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mattscoquette · 5 days

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“ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝜗𝜚 “

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt loving his girl through a depressive episode

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mention of depression, anxiety, not eating, use of pet names, slight animal neglecting (not intentional!) no use of y/n, not proofread

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐚/𝐧: i wrote this in like an hour lol all of y'all in my inbox rlly got me in my feels about matt helping his girl thru a rough patch :( i've struggled a lot with my mental health over the years so i rlly liked writing this one. if anyone ever needs someone to talk to i am always here!!!! even if we don't know each other u can always reach out to me. i love u all :)

xoxo ₊˚⊹ ୨ৎ

⋆｡˚ ౨ৎ

the white walls of your bedroom began to get all contorted and fuzzy in your vision, you remembering to blink. you shut your eyes tight, sighing, praying the heavy feeling in your chest would just go away. your eyes re-opened, the plain wall staring back at you. you weren’t sure how long you were in this position, you being in and out of sleep for the past few days, or weeks even, you weren’t sure. your memory was hazy, you unable to recall anything other than you laying in bed, staring at the wall opposite you. you had only gotten out of bed a couple times from what you can recall, but only to use the bathroom and feed your cat when she kept meowing beside your bed. you can’t remember the last time you checked your phone, it probably dead somewhere trapped in between your dirty sheets.

you been this bad in a while. every now and then you would have days where you would just lay in bed all day, the thought of even sitting up draining you. but it hasn’t been like this in a long time. you were always the type to keep your feelings in, no matter how many times people offered to talk with you. you just couldn’t burden someone like that, you thinking your problems were small and insignificant. you couldn’t help it, you’ve been that way forever. the only way you ever opened up was when someone would pry, practically spreading you apart just to get something out of you. most of the people in your life didn’t bother with that, until you met matt. you’d been dating for nearly two years now, and he knew you like he knew the back of his hand. you both instantly clicked with one another, the two of you just pairing so well together. you both had a spidey-sense for each others emotions, often times one of you sensing the other was off before they even knew it themselves.

so with that being said, when matt or his brother’s hadn’t heard from you for the last five days, he knew something was wrong. he’d last seen you when he dropped you back off at your apartment last weekend, not speaking with you since then. he knew you were feeling a little under the weather, so he thought it best to just leave you alone and get some rest. after a few days, he began to worry, all of his texts still being on delivered and his calls going straight to voicemail. so he took it upon himself to drive over to your place to check up on his girl, hoping you were okay and just a little sick.

he let himself in with the key you had given him after a few months of dating, immediately being met with the mess that was your apartment. the dishes were piled in the sink, the garbage overflowing, the plants scattered on shelves and dressers beginning to welt.

“baby?” he called out, stepping inside the apartment, your cat instantly padding over to him, nudging herself against his calf.

“in here,” you tried to yell, your vocal chords only allowing you to speak at a whisper.

he made his way back into your bedroom, his heart dropping at the sight of you. your room was a disaster, clothes scattered along the carpeted floor, your shades drawn shut. matt climbed into your bed under the covers with you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your head.

“i’m sorry matty,” you spoke, your voice emotionless. you hated when he saw you like this. most of the time, you swallowed your pride, asking him to come over to try and cheer you up. this time it was bad, and you could barely allow yourself to be this vulnerable, so letting your boyfriend be exposed to you in this state made you so anxious. he had enough issues to deal with, you couldn’t possibly dump all this on him. he deserved someone so much better than you, someone who could hold their own and didn’t need to be cared for like this.

“don’t be sorry, please. it’s okay, it happens,” he reassured you, pressing kisses to your hair, “how long have you been in bed for?”

you shrugged, it being too much to even talk right now.

“okay, do you remember what you did the last time you got up?”

your eyebrows furrowed, trying to recall. everything was so hazy in your mind, you unsure what day it even was. “i think i went to the bathroom and fed luna.”

matt hummed, beginning to stroke your arm as you laid on him. you two stayed like this for a while, matt just caressing your arm and giving gentle kisses to your head. after a bit he sat up, pulling you up with him.

“let’s get you in the shower, mkay love?” he told you, the thought making you anxious. you barely had enough energy to talk, the idea of showering making you panic. matt sensed your worry, scooping you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the closed toilet lid as he ran the hot water. “you just get in, i’ll be back in a few.”

you nodded, stripping yourself of your week old pajama shirt and shorts, stepping underneath the hot water as matt left. your legs felt like they had anchors tied to them, you leaning against the wall and sliding down on the floor, curling your legs up into your chest as you hugged them. after god knows how long, matt came back like he promised, joining you in the hot steam. he pulled you up gently, grabbing you fruity scented shampoo as he squirted it into his hand, massaging your scalp gently. you sighed contently under your breath, trying your best to relax as you let matt wash you.

you felt like such a burden to him, embarrassed you couldn’t perform a task as simple as washing your own hair and body. when matt was done, he wrapped you in a fuzzy towel, drying you off before helping you slip into a fresh pair of sweatpants and your favorite hoodie of his. without even asking, matt reached into the drawer to grab your hair brush, him starting to gently untangle your hair with the bristles. “i changed your bedsheets for you,” matt spoke as he combed his way through your knots, “and i put all your dirty clothes into the washing machine too.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly.

“i wanted to.” matt smiled, smiling at you from his reflection in the mirror. “i tidied up the kitchen as well, and i watered your plants and changed luna’s water and food bowl.”

this is what set you off, you breaking away from matt’s brushing, turning around and hugging his bare chest tightly, sobs escaping your throat as you broke down.

“i’m sorry i’m like this,” you told him as your voice quivered, “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“nothing is wrong with you, my sweet girl, nothing at all.” matt told you while he held you. “just let it all out for me baby.”

and so you did. you cried, holding on to matt with a grip so strong you’d think he’d slip away if you let up at all. he allowed you to cry, not caring about anything else in those moments other than just being there for you. he whispered soft encouragements into your wet hair, kissing your head every now and then, reminding you that he loved you. after some time, your broke away, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. without a word, you turned around, letting matt finish brushing your hair and braiding it.

“i love you so much, matt.” you said almost to yourself, looking up in the mirror to meet matt’s gaze.

“i love you so much more.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist while he placed a delicate kiss behind your ear. “i ordered us some lunch, it should be here any minute.”

you nodded, following matt into your now clean living room. he stepped outside for a moment, retrieving the brown paper back that contained takeout from your favorite sushi place. the two of you sat on the couch, eating together in content silence. when you were done, matt cleaned up for you, coming back to where you resided on the couch. “let’s go for a drive, beautiful, okay? you need some fresh air.”

you sighed, looking up at him with sad eyes. “i can’t matt.”

“you can, my love.” matt said, sitting beside you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you leaning into his touch. “you did so much for me today, i’m so proud of you. when we get back home we can go to sleep, i just need you to get out of the house for a bit.”

you nodded softly, allowing matt to stand up with you as he guided you out to the car. he held the door open for you and buckled you in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he walked around to the trunk, getting the blanket he kept in the van and tossing it across your lap.

the both of you drove around until matt’s gas light turned on, the windows down the whole time as your favorite songs played from his speakers. he had stopped to get you guys coffee and a sweet treat, this causing you to smile for the first time in days. he’d finally gotten you to talk more, the both of you conversing about anything and everything. when you returned back to your apartment, matt carried you back inside bridal style, settling you down on your bed.

he crawled underneath the newly clean sheets with you, holding you close to his chest while your legs intertwined with his. matt pulled away from the embrace for a moment, holding your face before kissing your lips lovingly.

“i love you so much, okay? you’re my girl, i’m always gonna be here for you.” he smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you grinned back at him, giving him another kiss before snuggling back into his chest.

“i love you too.” you mumbled in his t-shirt, slowly and softly drifting off into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in days, your stomach full, your clothes clean, your boyfriend’s arms around you.

you still had a long way to go. you weren’t sure if you would ever be one hundred percent better one day. but all you knew was that matt loved you and would be by your side every step of the way.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie @imwetforyourmom @69isabella69 @mattsturnxoxo @stonermattsgf @pettydollie @fawnchives @mmay4ever @sturniololvrrr @whosthislyssbitch @pr1ncessmatt @lanas-doll @55sturn @grimholic @livvy4realll

#‧₊˚ 𓂃 𝜗𝜚 #𐙚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #fanfic

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atanx · 3 months

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James Somerton's "A Measured Response": A Measured Response

so I watched a reupload of the video because idk i like to torture myself. and i took a bunch of notes:

“I tried to be a voice for every member of the queer community, but that was a failed endeavour before it even started.”

what a strange way to say ‘I tried making it seem like I’m the only queer creator and stole from and actively harmed people in the queer community. knowingly. purposefully. and when I was called out in the past I tried to hide it.'

“I'm a cis, white, gay man. No matter how much I try to be a good spokesperson, I can never really, truly, understand the life experiences of other, far more put upon, members of the queer community.”

so of course I stole and hid work from the people I can't understand, gutting it of their personal experiences and refused to redirect my audience to those people so that they can enrich themselves and hear about issues pertaining them from someone who actually does understand.

“...one of the reasons I used their own words. But I should have made it clear that that was what I was doing.”

BITCH YOU STOLE. YOU GUTTED THEIR STORIES OF MEANINGFUL PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. YOU WEREN'T USING THEIR WORDS TO BE ABLE TO TALK ABOUT THINGS YOU CAN'T ENTIRELY UNDERSTAND YOU WERE MILKING THEM FOR CONTENT AND DEPRIVING PEOPLE OF ACTUAL, SOULFUL, MEANINGFUL ARTICLES AND BOOKS AND DOCUMENTARIES AND VIDEOS THEY COULD HAVE BEEN WATCHING INSTEAD.

“Being a cis white man I thought I might win over some people who otherwise wouldn't listen.”

Yeah sure. Because racist transphobes are going to be watching your badly plagiarised gay film analysis.

“I would also like to apologise to Jessie Gender, who is one of the kindest people I ever met. Through my hot-headedness, I drew her into this anger spiral.”

‘through my hotheadedness.’. shirking responsibility onto an ‘ingrained personality trait of yours’ I see.

if you are so honestly sorry for being an asshole to Jessie why don't you fucking apologise to her directly? privately? not as a way to boost your own fucking image??

he's trying to earn good will by complimenting Jessie Gender “oh he knows to compliment an awesome person we have that in common I guess he can't be so bad after all” fuck you I recognise your strategies and it's gross to drag Jessie into this like that, she spoke out against you and you are trying to imply some sort of friendship or something between you. okay I cannot UNDERSTATE the way he tries to make it seem like they are close in some way and sort of drag her onto his side that's so fucking despicable. as far as I know Jessie Gender does not have a relationship with him of any kind?

once again bringing up death threats I see. obviously death threats are shite and anyone who threatens the dude in seriousness or harasses him will not see the light of heaven as Hbomberguy said but IN AN APOLOGY YOU DO NOT MAKE IT ABOUT YOU THAT'S MANIPULATION

also blaming the police for not clarifying a situation in a timely manner - the police are a flaming pile of garbage and I hope the institution explodes but NOT SAYING ANYTHING WAS YOUR CHOICE. THE POLICE DIDN'T MAKE YOU DO SHIT THERE

the problem isn't that you tried to “create a channel where all queer people could be safe”, the problem is that 1) you are a misogynist 2) you yourself engaged in transphobic behaviour and 3) you also actively supressed queer people's voices. The problem isn't that you supposedly wanted a space for all queer people, the problem is that you tried to MONOPOLISE queer literature analysis. fuck, queer doesn't look like a word anymore I've written it too many times now

(paraphrased) “I should have been helping with making queer people's voices discoverable” this makes it seem like he just didn't do anything and not like the reality that he was actively trying to rewrite history and bury LQBTQIA+ voices under his steaming pile of garbage

also BLAMING YOUTUBE AND THE ALGORITHM FOR ‘PUSHING HIM’ because he's cis and white, like maybe they did, I certainly wouldn't be surprised, but that is not why other creators suffered, a large part of that can be attributed to James Somerton stealing their work without any acknowledgement whatsoever apart maybe if they are lucky, a “based on” in the credits or their name flashing on screen for half a second.

“I should have done more to share the voices of other queer people” THAT IMPLIES YOU DID SOMETHING. YOU WERE ACTIVELY WORKING AGAINST THAT YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT-

“it was just my dweam to be a youtubew and when my videos gained twaction i felt pwessuwed to make mowe vewy quickly and that's why they wewe so shit uwu” fuck off you weren't pressured into shit you just wanted to make money and that's why you were a content mill

“early on I thought that crediting authors in the opening credits alone was enough” what about the times YOU DIDN'T EVEN DO THAT??? YOU'RE MAKING THIS SEEM LIKE THE DRAMA IS ABOUT YOU CREDITING PEOPLE WRONG WHEN ITS ABOUT YOUR SYSTEMATIC THEFT AND OPPRESSION OF THOSE YOU CLAIM TO MAKE VIDEOS FOR AND ABOUT AND THOSE YOU CLAIM TO MAKE A SAFE SPACE FOR. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK WATCHES YOUR VIDEOS?? WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID YOU CAN'T JUST PLAY IT DOWN

not him using Hbomberguy's example of the DEEP CUTS: SOCIETY AND QUEER HORROR video and claiming he credited all people in the opening scene when Hbomberguy highlighted he DIDNT EVEN CREDIT MOST OF THEM FUCK OFF ARE YOU DELUSIONAL HOW DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

I think I'm going insane this all seems so blatantly fake. he brings up the evil queens video and how he asked Sean Griffin, retroactively, permission to include his work in the video. and he shows a ‘screenshot’ of an email Griffin allegedly wrote to thank him for putting him in the title-card and that he thinks it is ‘a very thoughtful video’. only the text of the email header, such as Griffin's name, the RE:, and the To: is a lot smaller than the ‘text’ in the email, which leads me to believe that the below text is edited in some way. And with how hard James is trying to rewrite history, it wouldn't surprise me if he literally rewrote the email or cut things out to present himself in a more positive light. obviously I can't prove that the email is fake but I'll just say that I think the likelihood is very high that it is.

the way he says this also implies that he asked for permission after he made the video but hadn't published it yet. which is also blatantly false.

again trying to waltz off responsibility on nick, saying he was much more interested in production and implying that nick did all the writing .

“nick and I had both grown up poor so when I lost my job in 2021 (approx.) we of course were desperate and turned to producing videos even quicker and plagiarising the fuck out of all of them! but we can't help it we were both poor as kids!” fuck off, you weren't poor when plagiarising every-fucking-thing, this was in “the second year of COVID”. obviously if they really did grow up poor that sucks, and that's why we should eat the rich and redistribute their money. not plagiarise people who partly are poor or not financially cushy and manipulate thousands of people into believing you are the only queer creator.

also milking his mom's cancer. if you were really that worried about your financial situation, one would think that you would get an actual job for security and not put everything into your youtube career that is unstable, especially considering you've already done a lot of plagiarism and have no intention of stopping. “oh I plagiarised because my mom had cancer QAQ” that is so digusting to use a person's medical condition like that.

“i have memory issues because of a head injury i suffered as a child and that's why I plagiarise badly. see, I copy pasted the text with the intention to rephrase it later but forgot.” that would still be fucking plagiarism if he'd done that, also, if he's so aware of his memory issues and how they lead to him plagiarising, why didn't he try to work around that? leave himself notes? or tell nick to remind him to integrate actual proper credit and citations before uploading a video? mark the plagiarised stuff in the document with like highlighter or so when you're pasting it in?? oh but he didn't do all of that because he has ADHD. now, ADHD can be debilitating, but he says it's recently diagnosed so it must not have caused a lot of problems for him so far, so it's probably not severe and even if it is, it doesn't excuse him not crediting people properly. stop fucking hiding behind things ‘you can’t change' because if you truly can't you probably shouldn't be doing this in the first place.

“my mom really wanted me to make a movie with her life insurance but that wasn't paid out so I decided to crowdfund it. i planned to underpay the actors so hard it was under union wages. we got more money than we were expecting and upgraded to wanting to film a feature (final girl) but i didn't want to start working on it until the campaign was over for some reason that totally isn't me just wanting to exploit people for money!”

I'm not gonna go into the Telos stuff but he tries to explain it by claiming it was very unorganised and that's why they constantly ran into issues and that's why nothing ever got done and they were JUST about to start doing stuff when the Hbomberguy video released. You know what, I can believe it, although I am very doubtful considering all James ever does is lie. Idk.

once again trying to excuse his plagiarism with needing to pay two rents and thus needing to make more videos for more sponsors and not having the time to not plagiarise like please. i don't believe that they were in that dire need of money and if they were - just get a fucking stable job and put youtube on the backburner.

also once again trying to make it all about him by once again talking about his suicide attempt and death threats. like. no one should suffer through that kind of mental anguish but honestly I cannot bring myself to feel sympathy for this man. and i see this as an attempt to gather pity points.

“nick worked very hard on these videos other three years and it's unfair to [them] (james says that they're non-binary but doesn't indicate their pronouns anywhere? and in the beginning he uses they/them but later only he/him so idk what their pronouns are but it seems like they/them is at least part of their pronouns so i'm just going to use that) that they all got taken down” well y'all shouldn't have fucking plagiarised then. let this be a lesson maybe and don't fucking show your face on youtube again!

he is fucking relaunching his channel. like james. this isn't something you come back from. no one will ever be able to trust you ever again and you don't deserve an audience. he claims all the revenue will go to Hbomberguy's fund but we have no way to verify this. we have no way to know just how much he makes and how much of that is actually going to the fund. i don't trust him with any money. which is why i watched a reupload rather than the original. he's also releasing a new video he claims is entirely by him. like?????? don't???????

he also might not relaunch his existing patreon but he's still making a new one.

he claims he will “work his ass off” to make non-plagiarised videos. like that isn't “working your ass off” that's the bare fucking minimum. I really want to trust him. and I want to believe he'll actually try to do better. and maybe he will. and i believe in second chances, even for someone as despicable as him. but throughout this video he has continuously tried to play down what he did. tried to make excuses for everything. and that's why i am not going to give him a second chance. if he can't even admit what he did i don't trust him to not do it again. and i also just plainly don't want to endorse a person making such arguments.

also, he plugs his fucking new patreon right after this.

“this video is not about me promoting myself. it's about me apologising.” the only fucking person you actually ‘apologised’ to is Jessie Gender.

James Somerton: makes a billion fucking excuses. Also James Somerton: “These are not excuses. There is no excuse for what I did.”

this entire video was just a publicity stunt. he tries to humanise himself and repair his image. this is just a tool to be able to continue on and continue making money.

he also still claims the disney video was based on the Celluloid Closet and he credited the author and ignores that this wasn't the only author he fucking plagiarised in that video. he is trying to reduce his plagiarsm to incorrect crediting and mistakes and that is disgusting.

the least he could have done was mention by name out loud every author he plagiarised and what work he plagiarised. not just say “uuuh i'm sorry to everyone I plagiarised QAQ”

#james somerton #hbomberguy #james somerton a measured response #atanx.txt

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 1 year

Text

I Hate You

Five times Ed told Xenk he hates him, and one time... he tells him he hates him again, actually.

2.3k, Rated T for swears.

~~~

Xenk strides ahead through the winding tunnels of the Underdark, his pretentious cape billowing behind him.

It’s like he has his own personal wind, Ed thinks. Probably generates it himself, the smug bastard, no magic required.

The eery little creatures on the walls around them pulsate gently as they pass, their shimmering tentacles casting a dim blue light across Xenk’s armour. It glimmers. There’s something oddly hypnotic about it. Ed wonders when he last polished it. He was probably polishing it that very morning, desperate not to get a speck on it.

Fucking paladins. Fucking Harpers.

Ed watches him forge on ahead with increased annoyance.

“I hate you,” he whispers. Xenk says nothing, but the tilt of his head is enough for Ed to know he heard.

After the incident in Neverwinter, Ed does not become rich beyond his wildest dreams. He does not bring home cartloads of gold. He does not swap out cotton for silk and linen.

What Ed does is quietly curse Xenk under his breath every time he thinks about what he could have had. He isn’t poor - heroes of the realm aren’t left to freeze and starve, after all - but he always wonders what life would be like with a little more lining in his pockets.

That is what makes him to take the job offer when it lands at his feet. Although it’s a difficult job to say no to - a request from the old Lord himself, who has sought out Ed and Holga’s skills personally, to deal with what he describes as a spot of bother in a town a few miles from the city. This time, Kira is undeniably nervous but seems keen for them to go: they’re heroes, now, she reminds them. For the first time, Ed realises that she’s proud of him, and that would convince him to do nearly anything.

He muses, as he dodges out of the way of the snarling creature that’s been eating the local’s sheep and goes barreling into a towering pile of hay bales, that he is very glad Kira cannot see him right now. For a baffling moment, straw poking him in all the wrong places, he has no idea which way is up, flailing wildly for something to grab.

And then he does. He wraps his hand around something firm and strong and cold and—

He's heaved to his feet. Standing in front of him, radiant in his armour and the dazzling light, is Xenk.

Ed quickly lets go of his arm.

“Greetings, Edgin.”

Behind him, surrounded by villagers making ohh noises, is the decapitated body of the beast that Ed had been fighting, not seconds before.

“I had it under control,” Ed says.

“Of course.” Xenk smiles.

Ed thinks of the reward money. Of the accolades. Kira’s pride.

“...I hate you,” Ed says.

The smile does not fade. “Of course.”

First things first: Ed stinks. The stink is everywhere, it’s like it's in his bones, under his skin, in his head.

At least the damn dragon is dead.

“Please, oh heroes, please help us slay the beast!”

Ed had such high hopes. On the ride from their home to the mountainside town, he and Holga had been excitedly discussing how they would split the dragon’s hoard. Gems, jewels, piles of gold: they’d be rich, even after splitting it five ways.

Five. It had taken five of them to slay a dragon last time, after all.

And then, of course, there had been no gems, no jewels, no piles of gold taller than Ed stood.

What sort of shitty dragon hoards garbage?

No wonder the townspeople wanted rid of it.

He slides from the huge pile of muck. He can hear Holga cursing behind him, something about "and it’s in my fucking hair, too", while Doric, transformed momentarily into an enormous bear, attempts to lift a particularly sticky slab of debris from Simon.

Ed tries to stand, slips, and falls down again. This time at least he’s got his mouth shut.

“Need a hand?”

Ed looks up from where he’s on his knees in what he really, really hopes isn’t raw sewage. For a moment, he’s blinded by the sun, then the shadow ahead of him shifts, moves, and suddenly the light is blocked.

Xenk peers down at him, illuminated from behind, one hand extended.

Ed does not take it but instead struggles to his feet, determined not to fall again. He spits as he finally manages to stand.

“How the fuck—”

Xenk is spotless. From his dazzling armour to his perfect cape and his flawless skin. There is not a speck of dirt or shit or mud or even blood on him.

For a moment, Ed can only gape at him with his mouth open. He feels something cold and slimy slide down his back.

“I hate you.”

He goes to push Xenk aside (he dodges, of course he dodges) and strides away.

How Xenk became a regular member of Ed and Holga’s party, Ed just isn’t sure. It’s not just him: Simon, of course, joins them often, as does Doric when she’s able or the need arises. Ed enjoys having them both around - even if their whole on-again-off-again thing is beginning to piss him off - but Xenk is another matter entirely.

What really annoys him, really, actually gets on his nerves, is the fact that everyone else seems to love him. Sure, Xenk is noble and clever and a brilliant fighter. Yes, he’s a keen tactician and diplomat and is popular wherever he goes, and of course he’s the best swordsman Ed has ever seen and is furiously, distractingly handsome, but—

Where was that thought going?

Right, yes.

Everyone else loves him. But, of course, everyone loves Ed, too. Ed is just as popular, even if he is a bit more abrasive. Everyone loves a bard. That’s the way of things.

This is, Ed knows, a dangerous path to let his thoughts wander down when he’s several pints in as they celebrate a decisive victory and is swiftly seeing those pints down with several more, just to keep the first ones safe.

Simon is describing a stunt that Xenk pulled off to an adoring crowd of onlookers. Ed isn’t even sure what part of the daring deed he’s talking about, but the way the crowd is enraptured by his story is grating on him regardless.

Ed sees back his pint, nearly drops the tankard on the table, and the words spill from his mouth before he can stop them - not that he would try anyway.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

Simon doesn’t stop in his story. None of his audience notices.

But Xenk looks up. He catches Ed’s eye across the table. This, Ed thinks. Let this be it. Let him drop that stupid facade and throw himself across the table and hit me. Go on. He eggs him on in his mind. He wonders what his face is doing. Do it, he thinks. Do it.

Xenk… does nothing. He smiles, the bastard.

The next thing Ed remembers is being poured into a bed in the roof of the inn. Someone is holding him up, making sure he doesn’t trip. There’s a metallic sounding clang that puts his teeth on edge, and when he rolls over he realises that someone’s placed a mental bucket beside the mattress.

“Sorry.”

He looks up. Xenk leans over him. No: he doesn’t lean over him. He’s standing a measured distance away, holding himself carefully.

Ed mumbles something. Xenk smiles again.

When Ed wakes up, horrible dawn light slicing across his face, he’s alone.

It’s all gone a bit wrong. Ed would be the first to admit when it goes wrong, but this time—

This time they’re truly fucked.

They shouldn’t have gone in with three people. But everyone else was busy, and they were running out of time, and so they entered the tower as a trio: He, Holga - and Xenk.

He’s been getting sort of used to having him around.

Which is what makes this—

It’s what makes this so bad.

He hoists him up over the edge of the demolished floor, pulling him up onto the stone beside him. Holga calls from somewhere up above - she’s coming to get them. Just stay there. Just hold on.

That’s what he mutters to Xenk, too, as he pulls his armour away.

Ed has never seen Xenk’s cloak stained red, before. The colour looks wrong.

Xenk’s eyes are closed. Ed’s hands shake as he strips off the armour. Xenk would hate to see him treat the expensive plate so carelessly - not that he would see fit to tell him that himself, not in the sort of language that Ed would use, anyway.

Ed presses his hand’s to the paladin’s chest. He’d feared this. Not this exactly, but the fear of being without a magic user is what forced him to finally tap into his buried bard’s magic late sometime last year. The going has been rough, even with Simon’s - and, to Ed’s surprise, Xenk’s tutelage. He’s learnt little, but enough.

It has to be enough.

Ed’s hands stain Xenk’s shirt in scarlet smears. Xenk's blood is hot. Like this, he suddenly seems human. Fragile.

Ed mutters the healing words. It’s the only healing spell he knows, and he’s shitty at it and exhausted to boot, but at this stage he’s willing to try anything.

He feels the magic course through him, down his arms, into Xenk’s chest. There’s a strange, floating moment where he feels the steady thud of Xenk’s heart in his hands, all the way up into his core. Ed can feel his eyes drooping. He’s so tired.

But Xenk opens his eyes.

“Ed?”

Ed’s never seen him look so scared.

No: that’s wrong. He’s seen him look this scared once before - the moment the hand had wrapped around his torso and pulled him over the edge into the darkness.

Everything hurts. Ed pulls his hands away, and feels himself falling.

“I hate you.”

And then it all goes black.

A gentle wind carries with it the smell of fresh leaves and summer wildflowers. Behind Xenk, hooked neatly on the protruding branch of a tree, his cloak moves in the breeze like ocean waves.

Edgin is unusually quiet. He’s leaning against the tree, his lute on his lap, although he isn’t playing. He stares out at something that Xenk cannot see.

“Edgin?”

There’s no response. Xenk goes to sit next to him, crossing his legs and settling straight-backed at his side.

After a few more moments of silence, Edgin finally speaks.

“It’s been a year, you know.”

Xenk turns to look at him. He does not pay too much attention to the passing of time: the celebration of dates and numbers.

“Since?”

Edgin does not respond, but sits up properly, leans forwards, and tugs at the open neck of Xenk’s undershirt, exposing the edge of the twisting scar that splits his dark skin.

Oh. He supposes it has been a year: although it feels like far less time has passed. A lot has changed in a single year - a lot that once terrified him. It feels less frightening now.

“I see.”

“Do you?”

There’s a sudden heat in Edgin’s voice. Like he’s held these words back for too long, and now they’re scorching him.

“Do you see, Xen? Do you really?”

Xen. Xenk cannot remember the last time someone gave him a diminutive name. This is another thing that’s changed in the last year. Before, he would have demanded his full name. But now… Now it makes him feel like he belongs. He belonged to the Harpers, in a way. He had taken dozens of oaths, oaths designed to make many feel like one.

But this— this is different. It was different when Edgin and Holga accepted him as one of the gang, and it’s even more different now, sitting here alone in the sunshine with Edgin.

Ed.

“I—” he struggles with his words, now. He never did before. “Tell me how you see it.”

Ed takes a deep breath.

“It’s been a fucking year, Xen,” he says. His words have cooled but not extinguished, like fresh-forged red steel. “A year since I thought you were dead. Since we—”

Xenk knows what he’s thinking of. He’s remembering that night - the night after Ed had pulled him back from the brink, nearly throwing himself over in the process. The long, still evening broken by the quiet, quickly smothered confession.

“I told you I hated you,” Ed says, finally. His words are just steam, now. Light and ephemeral.

“You did,” Xenk agrees.

“I never— I never said sorry.”

“I know you did not mean it.”

Ed’s expression cracks. “Part of me did,” he admits, at last. “I hated you for— for leaving us.” And then, even more quietly: “...leaving me.”

The air feels heavy around them. Xenk twists around to better look at him. He takes Ed’s jaw between gentle fingers, feeling the scratch of his stubble, the gentle puff of his breath when Xenk rubs his thumb against his lip.

Ed does not resist as Xenk pulls him forwards and presses their lips together. Even now, it still thrills him - fills him in a way that all the magic and oaths in the world could not. Xenk thought he knew goodness, until now. He thought he knew devotion. He was wrong.

When they finally part, Ed stares at him with wide, dark eyes. He looks like a man lost.

He blinks once. Twice. And then his expression splits into one that Xenk has grown both familiar and fond of: a cocky grin to shrug off the fact that Ed has just experienced an emotion.

“You mushy bastard,” he says. “I hate you.”

Xenk grins, and kisses him again.

“No,” he says. “You do not.”

#dnd hat #dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves #edgin x xenk #xedgin #xenk yendar #edgin the bard #dndhat

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 1 year

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What is Simon 'Ghost' Riley actually like in a relationship (according to me)

A/N: I know this isn't anything like the things I usually write fics about but if I don't get this out of my system, I will spontaneously combust into flames from thought overload. There is a lot of great fics about him out there, 100%, but there is a steamy pile of garbage as well which makes Simon "an abusive asshole" to quote a TikTok I recently saw - and I couldn't agree more. So, here is my soft take on this tough guy and I hope you can enjoy reading this despite it being pretty far away from everything else on this blog.

Warnings: mentions of torture, violence, weapons, PTSD, profanity, explicit sexual themes but also so much fluff and softness

A/N pt. 2: I base this on Ghost's backstory according to the comic books as well as the video games but this is just my take so if you imagined him differently, that is totally valid!

* * *

Firstly and most importantly, Simon is a very different in his private life compared to his work; meaning he is good at separating the violent side of his work life from the life he has with you.

He must be the softest, the most gentle person there is when he is with you. I think he is very shy in the beginning as well as in early relationship given how his father treated him growing up. It is not that Simon wouldn't trust you, it's more that he would not trust himself. After all, after the Manuel Roba operation, he was tortured for months and came out with severe anger issues.

However, he was able to resolve this when he re-joined the military and engaged therapy but the scars remained: both mental as well as physical.

The reason why Ghost never takes off his mask is because of the scars Vernon and the lot left on his face (and the rest of his body). They are healed now but whenever he sees them in the mirror, he is reminded of everything he has been through, especially the loss of his family.

After Simon had told you why he keeps his mask on even in private life, at least the bottom part, you would not mind it as much but you would also reassure him that the way you feel about him could never be changed by some scars.

Needless to say, Simon would be very, very protective of you. He has lost everyone he has ever loved and cared about and he would never allow the same happen with you. It must be said though that Simon is not possessive. He above all knows the importance of freedom, especially when it comes to making choices about yourself and your comfort.

Still, Simon would face some control issues when you'd go out on your own. At work, he is used to being in charge of everybody, making sure everyone is safe and manning their positions. But with you, he needs to remind himself you are not going to war but just out with your friends, out grocery shopping, out to the library or somewhere. The thought of losing you drives him insane. He could never forgive himself if it happened when he could be by your side instead.

It goes without saying though that Simon prefers the comfort of his home to just about any other place. Clubs give him anxiety and the loud music triggers his PTSD, bars and restaurants are okay here and there but there is no place like home.

He does enjoy hiking and walking with you though.

Simon is romantic by heart so picnics in the nature would be his go-to dates. A bottle of wine, cheese and olives, a blanket in a spot with a view... You'd trace his features gently with the tip of your finger; the curve of his nose, his lips where he'd take your hand in his and kissed it softly as you would lay together in a secluded spot somewhere.

Bonus: when you decide to go home, Simon would never let you help carry any of the things he'd brought. Maybe the blanket but everything else, he'd pile up in his massive arms and carry them all the way home while barely seeing over the heap.

When it comes to sex, Simon would be just as reserved as with taking off his mask in the beginning. He would need much assurance from you that you really wanted to be with him intimately before trying anything.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon would never do anything that could even remotely hurt you when you had sex (or otherwise). On the one hand, he is well aware of his size and strength, and on the other, it is his childhood trauma that keeps him from trying anything that could potentially hurt you (even choking, spanking, etc. is not something he is comfortable with) even if you'd ask him to experiment.

Simon has seen, felt and inflicted too much violence in his life to have it included in his love life as well. All he wants to do is make you feel safe and loved especially when you have sex because this is one of the ways he expresses his love to you.

His sex drive is not that high but when you do have sex, he likes to make it special and intimate. Simon is very serious about it and wants you to enjoy yourself more than anything. To be honest, just seeing you climax causes him do the same.

He enjoys going down on your very much; the intimacy, the softness of your moans, his arms locked around your thighs when his fingers are not intertwined with yours.

Simon's favourite part though is the aftercare. He loves cuddling with you. Physical touch is yet another of his love languages although he was very reserved in the beginning of the relationship.

He is the big spoon the majority of time but sometimes (his favourite) Simon lays his head on your chest, wraps his arms around your waist and lets you play with his hair. He can fall asleep almost instantly.

It cannot be stressed enough that Simon never ever EVER raises his voice at you. Even when you are having an argument (which is not often), he never yells much less gets violent in any way.

He is a great listener and despite not saying much a lot of the time, Simon communicates well although he struggles very much to word his feelings.

After an argument or just for no particular occasion at all, Simon gets you flowers (a lot) - and different kinds every time. Another way for Simon to apologize is to cook for you. He is not very good at it but it is the effort that counts.

When he is away on a mission, Simon calls you a lot just to hear your voice, especially when he is too stressed to fall asleep. Your voice calms him down and help him get some rest but also reassures him you are alright whilst he is not there to keep you safe.

Simon likes to listen about your day, your feelings and your ideas. It keeps his mind far away from dark places. But every now and again, he would trust you with a fragment of his memories when his thoughts are just too loud. You know how precious and how rare it is that Simon opens up to you.

You don't say anything when he talks about his memories and his family but you always hold his hand, brushing your thumb across his calloused knuckles or drawing gentle shapes against his broad back.

You pepper his skin with soft kisses when his voice quietens and lead his head to rest against your chest as you pet his hair.

He likes to listen to you sing too, even if your voice is not the greatest. Even just humming a random melody and feeling your chest vibrate softly beneath his cheek will ease his heart.

Random bonus: Simon drinks English breakfast, no cream and one cube of sugar and has an occasional cigarette with it (Marlboro).

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare 2

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Three for One 9

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: No more work but we gonna werk.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Ransom pushes you back, slipping free from between your tits. He catches you by the back of the neck as he grabs his dick, pumping himself as he groans. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as his voice gets louder.

He finishes in hot spurts string across your face that make your skin crawl. You scrunch your nose as the chlorine-like smell tinges your nose. Your entire body threatens to revolt. It’s more than the act itself, it’s the humiliation.

He sighs and lets you go. You want to wipe your face off but you can’t bear to touch it. You lean back on your heels and hover your hand in front of you, trying to breath through the swell of nausea. A hand clasps around your wrist, tugging it away as you’re dragged back towards the tree. You stumble on your knees, flicking your lashes as the sticky glaze cools on your skin.

“Next,” Lloyd insists as a growl rises from behind you.

“Be nice,” Andy girds. His words mean nothing. He could stop this but he won’t. He won’t because he’s just like them. He wants this.

“Please, I don’t want–”

“I didn’t want a face full of Gucci garbage,” Lloyd bends over you with a snicker, “too fucking bad, isn’t it?”

You wince and lean away from him. Your first meeting flashes in your mind. You recall a similar state, being sprayed in the face unceremoniously. You shudder as he lets you go, a small shove on the back of your head.

You extend your arm as Ransom’s soft groans continue between mellowing breaths. This is deranged. These men are twisted and, as pathetic as they are, terrifying. You grab a small box from the pile and shakily lean back.

Lloyd hovers behind you as you sense the gazes of the others. You have no hope. Whoever it is doesn’t matter. You slide the bow off and tear the paper away. Your hands work on instinct as you try to prepare yourself, try to shut down any emotion.

You shake as you reveal a strangely curved piece of pink silicone visible through the transparent window of the box. Lloyd chuckles and bends to take the disposed bow from beside you. He looks at the tag.

“Well, well, well, looks like I’m up, but you know what, pussy cat,” he looms over you, “that one’s for you. I got it fully charged so why don’t you pop that in?”

You turn and look at him from the corner of your eye, not straight on. You consider the box again and the toy. It’s one of those hands free vibrators designed for couples. The woman wears it as the man controls it. The box buzzes and you drop it. It stops when it hits the floor.

You gasp and look above you as Lloyd has his phone in hand, “you’re getting off easy. Literally.” He smirks down at you, “what’s the matter, you need help?”

You gulp and shake your head, “n-no.”

You swipe up the box, picking open the cardboard box and slides out the plastic insert. The little instruction pamphlet is missing, confirming that he’s already gone in and opened it. You roll the toy in your hand, the flimsier part wobbling back and forth.

You lower your head and raise yourself on your knees. You pull the elastic of your panties as you angle the toy down the front. You bite down as you widen your legs, pushing your ass out as you lean forward slightly. It’s awkward as the men elicit snarling noises in response.

You find yourself wet. That startles you. It eases the insertion as the full part glides into you and settles snugly inside. You fix the curved stem and rest the little round nub against your clit. With your hand still down your panties, the toy vibes, just once and makes you squeak.

“Works,” Lloyd snorts.

You quiver and inhale, tenderly sitting back on your heels as you grip your thighs. Your eyes sting. You won’t cry.

“Next,” Lloyd demands before the silence can sink in.

He nudges you with his velvet loafer and you flinch. You shuffle on your knees again and grab a gift bag. The men behind you shift eagerly. You don’t even open the present and just read the tag. Fuck.

“Lloyd,” you croak.

“Ha,” Lloyd claps, “luck’s on my side,” he taunts, “looks like fate wants me to fuck that throat.”

“The present…” Andy suggests.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lloyd spins on his heel and struts away, sitting at the edge of the couch, “open it then get your butt over here, sweet stuff.”

You shake your head and reach into the gift bag. You pull out a medallion necklace set into the red box. It has diamonds encrusted around the edge. You know it’s not cheap.

“You can put that on too,” Lloyd sneers as you hear his zipper slice through the tension.

You pull free the necklace and hook it around your neck. You push the packaging away and fall forward onto your hands. You can barely keep yourself moving as your mind hazes. The surrealness threatens to paralyse you.

You turn and crawl across the carpet.

“Mmm, yeah, pussy cat, come to me,” Lloyd teases.

You ignore the scalding wave that flows over you. You try to block out the room, the watching eyes, and the man who orders you around like an animal. The animal you crawl around like.

You approach him as he pulls his dick out above his parents, knees wide as he gives a crooked grin. He lets his hard length flop back against his stomach as he sits back and bends his arm behind his head. He winks and looks down as he bites his lip.

“I think I owe you a taste, pussy cat,” he says, “Merry Christmas to me.”

You lift yourself up. Ransom’s silhouette moves in your peripheral as the armchair creaks out of your sight. The twitch of Lloyd’s dick makes your stomach curdle as he proudly repeats the trick. You put your hand around him and close your eyes, inching closer.

Your lips stop just over the tip of his dick. His hard, thick length bulges in your grip. You press your mouth to him and swallow back another tide of revulsion. You want it over with but given the amount of presents waiting under the tree, it might never end.

You open up to him slowly, coaxing yourself through the act. The salty trick that smears on your tongue threatens to flip your insides. You squeeze him and he groans, slapping the cushion beside him.

“Fuck, the grip on her,” he rasps and your eyes flick open.

His hand slides down as you urge your mouth down halfway, then back again. You’re not sure you can take all of him. He retrieves his phone from beside him. A sudden rumble awakens inside of you. The toy rattles you completely as you nearly choke.

Your teeth graze him and you still, trying to set yourself straight, dangling on your worst intentions. You could sink right in and listen to him scream. He swats the side of your head and ramps up the vibe.

“You fucking bite me and I promise you’ll be sorry,” he growls. You believe him. You’re not just being good for yourself but in that moment, you have to focus on you.

You push back down, your reflex threatening to trigger. Back up and you take a breath. The vibrator shakes you, adding to the torment, splitting you between pleasure and disgust. You slide back down and a weight spreads across your skull. Lloyd pushes you until you gag around him. He groans as your throat constricts.

“Mmm, you’re getting close, aren’t you?” He purrs, guiding your rhythm as he fists your hair. “I’m not feeding you ‘til you cum.”

Your eyes round and you let them roll back and close as they wet. You focus on your breath, not what you’re doing, not what you’re feeling. His hand slows your motion on him as you squeeze your legs together. The pulse intensifies, the small nub against your clit stirring your nerves. Come on, come on, almost there.

You moan, once, twice, again. Your body starts to quiver, you can’t help it. Even as he laughs, even as he rams you back down on his dick and nearly suffocates you. You’re swept up in the swirl of sensations.

Your body spasms as your orgasm flows over. You drool down his dick as he pulls you back then forces you back down. Fuck, it shouldn’t feel good. You hate it but the release is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The release of pressure leaks out of your, soaking your thighs as you keep them taut.

“Oh fuck, you like tasting me,” he purrs, “hm, you want more? Huh?’

You’re weak as he uses you, rocking your head as he grips it between his large hands. The wet noises of your mouth deafen you as you taste his anticipation. Feel it throbbing in him.

He grunts and slips a hand down to cradle his sack. You groan as he stills you, thrusting from below again as he leans his shoulders back into the couch. He fucks your mouth as he lets out a long rumble, cumming down your throat as he quakes.

He keeps going until your mouth is sloppy and your saliva mingles with his cum as it smears around your lips. He pulls you off him and you cough, covering your mouth as you spit up into it. He purrs and sways his leg in bliss as he rubs his chest.

“Fuck,” he growls as he looks down at himself and you blink away the haze, “these are designer.”

The fabric around the open fly of his pants is wet with your excess. You wipe your mouth, the filth across your face and pasty in your throat once more sickening you. Reality seeps back in as your head lolls and the tree lights blur in your vision.

“Next…” Andy prompts in a hoarse mutter.

You lean back until you fall onto your ass. You’re dizzy. You don’t know how much more you can take. Ransom gets up and you watch him snatch up two presents from under the tree. He drops them into your lap.

“Let’s turn things up,” Ransom declares as he stands over you, pants hanging slack from his hips.

You can hardly think. You just look down and set to opening the presents; another pair of earrings; rose gold hoops, and a bracelet with pearls. The tags tangle together and you read the names in a shaky squeak; Lloyd, Ransom. A long sigh from the armchair.

“Let’s start with these,” Lloyd pushes your shoulder so you fall onto your hands. He grabs your hips and lifts them, tearing your panties down your thighs. “I didn’t get to finish my breakfast.”

You’re guided around senselessly by the pair. Lloyd gets down on his back, a couch pillow under his head as he brings you down to straddle him. He moves the stem of the toy to the crease of your leg and slides his tongue between your folds. The vibrator continues to buzz as he adds to the overwhelming thrum.

Ransom pulls off his woolly sweater, tossing it onto the couch before he nears. He grabs your chin and forces your head up. His dick hangs out of his pants, limp but subtly twitching.

“Tell you what, you don’t even have to get me off,” he snickers, “just get me going.”

He mashes your face into his crotch. You open your mouth and your spit leaks out onto his soft dick. You reach for him, moving his tip between your lips. Your tongue works thoughtlessly, mimicking the one on your clit, swirling and flicking as weak moans escape you.

Ransom hardens in your grip, little by little until you can get a firm grasp. You suck on his tip until he purrs. Lloyd wiggles his head under you, pulling your down by his hips as he laps and a suckles.

Your hips buck as your climax takes over. You cum again, heart racing, breath hitching as your head spins. Every muscle aches as your lungs burn. You don’t know if you can keep up. The thought that this is only the beginning is enough to exhaust you.

There’s a rustle beyond your purview. Your eyes search but you can’t see past Ransom. A shadow appears at your side. Andy stands over you and rips wrapping paper away from a box. He shows you the Coach gift set, the same one you sold him.

“Me,” he proclaims, voice edged with frustration.

“That’s cheating,” Ransom puffs out as he frames your head between his hands.

“I don’t fucking care,” Andy snarls and snatches your hand, bringing it up to the front of his pants. Lloyd chuckles into your cunt from below.

Another zipper descends and your hand encircles thick flesh. Hard veins press into your palm as your arm is pumped, a tight grip on your wrist. You shut your eyes and dissolve into the madness of the moment.

The heat of their bodies storms around you, roiling with that radiating off of you. Your throat turns raw from the rampant intrusion, your cunt pulses with overstimulation, and your hand chafes on the hard dry flesh. All control slips beyond you as the men take over, each guiding you to their whim.

Your gulping, gagging moans rise into the air, lost amid their groans and grunts. Hands pawing at you, hips rocking, mouths moving. Bodies tangle together in the throes of depravity, dissembling the last of your reticence, trapping you in a helpless apathy.

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mysticheathenn · 4 months

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What Soul Tribe is Coming in?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The extended Patreon Members reading includes: (Both tiers)

What Soul Tribe is Coming in for You?

What will your Dynamic be like?

How and When Will You Meet?

Pile l:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 8 of Wands (reversed), Death (reversed), Temperance, 7 of Pentacles)

Garbage! I’m sorry to say this pile 1 but your friends aren’t your friends and I think deep down you know this too. For some of you, your friends don’t like to see you win. Every time you mention something that you have accomplished or you did something or anything good for yourself they always feel as if they have to always one up you or try to diminish your light pile 1. If they aren’t diminishing your light, they are always trying to make sure you don’t change and hinder any progress you want to make for yourself. An example would be when you go on a diet, wanting to lose weight and every time you go out it’s always somewhere not healthy and they try to “It’s only a small fry” or even do that dumb toxic shit where you’re eating a chicken caesar wrap while they have burger king and they go “Hmmm burger, wish you could have this don’t you.” I’m hearing for some of you, you’re the friend they always go to for advice or help but when you need something they are miraculously not there for you, or they don’t even try to give you any kind of good advice. Please know these are not your friends pile 1. I don’t know why you stay but you deserve better. I hope your tribe coming in is better for you.

What do you want out of the people around you? (Intuitive Message: Support & Accountability)

Support is the first word I heard from your guides that you want out of the people around you currently and for more supportive people to come into your life. Some of you may be struggling with depression and anxiety. I’m even hearing having suicidal tendencies that you sometimes have if not late at night sometimes throughout the day whenever you are feeling your lowest not having anyone to confide in. For a few of you, I’m hearing you want accountability from your friends as well. This may go both ways where you want your friends to hold themselves accountable for the sh!tty things they do and say toward you and other people. Maybe you have those delulu friends who think cheating is okay because they are female, and they have the mindset of men ain’t shit and they do it too. Maybe some of you need friends who will hold you accountable for your actions because you want to be a better person whether that’s having a glow-up or just needing to know your shit stinks too and you can’t be out here acting any kind of way.

Patreon Member Extended Reading (Both tiers) Pile ll:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 8 of Cups, 2 of Swords (reversed), 9 of Cups, 8 of Cups, Queen of Cups (bottom of deck))

Before I start your reading pile 2 I just want to say in my best Mr. Rogers voice “I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.” This is my pile that has either no friends or very few people they can call friends in their lives if that. Some of you may call the few people in your life buddies or acquaintances which is nothing wrong with that because, in today's society, everybody is a friend because people feel some type of way by anything lower than that title. Some of you recently cut off your friends with the 2 of swords card, maybe for a while you didn’t want to but eventually, you just got to a place where you felt “You can do bad all by yourself.” I sense the loneliness from this pile because you have no to very few friends but at the end of the day you’re trying to stand on business with the Queen of Cups because you know your worth. You know that being alone is better than having fake friends all around you. This message is for a very few of you when I say few I mean less than 10 but some of you could have been the “problem” in your friend's group. Maybe you didn’t realize how high of a pedestal you placed your standards on that nobody can reach it not even god himself. Maybe you’re the type who once someone does even the smallest inconvenience you cut them off because you don’t have time for drama. While again good for you, it’s okay to let people be human and mess up from time to time for small petty things that aren’t disrespectful or intentional (meaning anyone could have made that small mistake).

What do you want out of the people around you? (Tarot: the High Priestess (reversed), (The Hanged Man (reversed), Knight of Swords, Strength (reverse), 7 of Pentacles, & 4 of Swords)

“G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S” I’m hearing the song Glamorous by Fergie. I’m not only hearing that but I’m seeing it as well you flying high taking trips on your boss babe sh!t. You don’t want anyone around you who isn’t trying to get their life together pile 2. If you aren’t trying to get a bag, better yourself, or do something with their lives you want nothing to do with them. Another song coming through for you is Latto – “It’s Givin” “It's givin' boss bitch (Boss bitch), It's givin' boss b!tch (Boss b!tch, it's givin'), It's givin' bad b!tch (Bad b!tch), Never ever play me like I'm average.” You honestly would rather be alone than let another person come and play in your face when you have so much going for you or want to bring in so much into your life pile 2.

Patreon Member Extended Reading (Both tiers)

Pile lll:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 4 of Cups (reversed), Knight of Wands, Ace of Cups (reversed), The Fool, Queen of Swords (reversed), 9 of Cups (bottom of deck))

Unlike pile 1 your pile is neutral. It’s not bad nor good, it’s just the way it is. I’m hearing the song “The Way it is” by Bruce Hornsby the lyrics go “That's just the way it is Some things will never change That's just the way it is Ah, but don't you believe them.” Pile 2 there may be a rift happening in your current soul tribe. You’re literally the medium group out of all 3 groups. Pile 1 needs to change friends, Pile 2 is their own boss babe best friend, and you’re in limbo with your friends' group. You have new beginnings and things are changing for the best for you but your friends and you are either a) not seeing eye to eye on things anymore that you used to bond over because you’ve leveled up mentally, physically, or emotionally, or b) You’re in different stages in your life and just drifting apart because it’s time. This pile feels like you have had most of your friends for a long time, for some of you, you may have had a few of your friends since middle or high school and you don’t want that friendship to end because the history you share with this person and possibly because you’re afraid of any new friends coming in. You fear untouched territory when it comes to friends, you want familiarity and nothing is feeling familiar to you anymore because you are leveling up. But unfortunately pile 2 this shift is inevitable, it’s bound to happen either now or later on at some point and I’m sensing if you keep progressing this shift from happening you are bound to but heads drastically and dramatically where life will force you to end things with your current group. It’s time for you to be open to new adventures and people. It’s safe and okay to let others in your life. “No new friends” by DJ Khaled ft Drake is playing in my head. This maybe for a select few of you but some of you maybe the type of friend who wants to bring their friends for the ride on this new path you’re going on similar to how rappers always bring their day one friends on the ride because they want to see them eat and be taken care of because you feel they deserve it after all you guys had to go through to make it.

What do you want out of the people around you? (Tarot: 2 of Cups, The Moon, Queen of Wands, Knight of Swords (reversed))

Instead of the question “What does pile 3 want from the people around them” I kept wanting to say “What does pile 3 need from the pile people around them?” and the phrase equal partnership came to mind when the 2 of cups came out as the first card. You need people who are going to also want to do action for themselves and not just get a leg up from you and your success or soon-to-have success if you aren’t there yet. With the moon card there’s something that you aren’t seeing with your current group of friends that the universe (god, allah, etc) is trying not to let happen as mentioned before a dramatic falling out where you and your current friend group will get hurt. The song No Hook by Latto where she speaks on her getting money and her whole family started acting funny comes to mind. If I’m being honest 21 Savage ft Post Malone song “All my Friends” is perfect for this group the lyrics go, “Lost a few friends chasin' hand money (On God) Had the same friends when I was bummy (Straight up) They should've went and did stand-up 'Cause when the money come, n*ggas act funny.” You need friends who are on the same level as you pile 2 this is in no shape or form elitist but more so you’re not seeing that the more success you get in your life the people you call friends are going to slowly start acting entitled to your new-found abundance and success and you deserve better than that. You deserve people who will be inspired that you did something awesome for yourself and want to do the same for themselves without clinging onto you or trying to stand in the same spot as you without doing anything for themselves except exist. Cadi B “Don’t be the why her type of b!tch, be the how can I get next to her and be like her type a b!tch”

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I appreciate all of you, until the next reading.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed.

#spirituality #tarot reading #pick a card #pac reading #pac tarot #pick a pile #tarotcommunity #witchblr #pick a picture #tarot reader #patreon #divination #tarot cards #tarotblr #pick a photo

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steviewashere · 2 months

Note

#50 just make it hurt/comfort and really angsty and sad (I’m clearly in a sad mood asking this rn 😅)

First of all, I hope you're doing better! And hopefully this suffices the ask. I got a lil' crazy with it, wrote way more than a drabble (again), but who cares?

50: Writer's preference, I chose prompts 33: "Please don't do this." and 12: "I think we need to talk."

Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Steve Harrington has Nightmares, Steve Harrington has PTSD, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, (And Gets One!), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Arguments, Making Up, Mild Vomiting (Like One and Done), Miscommunication

————— Eddie notices a lot about Steve. Which makes sense, they’re dating, that’s supposed to make sense. But sometimes he wishes that he didn’t have to notice. That he didn’t have to hide his glances because he could spot Steve’s heavy eye bags, or the way his shoulders have been slumping, or how high strung and tight and angry he’s becoming.

The first time he sees a change in Steve’s demeanor, they’re hanging out with all their other survived friends. In his backyard. By the pool. Except, that’s not quite right. Everybody except Steve and Nancy are hanging out at the pool. They’re on opposite sides of the yard, surveying, keeping close eyes on everyone as they move and speak and laugh. At some point, though, Nancy decides she’s had enough waiting. She leaves her post, hesitantly sits next to Robin on the edge of Steve’s pool, and lets her feet soak in the water. Her smile comes easy and her eyes grow soft, and that’s when Eddie knows she’ll be okay. But he keeps his eyes on Steve.

Sure, he should be enjoying himself. Which he is, slightly. Standing in the shallow end, leaned up against the pool wall, just letting the water kiss his scarred skin. He’s sipping on a chilled beer. Talking languidly with Dustin and Lucas and Jonathan about music and games and hobbies. Then, Dustin leaves him. Leaves the water. Strides over to Steve, face set with determination, and a pep in his step. Eddie goes quiet in the conversation, looking over his shoulder instead to where Steve is tucked near his back door. Where he’s not drinking his beer, still sealed and dripping condensation onto Steve’s bare thigh.

Dustin asks him something. Steve shakes his head. He tries offering something else, gesturing loosely with his hand at the pool and the small group that he just came from, but Steve is adamant on his decision. But of course, Dustin never takes no as an answer. He pushes. Which leads to Steve roaring: “Dustin, fuck off!”

Everybody falls silent at that. Eyes on him. Steve bristles, chucks his closed beer to the wooden porch, and disappears into his house with a slam of the door. The beer is fizzing, exploded. And then Dustin starts crying.

That’s the first time Eddie notices a change.

The next time, it’s somewhat subtle. Steve spacey at work, quiet as he shelves tapes, not even talking with Robin. He tries speaking with Steve, but only gets some non-committal grunts instead.

His last straw is an argument they’re having. Currently.

Steve’s tired, bitchier than usual, tense in his shoulders and wild-eyed. Eddie tries to stay soft, give himself a chance to remain calm and keep in mind that Steve’s going through something. But that doesn’t even begin to deter the argument.

“Listen, I think it would be good for…us—“ You, Eddie doesn’t say. “—if you let me help you out,” he’s trying to persuade. He’s standing in Steve’s kitchen. Gesturing at the pile of dishes in the sink and on the counter. Pointing out how the garbage has overflowed. And how he knows laundry hasn’t been done lately. He’s trying to be polite about it. “It’ll be like when I first got out of the hospital, okay? You just rest up and I clean up a little bit, make you something that you want to eat, and we can cuddle and watch a movie.”

However, he knows he’s hitting a brick wall over and over. None of his words are making their way through. The softness is leaking from his throat, drying him out, making him want to puke. Steve huffs through his nose. Face red, eyebrows furrowed so hard that his eyes are nearly closed with it, nose flared, and mouth downturned so extreme he nearly looks like Beaker from The Muppets. “I don’t want your help, Eddie!” Steve shouts from his spot at the dining table. He wouldn’t let Eddie come any closer. “I’m not some child, you know that?! I’m fine, I can do this on my own, and I certainly don’t need somebody like you telling me what needs to happen!”

All at once, the gentle care nukes in Eddie’s chest. Replaced instead by a hazardous anger, red hot and corroding. “What do you mean by that?” He asks bitterly. Voice flat, devoid. “Thought we were over biases, Steve,” he spits.

Steve blubbers like an out of water goldfish. “I—That—You know what I mean, Eddie. Not like—It’s just—“ he flounders. His eyes trail down towards the watch on his wrist. They grow wet, but not the tears that come from sadness. These are tears of agitation. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says wetly; the first thing that fell from his mouth when Eddie began to bring everything up. “Everything’s perfectly fine. Just got behind in house chores, which is whatever, you know? Like—“ He chuckles darkly, a self-deprecating thing, something painfully normal. “—Who the fuck actually cares about how messy everything is, right? Just leave it alone. Let’s…Let’s go cuddle,” Steve says hastily. He clambers up and out of his seat, around the table, and into the kitchen. Wrapping himself tightly around Eddie, cheek pressed to his chest, trying to pull them into the living room.

But Eddie doesn’t wrap back. He steps away. Putting distance between them. “I don’t want to do that with you right now, Steve,” he mutters. “That fucking hurt. What you said. I don’t really feel comfortable being here right now. Forget that I brought this up, okay?” He steps around Steve, who stands stunned and heartbroken in his own kitchen. Eddie’s in the doorway before Steve has the chance to reach out and touch him again. “I—I think we need to talk. But I can’t do it right now. I can’t…Why would you say that? Jesus, Steve.” And yeah, he had different intentions when coming over here. Wanted to soothe whatever was going on. Figure out how he could help. If he could help. In fact, he would’ve been fine with Steve pushing him off again, insisting on a topic change. He would’ve let it happen. But not now.

He makes sure the hurt is shown on his face before he leaves. Before he has a chance to rub his eyes and sniffle. And ignores how Steve calls out to him. He needs to calm down before he says something he might regret, something that would hurt worse than what Steve said to him.

They don’t cross paths often after that. Sometimes Eddie sees him at Family Video, but not for very long. In just to rent a tape and get out, hurt simmering unrestful in his ribcage. He can spot Steve out of the corner of his eye, reaching out, stepping in place, mouth opening and closing. But he ignores what he has to say.

Sees Steve when he drops off people for Dungeons & Dragons nights at the Wheeler’s house. But he scurries off before anything can happen. Other people start to take notice and Eddie has to shoot a warning glance with a gritted, “It’s private. I don’t want to tell you.”

Today, though, he notices Steve dropping something off at Max’s. She takes the offered thing from his grip, shuts the door softly at his back, and then Eddie finds Steve’s eyes. Hard not to notice him when he lives only a short distance away from Max’s place, but what greets him makes his stomach knot. Steve is unwell. Pale and jumpy, eyes bloodshot, his eye bags heavy and dark circles so purple—he almost looks bruised. His hands are shaking, clothes are rumpled, and his hair is…greasy, flat, knotted. Eddie puts out the cigarette he’d been smoking and walks calmly and quietly down his steps. Crossing to Steve’s bumper.

“Hey, baby,” he greets softly.

Steve startles anyway. Turning with his hand gripping tight to his door handle. Tugging on it, though it must be locked. His eyes are wide and devastating. Wet, exhausted, puffy and swollen. They’re red raw. Like he’s been crying. And rubbing at them, too. At a closer look, Steve’s cheeks are blank of any color at all, slightly gaunt. His lips are chewed to all hell. And his facial hair is wiry, outgrown. Unkempt.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs, stepping closer. He places a firm hand to Steve’s left bicep, squeezing ever so gently. Runs his thumb over the taut muscle. “Can we talk inside? Let me make you a cup of tea and get you something to eat?”

He doesn’t say anything, but does release his hold on the car handle. Follows slowly to the door, but doesn’t come close to the couch where Eddie gestures to.

“You can sit on the—“

“Please don’t do this,” Steve sobs.

Immediately, Eddie comes closer into his space. Hands splayed in front of him, ready to reach out and touch and hold, but isn’t sure if that’s allowed. “What? What shouldn’t I do, Steve?” He questions. His voice quivers with concern.

“Don’t leave me, Eds,” Steve cries, rattling and shaking with it. His chest stutters. Hiccups in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry—I’m so—I didn’t mean it, I was just upset and I know that’s not okay, but I—“ Steve gags harshly, doubling over with it. Eddie rushes behind him, grabs for the waste bin, and sets it out in front of him. “—I was being an asshole and I’m sorry and I’m sorry that I hurt you and that you thought I thought bad about you, but I didn’t, I didn’t, I don’t, Eds—“ Eddie can’t even understand the rest of what he’s babbling, it’s incoherent, strung tight with snot and saliva and tears, but it renders too much. Steve finally reaches out for the trash can, hurls harshly, and drops to his knees with his grip still on the can’s lip.

Eddie crouches beside him. Hand on his back, on his forehead. Holding to him firmly, ignoring how sweaty and cold he is at once. A part of him withers at how he made things worse. It wasn’t his intention, to make Steve worry this bad, but he definitely instilled that fear. And now he needs to just glue back together what he cracked.

When Steve is able to calm down, collapsing heavily against Eddie, does he speak softly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I guess we both used our words wrong. I’m just so worried about you, I swear. This isn’t—I would never lead you on about a break up. And that’s not what this conversation is, I promise, Stevie.”

Steve sniffles noisily. He koalas himself around Eddie, burrowing his face into Eddie’s chest. He’s still shivering, sweaty, and weak. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“I forgive you, Steve.” He holds to Steve tightly. Crushing him in closer, not caring how it makes his back ache or his knees scuff the floor. Doesn’t care about how Steve’s tears soak through his shirt or the sure mess of snot left behind. He squeezes Steve’s back and states softly, “I’m just so upset that you think you have to be fine. That you can’t ask for help. That you have to deal with everything on your own.”

“I—“

“Please just talk to me, Steve. What’s going on? I just don’t understand where you’ve gone, you know? You’re so tired and angry and tense all the time. You don’t want to talk to anybody. You keep pushing us away, closing yourself off. But then you don’t take care of yourself,” Eddie rambles, his voice growing weak and choked. “I’m sorry that I—I don’t know how to talk about this without sounding like an asshole. I’m just worried. Worried that…That something’s terribly wrong.”

The implication of Vecna is not lost between them, if the way Steve tenses says anything.

Carefully, Steve pulls himself away. Staring wide and timid at Eddie. Before he breaks with another cry of, “Everybody keeps dying, Eds. The nightmares. They keep—I can’t sleep. I see it everywhere.”

“What do you see?” Eddie asks, voice shaking. Please don’t say that clock. Please don’t say the clock, Steve. Please, he internally pleads.

“Death,” Steve whispers. “Everywhere. In everybody. I see…Nancy drowning and Robin beaten and Max broken. I see you covered in blood with chunks of you missing and you don’t look at me, you just look over my shoulder and you’re gone by the time I find you. I just see it. I can’t—I can’t stop seeing it, Eddie.” He curls his hands tight into Eddie’s shirt, nearly ripping it off of his back. “And I’m always alone,” he hiccups. “Alone when I wake up. And so I leave, I drive around, I wait to see if anything bad happens. But I can’t sleep.”

Eddie brings a hand and swipes back at Steve’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He leans in and leaves a gentle, sticky kiss to the skin. Pulling back, he offers, “When you’re ready for bed, you find me. Call me so that I can come over. Or tell me to come get you.” He cups Steve’s face, holding him between his hands. His cheeks that are splotchy red, tacky with tears. Eyes hazel and shiny and slightly defeated, yet hopeful. Eddie tickles his thumb over the bridge of Steve’s nose, his cupid’s bow, between his eyebrows. “Stevie, baby, I never want you to think you’re alone again. Ever. Seeing you so distraught all the time was killing me, but I’m here to help. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

“But…I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself, Eds,” Steve argues quietly.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Eddie states. “You’re not supposed to be alone, not all the time. And if laying with you until you fall asleep safely, or showing you how fine everybody is, making you a sandwich or doing the dishes—Whatever, whatever helps you out, I’m willing.” He presses another soft kiss to Steve’s lips, the tip of his nose, on his forehead. Murmuring, “You helped me. It’s my turn, don’t you think? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Steve shrugs. “Am I supposed to just sit around?”

“You don’t have to, but you could relax. Watch a movie or do something that’s not exhausting,” Eddie explains. “Being independent, you know, doesn’t mean exerting yourself at every possible moment. Or ignoring things that bother you. Or hiding your hurt. It means seeking help, even if you do it on your own. It means sticking up for yourself, even if what’s hurting you is you.”

Against Eddie’s palms, Steve sighs through his nose. “Okay,” he mutters. “Can…Can we take a nap? I’m really tired,” Steve tentatively asks.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll find my soft pajamas for you, too.” He stands, offering out his hands for Steve. Tugs him up. And when they’re at eye level, “Steve?” Eyes on him, zeroed in and focused. “I want you to bother me. Be a nuisance. Take up space.”

“Are you sure?” Steve murmurs. “I can be a lot.”

“Loving you means loving all of you, sweetheart. Even the excess parts. Which, by the way, aren’t excess. Because I love taking care of you, despite what your brain is surely telling you,” Eddie says. “Come on, I’ll take care of that can while you lay down.”

He’s glad he noticed. But he’s happier at the sound of Steve’s soft snores, puffed over his bare neck, and the drool that will surely dry on his collarbone.

——— Drabble Prompts Ask Game

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my asks

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inthepassengerside · 2 months

Text

Halloween

warnings: oral (f), fingering, sir like once, dirty talk, cuddling before and after

a/n: this is old </3

masterlist

It was getting late. You had decided to go to a party closer an opposite side of the city with your friends—who were best friends with a group of boys.

It was a Halloween party, you had just dressed up as a simple angel. You had nothing in your closet as it was a last minute decision to go, and that was the only thing you could put together from previous years.

It was your third year of college, and you weren’t one to turn down a party. Even though you were upset at your friends for feeling the need to attend an hour before it begun, you still went. It was Halloween! You wanted to have fun.

So, you put on your white eyeliner and cute outfit and decided to go have a ball. You might have looked a little childish since your friends dressed, well, to be undressed, but, you hoped they could get some and have an eventful night. You weren’t looking for anything other than a good time.

As to the particular boys who were hosting this party, they were all nice. Calum was the closest to you guys, always checking up in the group chats and reaching out to invite you to these type of things.

None of the boys were dressed up, each in comfortable house attire. You thought it was very lame, not the type of energy a Halloween party should have.

Sometimes you felt forgotten, but it wasn’t anything towards your friends. You just weren’t as close to all the people they were. You got along with them well, Ashton, Michael, Calum, and Luke. You had spoken to Luke less than the others, as he was a little shy, but you knew he was a good guy.

As it was getting late, an incredibly heavy thunderstorm had begun. The people in the room lessened as bodies were leaving and you and your friends helped clean up. Nobody ever bothered to stick around for that part.

“Wow, it’s incredible outside,” Michael said as he walked to throw out some garbage he picked up.

“Oh shit! What are we going to do? We can’t drive home in this. The one time we all stayed sober, too,” Your friend let out a chuckle.

As all they all talked amongst themselves they decided it was the best to spend the night. Heat rose to your cheeks. Where were you going to sleep? You didn’t like sharing rooms or spending the night anywhere other than your bed. Thunderstorms terrified you already.

You sighed to yourself and sat down on the sofa as you finished your last spot of cleaning.

“There’s a spare bedroom upstairs. It’s a queen sized bed. There are four of you though, anyone can take the floor or we can pull out some cushions from this couch,” Ashton shrugged.

You spoke up before anyone else took the offer, “If you guys are all cool with sharing a bed I’ll just take the couch down here,”

“Are you sure? There can be enough space if anyone wants to stay in our rooms too,” Calum said.

Luke was looking at his feet. He ruffled a hand through his hair and then pulled out his phone, sitting down across from you.

“Nah, thank you, but it’s fine. I honestly prefer it,” You sent him a shy smile, to which he mirrored back.

Your eyes landed on your friends, who were each sending you apologetic looks from across the room. You also smiled their way, waving your hand, telling them not to worry about it.

Ashton sighed, “Well, it’s been a long day guys, so I’m heading up. Thank you all for coming, we’ll see you in the morning.”

Everyone agreed and said goodnight, piling up the stairs one after another, except Luke, who wandered a few steps away into his room and shut the door.

It actually felt nice, the air conditioner kept the room cool and a comforting silence.

The only thing that sucked was the clothes you had on. You were waiting for someone to offer, but you’re sure it just slipped their minds. You were wondering if you could pull off just sleeping in your costume, but the thought of your skirt riding up and one of the guys finding you on the couch exposed made you nervous. You wandered over to Luke’s room since he was the closest and knocked on his door.

It took him a minute before he opened the door, his hair matted against his forehead and his face a little red, breathing heavy which was concerning. You decided not to dwell on it and just ask before he fell asleep. It had been a solid fifteen minutes after everyone said goodnight.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t sleep in these clothes. Do you mind if I borrow some? I swear I’ll have them back in the morning.” You rambled, biting the inside of your cheek out of nervousness. You wouldn’t feel this bad if you had talked to him on the regular, but you didn’t.

It took him a little while before he actually responded, just staring at you, “Yeah, yeah of course.”

Luke opened the door wider so you could walk in. You took the time to admire the small, but comfortable room he had as you waited for some clothes. A tiny sofa chair, guitars, and posters aligned in a corner along with other items that resembled his character.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see Luke, holding folded items as he extended them out to you.

“Thank you so much,” You said as you showed a small smile, “Like I said I’ll have these back tomorrow.”

He waved, “Stop, I don’t care about that. Get some sleep. There’s a bathroom along the other side of this wall for you to change.”

You glanced out the door to where he pointed and started walking towards it.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” You said to the blonde boy, making your way into the bathroom.

You set the clothes on top of the sink and started undressing. He had given you four items. A pair of boxers, a t-shirt, crewneck, and sweatpants. You put on the boxers and t-shirt and left the others on the sink folded next to your costume.

The thought of wearing another boy’s clothing made you blush, but you pushed the thought away just as fast as it entered your mind.

It was no doubt Luke was a very attractive man. You end up feeling upset sometimes that you’re not close with him because you want to spend more time with him. He’s also part of the reason you came to this party.

Flicking off the lights, you shut the door and made yourself comfortable on the couch. Ashton had brought you down pillows and covers as well.

You spent the next ten minutes scrolling on your phone before attempting to go to sleep.

———————————————————————————

Flashes of white keep you unsteady for the next half hour.

The uncomfortable couch didn’t help, the whole situation made you break out in sweats. Readjusting your position for what felt like the hundredth time that night, you ended up on your back.

Thunder roared as you jolted. You sat up, you were never going to fall asleep.

Before you could shut your eyes in effort to ease your restlessness, a door squeaked open and light dimly lit the room. Your head turned, noticing Luke standing in the doorway.

“Are you ever going to fall asleep?” He asked, tone nothing but serious.

You felt so embarrassed. You figured it wouldn’t be that obvious you were tossing and turning, but the noises of the couch creaking every time you turned didn’t help, “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

He rubbed his tired eyes, “What’s keeping you awake?”

“The storm, and I can’t seem to get comfortable.”

He walked towards you and reached to collect your pillows and sheets, “Come sleep in my room. There’s only one window and I have thick curtains.”

“No, no, I promise you it’s fine.”

“You’re not going to fall asleep out here. C’mon.”

You sighed, “Thank you.”

He smiled, “Don’t mention it.”

You walked into his room and he put your pillows and sheets on the recliner. Walking towards it, Luke’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Um, getting ready to sleep.”

“You’re taking the bed, don’t even think about arguing it’s too late for that.”

You shook your head. “Luke I already feel guilty about waking you up. Please let me take the chair.”

You heard fake snores. Wow, okay.

You chucked to yourself. “Thank you.” Getting into his unmade bed, you flicked off the lamp on the nightstand as you both said goodnight.

Yet the thunderstorm was only getting worse. You spent the next five minutes embracing the cold sheets before realizing you were too scared to sleep alone.

You felt so embarrassed. Back home, you were able to tell one of your girlfriends to sleep in the same bed- yet share a respectable distance.

Shivers went down your spine. You had to suck it up, just for one night.

Before you could let your thoughts wander any deeper, you felt the bed dip and a faint smell of cologne. “I can see you shiver every time there’s movement outside. Is this okay? Are you uncomfortable?” Luke was spooning you— he draped his hand over your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You could cry, really, and the last few hours emphasized feelings for this boy that you didn’t know were already there. You felt your entire body get hot, yet all tension left it at the same time. You eased into his touch, pushing your head further into the pillows which resulted to his in your neck. You swore there were tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, very comfortable. Thanks.” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He didn’t break his position. “We’re in a really intimate position right now, so I feel like there’s no other time to bring this up, but, I really want to get to know you better. I really like you,” the blonde chuckled.

“I do too, Luke. I would love to spend more time with you.”

You swore you were dreaming. You were all alone a few minutes ago, and now you’re sleeping in Luke’s bed— with him.

You felt his fingers move to your side, the digits playing and fidgeting with your exposed skin. He untucked his head from your neck, instead moving your hair over your shoulder and kissing along the space he created.

Heat immediately erupted all over your body. God, it’s been so long— too long— since you’ve been touched.

You melt into him, arching and breathing heavy. He sits up, leaving you both on your side, but to get easier access to your body.

Luke continues suckling on your neck, making noticeable marks no doubt. He nips at your ear, creating marks down your jaw. The blonde continues his suckling for a while, going back and licking at each of the marks before flipping you on your back.

You both can barely see each other, Luke flicks on the lamp next to his bed yet it’s still so dark you can only see his prominent features.

His face is flushed, lips parted and puffed, hair disheveled. So much like when you opened the door to ask for clothes an hour or two ago.

You’re sure you look similar— you feel heat course throughout your body and you’re incredibly needy for him and his touch.

He reaches forward after admiring you for a good while. “Can I take this off?” Tugging at your shirt.

“Yes.”

You practically cry out, you didn’t want to seem too touch deprived— but damn was this getting you.

He pulls up your shirt and admires your beauty. He looks like he’s starving and you’re the only meal in the room. “God help me,” he mumbles.

You chuckle, but it’s cut off quickly as he reaches down to start toying with your breasts. “Mm, such pretty tits all for me. Right? Just f’me?” You gasped, you weren’t expecting dirty talk this soon, but it was working. You were soaking your panties, you’re so sure the patch can be seen through his boxers.

“Mm, yes baby,” you moan. You were always loud in bed with each experience you’ve had. Most of the guys didn’t like it, so you tried to keep quiet this time.

Luke did the unexpected, bringing his mouth down to suck along your breast, keeping attention on the other as well. You closed your eyes, lost in bliss as he slightly nibbled your nipple. You cried out, glaring down at him just to see him already glaring up at you.

He switched, doing the same exact thing to the opposite breasts. It was going to be a long night and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it.

“How wet are you?” He murmurs as he glides down your body, peppering kisses until he meets the waistband of your—his—boxers.

You’re taken aback by the question, “what?”

“How wet did you get for me?” He repeated.

“Um, I want you,” you blushed.

He chuckled, “I know you do baby, but that wasn’t my question. I want you to tell me how wet you are. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, I can feel it Luke.” You want to break eye contact, but it feels impossible, the way he’s looking at you is addicting.

“Describe it to me. How does it feel?” He continues.

You moan, “I can feel it soaking my panties, Luke. It’s gushing out of me and I’m sure you’ll be able to see it through your boxers. I need it, please, I need you so bad.”

His lips part a good amount. He looks even hungrier than before, and you can tell your words tested him. The blonde wasn’t expecting you to be so— descriptive.

“Fucking christ, well let’s see then?” He sits back on his knees as you arch up for him, wanting him to see that you want him to see.

You were right, you’re absolutely soaked through and the wet patch is even bigger than you both expected. Luke sighed heavily.

“Looks like you’re right peach. Fucking drenched. You’re incredible.” You gave him innocent eyes when you looked up at him.

Boldness hit you. You wanted to say something, but debated saying it because you didn’t know if he would be into it or not. Taking a chance, you reply,

“Are you going to clean up my mess, sir?”

What were once oceanic blue orbs turned to navy, all you could sense was lust. Luke wasted no time. Ripping off his boxers and your panties in one go.

He lay flat on his stomach before diving right into your core. You slammed the palm of your hand onto your mouth, moaning right into it.

Right away, he rips your hand off your mouth and puts it into his hair. You tug at his locks. The strokes if his tongue were going back and forth between your entrance and clit. You glanced down at him and it was the biggest mistake, his glare towards you was enough to make your head fall right back to where it was on the pillow as your eyes rolled back.

He sucks your sensitive nub into his mouth, and it’s impossible to not hear the slurping. You’ve never felt pleasure like this before, in fact, you think this is the first time someones ever gone down on you. You bite your lip to surprise your moans, but it barely works.

Luke switches up, his mouth going down to push into and lap up at your core, cleaning up all the arousal that’s pooling out of you. He brings his fingers into the mix, thumbing at your clit and rubbing circles so roughly.

He continues his assault on your pussy in the most euphoric way. He sits up, his fingers still pumping inside of you.

“Baby, thinking about all the things Im going to do to you when you’re mine.. G’nna fuck this tight little pussy so good, so hard..”

You groan, “Please baby. Tell me how, tell me.”

“Mmm. Fuck you messy n’ tired. Take you from behind, slowly, and feel you up, kissin down your back. Or I’ll have you so good that you cum so much it hurts, but you still ask for more.”

He puts his mouth back on you and you cum right then and there. It’s such bliss you don’t understand how someone could ever make you feel like this. Flashes of white flash behind your eyes and you can’t tell if it’s lightning filling the room or just your aftershocks of the orgasm.

Luke is still going, lapping up your cum that leaks out of you. You’re hand that’s raked in his hair starts tugging, telling him to stop. He pulls back, coming up immediately to kiss you.

“That was incredible, thank you. I’ve never felt that before,” you compliment. He gives you a lazy smile.

You notice his erection against your leg as you sit up. “Let me take care of you?”

“Mmm, we both need sleep love. In the morning? Wake me up with it.” He smirks. Your face heats up again.

The boy pulls his shirt back over you, turning off the lamp and tucks you both into your covers.

Before you fall into a deep and comfortable sleep as Luke is rubbing your back, you think of what has just happened and smile to yourself. This event will play back in your head forever, and you can’t help but hope everything that’s happened with Luke will continue to evolve.

You hear and feel his quiet breathes, and you realize you’re not sure if you can ever sleep without him during thunderstorms again.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months

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Soup for Breakfast

Summary: Javi comes home to find that you caught the flu from your class at school, and wants to help you feel better.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: FLUFF. This is literally just pure fluff, as Javier Peña lives in my mind rent free as the biggest softie alive. Mentions of food/eating, mentions of death (but in a really wholesome way), reader being sick

Paring: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of Y/N, reader is an elementary school teacher)

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I wrote this when I had COVID because I am convinced that if you told Javi that you were sick, he would literally go to the ends of the earth to help you feel better.

“Hey hermosa, I’m home.” Javi set his keys down on the entryway table and shed his dark gray suit jacket, flopping it over the edge of the kitchen counter.

Silence.

“Hermosa?” He questioned again, concern beginning to creep in his voice.

Since you had started the school year, Javi came home every day looking forward to the image of you sitting at the kitchen table, projects and papers from your 3rd grade class spread across the oak surface. You’d smile and give him a big kiss, ready to share whatever crazy antics your class was up to that day. But when he stepped through the doorway, he noticed the usual construction paper, notebooks and crayons, but the seat where you always were was empty.

“Hey baby, it’s me!” He tried one more time, hoping that you were in a room further down the hall and hadn’t heard him. No response. The silence sent Javi into fight or flight, now picking up his speed as he looked into other rooms to find them all empty. He paced back to the living room, trying to keep his composure, his past experience with missing persons not boding well for his current state. Taking a few more deep breaths before doing anything irrational, Javi went to sit down on the couch, until he heard a small grunt underneath him.

“Please don’t sit on me.” You grumbled, nestled under a large pile of blankets.

“Hermosa, Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” Javi shot up, breathing heavily, placing his hand on his chest. You rolled over, shifting around in your blanket heap, head peeking out to look at Javi. “Baby, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Panic still lingering in his words, now realizing you were laying in a near lifeless heap on the couch.

“No, I feel great. Isn’t this what everyone does when they feel good? Roll themselves into a giant blanket pile?” Your remark oozing with sarcasm and a hoarseness in your voice. “The flu has been going around my classroom and I think I got it.” You groaned, your body aching as you shifted yourself further out of your fabric cocoon. “You’d think by this point I’d have the immune system of a steel truck, but these kids are just never ending germ factories.”

Javi quietly chuckled to himself as he knelt next to you, sweeping your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. As he got closer, he could feel the heat radiating off you, your breaths heavy and labored as you fought to keep your eyelids open. He grazed the back of his large hand against your hairline, his deep brown puppy dog eyes growing more and more concerned.

“Cariño, you look awful.”

“Way to make a girl feel good.”

“No, baby, that’s not what I meant, I-” he tried to quickly rebuttal.

“Javi, I’m just joking. I know I look like a Gremlin someone just pulled out of a garbage can.” You both quietly laughed before you let out a deep cough, only adding to the effect of your disheveled state. “I started feeling gross this afternoon while the kids were at Art and Gym, so I already made sub plans for the rest of the week, just in case.”

Javi leaned back down to kiss your head once again, knowing you really must have felt awful if you were willing to admit the fact you couldn’t fight your way through your sickness so you didn’t need to find a substitute teacher for your class. “Okay, hermosa. I think that’s a good idea.” He sat up to peek his head over the couch, starting at your kitchen. “Give me one second, okay?”

You nodded, already back to being half asleep. Javi began rummaging through the fridge and cabinets, looking for any food that you would 1- eat, and 2- help you feel better. Grimacing at the low stock of items, he began frantically scribbling down a grocery list full of supplies.

“Hey baby?” Javi had made his way back to the couch, squatting down next to you as he handed you a glass of water.

“Mhmmmmhh?” You moaned, outstretching an almost limp arm to take the glass, sitting up as you took a few sips.

“I’m gonna go to the grocery store to get some things. I promise I’ll be right back. Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“Well I wasn’t planning on going very far anytime soon, I think I’ll be alright.” You half smiled at him, handing him back the now empty glass.

“Okay. I love you.” He kissed you on the top of your head, his nose nestled in your hair before he pulled away, frantically gathering his keys and shutting the door behind him.

“Love you too.” You mumbled, half coherent as you burrowed back down into your blankets.

When Javi got to the store, he was a man on a mission. You would have thought someone had told him Pablo Escobar was inside at the rate he was moving through the aisles. Completely disregarding the list he had thrown together at the house, Javi had a shopping cart of supplies full enough to tend to the entirety of your 3rd grade class. The thought of seeing you sick and in pain absolutely wrecked him, wanting to do anything he could to help you feel better. He was so desperate, in fact, at one point while in the pharmacy section, he had thrown in a box of bandaids, just in case.

When he returned back to the house, he was relieved to find you at least sitting in a semi-upright position watching TV, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous amount of groceries he had just set down on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t know we were planning on running a hospital out of our home.” You giggled as Javi unbagged the items.

“I just wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed. I may have gone a little overboard.” He replied sheepishly as he continued to unpack a bag full of snacks.

“It’s okay, it’s sweet. Thanks Dr. Peña.”

“Of course.” He finished putting everything in its place before coming back over to you. “Here, drink this.” He passed another cup over to you.

“Wow, you even got me the red Gatorade? You hate the red kind! You really do love me.” A soft smile crept across your face as you took a small sip.

“Well I’m not the one who looks like they’re on their deathbed, Hermosa.” It took every ounce of strength in you to give him a playful shove. “I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

“You didn’t need to go all the way to the store for soup, we have soup here.” You rolled your eyes, knowing how much it physically pained Javi to watch you eat Campbell's canned soup after having a taste of one of his mom’s recipes not too long ago.

“I can already hear mi mamá yelling at me from the grave if I let you eat that shit, especially when you’re sick. I’m making you Caldo de Pollo so she doesn’t come back to haunt me. Had it every time I was sick. Swear it makes you feel better.” Your heart was warming at the idea of Javi making one of his late mother’s recipes, thankful that Javi’s dad had given you some of them from her cookbook.

“Thank you, Javi. You’re the best. I’d kiss your sweet face but I’m guessing you don’t want my germs.”

“A quick one won’t hurt anyone, doctor’s orders.” He winked before planting a soft peck on your lips.

As he got up, he went over to your entertainment center under the TV, pulling out 2 different VHS tapes. “Which one?”

“You can’t pit two Harrison Ford classics against each other! Hmmmm, I do love Indiana Jones, but I think Star Wars is gonna have to be the winner today.

“I had a feeling.” He smiled as he popped in the tape, the theme music blasting as he got to work in the kitchen.

Javi had to admit, he wasn’t a terrible chef. It wasn’t until he met you that he actually felt a need to cook. In Colombia, he was either eating out or stealing whatever leftovers Steve and Connie had, and once he came home, his dad cooked, insisting he wanted to keep his wife’s habit alive and well, even after she was gone. After Javi had chopped up all of the vegetables, he tossed them into the pot to let them simmer with the already bubbling chicken and rice. Once the soup was done, he filled a bowl practically to the brim, bringing it over to you, only to be greeted by the sweet sounds of your soft snores, muffled under the blanket draped across your face. He laughed quietly to himself before putting your soup on the end table of the couch and shuffling himself underneath your blanket mountain so your head rested against his thigh as a pillow. He stroked the ends of your hair between his fingers in one hand, the other, rubbing up and down your back in soft, gentle circles.

He let the end credits of the movie roll before turning off the TV and carefully unwrapping you from your blankets, scooping you up to carry you back to bed. As he laid you down, gently tucking you in under the covers, he heard you mumble something.

“What was that, Hermosa?” Javi’s voice just above a whisper.

“I never ate your soup.” You muttered, eyes still closed, words barely coherent.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, baby. You need to rest.” He sat on the edge of your bed next to you, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I have it for breakfast tomorrow?” You grumbled, as you turned over on your pillow.

Javi laughed to himself. “Of course hermosa. Nos vamos por la mañana con tu sopa. Espero que te sientas mejor pronto. Te amo con todo mí corazon, Osita.” (I’ll see you in the morning with your soup. I hope you feel better soon. I love you with my whole heart, little bear.)

If you would have asked Javier Peña all those years ago if he would have ever made someone soup for breakfast, he would have laughed in your face. But now? Now, he would make a million bowls of soup for breakfast, if it meant he got to spend it with you.

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popcornpieispissedoff · 9 months

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A Pile Of Canon Divergent Danganronpa Headcanons:

The students absolutely did not get along when they first enrolled, they were all legit getting on each others' nerves and every other day was a shouting match.

Byakuya doesn't mind Ultimate Impostor's presence most of the time, but there have been times when he was seriously creeped out by Impostor.

After they adopted Kotoko, Hifumi collected all his loli/shotacon and invited Kotoko to help him burn it. Seeing the damage adults did to Kotoko has him rethinking his tastes in manga altogether.

If Kiyotaka catches anyone running in the halls he will drag them to that person's starting point and make them walk back to their destination.

When Gonta inevitably found out that Hiyoko liked squishing ants, he sat her in front of the biggest anthill he could find and unloaded ant facts on her. This bored the habit right out of Hiyoko.

Everyone has accidentally locked themselves out of the school at least once.

Over time, everyone noticed that Mikan was tripping over less and less. Though she attributes it to learning balance from Sakura, she subconsciously knows it's because she doesn't need the attention anymore.

Mikan wants to cure Nagito's terminal illnesses, but fears that Nagito's luck would kill him if she does so.

Mikan cares deeply for the Warriors of Hope, and is a key player in their rehabilitation.

The virtual Jabberwock Island from Danganronpa S is still there...but the students actually built it to get away from their oppressive dickhead superiors that they hate. It has the 50 day summer camp mode for all of them, or a solo mode for anyone to set a specific amount of time within the virtual world to unwind.

[Very slowly lays hand on Masaru's head as to not trigger his trauma of being slapped] This boy can fit so many cuddles and kisses.

Jataro won't just let you hug him, the little mf will let you s q u i s h him into your body with all your love and might. As long as he can still breathe he will be happy and let you hold him.

Kirumi cracks pretty easy under stress. She doesn't lash out at everyone so much as she curls up against the nearest wall and rocks herself.

Don't ask Kirumi to reenact Jackass with you, or she will absolutely overcomplicate the assignment and seriously injure herself. She does not comprehend physical comedy, much less the line where physical comedy becomes everyone around her fearing for her life.

Ryota straight up lives in the walls along with the balding Monokuma from V3. Junko and Ultimate Impostor are the only ones who know, but neither of them have been successful at getting Ryota out of his shell.

Korekiyo has been given an intervention by all the girls at Hope's Peak. It ended with eight hours of group hugging. Korekiyo is feeling better now.

Korekiyo and Kirumi have routinely fought over the air conditioning.

Masaru will bite anyone at least once, but for reasons only known to himself, he likes biting clowns the most. He will hunt down any clown that appears in his field of vision and not stop until he gets a bite.

If Gonta finds any insect traps or insecticides, he throws them down the garbage chute.

Hajime is still Izuru, but it's an open secret. His classmates love him no matter what his identity is. <3

Reserve Course students weren't so chill about Izuru, however-they wanted Jin Kirigiri's BLOOD. And the Ultimates just kinda let them do it for treating their friend as a lab rat.

One winter when the heater broke everyone slept together in the gym until it was fixed. We're talking a pile of blankets that was three feet thick.

They legit would not trade each other for the world except for Kokichi and even then Suichi would still be sad about it

Mahiru doesn't like taking pictures of Ryoma because his weirdly large eyes reflect all the light and the result always looks terrifying.

Someone kept leaving a stuffed toy clown in random places around the school...until they adopted Masaru and he promptly bit the shit out of it.

Ibuki tried playing from the rooftop once. It took 8 hours to find her, 4 hours to coax her down, and 2 hours to soothe her afterwards.

Nanokumas like to move things around when nobody's looking.

All Ultimates are prone to getting the zoomies. It ranges from Leon running around in circles to Sakura almost leveling the school.

Reserve Course students like to observe the Ultimates because Ultimates are all stupid fucking dorks and watching them accidentally stir up chaos is great entertainment.

Hope Fragments appear when a student feels their happiest. It forms within the body and gets hacked up like a hairball.

Gonta routinely has nightmares about being caught in a venus flytrap.

Fuyuhiko has become aware of Yasuhiro's debt to his family, and holds it over his head.

Peko wonders if her parents know about her becoming an Ultimate.

Junko is trying really, really hard to feign apathy towards her classmates in the name of Despair, but no one buys it.

Mukuro and Peko like to spar together, and they're pretty evenly matched.

Miu is soft (by Miu standards) towards Chihiro.

Miu becomes very anxious and needy at the mere thought of graduating from Hope's Peak and moving away from her friends.

More to come when my brain cells wake up and remind me who these people are

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shootingmorningstar · 2 months

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Anon, I am so sorry .ᐟ I accidentally posted your request wayyyyy too early and had to delete it .ᐟ That being said, thank you so much .ᐟ My favorite part of writing is getting to see it resonate with others, so comments like these really make my day. Anyways, let me just say that I love this rq. You're right, that's such a funny scenario.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀Alastor With a Vee!Reader .ᐟ

You hadn't expected to climb the ranks at Voxtek. Really, you hadn't. You started off as nothing more than one of the many assistants Vox seems to get off by yelling at. Just another spineless sinner that would probably end up selling their soul to one of the three overlords, more than likely your boss.

That is exactly how your friendship with Alastor started out, actually. It wasn't too often you got a day off -- there isn't exactly any form of worker protection in hell -- so you were delighted to be able to take a stroll through Pentagram City. Maybe you could buy a new dress, or even stop by Rosie's Emporium .ᐣ Any hopes you'd had of a nice peaceful day were dashed, however, by your boss' face lighting up your cellphone.

Ugh, he was calling you .ᐣ Really, on your one day off .ᐣ Nevermind, of course he was. It seems you signed away your right to any peace the moment you became an employee under the VoxTek name.

Answering it with a simple ❛ how can I help you, sir .ᐣ ❜ had resulted in a frustrated yell so loud it resembled the high pitched screech two electronic devices echoed when forced near each other. He wasted no time in telling you a report you hadn't even written was absolute garbage and that you needed to come in and fix it now.

Or, at least, that's what you assume he was going to say. He'd gotten no farther than ❛ in ❜ before a shadow crept up on your phone, promptly ending the call.

Confused, you spin around to see Alastor. The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful sinners to ever be sent to Hell . . . . had ended your phone call .ᐣ

Now you were even more confused. You knew both Alastor and Vox despised each other -- that much had been made clear a little bit after the second to last extermination with your bosses power play becoming a duet.. battle .ᐣ

That much was public information but why in Hell's name would he ever interfere with a phone call .ᐣ He hated modern technology. You're spared from your confusion, though, when a staticky voice crackles to life in front of you. ❛ Why on Earth would you ever allow him to speak to you in that manner, dear .ᐣ ❜

From that day forward you began to see Alastor more and more, each time with a new piece of advice he had to offer you on dealing with such a terrible boss. It was absolutely orchestrated on Alastor's part, but either you didn't realize or just couldn't bring yourself to care. What you absolutely realize, though is that Alastor's advice is working. Each little bit of information he gives you dives a little bit deeper on how to deal with Vox -- how to actually have a backbone against his outrageous demands.

Fearing one day that you might push back just a little too hard and be met with the lethal force of an angry Overlord, Alastor gives you a tiny, what appears to be hand carved wooden radio. Your fear is warranted and he knows it -- you wouldn't be the first VoxTek employee to end as nothing more than a written off casualty. The idea is simple ; speak the demon's name into his namesake if any of the Vee's put you in danger and he would come to your aid.

The little trinket acts as a security blanket. From that day forward you tell Vox what you think of his ideas and where exactly he can shove the piles of paperwork he didn't feel like doing and rather pushed to you.

And Vox is impressed. You can't speak to him the way you do without being Velvette or Valentino. He doesn't know whether you're spunky or foolish, but he decides he doesn't care which. He also decides you're wasted as a secretary. In no time you're rising the ranks, going from secretarial supervisor, managing the entire office, all the way to Vox's personal assistant, making yourself known as VoxTek's rising star.

As his assistant, you find yourself attending meetings with the other Vee's often -- and to your surprise, they like you. Especially Velvette. Enough to demand Vox to share.

That's how you became a member of one of the most feared groups in Hell, the newest Vee, their underdog assistant. You take on responsibilities from all three of them, keeping them running smoothly.

All the while you're finding time to go out with Alastor for tea and a stroll through Cannibal Town. He usually despises physical contact, so you can't seem to understand why he wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked .ᐣ

What you hadn't seen was the sinner with their phone out, camera pointed at you and ready to snap a shot of Hell's newest Vee hanging out with their sworn enemy. The picture explodes on social media before Vox can get it under control, and before he knows it it's being reposted to Sinstagram twice for every one he deletes. He's outraged, calling you and demanding an answer. Alastor has long thought of this, though -- so as the two of you planned, he pretends to walk away, leaving the view of the cameras Vox is undoubtedly watching you on before using his magic to cut them off.

It's then you explain that you'd befriended the Radio Demon 'for the Vee's' in hopes of 'gaining intel to sabotage him and his Hotel.' It's a lie, but it appeals to Vox's sense of hatred for Alastor enough to slip by undetected. The idea of finding out his enemies secrets thrills him, actually.

Continuing your friendship has never been easier. Occasionally, you'll ask Alastor an overly intrusive question, he'll reply with a falsehood and you both try not to snicker as you try to act like you're trying to go behind his back to report the answer to Vox.

To be honest . . . Velvette and Valentino don't really seem to care half as much about Alastor as Vox does. They're very interested in the power felling him would bring them and so your fake spy mission does please them, but seeing you beside him didn't really send them into a frenzy like it does Vox. Velvette makes a comment about you trying to get him to change -- ❛ seriously, I know the cunt's all about avoiding cameras, but has he got to avoid mirrors, too .ᐣ that cane went out of style before radio .ᐟ ❜ and that's the end of it.

Alastor had intended you to serve as a tool against the Vee's from the very start, but I think he genuinely does enjoy your company. Sure, most of his motivations are self driven and semi-sociopathic at times, but he isn't incapable of making genuine bonds. His friendship with Rosie seems to be strong, and he's at the least fond of Mimzy and Niffty.

It surprises him regardless. He doesn't even have to be sneaky about his true intentions to you -- you know what he wants and gladly comply all the while enjoying his company. I imagine he enjoys having someone to dish into all of the Vee's shortcomings with, too.

The way I personally interpret this dynamic is platonic, but if it were to step into romantic territory, Alastor would need to be the one to approach it. He has little to no romantic desires or attraction, so I think any sort of confession would be a major turn-off from him. He wouldn't react well to others feelings being pushed onto him. However, if he were to bring it up, you're plenty patient enough to wait while he figures things out. You dealt with Vox's verbal abuse for years, this is lightwork in comparison.

Platonic or romantic doesn't matter, what does is the excitement you get when Alastor picks you up from work at VoxTek HQ and the amusement you share when you hear the sound of a monitor shattering from Vox's office.

If you were ever to be found out and stripped of your title, you have an ally and friend in Alastor, and that's by far the most meaningful thing to come from your work.

Hi, hi .ᐟ Another post out. I've been thinking on this rq ever since I got it and I think this is a good way to both show how evil and manipulative Alastor can be while also having fun. Alastor is a character that is so hard, at least to me, to keep in character while doing x r.eaders. I hope this sits well with any Alastor stans reading this .ᐟ

As always, let me know what you think .ᐟ Hearing back from you guys keeps me writing. Enjoy ♡ .ᐟ

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #kinda #platonic alastor x reader #aro friendly #ace friendly #aroace character #this prompt kinda escaped me sorry anon #i just can't see alastor having a friend in the vees and not using it to his advantage #i aim to stay as in character as i can #aroace alastor #hazbin alastor

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

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Do It For Me

Summary: You are a Forensic Scientist who has been put in charge of the lab for Coruscant in spite of your youth and your relative inexperience. Due to budget cuts and the fact that there's so much crime on Coruscant, you are severely overworked. Hound takes an issue with that.

Pairing: Pre-ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I was writing a Fives fic and it was turning into hot garbage, so I wrote something else instead. And I'm in a Hound mood for some reason. AND I made a new divider for this story specifically.

You are severely overworked.

You know this. You’ve known this for years. And yet no one seems all that interested in making it better.

You thought, hoped, prayed, that the creation of the Coruscant Guard was going to lessen your workload.

It didn’t. In fact, it just made you busier.

Now there are a lot more men out there investigating crimes, and sending their evidence to your lab, and the same number of techs trying to analyze the evidence.

The turnover rate at your lab is, frankly, embarrassing.

You’re the employee who’s been here the longest, and you’ve only been here for two years. The fact that you’re now in charge of the lab, at barely 24 years old, is horrifying.

But none of the people who trained you were willing to stay.

And you can’t even keep new hires around for longer than a couple of months.

In fact, you once had a recent graduate that you interviewed and hired, who took one look at her to-do stack, and resigned. She worked less than an hour. You hadn’t even had time to finish filing her paperwork before she resigned.

It was impressive.

But as impressive as it was, it didn’t help with the fact that you’re one person doing the job of five.

You haven’t seen your apartment in a week.

You haven’t had a vacation since you were hired.

You haven’t slept more than 6 hours a night in over six months.

And still, still, the work keeps piling up.

At this point, every time you close your eyes, you see blood splatter and blaster round trajectory and dead bodies. Every night for the last week, you’ve had nightmares about the morgue-

You need a break.

Desperately.

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter what you need. Because crimes keep happening, people keep dying, and the evidence keeps piling up, and there aren’t enough employees for anyone to even take a day off, let alone a vacation.

You push your fingers through your hair, pulling it out of the tail only long enough to use your fingers as a brush, and then you pull your hair into a messy knot, and focus your exhausted eyes back on the file in front of you.

30 year old Nautolan Male, found murdered in the lower level. Coroner's report indicates that he was executed, two bolts to the back of the head. Victim was a known member of the Justic-

The words start blurring on the page, and you sigh and press the palms of your hands over your eyes.

You are so kriffing tired.

There’s a sharp knock on your door, and you lift your head as someone clad in gray and white armor walks in. The locations of the colors indicate that he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard, and the colors themselves indicate that he’s an ARF Trooper.

Not for the first time, you curse the fact that the Guard doesn’t allow for more unique body armor paint.

You squint at him for a moment, waiting for your eyes to agree with you so you can focus better on the man standing in front of you. “What’s wrong, Sen’ika, can’t recognize me?”

You recognize the light tone, and familiar nickname, before you recognize the man, and you send up a silent prayer of thanks that the clones only have identical faces, and not identical personalities.

“Hound,” You even sound tired to your own ears, and as he comes closer to you, you see a concerned expression on his face, “Ah, sorry. Sergeant.” You correct hastily.

“You don’t have to use my rank, Sen’ika.” He crouches next to your desk, his sharp eyes taking in the bags under your eyes, the way your hands are trembling, and the blanket and pillow on your couch. “When was the last time you went home and slept?” He asks, his voice gentle.

“Does it look like I have time for that?” You ask as you rub your tired eyes, “I dunno, it’s been a week, I think.”

“Sen’ika,” Hound frowns at you, “This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s not like crime stops because I need to sleep,” You grouch, “And the evidence keeps piling up, and I can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months and-” You trail off, “And you have another case for me, don’t you?” Your voice becomes dull and almost lifeless.

Hound stares at you for a moment, and then he flashes a small smile. “I don’t, actually. I just wanted to come and see you.”

You squint at him, “Come and see me? Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“...I guess not?” You ask, bewildered.

“Exactly!” Hound smoothly slides something onto your desk while you watching him, bewildered, and then he takes your hands and lightly pulls you to your feet, “We’re taking a trip.”

“I can’t! I have-”

“You have a legal requirement to take an hour break every 6 hours.” Hound interrupts, “How many hours have you been working? More than 6 I’m guessing.”

“...Yeah, maybe.” You don’t fight him as he draps an arm over your shoulder and he guides you out of your office, and down the hall, and then outside, to where Grizzer is waiting.

The large massiff immediately bounces around your feet, and you duck slightly to give her a scratch. You’re a familiar person to her, likely because of how often you bump into Hound at various crime scenes.

“You never did tell me where we’re going.” You say to Hound once you straighten back up.

“Trust me.” Hound offers as he takes Grizzer’s leash and then tugs you against his side.

You’re a little confused at the way he’s being so comfortable with touching you, but you’re also not too bothered. Hound is Hound, after all. He’s always been safe.

So, as he leads you down the street, you don’t offer any complaint outside of a very weak argument that you needed your purse and your comm. And, with a laugh, Hound disagrees.

Hound doesn’t have an office, per se, but he does have his own space where he’s able to do his own paperwork, and where he can take Grizzer when she gets overwhelmed.

And apparently, where he brings overworked and underpaid civil servants who are working themselves to death.

His sen’ika is sitting on the old, worn couch he got from somewhere, her arms draped over Grizzer who is asleep on her lap. She looks exhausted. The kind of exhausted that he’s only seen on Fox before.

In a word, he’s worried.

“Sen’ika,” He coos the familiar nickname, and she lifts her gaze to look at him through hazy and exhausted eyes, and even then she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever met, “You can lay down and take a nap, I won’t judge you.”

She’s already shaking her head, “I have to get back eventually.”

“But if you get up, you’ll disturb Grizzer.” Hound points out.

She looks down at Grizzer, and she must be more tired than he thought because she just looks puzzled, like she can’t quite figure out the best way to get free. His worry increases.

“Just a short nap, sen’ika.” Hound encourages, “You’re not going to be able to finish your work with how fuzzy you are right now.”

For a moment she looks like she’s about to agree, but then she presses her lips into a thin line, “I have to get back, Hound.”

Hound leans back in his seat, his mind racing. He can’t let her go back. Not in this state. And using Grizzer as an excuse isn’t going to work anymore, he already knows.

“Alright,” He says slowly, thoughtfully.

He gets to his feet and carefully moves Grizzer, and then helps his sen’ika to her feet. Hound isn’t the least bit surprised when she stumbles into him, though he is glad that he thought ahead and removed the majority of his armor.

“...m’sorry.” She says quietly.

Hound closes his eyes for a moment and then, very gently presses his hand against the back of her neck, holding her against him. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” His voice is soft, soothing.

Her hands come up to press against his chest, and for a moment, Hound thinks she’s going to push away, worries that he pushed too hard. But, instead, she curls her fingers into the thin material of his blacks. “I’m so tired,” She whispers, and her voice cracks.

And that’s what Hound was waiting for.

His free arm wraps firmly around her, holding her tight, “You don’t have to go back to work. You need to take a break.”

He feels her tears soaking into his top and Hound turns his head to press a light kiss to the side of her head, “Someone has to do it-” She whispers, her voice thick with tears.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” Hound murmurs in reply as he slowly, and carefully, walks her back towards the couch. He readjusts her, and then sits on the couch, while holding her close. “We can reach out to the Jedi, they can help you.”

“The Senate-”

“Kriff the senate,” Hound’s voice holds no heat as he gently offers what comfort he can, “You’re working yourself to death, and I’m not going to tolerate it anymore.”

She pulls away from his shoulder and looks up at him through miserable, watery eyes, “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend. Because I care about you.” Hound brushes his fingers against her cheek, “because I love you more than anything in this galaxy. Take your pick.”

She blinks at him, and then drops her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t say anything positive, but she also doesn’t say anything negative, which is good enough for now.

It’s not fair to spring love on her when she’s so exhausted. The fact that she’s not running away is good enough for now.

“Will you stay here and take a nap?” Hound asks as he strokes her back lovingly, “For me?”

“Every time I try to sleep, I have nightmares,” She admits quietly.

“Then you can sleep on me. I’ll wake you if you look like you’re having a nightmare. I promise.” Hound offers. “What do you think?”

She sighs, soft and quiet, “I suppose I can agree to that.” His sen’ika’s eyes drift shut, and Hound carefully adjusts her so that she’s leaning against him comfortably.

Fox is going to blow a gasket, but if he words his request properly, maybe then the Guard and the Forensics unit can get Jedi oversight. That can only help with his poor Sen’ika’s problem, and it’ll keep Fox from working himself to death.

Hound glances at the woman in his lap, and his gaze softens, before he presses a light kiss to the top of her head. That’s a problem for later, for now, he has the love of his life asleep in his arms, and he’s going to just enjoy it while he can.

#star wars #tcw #arf trooper hound x reader #hound x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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bewitchedme-body-and-soul · 1 year

Text

Puppylove

Synopsis: While on his morning jog Konig finds a scared Pitbull, he spends the next few days feeding and attempting to win over his affections. What he didn't count on though was someone else trying to do the same thing.

Word count: 2,594

TW: depictions of anxiety, hints of dog abuse and dog fighting. love at first sight type beat cause Im a romantic. maybe ooc konig? hes soft and timid, disgustingly sweet and cliche

A/n:I believe König has freckles and I will be pushing this agenda. Also shout-out to @humanalien01 for helping me

When off duty Konig liked to start his day with a jog, he’d wake up before the sun rose and be back as the sun was just beginning its climb. He lived not far from a short nature trail, the perfect place for a morning jog. This morning started off as it normally did, wake up, get ready for the aforementioned jog and leave. But once he reached the end of the trail, a quaint little pier over a lake, he realized something was different, usually he was alone as it was so early in the morning. He was quickly alerted to another presence, he observed his surroundings before he noticed a low growling. Turning towards the noise he noticed a pitbull cowering underneath one of the benches. Even though the dog was growling he could tell it was out of fear more than aggression, the ears flat to the dogs head, and tail tucked. Konig quickly understood why, the dog's face and body littered with scars, one of its undocked ears having a part missing. Ever the softy Konigs heartbroke, he loved animals even if they didn’t always like him.

The dog, though not quite skin and bones was obviously underweight and probably hungry, slowly taking his hiking backpack that he always brought along with him that carried a packed full first aide kit and various other items he may need. He hoped he had something the dog could eat, he knew he had water that he could dump into the dog bowl someone had left here for owners who brought their dogs hiking with them. Though probably not the best for dogs Konig found some beef jerky he kept as a snack in the chance he was too hungry to wait till he was home again. Quickly pulling some out and breaking it into some smaller pieces than the long strips he was sure the dog would try to swallow in one bite. He leaned forward slowly before placing the pile of dehydrated beef closer to the dog yet far away enough to not risk causing the dog to feel the need to bite him in defense, he then grabbed the dog dish and poured the contents of the water bottle into it and pushed it forward before backing up and sitting on the opposite side and pretending to pay the dog no mind but keeping an eye on it in his peripherals. He waited a good twenty minutes before the dog cautiously crawled toward the pile of food and ate it, Konig was right, the dog -which he could now tell was a boy- was indeed hungry judging by the way he scarfed it down. He then moved to the water and drank half before going back to his spot underneath the bench and back to watching Konig with a weary eye. Konig waited for another fifteen minutes before he stood and left. He'd stop at a pet shop later and pick up some cans of wet food for the dog.

Konig awoke the next day and went through the motions of his usual routine, this time included an extra step though as he grabbed a can of wet food and put them in his backpack along with extra water bottles and a second dog bowl he’d picked up. He also grabbed a used plastic shopping bag he could put the garbage in once he left. Konig had made the decision last night that he'd at least make sure the dog was fed, it was up to him if he would trust Konig and if he’d let Konig help him and take him home.

Once he reached the pier again he didn't spot the dog at first but he still filled up the bowl of water and opened the can of wet food and dumped it into the second bowel before placed it next to the water, and then reclaimed his spot on the opposite side once more and waited while watching the sunrise. Sometime later he heard a twig snap and his body went rigid slowly turning his head, he relaxed upon seeing the orange and white dog making its way towards the bowl of food. He watched the dog eat and lick the bowl clean before retreating to its spot under the bench and watching Konig once again. He waited a few more minutes before gathering the garbage and leaving.

This routine carried on for a few more days, the dog would come eat and then go back to laying under the bench opposite of Konig. Eventually though the dog grew braver and came and sniffed Konigs leg he had stretched out after eating and before going back to hide. Today was different though as when Konig arrived at the spot there was an old plastic tote laying on its side with a blanket inside and the dog curled up in it, he also noticed some left over dog kibble in the bowl. Someone else must run this trail and also took pity on the poor dog, ‘good’ he thought the dog deserved this and he hoped whoever it was would take good care of the pup if it chose them over Konig. A part of him hoped that wouldn't happen though as Konig was just starting to realize how lonely he was living alone. Shaking himself of those thoughts he emptied the can of wet food and topped off the water bow, before claiming his spot once more.

By the end of the week the dog had grown more comfortable with Konigs presence. Now coming and sniffing his hands, but not comfortable enough to let Konig pet him for more than a minute or two. Konig also took notice of the chew toys now in the dogs makeshift house, whoever else that had been coming had taking care of the dog when Konig couldn't, definitely loved the dog as well.

During Konigs second week of coming, visiting and taking care of the dog, the dog brought up a ball to Konig before dropping it at his feet and laying down and nudging the ball with his nose in an obvious effort to entice Konig into playing with him. Ever the sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes Konig couldn't help but to indulge the dog and tossed the ball a few feet away, not wanting to throw with his full force in fear of throwing it too far for the dog to find. This introduced a new part of Konigs routine, after the dog ate they'd play fetch until the dog decided he'd had enough or Konig had to begrudgingly leave, Konig always felt bad on those days wanting nothing more than to spend the day there.

Another few days had passed and the dog was now licking Konigs hand and letting him pet and scratch behind his ears without problem. He’s even begun wagging his tail lightly upon seeing Konig, and it made a smile appear on Konigs face. Today was different though, for some reason Konig didn't get a great night's sleep and was not quite as energetic when playing with the dog. Something the dog absolutely picked up on, so instead of begging for his friend to continue to throw the ball he jumped up next to Konig and rested the top half of his body on Konigs lap and drifted off to sleep, Konig accidentally following soon after.

Konigs head snapped up as he awoke hearing somebody walking up the path to where he was. It was then he realized he'd fallen asleep, a quick glance at his watch showed it was almost noon. Konig wasn't the only one to notice the new person walking up, the dogs head lifted inquisitively before he jumped down and stood in front of Konig, in a defensive stance, hackles raised and growling.

“Are you okay Bear? You never growl at me any more.” Konig heard their voice before he saw them, the dog must have recognized the voice cause his defensive posture dropped and was replaced by a rapidly wagging tail. One of those tail wags that the entire body starts wiggling and he began doing what Konig could only describe as a happy dance, a grin on the dog's face and tongue hanging out the side of the dog's mouth. Konig couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the fact that the dog never got so excited to see him like the dog did with this new mystery person. It was then that Konig realized another person meant they would see him, and he wasn't prepared for that. As he was getting up the person appeared from behind the brush and Konig felt like his throat was closing from the anxiety coursing through his veins right now. The dog jumped in excitement at the new person wanting attention and head scratches. It wasn't till the dog ‘Bear’ as the new person named him got back down did they realize Konig was there. Konig braced himself for them to cower in ear just like the dog did when Konig first found him. But it never came, instead he was given a large smile, the kind where you eyes crinkle at the sides.

“Oh, hello! You must be the other person taking care of Bear, I was wondering when we’d finally meet. I’m y/n” they stuck their hand out for Konig to shake. Konig understands now why Bear got so excited upon hearing them approach, they were beautiful and Konig could tell by their demeanor and the light in their eyes that they must be kind. Konig’s sure if he had a tail it would also be wagging upon receiving attention from them, he was sure his cheeks had a dusting of pink on them.

“Konig.” he replied softly before gently shaking their hand, it was so much smaller than his. Unbeknownst to Konig though they were also enamored by him, they thought he was extremely handsome, from the way his copper colored hair shined in the sunlight, so his cheeks dusted with freckles and a soft blush. Even though his large size and the few scars that littered his face made him look frightening his eyes told a different story, they were soft and a little, they weren't quite sure what the emotion was but maybe apprehension? He reminded them of how Bear was when they found him, fearful and so used to roughness but wanting nothing more than softness. They were sure he was the most attractive man they’d laid eyes on, it didn’t help they were a sucker for an accent.

“I hope it's okay that I named him Bear, I just thought he was so sweet and cuddling once he came around, just like a teddy bear.” they grinned up at Konig, and Konig swore their smile could light up a room. They bet down to pet Bear again and the dog did its best to get in their lap and licked them as much as they could. Eventually they gave up and sat down completely, criss-crossing their legs. “You weren't fearful of him?” Konig asked before sitting down near them, but not too close still fearful that he'd scare them.

There was that bright, beaming smile was again, Konig was now convinced he could stare at that smile for hours. “I could tell he was just scared and hungry. I don't like judging a book by its cover, in my experience usually the scariest and most formidable looking people can be the sweetest, and only want someone to love give love too and be loved in return.” Konig wasn’t positive but he was pretty sure they weren't talking about the dog anymore and their words had a double meaning. He looked down as a blush formed on his cheeks, he heard them giggle, it was like music to his ears.

“Were you also hoping to take him home?” Konigs head snapped up at that, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, should he say no and just let them take the dog and never see him again, or should he be honest and risk upsetting them. He decided honesty would be the best course of action.

“I was originally but I travel for my work often, sometimes for long periods. Maybe it would be better if he went with you." He really didn't want to say goodbye to the sweet little guy but he knew leaving it for sometimes months at a time wasn't good. He could hire someone to come and take care of Bear or board him in one of those kennels, but if Bear had the chance to go live with someone who was more of a constant. Konig would feel awful, Bear was such a sweet dog he deserved the best. “Military?” Konig tilted his head in confusion before they spoke again, sensing his confusion “Your dog tags” they spoke pointing to wear the two pieces of metal hung around his neck, Konig didn't even realize they were visible, he nodded his head affirming their suspicion.

“Well what if we like, co-parent? You take Bear when you're on leave, and when you have to go I could take care of him?” it was their turn to be bashful now, a light blush coating their cheeks this time. They phrased their solution in a way that it would just be where they could both take care of Bear, which it was but they also just wanted an excuse to see Konig again. “I think I like that idea” y/n let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and grinned at the man across from them, excited at the prospect of not only getting to continue to see Bear, and now getting to see Konig as well.

“That’s wonderful!” they couldn't help the excitement bubbling out and Konig thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. He was in the same boat as them though, not only getting to continue to see and take care of Bear, but now also getting to spend time with Y/N as well. They both stood up, Konig once again towering over them. “Oh, here's my phone, that way you can save your number in there and then when you’re about to leave I can come get Bear” Konig took their phone and doing as they asked. “I also have a collar and leash if you’d like it, i kept it in my bag for when Bear decided it was time to go live in a house” they'd taken one of their backpack straps off before moving it so they could get into it and begun searching through it trying to find the collar and leash.

It was then while neither of the two humans noticed that bear got up and walked behind Y/N, before bumping them with his butt so they fell into Konigs chest. Konig was quick to wrap his arms around her so she did not fall, y/n grasping at his shirt before steadying themselves and looking up at Konig. He was even more beautiful from this angle, the sun shining behind him making him look almost godly. Konig was in the same boat, the sun shining in their eyes making them sparkle, they looked ethereal.

“Konig?” he hummed in response, “kiss me? Please?” Konig didn't waste another second before cupping their face and pressing his lips to theirs. Bear yawned behind the pair as he laid down, his work here was done.

#they have bewitched me #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig #konig cod #mw2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #call of duty x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n

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fatecantstopme · 10 days

Text

I Can't Walk Away

Pairing: Nick Amaro x plus size!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend break up, you're faced with the seemingly impossible task of putting yourself back together. Luckily for you, your very handsome coworker is more than happy to help along the way.

Warnings: Body image issues, low self-esteem, mentions of toxic/abusive relationships, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, light dom/sub vibes, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: This was entirely self-indulgent and I have no regrets.

Spanish Translations:

Querida: sweetheart/darling

Hermosa: beautiful

Mierda: shit

Por favor: please

Si: yes

All other translations will be after the sentence in brackets/italics.

You dropped onto Olivia's couch with a huff, tears still threatening to break through your stubborn facade.

"Are we gonna talk about it or do I need to have someone beat him up?" Liv asked you, a small smirk gracing her face.

"As much as I'd love to see his ass get handed to him, I think we should avoid committing any crimes," you said lightly.

Olivia sighed softly and reached over to put her arm around you. You leaned into her shoulder and began to let your guard drop. Olivia had been your best friend for over a decade now, your time working together in SVU having brought you closer than you could have imagined.

"He was an asshole, (Y/N/N)," she said softly. "You deserve better."

"You say that, but I guess I just don't believe it," you muttered.

It nearly broke her heart to hear you speak so negatively of yourself, but she knew no matter how many uplifting words she spoke, you would still refuse to believe her.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me," you whispered, tears finally beginning to fall. "Maybe I'm broken--unloveable."

"Hey," she chided. "You are so many things, (Y/N), but broken and unloveable are not among them."

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you into a proper side hug. She let you cry into her shoulder, her own heart breaking along with yours.

You knew, objectively, she was right--your now-ex was indeed an asshole. He'd never treated you well and had often put you down and made you feel terrible about yourself. Your self-esteem had been lower than usual when you met him and in the 6 months you'd been together, he'd managed to destroy whatever vestige of self-love you had left.

There wasn't a single thing about you he didn't belittle. Whether it was your physical appearance, your career, your hobbies, your dreams...he made you feel like everything you ever did was a mistake. In his estimation, you were too fat, unintelligent, boring...and your choice in career was just about the worst thing you could do.

You'd made it your mission in life to help the victims of particularly heinous crimes, which is why you'd been working at SVU for almost 12 years. You were the squad's forensic psychologist, and you loved your work. In many respects, it was the one thing that really brought joy to your life. It was your greatest passion--and the amount of time you spent at work certainly showed it.

Yet during those 6 months with him...your love for the job had begun to wane. Every time you'd stay late or have to cancel a date, he'd berate you for it--mocking your job and your inability to 'be a real person'. Now that you'd finally taken the leap and broken up with him, you were hopeful you could fall back in love with your work.

In this moment, however, all you could think about were the horrible things he'd said to you when you told him you wanted to break up. He'd been especially cruel, calling out every physical insecurity you had and making you feel like an absolute pile of human garbage. He'd called you fat, ugly, unloveable, gross...and a million other things you couldn't bear to repeat.

You weren't thin--you knew that, but you weren't gross. That was just offensive. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first ex to make comments about your weight--something you'd been struggling with for most of your adult life. The words had hit you harder than you'd expected, making you actually think he might be right...maybe you were the problem.

Olivia's voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

You just nodded, not trusting your voice to answer her properly.

She squeezed you a little tighter, her reassuring presence grounding you in ways you desperately needed. You were always thankful for her friendship, but it was moments like this where you were reminded how much she really meant to you.

**********

You'd spent most of the weekend at Olivia's and by the time Monday rolled around, you were feeling a little bit better. She always knew what to do and say to make everything okay. It was a gift you'd always envied and appreciated.

It was very typical of you to be the first person in the office, having been an early riser most of your life. So you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the precinct Monday morning and spotted Nick Amaro sitting at his desk.

"You're in early," you commented lightly in lieu of greeting.

He turned his gaze to look over at you and shot you a disarming smile. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get a head start on some paperwork I've been putting off."

"Wise man. Wouldn't want to upset the boss."

He grinned. "She's strict." His voice was teasing and warm and it made you feel something in your gut you always tried to ignore.

In truth, you were extremely attracted to Nick--it was undeniable. You had not, nor would you ever, tell him or act on it. Nick was so far out of your league it wasn't even funny. Besides, he was newly single, still fresh from his divorce.

"She can be calmed with good coffee and blueberry muffins," you said conspiratorially.

Nick chuckled. "I'm gonna have to write that down."

You offered him a smile before continuing past him to your office. You were surprised when his voice stopped you after a few steps.

"How was your weekend?"

You turned back to face him. "Friday was absolute shit," you said honestly. "But I spent Saturday and part of yesterday with Liv, so it's better now."

A look of concern crossed his face. "Everything okay?"

You feigned a smile. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you skeptically. "Is it that guy again?"

Your cheeks darkened, embarrassed Nick even knew about your ex. "We broke up."

Nick almost looked relieved. "I would say sorry, but it wouldn't be honest. I never liked the guy--he didn't treat you right."

You were surprised he paid enough attention to the things you said to know just how badly your ex had treated you. "Oh?"

Nick stood up and took a couple steps closer to you. He was still a professional distance away, but he could speak quieter so only you could hear him.

"You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You're an amazing woman, (Y/N), and a good man would never treat you the way he did. He clearly didn't recognize your worth."

His words slammed into you with surprising force. "I-um-thank you," you muttered softly.

"You can thank me by dating a man who will love you the way you deserve," he said lowly. "Como una reina." [Like a queen.]

His last three words were so quiet you weren't even sure you'd heard him properly--or if you were supposed to hear them at all. You weren't fluent in Spanish by any means, but you understood the basics...enough to know he'd said something about a queen. That is, if you heard him correctly.

You were about to ask him to elaborate when Olivia came into the squad room. She sent a warm smile your way and issued greetings to both you and Nick. Her arrival broke whatever spell Nick had been under, and he went back to his desk quietly.

You went into your office, leaving the door open behind you so you could hear the goings on and the arrival of the rest of the squad. There were plenty of things for you to do, but you couldn't get Nick's words out of your head.

**********

Olivia looked up from her computer when Nick knocked on the doorframe entering her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

He came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Uh-oh...closed door conversation? Everything okay?"

"With me, yes," he answered. "But I wanted to ask you something and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Okay..."

"It's about (Y/N)."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She mentioned she'd spent the weekend with you and she and that asshole broke up."

Olivia chuckled softly, glad to hear she wasn't the only one who hated your ex.

"I know it's not really my business, but I can tell something is really upsetting her. Hell, I've noticed a change in her since the moment they started dating--and not in a good way."

"He isn't a good person," Olivia conceded.

"Tell me about it," Nick muttered. "Anyway, I just--well, I just want to know if she's okay? I mean, really okay."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I did, but I know she wasn't being honest with me."

Olivia sighed. She had a feeling he was asking about you for a reason, but she wasn't sure it was her place to tell him the truth. She was torn between being honest with her partner and keeping her best friend's pain to herself.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but he did say some particularly cruel things about her when she broke up with him."

Nick's eyes narrowed and Olivia could see the anger flare in them. "What did he say to her?" Even his voice was laced with fury--the mere idea someone would hurt you sent him off the edge.

"I can't tell you," Olivia answered. "But if you really want to know, then I think you should talk to her. She trusts you, so she may open up to you."

Nick nodded, anger still boiling beneath the surface. "You're right--I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

Olivia shook her head. "It's alright. I know you care about her...I guess I'm just a little surprised by your anger."

He winced slightly, feeling embarrassed for his display of emotion. "I don't like the idea of some guy making her feel like shit."

"Neither do I," she said honestly. "I am curious though...what made you ask about her?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

Olivia smiled slowly. "I mean, why do you want to know badly enough to ask me?"

Nick had a feeling Olivia could see right through him--they'd been partners for a few years after all. He wasn't sure how to answer--or if he wanted to be entirely truthful. In the end, he opted for vague honesty. "I care about her."

Olivia watched his expression in silence for a long moment before responding. "So do I."

Nick could see the meaning behind her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud--don't hurt my friend. He didn't say it, but he hoped Olivia knew he would never hurt you...it would break his heart.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N). You busy?"

You looked up to see Nick standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame. You swallowed thickly as you pushed down the improper thoughts blazing through your mind at the sight.

"Uh--no. What's up?"

He stepped into the room, edging closer to your desk. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. My treat."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure of the cause of his request. "Is there some sort of celebration I'm unaware of?"

He chuckled lightly. "Other than your new-found freedom, no. I just...well, I wanted to spend a little time with you. Ya know, if you want."

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated his offer. "Well, I don't have any other plans, so why not?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Do you want time to go home first or just leave from here?"

You looked down at your outfit, suddenly feeling very frumpy and unattractive. You knew he wasn't asking you out on a date--just a friend inviting you to dinner to cheer you up. Even still, you really didn't want to go out looking like this. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"Not at all. I can pick you up from your place, if you'd like?"

"Oh, uh-yeah. Sure."

He smiled again. "Perfect. 6:30?"

You nodded. "Sounds good."

You watched him walk out of your office, mind racing as you tried to figure out his motivations and what the hell you were gonna wear.

**********

By the time 6pm rolled around, you'd managed to change your clothes somewhere in the realm of 50 times, and you still weren't entirely satisfied. Even your favorite outfit didn't feel right--you could hear your ex's voice in the back of your mind telling you everything you tried on looked bad.

You dug further into your closet, looking for something simple--cover the things you wanna hide and accentuate the things you wanna show off. Your eyes fell on a beautiful black dress you'd actually never worn. You'd purchased it on a whim because you'd loved it in the store and Olivia had insisted it was too perfect to pass up on.

You pulled the dress off the hanger and put it on, pleased it still fit properly. When you turned to look in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself--you actually felt pretty. The bodice of the dress was tight, but the lower half was flowy. The material was a soft, stretch satin, with a low neckline and flutter sleeves. The dress hit right above your knees and it practically screamed for a pair of heels.

You found your favorite black pumps, slipping them on and smiling at your reflection. You put on some jewelry to spice up the look, sprayed your favorite perfume, and double checked your hair and makeup one last time. You didn't wear much makeup on the daily, so you didn't go too wild with your makeup for the evening. You'd added some eyeliner and lipstick, but otherwise you looked natural. You'd actually been having a good hair day already, so you were pleased to see it was still behaving properly.

You'd just put the last finishing touches on the outfit when you heard the buzzer ring. You quickly went to answer it, and upon hearing Nick's voice, told him you'd be right down.

You took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs feeling both excited and trepidatious. You reminded yourself once again this was just two friends having dinner--purely platonic...but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it to be an actual date.

Nick was waiting just outside the front entrance to your apartment building, and he turned around when he heard the door open. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on his face when he saw you.

"Santa mierda," he breathed. "You look incredible." [Holy shit.]

You blushed and looked away. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

He stepped towards you and gently touched your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "You're very welcome."

He dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed fixed on your face for a long moment. "Do you like Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," you answered, silently pleased your voice sounded normal.

"Excellent." He gestured towards his car and you followed behind him. He opened the passenger door and helped you in before getting in the driver's seat.

The drive wasn't very long, and your nerves kept you quiet for most of the ride. You listened to him chatter on about nothing, simply enjoying the sound of his voice.

When you arrived at the restaurant, he once again opened your door and helped you out, but this time his hand didn't leave yours. He placed your hand through the loop he'd made with his arm and guided you to the entrance.

Once you were seated, your nerves began to ratchet up even higher. Unfortunately for you, Nick was both an extremely good detective and an annoyingly perceptive person. As such, he noticed your discomfort immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"It's just me, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

You exhaled slowly--realizing he was right. It was Nick for God's sake. He was your colleague, your friend. There was no reason to be nervous. "You're right."

He smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. He pulled it back to his side of the table as the server arrived for your drink order.

You were grateful for the glass of wine he delivered moments later, lifting it to your lips almost immediately. You knew the liquid would calm your nerves--maybe then you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me," Nick said softly as he sipped his own glass of wine.

"I was a little surprised, in all honesty."

"That I asked or that you agreed?" he teased lightly.

You smiled. "Definitely the former."

"I hate seeing you upset," he admitted. "I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little."

"Thanks, Nick. You're a good friend."

His face fell slightly, but he quickly hid it behind a soft smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Whatever he was going to ask was cut off by the arrival of the server to take your food order.

As soon as the server left the table, Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What did he say to you that hurt you so much?"

"What?"

"Your ex."

Your expression shifted and you looked down at the table. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because whatever he said hurt you--and I'm willing to bet my career that he was wrong."

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his. His expression was deadly serious, yet it somehow put you at ease in a way only Nick could. "He said some unpleasant things about my physical appearance that I could have lived without hearing."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Unpleasant things about your appearance? I'll bet my life he was wrong."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't make that bet, Nick."

"I'm confident. Tell me what he said and I'll judge for myself."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him a quick overview. "Essentially he said I'm unattractive and fat--I recall the word 'gross' being used as well."

Nick's temper flared instantly, the urge to punch that son of a bitch in the face nearly overwhelming. "He said what?"

Even if you didn't know Nick, you would have been able to see the rage simmering in his eyes, hear it in his tone. "It's not a big deal."

"If he was here, I'd launch him through a window. Bastard."

"I'm okay," you reassured him quietly.

Your soft voice grounded him, as it so often did, and he felt his anger dissipating. He was still angry, but the urge to hunt that asshole down had begun to fade.

"He was wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

"He was wrong. Not only are you one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, but your body is perfectly proportioned--deliciously soft and curvy. You're about as far from gross as a human being can be."

He spoke with such conviction, such assuredness, that you almost believed him--almost.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Nick, you've never seen me naked...your opinion would change, trust me."

Nick's eyes flared with a new kind of intensity. "I highly doubt that."

"His did," you said quietly.

"He clearly didn't know what he had."

Your eyes met his, shoulders tense, discomfort obvious in every movement you made.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me--I think you're gorgeous. Stunning. Elegante. Sin fin perfecta." [Elegant. Endlessly perfect.] He reached for your hand and you let him take it in his. "You are a prize, (Y/N). Any man worth a damn would be honored to call you his."

You didn't know what to say. His words surprised you and warmed your soul at the same time. You could also feel the familiar tightening in your gut, accompanied by an entire swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Forget every terrible thing he ever said to you, hermosa. Let me fill your mind with praise. Let me remind you of your beauty, inside and out, of your brilliance, of your kindness, your empathy...of all the little things that make you the incredible woman you are."

"Nick..." you whispered, his name the only coherent thing you were able to utter.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of your food. You'd been hungry when you sat down at the table, but your body was now flooded with a very different kind of hunger--a hunger you now believed Nick shared.

"Thank you, Nick," you said softly. "I know it's not nearly enough, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I meant every word."

You gave him a small smile. "Still..."

He returned the expression.

The two of you ate in silence for several minutes, minds clearly elsewhere. After a while, Nick noticed you'd done more moving the food around the plate than actually eating and he called you out on it.

"Eat your food, querida. You'll need your strength."

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his gaze. "For what?"

He leaned forward. "If you'll let me, I'm going to spend several hours showing you exactly how sexy I think you are."

You gulped. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grinned wolfishly. "By worshipping that amazing body of yours...over and over again, until you're screaming my name."

You suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, let alone eat. Nick, on the other hand, went right back to eating his food as if he hadn't just threatened you with an incredibly good time.

You had to force yourself to focus on your food, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

As soon as the meal was over, Nick asked for the check and paid, revealing just how desperate he was to get back to your place.

Once again, he helped you into the car, only this time his hand lingered on the small of your back.

Anticipation flooded through you as Nick drove through the streets of the city. You'd wanted him for so long--never once thinking he'd reciprocate the desire. Despite his words earlier in the evening, you still felt a shred of self-doubt...worrying he might not find you as attractive once you were naked.

"Where's that pretty head at, querida?" he asked softly, noticing your anxiety.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"If you don't want to go through with this...you know, when you see me without my clothes on...please just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't wanna do."

He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don't have to promise that because I know what I want, (Y/N)...and that's you. You could be a alien underneath those clothes and I'd still want you."

You laughed lightly. "I promise I'm not an alien."

He grinned. "Then we're gonna be just fine, baby."

You closed your eyes, silently willing yourself to believe him. You trusted him with your life--something you'd never experienced with any of your past relationships. Every fiber of your being told you Nick would never hurt you on purpose--never. You just needed to trust him--let go of your pain and give in to your desires.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Nick gave you a gentle reminder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, (Y/N)."

"I want to," you whispered.

He inhaled slowly and took a step towards you. "Say 'no' or 'stop' and I'll stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings--I won't push you."

"I don't want to say no, Nick."

He took another step towards you, effectively backing you against the wall. "If you wanna stop--"

"Nick, please just kiss me," you begged softly.

He groaned softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours. His kiss was like fire and ice--more addictive than any drug known to man. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe--like he would rather suffocate to death than stop.

He pressed his warm body against yours, wedging his knee between your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. His tongue tangled with yours, quickly asserting dominance as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands went to the buttons on his white button down, quickly undoing them in a desperate need to feel his skin. He helped you remove the shirt, followed by his undershirt, leaving his toned chest bare for you to see.

You bit your lip and stifled a soft groan as you appreciated his form.

"You can touch me, querida," he said softly. "I wanna feel your soft hands on my skin."

You did as he asked, hands gliding over his smooth, tan skin. He sighed softly and leaned into your touch, lips grazing your jaw affectionately.

Your hands traveled to his hips and you began to loosen his belt. He allowed you to unbutton his pants and he helped you remove them.

"I think you're a bit overdressed for the occasion, hermosa," he teased huskily.

You tensed slightly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

Of course, Nick felt it and instantly began to sooth your worries. "You can keep on as much as you want, querida, but I want to see you. I've wanted to touch you like this since the day I met you. But if you're more comfortable keeping your clothes on, that's alright."

You looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and honest. You took a deep breath and pushed him back slightly, giving yourself the room to pull your dress off over your head.

You dropped your dress to the ground, but your eyes didn't meet his gaze--you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see there.

"Querida, por favor," Nick whispered. "Look at me."

You looked up at him slowly, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you took in his hungry expression.

"I wanna kiss every square inch of your beautiful body, hermosa. Will you let me?"

You nodded tentatively.

"I need to hear you say it, baby," he pleaded.

"I want you Nick, please."

He groaned and pressed his body against yours again. "Say that again, querida."

"I want you," you whispered.

"Fuck--" He slammed his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth almost immediately. You melted in his arms, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath, but his hands didn't leave your body. Now that he'd touched you so intimately, he never wanted to stop.

"Come with me," he whispered, before guiding you to your bedroom. "Lay down on the bed for me, querida."

You did as he asked, noticing how his eyes never left your body.

He made sure you were looking at him before he began to lower his boxer briefs, slowly revealing his large cock. He was already painfully hard, a bead of precum lingering at the tip.

You licked your lips in anticipation, an action he noticed with pride.

"Like what you see, hermosa?"

"Very much so."

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, covering your soft body with his hard one. "May I take off your bra?"

You nodded.

"Baby..." he said in a clear warning tone.

You understood his meaning instantly, a flood of arousal going straight to your core at the order. "Yes, papi."

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised and pleased at your use of the title. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

A soft moan left your lips at the praise and he smiled to himself, pleased he was able to suss out what you liked.

His hand snaked around your back, deftly unclasping your bra with surprising ease. The moment your breasts were bared to his gaze, his mouth descended on you, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You moaned softly, fingers intertwining into his dark locks. His lips and hands massaged your breasts, giving them equal attention. True to his word, he moved tantalizingly slowly down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could, while avoiding where you needed him most.

By the time he made his way back up to your face, you were begging him to touch your pussy--pleading for some relief.

"Nick, please--I need you."

"What did you call me?" he asked harshly.

Your eyes widened lustfully. "I'm sorry, papi!"

He smiled, ghosting his fingers across your still-clothed pussy. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the feather-light touches he placed to your mound, desperate for more. "Please, papi."

"Hmm? Qué deseas?" [What do you want?]

"Please touch me," you begged.

"I am touching you, querida."

"More, papi. Please!"

He smiled. "Normally I'd take my time teasing you--making you beg for what you want...but if I'm being honest, I'm as desperate to touch you as you are to feel it, so I'll be nice to you this time."

He tugged your panties off quickly before spreading your thighs as wide as he could, revealing your dripping wet folds.

"All this for me, baby?" he growled.

"Only you, papi," you responded.

"Yeah? No one else makes you this wet?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No one else."

"Now I have one rule, hermosa. I wanna hear you--every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth. Be as loud as you want. Entiendes?" [Understand?]

"Si, papi," you whimpered.

He smirked as he lowered himself down onto the bed between your legs. His strong hands gripped your hips and he tugged you as close to his face as he could before diving into your pussy with a deep groan of pleasure.

You gasped at the sensation, the sound quickly becoming moans of enjoyment. Nick was quite skilled with his mouth--his tongue alone made you feel things you'd never before experienced.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the roots as you desperately sought your release.

Nick held you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy, ensuring he had complete control over your pleasure.

"Feels so good," you gasped. "Gonna cum, papi."

He groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He could feel how close you were by the way your thighs tried to close and your grip on his hair tightened.

Your moans became more desperate--needy, and he slid two fingers into your pussy, gently pressing into your g-spot rapidly.

You cried out, legs shaking slightly, seconds before your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. His name left your lips in a gasped scream as he worked you through your high, only stopping when you began to squirm away.

You were completely breathless when he lifted his head, mouth and chin soaked in your juices. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his hand, licking it clean as he maintained eye contact with you. "You taste so good baby...I can't get enough."

You reached for him and he obliged, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a soft sound of pleasure escaping into his mouth.

"Querida," he whispered against your lips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," you whimpered.

"Do you have protection?"

"I'm on the pill..."

"I'm clean," he assured you.

"Me too."

He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked back up at your face. "Are you sure, hermosa?"

"Si papi. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned softly before thrusting into you, sheathing himself fully inside of you in one swift movement.

You cried out, the stretch both overwhelming and extremely pleasurable all at once. You clutched his neck and he breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

"You can move," you whispered.

"Not yet, querida. I need a moment."

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern.

"Your pussy feels so damn incredible, baby...I'm just trying to control myself so I don't hurt you."

You bit your lip and lifted his face up to look at you. "I like a little bit of pain, papi." You clenched your pussy tightly for emphasis.

"Mierda," he ground out. "You sure?"

"Fuck me senseless, Nick. Por favor."

As much as he loved you calling him 'papi', hearing you say his name like that made him feral. He pulled out and thrust back in harshly, starting a fast, hard pace.

"Baby, say my name again," he begged.

"Nick," you moaned lowly.

"Fuck." He was fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do and you'd never experienced anything like it.

You felt the coil tightening in your abdomen, and for the first time in your life, you knew you were going to cum during penetration. Your moans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, your nails dug into his muscular back, and your pussy had his cock in a vice grip.

"You gonna cum for me, (Y/N)?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to voice a response. The only thing coming out of your mouth was a string of incoherent moans and pleas.

"I wanna feel you cum, baby. Cubre mi polla." [Coat my cock.]

"Nick!" you whined.

"What do you need, querida? Tell me."

"More," you whimpered.

He slipped his hand between your bodies and began to gently massage your clit. "This what you need, baby?"

"Nick!" you screamed. "Don't stop!"

"That's it, baby. That's it. I've got you. Cum for me, querida. Ven por mí." [Come for me.]

You cried out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your senses. You clung to him desperately, as if he was a life raft while you were adrift in the ocean.

He began to chase his own high as you came down, your awareness coming back to you. His thrusts were fast and rough, his breathing ragged.

"I want you to cum for me, papi. Fill me up," you begged.

"Dios mio! You feel so good, baby. Wanna cum for you."

You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could, desperate for him to enjoy this as much as you did.

"(Y/N)!" he cried out as he came, his hot seed filling you up.

His thrusts slowed and faltered before he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and satiated.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath. You were a little worried he would regret this now that it was over, but your fears were assuaged the moment he lifted his head to look at you.

His beautiful brown eyes were warm and loving as he gazed at you, happiness and contentment clear in his expression. "That was incredible," he murmured softly.

You blushed slightly. "You were incredible."

"As were you, querida."

He pressed his lips to yours as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto his side and pulled you with him, so your head rested against his chest.

"I'm thinking we take a power nap, then we go for round two," Nick said softly.

"Round two?!"

He grinned. "I did promise you I was gonna worship this sexy body of yours for hours."

"I didn't think you were serious, Nick," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh, baby, I'm always serious about worshipping you. I think you'll learn that very quickly."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You debated whether you wanted to voice the question that popped into your head, but once again, Nick beat you to it.

"You know this isn't a one time thing, right?" Nick asked gently. "I mean, unless you want it to be."

You looked up at him, expression soft and affectionate. "I was actually just going to ask you that."

He grinned. "So...you saying you might wanna see me again?"

"I see you every day, Nick," you teased.

"I mean like this, hermosa. Naked in your bed, making you scream my name, giving you as much pleasure as your pretty little body will take."

Your breath hitched in your chest, giving away just how badly you wanted that. "That too."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "If I'm lucky, you'll let me take you out more too. Dinner, dancing, walks in the park, musicals...whatever you want. Wherever you go, I want to be there too."

Your eyes widened in surprise and tears filled them. You'd never had someone speak to you the way Nick did, let alone want to be with you in the way he just described.

"Querida," he whispered as he wiped your eyes. "Don't cry."

"Tears of joy," you assured him. "I promise."

His expression warmed, filling with the love and admiration he clearly felt for you. "So you'll be mine then? Exclusively?"

Your lips parted and you smiled. "I would love that."

He smiled back. "Thank god...because whether you knew it or not, I've been yours exclusively for the past year."

"What?"

He blushed slightly. "I...well I've wanted to be with you since my marriage fell apart, but I didn't want you to think you were some kind of rebound, so I kept myself professional. It's gotten harder and harder to do and then seeing you dating someone who treated you so terribly knowing full-well I would die for you made it nearly impossible."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I went to great lengths to make sure of that," Nick said softly. "But now that I have you? Now that I know what it's like to touch you, hold you, kiss you, make love to you? Baby, I can't walk away. You're stuck with me."

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, straddling his strong body. You leaned down to kiss him softly, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with, Nick Amaro," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. He was determined to spend every minute of the rest of his life making sure you knew how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you, and how madly in love with you he would always be.

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