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#its just— he looks like he knows what he was doing
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I’ve been fired exactly once in my life. In my early twenties I was working at a pizza place. The pizzas were artisanal, thin crust and personal. They’re a huge chain now but when I first started the company was in its infancy. It was the wild west of management, and the core investors would frequently stop by to check on things. One of these people was this round little man with rage issues. A knock off Danny Devito with no charisma at all.
His favorite thing to do was to come in on a Friday or Saturday night. We'd be at our stations: taking orders, making pizza, manning the oven, finishing orders off, running the cash register. He'd shove his way onto the line and start rearranging people. "You, get off orders and work the cash register, you come over and make the pizzas!" With a line of customers snaking out the door he'd throw off all our grooves and rattle us.
Then, inevitably, a mistake would happen.
When it did he'd call the person over and say, "Hey c'mere. You're fired." Just like that. No inflection, just a flat "You're fired." It was absolutely a power kink, and because of his involvement the average turn over was three months. You were a veteran at five months.
One night there was only three of us manning the front. I took an order than went to the cash register to ring them out before I made the pizza. This horrible man watched that then called me into the back. I didn't know if I was about to be fired. But I wasn't. In fact, he had one other move besides firing people. He yelled.
In the back he absolutely lost his mind screaming at me for being on the cash register. I'm talking veins popping, spit flying, red with rage, this man just started bellowing nonsensically about where I should be and how I was just such a failure. It was truly like his brain had shut off, nothing he was saying even made sense. I stood there in the face of this tirade for a minute and then set a record for being the first person to ever cut him short by bursting into tears.
He instantly stopped yelling and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He was remorseful and consoling, deeply embarrassed by my display of emotion. All my male coworkers just took the abuse but faced with my weeping he about faced and instantly backed off. I went outside to cry and when I came back in he pretended it had never happened.
That was the state of things. The investors knew they desperately needed to keep this man out of the stores, but they couldn't just give him the boot. They needed to move him aside and fill his position with someone. The store manager was this lovely woman who had hired me on the spot at my interview. The entire staff adored her. She was the best fit to get this roided out investor out of the stores for good.
Her replacement was this man called Anthony. He was instantly loathed by the entire staff. Condescending, critical, and lazy he started off his reign by letting go a core lead who "back talked." He spent a whole morning berating the opening crew because the closing crew (who had sold 100 more pizzas than we were even supposed to have on hand) had forgotten to windex the doors. He left the entire crew to close without him while he flirted with a girl who wasn't his pregnant girlfriend. He hired his roommate to replace the lead he fired and even that guy hated his guts.
Our antipathy toward him made him paranoid and resentful and one by one he started finding excuses to fire the whole staff, certain that if he could clean house he'd be able to do the job. My time came, and he sat me down with his boss, my former manager. She cried as he announced I wasn't personable enough and used too many pepperonis.
I looked at her, the woman who had trained me on how many pepperoni to use, but she said nothing. What could she say? He was the boss now and had determined I was going to be let go regardless. Too many in this case was seven. Seven pepperonis on a personal pizza. The correct number was five according to him, which is one pepperoni per slice, and one in the middle.
I sat there for a moment, taking it in. I smiled at my old manager, obviously miserable. I looked back at him and said, "You're a terrible manager, you're doing the worst imaginable job." I outlined some of the things he'd done so she could hear them, then I stood up and left. I made it to the back room before I started crying.
I found out later through a bus boy that he replaced the whole staff with college kids who had such limited availability that the store couldn't run, then quit three months later leaving the whole place in shambles. Most of the old staff returned, but I'd moved onto the sex shop already and was enjoying a job with significantly less risk of being fired on a whim.
However I do have to disclose on job applications if I've ever been fired. I always says yes and list the reason as, "Excessive use of pepperoni." It has never failed to get a laugh from my interviewer.
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pucksandpower · 2 days
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Say My Name
Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader
Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before
Warnings: 18+ content
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Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”
The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.
You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.
“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.
Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.
You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”
No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.
Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”
He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.
You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”
But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.
“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”
You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”
“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”
“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”
Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.
The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.
Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.
Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”
Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”
Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.
“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.
You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.
I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.
Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.
Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.
Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.
Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?
Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.
No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.
Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.
“Oscar, what are you-”
But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.
Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.
With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”
Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.
The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.
“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”
He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.
“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”
Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”
Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”
He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”
The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.
The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.
After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.
He’s your everything.
***
Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.
“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”
His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.
When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.
“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.
You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”
“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”
“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”
Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.
On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”
A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.
When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.
Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.
It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.
Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.
He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.
When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”
“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.
But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.
“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.
“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.
His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.
“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.
So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.
At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.
All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.
Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.
“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”
His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.
“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.
You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.
His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.
“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.
The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.
It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.
Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.
“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.
More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.
At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.
The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”
He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.
Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.
Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...
Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.
You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.
When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.
You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.
When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.
“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”
So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.
At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.
When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.
As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.
For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.
Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.
You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.
Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.
Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.
Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”
He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.
“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”
He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”
Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?
Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.
“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.
So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.
“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”
His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.
“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”
You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.
And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.
Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?
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chaos-bringer-13 · 2 days
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Vlad, Dan and Dani move across dimensions to Gotham because of some bad stuff happening in their own dimension. Vlad has a lot of his money with him in cash, and they quickly get themselves fake id's as father and his two children. Vlad's plan is to keep low profile, wait it out and then return. Dan and Dani don't care about Vlad's plan.
Vlad is shady, Dan and Dani are causing shenanigans, and a bunch of coincidences leads to people believing that they're some sort of mafia family.
Some idiots try to rob Dani and she blurts out "Do you know who my dad is?". Dan emerges from the shadows, sends Dani off and makes extremely specific and detailed threats of slow and painful death to the would-be robbers. He finishes the speech by adding that they would be wishing for him to do all of that if his and Dani's father found out about the robbery.
Then Dan accidentally recruits a group of goons by beating up their boss and feeling kinda responsible for the henchmen.
Then Dani steals the talons.
Dan has a fight over territory with one of the smaller rogues.
Dani steals Scarecrow's chemicals.
All the while they keep convincing people that this is all a part of some bigger plan of Masters family. First it's just a misunderstanding, then they keep doing it to annoy Vlad. Some people think that Masters is just a surname, some think that Master is a rogue's name. After a while everyone knows that there's an up-and-coming crime family.
Vlad is entirely oblivious. He doesn't know shit. He ends up making a small organisation (restaurant? car repair shop?) to hire people who keep coming to him. He's not sure why his children tell all these people that he can help but they are in trouble, so he helps. And then helps again, and again. All the places he opens look like crime fronts.
Vlad is still unaware that he's a mob boss.
Maybe at some point Dan and Dani think that Vlad figured this out (because its obvious) but doesn't say anything because the police has bugged their house or because he wants plausible deniability.
Obviously all of this ends with the Bats deciding to confront Masters. It's also the perfect moment for Danny to enter.
Here, have a shitty meme showing the moment.
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Danny: I left you here fOR ONE MONTH
Vlad: It's not my fault!
Danny: I figured. Dani, if I give you a candy, will you tell me what the hell you've done?
Dani: What kind of candy?
Danny, handing out a Yellow Lantern ring: A Ring Pop.
Dani, snatching it: We accidentally started a mob family :D
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footygirl114 · 3 days
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Soldado (Alexia Putellas X Reader)
One of the prompts inspired me, so here ya go. It's definitely rusty but please let me know what we think!
Prompt: “Don’t just say that and then walk away!”
Walking up to the front door of the Putella’s home was one the most nerve wracking experiences you have ever experienced in your first 18 years of life. This home had become your sanctuary in the last 3 years, the family had taken you in and made sure you were loved and cared for and in return all you did was ruin the best and only friendship you ever had. 
You had grown up with an absent mother and a drunk father, to say your childhood had been rough was an understatement. You were able to fend for your self by the age of 6 and you knew to hide whenever your father came home after 8pm. When he wasn’t drunk he was a half caring father, but you could never shake the black eyes and bruises you learned to hide. The only good thing he ever did for you was to make sure by the age of 15 you had been a good enough football player to be in the training with the Espanyol team. 
This is where you met Alexia Putellas, she was this young superstar but she still befriended you. It didn’t take her long to see through the lies of where the bruises came from, and one late practice where you avoided going home she got you to spill the truth. From then on she made sure that holidays, school vacations, and everything in between you were invited to stay with her family. 
Her mom became like a mother you never had, and Alba was the sister you never had. But Alexia she just always remained Alexia, you never knew what that meant until you turned 18. You had finally realised that she was more than just anything to you, and that you were madly in love with her. Never being able to keep a secret from her, you confessed your feelings to her 3 weeks ago and you haven’t heard from her since she walked away without responding. 
Which brings you back to today, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door of the only place you would ever consider a home ready to say your goodbyes to the family you wish you still had. The last 3 weeks have been a whirlwind, and it took your drunk father almost breaking your arm and sending you to the ER to finally realise you needed to get out. You had walked the streets of Barcelona aimlessly trying to find a solution, and when the universe showed you a sign you jumped at it. 
Shaking your head you gained the courage to reach up and knock at the door of the house. While you wait for someone to answer you hope that you can get this out without breaking down. 
When the door opens you come face to face with Alba and you say softly “Hola, Albs.”
Alba smiles softly and leans against the door, blocking your way in, and she asks “what are you doing here Y/N?” 
“I need to talk to Ale” you tell her deciding not to drag this out. 
She crosses her arms over her chest and asks “Why would I let you do that? She shut down and hasn’t said anything for the last weeks and we haven’t seen you, you must have hurt her Y/N.” 
Shaking your head you tell her “I never meant to do that Alba, but I promise I just need to tell her one thing and then I am gone.” You know you sound like your begging and you hope the desperation in your voice helps. 
Before she can respond Alexia shows up at the door behind her sister and says “Alba its okay I got it.” 
Alba turns and looks to her and then turns back to you and says “if you hurt her again I will hurt you.” She finishes with a glare and then moves back into the house. 
Alexia steps outside on the porch with you and softly shuts the door. You take a moment to take her in, knowing this will be the last time you may see the women who has your heart. She’s in her most comfortable state, a pair of footy shorts, a soft hoodie (you note is one of yours) and barefoot.
You both stand there in silence for a minute and she finally breaks it and says “I am not ready to talk to you about it.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I came here to tell you one thing and then I will be out of your hair, you wont need to worry about avoiding me” you tell her softly. 
“what? Y/N whats going on?” she asks softly stepping closer to you. 
You take a step back and say “I’m leaving, I quit the team and I joined the army. I know you don’t understand it but I need to not be here anymore, and I need to do something thats for me, and will ensure I get away from him.” 
She stares at you and doesn’t say anything but a soft “Y/N.”
“No, don’t do that, this isn’t about you this is for me. I love you Alexia and I will always be in love with you but I cant stay on the side line of my own life anymore, I need to become the best person  I can be and get out from this dark cloud that is hanging over here. Its for the best, I cant wait to see you become the superstar I know you will be, but I cant do that here, watching it and knowing that you don’t love me back, that you aren’t in love with me. So this is goodbye Ale” 
You slowly move down the stairs and move to wipe the tears under your eyes, and you make it to the end of the walkway when she moves and says “Don’t just say that and walk away from me Y/N! Thats not fair.” 
You pause and turn your head towards her and says “what’s not fair is losing everything I have ever wanted because I have never been able to lie to you, I am doing something for me and you have to understand that.” 
You don’t let her add or say anything else as you turn your back on her and move to your car, you hop in and start the engine driving away to your new life without looking back. 
8 YEARS LATER
After 8 years of being a proper solider and training to better your self, you were finally able to settle down, and of course Barcelona would always have a hold on your heart. During your basic training your superiors noticed how easy it was for you to learn and communicate in many languages, add in that you knew how to fight and take it hit it made you the perfect soldier for a special ops team. 
During your 8 years of active duty you spent 3 tours in Iraq, Afghanistan and other War torn countries. And when you were not on tour you were either in the UK or the USA learning and bettering your skills to be a better help for the team. It was a long 8 years of constantly being on the go and when an offer came up to go back to Barcelona and be no longer on active duty you took it. 
They wanted your skills to help teach younger inexperienced soldiers and you craved the freedom and your bones ached for a stable home for your self. The Barcelona Police force hired you and were more than happy to have you work for them and also assist the army in their training. 
Barcelona was where you had your own personal demons, and you knew after 8 years of running it was finally time to slow down and face those demons head on. It helped you were much stronger and mentally tougher then when you were 18 and you knew you needed to face them head on. 
What you didn’t expect was to have to face one of them only a month into your new life in Barcelona. You had been out on patrol with your partner and were called to an assault at one of the smaller beaches in town. You got out of the passenger seat of the car and did a scan of the surroundings and you noticed a small crowd gathered at the edge of the sand and one person lying on the ground. 
You met your partners eye and you both walked over, you with your military training on high alert, one hand on the hilt of the gun at your hip, your eyes roaming the surroundings. When you got closer to the crowd you almost stopped, when you noticed who was standing off on the edge of the crowd but you pushed through when you saw the guy on the ground get up and start to run at someone else in the crowd. You and your partner both sprang into action and got in between them and the guy you were holding tried to take a swing at the other and you easily subdued him and had him on his back with his hands locked behind his back in the blink of an eye. 
Once he was secure with the handcuffs on your hip you hopped up and hauled him up with you, you turned and met your partners eyes who nodded at you and had his guy also in cuffs. He turned to the crowd and asked for any witnesses to what happened, as you moved your guy to the car and sat him in the back seat. 
You sat him down and asked him his side of the story. After listening to his side you closed the door and left him in the car as a second patrol car rolled up for the second guy. You nodded to them and mentioned the guy int he back of your car and you walked back to the crowd. You took a deep breath and readied your self to face the first of your demons. 
“Who’s next to be interviewed?” you asked your partner as you walked up beside him, and he pointed to the group of 3 girls to the left.
Moving towards them you introduced your self “Hola, I am Officer Y/L/N and I will need to see your IDs and then I can take your statement.” They all handed their IDs over and as you were matching them and recording their names and information you couldn’t help but take a peak at the women who held your heart. 
You hadn’t seen her since that day 8 years ago on her mothers front steps, you had followed her career and you knew she was in the middle of a miracle season and she was on track to win everything. Seeing her on the computer screen through a grainy stream wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. Just looking at her was slowly igniting that spark inside you that you thought you had buried 8 years ago. 
“Can one of you tell me what happened?” you ask them ready to take notes and keep this professional. 
“so basically, we were lying here and the guy in your car came up and started to give us a bit of a hard time, but were used to it. SO we told him to leave us alone, and then the guy there with your partner walked up and tried to defend us, and the other guy just threw a punch at him.” You had their IDs so you knew this was Maria Leon who explained it. 
“they started going at each other and thats when Ale called 911, the commotion drew more people over and they stopped fighting when they had a crowd and then you guys showed up.” Jennifer Hermoso explained the rest to you. 
“thank you, so to be clear, the one in the back of the car threw the first punch and harassed you?” you asked wanting to finish this up. 
Maria smiled and said “I wouldn’t say harassed, we can take care of ourselves, but yes he started it and threw the first punch.”
“And you both agree?” you ask.
“Yep, he did” Jennifer agrees. 
Alexia just nods and remains silent through the whole exchange. You nod and say “okay this clears things up, someone may be in touch but you are free to go.”
The two of them smile and say their thanks and move to leave, but Alexia remains standing in front of you silent. 
“ale you coming?” Jennifer asks her and it seems to shake her out of it and she nods and moves to gather her stuff. 
You nod at nothing and move to go back to your partner, you both agree you to the statement you got from different people and then you move to walk back to the car together. Before you can get half way there you turn back and look toward Alexia and you meet her eyes, as she’s still watching you. 
It takes your partner nudging you for you to break contact and you move to get into the car. before you can fully sit you hear “Officer Y/LN” yelled out behind you and you turn and see Alexia moving quickly towards you, you close the door and step towards her and away from your partner hearing the exchange. 
“Yes Alexia?” you ask her softly as she stops a foot from you. 
“You’re back?” she asks you to the point. 
“I am” 
“for good?” she asks you again straight to the point.
“I think so yeah” 
“okay then.” she says and moves to walk away. 
“thats it?” you ask her confused. 
She shrugs and half turns to you and says “How does it feel being on the other end of someone walking way from you? It sucks, being left to wonder what they mean and what they are going to do.” 
You can feel the pang in your heart listening to how broken she sounds and you ask her “Can we talk about it?” 
“now you want to talk? What happened to talking 8 years ago?” she turns on you half shouting and you know that she’s drawn and scene. 
“ale, please can we talk somewhere not here, and not when I am on duty?” you ask her. 
She looks around and shakes her head and says “you know where to find me, if you even want to.” As she finishes she jogs away towards her friends and you are left standing there wondering if this is a demon you will be able to tame, or if you were doomed to be in love with someone you can never have. 
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dante-mightdie · 1 day
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just a thought that i thought of after reading the angst fics 😖:
Pretend the guy who took her home was some rando she became close with at the bar, and that she told him about all her troubles and issues that she encountered with 141 recently. He comforted her and then they drank together yadayadayada he takes her home, the boys tuck her in despite them being mad, the cute “princess” moment, then morning.
When morning comes, they all talk it out, only catch is that now they’re back at square one when getting Reader to open up, and get intimate. Let alone even hug them.
Another catch is that they seemed more comfortable with literally anyone else BUT them. They all went out? Reader brings the guy friend to come along, then falls asleep on his shoulder accidentally, even though Gaz offered his shoulder first instead. They all are gonna cuddle and sleep in the same bed together and want Reader to join in? Reader opts for a plushed animal (The big plushies— Like a giant bear or shark) instead. It was like getting Ghost to let down his walls, just a little harder since instead of short answer “no’s” and grunts, they’d feel like they’re bullying Reader even though all they asked was want they want for breakfast.
Ex: *They all are talking, then Price turns to Reader* “Where do you wanna go out tonight, sweets?”
Reader: *literally sweating and looking at every other place thats not any of them, fiddling with their fingers as they mutter out a soft,* “Dunno.”
here’s a lil something something i’ve been thinking about
c/w: reader has trust issues, boys attempt to make amends, not a happy ending really but still more to come, panic, anxiety
it had been a stressful few weeks for you after that night at the bar
when the morning came, you woke up to find yourself in the centre of their bed. sheets all tangled with up in the knot of limbs made up by you and your lovers. heavy arms slung over your waist and sleeping faces smushed into the side of your neck
this may have been the norm for you a few weeks ago but with recent events, this makes you feel trapped. especially since you can’t recall the events of the previous night. your brain had switched off after your fourth daiquiri
you must have gotten hammered and crawled into the bed after hours, you think to yourself. must have gotten so lonely and desperate that you crawled into their bed. you have to get up and leave before they find you
you carefully pull their arms from you, untangling your legs with a painfully slow pace. no risky movements. when you think you’re just about to make it, you feel a strong arm snaking its way back around your waist and pulling you straight back into the flesh pile
“where’re you goin’, darlin’?” price grumbles in your ear, his prickly bread tickling your skin when he pushes his face back into the side of your neck. your eyes widen at the situation you’ve found yourself in
price perks up a bit, lifting his head when he feels you push at this arm wrapped around you like you want it off. he lifts his arm slightly for you. you twist and turn to get out of his grip, scrambling to your feet and watching him with a nervous expression
“woah, calm down. please don’t act like i’m going to hurt you, you know I’d never do that.” price says with a soft tone, hands out in surrender as you step away from the bed. he frowns at your skittery nature
“what happened last night? why am I in your room?” you ask, wrapping your arms around you for comfort. your hands feel soft cotton rather than the black silk you wore the night before and you look down to see one of soaps old band t-shirts, “did I put this on?”
the boys begin to stir awake at the sound of hushed voices. soft groans and joints clicking filling the room but you don’t take your eyes off of john’s. he seems sad, like you’ve just subtly devastated him
“you came home in a bit of a state so we bought you to bed. why’d you look so nervous, honey?” john coos, the rest of the boys are fully awake now, sat up and watching this scene unfold in front of them
feeling all those sets of eyes on you makes you close up, looking down at the floor and not saying a word. like you’re trying to make yourself small, hard to see and perceive
john climbs out of bed next, placing a gentle hand on the top of your head. “let’s go get something to eat, yeah? we all have a lot to talk about today.”
all you can do is stand rigid and stare at them with shock splattered on your face as they all climb out of bed, walk over to you and plant a kiss on your forehead before following john downstairs
you stare at the empty doorway for a few minutes before creeping downstairs, brow furrowed the whole time as you watch them move around in the kitchen. john grips your tense shoulders and nudges you into a seat before placing a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of you
johnny and kyle are setting the table, smiling at you and asking how you slept. playfully scolding you for drinking too much before popping a few painkillers in front of you. you feel like you’ve been placed in the middle of a tv sketch. like at any moment someone with a camera is gonna run out and tell you that you’re being punked
“how was your night out, darling? we see you made a new friend.” john gives you his classic close lipped smile, the one you used to tell him made him look like a quokka. you jerk away when you feel simon walk over, ruffle your hair and place a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you wordlessly
“uh… it was… fine.” you mumble, staring down at the ceramic bowl. kyle connects his phone to the speaker, letting the kitchen become filled with morning news reports and music as they cook breakfast. you barely touch the food they put in front of you, your paranoid brain telling you that something bad was about to happen
they fill the tables with plates full of food, all the fixings for me a full-english and more. fruit and pastries, jugs of freshly squeezed juice, courtesy of kyle and that ridiculously expensive juicer that he asked john to buy him. they start helping themselves to the food, piling their plates high whilst you just sit there anxiously, hands kept firmly in your lap
your coffee has since gone cold, only taking one sip to help you wash down the painkillers. you can’t take it anymore. you don’t like how normal they’re acting, as if they haven’t spent the past few weeks putting you through hell at home,
“need to do the food shop today. why don’t you come with me, princess? we’ll pick up some lunch and sit in the garden. the weather is-“ john begins talking but you just cut him off
“what the actual fuck are you talking about, john?” you blurt out, hand coming up to silence him. everyone stops eating and turns to look at you. “have you lost the plot? why are you acting like everything is just normal?”
“I ken it’s been a difficult few weeks for ye, hen but we just want-“ johnny begins to speak, a frown tugging at his lips as he reaches his hand across the table to grab yours. you snatch it away, looking at him like he was insane
“I don’t give a fuck what you want!” you scoff, snatching your hand away before he can touch you, “I don’t know what joke you lot are playing on me but it’s not funny. I can’t- I don’t- just fucking stop, okay!?”
you struggled to find your words for a moment before bursting out, your lip wobbling and eyes welling up before you stand from the table abruptly. you turn on your feet and storm upstairs, going straight to your room and slamming the door
the second the it’s closed you slide down the wooden door, tears falling from your eyes as you bury your face in your hand. meanwhile, downstairs the kitchen is silent. cutlery placed firmly on the table, untouched as all the boys comprehend the situation they’re in
“we fucked up.”
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arieslost · 3 days
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ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with
anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔
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1:30 am | ln4
you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.
“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”
“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.
something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.
now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.
which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.
“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.
“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.
“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”
“yeah, if you want me to.”
“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.
you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”
“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”
“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.
“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”
he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”
“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”
“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.
“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.
“stop laughing then!”
“you stop!”
naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.
“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.
“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”
“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.
a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.
“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”
“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.
“ooh, lemme feel.”
“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”
“not my fault you’re weird and british.”
“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”
“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”
he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”
you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”
you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.
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word count: 790
masterlist — join my tag list here!
note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
dividers by @/saradika
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in-another-april · 2 days
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okayy but sharing clothes with spencer? maybe you’re new into your relationship and you spend the night for the first time, then in the morning he sees you in a sweatshirt of his and 😵‍💫😵‍💫
TEEHEEE!!!! (i kinda hate how i wrote this but ehh its cool)
The first time you do it is during the morning after your first night together, you wear one of his old college sweatshirts because his apartment is so cold (and maybee you wanted to be all cute and coupley, but you didn’t hear it from me.)
He freezes as soon as he sees you, immediately turning into a blushing mess because oh my god!! you’re so !!!!! You turn his brain into mush, he is so infatuated it’s not even funny (…it’s a little funny.)
At first you worry that you’ve made him uncomfortable, his face so red he looks like he’s about to pass out. But then he’s crowding into your space to kiss you, mumbling a “you look nice..” against your lips and Oh. That’s what this is.
And after that, he grants you full, complete access to his closet! You thought it was impossible for him to get clingier and touchier, but he somehows manages to everytime you wear his clothes.
Sometimes you’ll mess with him and wear a jacket of his to work, one that’s basic enough that no one else can tell. But he knows and it effectively ruins his ability to focus whenever you’re in the room, he hates (loves) it.
Maybe it’s just knowing that they’re his, but everything he owns is so comfortable and soft! He likes to wear them after you do because then they smell like you :( he’s down badd.
masterlist | inbox ♡
taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons @spencereidapologist @lyd14k4y @luvkatryna (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)
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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 days
Text
followed (part one)
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words: 1.2k
warnings: stalker (not rafe), violence, rafe beats someone up but the guy is a creep
followed (part one) / accused (part two)
“hey.” you whisper, ducking under the man's outstretched arm as he looks at the various snacks on the shelf. “pretend you know me, please. i'm being followed.”
rafe doesn't really question it, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and smiling down at you, just as a man turns down the aisle. 
“there you are, baby!” you put on a big smile, eyes still wide, telling the truth of your feelings as rafe can see how nervous you are. “been looking all over the store for you!”
rafe can see the guy, overdressed in lots of layers of jackets, physically deflates when he sees you're no longer alone and defenseless.
“sorry, babe. i got caught up with the snacks.” rafe laughs, grabbing a random bag off the shelf and dropping it into his basket. 
“its okay.” you shake your head. “just happy we're back together.”
rafe keeps you close to him, arm wrapped around your shoulder as the man moves away. you let out a sigh of relief, head tipping forward to rest against rafes chest.
“thank you.” you say before straightening up and taking a step back.
“no problem.” rafe could tell how pretty you were from the moment he saw you, but now that you're not riddled with nerves, he can see that you're gorgeous. he shifts the basket to his other hand as he reaches out. “im rafe.”
“y/n.” you shake his hand, palm still slightly sweaty.
“let me stick with you while you shop, yeah? just in case he comes back.”
“oh my god, i would really appreciate that.” you lay a hand over your chest. “i dropped my basket a couple aisles back when he turned down the same row.”
rafe follows you, keeping his head on a swivel. he knows he can take the guy, he looked on the older side from the brief glance rafe had at him, but that doesn't mean he wants to get surprise attacked.
“i don't have much more that i need to grab.” you explain to rafe, walking just a step in front of him, causing you to turn down the aisle first.
you gasp and back up into rafe when you realize the same man is now hovering over your basket, waiting on you to return to it.
“i got you.” rafe whispers, dropping his basket, causing it to clatter against the floor. the man glares and doesn't back off like rafe was hoping he would.
“back away from my girls shit.” he growls out, dropping his voice. 
“oh yeah, what are you gonna do? beat me up and then get arrested? there's cameras everywhere.” the man says, taking a step forward.
rafe is quick to reposition himself to stand in front of you. “and then those same cameras will see you following my girlfriend all over the store. get out before i beat your ass.”
the man looks rafe up and down before rushing away, hopefully finally actually leaving.
“shit.” you let out a whine, causing rafe to quickly whip around to face you, seeing tears welling up in your eyes.
“hey, you're safe now.” rafe says, placing his hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing them. when the tears break loose and slide down your cheeks, he pulls you forward into his chest, allowing you to sniffle until you've got yourself under control.
“sorry.” you laugh awkwardly, wiping away the tears before realize you'd left most of them as a stain on rafes shirt.
“it's okay.” he says. “men who mess with women and kids are the worst.”
you nod in agreement. “i don't know how to thank you…”
“you can thank me by not wasting your tears on that creep, alright?”
you nod as rafe grabs your basket, not handing it to you as he picks up his own. “what else do you need to get?” he asks.
“um, just some snacks.” you follow rafe as he confidently walks through the store.
you finish your shopping together before heading to the checkout. rafe doesn't even let you argue as he pays for what you have in your basket, a little shocked by how much he makeup costs, but he knows it won't dent his bank account.
“shouldn't i have paid for you since you helped me?” you ask as you walk out of the store, glad that the parking lot is lit up with street lights, as the sun has set.
“nah.” rafe just smiles at you. “now where's your car? wanna make sure you get in safe.”
you lead him towards your jeep, watching his muscled arms as he puts your couple bags into the trunk.
“thanks so much. i… i don't even want to think about what would have happened to be if you weren't there.” you take a deep breath.
“hey, don't worry about it.” rafe watches you climb into your car, giving him a small wave before taking off. rafe watches you leave, turning out onto the street before walking to his car. 
hes about to pull out of his parking spot himself when he sees a beat up sedan sat in the darkest spot of the lot, right under a burnt out light. rafe squints into the darkness, letting out a growl when his suspicions are right. 
he leaves his car, not bothering to sneak as he walks up and taps on the window. the man is disgruntled but rolls it down.
“there's cameras in the parking lot too.” he says.
“yeah, but it's pretty dark right here.” rafe looks around before reaching into the open window, holding the man by the collar while his other fist pummels into him, hitting his face over and over until it's a bloody, bruised mess.
“that'll teach you to never mess with poor defenseless women ever again, fucking creep.” rafe isn't finished yet though as he spits onto the man, taking the keys out of the car and tossing them away, leaving the man to have so scrounge on the ground for them later.
“shit.” rafe turns around to see your car is back in the parking lot, your eyes wide as you watch him from the drivers seat.
rafe wipes the blood off his knuckles onto the guys shirt before walking over to your jeep.
“im sorry you had to see that.” rafe says as you step out, piece of paper in hand.
“it… its okay.” you shake your head. “im glad you did that.” you're not one for violence, but the creep had it coming.
“are you okay?” rafe asks, not sure why you came back, but he's glad to see you again.
you stick your hand out, giving the paper to rafe. “came back to give you my number. can't believe i left without doing that.”
“ah.” rafe smirks. “seeing me beat up that guy didn't make you change your mind?” he sticks the paper into his pocket, knowing he's going to pull it out the second you're gone to save it to his phone then memorize the digits.
“not at all.” you admit, looking down at your feet. “if anything, it makes me like you more.”
“dinner this friday?” rafe doesn't want to wait to plan out your date, needing to know before letting you go when he will see you again.
“that's too far away. how about tomorrow?” 
rafe is surprised how forward you are, but grateful for it as he nods. “ill text you.”
“ill be waiting.”
sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie
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moonstruckme · 3 days
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I know nothing about spencer actually, since I never watch his series. But I read on one of your fics that spencer is germphobia?
Could I request one where spencer gets home after a case for a week and found reader sick in the bathroom?, and she's kinda locked herself since she knows spencer germphobia?
You know that kind of fever where you sweat and throw up nonstop
It's been so long after you write spencer. I miss your spencer a lottttttt TnT
Thank you for requesting! I’m not totally sure if Spencer is canonically confirmed germophobic but he’s definitely sensitive to germs, so we’ll roll with that :) 
cw: nausea, vomiting
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 832 words
You’re not at your best, shaky and sweaty, but when you hear the front door open you move quick as a flash. 
“Hello?” Spencer’s call echoes through the apartment. 
“Hi,” you say back, quieter than you intend. Still, he finds you easily, and you’re glad you reacted fast when the handle on the bathroom door jiggles. “What are you doing here?” 
Spencer’s taken to staying at your place, but when he’d called you from the jet to tell you his case was over you’d said to go back to his apartment. With what he knows about how sick you’ve been the last couple of days, you thought he’d listen. 
“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he answers simply. He doesn’t try the handle again, but his voice sounds just on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” 
“I’ve been better,” you admit, breathing through another wave of nausea, “but I’ll be fine. You should go home.” 
“I am home. Open the door.” 
“Spence,” you sigh. The tips of your fingers are cool against your temples, and you press them in to quell the uneasy feeling that comes with having your brain so muddled. “You don’t want to come in here.” 
“Why can’t I decide that?” There’s an odd scraping sound on the other side of the door. 
“Because you’re too nice. I know how you feel about germs.” The mutinous acid vat of your stomach revolts again, and you cough a couple of times, swallowing forcefully. 
“I’m just as likely to get sick from pressing an elevator button,” Spencer insists gently. “Seriously, let me in.” 
“Go home,” you plead. 
“I’m coming in.” 
You sigh, bending to lean your head against the cool porcelain of your tub. “What, are you going to kick the door in?” He’s told you about his coworker Morgan doing that, but you don’t think of your scrawny (though you love him for it) boyfriend as capable of such measures. 
“Not quite.” Another scraping sound, and you sit up as your bathroom door tips outward. Spencer catches it before it can fall, easing it down onto the floor before stepping over it. He’s taken the whole thing off its hinges. 
“Show off,” you say tiredly, too spent to do anything about it as he walks over to you. 
“Yeah, well,” Spencer lifts some flyaway baby hairs off your neck, cool knuckles pressing to the hot skin, “I didn’t want to damage your door. You didn’t tell me your fever was this bad.” 
“I told you I was sick.” 
“I feel like ‘sick’ is more or less ambiguous,” he says, not unkindly. His touch moves to your face, long, slender fingers laying down across your forehead. “How high is it?” 
“Dunno.” You swallow thickly. “Haven’t checked. Are you okay?” 
“I touched a dead body yesterday; so long as I shower after this I’ll be fine. How have you not checked?” 
“I can’t—find—” You cough as bile rises in your throat, bending over the toilet “—the—” 
“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer rubs your back. Your coughing turns into retching. “I got it. I’ll look for the thermometer soon, okay?” 
You nod, tears pressing at your eyes as you dry heave. The muscles in your throat and abdomen spasm painfully. 
Spencer makes a sorry sound, his hand coasting up and down the ridges of your spine. “You haven’t been eating anything, have you?” It’s not really a question. “We need to get something in your system. You know that ‘starve a fever’ saying is an old wives’ tale, right?”
He sits with you until the fit abates, then stands and leaves the room. You hear cabinet doors opening and shutting, and before long he’s got a wet rag cooling the back of your neck, you’re sipping water out of a straw, and he’s sticking your previously missing thermometer in your ear. 
“I’ll probably have to go soon if I want to get to the store before it closes,” he’s saying quietly, free hand settled comfortably north of your knee. You’re trying really hard not to breathe in his face. “It’d be good to have some cheerios or something for you to eat, and something with electrolytes.” 
The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it close to read the screen, a frown pursing his pretty lips. 
“Are you sure you want to stay?” you ask, though at this point you really want him to as well. “I don’t want to freak you out.” 
Spencer sets the thermometer aside. “You’re not freaking me out,” he says, hands gentle as he takes the rag from your neck and folds it onto a new side before putting it back. You almost sigh. “The worst thing that can happen is I get sick, and” —he meets your eyes, mouth tipping upward as he shrugs— “if that happens, it can’t be helped. But if I went back to my apartment, and I was fine there but you were still sick here by yourself, well, what’s the point in that?” 
604 notes · View notes
pierregazly · 15 hours
Text
thinkin' bout you ꨄ lando norris
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lando norris x reader
warnings: smut (18+ only), soft!dom lando, a little bit of degradation, lando is a tease [968 words]
request: 🌶 44. “I saw you naked once. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.” Best friend Lando
note: loved this!! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!
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The groans filled the silence in the room, his body pressed tight against yours, his lips peppering kisses up and down your neck. Your own sighs floating in conjunction with the noises emitting from his body, sweat dripping down your neck as you tilted your head back, desperate for the feeling of his lips pressed against your skin.
He knew the exact spots to kiss; the exact spots to scrap his teeth against, to drag his tongue across. One night together, and it felt like he knew your body like the back of his hand. The sighs and whimpers leaving your mouth just simply egged him on, encouraging him. In a sense, teaching him without words.
His grip on your hips never wavered, tightening with every press of his lower body against yours. The tent in his pants so evident, so apparent how you were making him feel, the way his inner conscious wanted you.
“God, the fucking things y’do to me,” he whispered, his teeth tugging at the lobe of your ear as he pulled away to look in your eyes.
His pupils were blown out, his lips red and angry, the small bite marks from your own teeth obvious and inflamed on his neck. Sweat gathered at the top of his forehead, his face flushed.
Lando Norris looked properly aroused. Like one touch of your hand, or your mouth, to the spot he was craving you so desperately; and he would blow. 
It made you want to push yourself closer to him, drop down to your knees and tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, beg him to give you what you’ve been yearning for all night long. But you couldn’t break, not that easily. 
You had told him more than once you weren’t here to sleep with him, weren’t here to give him what you knew he wanted. But he knew you like he knew himself, knew exactly what made you tick, knew exactly what would get you going, and keep you running.
His hand resumed its place on your waist, pulling you closer to his body, his lips hovering over yours. You could feel the puffs of breath leaving his mouth, the heat emitting from his body prompting a sweat to break out on your own.
“Y’know, I saw you naked once… and I can’t stop thinking about it,” the grip on your waist tightened, as his lips pressed up your cheek towards your ear.
“Every time I touch my cock, I think about how your pussy wrapped around it. Fuck, I think about those pretty lips of yours wrapped around it, the way you were practically begging for me to cum down your throat. Such a little slut then, weren’t you?”
You felt yourself practically melting at his words, your core pulsing as the pit in your stomach grew. The desire for him growing more and more with every word that dropped from his mouth. It was hard to deny that it wasn’t the same for you, he was all you could think about, all your body desired late at night when moans filtered into the air.
“Why haven’t y’got me naked yet then, Lan? Calling me all this dirty names, but can’t even get me ready, hm?” Taunting him, you waited for the inevitable reaction.
What you weren’t expecting was for him to spin you around, pressing the front of your body up against the wall, your back pressed harshly against his front. You could feel everything about him so much better at this angle, the hardened length still covered by his sweats pressed against your behind, prompting you to grind back into him.
“God, you’re just begging for me to bend you over, aren’t you? Begging for me to tug down these shorts and see how soaked you are, cause I know you’re just dripping for me. So dirty, darling.”
Shuddering at his words, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand when no witty response fell from your lips. 
“Y’gonna get naked for me now, pretty girl? Or do I have to do all the work around here?” He tugged on the bottom of your shirt, gesturing for you to lift your arms so he could remove the piece of clothing from your body.
With your back still pressed against his front, you felt your nipples harden from the cold air. Lando’s hands ghosting up your body until he had both in his palms, his fingers gently pinching and tugging at the pebbled buds. 
“Been thinking about these every night, my tongue swirling around them in my dreams has woken me up more nights than I care to admit,” he murmured in your ear, an extra pinch to one causing a gasp to fall from your lips.
“Bet if I stuck my hand inside these shorts of yours, m’fingers would come back soaked - wouldn’t they? Answer me,” he enunciated his demand with an extra pinch of his fingers, your back arching into him.
You reluctantly nodded your head, the need coursing through your body overpowering the stubbornness to keep him at bay.
“Use your words, baby,” his hand began to stroke down your stomach, thumbing at the waistband of your shorts before dipping inside.
“Please, Lan. I need you, so bad. I’m so wet for you.”
The words spurred him on, his hand pushing all the way inside your shorts, running a single digit through your wet heat. It didn’t stay there long, his hand leaving your shorts only seconds later, a whine falling from your lips as they did.
You turned to watch him bring the finger up to his lips, sucking off the wetness that coated them.
“Think it’s time for you to get on the bed, baby. I need to see you naked, now.”
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this is like BARELY smut but it's still naughty!!! so it still counts!! hope y'all love it
437 notes · View notes
kindestofkings · 23 hours
Text
espresso
lando norris x reader
dets: an international pop star and a f1 driver could never be secretly dating right? right?
authors note: this is kinda chaotic but its been still in my drafts since that damn espresso song came out, how is it so good?
faceclaim: sabrina carpenter
yourusername
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liked by ynfan1 and others
yourusername me laughing at all y'all trying to figure out who my hot songs are about LOOLLLLLL you'll know when I want you to know MWAH xx
melbourne tonight :)))
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ynfan1 you are so unhinged I LOVE
charli_xcx just tell them its me !
yourusername you're right sorry wifey xx
ynfan2 wait are they still around??
ynfanupdates wait whats happening in melbourne tonight ???
ynfan3 she's so secretive, I didn't even know she was dating anyone
landonorris
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liked by martingarrix and others
landonorris tralia mate
view all other comments
danielricciardo looking fresh mate
landonorris thanks babe xx f1fan1 landos longest relationship right here f1fan2 bahahah for real man is chronically single
oscarpiastri 👍👍
f1fan1 best of luck this weekend !
yourusername just posted to their close friends!
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[caption: baby just had a great weekend at the office <3]
replies:
maxfewtrell disgustingly sweet
↳ jealousy is a disease, better get checked out xx
alexalbon ugh you two make me sick
↳ oh yeah and yourself and lily aren't worse 😐
yourusername
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liked by martingarrix and others
yourusername missing tour hours, should we do it again??
view all other comments
ynfan1 PLEASE COME BACK
oliviarodrigo you never rest queen
yourusername lol duty calls ynfan1 huh? hasn't she been off for ages ? ynfan3 singers can have other responsibilities you do know that right
ynfan2 I just want to know who you're dating..
ynfanupdates
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liked by ynfan1 and others
ynfanupdates yourusername out in monaco tonight !
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ynfan1 huh wonder what has her in monaco? she's there alot recently
ynfan2 looooveee the orange
landofan1
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liked by landoupdates and others
landofan1 firstly tell how is a man so hot?? also look at how much he's vibing to yourusername's feather remix??
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landofan1 I could take him (not in a fight)
ynfan1 he is just like me fr
f1fan1 no WAY whats he doing playing yn? 👀
ynfan1 I mean she is one of the biggest pop singers in the world rn f1fan1 orrrrrrrr ynfan2 haha you wish
yourusername oooh whos he ?
landofan1 bahaahahha girl, you are everything I want my popstars to be
yourusername
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liked by chapellroan and others
yourusername pookie is away (again) so heres some pics of me looking hot for pookie, and pookie only <3
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ynfan1 what boyfriend would ever leave you??
yourusername I know right?? poor me !
chapellroan need a sub ?
yourusername I don't know what you're abbreviating but yes. yes please.
reneerapp god DAMN
(liked by yourusername)
f1fan1 hmmmmmmhmmm away? and theres a grand prix this weekend
lando.jpg
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liked by ynfan1 and others
lando.jpg returning the favour x Race weekend was gud
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landofan1 people died.
oscarpiastri such a poser
lando.jpg my lady loves it 🤷 landofan1 IS HE IN A RELATIONSHIP landofan2 since when wtf
f1fan1 I don't even care how delusional I am, he'd be so hot for yourusername
ynfan1 Ikr but they don't even follow each other :((
yourusername just posted to their story!
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[caption: pookie has returned <3]
replies:
landonorris I don't know how I feel about pookie...
↳ but POOKIE I love it (and you)
↳ landonorris ugh okay fine (love you too)
charli_xcx this soft launch is mean, and I know who it is
↳ hehehhe lol its SO fun tho
f1fan1 is that papaya ?
yourusername just followed landonorris!
landonorris just followed yourusername!
yourusername
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liked by landonorris
yourusername need a pick me up ?
Espresso 4/11 @ 8pm ET,
Music Video 4/12 @ 10:00am ET
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ynfan1 woooo queen is back
ynfan2 LOVE the vibe of this
landofan1 is that the JOLLY ???
landofan2 do we think lando is in the video?? cause thats defo him!
landonorris uber rating ?
yourusername 4 stars out of 5 ! missing star is because you kept making me laugh during filming landonorris always knew being so funny was a double edged sword. georgerussell sorry just confirming, do you think YOU are the funny one? ynfan1 what a random friendship, but so cute
f1fan1 finally followed each other, my delusions don't feel so crazy
landofan1 I would loveee if they became friends
landonorris just added to their close friends!
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[caption: we just hard launched via music video and people are thinking FRIEnDshIP ?]
replies:
yourusername babyyyy they're so stupid
↳ told you it's crazy you're dating me..
↳ yourusername UGH no enough of that
danielricardio the landonorizz lore is to deep I'm afraid..
lilyme cons of dating a hottie
yourusername
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liked by landonorris and others
yourusername guys this is my POOKIE! I just hardlaunched my muse, y'all should be blessed !
(last pic is not mine but like look at how he looks at me teehee...)
tagged: landonorris
view all other comments
landonorris love of my life fuck
ynfan1 damn y'all are in love love aren't you
fan1 this is crazy to me lando and THE pop it girl??
yourusername me and THE lando norris who is a professional hottie and my pookie xx landofan1 ugh im obsessed with you two
ynfan1 you're telling me you've been dating another celebrity for at least 3 years and we've seen ZERO pap pics?
f1fan1 for real tho we would've seen her at a grand prix, theres thousands of cameras landofan1 yeah seems suss yourusername ugh guys !!! why are you making me spell everything out for you landonorris time to cook darling
mclaren finally the parents are insta official
yourusername get hyped to see me at a gp wigless xxx
ynfan1 you wear wigs??
yourusername have you worn wigs?? landonorris will you wear wigs??? ynfan1 omfg I get it now
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landonorris
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liked by yourusername and others
landonorris meet my three year pr relationship x
tagged: yourusername
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yourusername yes sorry guys the warming climate is all our fault !! just so fucking hot we cant help it eek
oscarpiastri you two are so unbearable already please go back to being a secret landonorris after 3 years of norizz jokes, I thinkkkk no !
landofan1 THREE yEaRs ???
mclaren wearing papaya off season? oh shes a keeper
ynfan1 heheh admin gets it
danielricciardo rip norizz it was fun while it lasted..
landonorris fun for WHO??
[finished]
hehe im working lateeee, cause I procrastinated doing assignments all day xx
407 notes · View notes
paperbackribs · 2 days
Text
tags: steddie, pre-canon, season S2-ish, tommy hagan will always have a crush on Steve Harrington
🩵💥🩵
“Someday, you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it,” Steve hears the echo of his words in the Hawkins High boys’ bathroom. Spinning off the tiles, pinging against its corners and stabbing at Tommy who stands gasping at his best friend.
But Steve doesn’t care. This has been a long time coming.
Tommy is a prick and Steve thought there wasn’t anything wrong with going with the flow, ignoring the snide comments, looking away from the rumours that Carol would spread, as long as his friends remained by his side.
But Billy Hargrove had infected Hawkins High. Steve stopped swallowing the cool aid. And Tommy is fuming; red in the face and ready to take it out on any unfortunate soul that crosses his path.
Enter Steve.
Or, really, enter Eddie Munson.
Steve wasn’t sure if Tommy followed Eddie into the empty toilets or coincidentally came across him or whatever could be going on in the mixed up mind of his former best friend. But watching Tommy square off his stocky, muscular body against the other boy, boxed into the corner and wide, brown eyes only visible over Tommy’s shoulder, Steve swears that he’ll no longer look away from Tommy’s indiscretions.
So, he says it again, nodding to the leather clad boy in the corner, “Eddie’s going to take a swing at you and not only will I not defend you, I might even fucking taking a swing too.”
Tommy gapes, “What the fuck, Steve? I know we’ve been having troubles, but you’d take the freak’s side over mine?”
Eddie’s face twists in the background. Steve can see the anger warping his eyes and he doesn’t blame him, almost wishes that Eddie would take a swing and then Steve could just stand back and let it happen.
He sighs: he’s allowed a lot of things to just happen so far and it’s not to his credit.
Weirdly, Steve's resigned gaze meets Eddie’s incredulous look and, just for a moment, Steve feels like he’s met someone who gets it. Someone who sees the ridiculous, short-sighted nature of the petty bullying in the hallways of their high school and knows how stupid and utterly pathetic it is.
Steve swears that the corner of Eddie’s lips kick up at the irony of their shared understanding but is distracted as Tommy strides forward, knocking against his shoulder hard enough to send Steve spinning against the wood of a stall. He steadies himself as Tommy slams the bathroom door shut behind him with a clamorous bang and shakes his head: how could he have had such loyalty for a guy who won’t even stop to talk out their stupid shit together?
Steve thought he’d at least earned Tommy’s patience, a moment of Tommy’s time so they could talk this out and find a way forward again. He stares after his former friend, a hollow, gaping hole in his stomach as he grieves the friendship he thought they’d shared.
Eddie approaches with a gentle hand, laying it on Steve’s shoulder, “Are you all right, man?”
Steve swallows around the thickness in his chest and belatedly realises that his cheeks are wet. He clears his throat and, through a tight smile, says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”
The deep richness of those brown eyes regard him for a long moment and Steve feels stripped bare. He thought he was the guy rescuing Eddie, but he suddenly feels like the one vulnerable and exposed to the other boy.
Eddie smiles softly, “Yeah, got saved, right? How could I be anything but peachy keen?”
Steve snorts despite himself, amused by Eddie’s tongue-in-cheek tone, “Like a summertime in Georgia.” He can’t help but flash to Tommy’s retreating back and hates that his tone is already bitter, “Except I’m the stupid fucking tree alone in the grove.”
His head twitching slightly to the side, as if he were weighing Steve’s words, Eddie lightly responds, “Well, maybe it’s time to try another field. Wanna hang out sometime?”
Steve blinks, bewildered at the offer. The suggestion given so freely and without conditions seems anathema to his experience of friendship, and especially friendship in the complex halls of high school. He eyes the other boy suspiciously, but Eddie’s eyes remain clear, his body loose and almost curled towards Steve as if he were the north to his compass.
What could it hurt? Steve thinks.
Looking at what he can only describe as kindness in Eddie’s eyes, Steve thinks that a lot of things could hurt. Could burn or scald or stab, but the sweet, clear acceptance in Eddie Munson’s eyes has him thinking of a world where Steve can offer his loyalty and receive it in kind. A place where he can be good and feel like he’s doing good and perhaps a lovely brown-eyed boy would wait and tell him he’d done the right thing.
Eddie sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship that only bolsters the words he’d already extended to Steve. And nothing moves in the cold room of Hawkins boys’ bathroom, no wind or breeze, but as Steve reaches out to clasp Eddie Munson’s outstretched hand, he feels a seismic shift that he can’t explain.
Steve’s fingers fold around the warmth of Eddie’s palm and Eddie’s full lips stretch into a smile, welcoming and true. A gesture that Steve can’t be sure of, can’t let himself fully trust; yet, nonetheless, Steve finds himself hopelessly following after Eddie’s extension of friendship.
And it'll eventually allow Steve to follow him to the confusing halls of the Hellfire Club.
To the strangely welcome space of Eddie's uncle’s trailer.
And Steve follows.
Because he is helpless but to follow this wide, brown-eyed boy who smirks at him with a knowing smile.
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forsworned · 2 days
Text
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USE YOUR HEART ft. NEEDY!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
Warning(s): Sexual Content, Grinding, AFAB!Reader, Mentions of Narcotics
Synopsis: Simon is high off of morphine and it reveals his true feelings for reader...
Author's note: Idk because @dmitriene told me to do it and i <3 her
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"I don't wanna be alone."
His voice breaks as he reaches out to you. His usual stoic demeanor had completely diminished in your presence. For the first time, Simon was needy. You gaze down at his hand gently gripping your hand, "I need you." He says. Pleas even. Dark, stormy, and now conflicted eyes are peering up at you and he tugs you toward him. You didn't know how to react. Seeing Simon so injured and broken makes you feel some type of way. Somewhat wrong, but somehow...powerful?
"You need me?" You finally spoke up. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.
"Yes.” He croaks out.
The morphine that has been coursing in his system finally kicks in and you were experiencing the lowering inhibitions of Simon Riley, not Ghost.
The Simon Riley laying out on the infirmary bed before you at this moment was vulnerable, desperate, and reliant on your presence and aid--insistent even.
But naturally, you're hesitant. A situation like this is compromising and delicate. Given the nature of the circumstances and his stature, he is obviously still at an advantage, but it feels wrong to pounce at the opportunity. You don't want to feel like a predator skulking about as he studies you with reliant, onyx hues.
You look at the time on your watch.
12:38 AM
It was quite late, but the tugging of his hand over yours disrupts your train of thought.
"C'mere. I want you by my side." He susurrates and you're in a bit of a trance at the resonance of his soothing, sleepy tone. It's not its usual gruff and gravelly, but instead a lulling rasp that pulls you in.
"It's late, Lieutenant." You gently chide as you attempt to pry his fingers off your wrist, but he takes his free hand over your own and pulls you flush against him. Goddamn, he was strong. Even in his dazed and confused state, he is built like a fuckin' boulder.
But he's not listening to you as he fiddles with your fingers, tracing over the skin and where it creases and finely wrinkles. Over the nail bed, and the unfiled ridges, down to the chip that you earned from earlier when you reached for your gun in your holster too quickly. He's thumbing over the half-moon on your thumb and then the scar on the meat of your palm before he brings it to his masked lips as if to kiss it over the fabric.
A small, shuddering breath escapes you, and your eyes are glazing over before you swallow thickly. He cups your hand over his jaw and inhales sharply as he closes his eyes.
"Don't care." He replies, curling his bicep around your waist and secures you so have nowhere to go.
Your heart thuds at the contact and your cheeks are teeming with warmth. And suddenly it feels like the heat in there is turning to the max because you're sweating like a dog under his keen gaze and snug hold on you.
"Want you to stay." And it's as if he's speaking purely from the heart when he looks at you like that. You want nothing more but to crumble into his arms and cave into whatever feelings are lurking within you, but there's an urge to maintain your professionalism. And Simon senses that. He wants you to let go.
Why? He didn't know. Be it the drugs, the near-death experience, or the fact that you look utterly gorgeous under the strong moonlight or all of the above; he wants you with all his being.
His bandage-wrapped fingers loop around the bottom of his mask and he's lifting it up to expose just his lips as it scrunches up under his nose. Even if you have seen the sight a multitude of times over the years of knowing your Lieutenant, it is always as awestriking as it was the first time you saw it. His pretty rosy lips kiss at your wrist and you're stunned.
"Stay." He croaks out.
"And then what?"
You can't help yourself from asking such a silly question. You just need to feel needed by him because there is just something about the clinginess in his body language that pulls you in for more. If Simon is being honest right now, he's on cloud motherfucking nine. He's so high that everything feels like tunnel vision right now and you're the only damn thing he can focus on, not that he would want to focus on anything else.
So when he's telling you to stay, he damn well means it. But he also wants more. He's telling himself not to be too hasty, at least the logical part of him, though he is following his heart's desires. And his heart is conveying to him that he yearns for your closeness, for all your regard, and selfishly enough, your own heart.
At this point, all reasoning is being tossed out the window when he fixates on your trembling, shimmering eyes and your quivering glossed lips that are slightly chapped. But he's thinking to himself, one kiss. One kiss would fix that for you.
Simon is no longer struggling to sit up when he's tensing you closer to him feeling the sweat wetting the small of your back. His brows slightly raise and you feel your cheeks flush at his little observation, but he's not halting his motion to close the short distance between you two. He's bringing his hand over the nape of your neck, carding his scarred fingers through the tendrils of your hair and a soft sigh leaves your lips.
And the way you visibly relax draws out a small smile onto his lips as your foreheads collide. You don't even dare to open your eyes. You swallow thickly as you feel your breath become shallow and sharp. It fans against his lips and he's feels even more enticed to just kiss you.
"Dammit, [name]..." He finally breathes out. And you're eyes are on him and he can feel a thrill creep up his chine when he sees the flash of longing overcome your half lidded gaze.
And now you're yearning to bridge the distance, creeping closer to him, nudging your nose against his, and faintly brushing your lips over the stubble on his philtrum. You notice how his chest huffs out, stuttering as it leaves his lungs.
Long blonde lashes tickle at your own as your lips graze and you're heart is thumping out of your chest. You feel yourself holding back from your own hankerings but the moment that Simon brings his thumb to skim over your bottom lip, you feel the tension snap like a rubberband and you're crashing your lips against his. To hell with ethical conduct and decorum, you want nothing more than to satiate your thirst for him.
And with every kiss, you feel like your hunger is being appeased. The ferocity that grows in the depths of your groin is clawing out as you clamber on top of him and you're tuning out the noisy heartbeat monitor that's becoming rapid. And it cuts out, thanks to the swift movement of Simon pulling out the cord so he can nestle his hands under your shirt and slip his tongue between your open-mouth kisses.
He's losing himself in you and he doesn't care because the feeling of your nails digging into his abdomen is more than pleasant. As if the morphine wasn't dizzying enough, he was starting to feel like he was reaching some sort of seventh heaven. Especially when he hears the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he thumbs atop your hardened bud and gently tweaks it between his fingers.
The tent that's starting to feel like it's pitching between his legs is getting ground upon and he shudders at how fucking good it feels.
"Fuck." He murmurs as he lifts your shirt up to expose your breast to him and he's latching his lips to your sensitive nipple. It's a soft probing of his tongue against the erogenous zone and you're instantly arching your back and he grasps at your hips to abrade your clothed sex against him. And it feels so fucking good.
So, naturally, you're not stopping. And Simon can't help but become absorbed in your pleasure. Your milky moans are like music to his ears as he switches over to your other nipple. The friction builds in your lower belly as you get into a good rhythm and it becomes increasingly euphoric with every roll of your hips. And fuck, it's not even much but the way you are so touch-starved makes it all the better.
"Simon, I—hah—gonna—" You moan out, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his tongue swirls around your bud. He's already addicted to the way you're saying his name between your whimpers.
"Cum." He commands, as he clutches your hips to help achieve your oncoming orgasm. His sexy, raspy voice is enough to send you over the edge and a terrific gasp escapes you as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath is gone and you feel like your voice melts into a deep, hot sweetness that soothes your electrifying nerves.
There is a brief pause of silence as you catch your breath and the embarrassment skulks in and you don't want to withdraw from him. You only focus on his heartbeat which slows and his breath that levels. Your throat tightens as you shift awkwardly and his hand on your hip feels a little limp. You take another moment to memorize how he smelled to help you calm your nerves.
The aroma of his natural musk enmeshed with the faint scent of cypress digs into your brain as you try your hardest to engrave his essence before it slips away. With one more breath of courage, you withdraw from him to face the music but it seems he's fast asleep. His thumb is still hooked into the belt loop of your jeans, and you can't help but giggle at him.
A small sigh leaves your lips as you calm down from your climax and your shaky fingers, lower his mask back down so it's stretching over his neck. Maybe if you slip away right now he'll think that it was just a nice little wet dream...
But you feel his hand cling to you as you try make your sweet escape.
"Thought I told ya to stay." He mumbles under his breath while he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you and making certain you're not leaving his side anytime soon.
There's a feeling of assurance that fluxes over your edginess and you can finally breathe again. Simon's body feels weightless as he lays in this infirmary bed with your toasty form atop his. It feels heavenly to have your figure pressed against him and he hums in contentment. He's replaying the sound of your moans and the way your body writhed under his touch. And you're starting to feel the rigidity of his dirty thoughts against the zipper of your jeans.
"You sure?" You murmur back, feeling the warmth sidle back into your cheeks.
His grin grows under his mask and you can feel it against your forehead. Sleep overtakes him, but he gives you one last squeeze.
"'m sure."
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candy69gurl · 3 days
Text
MISTAKEN TRUST
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PAIRING Mahito x f!reader
SYNOPNSIS The reader is a kind person who likes feeding strays. Mahito is taken aback by her charity, which makes her the target of his scheme. Mahito uses her generosity to his advantage, transforming into a dog to capture the reader's attention and earn their trust. (Mahito is a virgin and he experiments with your body)
WARNING non/con, monster fucking, use of tentacles, slight somnophilic, fingering, use of elongated tongue (in mouth and pussy), bondage, dual penetration, use of all the holes), nipple sucking playing pinching, squirting, missonary, doggy, multiple orgasms, enlargement of dick, breast slapping, choking, face fucking, degradation, use of nicknames (toy), raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, ass), clit nibbling & rubbing, over stimulation, mouth fucking after passing out, lactation & breeding kink
NOTE I understand that Mahito isn't universally liked, but believe me, he possesses the ability to provide infinite pleasures beyond what a typical human can offer. This story is tailored for readers who harbor a deep fascination with tentacles.
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You make your way down the deserted alleyway, just below your apartment, the sound of your footsteps reverberating. Your gaze drawn towards the neon green eyes gleaming from the shadows at the alley's bend.
Today, you decided to bring a bit more food than usual, hoping to feed every last stray dog in the area. As you scan the alleyway, searching for the furry beings hiding in the shadows, you see them drawing near, detecting your scent and seemingly exhibiting trust in your presence. But, you notice something new - a puppy curled up in a corner, its eyes fixed on you intently. Something about those heterochromia eyes, the way they seem to peer straight into your soul, unsettles you, but you dismiss it as mere coincidence.
"Hey there, little one," you say softly, offering a piece of meat to the puppy. To your surprise, the puppy approaches you cautiously, accepting the food with tentative paws. As you continue to distribute food around the alley, that puppy sticks closely by your side, as if drawn to you. It's odd, but you can't help feeling a strange connection forming between you and the creature.
You notice that the other stray dogs keeping their distance from the peculiar puppy, as if they can sense something off about it. Under the moon's glow, the puppy's dull bluish fur and mismatched eyes catch your attention. As you attempt to feed the other dogs, they scamper away with their meat, an uncommon reaction for you. Your focus shifts to the newcomer puppy.
"Hmm, why do you think the others are acting this way?" you ask the puppy, petting its head gently. "You seem new here." The puppy licks your hand affectionately, seemingly unfazed by the behavior of its fellow canines.
In an instant, the scene shifts from tranquil to chaotic. A large black dog lunges at the newcomer, its jaws clamping down on the smaller puppy's paw with a sickening snap. You jump away in reflex, the sudden aggression startles you, and you instinctively step between the dogs, trying to shield the newcomer from harm. "Stop it!" you yell, your voice trembling with fear and anger.
Your eyes scan the street, seeking out for some stick or pebble to intervene and halt the fight. But suddenly, you hear a shrill, painful wail. You look back at them, the larger dog lets out a whimper before darting away, tail tucked between its legs. Its once-menacing demeanor replaced by fear and bewilderment.
You stare at the new puppy, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what just happened. It raises its head, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of its mouth before turning back to you, tongue hanging out in satisfaction.
With a mix of concern and admiration, you bend down and carefully inspect the puppy's injured paw. Its tiny body trembles under your gentle touch, but it doesn't whimper or try to escape. Your heart aches for the small creature that defended itself so fiercely against the much larger dog.
"Brave little one, let me take you home" you whisper, cradling the puppy in your arms. Despite its injury, the puppy snuggles closer to you, its tail thumping against your chest in gratitude. "We'll take care of that wound once we get home. You shouldn't have to fight alone, buddy," you say, your voice thick with emotion. With the newfound bond between you and the puppy growing stronger, you make your way back to your apartment, determined to give it care and protection it deserves.
Little did you know that this act of kindness would bind you even more tightly to the enigmatic spirit, whose true intentions remain shrouded in mystery.
Upon returning home, you immediately tend to the puppy's wounded paw. Cleaning the injury, you apply a sterile dressing and wrap it securely with gauze. The puppy remains still throughout the process, its trust in you evident as it allows you to tend to its wounds without struggle. Then you wash him with your own shampoo. Once you finish, you offer the puppy some water, which it drinks eagerly.
"There we go, buddy," you murmur, stroking the puppy's head tenderly. "Just stay here with me for a bit longer. If I take you back there, what if you're attacked again?"
As you sit down on the couch, the puppy nestles into your lap, content and peaceful. You can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility towards this mysterious creature.
The puppy's unusual features start to catch your attention again. The dull bluish fur, the heterochromia eyes, the way it defended itself so ferociously – it's unlike any dog you've ever encountered. You begin to wonder about its origins, feeling a growing unease in your gut. You decide to do some research, pulling out your phone to search for breeds with similar features.
As you scroll through various results, none seem to match the unique characteristics of the puppy in your lap. A nagging suspicion starts to form in the back of your mind. "You know, I can't seem to find a breed that looks quite like you," you say, looking into the puppy's eyes.
As if understanding your thoughts, the puppy tilts its head, gazing back at you with those eerily intelligent eyes. For a brief moment, you swear its expression revealed a hint of mischief and amusement. But before you can examine further, the puppy closes its eyes and drifts off to sleep, its breathing steady and slow.
Carefully, you lay the puppy down on the bed, tucking a blanket around it to keep it warm. Exhausted from the events of the night, you join the puppy on the bed, wrapping your arm protectively around it as you close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, your mind still grappling with the peculiarities of the evening. Eventually, the warmth of the puppy and the comfort of your safe space lull you into a deep slumber.
As you drift off to sleep, the puppy's eyes flicker open. With a barely perceptible shift in its form, its body begins to change. Stitches appear on its fur, spreading across the once furry surface. The heterochromia eyes intensify, taking on a life of their own. The puppy transforms into a humanoid-curse, Mahito.
He had been observing you from afar, admiring your every move, particularly your kindness. He noticed your fondness for organims and had to take advantage of it. He wanted to experiment with your mind and body. He had heard from Kenjaku that humans are incredibly sensitive during sex, and he wants to test it out. You were the ideal toy for it, so frail, sweet, and adorable. You were lonely so you took to feeding strays, he had been witnessing you feeding the dogs every night, and yes, that's the perfect time for him to get at you, so he transformed himself as an adorable little puppy to catch your attention.
Despite the transformation happening right beside you, you remain sound asleep, utterly oblivious to the changes occurring. Unnoticed by you, Mahito continues the playful facade, gently grasping your breast through your thin nightshirt. He revels in the texture, tracing the outline of your hardening nipple with his thumb. The sensation sends a thrill through him, fueling his curiosity about you.
His hand curves like a sharp claw, ripping your top extra carefully not to hurt you, exposing your bare breast to the cool air. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down your spine, unbeknownst to you. He latches onto your nipple, the unexpected sensation causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. You moan softly, your brows creasing in confusion and pleasure.
So these are female breasts.. I heard they start milking if pregnant. So what if I make her pregnant with my baby curses? his eyes gazing your hardened nipples glistening with his saliva.
Mahito sucks harder, relishing the satisfying response he receives. He finds himself entranced by the experience, both sensual and twisted. He can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation – tormenting a sleeping victim while they remain blissfully ignorant. He can't stop thinking about the ways he is going to play with your body, as he continues his assault. The thought excites him even more, and he sucks harder, his hands roaming freely over your body.
"Humans are so foolish", he whispers mockingly, his voice almost inaudible. His actions become bolder, exploring areas he knows you wouldn't allow if conscious. You squirm beneath him, your body responding to the unwanted touches. Despite your protests in your dreams, Mahito pays no heed, intent on testing the limits of your subconscious mind.
A smile plays on his lips as he observes your reaction, enjoying the control he's gained over you. Ignoring your half-hearted attempts to resist in your sleep, Mahito pulls down your panties, revealing yourself to him fully. His grin widens, fascination etched on his face as he gazes upon your naked form.
His fingers gazing your folds, your clit trying to find the way to your vagina. Found it, with lightning-fast reflexes, he inserts his fingers into you, plunging deep and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. Your dreams fill with panic and discomfort as you struggle to escape his grasp but to no avail.
Your subconscious mind begs for release, but Mahito merely laughs, his fingers moving in a rhythm meant to tease and torment. He leans in close, whispering into your ear, "Welcome to my game, toy." Your dream self twists and turns, unable to escape his grip. Each thrust of his fingers brings a gasp, your body betraying you even as you plead in your sleep.
So helpless, Mahito smirks, his fingers shifting pace and pressure, eliciting a mixture of pain and pleasure from within you. He watches as you squirm beneath him, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Just as you're about to reach your breaking point, Mahito abruptly stops his assault. Instead, he leans down and gently nibbles on your clitoris; his tongue elongating, delving into your spasming hole, triggering an electric shock of sensation that shatters your unconscious resistance. Your eyes fly open, gasping as you come back to reality. Panic courses through you as you realize what's happening, your mind struggling to comprehend the situation. Mahito raises his head, locking gaze with you, "Looks like you are awake-"
When your legs suddenly move and you kick him square in the nose, his nose immediately begins to bleed. "W-who the fuck are you?"
He gives a creepy grin, and your eyes widen as you see him recover in an instant. You attempt to push him away, but he effortlessly avoids your flailing leg, maintaining his position above you. His eyes glint with mischievous delight at your shocked face, his smile never leaving his face. "I'm Mahito," he introduces nonchalantly, "and now that you're awake, our game can truly begin."
You try to scream, but the words catch in your throat. Fear washes over you like a tidal wave. Mahito's grin widens as a mass of pale, tentacles sprouts from his body from every direction. Your struggles become frantic, but his grasp proves too strong. Tentacles snaking from his body to wrap around your legs, pinning you firmly to the bed.
One of the tentacles reaches out to shove itself into your mouth, silencing your screams and forcing you into submission. "No need to scream," Mahito teases, his voice dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning. We have so much to explore."
Despite your efforts to free yourself, the tentacles tighten around your limbs, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. Mahito's fingers returning your core, resuming their invasion, delving deeper within you with each twist.
You swallow hard, tears pooling in your eyes as you look into his eyes filled with sadism. "You'll learn to enjoy it, toy," As if in response to his words, more tentacles emerge, wrapping themselves around your breasts and nipples. They constrict, rubbing your sensitive flesh painfully.
Simultaneously, Mahito's three fingers continue their assault, thrusting into you with brutal force. Pain and pleasure collide in a cacophony of sensations, your body shaking violently under his control.
Your eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out, but Mahito keeps his grip firm, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. "Isn't it exciting?" he asks, his voice tinged with mirth. "Everything you've been missing out on, all the thrills and desires you've ignored. Now, you'll experience them all." His words cut through the chaos in your mind, igniting a spark of curiosity amidst the fear.
With a sudden harsh pinch on your nipples, you release a loud cry as you squirt under his persistent assault. Waves of orgasm wash over you, your body convulsing beneath his touch. Surprise flickers across Mahito's face, and then morphs into admiration. His fingers pause briefly, taking in the sight of you trembling before him. "Incredible, that tightness.. was.. Incredible" he breathes, his voice thick with approval. "Human bodies are incredible," he laughs maniacally.
His tentacle inside your mouth withdraws allowing you to breath. You gasp for air, your chest heaving. You want to run, scream, anything to break free from his hold, but you're paralyzed by fear and shame. Mahito's eyes gleam with triumph as he studies you, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet pop.
"Don't worry," he purrs, leaning in close, "this is just the beginning." He removes all the tentacles except the ones holding you down, letting go of your nipples and breasts.
"W-what are you, how did you get inside?", your voice, struggled. Mahito's grin widens, and he leans down to whisper into your ear, "I am a curse, and I can be anywhere I please." His voice is cold and calculating, promising more torment to come. His body leans over yours, towering you, and you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.
"Get ready, toy," he warns, "we have a lot to discover about each other." His fingers trace the curves of your body, making you shiver with anticipation and dread. As he positions himself between your legs, you struggle weakly against the tentacles restraining you.
"N-no..", you protest. "Yes," Mahito insists, his eyes burning with determination. "Keep resisting but you cannot escape from me." His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down as he enters you roughly.
You cry out in pain and fear, your walls protesting against the invasion. Mahito thrusts harder, relishing the sounds coming from you. His laughter echoes in the room, filling every corner with his cruelty.
Still pinned under Mahito's weight, you lie there, breathing heavily as he continues his assault. His laughter subsides, replaced by a satisfied hum. As the tentacles retract, you're left exposed, your vulnerability laid bare. Your body remains tense, every muscle strained as you wait for what comes next. Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, burying himself deep within you with each stroke.
The sheets below you crinkle loudly as you clutch them tightly, seeking solace from the intense stimulation. Mahito's movements sync with your orgasm's buildup, hitting all the right spots with precision. Your breath hitches, and your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of pleasure intensifies. Your body arches off the bed, unable to bear the intensity longer.
"That's it, toy," Mahito murmurs, his voice low and laced with triumph. "Let go, let yourself enjoy it."
Each thrust propels you closer to the edge, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. As you near climax, Mahito increases his pace, driving you towards the brink. His hands find your hips again, guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. Your heart races, sweat breaks out on your brow as you gasp for air, your body betraying you once more.
"Let me feel you tighten once again." Mahito demands, thrusting faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out, your orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami. Every contraction of your muscles around him reveals your surrender, your body giving in to his control. Mahito's thrusts become fierce, his own climax approaching rapidly, "Fuck... I will breed you."
As you reach your peak, Mahito follows suit, his own release imminent. His thrusts become erratic, his body shuddering with the force of his ecstasy. He drives deeper, his seed filling your womb, his pleasure intertwining with yours. His breaths are heavy and ragged, his teeth gritted in the height of his climax. Finally, Mahito slows his pace, his breaths steadied and his body relaxed. His weight rests on you, still inside you, yet the urgency was gone.
"I never... EVER .. imagined.. sex feels this good", he speaks through his gritted teeth. The air is thick with the scent of sex, the room resonating with the sounds of your pleasure. He leans down, inserting his elongated tongue into your mouth. Your tongue fighting with his but it lengthens further hitting your uvula. He retracts, his saliva dropping on your face, he smiles sheepishly before speaking again, "Round two?"
"Y-you got to be kidding me..", your eyes widen in anticipation. Mahito chuckles, a sound that puts goosebumps on your skin. He eases out of you slowly, his lingering arousal lending a sense of satisfaction to his actions. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet, toy," he says, tracing a lazy circle on your hip.
"You are a... W-what the hell are you?", you spat at him.
He laughs his member hardening once more ,"You haven't seen 1% of it.. Let me show you, what I can do", with that, pulls you by your ankle, rolling you on your stomach.
One by one, his long gone tentacles encircle your body again, trapping you to the bed with your ass raised high. Their grip is firm but not painful, securing you in a position that leaves you completely exposed. Mahito moves behind you, his erection throbbing with renewed vigor. His hands brush over your hips, sending shivers down your spine.
"Brace yourself, toy," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "I promised you new experience, didn't I?" He lines up his erection with your entrance, positioning himself for another round.
You curl your lip in disgust, your body trembling with fear and anger. "W-what do you get out of this?" you manage to ask, your voice hoarse from previous exertion.
Mahito's eyes gleam with interest, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "Ah, I love to torment humans. Now I want to use the other hole you have."
Without warning, Mahito slams his cock already lubricated with your and his releases, into you, penetrating your ass with brutal ferocity. A cry escapes you, mingling with his harsh groan of satisfaction. With each thrust, your body jolts, the foreign invasion stretching you wide. The different angle sends shockwaves of discomfort coursing through you, your muscles protesting the violation.
Mahito's thrusts are rapid and unrestrained, each one driven by a hunger that knows no bounds. His hands roam over your body, exploring your curves with a possessive touch. "Feel the difference, toy," he taunts, his voice rough with desire. "I bet you never imagined this, did you?"
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle against the tentacles restraining you. Each thrust is a painful reminder of your captivity. "Please... stop," you whimper, your voice raw and pleading.
"Aw, look at that pussy, clamping on nothing.. I feel bad for it", as soon as Mahito speaks the words, a tentacle slides into your throbbing pussy, stretching you even further. You gasp at the added sensation, your body trembling under the dual invasion. Mahito chuckles, his thrusts becoming more forceful at your reaction. "Looks like your body wants it, toy," he teases, enjoying your reaction.
Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, driven by a single purpose - to make you lose control. The tentacle inside your pussy mimics his movements, creating friction that builds your pleasure higher. Your body writhes beneath him, the tentacles anchoring you securely to the bed.
"Fuck! Noooo", your whimpers turn into moans as Mahito's tentacle moves in perfect harmony with his cock, sending waves of pleasure and you beg, "Please..." , your voice filled with a mix of agony and delight. "I-I can't take anymore." Mahito's laughter fills the air, his thrusts growing harsher, matching the speed of the tentacle inside you.
"Can't take it?" Mahito snarls, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll take everything I dish out, toy." He plunges deeper, his fingers digging into your hips. The tentacle inside you mirrors his actions, stroking your most sensitive spots.
Your body convulses, caught between pleasure and pain, as Mahito drives you towards the edge. Your cries fill the room, a testament to the chaos within you. Just as you reach your breaking point, Mahito's voice rings out, sharp and commanding, "Cumming again? yet you say you don't like it?"
With a sharp intake of breath, you succumb to the sensations overwhelming you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking uncontrollably.
As your orgasm peaks, Mahito thrusts harder, his own release drawing near. The tension between you becomes palpable, the air charged with your combined pleasure. Finally, he lets out a fierce growl, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He pulses inside you, spilling his seed deep within your ass.
His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he finishes. The tentacle inside you withdraws, leaving behind a trail of lingering sensitivity. Your eyes roll, panting heavily as the shudders subside. His eyes revel in your disheveled state, his victory complete.
"Well, wasn't that entertaining?" Mahito asks, his voice laced with satisfaction. The tentacles releasing their hold on you, letting you fall onto the bed in a heap. He steps back, his erection retreating from your ass with a lewd sound. The sudden emptiness makes you wince, your body still adjusting to the aftermath, your eyelids blinking as you start seeing all white.
"No No sweetheart, you cannot passout, not yet, I have seen humans taking more than this" Mahito lifts you effortlessly, your limbs dangling loosely. Your clothes, now torn and ruined, falling away from your body, ripped apart by his razor-sharp tentacles. Naked and vulnerable, you hang in midair, the reality of your situation settling in.
Despite your battered state, Mahito seems pleased with his work. He examines you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Then again, Mahito guides his still-erect penis between your legs. He positions himself at your entrance, the tip brushing against your swollen flesh. With a cruel grin, he thrusts inside you, burying himself deep in your pussy. The remnants of his seed trickle from your ass, making a messy contrast against the fresh invasion.
Your body winces at the stretch, but you offer no resistance. Your mind is numb, unable to process the brutality you've endured. Mahito's thrusts are slow and deliberate, relishing in your broken state. The sight of his seed leaking from your ass only fuels his lust further.
"I love this hole, so sensitive," Mahito coos, his breath hot against your ear.
Huddled against Mahito's chest, your body quakes with every thrust. Your face rests against him, exhausted and defeated. Tears streak down your cheeks, mixing with sweat and arousal. In this moment, you're nothing more than a toy to be played with, incapable of escape or resistance.
Mahito grins, enjoying your submission. His thrusts become more frenzied, driven by his arousal and dominance. His grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "Why'd you stop making those sweet sounds?" he awes, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Already got used to my cock?"
Drool trickles down your chin, evidence of your surrender. Your eyes roll back, lost in the sensations he's inflicting upon you. Mahito's thrusts become more erratic, his pleasure escalating alongside yours. "Now now, I cannot enjoy when my toy is not responding."
In a sudden burst of power, Mahito enlarges his erection. Your body screams in protest, the unexpected expansion threatening to tear you apart. Your head thumps against his chest involuntarily, your cries muffled by the contact.
"Oh, look at that!" Mahito exclaims, amused by your reaction. "Fits perfectly now!" His thrusts become faster, the new size of his cock stretching you impossibly.
"G-gonna die.. p-please stop", your hands grip his hair, pulling some of his strands, out of pain.
Mahito chuckles, his thrusts continuing relentlessly. "Not tonight, toy," he promises, his words thick with delight. "Just a little more and you'll be begging for more."
Your pleas fall on deaf ears, drowned out by his laughter. Your body betrays you, your orgasm edging closer with every brutal thrust. His hand cups your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.
"See? Pain and pleasure, intertwined," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's beautiful, isn’t it?"
Your breath hitches, your body betraying you once more. "P-please..." you whisper, the edges of your orgasm sharpening.
"What is it, toy?" Mahito asks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ask nicely, and maybe I'll grant your wish."
Trembling, you struggle to find your voice. "Make... make me cum again," you manage, your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. "Please..."
Mahito smirks, the tension in your body a clear indicator of your impending climax. He increases his pace, driving you closer to the edge. "Oh?," he purrs, your torment his entertainment.
Mahito's thrusts become frantic, your body clenching around him as you teeter on the edge of another orgasm. Your pleas grow louder, the raw desperation palpable. "Please," you whine, your nails digging into his chest. "I need it, please!"
He leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "What a change.."
Two tentacles snake around your waist, holding you securely in place. Mahito's thrusts grow even more intense, the pain from his girthy shaft bruising your insides. You cry out, unable to take all the pleasure inflicted on you.
"Such thrilling sounds," Mahito murmurs, his thrusts growing more desperate. Your body arches, desperate for relief.
One of Mahito's tentacles slithers towards your ass, entering with ease. The remnants of his earlier release drip down, mingling with your fluids. Your body convulses, the dual invasion pushing you closer to the brink.
You bite your lip hard, tears streaming down your face. Mahito's laughter fills the room, his enjoyment apparent.
"Ah, so humans enjoy pain this much?" Mahito says, his voice thick with
One of Mahito's tentacles strikes your breast, the slap leaving a faint red mark. His other tentacle wraps around your neck, cutting off your airflow. Simultaneously, another finds your clitoris, rubbing insistently.
Your body convulses, the torment pushing you to the edge. The tentacle around your neck tightens, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you.
You gasp, struggling to breathe. Despite the suffocation, your body reacts to the stimulation. "You like that, don't you?" Mahito taunts, the tendril on your clit picking up its pace. "The perfect balance of discomfort and ecstasy."
With every thrust, you're propelled closer to the edge. Your lungs burn, the need to breathe overshadowed by your mounting orgasm, your body writhing beneath his assault
Finally, you crest the wave. Your body shudders, the simultaneous assault of pain and pleasure catapulting you into oblivion. A scream rips from your throat as you lose yourself in the rush. Mahito watches, his own release imminent.
His tentacles tighten, his thrusts growing more urgent. With a savage roar, Mahito empties himself within you, his semen flooding your core. His hold on you doesn't loosen until he's finished, your body limp in his grasp. He pulls out slowly, his dick turning to it's original size, the remnants of his seed spilling from your body. The tentacle around your neck releases you last, giving way for you to gasp for air.
"Now, wasn't that lovely?" Mahito asks, his breath ragged. He caresses your cheek, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement.
You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Tears stream down your face, the lingering throbbing between your legs a testament to the experience.
"Don't look at me like that, I am not done experimenting your body" Mahito sets you roughly, onto the bed, before you can react.
"Open up.. Time to use this mouth," he commands, his erection aimed at your mouth. Reluctantly, you obey. Mahito slides into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him tasting the essence of sex, as he starts to thrust.
At the same time, his tentacles find their way back into your already sensitive holes, resuming their invasive dance. Your eyes widen in shock, your mind reeling from the intensity. The combination of sensations overwhelms you - Mahito's cock in your mouth, his tentacles in your most intimate places. You struggle to keep up, your mind spinning.
Mahito's thrusts grow more forceful, his grip firm on your hair. "Oh yes, so good," he praises, his movements intensifying. The tendrils in your ass and pussy follow suit, stretching your limits. Your moans mingle with his grunts, filling the room with raw emotion.
"I told you, I'm not done yet," Mahito growls, his voice thick with lust. He punctuates his words with deep thrusts, his eyes locked on yours. You writhe beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, throat buldging with each thrust.
Your mind races, trying to process the sensations coursing through you. The dual penetrations are overwhelming. It isn't long before the onslaught becomes too much. Each movement triggers a fresh wave of pleasure, your body reaching its breaking point. Your orgasm collides with you, washing away everything else, your nails digging into the sheets. Mahito picks up on your reaction, his thrusts turning feral. The tentacles in your ass and pussy synchronize, driving you to the brink. Your eyes roll back, your mind spiraling into oblivion. Just as you reach the peak, you lose consciousness. Mahito's cock remains in your mouth, your world fading to black.
Despite your unconsciousness, Mahito continues his relentless assault. He thrusts deeper, pounding into your mouth with renewed vigor. Your lips clamp down instinctively around him, your body still writhing in response to his actions.
With a final roar, Mahito releases, his seed filling your mouth. Your body jerks involuntarily, swallowing involuntarily as he floods your mouth. The tendrils in your holes retreat, satisfied with their work. Mahito slows down, his breathing heavy. He gazes down at you, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.
"That was... quite the performance," he muses, pulling out of your mouth. "I must say, I rather enjoyed that." He leans closer, his gaze flickering on your unconscious face, ''Gonna stick around you for a while" His smirk widens into a grin, his voice low and taunting.
He steps back, leaving you sprawled on the bed, his semen still dripping from your lips. A chilling laugh echoes in the room then, everything goes silent.
You lay there, breath ragged and heart racing, even in your unconscious state. The taste of Mahito lingers on your tongue, his semen a bitter reminder of what just occurred.
The next morning dawns, casting sunlight through the window. As your eyes flutter open, remnants of fear linger in your subconscious. Glancing beside you, you see the puppy nestled in the same spot it occupied since last night. Your mind churns with the haunting remnants of the nightmares that plagued your sleep. Sensing your wakefulness, the puppy springs into action, leaping onto you with eager excitement. Its innocent gaze meets yours, tenderly licking your cheek and nuzzling its head against yours, eliciting a smile from you. In that moment, the memory of the night's unsettling experience (was it bad?) fades into the background, replaced by the warmth and affection of your furry companion.
Suddenly, you experience a sensation—the unmistakable feeling of pain spreading throughout your entire body. You pull the blankets away from your body.. There you are.. Lying naked, bruises and marks all over your body.
You look back at the puppy who's demeanor is now changed. It glances up at you, a mocking expression crossing its features. It bares its teeth in a twisted imitation of Mahito's smirk, its eyes gleaming with malice. The resemblance is uncanny, causing your stomach to turn.
For a moment, it seems as if the puppy speaks, its thoughts seeping into your mind. ''You'll never escape me,'' Panic sets in, realizing the disturbing truth. The puppy is indeed a part of Mahito, a manifestation of his twisted control over you.
''Wait! Who are you?'' you demand, scooting away from the creature. ''What... what does he want from me?''
The puppy tilts its head, its stance shifting to mimic Mahito's smug attitude. It gives you another smirk, identical to Mahito's menacing grin from the previous night.
Your heart races, and you freeze. Could it really be Mahito's doing? Or is it just your imagination playing tricks on you?
Frustration bubbles over, and you finally snap. With a sudden burst of anger, you strike the puppy, sending it tumbling off the bed. It lands on the floor with a soft thud, yelping in surprise.
''Get away from me, dog,'' you croak, pushing him away with a weak hand. ''This ain't funny anymore.''
The puppy whines softly, tilting its head as if confused. Its eyes seem almost pleading, begging you to accept its affection.
Feeling vulnerable and violated, you push yourself up. ''Go away,'' you insist, glaring at the small creature.
But the puppy persists, nuzzling against you, seeking comfort. Tears fill the puppy's eyes as it cowers, tail tucked between its legs. ''Don't... don't hurt me... please,'' it seems to beg, its pitiful whimpers echoing in the room, "please trust me."
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Dividers from @/cafekitsune
IF YOU WANT A PART 2 PLEASE COMMENT
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worldlxvlys · 2 days
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I have a request, if you’re taking them
can you do a dwb!Matt where reader relapses badly, and he has to help her through her withdrawals
if not that’s totally cool, but I’m a sucker for angsts so I thought I’d ask
help you
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dealer! matt sturniolo x reader
warnings: angst, drug addiction/ withdrawals, mentions of nausea, cursing
a/n -> please read with caution !!
i love you all and my dms are always open if you need to talk <33
MATT’S POV
“i’m fine, matt” she said for what had to be the millionth time.
she smacked my hand away with her own, while she attempted to pour water into a cup with her free one.
her hands were so shaky, she could barely get any of it in the cup. she let out a frustrated sigh, setting the pitcher down onto the counter.
“here” i spoke as i poured the water for her, handing her the glass.
“you hungry?” i asked as i grabbed a paper towel, cleaning up the spill.
“no” she spoke, moving her arm to her forehead to wipe the sweat that began to accumulate.
“when’s the last time you ate something?” i asked her.
“can we turn down the heat?” she asked, continuing to wipe her sweaty skin.
“the heat isn’t on, here” i spoke as i grabbed a washcloth, soaking it in cool water. i folded the washcloth in half, guiding her to sit down on the couch.
she placed the washcloth on her forehead, laying her head back with a sigh.
“is there anything you actually want to eat?” i asked, moving back towards her refrigerator. i was aware that she didn’t have an appetite, but she hadn’t eaten all day long.
“no, matt. i just don’t want to feel like this, i wanna go back to normal” she replied. “how long is this gonna last ? i don’t think i can take much more of this”
“hey, it’s ok. i’m gonna help you through this” i spoke as i made my way back to her, a granola bar in hand.
“no, you don’t get it. i feel like i’m dying, matt. my entire body aches, the thought of food makes me nauseous, i’m covered in sweat, and i’ve never felt weaker in my life. you wanna help? let me take something, anything. please, i need it matt” she looked at me with her eyes slightly widened, clutching onto my shirt.
i’d never seen her look so helpless.
“you know i can’t do that, baby” i spoke, grabbing her hand. “i’m gonna run you a bath, ok? how hot do you want the water?” i asked her.
“a bath isn’t gonna do shit, matt. you know what i need. let me take something or leave me alone”
“i’m trying to help you-” i started, quickly being cut off, “help me? you did this to me. this is your fault. tell me, what do you think happens when you sell drugs to people? do you know how many people you’ve made just like me? you’re no saint, matt. you’re actively helping people ruin their lives”
she didn’t mean it. of course, she didn’t . she’d say anything to get her fix. but that didn’t make her words hurt any less.
she wasn’t telling me anything i hadn’t told myself before. and i hated that i let her end up like this. she was right, this was my fault.
i should’ve done a better job at protecting her, at keeping her safe. i couldn’t do anything about failing in the past, but i damn sure could prevent it from happening in the future.
“you’re right, this is my fault. but letting you erase your progress now would only end up hurting you more in the long run. the only way i can help you is by being here for you. so you can yell at me, be mad at me, be annoyed with me, i don’t care. i’m not going anywhere, okay?”
instead of saying anything she just blinked up at me, nodding her head gently.
“now, how hot do you want your bath water?”
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dwb! matt masterlist
main masterlist
tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris
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justporo · 2 days
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Hi JustPoro! I wanted to share an observation with you. Maybe you can turn this into some headcanon, fanfic or just share your thoughts on it? I just started my second BG run, romancing Astarion again. I didn't really see/notice it months ago on my first run, but now it's so obvious that when Astarion is sincere he always touches his own hands and fingers, like a tell. One moment he leans forward, looks you in the eye, spreads his arms, demanding all your attention. But the next moment he looks to the side, his words become smaller, he puts his hands in front his body and starts playing with his fingers, basically shrinking back into himself, even if he still smiles. It happens a few times and it's such a heartbreaking detail. How do you think the Tav would react when they first catch on to this?
Hi Anon, thank you so much for hopping in my inbox. And oh, this is a very good observation. So I wanted to write a little drabble about it.
If you see any typos: no you don't (it's not proofread, psst)
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As a former thief you knew a tell when you saw one.
Because back in your thieving days it was part of your set of skills needed to survive. You had to know when someone was trying to rip you off. 
Astarion had a tell. Quite an obvious one too.
You hadn’t fully figured out yet what it was he was lying to you about or trying to hide from you. But it was clear that something was up, something going on behind these unusual crimson eyes, whenever he started to fidget with his hands.
Admittedly, you probably had figured it out as quickly as you did because you had stared at his hands quite often. They were beautiful hands: quite big, long, elegant and immaculately cared for fingers. You had to admit you had a thing for hands; but Astarion’s especially.
You knew exactly what those hands could do: from lockpicking even the meanest locks and making it look like magic in its own respect to dramatically being flailed around to underline the point the vampire was making; to oh so easily finding this delicate spot between your legs, caressing it, toying with it, making you lose your mind - with nothing but a touch of those fingers.
But the physical intimacy you had shared didn’t mean you were on the same terms in other aspects of your relationship.
And so the first time you noticed Astarion’s small nervous habit you didn’t let it show that you had noticed. It had been a delicate subject obviously. One of those rare moments where the vampire let precious details of his past slip.
From just the few things he had shared with you, you could imagine the horrors he must have lived through.
And from the way his body gave him away, you were sure of the pain it still caused him.
It was when his shoulders fell, his whole body basically folding in on himself from his usual cocksure flamboyant posture and attitude. His ruby eyes seemed leagues and eons away, still lingering agony swimming in them.
Those were the moments where unconsciously he started to nervously play around with his hands, obviously not even noticing. Tugging on the fingers of the other hand, pressing the thumb into the palm of the other - as if trying to give himself at least a bit of reassurance or to pull himself back by the pressure applied. And then the moment quickly passed again. Hands falling to his side again.
And so you took note but remained silent.
Until this fateful night back at Moonrise towers when Astarion had made a confession to you, you hadn’t ever expected.
Immediately it had been obvious how upsetting and strenuous it must have been for him to bring himself to even bring it up with you. So much so that you were sure he must be close to ripping his own fingers off judging by the way he worked while he opened up about his feelings for you.
So if this wasn’t the moment which would it ever be? As Astarion kept speaking you stepped closer, his eyes immediately growing big and round. So obviously afraid. Not of but of what he feared was about to happen. His words died on his lips as the vampire could only stand and watch, positively becoming a statue. His hands froze in position in front of his chest.
That’s where you gently grabbed them from with your own. He let you. Too shocked to react in any other kind of way.
“Did you notice,” you began as you started to gently massage them “that you tug on your hands when you’re upset or nervous or…” You blushed a little as you didn’t manage to finish your question, letting your gaze drop from his to where his hands were mingled with yours.
“I do?” Astarion replied bewildered, fully thrown off his groove and what he had planned to say.
You nodded, still not able to look up at him again, but kept softly soothing his fingers.
Silence fell between you as you kept going, feeling how your warmth spread to him.
After a long while you found the courage to look Astarion in the eyes again. He seemed transformed. A gentle smile was tugging on his lips, eyes full of warmth and kindness. None of that fearful behaviour that made him sink into himself but also none of the cocky performance he so often put on.
Instead, Astarion seemed genuine. Probably more so than you had seen him be this far.
And when he finally continued his speech, you felt more of that. All while you kept holding onto his hands. And - as you felt by the end of it - as he was holding onto yours.
Later, you of course still noticed those moments when Astarion nervously toyed around with his hands. But now you had no good reason to not go and do something about it.
So, whenever you noticed it happening you softly grabbed his hands, untangled his fingers and wrapped them with yours. Or pressed your palm against his. Or kissed his fingers one by one. Until the moment had passed.
And later still, when Astarion had started to learn to rely on you, you found he sometimes came to you, grabbing your hands for a bit of support. You squeezed his in reassurement and let your thumb wander over the back of his hand in these moments - until he squeezed back. A silent thank you, you’ve come to know.
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