each individual person and marking off the calendar accordingly. 

Leon tries to corner you time and again as you get everything setup, but you’re able to duck out of it every single time. You know it’s not very mature of you to avoid him, but you still feel embarrassed about the reaction you had when he ghosted you, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault. Your pride took one hit already, so now you’re just trying to avoid another. 

The date for the summit arrives far too quickly and you’re all holed up in the rental van to drive out of the city to the nearby retreat that’s hosting. You make small talk with Ark, a really sweet guy who works in IT. He’s friendly without being overbearing so the drive passes by comfortably although not quickly. 

Arriving at the retreat, everyone piles out of the van, grabs their luggage, and makes their way to the front desk. Bad luck on your part lands you at the end of the line standing next to Leon. Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to chat you up or anything, just scrolling on his phone with a little furrow between his brows. You stare ahead watching as the rest of the team grab their room keys and disappear further into the foyer.  

“Hi there and welcome! Checking in?”

The perky brunette behind the desk smiles at you, making you smile back, but before you open your mouth Leon steps in front of you. 

“Hi! Checking in for Kennedy.”

Your smile tightens as you side step so you’re standing a little behind Leon now. The lady sends you a quick sympathetic look as she types in his name. 

“You’re all set, sir,” she hands him a keycard, “if you need anything whatsoever please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk or the concierge. Please have a wonderful stay!”

She turns to you and repeats the same greeting making you internally wince in sympathy as she types in your information. Her smile falters and eventually drops into a confused frown. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but it seems like your party has all checked in and there are no more rooms available,” she types for a few more seconds before turning back to you with an apologetic smile, “and seeing as we’re fully booked, you can check and see if one of your colleagues—“

“She can room with me,” Leon offers flippantly, giving the brunette another smile, before turning back to his phone, “it’s not a big deal.”

She turns to you, eyebrows raised in question and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be fine,” you plaster a fake smile on and look over at Leon, “I appreciate it, Mr. Kennedy.”

He gives you a smarmy little grin, “Not a problem, madam secretary.”

You roll your eyes at him and turn back in time to grab the spare keycard. 

The young woman rattles off the same spiel as you grab your luggage, “If you need anything whatsoever please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk or the concierge. Please have a wonderful stay!”

You follow Leon through the foyer and over to the elevators, thanking your lucky stars no one from your office will actually see that you’re bunking with the boss. Butterflies threaten to flutter in your chest but you tamp them down, not letting yourself get swept away like last time. 

Leon lets you stew in your own thoughts as you enter the tenth floor, leading you down the hall to the room you’ll be sharing. He unlocks the door and holds it open, gesturing for you to enter first. You nod and roll your luggage case in behind you only to stop dead in the little hallway into the room. 

“There’s just one bed,” you blurt out, disbelief sweeping over you. 

Leon walks up next to you, letting the door swing shut. 

“Oh wow, that’s really unfortunate,” he shrugs, sounding a little too blasé. 

You squint at his side profile, “I’ll see if they can send in a roller bed—“

Leon scoffs, “Look it’s a king size bed, we can share like civilized adults.”

You purse your lips, “Mmhmm, and it’s not just awfully convenient we ran out of rooms for everyone and now we just happen to have to share a bed?”

Leon grins at you, the one that always makes those damn butterflies flutter.

“Just really weird co-winky-dinks,” his grin widens when you fight the smile wanting to slip out, instead giving him another eye roll. 

“Okay,” you throw your hands up with a sigh, “it’s only a short weekend trip.”

One of the reasons you’ve been avoiding Leon is it’s so easy to slip into the comfortable back and forth you’ve already built up. So it’s next to no time before he’s already weaseled a laugh out of you with his shitty one liner jokes. You’re a little nervous now that you’re kinda back on friendly terms, especially after you explained yourself. 

Now, he’s ordering room service for you both while you jump in the shower, letting yourself spend some extra time on shaving and primping before leaving the bathroom. Not for any ulterior motives or anything you think to yourself as you finish putting on your moisturizer. 

When you come out of the bathroom, Leon slips past you and shuts the door. You see that he hasn’t eaten yet, deciding to wait on you to finish up, which makes you feel warm and fuzzy at the thoughtful gesture. So you wait in turn, drinking some water as you channel surf, settling on a show about an elderly mystery writer who always stumbles upon a murder that needs solving. 

You’re pretty engrossed with J.B. Fletcher’s hunt for the killer, but when Leon steps out of the bathroom he draws all of your attention. His face is obscured as he dries his hair with a towel, leaving you to ogle his bare chest and toned stomach with his low slung sweats sitting on his hips, his happy trail catching your eye last. 

You make sure to be looking away by the time he drops the towel around his shoulders. 

“You should’ve went ahead,” he nudges your side, sitting down next to you on the bed. 

“Eh, just thought I’d wait,” you smile at him, nudging him back as he grabs one of the food containers. 

You grab another container and you both watch the rest of the show as you eat a late dinner. After tossing the trash away, you brush your teeth side by side at the double sinks, and find your way into bed. 

After settling underneath the blankets, Leon rolls over and props his head up on his palm. 

“So no goodnight kiss?” 

You roll over to mirror him, eyes taking in his half smile and damp fringe. 

“What makes you think you should get a goodnight kiss?” 

“Lots of reasons,” his hands shoot out to grab your waist, yanking you into his body. 

“I think you owe me a lot of making up, honey,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to your cheek. 

One heated kiss leads to another and before you know it—

“Oh god,” you whine, grinding slowly against Leon. 

His cock is trapped in your panties, rubbing all along your dripping slit as he ruts against your cunt. His back rests against the headboard of the hotel room bed with you straddling his lap. 

You’ve been like this for an hour already; his lap and your thighs are soaked in slick and precum. 

“S’good,” he mutters under his breath, dilated eyes watching your tits jiggle, “wanna stay like this for the rest of the weekend.”

Goosebumps trail down your arms as you shiver, body completely bare except for your panties. 

“What about the presentation, sir? The actual summit?”

Leon grins lazily, dragging his eyes up to your face, “What about’em? I’m just trying to hump this little pussy.”

You whimper and rock against him harder.

The grin on his face widens, “Yeah, you like it too, like my fat cock rubbing all over this soaked cunt.”

“Leon,” your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes clenched shut.

“I wanna slide it in, but this feels too good,” he grunts, feeling your clit catch on the tip of his dick, “c’mere and let me suck on those tits, know you like that.”

You rock forward, pressing your chest out as his mouth leans up to suck on your hard nipples. He groans low in his chest as his lips and tongue work one hard bud while his fingers tweak and pinch the other. Your hips give short little thrusts as sharp bolts of arousal buzz in your clit. 

Sloppy sounds of sucking fill the room along with your pants and whines as Leon lathes your breasts with his attention. 

“Leon I want it, want your cock in me, please,” you gasp out as he bites your nipple and runs his tongue across it over and over until you’re squirming against him. 

“Think you deserve it?” he kisses across your breasts, teeth nipping at the skin as he swaps to the other nipple.  

“Please, want it, I’m so empty,” you whine.

“You've been ignoring me, honey,” he mockingly pouts up at you, lips swollen and hair messy, “outright avoiding me, I’d say.”

“You were mean,” you whine and he pinches your nipples hard making you buck against him.

“I’m being sweet now, aren’t I?” he grunts, sliding his fat cock into your pussy making you squeal from the stretch.

He’s so much bigger than you remember, making your back bow, head tipped back and mouth open, panting while he bullies his dick deeper and deeper into your pussy until he’s bottoming out.

He shushes you as you sink down on his dick with a low cry, “Such a good girl for me. Damn, missed this tight little pussy.”

You shove your breasts into his face making him growl, hands tightening on your hips, sinking you fully down on his cock. Leon’s mouth hotly kisses across your tits, sucking bruises into the sensitive skin. Groaning, he suckles your nipples eagerly until you’re bouncing on his dick. 

You let your hands sink into his soft hair, rocking your hips down hard onto his lap. Mewling, you tug on the silky strands as Leon’s tongue laps across your swollen nipples making you squirm. His hands move up to your waist as he humps your hot wet pussy, burying his cock deep in your throbbing cunt.

Feeling over sensitive, you try to pull his head away from your chest but he only groans, suckling your hard bud deeper into his mouth. His cock kicks and throbs as you slump forward, smooshing your tits into his face. 

“Leon, they’re g’nna be so sore,” you gasp as he nips at the swell of your breasts before pulling away. 

“But you like it, squeezing down on me so tight,” he grins, shaking the hair from his face as he tilts his head up, “now kiss me, sweetheart.”

You whine in the back of your throat and drop your mouth down on his. You feel as Leon scrapes his teeth against your bottom lip. He moans, licking into your mouth, tongue running along yours teasingly. 

He tugs you closer and closer, the kisses becoming more sloppy with spit dripping past your swollen lips. He chuckles when your fingers drop from his hair to cup the back of his head, pulling him forward til there’s no space between you. 

Pulling away for a breath, Leon just tugs you back in for another messy kiss, his hot tongue licking into you again and again.

“Been driving me up the wall, wanted to talk to you so bad,” he lets his head fall back to rest against the headboard as you grind dirtily against him, “had the best sex of my life and when I came back you pretended I didn’t even exist, honey.”

“‘m sorry, sir,” you whimper, eyes fluttering as his cock grinds just right against the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, “just got into my own head.”

“S’okay,” he coos up at you, letting one of his hands drop down and tease your swollen clit, “just gonna let this sweet pussy milk a nice thick load outta me.”

“Yeah, yeah, gonna milk your cock so good,” you slur, arching your back so your breasts brush against his mouth. 

He snarls and bites at your soft tits, “That’s it, squeeze my cock.”

You whine, body jerking as he pinches and rubs your pudgy clit, sucking each of your nipples between his teeth to run his tongue across them. The coil in your belly’s winding tighter and tighter as Leon teases your nipples and clit at the same time. 

“Oh,” you gasp out, “g’nna cum, Leon—“

A low cry spills from your mouth as you clamp down on Leon’s dick, pussy walls fluttering and milking his throbbing cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“So sexy,” Leon’s hips thrust up into your squelching pussy, “so fucking sexy. Gonna make me cum, baby. Y’ready?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you moan, digging your nails into his chest making him curse under his breath and bury his cock into your sopping wet hole. 

You feel rope after rope of hot, sticky cum spurt inside your cunt, stuffing you so full that it leaks out around his throbbing cock. 

“Beautiful,” he places open mouthed kisses across your clavicle up to your neck, letting his tongue tease across your skin, “such a good girl for me.”

You sigh, feeling blissed out and utterly satisfied. He tugs your head down to kiss you softly at the corner of your mouth.  

“If you want, just relax and I’ll bring a cloth in to clean you up.”

You smile at him sleepily, “Wanna snuggle.”

He returns your sleepy smile with a small one of his own, “You got it, sweetheart.” 

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #office exec!leon s kennedy moodboard #office exec!leon s kennedy #office exec!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #office exec!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #office exec!leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #fem!reader #personal assistant!reader #secretary!reader #ark thompson Easter egg

[loslentesdepedrito]

Feliz Navidad

Javi gif by: Ggyussance My Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking Latina f!reader (No race, skin color, or nationality mentioned. I tried my best to include small parts of each Spanish-speaking Latin American country.)

Word count: 11.3k+

Summary: At every family reunion, the relentless interrogation about your love life becomes a tiring ritual. Fed up with the relentless questions and awkward setups, you turn to Javi, your best friend, and ask him to be your date for the upcoming family Christmas party. He suggests that you take it a step further by pretending to be a couple. Can the two of you play pretend, especially when, in reality, you both harbor secret feelings for each other?

Rating: 18+ Explicit content (MDNI) Tags and CW: slight angst, happy ending, fake dating, friends to lovers, jealous and possessive Javi, reader and Javi are in their 20s, not canon, just a smidge of idiots in love, reader wears a dress, lingerie, makeup, and is shorter than Javi, alcohol consumption, Javi being cheesy with your family, unprotected piv, cowgirl, use of a sex toy, oral (female receiving) reader likes to pull Javi's hair, creampie, slight cum eating, Javi loving his cum inside you.

A/N: I’m on vacation and meant to upload this on the 24th, but didn’t have time to add the translations. Sorry for the delay, tarde pero seguro. Enjoy! 

"Come on, Javi," you plead again, watching him chew thoughtfully. There's a sense of urgency in your voice as you desperately hope he’ll agree to be your date for your family’s Christmas gathering. "Please, I'm practically begging you. I'll get down on my hands and knees if I have to." This finally grabs his attention. Caught off guard while swallowing, he hears your words and can't help but let his imagination run wild. The image of you begging, not just for any favor, but for him – for his cock, fills his mind. With a sudden intensity, he forces the last bite of the torta cubana down his throat, triggering a fit of coughing.

Reacting quickly, you reach for the glass of iced water on the table, extending it toward him without a word. He accepts the offering from your outstretched hand, bringing the cool glass to his lips. In a fluid motion, Javi tilts his head back, the cup cradled by his fingers.

Your attention zeroes in on the man before you: The plushness of his lower lip curves around the rim of the glass; as he takes a sip, droplets of water cascade down, catching the afternoon sun and creating a glistening effect.

Mesmerized, you trace the path of those droplets, leading you to the delicate contours of his pink lips. Descending further with your gaze, you focus on his neck, where the rhythmic bobbing of his Adam's apple accompanies each sip. Involuntarily, you shift in your seat, a futile attempt to dispel the growing sensation stirring between your thighs.

Breaking the spell, he speaks, his voice rough as he clears his throat, "Okay, I'll be your date."

A wave of relief washes over you, and gratitude spills forth, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're so perfect. My family will love you."

A quizzical expression lingers on Javi's face as he asks, "Why don't you get a real date?" Despite knowing you could have your pick of anyone, there's genuine happiness in his eyes—an unspoken relief that you won't be taking another man to meet your family.

You sigh and offer an explanation, “I haven't met anyone, and it's pretty weird to introduce some stranger to your entire family on the first date. "Ya te dije (I already told you), my family keeps pestering me about getting a boyfriend. It's the same thing every Christmas, '¿nena y el novio? (baby girl and the boyfriend?)’ 'Mami, quiero que conozcas al sobrino de la vecina de mi comadre. (Mami, I want you to meet my friend’s neighbor's nephew.)’ '¿Mija, ya tienes novio? ('Mija, do you already have a boyfriend?)’ I love them, and they mean well, but I can't take any more of it. Hopefully, when I show up and say that we're just getting to know each other, it will shut them up until New Year's. But by then, I'll tell them we work better as friends, and they'll pity me, so I'll be off the hook for maybe two years."

A knowing look crosses Javi's face as he probes, "And this has nothing to do with the fact that Caleb will be there?"

You groan at the mention of your ex-boyfriend's name. "A little bit," you mumble, slumping in your chair as thoughts of him flood your mind. "He's probably going to bring some girl, and if I show up alone," you pause, giving Javi a sweet smile, "without my best friend, my family will find out I had a boyfriend and I kept it from them."

You didn't mean to keep your relationship with Caleb hidden. You just didn't want to tell your family you had a boyfriend, in case the relationship failed—and guess what, it did. Two months into your relationship, you found out he was still talking to his ex, and you dumped him before shit got worse. Fortunately, your decision to keep your family in the dark spared you from telling them about Caleb, so you didn't have to share the news about the breakup, which, unfortunately for you, meant you had to see him at parties since his parents were friends with your uncle.

"Why don't we tell them we're in a relationship? Like, boyfriend and girlfriend," Javi suggests, attempting to sound confident, though inwardly, he's praying you won't freak out and shoot down the idea.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard and unsure of how to respond. Javier panics at your silence and rushes to add, "I mean, they already know who I am, and we know everything about each other. It would be more believable."

Chewing on your lip, you contemplate what he's proposed. It would be convincing, you think.

“Are there any embarrassing moments that your family will bring up that I should be aware of, my beautiful girlfriend?” Javi teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

In response, you roll up a napkin, forming a makeshift ball, and throw it at him, the projectile hitting him directly on the forehead. Javi grumbles good-naturedly, a blend of irritation and laughter, and you purposely ignore the flutter in your heart. "No, you’ll never hear those."

“Okay fine,” Javi huffs, a mock pout on his face. “What’s the story then?”

"Story? For what?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Javi looks at you as if you're not making the slightest bit of sense. “The story we’ll tell your family. You know they'll ask us so many questions.”

He's right. Your family will undoubtedly bombard you both with questions, seeing as they only know him as your friend and not the guy you've been secretly harboring feelings for.

"I mean, in movies, they always seem to have background stor-" Javi abruptly stops, hoping you don't make the connection about the kind of movies he's referring to.

But, of course, you catch it. “¿Aww, te gustan los romcoms, Javi? (Aww, do you like romcoms, Javi?)”

"¡No!" He blurts out, his face turning a shade of red that extends from his face to the tips of his ears. "We've just- we need to establish a timeline."

Watching him stumble through the sentence, you decide to spare him further embarrassment. "Mmm... we can say we've been dating for a month. It's enough that they won't scold me for not telling them about the relationship earlier, right?"

"We can say I asked you out right after Thanksgiving, so that gives us a little over a month since Thanksgiving was on the 22nd."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good. And are you okay with staying over at my aunt's house since we'll be drinking? Or do you want to drive back to your apartment after we say our goodbyes?"

"Wait, your aunt with the big-ass house is hosting Christmas for your family this year?" He asks, sitting straighter in his chair. Javi's excitement is palpable as you nod. "Yeah, I'm staying over," he declares.

“Trae dos mudas de ropa (bring two changes of clothes)," you instruct him.

“¿Pjs y algo para la recalentada? (Pjs and something for the afterparty?)” Javi guesses but needs confirmation, not wanting to make a fool of himself. In fact, he's determined to make a good impression on your family.

"Mhm," you hum in agreement and then ask him about his previous plans. "You said you weren't going to spend Christmas with your family. Are you sure?"

"My dad's going to Monterrey, and I didn't get my passport renewed, and it's too late now. It's fine; I like spending time with your family." I like spending time with you.

"You just want to get fed," you tease.

"How'd you know," he goes along with your teasing tone.

“Ya te conozco (I already know you),” you tell him, and Javi feels butterflies in his stomach.

Your phone vibrates on top of the white and blue plaid tablecloth. You pick it up and see a notification that your Christmas dress is ready for pickup. "Oh shit, I've gotta go pick up my dress." You scramble to get up and collect your trash.

Javi gently grabs your wrist and tells you, “Ve. Te tiro tu basura. (Go. I'll throw your trash away.)"

Your breath hitches at his touch, and you thank him. You drop your Coke can and take a few steps until you reach him. "You're the best. I love you." You lower yourself a bit to give him a kiss on the cheek. His heart races, and he's scared you'll see him turn beet red, so he stands up and envelops you in a hug. He's hit with your smell, and a groan nearly falls from his lips.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8," he says in a shaky voice, whispering into your ear. Grateful for the long-sleeve shirt you decided to wear that morning, your skin breaks into goosebumps around his body. "That's still early, you know?" you object into his chest.

Feeling the lower half of his body respond to having you so close, he pulls away, not wanting to scare you or make you uncomfortable. “¿Entonces a las ocho y media? (So at eight-thirty?)” he asks, now standing a couple of steps away from you.

"See you then," you nod. Glancing at your watch, you realize you really have to get going.

"What color will your dress be?" he asks before you leave.

"Red," you smile, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

Javi gulps; red is his favorite color. He wonders if he'll be able to handle seeing you in it while pretending to be your boyfriend.

"Bye, te veo mañana (see you tomorrow),” you say goodbye one last time.

"Bye," he waves and watches you walk off. As soon as you're out of his view, he's left standing there, hands on his face, and he groans into his palms. Yeah, he doesn't know how he'll get through tomorrow night pretending he's in love with you because he is in love with you but can't show it.

Just as you apply the last coat of lipstick in your foyer mirror, you hear a knock on your door. Palms slightly damp, you start second-guessing taking Javi to your family party. You hear him say your name through the locked door and quickly tell him you're coming. With a slightly trembling hand, you turn the doorknob, your heart thudding in your chest at the sight of Javi. He's wearing a black leather jacket over a red cable-knit sweater, and God, he smells amazing—tones of sage, wood, and maybe some bergamot. All you know is that you want to push him against the door and put your mouth all over him—mouth, neck, chest, cock—you don't have a preference.

While you're busy ogling him, Javi is staring at you with his jaw near the floor. You're in a burgundy dress with black flowers all over, accentuating your beautiful figure. He makes a mistake when his gaze moves up, landing on your lips. Javi has to bite his tongue to suppress a groan at the sight of your luscious red-stained lips. They look so plush and enticing, and he twitches in his pants.

"Hi, Jav," you greet him in your sweet voice, making him look into your eyes.

The way your eyes sparkle, almost makes him lose his composure and profess his feelings for you. "¿Estas lista? (Are you ready?)" He says instead. 

"I just need to get my gifts," you point to the large gift bag you have set on the floor of your foyer. You only have two gifts in the much too large bag because your family does Secret Santa since it would be rather expensive to get each member of your family a gift. When you bend down to grab your things, Javi gets a perfect view of your round ass. He can't tear his eyes from you until he feels himself growing in his pants. He exhales trying to will his hard-on to go away. On his fifth breathing exercise, you turn around and tell him you're ready to go. Ever the gentleman, he signals for you to step out of your home first. 

"I just need to get my gifts," you point to the large gift bag set on the floor of your foyer. You only have two gifts in the much too large bag because your family does Secret Santa, as it would be rather expensive to get each member of your family a gift. When you bend down to gather your things, Javi gets a perfect view of your round ass. He can't tear his eyes away until he feels himself growing in his pants. He exhales, trying to will his hard-on to go away. On his fifth breathing exercise, you turn around and tell him you're ready to go. Ever the gentleman, he signals for you to step out of your home first.

As you brush past him, he's hit with the aroma of your perfume, and the sweetheart line of your dress offers a perfect view of your cleavage. He has to close his eyes to focus on anything else. After you lock up, he leads you to his car, takes the bag from you, and uses his free hand to help you down the steps. He opens the passenger door, puts your bag in the back seat, and goes to his seat to start the truck. You watch as he reverses, placing a hand behind your seat's headrest. His single hand moves the steering wheel, and you have to physically stop a whine from slipping past your mouth by biting your lip. You feel the wetness accumulate between your thighs, and you don't know how you'll get through the night.

The car ride over was hell on earth for both of you. Javi had to resist the urge to reach over and place his hand on your perfect thighs and move it further up. And you had to watch as Javi handled the gear stick with his big hands and thick fingers. You're both relieved to make it to your aunt's house. Javi insists on opening the door for you, and when he helps you get out of his truck, he gives you his hand to guide you. Next thing you know, he's taking the items from the back seat. Javi swings a backpack filled with his stuff, including clothes, and the bag where you have your gifts. You take it from him without him noticing, and he takes out a chocoflan.

You hear the house door open, and people beckon you over. Javi closes the door and takes your hand in his. He leads you up to the entrance, and you hear gasps and mutters coming from your family.

“¡Ay, mi sobrinita! (Oh, my little niece!)" one of your uncles yells as you're inches away from the door.

“¡Tío!” you exclaim, happy to see him. Before you can say anything else, he gives you a bear hug. You slowly push off to turn to Javi, who is still holding your hand. “Tío, this is Javier, my boyfriend." Your uncle's eyes widen a little, but it's quickly replaced with joy.

“Javi, él es mi tío Nicolás, es el tío de mi papá (Javi, this is my uncle, Nicolás, he's my dad's uncle)," you explain to your boyfriend for the night.

Javi gently untangles your laced hands and extends his hand to your uncle. “Buenas noches. ¿Cómo está? (Good evening! How are you?)"

“Hola, Chavalo. Bien gracias (Hey, kid. Fine, thanks)," your uncle replies and shakes Javi's hand. "And you?"

Their handshake ends and Javi pulls you into his side. "Me alegra. Estoy muy bien ya que estoy con ella (I'm glad to hear that. I'm very well now that I'm with her),” Javi tells your uncle, giving him a dashing smile while he gives you a lovey-dovey look.

You don't know who is happier at Javi's response—your uncle or you. "Oh, here, I brought dessert," Javier hands your uncle Nicolás the custard dessert with a chocolate cake base.

“Come in, come in,” the older man ushers you inside the house.

“Miren quien llegó (Look who arrived),” your uncle's voice rumbles throughout the house. Footsteps make their way to you three, and your family's faces light up. Voices overlap, greeting you, but they seem confused over the man beside you.

“¡Hola!” you smile. "This is Javi, he's my boyfriend," you introduce, rubbing his arm.

Javi doesn't get a word in because your cousin slaps his back and says, “¡Habla, pe causa!” Javi smiles and tells him good evening.

Once your cousin goes away, you whisper to Javi, "That was César, and he said, 'What's up, man.'"

"I knew that," Javi lies, running his tongue over his cheek.

“¡Como que ya tienes novio! (What do you mean you have a boyfriend!)" a familiar voice screeches from the living room.

You cringe as you hear your mom's angry voice and your dad telling her to calm down. Fuck, I forgot I have to tell my parents about Javi, you think.

When your parents see Javi, they physically relax. "Javi!" She gasps. “¿Él es tu novio? (He's your boyfriend?)” Your mom asks.

“Él es mi novio,” you confirm. Javi's heart leaps because somehow in Spanish, you calling him your boyfriend sounds a million times better.

"¡Ay, qué alegría! (Oh, what joy!)" She says and clasps her hands. For a long time, she's asked you if you two are anything more than friends, and she's always disappointed when you say no.

"I'm happy for you, mija," your dad tells you, hugging you.

"Thank you, Dad," you say relieved at their quick acceptance of Javi.

"Tu mamá está muy feliz (Your mom is very happy). It's just that you told your aunt first, and she was blindsided," your dad fills you in, and you hear your name being called. You whip your head to the kitchen and see your aunt coming to you with her arms extended.

“Titi Yalissa," you muffle into her curly hair. Your aunt jumps up and down with you in her arms. "Oh, I missed you so much," she says and lets go of you once she remembers what you told her. "Where's your boyfriend?"

You grab Javi's hand and bring him closer to your aunt. "Javi, this is my aunt Yalissa."

“Titi, this is the guy I told you about. His name is Javier."

"Es un placer conocer al hombre que tiene a mi niña tan feliz (It's a pleasure to meet the man who has my little girl so happy)."

Javier smiles at your aunt's happiness and decides to comment on her house and thank her for the invitation. "It's my pleasure. Tiene una casa hermosa (you have a beautiful house)," he pauses to look over at you, “como su sobrina (like your niece). Thank you for inviting me." Your heart thuds in your chest at Javi's words.

Everyone around you coos and awws, and you feel your ears burn.

"Let me show you your rooms, so you can set your things."

You and Javi follow your aunt up the stairs and into the hallway. She comments on how good you two look together and how it's adorable that you're matching. Her observation catches you off guard, and you look at both of your outfits. Oh my God! Is that why he asked me what color my dress was? Did he want to match? While you're lost in thought, you miss Javi's charming words about how perfect you look.

"Javi, this will be your room," your aunt points at a room on the left side. She says your name and then points at the room at the end of the hall, "Your room is still untouched, and you have your clothes there if you need anything."

Someone calls her from the kitchen, and she apologizes, telling you to come downstairs when you're ready for some food.

When Javier hears her descend the stairs, he asks you, "We're not sharing a room?"

"No. She's kinda against pre-marital sex."

Javi shoots you a look that says he knows you haven't made a vow of chastity.

"Okay, she doesn't know that," you say.

Javi sets his backpack in his room, and you make your way to the small dining room.

"Nena (babygirl), how are you?”

“Tía Mercedes!” you scream once another one of your aunts comes into view.

“Every day you get more and more beautiful!” she says to you. “Oh, and where is that boyfriend of yours? Tu tío Beto me dijo que vos ya tenés uno (Your uncle Beto told me you already have one.)”

For what feels like the hundredth time, you introduce Javi. Your aunt gushes over him and is scandalized when she hears he hasn’t eaten yet.

“No puedo creer que no les han dado nada de comer (I can't believe they haven't given you anything to eat). Come here.” She leads you to where the food is laid out, and to say it’s a lot is an understatement.

"Okay, so we’ve got croquetas, empanadas, ceviche, tamales, pasteles, chuchitos, pan con pollo, carne asada, hallacas, chimichurri, tostones, hornado de chancho, pavo al horno, chipa, pan dulce, y no se qué más." Your aunt lists off the myriad of food, whether it’s side dishes or main courses.

“And to drink, there’s coquito, champurrado, atol, ponche, arroz con leche, café con queso, chocolate caliente. If you want something else, you can ask Beto. It’s probably in the kitchen.”

You and Javi grab whatever you crave and add it to your plate before heading to the larger dining room. Everything had been going well until you saw your ex. Javi noticed you tense up, and he followed your line of sight, landing on your ex-boyfriend, Caleb. With food and drinks in his hands, Javi couldn’t physically comfort you. A soft whisper from him, a simple “Hey,” was enough to unfreeze you, and you both walked to your seats, strategically far away from Caleb and his girlfriend.

Dinner went by smoothly. Your family was eager to learn about the new man in your life, and you explained that before becoming your boyfriend, he had been your best friend and someone you trusted with your life. One of your little cousins was curious about how he asked you to be his girlfriend. To your surprise, Javi spun an elaborate story about taking you stargazing and making it official under the night sky. He described the story with such vivid detail that it brought tears to your eyes, and your family found it incredibly heartwarming. Little did they know, part of those tears were tinged with sorrow, knowing that after this night, the charade of this "relationship" would come to an end. The other part of you felt pure love for Javi, appreciating the effort he was putting into making your family believe in your fake romance.

After clearing the plates and sharing the story, Javi couldn’t help but notice Caleb shooting daggers his way. Frankly, he didn’t care about Caleb's feelings, but when he saw him staring at you, Javi couldn’t suppress the desire to leap across the table and strangle him. Thankfully, one of your cousins interrupted and announced that a game of lotería would be played outside if anyone wanted to join.

You take your cup of ponche, and Javi grabs his cup of atol as you both make your way to the backyard, where a table is already set up for the game. Soon, the table of 25 is full, and some have to wait for the next round. With beans in hand, you eagerly listen for the first card to be called.

“Ahí les va la primera tarjeta (Here comes the first card),” Uriel, your favorite cousin's husband, warns. He shuffles the cards in the deck and flips the first one over.

“La Sirena (the siren).”

You squeal and instantly put your bean on top of the square where a siren is underwater. You hear groans from the people who didn’t have the siren on their cards. Javi, not having much luck, simply watched you with the biggest smile, reveling in your excitement over the lead.

Uriel flips the next card and announces, “La Luna (the moon).”

This time, neither you nor Javi has luck. Displeased, you watch as Caleb places a bean on his card.

“¡El soldado! (The soldier!)”

You look at your card—nothing. You look at Javi’s card—still nothing. A feeling of being watched makes your head turn to Caleb, and he’s smirking at Javi because he got another bean on his table. “Not good at lotería,” Caleb tuts, “is there something you’re actually good at?” he says condescendingly. 

You have half a mind to tell him all the ways Javi is perfect, even throwing in a few lies about your fake intimate life, but Javi rests his right hand on your thigh, and just like that, all your hatred bubbles away.

“Before I call the next one, does anyone have all three characters?” Whoops and cheers come from a few uncles, cousins, and family friends. “Okay, does anyone have a line nearly filled?” Uriel asks another question, and this time is met with silence.

“Bueno (Oh well),” he moves on and pulls from the deck, “La maceta (flowerpot).” You wish you had one of those to throw at Caleb’s head. Your wish is answered when someone yells, “¡Aguas!” You and Javi instantly duck, and much to your dismay (not), Caleb doesn’t, and the flying rag hits him right between his eyes. He groans in pain and starts to pick a fight with Marta, one of your cousins. Marta's fiancé stands up for your cousin, “Sos un hijo de remil putas. He told you to watch out. It's your fault you didn't listen." Everyone agrees with Flavia, and they tell Caleb he should've ducked. Your ex finally shuts up, and your family urges Uriel to draw the next card.

“El cotorro (the parrot)." Javi moves quickly and places the bean he's had in his hand for a while. You're so happy for him; that you nearly spill your drink onto the table.

A few more cards are drawn, and you haven't made as much progress, but Javi, on the other hand, has his card nearly full of beans. He needs four consecutive beans in a straight line, but he's missing two beans to win.

“La mano (The hand)." 

“Concha-tu-madre,” an uncle seethes in frustration as he doesn't have the hand on his card, but you know who does—Javi. 

“Ya me agüitaron (Ya’ll bummed me out). I'm going to put on music," your cousin, Darío, says, abandoning the game and hooking up his phone to the speaker. 

“El árbol (the tree.)” You sigh in disappointment as the last character Javi needs isn't called.

Music and various curse words fill the air, including but not limited to coño, jueputa, mamaguevo, japiro. 

"We have four potential winners," Uriel announces, "Y ahora... el gorrito (and now... the little hat)." 

“Mierda,” Javi's voice falls into a whisper because he doesn't have that card. By this point, he's memorized the entirety of his table, and when the hat was called, he knew it wouldn't be on his card.

You look around the table and see that Javi is among three people who need one more bean to win. 

"Let's see," Uriel says as he shuffles the cards. “El valiente (the brave man)” is yelled, and before you can react, Javi screams, "Lotería!" 

Everyone whips their head to your 'boyfriend,' and Uriel rushes to check Javi's card. You're filled with joy and practically bouncing in your seat. 

"We have a winner!" Uriel whoops, patting Javi's shoulder. 

"Beso, beso, beso (kiss, kiss, kiss)" your family chants, wanting you to celebrate with your boyfriend. Your breathing labors, and you don't know how to get out of it. Luckily, you get called to the kitchen, and Javi looks relieved. Your heart drops. He didn't want to kiss me. You excuse yourself and hurriedly make your way to the kitchen.

Javi's left in his seat trying to regulate his heartbeat. He didn't want to kiss you. Not because he didn't want to. God, he wanted to taste your lips, but he's scared that if he kisses you, he'll never stop.

In the kitchen, you scoop food into Tupperware for you and Javi, when you hear a man say, "You said he was just a friend,” the voice accuses. 

"Caleb," you spit with venom.

"You're with him now?" he asks hands in his pant pockets.

"I am. And I'm very happy with Javi," you say simply, adding rice to your blue Tupperware container.

"Come on, we were so good together. Don't you remember? We could be great again. Don't you want that?"

"No is the answer to every single thing you just said."

"What's so special about him? You didn't want to tell your family about us, but you bring him around?" Your ex is furious. When he saw you walk in with that dress and with Javi, hands intertwined and looking up at him like he was the best prize, he nearly lost it.

You turn around with your back to the entrance of the second dining room and point the spatula at your ex. "What isn't special about Javi is the better question. He's sweet, kind, determined, funny, and everything you're not. That's not all I love about him though; he makes me feel loved and heard, and he's my best friend. Javi is everyone's dream."

Caleb scoffs, and his only defense is, "What kind of name is Javi?"

You feel a possessive hand on your stomach, and it moves you back towards the owner's body. No, no, I can take care of this myself, you think, and then his cologne hits your nose, and you feel the warmth of his body, and your mantra of standing up by yourself evaporates.

"What kind of name is Caleb? Why don't you go back to your ex and leave my girlfriend alone?" Javier says, voice deeper than usual, making the rat of your ex retreat with his tail between his legs.

"Want me to kick his ass?" Javi questions.

"Nah, I have a feeling it'll ruin the holiday spirit. Thank you for that though."

You realize he could've heard your conversation with Caleb and ask, "How much of that did you hear?"

"When he made fun of my name, which is fantastic, by the way," he responds.

"Javi is a fantastic name," you assure him, "Javi," you say his name, testing it like it's the first time saying his name.

Javi nearly facepalms himself because hearing his name falling from your lips is making him harden again. Not to mention how you defended him to your ex. He's never heard kinder words about himself until you. Lately, Javi has felt like a failure. He failed to get into the DEA academy, and it was terrifying to think he would feel like that for the rest of his life. But when he's in your presence, everything else just melts away.

"How was my family while I left you unsupervised?" You ask, resting your head on his chest.

"Great. One of your cousins talked about the fact that the Christmas celebration was a pagan holiday and another about companies making a fortune based on Christmas. Your uncle, Ramon, I think started talking about los terrenos y le quitaron la corona (inherited land and they took away his corona beer.)”

"Oh god," you sound horrified, "I'm sorry about my family."

Javi slides his hands up and down your arms, "you have nothing to be sorry for. Mi familia también es así o peor (my family is like that or worse)." He knows he shouldn't say the words but can't help himself, "Our kids will have the biggest family."

Your mouth drops in surprise, and your mind flashes with images of you having a family with Javi, and your heart feels like it can explode.

"Your cousin was behind you," Javi says, looking past you.

A wave of disappointment washes over you. "Oh."

Javi lied. He didn't say that to convince your family about your relationship; he said it because he meant it.

The clock strikes 12 AM, beginning the 25th of December, and you all have to give out hugs to every single person at the party. Thankfully, it won't be awkward since Caleb and his plus-one left an hour ago. You get hugs from your entire family, and they each tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. When you reach Javi, you go for a side hug, but he pulls your face into his chest, and you exchange ‘feliz navidads.’ His smell is so comforting you want to stay there forever. You don’t pull away until someone announces it’s time to open gifts.

You take out the large wrapped box inside the bag you brought and give the gift to your little cousin, Gio. You bought him plenty of Hot Wheels and a racetrack that will take up a significant amount of space in his living room. Gio leaps into your arms and tells you you’re the ‘bestest cousin in the world.’ Your older cousin tells you she’ll give you her gift before going upstairs to the balcony to see the fireworks.

When Sandra leaves, Javi calls your attention. "Amor ven," the nickname falls easily from his beautiful lips; it makes you swoon. He pats the seat next to him, and in a few seconds, you’re next to him.

“I got you something,” Javi says nervously reaching into his pants pocket. He retrieves a square box and hands it to you gently like he’s scared you’ll move your hand and drop it.

You take the box fully into your hand. You lift the top, and your eyes begin to water. You scold yourself internally that this shouldn’t make you cry, but the beautiful necklace makes it impossible not to. It’s not because it’s a pretty necklace but you’re tearing up because of the letter attached to the gold chain – a J for Javier.

Javi misconstrues your tears for hatred. “I can exchange it for something else,” he’s quick to spit out."

“I love it, Javi,” you promise, words dripping with sincerity. “¿Me lo pones? (Can you put it on me?)” you ask him, getting ready for him to clasp the necklace.

His fingertips make contact with your nape, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You briefly wonder if that will happen every time you make the slightest contact tonight. Javi adjusts the necklace and clasps it, ensuring he doesn’t accidentally get some of your skin, which he was afraid he’d do because his hands were developing a thin layer of sweat.

“Done,” he tells you breathlessly, and you turn around to show him.

He feels ridiculous that seeing his initial on your chest makes him go crazy. Yes, part of him feels beyond happy that you liked your gift. When he was shopping, trying to find you a gift, he stumbled upon a jewelry store, and he knew he had to get it for you. He didn’t buy it to ‘brand you’. Javi genuinely wanted you to carry a part of him, just like he always carries you everywhere he goes.

You hear the first fireworks go off, and Javi says, “Ya es hora para los cuetes (it’s time for the fireworks).” He helps you get up, and everyone makes their way up the mahogany stairway. You meet Sandra on the 2nd floor, and she gives you a white and red striped metallic-wrapped box. That childhood excitement of opening presents is still there. You feel giddy and tug at the taped ends to rip the paper. Once you’re able to see a sliver of the actual gift, you hold it to your chest.

“Sandra! You did not just gift me a sex toy!” You whisper-yell, the shock and embarrassment evident in your tone.

Sandra was known for being direct; she was your older cousin but more of a big sister. She had been a reliable source of guidance, especially when it came to your body, relationships, and intimacy. In fact, you had learned more from her than from your mandatory sixth-grade sex Ed class. You'd often sought her advice, grateful for her non-judgmental attitude. Sandra was always there to help, whether it was explaining innuendos or first-period crises. You remember when you got your first period, you ran to her after your mom called her for moral support. So, in a way, you shouldn't have been surprised by the gift when you complained to her about your trusty wand giving up on you.

“I recall getting a phone call telling me one of your favorites was no longer working. But with that boyfriend of yours, I don’t think you’ll be needing this, so I can take it back,” she smirks, enjoying making you flustered and sputtering on your words.

“A gift is a gift. You can’t take it back,” you argue, hugging it further into your chest. With the night you’ve had, you’re 100% certain the toy will have its grand premiere.

“Ooo using it with your man tonight to spice things up, I like that.”

You turn around and see Javi standing there with his hands by his side. His pretty lips are parted in an ‘o,’ and you can’t believe he just saw your cousin gifting you a sex toy for Christmas.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sandra gives you a peck on the cheek and slips past you to go to the stairs and up another floor.

“Woah. That’s certainly a gift,” Javi states.

You want the ground to swallow you whole. Here you are hugging a fucking sex toy in the middle of the hallway with the man you love staring at the gift.

“I’m going to put this in my room,” you say robotically and make a run for your room. Oh my god, oh my god, he did not just see that. With the box still in your arms, hoping you don’t run into anyone, you open the door to your room just enough to slip inside and shut the door. Your heart is beating erratically, and you consider staying in your room for the rest of the night, but you know they’ll be calling for you soon. You finally unlock your arms and take the gift into your hands. There’s still wrapping paper covering the gift, so you take it off and take in the toy for the first time. You mistook the handle for a dildo. It wasn’t a plastic dick you thought you received; it was a clit stimulator. Color? Red.

After you placed your new gift on top of your bed and covered it with a sweater, you found the courage to face Javi. You opened your door and found Javi with his fist raised as if he was a second away from knocking.

“Let’s go,” you croak, hoping he won’t ever bring up what happened a few minutes ago.

Javi wordlessly agrees, and you both walk to the stairs in silence to go to the balcony. As you approach the final stairs, you hear more fireworks go off, but their timing isn’t consecutive, so you know the big event is yet to come. Once you’re outside, near the entrance, there’s a table with drinks that range from alcohol to traditional beverages to a mix. You take a Corona, and Javi picks up a glass of coquito. The balcony is packed, but it's big enough that you don’t feel like packed sardines. Music is blasting on the speakers; some of your family is off dancing, and some men are huddled around talking about work, while your younger cousins are playing with their new toys in a corner. You still haven’t talked to Javi, and it’s slowly killing him. He didn’t mean to embarrass you by walking in on Sandra giving you your gift, but when he overheard the term 'sex toy,' it was as if an invisible force nailed him to the floor. Javi racks his brain for how to start a conversation with you. He knows the firework show will commence any minute now, and he won’t be able to get a word in.

"You look beautiful," he blurts out before his brain can catch up with his mouth. Okay, not what he wanted to start off with, but it’s definitely not a lie.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly as the fireworks start going off one after another.

“I mean, you look beautiful every day,” Javi says in the midst of a chrysanthemum exploding in the sky.

"What?" you reply, struggling to make out his words over the resounding explosions.

Once the sounds die down, your aunt Odilia passes by, catching sight of you and Javi standing closer, facing each other. “¿Como están los enamorados? (How are the lovebirds?),” she says with adoration before moving on. Her statement prompts a few head turns from your family, who go on to comment about how cute you look with your boyfriend.

"I said," Javi begins, lowering himself to your ear, "You look beautiful. You always do, but tonight..." He stands up straight, locking eyes with you. Javi delicately strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Es como si me hubieras puesto bajo tu hechizo (It’s like you’ve put me under your spell),” he confesses softly, his voice filled with adoration.

You find yourself unable to conjure a reply. Your entire focus is consumed by him—the way he smiles, the dimple on full display, the stray curls tousled from dancing, and the warmth of his fingers against your cheek. His nails graze your skin ever so slightly, leaving you questioning if it's a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought crosses your mind, wondering what it would be like to feel his nails embedded into your hips as he guides you in rhythmic movement. Taking a deep breath to regain composure, you inhale his scent, causing your head to spin. In the midst of your reverie, Javi's voice pulls you back.

"Your family is expecting a kiss. May I?" he asks, breaking the spell.

"What?" you respond, dumbfounded. While you heard him, the question leaves you in disbelief.

“¿Te puedo besar?” he repeats, his heart seemingly pounding out of his chest, laying his intentions bare.

As you nod and rasp out a breathless "yes,", Javi cups your cheeks with a gentle urgency, bringing his lips to yours in a passionate collision. It feels like heaven with his mouth molding seamlessly with yours. His taste is a delightful concoction of coconut, Don Q rum, cinnamon, and condensed milk—remnants of the coquito he had earlier. In the intoxicating embrace, you clutch his shirt, pulling him closer, savoring every fleeting second because it could be the first and last kiss you'll ever share.

Opening your mouth wider, you send a silent invitation, and he responds, his tongue tangling with yours, the passionate sounds blending harmoniously with the distant fireworks. Amid the explosive bursts in the night sky, the sounds of your fervent kiss are almost lost, and worked up and lost in the moment, you can't help but whimper into his mouth. When the sound of your own desire reaches Javi's ear, he knows he should pull away before the intensity escalates. Reluctantly, Javi breaks the kiss, mindful of the familial audience surrounding you. Both your chests rise and fall in tandem, the shared breathlessness lingering in the air. The post-kiss silence is punctuated by the distant echoes of the ongoing fireworks.

Separated but still entwined in the magic of the moment, you catch your breath. You admire the way Javi's brown eyes reflect the vibrant colors bursting in the sky. Javi gazes back into your eyes, marveling at the way they brighten with each explosion in the sky. It's a parallel to his own feelings as if miniature fireworks detonate in his heart whenever he looks at you. His earlier realization holds true; having kissed you, he never wants to stop.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed," you say, gesturing toward the door, your eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Buenas noches,” he replies, a tinge of sadness coloring his voice.

You steal one last glance at him and urge yourself to get to your room before you throw your friendship down the drain for another kiss. So that’s what you do; you open the door, whisper one last goodbye, and shut the door. Javi closes his eyes, scolding himself for making things awkward. As he goes to his room, he focuses on thinking about what to do to fix your friendship. One thing he knows is that he can’t lose you.

Inside your room, you press against the wooden door. You have no idea how you’ll get through tomorrow, much less through the rest of your life. our eyes wander around, taking in the familiar walls of the room. You’ve had your own room at your aunt's house since you were a little girl, and there are some things that have remained the same. There's a shelf against a wall that contains a few of your stuffed animals from your childhood. You took down your posters from when you were a teen but kept the same paint color of dark red because you knew you couldn’t have your room all black. 

Realizing you still wear Javi's jacket, you gently remove it, placing it on your bed. You hate that it looks like it belongs in your room. You sigh and go to your bathroom to get ready to toss and turn in your bed.

In the midst of removing your makeup, having already brushed your teeth, a soft knock interrupts the quiet solitude of your room. Confused, you quickly dry your face and rush to open the door, wondering who it could be. It’s Javi. He's outside your door, his hair a mess like he ran his hands through it repeatedly.

"Can I come in?" he asks, his eyes searching yours.

"Javi! They'll kill me if they see you in my room," you whisper.

"Please, cariño?" 

His tone is filled with a vulnerability that softens your resolve. You take a quick glance down the hallway and find it deserted, so you quickly pull him into your room and shut the door quietly. As you assess him, clad in grey sweats and a black long-sleeve compression shirt, a rush of desire floods your body. Thoughts of peeling off his clothes and kissing him all over stir a wetness between your legs, leaving you certain your underwear is ruined after spending the day with Javi. 

"I'm sorry," he interrupts your dirty thoughts, and confusion crosses your face.

Sorry? Why is he sorry?

He sees the confusion written all over your face and continues, “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

What?

“If I knew it would make you uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have done it. Your friendship means the world to me. I’m sorry I ruined it. Cariño, what do I need to do to make us go back to normal? I’ll do anything,” Javi pleads with you.

You shake your head furiously. “No, Javi, you didn’t ruin anything. It didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise.

He breathes out a sigh of relief after you tell him he didn’t mess up the best thing that’s happened to him. “Why did you shut down after… after we kissed?”

“I don’t know, Jav,” you shrug, looking away. You feel your eyes sting at the tone of his voice. He sounds hurt. You've hurt the person you love, and you want to take him into your arms and apologize.

“Please don’t do that,” he implores, reaching for your hand. “Dime (tell me).”

A wave of apprehension washes over you; confessing your feelings is a leap into the unknown. You worry about the potential shift in dynamics, but you sense that Javi believes your withdrawal stems from him. “If I tell you, and you don’t like what I say, promise me we’ll forget this conversation,” you request, your lip caught between your teeth.

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” 

“Promise me, Jav,” you repeat, aware of the simplicity but needing that ounce of reassurance.

He nods solemnly. “Te lo prometo (I promise you).”

“Javi, I like you. So much,” your voice falls to a whisper. The ball is now in his court, freeing you from the weight of what-ifs.

Javi's reaction is priceless. The tension that once knitted his eyebrows together dissipates, giving way to a radiant smile that stretches from ear to ear. Leaning in, he cradles your chin in his hand and kisses you, a taste of mint lingering on his lips. This time, the kiss is tender, and gentle—a dance of shared feelings that leaves him dizzy and his stomach aflutter. As he withdraws, his forehead presses against yours.

“I like you too. For a long time now,” he confesses, the words clear and resolute.

“Really?” you ask incredulously, feeling like you're walking on air. This moment, a culmination of countless fantasies, was the very last scenario you expected to become reality.

“Yeah,” he affirms with a nod. The truth lingers on the tip of his tongue. “De hecho, te amo (In fact, I love you).”

“I love you too,” you reply with a smile, your hands slowly tracing up his chest. One hand passes his broad shoulders and reaches his nape. A gentle brush of your hands against his skin sends a surge of warmth through him. Your fingers run through his hair, eliciting a low groan from Javi, and you yearn to hear more.

“Javi, te necesito (Javi, I need you),” you murmur with half-lidded eyes.

He doesn't want to risk embarrassing himself with words, so he gently takes your hand off his hair and guides you towards your bed.

Walking with playful curiosity, he asks, "Am I the first guy you've sneaked into your room?"

"Mmm... I plead the fifth," you decide to answer coyly.

He narrows his eyes, "That's a yes then."

"¿Si te pones celoso, porque me preguntas? (If you get jealous, why would you ask me?)" you question him playfully as you hit the bed.

Javi's jaw ticks, and he says, "I'll make you forget about them."

His tone stirs a needy feeling in you, and you reply, " Sigue de perico, y no vamos hacer todo lo que quiero (Keep talking, and we won't be able to do everything I want)."

Tugging down on his shirt, you give him the signal. He promptly takes it off, treating you to your very own private show.

"Oh my god," you groan appreciatively when you see him shirtless—tan skin, toned stomach, and freckles on display. The grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, showcasing the V line and a dark patch of hair.

Javi revels in the effect he has on you. ”Turn around," he commands with dark eyes.

You instantly comply, spinning around so he can reach your zipper. Instead of tearing your dress off, he hugs you from behind.

“I don’t know if I told you before, but I really love this dress,” Javi says, running his hands over the velvet material. “Do you know how many times you made me hard tonight?” He confesses to having excused himself to the restroom multiple times to handle his hard-on discreetly.

"Javi," you whine impatiently, the revelation only intensifying the sticky mess between your thighs.

He pulls your zipper down, but you turn around, reaching your shoulders to slip the dress off, letting it pool on the hardwood floor.

"Dios mío (My God)," he exhales with a shaky breath.

"¿Te gusta? (Do you like it?)" you ask, referring to your lingerie that matches your dress. You're wearing a burgundy thong and a matching bra with lace material, revealing pebbled nipples. His fingers twitch, and he pulls you by the waist.

"Me encanta (I love it)," Javi whispers in your ear. His voice makes you slump against him as he unclasps your bra. “Why did you wear this?” he asks, his kisses trailing down your bare shoulder, devoid of judgment or ill will, just curiosity.

"You know what they say, 'to hope for the best, plan for the best.'"

"I don't think that's how it goes, baby," Javi chuckles into your shoulder and then presses his lips on your neck.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, savoring his kisses.

"Thank you for the outfit, my beautiful girl," he says, instructing you to get on the bed. As you settle on the mattress, you watch as Javi begins to remove his pants.

You watch in awe as his swollen cock presses against his stomach, and an undeniable desire to have it in your mouth engulfs you. Can a dick be pretty? God, his is so beautiful, you think to yourself. Javi gracefully crawls onto the bed, his hand reaching for your unclothed breasts.

“Mmm… so beautiful,” he hums, popping one of your tits into his mouth.

“Oh!” you exclaim, a mix of shock and pleasure coursing through you. Your arms extend onto the bed, and in the throes of passion, you accidentally hit something. The noise prompts Javi to lift his mouth from you and remove the blue sweater that conceals whatever your hands came in contact with. To his surprise, he discovers the present your cousin gifted you earlier.

“Clit and nipple stimulator,” he reads off the box.

Embarrassment washes over you, even though he just had your nipple in his mouth. Before you can say anything, Javi tears the box open and retrieves the toy. He presses the 'on' button, and it comes to life with a soft hum.

“Mi color favorito,” he says with a smirk.

Your brain struggles to form a coherent sentence. Javi sets the suction toy beside you and resumes attending to your nipples with his mouth. Lost in the sensation, your head falls back onto the bed. Suddenly, you feel a vibration around your other nipple. Lifting your head, you see Javi using the red wand on your right nipple.

“Oh God, Javi, I need you inside me,” you moan.

His response is muffled by your soft breasts. Gripping his hair, you lift him off you with a bit of force.

“I need to taste your pussy first,” he says with blown-out eyes.

“No,” you protest, craving him desperately.

It's not what he wanted to hear. “Please?” he insists. “I know I’ll cum embarrassingly fast, and I need to give you something before that happens.”

No. I want you now, you beautiful man. “Just a little bit,” you compromise. Normally, you'd eagerly jump at the prospect of him expressing a desire to eat your pussy, but you're so unbelievably turned on.

He toys with the band of your thong, and you lift your hips to let him remove it. Soon, they're in his hands, tossed aside on the floor. Laid bare for him, you're naked except for your jewelry. The gold 'J' nestles between your breasts, the left one still wet from his saliva, while your pussy glistens with slick accumulated throughout the night.

“Eres tan hermosa. Nunca he visto nada como tú y nada se compara (You're so beautiful. I've never seen anything like you, and nothing compares),” he confesses sincerely. Seeing you laid out before him, looking at him like he hangs the stars, leaves him breathless. He kneels on the floor, gently pulling your legs to be on either side of his face. Javi wastes no time as he begins to lick your cunt.

You gasp, placing one leg on his shoulder for added support. Responding to your silent request, Javi lifts your other leg onto his opposite shoulder.

“Ahh!” you cry out when his mouth presses closer onto your pussy, and he begins to devour you. His tongue explores, collecting all of your wetness into his mouth. Fuck, she tastes so good. I've been waiting to have her in my mouth for so long.

“So sweet, baby girl,” he murmurs between your thighs, causing vibrations that intensify the pleasure. You're already sweating and out of breath, unable to believe how quickly his mouth is bringing you to the edge.

He momentarily stops licking your folds and wraps his lips around your pearl. Your legs jerk, and you can't help but scream out his name. Javi quickly shushes you, urging you to be quiet, though his own noises betray the arousal he feels. He promises himself that once he can take you to his place, he'll never ask you to quiet down.

Opening your eyes, you're captivated by a sinful sight. Javi's intense and piercing gaze meets yours, the obsidian of his eyes seamlessly bleeding into the rich brown of his irises. Simultaneously, his tongue delves into your entrance, a sensation so electrifying that you can no longer endure the sweet torture.

“You’ve made me wetter, Javi, please fuck me.”

“No,” he objects.

“Javi por favor. Mañana podemos hacer de todo, pero te necesito ahora mismo (Javi, please. Tomorrow we can do everything, but I need you now.)”

He chides, “terca (stubborn girl),” but relents, releasing your legs. Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally, you guide him onto your bed, pushing him to lie back as you straddle him.

He believes he's died and gone to heaven, with you on top of him—a dream come true. “Condom?” he rasps out.

“I’m clean and on Nexplanon,” you nod toward your arm. “Are you okay with that?”

Feeling his cock pulse at the thought of being with you without a barrier, Javi nods vigorously and says, “Me matas bebita (you kill me, baby girl).”

His words draw a smile from you as you reach behind, feeling the velvety skin of his arousal in your hand. With deliberate slowness, you stroke him up and down.

“Uhh… fuck!” Javi groans, tossing his head back onto your pillow. The raw, guttural sounds escaping him become music to your ears, encouraging you to keep stroking him. Precome coats your hand, and you use it to slickly spread the moisture over him as makeshift lube. Javi continues panting, and you decide it's enough.

Rising on your knees, you guide him to your entrance. His head breaches you, and an involuntary whine escapes your lips.

“Oh,” you gasp, squirming on his lap. 

“Mmm!” Javi’s jaw drops, unable to believe that you're creating such intensity with just his tip inside

You ride him to open up, moving yourself on his head. “God, Javi!” your body burns as you straddle him. 

“Told you…” he pauses, gritting his teeth. “I should've s-tretched you.” 

You shake your head. “I can take you. I just- uh! I just need some time.” Javi is big and thick, prolonging the process, but you'd rather struggle than have him prep you.

As you keep bouncing on his tip, Javi thrusts up into you, causing both of you to moan. He places both hands, previously gripping your sheets, on either side of your waist, helping him fit more of his cock inside you. You rock back, feeling yourself open up, and you lower yourself down.

Your mouth hangs open, and you wail as the thickest part of him is embraced by your walls. Javi groans heavily and embeds his nails on your waist. You moan at the small ripple of pain and work yourself to sink down some more.

“I-I thought- ah! que me querías calladita, (that you wanted me to quiet down) and look at you…uhh louder than me.”

“You feel s-oh!” Javi can’t finish his response because you fully sit on his cock. Your hips are flush with his, and he swears he can cum this instant. 

“Hold on,” he tells you, breathing heavily, eyelids closed, and stilling you.

Once he feels he’s regained some composure, he lifts you off him. You slowly start to rock back and forth, chewing your lip to keep from screaming out. 

“Does it feel good?” Javi asks, eyes open once more.

You meet his dark eyes and moan, “Mhm, s-so good… Oh! Javi," you whine, "So big… you’re so big.”

He pulsates inside you, a low groan escaping his lips. "You can't say that," he mutters, shaking his head, not to express disagreement but to calm himself. Not yet, not yet, he chants. 

“Why not? It’s true.” You argue, throwing your head back at the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep going. Then I won’t earn first place for the best sex this room’s ever seen,” he laughs lightly to mask his mortification because he knows he’ll be cumming soon.

"You're so much better than anyone else,” you assure him, seeing through the self-deprecating comment he made.

He lights up at your praise. "Yeah?”

"Yes! You make me so full,” you sigh, bouncing on him a little faster. Your hand movement transitions from his hips to both hands sprawled on his abdomen. Pressing your body closer to him at an angle, both of you shake with pleasure. You keep rocking against him, and all he can do is watch. Javi takes in the way your breasts bounce and the way your necklace shines. Overcome with desire and possessiveness, he sits up suddenly, making you whine when you feel his sweaty and hot body against yours.

Javi seeks your mouth, and you eagerly comply. Your mouths crash, and it's all tongue and teeth. He's moving you slowly against him, but it's still a delicious sensation, and you can't help but moan into his mouth. The air in your lungs is slowly decreasing, so you pull away, and your head falls onto his shoulder. With your mouth away from him, he's able to wrap his arms around you and rock up, up, up with intensity. His pace ignites something within you, and you bite his wet tan skin to muffle your cries. Javi feels you tighten on him, and he pants out, “How are you so perfect? No entiendo (I don’t understand.)”

You can't answer him; you just bounce on him, feeling the telltale sensation of your lower stomach nearing the finish line.

“Amor,” he groans. The word sounds like sweet honey coming from Javi's lips, and it makes you gasp. Javi catches on and asks you, “¿Te gusta cuando te digo así? (Do you like it when I call you like that?)”

“Sí,” you confirm. He adjusts the angle of your legs, causing the wind to knock out of you, and the only words you're capable of saying are, “Amor, amor, amor…” This is the first time you've ever called Javi ‘amor’, and it does something to him. He knows he’s got a minute max before he blows his load.

Frantically, he takes one hand off your body and scrambles to find something on the bed. Lost in ecstasy, you don't notice, but then you feel a vibration on your pearled nub, and you jump from surprise. In an instant, you look down and see Javi has the red toy and is using it against your clit. Your eyes begin to water as you reel in the feeling of the man you love inside you and the delicious sucking of the toy.

You don't warn him; you don't even process the thought yourself, but you begin to shake on top of Javi. You feel every nerve in your body— all seven trillion of them—explode. You come in silence with your mouth into a perfect ‘o’. 

Javi doesn’t let up his ministrations; he keeps thrusting his hips upwards and using the red wand, prolonging your high. “That’s it, amor, you look so pretty cumming for me,” he whispers full of adoration. “Good girl, good girl,” he chants as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

Javi bites his lower lip, determined to make this moment last longer; he never wants it to end. Once your vocal cords start functioning again, you cup his face with one hand and, with desperation, you tell him, "Ven, amor, relléname (Come, my love, cum in me).”

Javi feels like fireworks are going off in his body. He keens at your words filled with love and desire for him; he has no choice but to obey. The dam in his abdomen breaks, and “Ahh!” he groans, voice broken and raspy, letting go of the toy. You feel his hips stutter as they lose their steady rhythm, and he pulsates and spasms, the warmth of his seed fills you as he climaxes in ropes. Your body is overworked and sensitive, but you keep bouncing on him to milk every drop. You can't look away from him. His eyelids are heavy, his mouth is parted and panting as he moans and growls hoarsely, his neck is extended showing all the veins, and his skin is flushed in a beautiful red hue. Javi repeats your name over and over as his high washes over him. You caress his nape and run your fingers through his hair as he comes down from it. His spend and yours drip out of you and onto Javi.

"Holy fuck, that was amazing," Javi laughs, and you feel the rumble in his chest.

"Yeah?" you ask coyly.

“Best of my life," he sighs and rolls you over so you're underneath him.

You laugh and crane your neck to give him a peck on the corner of his mouth. God, that sound, Javi thinks. "I love you," he says, knowing he'll never stop telling you those three words.

"I love you," you echo. "Come on, let's sleep," you tell him.

"I've got to clean you up first," he says, climbing off and pulling out of you. You whine at the loss and miss him inside of you already.

His expression looks pained as he looks between your parted thighs, seeing his seed seeping out of your puffy cunt. Javi fights with himself as he debates leaving you with his cum inside. His index and middle fingers are taken by you and guided to your opening.

"Push it all inside," you command, knowing he doesn't really want to wipe it away.

"But your bed and—"

“Me vale (I don’t care)," you interrupt. Javi has always been concerned about how his actions affect you, and you find it sweet. However, you want this. You know he won’t give in to his desires if he thinks you don’t want this. So, you have to convince him you do. “Please,” and just like that, he’s collecting the creamy liquid around your labia and pressing it back inside you. 

You're oversensitive, but you melt at the feeling of his thick and long fingers inside you. Gripping onto his bicep, you savor the sensation as he makes sure most of the sticky substance goes back inside you. Whatever remnants are on his fingers, he sucks them and closes his eyes at the taste. You stare up at him and swear you could go another round if he didn’t fuck the energy out of you. 

“Should I go back to my room?” Javi asks. He doesn’t want to, but maybe you’d rather sleep alone.

“Please stay,” you tell him, gripping his arm tighter.

He nods. “Okay, baby, I’ll stay.” You sit up on your bed and undo your covers. Javi walks across the room to turn off the light, and when he comes back, you’re underneath your quilt. He climbs in next to you and extends his left arm so you can snuggle to his side. 

“Buenas noches, amor,” he whispers.

“Good night, amor. I can’t wait to wake up next to you,” you tell Javi before you drift to sleep.

In the silence, he admires your features and says, “I can’t wait to make you my wife and wake up next to you for the rest of our lives. Feliz Navidad, mi vida”

Extended A/N: I wrote this when Frankie didn’t exist yet; I promise I just don’t write for Javi! 

The last chapter of IYW should be out next week if I’m able to recolor the gifs I need. Thank you for reading!

#javi peña x female reader #Javi peña x latina reader #javier peña x female reader #javi peña smut #javier peña smut #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #narcos fanfiction #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x f!reader #javi peña #pedro pascal characters #loslentesdepedrito's writing #my writing

[kazumist]

STUCK WITH YOU .ᐟ

✩ — being stuck with him was least thing you expected but maybe this is the best thing that ever happened to you (or in which you get to be roommates with him).

✩ — includes: scaramouche, xiao, ayato, and diluc x gn!reader. fluff. no cws wc: 399. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

scaramouche — !

it was dislike at first sight. you don’t know what triggered it, but you swear that when you two shared eye contact for the first time, you weren’t going to like this setup at all. but as time goes by, scaramouche’s company isn’t as bad as you thought. sure, you both started on a rocky road, but things are going well and smoothly now, even if it isn’t that obvious to others—but then again, why should their opinion matter? both of you know things are better than before anyway, and that’s what matters.

xiao — !

the most distant roommate you’ve known. he always keeps his distance in anything, whether it’s sitting far from you during dinner (or eating at a completely different time than you) or his things being neatly at his place in the apartment itself. but one time, there was a spider in your room, and xiao helped with putting it away, but you don’t really think you can spend the night in your room. would xiao even let you sleep in his room for the night? (he did let you sleep in his room for the night. he insisted on sleeping on the couch instead since you’d go on the bed, but in the end you somehow both ended up sleeping on the bed.)

ayato — !

this is new to ayato. not that he isn’t used to sharing a house with others, but to share with only one? that’s a different story. you were a bit tense and awkward with each other at first; however, it all changed when he shyly asked for your help to make his friends stop setting him up on blind dates. ayato contemplated it for a while, and he arrived at the conclusion that it’s best that he ask for your help. what could possibly go wrong with having to fake a relationship with your roommate?

diluc — ! 

the definition of a perfect roommate. you two take turns doing the household work, but when it comes to washing dishes, you decide that with a game of rock, paper, scissors. and diluc gets overly competitive about it for some reason. it was a side of him you didn’t expect, but you aren't complaining. in fact, you find it quite cute. you can never bring yourself to actually admit it to him, but every day you wish to find out a new side of him.

#( writings ) #astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #scaramouche #xiao #ayato #diluc #i promised this post some time ago and i finally wrote it :D

[thisisatesttai]

IchiRuki is not "delusional," and saying that it is means you have no media literacy

IHs seem to think that all it takes to interpret Ichigo, Rukia, and Orihime's feelings is to read the epilogue. To a literary critic, that is absurd. Characters explain how they feel over and over again across a piece of media. An ending may give us context that alters the earlier scenes, but this is always in very specific ways. With Bleach, nothing about the epilogue indicates that Ichigo and Rukia are not supposed to be read as at least potentially romantic.

For posterity's sake, I should point out that I've only seen the first few arcs of the anime, so most of what I say below is based on the manga. That said, the anime is part of the story as much as the manga is, so just because something happened in the manga and not the anime, or vice versa, doesn't make it "truer" to the text, just true to different texts.

Let's start with the fact that the story repeatedly suggests that Ichigo and Rukia have a romantic vibe to them. The rumors at school make this explicit, but just from the setup of two classmates who clearly have a secret that are constantly sneaking off, especially when you add in that they go home together and sleep in the same room. I know a lot of people want IchiRuki to be the Platonic Boy/Girl Friends (TM) but honey, they just ain't them. You're thinking of Naruto and Sakura. Claims that they have a sibling vibe are utterly baseless, especially in Bleach, where sibling relationships are a very explicit theme. Not every non-romantic couple that's nominally the same age (don't get me started on the "she's 150" arguments; go prosecute ACTUAL 150-year-olds dating 15-year-olds and leave me alone) is automatically a sibling vibe. The most I could say is that they do bicker a lot, but we all know that's just as comparable to a married couple. Saying Rukia is a mentor to Ichigo admittedly has a little more basis, especially when Bleach doesn't have a designated mentor figure. I still think Rukia's role in teaching Ichigo about the Soul Society is more of a guide archetype, though; think less Genkai, more Botan.

But setting aside the setup, the Soul Society Arc, or Rescue Rukia arc, is loaded with romantic themes and imagery. Don't get me wrong; nothing says that Kubo couldn't have introduced these as a fake-out to the audience, with the intention of subverting their expectations. I don't personally think there's anything that really suggests that, at least not so far as the romantic reading of the Soul Society arc itself being entirely off-base. The whole arc kicks off because Rukia is asked by Orihime and her friends if she "like-likes" Ichigo. She says she only likes him as a friend, but all of the narrative cues suggest that she's being dishonest, from the narration to the fact that she was so bothered by the question that she chooses now to go to the Soul Society and face her punishment. The suggestion at this point seems to be that Rukia having any type of affection for Ichigo, be it friendship or romantic, is inappropriate or even impossible for a shinigami. Ichigo's feelings are treated similarly, as he never gives a straight answer when he's asked why he wants to save Rukia, but several characters suggest that it's because he's in love with her. This doesn't mean he is, but the narrative does not deny that that is a possible reasoning. We're not even really told what his answer is; the scene where he thinks, "That's why I fought so hard to save you" seems to be suggesting that he wanted her to be able to decide whether she would live in the World of the Living or the Soul Society -- or else it's saying he didn't want the last time he saw her to be her telling him she would never forgive him, or it's saying that he wanted to see her smile again. Like I said, we're not given an explicit answer to this question.

The rest of the manga is basically about Ichigo adjusting to life without Rukia. I think it's fair to say that even if you read Soul Society romantically, from the Arrancar Invasion Arc on, Rukia is no longer written as Ichigo's love interest. This doesn't invalidate anything suggested in the previous arcs, though. If anything, I would argue that Ichigo's feelings become pretty explicit by the time we get to Hueco Mundo. The dramatic reveal of Rukia coming to visit, and the fact that she's the only person capable of breaking him out of his funk, both have a romantic reading to them. When the team arrives in Hueco Mundo, Ichigo is shown to be overly concerned with Rukia's safety, explicitly singling her out aside from Renji, Uryu, and Chad. (I guess that could just be misogyny, though.) Even Ichigo's obsession with getting a rematch with Grimmjow could be traced to him nearly one-shotting Rukia during their fight in Karakura. I'm not saying any of these are exclusive interpretations, just showing how it's regularly reinforced that Ichigo feels differently about Rukia than any of his other companions, even to the point of letting it cloud his judgment.

I don't think I need to say anything about Ichigo and Rukia's goodbye before the timeskip. The way the scene is drawn, and written, and framed by the narrative, is very reminiscent of romance scenes, to the point that if it was meant to be read as exclusively platonic, it comes off as a very bad satire. And jumping to the anime real quick, I know episode 342 is anime-only, but by no means do I think that invalidates everything it says about Ichigo and Rukia's feelings for each other. That episode oozes with ship-bait, to the point of turning the subtext of their relationship into text. And if you think this is something that the anime studio injected into the narrative -- well, first of all, then we'd also have to parse out everything that the Shonen Jump editors injected into the manga -- but Kubo himself has said that he thought the episode was a welcome addition. So, if your'e someone who thinks the author's vision is the final say on the manga, there you have it; Kubo basically canonized ep. 342.

With all that in mind, I think that, at the very least, Bleach's narrative suggests that Ichigo and Rukia are coulda-beens. Maybe Ichigo was more invested than Rukia was, maybe Rukia deemed it inappropriate due to them being from different worlds, but in the language of manga and storytelling in general, the idea that they might have feelings for each other isn't some fan's "delusion"; it is actually part of the text. Whether or not they actually felt something for each other is for them and them alone to know, but the story tells us that these are two people who met, came to care very deeply for each other, and then drifted apart without ever taking the plunge.

The question that this leaves us with is, where does that leave Orihime?

If there's one character whose feelings are never up for debate, it's Orihime. We know from practically her first scene that she has a crush on Ichigo. Now, at first that's never taken seriously. It's mostly just a setup for the running gag of her bonkers imagination. Over time, though, we get a little bit more insight into Orihime's feelings, and she starts to get taken more seriously as a character. There's a version of Bleach where, as Orihime steps up to be by Ichigo's side in the latter arcs, he moves on from his feelings for Rukia and the two develop as a couple. If that were the case, even if IchiHime doesn't appeal to me, personally, I would still accept it. It would actually be a refreshingly mature take on teenage romance. Unfortunately, that version is not in the text.

For that reading of Bleach to work, we would need to see their love for each other build to a place where both characters bring out the best in each other, at least comparably to Ichigo and Rukia. Unfortunately, Ichigo and Orihime don't seem to bring out the best in each other. Ichigo brings out all of Orihime's insecurities. During the lead-up to the Arrancar arc, Orihime starts to compare herself to Rukia. (There's literally a panel sequence that says, without a single word "find you someone who looks at you the way Ichigo looks at Rukia", to anyone who's still unconvinced that there's a romantic reading to those two.) And as the entirety of the Hueco Mundo hammers home, Orihime is personally ill-equipped to be Rukia. Both Rangiku and Rukia herself have speeches where they tell Orihime that she needs to stop trying to live up to what she thinks Ichigo wants and just be herself, but she sticks to the mantra that she wants to "fight by Ichigo's side" -- you know, like Rukia does. Urahara even tells her outright that she needs to stop trying to put herself on the battlefield. It's not particularly nice of him to squash her dreams like that, but it's not as though she doesn't get an out; Hachi is already there, trying to teach Orihime to be a healer, something she has a natural talent for.

Instead of reframing her wishes with the advice of her friends, Orihime makes the worst decision of her life and goes to Hueco Mundo with Ulquiorra. Now, obviously this is coerced by the Espada and not her actual response to the situation, but that doesn't mean they're not framed as consequential to each other, narratively. Orihime is told she has a flaw that she needs to change, but before she's able to do so, she must go through hardships so she can let go of the façade that she's using to cover up her flaw. Well, she goes through hardships alright. She's imprisoned, assaulted, and threatened with death. Orihime is confronted both with her weaknesses, and with her strengths, as she is eventually able to appeal to Ulquiorra's humanity through her willingness to see the goodness in people, even those who are actively abusing her. You would think this would lead to a change in Orihime that goes back and answers the underlying question, but it doesn't. By the end of the manga, she is still fantasizing about being a Battle Couple alongside Ichigo, and she's still not good at it. I don't know how many times I've had to say this, but Orihime and Ichigo losing their fight to Yhwach is not a triumphant moment. The fact that it's the result of Orihime achieving her series-long dream is more of an indictment against their relationship than anything else I could say.

To adopt the narrative that Ichigo got over Rukia to be with Orihime, we would also need to see him come to appreciate Orihime in her own right, something that he is...hopelessly uninterested in. No, we can't just take for granted that he's a dopey shonen hero and "that's just his character"; if he's supposed to be . We also absolutely cannot take for granted that this happens offscreen; that can be a headcanon that you, as the audience, choose to adopt, but it's not suggested by anything other than the assumption that the ending is supposed to be, and can only be, saccharinely happy. There's nothing to suggest that Ichigo changes the way he thinks about Orihime in the text, and we only ever see him thinking about her is when reacting to her in scenes, and just generally not wanting her to die. The closest we get to him expressing a romantic interest in Orihime is the scene where he asks her to "wait for him" -- at Rukia's wedding, no less. I shouldn't have to spell out how having this happen on the very day, at the very moment, that Rukia is considered "off-limits" to conventional societal standards undercuts the idea that Ichigo is not taking Orihime as a consolation prize. Which, don't get me wrong, SUCKS. But it is implicit in the framing, and can't be ignored.

And that's without getting into Rukia's relationship with Renji. I think in this case, we can very obviously see that Kubo tried to write a romance between them, but he did so in such a half-assed way that I find it very hard to take seriously. Yes, Ichigo throwing Rukia to Renji is obviously meant to tell us that Renji is her love interest from that point in the story, but that doesn't mean it works. First of all, we can't pretend Renji wasn't awful to Rukia for a majority of the Soul Society arc. Sure, this is him pre-character development, but it's a huge leap to go from "I'm conflicted over whether I should tell off my boss for killing you" to a canon couple. But even with Renji beating up Rukia and telling her he wished she was dead, you can still get to the point where they repair their relationship -- it just takes a lot of work that Bleach simply doesn't do. We need more than Renji promising to turn things around, we need to see him do things that make up for that. To be fair, though, Kubo spends very little time showing us what they're like when one of them isn't on death row. At most, they seem to train together a lot. Like, you want platonic boy/girl besties? THESE are platonic boy/girl besties. Actually, they're the ones with the sibling dynamic, given that they literally grew up calling each other family.

So where does that leave us? Some people seem to assume that despite Kubo fumbling the ball, the canon couples were meant to be, and that they somehow found happiness despite all the evidence to the contrary. Again, you can hold that headcanon for yourself if it makes you happy. However, if we're going strictly based off the text, the answer seems to be that Bleach doesn't have a happy ending. The characters whose endings are not related to getting married off all end up doing the one thing they didn't want to do -- Chad ends up using his fists for personal gain as a boxer, Uryu ends up alone, etc. -- and the ones who DO get what they want are the ones whose dreams are framed as being misguided, in Orihime's case, or unearned, in Renji's case. I'm not saying you have to ship IchiRuki, of course. I can't tell you how to read the series. At the end of the day, Bleach is to you what it is to you. But saying that reading IchiRuki as romantic is "delusional" is more than just false, it diminishes media literacy for all of us.

#bleach #rant #shipping #ichiruki #ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #orihime inoue #renji abarai #we do knot always love you #i mean look at that title #that's supposed to be the big renruki book #why is it based around a double entendre that's basically #we always love you -- NOT!

[beabeemu]

I'll Die without you

Twitch Streamer + Pro! Soccer Player A/N: I've been wanting to make a nagi fic for a while, So I made this!! Hope you all like it!! this was kind of a rush idea LOL

Nagi Seishirou x Reader

MASTER LIST; Tag List Form

It was a mutual mistake, the kind that you will laugh at in the future. But you’re not laughing now. 

“Twitch Streamer MeowkIzen is rumored to be dating Professional Football player Nagi Seishirou. After her previous stream, fans claim that they heard the voice of the football player in the background. Read more of the article here at XXXXXX.com” 

“Is Twitch Streamer MeowkIzen Dating Pro! Football player Nagi Seishirou??” 

There were a lot more articles but I stopped reading them already. I slid the phone back to Nagi’s PR manager, he had me read the headlines on Twitter. Everyone is just buzzing about my latest stream. 

It was an innocent mistake. 

Nagi entered your apartment, it was quiet in the main area but he can hear your voice in your office/gaming room. He thought that you were just playing games so he thought that it would be safe to enter. He twisted the doorknob open without knocking. 

 “Babe, what do you want for dinner? I’ll order on post mates” (let’s just pretend that post mates are available in their country) 

The room went radio silent. “Babe?”  

Looking at the fake wall that you put up, based on how much lighting he saw on the other side, he realized that you were on a stream (you know how Pokimane’s set up is, where she put up a fake wall and decorated it to make it look like an actual room? That’s just like how Y/n’s setup is here) 

He froze 

You froze 

Everyone who was watching the stream froze. 

Everyone in the chat was freaking out from the voice because based on their knowledge, you were as single as a pringle. 

But apparently not 

Immediately ending the stream he heard some clicking from your keyboard and mouse. Then he heard some shuffling then you came out of your makeshift room with a look of panic. 

“NAGI! THEY HEARD YOU, WHY DIDN’T YOU KNOCK? NAGI THEY HEARD. THEY WERE ALREADY FREAKING OUT ON THE CHAT.” 

While you were freaking out on Nagi, you heard some Twitter notifications from your phone, and they were A lot 

“And there they are now!!” 

“Hey calm down, they probably wouldn’t even know it was me.” 

“Don’t underestimate them, Shiro” 

Back to now, nagi’s PR manager had given us a call after a few hours when the accident happened. They told us that they were gonna come over the next to discuss the issue. 

“How did they even know that it was me? Can’t we just deny it or something?” 

“That’s why we’re here, we have two options on what to do, 1) to say that it was all a prank or 2) not say anything at all. Of course, the second would need for both of you to not post anything for the next 2 - 3 weeks. So which of the two would you do?” 

“Would they really believe that it was a prank?” 

“It’ll succeed if you just deny and deny everything, But what’s wrong with the second one though?” 

“I can’t do the second one, I have an event I need to go to in a week. It’s in the Philippines you see.” 

“Conquest?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

“Well, choosing 2 would certainly not be an option” finally the koala beside me made his presence seen. 

“So 1 it is” 

“Yup.”

.

.

.

After 2 days I went and did a stream, not even finishing a round in Valo, they were already asking me about the issue. 

“Are you really dating nagi seishirou” 

As I read the chat, I made it look like I was oblivious to who that was. Basically pretending that I don’t know Nagi. 

“Yeah, um. That was a prank Lol I was acting at that time too. It was a pre-recorded tape. Look I can even play it again” 

So I did, I played the audio that Nagi’s PR made for me. 

 “Babe, what do you want for dinner? I’ll order on post mates” 

“Babe?”

Then I started laughing, “HAHAAHAHAH LMAO, I’m actually  flattered that you guys believed that I have a boyfriend” 

I looked at the chat and some of them were believing me, some were skeptical, and some were not believing any of the BS I was saying. 

“CAP” 

“DUDE GOT ME WORRIED, I THOUGHT YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND LOLOL” 

“That tape is so good wtf???? It sounds just like Nagi” 

“BS” 

“THAT'S PURE BS RIGHT THERE” 

And it went on. 

Good thing the issue died down before conquest. At first Nagi wanted to come with me, but I told him no. That resulted in him pouting while I was packing my stuff. He even cried when I left. 

“Sei, stop crying, I’ll only be gone for a week” 

“That’s too long” He sniffled, he wasn’t sobbing or anything. Just silently crying while making me feel bad for leaving him behind 

“I’ll be back before you know it”

“Remind me again why I can’t come with you?” He hiccuped as he held both of my hands. He was blocking my view of the closet. 

“Because, we just got out of an issue, and the last thing we need is for that to resurface, and you have practice tomorrow” 

I let go of his hands, but he quickly pulled me against him and continued his silent crying. 

When I arrived at the convention, the fans were really nice, they gave me stuff, some merch, and handmade things that they made. One even gave me Nagi’s jersey as a joke, they laughed when they saw it. Everyone in the room of the meet-and-greet was aware of what happened in the stream, along with the “rumors”. As we continued the meet-and-greet some fans showed some fan art, had me do tiktoks with them, and some asked me about the dating rumor.  

I did some sightseeing before going home and went with some fellow streamers who teased me endlessly about the issue. I was lowkey getting fed up lol. During nighttime, I would face time with Sei, he would be dramatic when I would tell him that I wanted to sleep already. 

“You would literally play games until 3 am, and it’s only 11 there” 

“I’m tired sei” I set the phone standing against the lamp on my bedside table as I got comfortable in the bed. 

Sei frowned but gave in, letting you rest. But said that he would call you early in the morning tomorrow. You said thank you and then fell asleep, sei frowned some more, but he didn’t end the call. He just let the call go on as you slept, he soon fell asleep too. So you were surprised when you saw the ongoing call with Sei sleeping with his mouth slightly open. 

You took a screenshot, which woke Sei up. 

“I missed you” The second your foot stepped in the car, sei aggressively (just a little bit of force though, h just missed you so much y’know) pulled you against him, almost dragging you to him. Sei wasn’t allowed to wait for you inside the airport so he had his manager get you. 

“I was gone for a week sei” 

“It felt like a year” I rolled my eyes at his over-dramatic nature. 

“What are you gonna do with me sei?” 

“I’ll probably die” 

I just chuckled as the driver drove away from the parking lot of the airport. 

Your like and reblogs are always appreciated!!

Taglist: @kimura-uzuri, @10-jiku2, @briefparadisewonderland, @junephantom21, @noshitmyfriend, @decoraboix, @pwr3tties, @miyanaranagikenmal-intp, @vitaniangel-blog@coldteameowjesty, @yamikawa-blog7, @ieathairs, @sirimiripetrichor, @vinkiesz, @myaai230, @rimeeep, @nxxagent, @daichisito, @anyaswrld, @1uvsptnik, @kiritokunuwu, @randomhumans-blog

#blue lock #anime #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi smau #itoshi sae #nagi drabble #nagi headcanons #nagi x you #nagi x reader #blue lock fluff #nagi seishiro x reader #bluelock

[nanakah]

onk mini-rambling

tl;dr i feel going against the current a bit as a die-hard ishimiko shipper, but I love Aquakane a whole lot ahahahah

heavy spoilers under the cut

Apparently this is an unusual take, but I'm not really convinced Aquakana is that similar to Ishimiko. The power balance is off and Kana in general reminds me more of how Maki behaves, with some shades of being too "bright" and removed from Aqua's real worries and business. She is still a complex character with good motivations, but the stakes she operates on are too different from what Aqua's revenge plot hinges on.

I've been fighting this feeling that Aquakane was more similar to Ishimiko since chapter 26.

Most people seemed to think otherwise, so I considered I was just seeing things and tried being more into Aquakana once, but I realized it required downplaying what really was going on with Akane too much. And the more I really tried to read Akane with unbiased eyes, the more I came to love her. There is something fundamentally missing for me to think the time Aqua and Kana spent apart is setup for a stronger SINCERE development now, and his protectiveness and admiration of her seem too rooted in the idea of salvation/redemption for Ai, which is platonic. Most of the time, the protectiveness he displays of her is too similar to Ruby for me to think it's romantic or concealing some deep forbidden attraction.

Overall, I think Kana is cute but I can't feel much for the ship. Her chemistry with Akane is really good too, I'm hoping the anime gets a second season for the Tokyo Blade arc because it's amazing.

Kana does bring light to Aqua's life. I can see it, but that reminds me more of Tsubame's role than Miko's..."The Sun".

She helps Aqua get in touch with acting again, he supports her and plays around with her, but at the end of the day, that always seems distant and only a symptom of Aqua's true struggles. He can be happy besides Kana, but it somewhat only happens at the cost of shutting down what is actually eating him alive, and what could have been if his life hadn't been such a mess of tragedies.

And Kana, despite learning the truth, doesn't seem to be able to grasp how deeply that actually affected Aqua, and how badly he is screaming for help. That he wants to be saved. She knows he is more hurt than what he says, but has no idea how it's dragging his whole life down a rabbit hole he can't crawl out of.

On the other hand, Akane sits besides Aqua in the darkness, and offers him some comfort to rely on, so he can at his own pace dig deeper inside himself to drag out his ghosts and finally heal his wounds.

Not only that, she has a path she'd like him to take, but she's letting it be of his own choosing. She'll stop him no matter the cost, but she's also teaching him the hard way to take the hard route of choosing his happiness for himself and to admit he doesn't truly want to toss his life aside for revenge.

The plot isn't all that similar. Neither are the stakes. But the deeper reasons that make me appreciate Ishimiko feel more similar to what I can see here.

This might get people miffed with me (onk fandom can get a little scary with waifu wars), but I see far more in common with Aqua and Akane's relationship. Through their "fake dating trope" relationship, they ended up opening to eachother and blurring the line of "I can't feel something for you" too much, and as of recent chapters are developing something closer to a rivalry and spite born out of love that is....*chef's kiss* more what I'm into? NEURON ACTIVATION IN MY MONKEY BRAIN.

LOOK AT THAT EX ENERGY....THE BITCH PLEASE EXPRESSION ON A GIRL THAT WAS ONCE THE SWEETEST CINAMMON ROLL EVER

FUCK YES GIVE ME SOME RIVALRY AND ANTI-VILLAIN SHIP GOODNESS. I'm sorry, but only Akane gets to see him like this and I love it

Constantly wondering what is a lie, what is Aqua concealing his feelings and having his expressions hidden is delicious. In a way, both of them fell for the mask ("the savior" and "the perfect imitation of Ai") but stayed for what was underneath (a wounded lonely person and someone who wants to be by their side).

Because Aqua, despite being shrouded in lies and using "It's a business relationship, a game" like a shield, truly felt like he tasted happiness and comfort. He felt understood and like he had an ally for the first time in ever, but he did not want to drag her down with him, despite saying he "just wants to use her". And he's willing to protect her by becoming hateful.

And this was the point of no return for me.

Aqua is still Goro, and no matter how much he tells himself it doesn't matter that he was dead like a nobody and that he couldn't connect to anyone after Sarina's passing...

Isn't that awfully lonely?

And yet, Akane was able to find him. She's seen his literal worst, most rotten self, and she was still by his side and grateful to him.

Does it matter how it started, then? Despite Aqua using her as a tool, she's aware of the best and worst parts of his personality. She knows how much his kindness is a heavy burden, and how it drives him to his most reckless self. Akane feels for him, but loves him for all he's done for her. Aqua doesn't allow himself to enjoy life or live for himself, but he has been able to put his objectives aside simply because he thought Akane needed help.

"When you fall down the stairs, I'll be there to catch you"....ahahaha

god help me, if this ship is going down, I'll sink with it

#onk spoilers #aquakane #kaguya-sama spoilers #kurokawa akane #hoshino aqua #meta #ana rambles #it's the I MUST SPEAK itch again

[franklymyqueeridontgiveadamn]

Queer Christmas movie recs

Breakfast with Scot (2007) An absolutely delightful feel-good movie about a retired NHL player and his partner reluctantly taking in an effeminate boy they are extremely not equipped to handle, and eventually becoming a family. One of my favorite movies of all time. Content notes: homophobia, sexism, mild violence, bullying, brief vomit, shitty parenting but I promise they learn their lesson.

The Christmas Setup (2020) The first gay Lifetime Christmas movie, and it's exactly what you'd expect based on that. Big-city attorney visits his hometown for Christmas, falls for his high school crush, saves the beloved local train station from demolition. There's a really sweet element of queer history involved, and Fran Drescher is great as the nosy matchmaking mom. Content notes: dead dad backstory, hilariously inaccurate depiction of computer algorithms.

Single All The Way (2021) Another home-for-the-holidays romcom with a nosy matchmaking family, this one with a fake-dating premise and a Black love interest. Jennifer Coolidge makes a good kooky aunt, and the main character's love of plants is very true to the queer experience. Content notes: infidelity (not committed by the main characters), looks like I didn't take notes on this one while I was watching so there might be more I'm not remembering but nothing too major.

Carol (2015) Oscarbait '50s period drama with Rooney Mara as a young saleswoman and Cate Blanchett as an older divorcee. I actually didn't love this one the first time I saw it, but last year I got an urge to watch it again and if you're in the mood for cinematic eyefucking it will come through for you on that front. It's a little bit of a downer, lots of homophobia and societal obstacles and ennui, but it's a very pretty film with a... maybe not happy, but at least cautiously optimistic ending. Content notes: homophobia, custody conflict, blackmail, mentions of infidelity.

Happiest Season (2020) I do recommend this movie BUT you gotta go into it with the right expectations. It was billed as a feel-good Christmas romance and it is not that! It's the coming-out story of a closeted lesbian (Mackenzie Davis) who treats her wonderful girlfriend (Kristen Stewart) like crap instead of telling her family they're dating, and you will come out of it screaming about how the wonderful girlfriend should have ended up with Aubrey Plaza's character (which, by the way, Aubrey Plaza wholeheartedly agrees with at 3:36 of this video). But it's well-made, it's really funny, there are a lot of good characters and good moments—it's worth watching as long as you know what you're getting into. Content notes: homophobia, bullying of an autistic-coded character, and honestly I think a lot of the shit Mackenzie Davis's character pulls counts as emotional abuse.

Tangerine (2015) A low-budget movie filmed entirely on iPhones, set in Los Angeles on Christmas Eve, centering around a day in the life of two trans sex workers of color. Rough and gritty, hysterically funny, a little dark at times but not tragic. Content notes: transphobia, lots of infidelity, racism/slurs, mild violence, drugs, one very brief scene involving the death of a pet (not shown).

#queer #queer film #queer movies #christmas movies

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 6 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: Homelander spends the morning after their first date musing on what a life with Layla will look like. Unfortunately for both of them, he's quick to voice his fantasy, which clashes hard with her grounded sense of reality.

additional chapter tags: somnophilia, cunnilingus, attempted sexual coercion, accidental injury, gaslighting, physical restraint.

With Layla fast asleep in his arms, Homelander is left to his own devices for the rest of the night. He could sleep, he supposes, but he doesn’t need to. He can go days without. Currently, he finds he simply doesn’t have the desire to be unconscious right now. He wants to savor every moment of this.

She’s here. In his home. In his arms. He inhales deeply, floods his senses with their mingled scents. The lingering warm vanilla of her perfume, the woodsy spice of his cologne, and the heady smell of sex. Amidst it all, he also picks up the distinctive rubbery smell of latex: the condom. Before last night, he can’t recall the last time he used one. He only had the box because it had been packaged with the lube.

He never cared to use them. Didn’t think he needed to until…

Homelander drifts in and out of his thoughts, stubbornly pulling back every time he feels a bristle of anger or grief. In one fell swoop he lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child, and his son. Stormfront may have survived Ryan’s rage, but he knows now that she was gone from him from that moment onward. She only cared about her agenda, not him. Left him alone for his fucking birthday.

Fake or not, what kind of girlfriend kills herself right before your birthday?

By far, the worst part of it all was Ryan. In targeting Becca, Stormfront had alienated he and Ryan from each other, pushed him into the hands of William fucking Butcher. Now he had no idea where his own son was, or if the kid even wanted anything to do with him. 

He never should have let Stormfront interfere. Homelander could have made things work. He was making things work, regardless of Becca’s misgivings, because Ryan needed his mother.

He still needs a mother.

Homelander refocuses on Layla’s sleeping face. She’s even sweeter asleep than she is awake, features soft, unguarded. She’s relentlessly patient, something that had initially frustrated him. He hadn’t been able to rattle her disposition at all during their first session, though he had certainly tried. She’s kind, she cooks, she even sings. Sure, she drinks a little excessively, and her “profession” is a can of worms to deal with all on its own, but overall…

He can’t help but smile faintly, stroking her cheek the same way he had that very first night he visited her in her home.

With a couple of minor adjustments, she would make a hell of a mother.

It’s a nicer thought to fixate on than any of the others. It carries him through the next several hours, taking him away from the sorrow of heartsickness and the losses he has unfairly endured again and again and again. Instead, he imagines what a home shared between the three of them would look like. A large kitchen, naturally, one that would blow her little condo’s setup out of the water. An oversized bath for the two of them to lounge in. She would have everything she could possibly need at her fingertips.

Ryan would have his own room. Big, with bright windows and posters on every wall. Baseball, dad’s movies, shelves for his trophies. Trophies that he earned himself, not just cheap little statues to create the illusion of a childhood. He would have everything that Homelander should have had.

Eventually, Layla stirs. He loosens his hold to let her adjust, watching as she rolls onto her back, the blanket sliding down with her movements. His gaze drifts down, and he’s possessed by a wicked little thrill at not only the sight of her bare breasts, but the bruises that mottle her flesh. He marked her thoroughly with his lips and his teeth last night, a myriad of them blossoming from her chest all the way up to her neck.

“Oops,” he whispers, playful and without remorse. That changes, however, when she adjusts her legs and visibly winces in her sleep before settling back down. Watching her for a moment longer, he follows the trail of bruises back down, adjusts his vision to look through the blanket covering her. Her hips are darkly marked as well, veins erupted beneath the skin in the shape of his hands. Her thighs, too. He can only imagine the state of her hips and pelvis, her cervix. He had been rough with her by human standards, but she had wanted it. Fuck, had she ever wanted it.

He should still apologize, and he knows exactly how he wants to do just that. He dips down to press a kiss to one of the marks atop her right breast, and then another between them. He kisses her nipple, savors the feel of her goosebumps beneath his tongue as he drags his tongue over it. Though she shivers under his touch, she doesn’t wake. He grows bolder, sucking her nipple into his mouth, eyes falling shut.

This feels like thievery, like snatching the proverbial forbidden fruit straight from the tree. It thrills him as much as it unnerves him to take from her without permission. Throughout his life, indulgence has been the most heinous cardinal sin. Deprivation has always been his virtue. He was never given enough of anything, lest he become a gluttonous beast with no carrot to chase, and no stick strong enough to beat him.

Denying him didn’t weaken his appetite. Instead, it turned his hunger boundless. He’s never had enough. He doesn't know if he ever will, or if it’s even possible. After a lifetime of unending yearning, he wouldn’t know what satiation would feel like even if he had it.

He keeps himself weightless to prevent the bed from dipping too much with his movements, lightly hovering as he slips down beneath the blanket, kissing his way down her sternum.

Her legs are splayed well enough for him to gently shoulder between them, arms slipping under her thighs, hands grazing lightly over the bruises shaped just like them. She smells divine, like seasalt vanilla ice cream, the smell of sweat and sex and her favorite moisturizer lingering on her skin, which is soft in his hands. She cares for her body the way a craftsman does their tools, keeping them polished and pristine.

It drives him wild to see her undone, blemished, ravished. It’s proof that she has given him something rare, that her rules don’t apply to him anymore. These marks belong solely to him, even if she doesn’t. 

Yet.

Settling his weight between her legs, he uses two fingers to spread the lips of her pussy apart, closing his eyes as he leans in, dragging his tongue from cunt to clit. There aren’t words for how she tastes because there isn’t anything else like it. Good pussy is a meal in a league all its own, and hers is some of the finest he’s ever indulged on. 

He gives a rumbling sigh against her, moving his tongue in leisurely figure-eights. He could—would—do this for hours if she could withstand it. He closes his lips on her clit and sucks gently, rubbing at it with the tip of his tongue. The pattern of her breaths change, her heart jumps, but she isn’t awake yet. She makes an exquisite noise in her sleep that goes straight to his cock, which has begun to harden against his soft bedding. He makes a matching sound low in the back of his throat, nuzzling into her cunt while he grinds his growing hard-on down against the bed.

Layla’s legs move, closing in on either side of him. He can hear her waking up, feel it in her pulse. A noise of confusion first, disoriented, followed shortly by the sweetest of breathy moans.

“Oh, darling,” she breathes, tangling her fingers gently in his hair. Her grip is weak with sleep, nails scraping deliciously along his scalp. It sends shivers trilling up and down his spine like a xylophone. He relishes just how pleased she sounds with him, how she pets his hair while her clit flutters against his tongue.

Last night's frenzied urgency is absent here. The drags of his tongue are languid, the slight roll of her hips loose and without much rhythm. It’s slow, intimate. He loses himself in it enough that her orgasm sneaks up on him, the smell and taste of oxytocin hitting him in a rush.

Homelander moans against her, plunging his tongue into her to feel the quiver of her velvety walls. He hurriedly shoves his hand down between himself and the mattress, lifting his hips just enough to jerk his cock. It’s a treat to come like this, with her hands in his hair and his mouth on her pussy. He sucks at her clit, milks her of her aftershocks while he pumps himself to release, luxuriating in the sharp little gasps she’s giving, how her fingers tighten in his hair.

He comes with a low groan, the sheets below him soaking up the brunt of the mess. She tugs his hair, and he obligingly crawls up her body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She looks radiant beneath him, dazed with both sleep and pleasure, her eyes soft, lips set in a gentle curve. It feeds something carnal in him to have done this to her, that she would look at him like this–with love–because of what he has done for her. She has no idea that this is just the beginning. Will she ever be able to fathom the lengths he’ll go for her if she’ll just give him what he needs?

“Good morning,” he purrs, his own voice a low, pleasure-soaked rumble.

“Very good morning,” she says through a giggle, cupping either side of his face. She kisses him lazily, meeting his tongue with her own, licking the flavor of herself from his mouth. He sinks his weight down atop her, slipping his arms underneath her, happy to kiss her until she breaks to breathe. “Insatiable,” she accuses, carding her fingers through his hair.

He beams down at her, gently bumping his nose against hers. He kisses her again simply because he can. Because he’s allowed to. “You would be too if you were me.”

Layla laughs softly. The sound of it warms him to his core. He watches her blink the remaining sleep from her eyes, smearing what’s left of her makeup as she rubs her face, stifling a waking yawn into her hand. He tucks her hair behind her ear, endeared by the way she leans into his endeared by the way she leans into his palm. He's so enraptured by the eager way she touches him, he forgot how good it can be when someone seeks his touch.

People flinch from him far more often.

They kiss again and again and again. It feels like an exploration, each of them mapping out the feel and pattern of the other. She tilts her head one way, and he goes the other, following her in this dance that he would prefer never ended. As always, she’s the first to break for reprieve. He allows it, nuzzling into the crook of her neck instead. He follows the line of her neck all the way up to her ear with his lips and gentle, grazing teeth. He barely resists the urge to bite. Intimacy is the only vice he’s ever struggled to not grip in his teeth and swallow whole. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, running her fingers through her hair, down his neck, his back. He sighs his pleasure.

“Great,” he lies smoothly. No sense in getting into the nitty-gritty of things. He did have a great night.

“Good,” she says, stretching her arms out across his back until they each give a satisfying little pop. He shifts, lifting himself onto one arm so that he can once again admire not just her, but his handiwork. He brushes his fingers over the bruises that are smattered across her chest.

“You hurt?” He asks quietly. He wants to be proud of them, he wants to love them unconditionally, but first he needs to know they haven’t cost him something in her eyes.

“Mm-mm, mostly just sore,” she says, twisting and curling his short hair between her fingers. “Very bruised, inside and out,” she says, to which he has the decency to look sheepish. “Do you have ibuprofen?”

“Uhh.” He racked his brain, trying to think of where he might have something as utterly mundane and useless to him as painkillers, but he came up empty. “Nnnnope. It’s, ah… Never come up,” he says, to which Layla chuckles.

“No, of course it wouldn’t. it’s alright, I think I have some in my… purse,” she says, pausing as she looks around. Her clothes are scattered from one end of the room to the other, but her purse is– “Shit, I left it on the balcony.”

“I’ll have it brought up,” he says, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before he lifts up, a slight pep in his step as he makes his way over to his phone: a landline. He’s always had trouble keeping track of a cell phone. “Could I have some water, too?” She calls out after him. “Roger!” He affirms cheerily. He whistles softly, making a pit stop by his fridge on the way to his phone. It’s lucky she only asked for water, as it’s the only thing his fridge is stocked with. He snatches one of the bottles neatly lined up inside, and tosses it absently while he calls to have her things retrieved. Once that’s settled, he makes his way back to his bedroom. She’s sitting up now, his dark comforter draped loosely over her lap. She’s fixing her makeup in the mirror to her right, swiping her fingers beneath her eyes. He watches her lick the pads of her ring fingers to wipe away the dark smudges at the corners, endeared. It’s such a simple, domestic little moment. 

She stops when she notices him staring, and smiles at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging slightly. His tone is soft. “Admiring the view.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, running her fingers through her dark hair to tame it. “Corny, but sweet.” “Always gatta humble me, huh?” He says as he advances, offering her the water bottle. She takes it, eagerly twisting off the cap to take a sip. He slides back in next to her, watching the way her throat works as she swallows. Everything she does is captivating in a way he never would have cared to notice before. Things he would normally find annoying she somehow makes delightful.

“If humbling is what you need, I will gladly provide it,” she says, her smile turning sly. 

Of that, he has no doubt. “What I need-” he begins, leaning in close. “-is more kisses.”

“Mmmm. Lucky for you, I’ve got a fresh batch,” she says, kissing him once, twice, thrice in quick little pecks.

“Christ, woman, don’t waste them,” he growls playfully, taking hold of her face and catching her in one slow, firm kiss.

She laughs against his lips. It’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt.

They luxuriate with one another a while longer. Homelander makes a call to the kitchens when Layla inquires about food, but he still isn’t ready to let her out of his bed. Everything is too perfect, too good to let go of. He has the decency to wrap a sheet around his waist when he grabs their breakfast–and her belongings–from the door, but he’s quick to abandon it to climb right back in with her, serving her meal on a silver platter.

“We’re going to have to get up eventually,” she says, taking a bite of the toast. He knows that. They will. He intends to invite her to his birthday celebration tonight, after all. It’ll be better if he doesn’t show up alone. The world is nowhere near forgetting about his most recent failed romantic endeavor.

He resists the urge to lick away the bit of jam that catches on her bottom lip, to interrupt her from her meal, to selfishly claim her every second for himself, to kiss her until she forgets all about that stupid piece of toast, and cares only to satiate her hunger on the taste of him. “...Hello?”

Homelander blinks, realizing he had gone radio silent staring at her mouth. He meets her gaze, and smiles. “What?”

Layla quirks a brow. “We’re going to have to get up eventually,” she repeats, taking another bite of her meal. “You sure you’re not hungry?”

“I ate,” he says, his grin sharpening wolfishly.

“Very funny,” she says wryly, though she can’t hide genuine amusement. She looks good like this. Domestic, even. He really could keep her this way, pampered and cared for. He can offer her more than money, more than mind-melting sex. He has real power in this world. He has so much more to offer her than anyone else could ever hope to. He could give her a real life. A family.

“I have a son,” he says, gauging her response carefully.

She shoots him a look of surprise, lowering the mostly-eaten toast to her plate. “You do?”

“Yeah. He’s, uh… We’re living apart right now,” he says, the words falling awkwardly from his tongue. “Things are complicated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says gently. Normally, he finds those kinds of condolences sound empty. Rehearsed. Layla always sounds genuine to his ears, the furrow of her brow carrying sincere concern. He wants to lean into it, coax more of that earnest care from her. “Is he with his mother?”

“No, no, she’s gone,” he says dismissively. “That’s a whole mess. I haven’t really had the chance to, uh, to talk to him about that.”

There’s a dash of befuddlement seeping into Layla’s sympathetic expression. “Was… Who was his mother, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No one,” he says, tone sharper than he meant to let it be. Things would be so different if she’d just let him raise his own son. “I mean, not… Not anyone you’d know, not anyone significant.”

“She is significant, though,” she corrects him, lips curving into a slight frown. He doesn’t like the turn this is taking: this was supposed to be a pleasant revelation. “She’s your son’s mother.”

“Yeah, yes, sure, she was. She’s dead now,” he says, trying to move on from that. “But what I meant was that she wasn’t, you know, in the news or anything,” he says, skating around any potential inferences she might make, lest she assume he’s referring to Stormfront or any other woman he’s publicly associated with.

Her frown deepens. He wants to choke back everything he’s just said and start over. He wants to go back to her sweet, pacifying sympathy. Not this uncomfortable, critical look she’s evaluating him with. It makes his skin crawl.

“Right,” she says. He hates that tone, the one that tells him he’s anything but right. It tells him she has much more to say than that, and that he wouldn’t like any of it. He bounces his fist on his thigh, agitation creeping up. This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. “You haven’t talked to your son about it? Was it recent?”

“Pretty recent,” he says, irritated now. “But that’s really not… that’s not the point. I have a son,” he says again, splaying his hands expectantly, as if he can restart the conversation with that. This is her chance to give a more enthused response.

She doesn’t. “Why haven’t you talked to him?”

“Jesus Christ, I just told you that it’s complicated,” he snaps, though he regrets the slip instantly. Her expression smooths out, cooling to detached nonchalance. Panic begins to set in alongside his frustration. “Don’t–don’t look at me like that,” he spits, exhaling roughly. He pushes his hands through his hair, and tries desperately to recalibrate, holding his hands out to her. “You were supposed to be excited.”

“Excited,” she repeats, tone even. He can’t stand how apathetic she’s turned.

“Yes, excited. I want you to meet my son,” he says, trying once more to extend this olive branch to her.

That gets a response. Her cool indifference falters, brows furrowing. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she says, some of that gentleness sinking back into her voice, but he doesn’t care for the sound of it this time around. Or maybe it’s less her tone, and more the words. He’s not sure yet.

“What do you mean appropriate?” He asks, features pulling into a tight, unhappy pinch.

“You–” she begins, pausing to let out a breath. She closes her eyes briefly, and then takes his hands into her own, pulling them down into her lap, bringing their faces closer to one another, leveling him with direct eye contact. “You need to talk to your son. That much is clear,” she says, squeezing his hands. He squeezes hers back.

“That has to happen first. As for me, I’m…” She hesitates, licking her lips. “Your son is grieving. I’m the last thing he needs right now. What he needs is you.I don’t know what complicated entails, but your priority cannot be introducing a strange woman to your child right now.”

“You’re not a strange woman,” he says with  a defensive edge to his tone. “You’re my–we’re–”

“We’re not anything right now,” she interrupts softly. “We’re barely a notion. One date doesn’t mean–”

“No, no. Stop it,” he demands, voice dropping low. He tightens his grip on her hands. “Don’t blow me off. You like me. There’s something here.”

“Yes, but–” She tries to twist her hands out of his grasp. “Let go of my hands, please.”

“No.” “You’re hurting me, John–” “Don’t! Do not fucking ’John’ me.”

“Why? Why not?!” She snaps, louder than he had been. It startles him enough that his grip on her hands eases. He blinks several times. He’s never heard her shout. Almost didn’t think she was capable of it. “You gave me that name! So why not?!”

“Because it’s not a fucking name!” He yells back, escalating right along with her. “It’s nothing! It means nothing! It’s-it’s a fucking–a goddamn placeholder. It was just more convenient than a string of numbers, alright? I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Her heart is thundering in his ears. Her bones feel brittle in his firm grasp. He could snap them without a thought. He immediately loosens his hold. Her expression is fractured by anger, fear, and perhaps worst of all, pity. It’s cloying, a far cry from her usual benevolent sympathy. He wants nothing to do with it. 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she says, tone level, but not indulgent. He badly misses that quality.

“Then don’t,” he says ardently. “Can’t you just stop thinking about everything so much?”

Layla’s eyes fall shut. She takes in a slow, calming breath, holding it a beat before she exhales. It gives him hope that they’ll recover from this. She tentatively pulls her hands away, and this time, he lets her. However, he feels a bubble of anxiety in his gut when she slips out of bed, and begins picking up her clothes. “What are you doing?” He asks apprehensively, standing.

She pulls her dress on, smoothing her hands down the front of it. “You’re right. I do like you,” she says, stuffing her undergarments into her purse. “But I can’t talk to you right now. Not here.”

He scoffs nervously. “You’re leaving?”

“I need some time to process,” she says, confirming his fear. 

His anxiety spikes. Everything was perfect. How did this happen? “Don’t be fucking childish,” he says, advancing on her. “Talk to me.”

“I’m upset,” she says plainly. “I don’t feel comfortable here right now. I want to go home. We can talk once we’ve both calmed down.”

“I am calm,” he shoots back, frustrated. “You’re the one making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t stop gathering her things. He watches her sit and slip her shoes on. 

“Is that really all you’re gonna to say?”

“Yes.”

That single word shoots a lance of pure fury through him like no other, but this seething anger comes with a sense of helplessness. He doesn’t know what to do. “Don’t leave.” He tries to make it sound like a command instead of the plea that it is.

“I promise it’s better that I do,” she says, standing up. “Before either of us say or do something we can’t take back.”

“No,” he says, firm and simple. No.

She doesn’t look swayed. If anything, she looks tired. Exasperated, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “You don’t get to say no to me here. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Homelander lunges. He catches her face between his hands, and kisses her with everything he’s got.It’s a desperate move. Maybe she'll taste that in the way he presses his lips to hers, feel how much he wants her. How much he needs her. She takes hold of his wrists, makes a muffled noise of protest, but he doesn’t let go. He can’t let go.

“Stop,” she manages to get out, pressing hard against his chest now. “Jo–Homelander,” she stresses, but he’s certain he can turn this around. If he can just remind her of how good things were a minute ago, how good he can make her feel, how good he can be for her, then she’ll stop this. She’ll stay.

The harder she pushes against him, the tighter he holds her. She twists, but he doesn’t want her to speak anymore. The more they’ve said, the worse things have gotten. He kisses her like he means to suffocate her, fingers digging in behind her jaw, mouth stifling hers. He can hardly feel her lips anymore, she’s drawn them into a thin line, gritting her teeth behind them. He steps closer, feels her bump into the bed behind her. If he can just–

Something shifts, and Layla makes a distinctly pained noise. The sharpness of it snaps Homelander out of it, has him letting her go like he’s been burned by the touch of her. Both of her hands go to her mouth, where she’s been hurt. She touches the inside of her bottom lip, and her fingers come away bloody. He’s split the skin against her bottom teeth. Her eyes are horribly glassy, and when she looks at him, she looks…

Disappointed.

Stricken, he reaches for her. “I’m sor–”

She sidesteps his touch, dipping to snatch her purse up from where she had dropped it. She hurriedly throws her coat on, covering up all the marks he had been so proud of just this morning. 

“Layla! Layla! Would you just–would you just stop? Please!” He follows her to the door. She’s practically running from him. He catches her wrist, easily stopping her in her tracks. He could keep her here if he wanted to. It would be so easy.  “Please don’t leave me. It’s…” He holds her wrist in a loose but unopening grip, gesturing helplessly with his free hand. “It’s my birthday,” he whispers, strained.

It’s not. He doesn’t know when his birthday is. Everything he’s ever known has been a sham. His life is a fucking joke.

Tears roll freely down her cheeks. He can smell the salt in them, smell her blood, see traces of it between her lips.The copper tang of it makes his stomach churn in a way blood never has.

“Happy birthday, Homelander,” she whispers back, pulling out of his grasp, and turning towards the door.

His hand falls limply to his side. The door to his penthouse opens, it closes, and just like that, he’s all alone. His eyes prickle hotly with tears, a tremble running through his core. He stands there a long while, feeling naked and vulnerable well beyond his nudity.

Something has just been taken from him. He had it, and now it’s gone. That contentedness. It had been bundled warmly in his arms this morning, only to be ripped away with such abrupt violence, it left him shivering cold.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pushing his hands into his hair, squeezing it until his scalp starts to ache. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He roars, catching a nearby vase in his hand. He hurls it across the room with such force that it explodes in every direction upon impact, and a particularly large piece cracks into the center of the mirror hanging on his wall, fracturing it into a web-like pattern.

Homelander stares numbly at his ugly, fragmented reflection.

Just us now.

He closes his eyes, sick of his own tear-stricken face.

I hate you. Chapter Seven.

#homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #my writing #eat your ego #smut #choo chooooo all aboard the angst train

[citrusses]

@hd-erised favorites ❄️ (so far)

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in this amazing fest and made it happen, the sheer talent on display was astounding. I can't wait to catch up on all the fics I haven't gotten to yet, and to find out who you all are. I adore you! [Now featuring reveals!]

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 32,826)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

This story absolutely knocked me off my feet. The layers of characterization are so rich; Draco is very funny but also humble and guilty and sad; Harry is very horny for Draco and it develops in a completely organic way from his initial animosity; Hermione and Ron are also excellent in the background. The pacing was one of my favorite details, from the way their relationship evolves in person to the shift of the narrative to epistolary and back. This is such a lovely exploration of growing up, an enchanting read if you want something beautiful, that’s sweet and comforting with a healthy dose of wry humor.

The Unknown Door by @amywaterwings (E, 60,979)

There is something wrong with the Bellcrest. The heart of the place beats rotten. Everyone says so. Where Draco is a magical property manager, Harry is a recluse, and they’re definitely not hiding from their problems in the run-down flats of the Bellcrest. Not at all. Not one bit.

One of my favorite things that fic can do is turn over the rocks of Harry Potter canon to reveal what lurks underneath. This story looks at the places left out of the light of the wizarding world, but asks the question: what if we treated the downtrodden and discriminated-against with empathy? What if instead of pushing them further down, we attempted to uplift them? It does this through the viewpoint of Draco, who is not fully reformed when we first meet him. His journey is the inverse of the mistreated beings of magical ability we encounter in this story: fallen from the highest echelons of a prejudiced world, he needs to find a way to see those with whom he now shares social status as people, and in doing so find a way to consider one more “dark” creature worthy of love and kindness – himself. And I haven’t even gotten to Harry, who has his own journey to undergo that’s deftly imagined through both character work and inventive magical systems. This fic is full of empathy and heart and humor; it’s sexy, it’s painful at times (I cried), but it’s so very worth the journey.

Historians by @oknowkiss (E, 29,987)

It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

This fic is such a damn delight. Harry and Draco are both amazingly rendered, the plot grabs you and does not let go, and there’s an impressive amount of emotional complexity hiding under the classic rom-com setups of fake dating and miscommunications. Oh and it doesn't hurt that the smut is top-tier, all-time favorite status; my brain pretty much short-circuited at the final scene. The setting is so well-depicted that you will feel the crisp air of the ski chalet in your lungs as you read. The banter is out-of-this-world. Pick up this fic for the perfect steamy, romantic, comfort-read (and because you simply must meet the hideously adorable Professor Monday).

Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet (E, ​​43,111)

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known... It comes to him as ideas often did: too late. Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

The prose in this fic is just *sumptuous.* We travel to many different worlds with Harry and Draco, and each is given detailed description courtesy of some of the most gorgeous sentences I’ve read in ages. This will put your heart through the wringer and, if you are like me, you will say "thank you, more please?" This fic made me think about physics and love and magic and how they relate to each other in ways I never knew I could, it was an intellectual and emotional delicacy.

Draco Malfoy's Foolproof Guide to Reconciliation by @aprofessionalprotagonistonist (T, 5,807)

Narcissa Malfoy’s determined to reconcile with her sister, which means Draco’s stuck spending time with Teddy Lupin — and Harry Potter.

I had to include this fic that does a wonderful job imagining the Malfoy/Black family dynamic, with Teddy being an adorable menace who helps to bring Draco and Harry together. It was such a sweet read over the holidays when I, too, was surrounded by tiny terrors. This story will make your heart grow at least three sizes.

Heliotropic by @sharperthan [ART]

Draco does not approve of the new gardener his mother has hired. Not one bit.

I was blown away by this art – there’s so much emotion on display, it’s a subtle and captivating story told in words and pictures.

And shout out to some of the other faves that I would write a million more words about if I had more hours in the day!

Once Upon a (Wet) Dream by @innerlillith (E, ​​13,510) 

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8,297) 

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8,488) 

Meddling, Menswear, and Magic by @writcraft (M, 18,739) 

The Inconvenient Death(s) of Harry Potter by @nv-md (E, 33,105) 

Two Wizards, One Bed by dustmouth [ART] 

​​Trouble with your tie, Potter? by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 6,719)

A True Entanglement by @thebooktopus (E, 10,243) 

#citrus recs #hd erised #drarry fic recs #drarry

[misslavenderlady]

Movie Date with David 🖤

David/Female!Reader

Summary: It's your first date with David after agreeing to date everyone equally. After hearing how Dwayne and Paul both made your fantasies come true, it's his turn to have some fun with you. Though don't be surprised if he likes to play rough~

This is in the universe of the fic "It's Just a Movie" by @theyreonlynoodlesmike, so you should definitely read that first (this takes place around chapter 13)! Please read that fic first and then my first gift fic ("He's Just an Actor") before reading this.

WARNINGS: Nsfw/Smut/18+ Readers Only, First Date, Groping, Flirting, Dirty Talk, Light Choking, Hypnotism, Seduction, Public Sex, Sex against the wall, Cunnilingus, Begging, Teasing, Illusions, Hallucinations, Knifeplay (fake weapon), Dom/Sub, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Creampie, Aftercare

When you first arrived at the movie theater, you were worried things wouldn’t go in your favor. After the last time visiting one ended in you getting transported to another dimension, you were pretty cautious. At any point, you could slip back into your world without any way of helping the boys with your plan to fix things. You could even end up in an entirely new dimension. It was all out of your control.

Your worries caused you to have low expectations for your date with David at the movies. It didn’t help that you felt quite awkward already. Even after being in this world for a little while, you were still out of your own time period, thrown off by the older technology and setup of the theater. You had long since stopped bringing your phone with you whenever you went out because the reflex of taking it out was too great of a risk. 

Hell, even with the previews not having the message “please silence your phones” like you usually saw, you couldn’t trust yourself not to do so out of impulse.

David easily picked up on how uncomfortable you were. That didn’t surprise you, as he seemed perfectly capable of reading anyone around him like an open book. You tried not to think about how his icy blue eyes stared at you while you watched the opening to the movie.. 

“You alright?” he asked. You were honest enough to shake your head ‘no’. Then again, he was so clever, it would be incredibly easy for him to catch you lying if you tried to say you were fine. You expected him to either ignore you or say something snarky. 

That didn’t happen. To your total shock, David peeled off the leather glove on the hand closest to you and held it up. He was offering for you to hold his hand. It was a small gesture, but it was definitely a sweet one. You couldn’t fight back the faint smile on your face as you accepted his offer and slipped your hand into his.

Suddenly, Michael didn’t seem so careless whenever he gave into small acts of generosity or kindness from strangers. Knowing how David was, a genuine act of affection was pretty valuable coming from him. 

Things went a lot smoother after that. You felt yourself relax as you enjoyed the movie, the anxiety you had before melting away the more time you spent with your vampire date. He had been tenderly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, which lead to the occasional kiss on your hand. Your heart fluttered whenever you felt his stubble against your skin. 

At some point, you wanted a bit more. Trying to be subtle, you moved closer to him, your arm brushing up against his coat. He snickered, clearly amused by you, even if you hadn’t actually said anything.

“Y’know you can tell me what you want, right~?” he whispered. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. Your body was getting a lot warmer now, being so cozy with him. 

“Fair enough”

You hadn’t seen this movie before, so you had no idea how long you’d be here with David. It wasn’t that you were anxious to leave; it was more that you wanted to talk to him more. Even after watching him on screen and getting to know who he was in this world, there was still so much you didn’t know about him. 

He must have been wanting to talk to you too, because he leaned in close and whispered in your ear again.

“Can’t help but wonder if this theater will show one of my actor’s movies at some point”

You smiled and shook your head. Of course, he was still thinking about that night you told him all about the actor who played him in your world. After hearing what an impressive filmography Kiefer Sutherland had, it was no surprise David would be a lot more full of himself. 

“I don’t even know if your actor exists in this world, David,” you told him. “If your movie is real life here, then there’s no director, no filming, and no actors playing the roles”

“Does that mean I can’t see some of the stuff you’ve fantasized about?”

Out of all the moments you chose to eat a handful of popcorn, that couldn’t have been any worse for timing. You had to keep yourself from choking on the snack, completely taken off guard by what he just said. With a confused look on your face, you set the popcorn aside and turned to your date. That devilish grin was perfectly clear, even in the darkness of the movie theater. 

“What are you talk-”

“Dwayne and Paul told me some of the interesting stuff you shared with them,” he smirked. God, you were gonna give the two of them hell for having such loose lips. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m well aware that my boys are all good-looking. I don’t blame you for enjoying more of the stuff their actors have been in. Or enjoying them, for that matter” 

Everything around you was beginning to feel blurry. Out of focus. All you could think about were the words coming out of David’s mouth. He seemed to realize you were feeling that way.

“After all, you made that very clear when you let them fuck you~”

Your cheeks were positively flushed now. The other boys always had something special to say to you to make you feel this way, but hearing this stuff from David was an entirely different experience. He was so cunning and confident when he spoke to you, and pointed out special things he noticed. It made you feel like he was studying you under a microscope. 

As intimidating as it was, getting the attention of the charming antagonist of your favorite movie was also quite the rush~

“Do you feel that way about me, too? Have you felt…pleasure from any of my actor’s movies?” He leaned in closer, eyes darkening as he whispered to you. “Tell me, sweetheart~” 

At that point, the movie on the screen in front of you was long forgotten. You couldn’t care less about the heavy metal-themed film when David’s eyes kept your attention instead. It felt as if he was staring straight into your soul, coaxing it out for him to take. While you were well aware that hypnotism was one of the powers the boys had, you hadn’t yet experienced being controlled by it firsthand.

Was that what it was? You felt so relaxed yet so eager to listen to David. To tell him what he wished to know. It practically made you shiver with excitement, and it was easy to tell he was enjoying your reaction all too well.

“Y-Yes, David…” you stuttered, eyes locked with his own. At some point, he had removed his hand from your side and slipped it under your chin. He rubbed his thumb against your skin, coaxing you to tell him more. It was just like how he touched that girl in the opening scene of the movie. It had made you swoon in past viewings, but now your heart was racing from the thrill of it happening to you right now. 

God, what you wouldn’t give for him to touch you in other places.

“Then be a good girl and tell me what got you so turned on. Tell me your fantasies~” he purred. You were grateful that the handful of people in the theater weren’t able to see what a mess you were turning into right now. David had you practically melting into a puddle on your seat.

A few ideas flashed through your head on what you would share with him. Would you be bold and tell him about the countless torture scenes performed by the one and only Jack Bauer on 24? Would you be a bit softer and tell him how Doc Scurlock from Young Guns made you swoon with his southern accent and beautiful poetry? 

No. Those characters didn’t fit David or his personality. For one, they were the heroes of their respective stories. Even if you didn’t see David himself as an unredeemable villain, you didn’t want him to get jealous and think you wanted someone seen as the “good” guy. It wasn’t so black and white in your eyes. However, there was one particular character that was more up his alley.

“Do y-you remember…when I…I uh, mentioned the movie Stand By Me?”

“The one inspired by a Stephen King book?” he asked, curiosity rising. His once cold eyes had a fire in them now, practically burning you as he gazed into your own. 

Don’t stop breathing, you reminded yourself.

“Yes…I know I told you your actor plays…a bully…b-but he’s not just that,” you explained. You were getting warmer by the minute, feeling rather embarrassed that you were sharing your dirty little secrets with David so easily. Even if he was using his powers to coax it out of you, it was as if he barely had to try. 

“Ace, the character he plays, is actually quite…dangerous” 

David was looking quite pleased with himself. Pleased with you. If you weren’t so deep under his spell, you would have frowned at him for being such a smug jerk. Instead, you melted into his touch even further, looking at him with desire. Even if he was flawed, that didn’t stop you from finding him so attractive. 

“Dangerous how~?” he asked.

“Well…th-the first scene he’s in….he…pins one of the main kids to the ground…and uh…t-threatens him…if he doesn’t…take back something he said…”

God, you felt really depraved sharing all of this. Of course, you felt awful for the kids his character had picked on, and you didn’t condone any kind of bullying toward them. It was just that if you were in that position, you would react a lot more enthusiastically. If it was David giving that kind of force, you’d enjoy it even more.

“So he likes to play rough?” David chuckled lowly. “What a coincidence~”

Before you could even respond to him, David slid his fingers down from your chin to the base of your neck, carefully wrapping them around your throat. It was a little scary, as you had seen firsthand how easily he could hurt someone with his strength. But you trusted him, and you proved as much when you leaned into his grasp more. 

“Y-Yeah..” you said nervously. “Actually, he does more than…that”

“Enlighten me,” he shot back, his words coming off as more of an order rather than a casual response. 

The hand that didn’t hold your throat slipped downward and wrapped around one of your wrists, tugging it onto his lap. You couldn’t help but softly gasp when your fingers brushed against the bulge stretching out the fabric of his pants. It was a damn good thing you were in a time period where security cameras weren’t really common because you didn’t want any theater employees catching you groping your date’s erection right now.

“He…um…pulls a switchblade knife on the main ch-characters…in his final scene…I don’t like that he threatens the kids…but…the thought of it ha-happening to me…well…it’s different~” 

You had to fight every impulse your body had to keep from whimpering as David closed in on your throat. It didn’t hurt, but the breathlessness you experienced made you feel so vulnerable to the vampire. It was such a rush.

“Wow. You really do find danger attractive, don’t you, baby?” David said. You could feel his cock twitching in his pants under your open palm. In a way, it made sense. After seeing him and the others have fun with reckless motorcycle races and bridge jumping, it was fitting that your more dangerous fantasies intrigued him. Aroused him.

He let you go, allowing you back full control over your breathing. You already missed his hand on you, but at least he still watched you with a hungry expression. It was practically giving you goosebumps.

“M-Maybe…just…please don’t kinkshame me..!” 

“Kinkshame?” he questioned.

“Sorry, that word doesn’t exist yet,” you chuckled, momentarily forgetting that David wasn’t familiar with the humor and slang from your time period. “I mean don’t judge me for finding it attractive..~”

He snickered, clearly amused by your attempt to backpedal a bit. For a second, you thought he’d end the conversation there and turn his attention back to the movie in front of you. Of course, you should have known better. David was not one to let something go when he found it intriguing. 

That was something he was about to make abundantly clear to you.

The hand that had been wrapped around your throat snapped forward to grab your wrist. Before you even had a chance to react, the vampire was pulling you out of your seat and practically dragging you down the steps of the theater. As you struggled to keep up with him, you turned your head away so that you didn’t see the people in the audience making any judgmental faces at the two of you. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the two of you dashed out the exit, moved into the empty hall outside, and slipped around a corner under a nearby staircase. The second he had you hidden in the shadows, David pushed you against the wall, both hands pinning your wrists up. Everything was happening so fast that you barely had a moment to comprehend what he was doing.

“Is this what you want?” David growled, eyeing you up and down with newfound hunger. “To be roughed up and used by the big, scary vampire? To be powerless while I take what I want~?” 

A soft whimper came from your throat as he pushed himself as close as possible to your body. If there was one thing he was truly skilled at, it was making you feel like a small, helpless little creature for him to tease and play with. God, it was really turning you on.

“Yes,” you sighed. You wished he would kiss you, but you knew better than to think he’d give you that so easily. Still, any touch from him would suffice. “I want you, David. Please”

“Then you better be a good girl and let me enjoy this pretty body of yours~”

David wasn’t one to waste any time. In the span of a few seconds, he let go of your wrists, got down on his knees, and sharply tugged your shorts and panties downward. Shocked by how bold he was being, you slapped a hand over your mouth so that you wouldn’t yelp so loudly. The two of you had picked the last screening of the night, but even with the empty halls, someone could still come by at any second.

“You take that hand away right now,” the blond ordered, lifting one of your legs out of the clothing. “The reason I brought you out here was so you wouldn’t have to hold back your beautiful sounds, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine as you watched David position you how he wanted. Your leg was shaking as he threw it over his shoulder. He had your lower half completely exposed to him, and from the way he was licking his lips, you could clearly see he was very much enjoying what he saw. He didn’t waste any time before diving right in.

“H-Holy shit!!” you moaned, fingers immediately grabbing at his spiked hair. God, what a mouth he had. Already you could feel his tongue deep inside your cunt, feasting at you and making your arousal spike rapidly. His beard lightly scratched against your skin, teasing your senses more. Your eyes shut and your head tossed back as you felt completely overwhelmed by David tasting you. 

Suddenly you didn’t care as much about a random movie goer or a theater employee coming by.

“Mmmmm~” he groaned in delight. One hand was holding your leg in place and the other was firmly attached to your hip. He was so ravenous from the first drop of arousal he tasted. Now you were positively soaked, and he was ready to consume every part of you.

“David, y-you feel…s-so fucking good..~!” you cried out for him. It was so hard forming a coherent sentence that wasn’t just moans and whimpers. 

You managed to open your eyes enough so you could look down at him. His own eyes were open and watching you carefully, fully focused on your reactions as he licked at your eager cunt. It was like a dream come true. THE David of THE Lost Boys was eating you out like you were a gourmet meal. If your heart wasn’t fluttering before, it certainly was now.  

“I’ll bet you fantasized about this on lonely nights back in your world, baby~” he teased in between kisses and licks. He was so goddamn smug, you would have been irritated if he wasn’t currently causing you to have an out-of-body experience with that perfect mouth.

Instead, you were completely docile to him, telling him all the dirty secrets he wanted to know about.

“Y-Yes! Oh my god, yes, David!” you whimpered. Your hips were grinding against his mouth, matching his pace as he sucked at your clit. “I’ve thought about you…mmmh!...so many times…fuck…you’re so attractive, I c-can’t…ooh…help it~!”

You thought your confession would make him keep up the act of eating you out. To your utter shock and disappointment, he removed himself completely, swiftly putting a stop to your pleasure. He rose back to his feet and met your gaze with an amused smirk, his lips glistening from your wetness.

“Nooo!” you whined, wanting to wipe that grin off his handsome face. “You’re such an asshole!”

That was not the best choice of words. 

His blue eyes flashed to a bloodshot yellow, warning you just how dangerous he could be if you provoked him. It only made your pussy ache more, which he could definitely tell thanks to his special abilities. David grabbed your wrist again and spun you around, pinning you chest-first to the wall. You blushed in embarrassment at the sultry moan that came out of your mouth from how he handled you. 

“Take it back,” he growled in your ear. Along with his voice, you also heard the sound of his belt jingling as he unfastened it. God, this was everything you’d ever wanted from David, and the way he perfectly recreated Ace Merrill’s words from the movie was the cherry on top of it all. 

“You can’t make me, David,” you teased, really pushing your luck with him. 

“Oh yes I can, sweetheart,” he taunted you. Even with your back to him, you had enough use of your peripheral vision to see what he was doing. He took the unlit cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and held it up for you to see. “Wanna see a little magic trick?”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant until your vision started going fuzzy. It only lasted a second and after some rapid blinking, you found there was something new in his hand. The cigarette was gone, replaced by a switchblade knife. It looked exactly like the one in the movie, a sharp, steel blade just inches away from your face.

Then it became clear what had just happened. It was an illusion. Just like the maggots and the worms Michael saw in his Chinese food. It wasn’t real, but David was doing it to play on your fantasy without actually putting you in danger. Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all. At least you could have some fun now~

“D-David…” you shuddered, turned on more than ever as you pretended he had an actual weapon in his hand. He seemed to enjoy this as much as you did. 

“I’m gonna fuck your delicious pussy until you give me a proper apology,” he said, lips pressed to your ear. You could feel his cock poking into your thigh. Jesus Christ, were ALL of them just naturally blessed with good sizes?? 

You didn’t bother thinking more about it. All you could focus on was how much your cunt was aching for him to be inside you. In order to get what you wanted, you nodded your head and moved your ass closer to him. 

“Yes, please” 

That was all he needed to hear from you. 

The vampire immediately began slipping his hard cock inside of you, his groans mixing with your own noises of pleasure. This act of making your fantasy real was a lot different from what you had experienced first with Dwayne. Your night with him had more planning and intimacy. This time was rough, fast, and dirty. It fit David’s style surprisingly well.

“Fuuuck~” David growled in your ear, the “blade” shaking in his grasp. Both of your bodies were adjusting to the intense sensation. You could already feel him so deep inside of you, and it was making your entire body shiver with pleasure. It was enough to make you whine and moan for him to start moving so you could get even more.

He got the message loud and clear. David grabbed the back of your head and pushed you firmly into the wall as he began pumping his hips forward and back, finding the best pace to fuck you like he wanted. 

“Goddamn, who would have thought a slutty little human like you would come into my life? It’s like you were a gift for me and the boys~” David groaned in your ear. Feeling rather aggressive, he grabbed hold of your leg again and lifted it upward. It wasn’t raised past the limit of your flexibility, and it allowed him to get a little rough with you as he pumped his cock in and out. The other hand still held his faux weapon up to your chin.

“Ooooh f-fuck, I…mmmh!...guess w-we both got…l-lucky~” you said with a breathy voice. He felt so perfect, as if your bodies were made to fit each other. You grabbed at the wall in front of you, desperate to hold on to something as he fucked you so openly. 

“Paul was right when he called you out for thinking about us this way. I like that,” he chuckled darkly. “I can’t help but wonder if you touched yourself on one of your first days staying with us. Did you get turned on knowing your vampire crushes were so close to you while you were in your bed?”

He tilted “blade” closer to you, letting it glide along your cheek. To your shock, it felt cold. Like actual steel pressed against your skin. You hadn’t realized the illusion had physical aspects to it as well. It made the experience Michael had even more scary, but for the sake of your stomach and your arousal, you decided not to think too much about it. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” David growled, gripping your leg tighter as he kept taunting you with the weapon. 

“Y-Yes..” you whined, all your dirty secrets coming out without a fight. “I...thought about…oooh god…one of you…mmh…sl-slipping into my bed…and…f-feeding from me~” 

You were practically dripping down the length of David’s cock now. If it felt this good to share your naughtiest thoughts with him and the others, then there was no way in hell you’d ever keep any from them again. 

“Just feeding?” David taunted you. The “blade” was brought from your cheek to your throat. A gasp fell from your lips out of impulse. Now you really felt depraved for liking this so much, even without any actual danger. 

“Oooh fuck…n-no,” you admitted, feeling a bit shy. “I wanted one of you to fuck me. T-To show…you found me as a-attractive…fuck…as I found you to b-be” 

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought David was smiling a bit more sweetly now. Even if plenty of girls in Santa Carla found him to be sexy, they probably didn’t get to tell him intimate details like this. Maybe it made him feel good to hear how you wanted him for all that he was. Both the handsome human side and the sinister vampire side to him. 

He almost lost focus, but was quick to put himself back in power over you. With the “blade” still pointed to your skin, he growled in your ear while he fucked you faster. It was damn near impossible to be quiet when he was pushing you closer and closer to the pleasure you needed so badly. 

“If you really want to show me how attractive you think I am, then take back what you said,” he ordered. “You got that, baby? Take. It. Back.”

God, he really was making this as perfect as you imagined it would be. He was so powerful and intimidating, and you loved every second he reminded you of that. You felt all the desire for him overwhelm you, your body aching to give into the desire for him. 

“I-I take it back! Ooh God, I take it back, David!” you whined, holding on for dear life as you made the prettiest sounds for him. “Y-You’re not an asshole…ohhh!...you’re so h-handsome, and strong and s-smart….and I….fuck, I just really like you..~!”

He was done playing games with you. With a flick of his wrist, the “blade” was tossed aside to the ground below. Your vision blurred for a brief moment while the illusion disappeared, revealing the cigarette you saw before. Now, with his hand free, David grabbed at your hip and fucked his cock into you as fast as he could. Nothing but moans and pleas and curses came out of you as you were totally overwhelmed by him. 

“Shit, that’s it, baby~” he groaned, just as noisy as you were. “Hey. Do you remember on your first night when you said I’m your favorite?”

“Y-Yeah…?”

“I want to hear you say it again while you cream on my dick” 

You couldn’t hold back any longer. In that moment, your head tossed back, your back arched and your body shivered while the hard waves of your orgasm came rushing over you. It all felt so perfect. The pleasure David gave you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You never wanted to go home if this was what sex with your favorite vampire was like~

“Ooooh God, DAVID! Y-You’re my favorite…! F-Fuck~!!” you cried out helplessly. Your blond lover was quick to follow you, growling like an animal for you as he gripped you tight and came as hard as you did. Warm shots of cum filled your cunt, marking you as his while he enjoyed every second of pleasure. 

You did this to him. You could die happy at that moment. It made you feel that good.

As both of you came down from the high, you practically sank against the wall, completely spent and satisfied. David released you from his grasp, letting you find your balance while he carefully pulled out. A pathetic whimper came out of your mouth because you already missed the feeling of him inside you. 

Once you both were able to think clearly again, he helped slip your panties and shorts back on before re-buckling his pants. You were going to feel that mess you two made all the way back to the cave. 

“D-David..” you whispered, carefully turning yourself around to face him again. He was looking quite relaxed, thanks to you. “I…that was…so amaz-”

You were cut off by him leaning forward to kiss you. It was the kiss you wanted since the night you agreed to help them all. The one you dreamed about after seeing his movie for the first time. And it was perfect.

He was surprisingly gentle with you, his hand tucked under your chin again and his lips so soft against yours. You all but melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding yourself close to him. He held you so tenderly in return, moaning softly while he savored the moment with you.

Kissing him reminded you of what actually made him your favorite out of all the pieces of vampire media you had consumed. Even if he was the “bad guy”, there was still that part that genuinely cared about the people closest to him. How deep down he wanted to be a lover, not a fighter. He may not appreciate it when people were against him, but he could be so kind to those he loved. 

Maybe one day you’d have the courage to ask if it really was love that he was starting to feel for you. 

A moment passed before the two of you let go. Both of you had the most love-struck smiles on your faces, clearly taken aback by all that had happened tonight. You were so caught up in the bliss that you nearly jumped when you heard the theater door open and the crowd exit into the hall. 

“Oh shit, the movie!” you exclaimed. Up until that moment, you had completely forgotten about the film, and now it was too late to catch up on what you missed. David just shook his head and snickered, clearly amused by the situation.

“Guess I really did fulfill your bad boy fantasy by making you miss the end of the movie,” he said playfully. 

You’re not really bad, David, you thought to yourself as he took your hand and led you both to the exit of the building. It was hard not to gaze at him while he looked for the spot where he parked his motorcycle outside. He really did make this a wonderful date.

“What’re we gonna tell the others if they ask how it ended?” you asked. He turned and looked at you with his usual smirk and a gleam in his blue eyes.

“Let’s just tell them it had an exciting climax~”

Tag List: @britany1997 @6lostgirl6 @american-idiot-jpg @herthinkersmanana @checkitoutmikey @riz-coolgirl @luv4fandoms @scarlet-fangs

#the lost boys #tlb #david the lost boys #david x reader #nsft #smut #ao3 fic #my fic

[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice | [1/?]

Original fic ft. my OCs! To be honest, l’m a little nervous about posting this—I’ve never posted anything with my OCs on here before—but I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope it’s interesting to someone :’)

I envision this to be the first (chronologically) in their series, so no context needed!

Summary: Yves needs a date to the party, and Vincent seems happy to play the part, for better or for worse. But a last-minute cold throws a wrench in their plans. - (ft. fake dating, heartbreak, a New Year’s party, and a cold)

—

Yves tries to be the bigger person about it, really.

He has every intention of never contacting Erika again. He thinks he never wants to speak to her again, and he certainly has no intention of doing anything in retaliation. Not that she would care if he tried. He tells himself he’ll take all of it in stride—the cheating, the breakup, her immediate engagement with Brendon—and never speak to her again.

The problem is that he and Erika were friends before they dated. The problem, really, is that they both know Margot, who’s throwing an end-of-the-year party—an annual occasion, and one which he promised her months back he would attend—and Erika is, without a doubt, going to be there with the very person she left him for.

The problem is, Margot knows he’s in town. He could take the easy way out—say he’s been called away last minute for some cousin’s wedding in Europe—and tell her he isn’t attending, and he’s half considering it when Erika texts him.

E: what are you thinking of getting for margot?

Yves thinks of ten responses to that, which do not exclude please do not ever contact me again and I’m definitely not going to the party if you are. Instead, he shuts his phone off, takes a run around the neighborhood, showers, makes breakfast. Then, against all better judgment, he texts her back.

Y: nice try. can’t have you stealing my idea

And he knows he should leave it. He knows that if he doesn’t show up to the party, everything will be fine, even if it means that Erika will get to tell her side of the story—frame her own infidelity in such skewed, oversimplifying terms that it will seem perfectly reasonable, and maybe even shift some of the blame to Yves in the process—to practically everyone he’d spoken to in university. It will be for the better.

But part of him is bitter. Part of him wants to show up to the party and show her just how fine he is, just how little he needs her. Part of him wants to show her that he hasn’t thought about her at all since the breakup. That he’s doing perfectly fine without her—or, better yet, that he’s better off now; even more ludicrously, that their breakup was one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. 

It wasn’t. It isn’t. He misses her more than he’d like to admit. But he can’t help but think it would be nice to even out the score, for once, after everything she’s put him through.

It’s that train of thought that leads him to… well, drastic measures.

“I can’t believe the year’s almost over,” he says, at work, to Vincent Gates, in the break room. “It really felt like it dragged at the start.” this, he thinks, is probably not a relatable sentiment to Vincent Gates, who probably keeps impeccable track of time, but at least it’s a half-decent setup to the next question he’s planning to ask: “are you going anywhere for the holidays?”

Vincent has been his coworker for almost a year now—ever since Yves started working with Evertech Solutions. 

And Vincent is good at his job, as far as Yves can see. He minds his own business, and—as Yves had told Erika when they were still dating—he “looks like the kind of person they hire for photoshoots.” He’s attractive in a natural, boyish sort of way—he has soft, feathery dark hair that hangs just short of his eyes; high, angular cheekbones, and a decent jawline. He wears glasses with wiry red frames, and he almost always wears ties, and he brings the same laptop bag to work every morning.

All in all, he carries himself like someone who takes himself all too seriously. And, most importantly, Erika has heard of him.

“I don’t have anything planned,” Vincent says.

“Great,” Yves says. Here goes nothing. “One of my friends is throwing a New Year’s party, and I was wondering if you’d—”

“I’m not interested.”

Really, it’s not as though Yves hadn’t expected this.

“Okay,” he says evenly. “Not a fan of parties?”

“Not exactly,” Vincent says, which is Yves’s cue to take his coffee and get out of here before this gets any more awkward. Except, then he adds, “I mean, if your friend was desperate enough to have you soliciting your coworkers…”  

Yves blinks. “I’m not allowed to invite my coworkers?”

Vincent shrugs. “We don’t know each other very well. If you’re asking me, I assume you’ve already asked half the office.”

“I haven’t.” he hadn’t intended to explain himself—or any part of this situation, really—unless Vincent had said yes. But now, he thinks, leaving things on this note would probably come across as some sort of clumsy proposition. Better to clarify while he still can. “It’s not really that sizeable of a party.”

“So,” Vincent says.

“So,” Yves clears his throat. “If i’m being really honest here, my ex is going to be there. At the party, I mean, with the guy she cheated on me with like, half a year ago, whom she’s currently dating. So I wanted to find someone to go with too. And you’re right—this is probably the worst place in the world to be looking for a plus one. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“And you’re asking me because?”

She knows you, he doesn’t say. “You didn’t seem like the type of person who would make a big deal out of it,” he reasons instead, with a shrug, which isn’t untrue. “That’s all. Forget I asked.” he swipes his coffee mug from the counter, turns to leave.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Vincent says.

Yves doesn’t turn around. Swallows down the faintest semblance of hope that those words stir in his chest. “What?”

“Like I said, parties aren’t my scene. But if one of us is getting something out of this, I would be fine with it.”

“Oh.” This is better news than expected. He doesn’t manage to hide his surprise. “Great. You’re a lifesaver, Vincent. I’ll give you my number so we can coordinate?”

—

Vincent texts him later that night.

V: Do you think your ex will ask me about you?

It’s not out of the question: if they’re going to pretend to be dating, Vincent is going to need much more context than what he’s presumably picked up from their limited interactions in the office. So Yves spends the weekend getting Vincent up to speed:

His ex’s name is Erika, they dated for two years before he caught her making out with a colleague at a party he wasn’t invited to, she hadn’t had the courtesy to pretend to be remorseful when he confronted her about it. (“It wouldn’t have been any more forgivable if she were remorseful about it,” Vincent says over lunch, which Yves guesses is technically true, even if it doesn’t feel that way). When they’d broken up, he’d never wanted to talk to her again. But they were friends before they ever dated, and half of his close friends are her friends, too. So naturally, she has her way of showing up in his life when he least wants to see her.

They’d been friends ever since their first year in university—they’d gotten close over sleepless nights at the library and pre-sunrise mornings with the rowing team (“Somehow you rowing crew doesn’t really surprise me,” Vincent says. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Yves says, and Vincent laughs.)—and when she asked him out it had only felt like a natural progression, like something that had felt so right he had barely thought to question it. The worst part of all of it is that he would’ve been more than happy to give her the benefit of the doubt. He would’ve been ready to forgive her, to dismiss the entire incident as a decision she’d been too drunk to think clearly about, and move on from it. (To this admission, Vincent frowns in a manner which Yves thinks can only be disapproving, but he keeps his mouth shut.) But Erika left no room for doubt.

Then they discuss logistics: on New Year’s Eve, Yves will pick Vincent up at seven and drive them both to the party. They’ll tell everyone that they met at work and that they’ve been together since august. They’ll say that they’re keeping the relationship an open secret between themselves and their friends, so that it doesn’t complicate things unnecessarily at work. Yves won’t drink, in part because he’s driving and in part because drunk Yves can be a little too honest for his own good, but Vincent can. Yves cares about catching up with Margot. Yves does not care about catching up with Erika. There will be maybe thirty people there, and there will probably be fireworks. They’ll stay for dinner, but they can both leave before midnight if Vincent has family or friends he wants to call. 

All in all, by the time Yves goes home for winter break, it seems like things are all set to go smoothly.

That is, until he wakes up three days before the party with a twinge in his throat.

It’s nothing he can’t sleep off, he tells himself. He’s just tired—he’s been busy getting everyone gifts for Christmas and New Year’s and getting them delivered; having dinner with Leon, his younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister; helping his neighbors set up their Christmas tree; running errands for the Miss Elodie, the old lady who lives across the street; helping Mikhail, his roommate from college, with moving in. He just needs a proper night’s rest, or maybe two. No need to text Vincent about it if this turns out to be nothing.

But the twinge in his throat turns into a terrible sore throat, which gets worse, not better, until it hurts to swallow anything aside from hot tea. He wakes up on the second day congested, with a tickle in his nose so intense that he has barely any warning before he’s jerking forward with a loud, miserable sneeze. 

He texts Margot first:

Y: think i’m coming down with a cold. do you still want me to go?

—to which she responds,

M: PLEASE COME 

M: (if you’re feeling up to it?)

Y: i feel fine

Y: just don’t want to pass it on if i’m contagious 🤧 

M: it’s about to be 2017, live a little

M: would rather have you here and catch your cold personally then have you skip

Y: haha okay, i’ll take some dayquil

Then he texts Vincent:

Y: i think i have a cold

Y: i’m sorry, i know it’s shitty timing. i totally get it if you’d rather not go w me

Y: just let me know

Vincent doesn’t respond immediately. Yves takes a seat on the couch, sets the tissue box down beside him, and tries to mentally prepare himself for showing up alone. On second thought, maybe he’ll have to drink, within reason, to get through the night. To put up a convincing enough act that he’s doing fine. To see Erika again—with Brendon, probably—and pretend he doesn’t miss her at all. To—

V: Do you need anything?

Yves blinks down at the screen. It’s not the response he expects.

Y: thanks for asking :) i’m good Y: just don’t want to get you sick

V: I’m not worried about that at all

V: I have a pretty good immune system

That seems like it could be true. Yves doesn’t think he’s ever seen Vincent take a sick day, much less show up to work looking anything less than healthy.

V: Just tell me if you’re not feeling up to it?

Y: okay

Y: i’m definitely going to go

Y: are you sure you’re okay w this? i would feel really bad if you caught my cold

V: Not going to happen. See you tomorrow at 7

Yves sets his phone down beside him, tilts his head back onto the couch, and shuts his eyes. They’re really doing this.

[ Part 2 ]

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #these two characters didn't exist until yesterday night when i picked names out of a randomly generated list #and then stayed up until 5 writing the first half of this #i realize a lot of this is tropey/cliche but #i can't remember the last time i had so much fun writing something :') #i think this is like very obviously self indulgent and it's just going to get worse #my fic #yvverse

[aphrodite1288]

Next up is Kyungsoo to wake up the Kadi shippers https://twitter.com/PopBase/status/1719448303954538571?t=o1KBI7WZGtqtFaVd2ZiCNw&s=19

First of all this is not the first time he would write such thing on twitter he did it in 2019 and in 2021 and 2022 before blabbering go read and watch videos and the story of Harry And Louis's relationship. You can't know better than their fans who STANNED them for 13 years now.

And don't compare them to Kadi, because each have their own story.

The thing is you should know that Larry dated though they were in a relationship in love but the world and industry was harsh on them they had to give up each other, they ended up on bad terms with Louis Choosing career, Harry later on wrote songs for his solo albums and he literally described louis and mentioned him in his songs he was deep hurt and devastated and did drugs and became alcoholic and became who he became now, a ball of a confused chic feminily dressed up depressed man . And Louis was discussed to have a lavender marriage and footages of Louis talking shit about Elenore his gf now his fiancé/wife, he said he's tired of this media setup with her and that he doesn't want to act as her bf and there was even a footage of him telling at her that he doesn't love her. There's a whole footage with his voice and face talking, after the video was out he was in mass trouble especially that he got attacked and he was seen about to kiss harry on the lips he was over him leaning literally and the band members told them the cameras are still rolling, they both became pale and stopped immediately, same day same interview the cameras were off but the live was still going and you could only hear the One direction members talking and telling Louis and Harry " you almost got caught don't do that shit again here" or something like that. I don't remember it's been years.

They were ruined by media and their company and Simon Cowell that pedophile who ruined them, threatened them to end their careers, and separated them with every will power he had, he made Them both date girls they didn't even know, or else he threatened them to cancel their contract and they were only 16 and 18 year olds teens. They had dreams. They had to give up each other for their dreams.

But what their stupid fans couldn't understand is that : "THEY FUCKING BROKE UP YEARS AGO ON BAD TERMS" leave them alone! Their fans didn't wanna leave them alone. They didn't wanna let them go and kept with the Delulu conspiracies and theories.

Before it wasn't conspiracies and theories , There were real legit footages and audios and photos of them hooking up traveling kissing trashing on their fake gfs, saying they wish they can be together, writing songs about each other describing each other while mentioning their initials in their songs, THEY HAVE MATCHING TATTOOS and THEIR INITIALS Tattooed into their skin! But later on they had to cover it with another tattoo which shows they ended their relationship, but some of the matching tattoos were kept. Harry literally said " Louis is my bf" when they asked him what's their status.

The theories came after they broke up and left each on his path with Harry broke. And devastated writing songs about Louis and always mentioning "L" and saying " I miss you L" "I love you L" doing the "L" sign on his shows and concerts, wearing shirt with "L" on it having "L " tattoo, saying his heard was broken by the closest person to him and it's a boy with "Blue eyes, thin lips, sleepy eyes" or something like that he even called his name or his initial in the song I don't remember the lyrics that was years ago etc... So they were a thing, everything is still on YouTube with proof and evidence and footages not just talk or conspiracy theories.

And Louis at first after one direction broke off, he was the one who let it drag on as he was constantly asked about Larry and if it is real and he never denied it he was actually entertained by the question, he's the one responsible for this mess he created, he never denied that he never dated Harry he just laughed it off and smirked and winked and hinted they're still together he was never annoyed by the question from interviewers and fans before 2019.

But when they broke up! That's it! Fans should have stopped! But they didn't and couldn't which is dumb! They kept harassing him, but it was partly Harry's fault as he was still mourning and couldn't move on and he still kept singing about Louis and writing songs about him and crying talking about him and their first dates when he was 16 and the place their dates took place and those places were confirmed by Larry themselves that they went to them together. But Louis was attacked by Larry stans and Harry's solo stans for hurting Harry because the latter never stopped singing about him , and Louis wanted this guilt off his chest eventually he was annoyed and it's not the first time he would say he is annoyed by "Larry" fans and questions.

And this account's admins all said many times " Once Kdiy will break up we will be the first ones to tell you to let go of them, because we don't do the Delulu here".

You saw how I'm always against the delusions of fans and I tell some Kdiysts here that they're being Delulu when they're being Delulu. I call them out.

So the moment there will be no Kdyi, with brave heart I'll come tell you " Let them go, stop your Delulu and get back to reality and leave them alone!" But for now, we good 🤣

They're fine 😁🤫

Why are you so triggered by Kdyi, it's okay don't believe in them. Ah! I get it ! You're mad at yourself for not being able to support your Kyungsoo Oppa " unconditionally no matter what he is no matter what his sexuality is no matter what decisions he takes" like you promised with yourself !!?? You're mad at yourself for not acception him the way he is like how you promised him and yourself. 🧐

Will you be happy if he dated a woman? I don't think so 🤔 I think you're the "Oppar is mine" type of obsessive fan? You'd rather believe he's virgin and never touched a woman than believe he actually is in a stable relationship with a man or a woman. I think both scenarios hurt you.

So believe whatever makes you sleep at night , Patricia.

[kindaorangey]

I don’t even know what sxf is but your art makes me want to watch(?) it so bad. (Feel free to pitch it to me!)

EEK THAT'S SO LOVELY okay here's the pitch:

spy x family is a manga-turned-anime comedy series - do not let ANY of what the fandom says let you forget this, because people tend to talk about it like it's some serious dark noir/forbidden love story - NO! it is a COMEDY SERIES first and foremost! and while the comedy obviously translates better in the anime, the manga is still mega funny. it takes all the best parts of comedic manga and anime - i.e. the hyperbolisation of everything to an absurd degree - and does it perfectly and consistently throughout the whole show. there's a lot of serious stuff i love about sxf, but the biggest appeal is just how fun it is to watch. it's silly, it's funny, it's fucking adorable and heartwarming. each episode is 20 minutes of joy.

and the premise is basically that a spy, loid, has to put together a fake family to pose as a regular citizen as part of his spy mission. and so he adopts a kid, anya, and then enters a marriage of convenience with a woman called yor, who agrees to it because living as a single woman in their country makes her an easy target for the secret service (which was a real phenomenon with single women in history btw!). so yor doesn't know loid is a spy and thinks he just agreed to help her out.

but yor is also leading a double life. she's an assassin, a very good one, and so she has 10x the reason to want to keep the secret service off her back. loid does not know that she is an assassin, and so they have a mutual thing going on where they try to hide their secret lives from each other while maintaining a fake relationship

and on TOP of that, anya, the daughter loid adopted, was a victim of wartime experimentation and has telepathic powers as a result. so she knows loid is a spy, knows yor is an assassin, is herself 4 years old and thinks they are the coolest people alive, and tries her best to help out with her parents' missions without letting on that she can read their minds. but most of the time she just uses her telepathy to manipulate her parents into letting her get, like, the snacks she wants. again, 4 years old.

very silly, very sweet, they're all hiding their secret identities from each other and form a united front to pretend to be a normal family to the rest of the world

and it ends up being like the fake dating trope (with loid and yor, obviously) where pretending to be married leads to sitcom shenanigans and eventually real romantic feelings developing. but the fun of the fake dating trope is expanded to the whole family, where the three of them have to pretend to have known each other and loved each other for a long time, have to work together to avoid suspicion from outsiders, and in doing so form very genuine familial bonds. this is particularly significant for loid, who intends to leave the other two behind once his mission is complete, so he has incentive to not get emotionally attached. but he can't help it. he grows to love them both. which is a very juicy emotional dilemma, and the impending choice loid will have to make about prioritising his family, or his work as a spy, is the emotional crux of the show.

yeah. it's an absurd setup done completely unironically with boatloads of tenderness and cuteness and comedy. it's sort of my favourite thing to watch ever and i highly, highly recommend it.

#sxf #asks #ellie tag