#that just makes me not want to read it even more
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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k
cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping.
I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered.
You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely.
When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap.
You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in.
It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them.
Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him.
You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you.
Your phone rings a moment later.
You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too.
“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“How come?” You sit up with a little start.
“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further.
“Are you okay?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.”
“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man.
“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?”
“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.”
“And you want me to fix that?”
“You always fix my neck.”
“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that.
“I have bad posture.”
“You have perfect posture.”
“No, it’s quite bad.”
He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.”
He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.”
“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.”
“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.”
“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.”
“What did I lose?”
You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.
“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.”
“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.”
“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.”
“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says.
“Or I could make us both some?”
“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”
You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected.
Cruel overpass, you think.
Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek.
The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later.
You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back.
Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—
A sudden chill.
The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard.
Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain.
You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor.
All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth.
A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.
Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath.
He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something.
Your phone rings on the counter.
“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.
You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins.
—
There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.
What will he make of my handiwork?
You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.
The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.”
“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot.
“Honey?” a voice asks.
“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays.
Honey, are you in here?
—
The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder.
Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off.
Jack squirms closer, no room left between them.
“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says.
Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead.
“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.”
Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.”
“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.”
Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile.
“I look tired,” he says.
“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it.
“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.”
Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile.
“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.”
Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.”
“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?”
Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.”
“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.”
Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea.
Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you.
“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?”
“You said I can give her a hug.”
“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.”
“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says.
Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.”
Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs.
“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”
“Yeah.”
Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room.
You’re sleeping.
Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing.
He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze.
The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown.
Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic.
“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly.
Jack stays sitting.
He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt.
You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown.
“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says.
“When can she come home?”
“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you.
“Why is she sleeping all day?”
Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.”
“Should we go?”
Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.”
“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.
“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees.
If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give.
You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap.
Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly.
“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession.
“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat.
He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face.
You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms.
“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open.
Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again.
Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk.
The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”
“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.”
A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?”
“Excuse me?”
Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need.
He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively.
Aaron lets out a breath.
“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.”
“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.
His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some.
Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone.
“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.”
“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.”
“I know.”
“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.”
“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.”
A tear rolls down your cheek.
“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.”
“Is that what you want? You want a hug?”
“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder.
You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper.
Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down.
Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying.
“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently.
“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears.
“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic.
“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow.
He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow.
Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand.
—
Is she breathing? Can she talk?
I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
It’s everywhere.
Abdominal? Chest?
I can’t tell. I can’t tell.
Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?
Yes. Yes, but–
Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions.
Honey, can you hear me?
Your name said clearly.
“Hey, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” you murmur.
“If you need a minute, that’s okay.”
You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass.
Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface.
“Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.
“Okay.”
Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you.
You close your eyes.
“What stuck out?”
“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.”
“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?”
“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.”
Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.”
“I never got that far.”
“What did you do?”
“I filled the kettle.”
“What kettle?”
You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.”
“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?”
“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.”
“When?”
“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”
“And then–”
“Then he grabbed me.”
“Yeah,” Emily says softly.
You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.”
“Like he was quick on his feet?”
“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.”
“How big did he feel?”
Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
“He said he was going to hide,” you remember.
“He said that? He said ‘hide’?
“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.”
“When was this?”
It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers.
“That was at the end,” you say.
“After he stabbed you?”
You wince. “Yes. After.”
“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.”
“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.”
“When Hotch found you?”
“No, before.”
“Before?” she asks.
You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move.
You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?
“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room.
“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.”
You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose.
“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly.
“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?”
So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much.
You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room.
You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron.
You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood.
“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees.
That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay.
He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear.
“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur.
He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread.
You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again.
“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say.
“Yes, I do.”
“Please don’t let me get hurt again.”
Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.”
You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep.
Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one. He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you.
He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water.
“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.”
You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you say.
“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Please.”
“Did Emily tell you about my interview?”
He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?”
“I don’t want to say it again.”
“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.”
You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?”
“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.”
You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread.
“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern.
“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.”
“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?”
You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop.
Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again.
It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative.
“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says.
“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world.
“…This is my fault.”
“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep.
Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.”
“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly.
“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.
“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.”
You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless.
“I love you,” he says again.
“I know.”
“No, I love you.”
He’s saying sorry.
“I love you,” you mumble back.
“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?”
Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.”
“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.”
You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound.
His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both.
You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours.
“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says.
You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek.
—
Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises.
“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters.
“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.”
The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved.
I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone.
It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them.
I won’t.
He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will.
Foyet didn’t need much more than that.
He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either.
Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid.
One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.
Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner.
Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries.
He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you
Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this.
He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again.
He rubs his brow.
“You okay?” Emily asks.
When he looks up, JJ is gone.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.”
He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says.
It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day.
He can’t fail you, too.
“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks.
Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?”
“Being in love.”
He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.”
She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”
Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks.
He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger.
It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt.
“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says.
He shakes his head.
She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.”
But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety.
“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.”
Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.”
He turns his attention back to the board without another word.
—
When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest.
Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him.
He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks.
He goes home satisfied.
“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in.
“Honey?” Aaron calls.
“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits.
Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!”
“Hi, junior g-man, what are you doing?”
“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.”
“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.
“You got him?” you ask.
He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.”
“How did you find him?”
He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.”
You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?”
“Brave.”
“I’m a coward.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.”
All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby.
Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless.
“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.”
“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.”
“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.”
“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue.
“But it keeps happening.”
His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead.
“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?”
“I remember,” he says, practically mouths.
“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–”
You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands.
“I didn’t want this for you,” he says.
“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?”
He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.”
You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.”
He looks at you in silence.
“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.”
He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?”
Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag.
You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed.
But not everything.
“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head.
He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly.
You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered.
He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Was Jack good?”
“Jack’s always good.”
“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?”
“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.”
“I can get those.”
“I know, I knew you would.”
He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek.
“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely.
“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip.
“My present?”
He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.”
In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks.
“Thank you,” you say.
Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him.
He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.”
He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch.
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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Failed | Lando Norris
WC: 900+
Lando x reader
Summery: Failing your driver license test leaves you in tears, but Lando is here to comfort you.
A.N: Could've been much longer, but I've been writing long fics a lot lately. Also, this is for me and for everyone that failed their test(but I'm a crier okay, so you bet your butt i cried when the examiner told me ill be seeing you another time)
MASTERLIST
You trudge up the steps and unlock the door to the house you share with your boyfriend while you’re in England, feeling dejected and just about holding your tears in. Why was it so important to you that you got it? You wouldn’t be using it a lot anyway, so why bother. You just wanted to pass. You hate failing, even if a lot of people fail as well, you hate it.
Opening the door, you hear your boyfriend on the phone, you close the front door a bit too hard, and you wince, you didn’t mean to slam it shut. You hear the talking stop and footsteps coming your way, Land’s head pops around the corner. He still has his phone pressed to his ear, and he’s smiling. But that smile drops once he sees your face, you’re fighting your lips as they want to stay turned down, and you want to act unbothered, but you are failing miserably.
”Max, I’ll call you later, mate.” Lando ends the call before Max F. could say anything. He walks up to you and opens his arms. Before he can even reach you, tears are already escaping your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Did something happen?”
You shake your head now, burying your face into Lando’s shoulder. Lando runs his hand up and down your back. His mind goes over everything that could’ve happened that would’ve caused you to be upset.
”Was it the test?” He asks, and you nod. He sighs and kisses your head. “It’s alright, love, you can take it again.”
”I-I don’t want to.” You mutter and Lando squeezes you harder.
“Then don’t, you don’t have to.” Lando manages to pull back enough to see your face. He gives you one of his comforting and loving smiles. He quickly kisses your forehead and takes your hands in his. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
You follow him to the sofa, he sits down and pats the spot next to him, you sit sideways so your legs are over his, and you’re slotted into his side.
“Oh, my poor baby.” Lando couldn’t help but feel bad for you. You looked so small cuddled up to him as you tried to find comfort in him. “It’s alright, love, you were just so nervous, you couldn’t sleep well anyway.”
”You knew?” You asked sniffing and looked up at him.
”Yeah, you were turning and shuffling most of the night.” You had no idea he felt you move. You thought he was sleeping.
”I’m sorry.” You mumble and your lips start to tremble again and Lando panics, he holds you close and gently sways you from right to left.
“No, no it’s okay. I keep you up a lot of the time, and I’d be playing or watching a match or something.” Lando didn’t mean to make you feel guilty, and in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be this upset about it, but your emotions were running wide right now. “y/n, you never even wanted to get a licence. Why are you suddenly wanting it, you’re so upset about something you told me was just for fun.”
”It’s because you're a driver, and I always have to get you to. drive me everywhere, or I have to Uber, and what kind of girlfriend am I if I don’t know how to drive a basic car when you drive supercars for a living.” You admit and refuse to look at him, finding a loose string on his shirt far more interesting.
”y/n, look at me.” You refuse to do that. “Please.” You sigh and look at your boyfriend. “I love driving you around, you’re my passenger princess, and we spend quality time together whenever I drive you somewhere, besides didn’t we agree to stop reading the few bad comments online.”
”I didn-“
”Don’t lie.” Lando cuts you off with a knowing look. You bite your lip and sigh. “You as a girlfriend, are letting me do something I love, but giving me the honour of driving you around, and I wouldn’t let you drive while I’m around anyways.”
”I don’t think I tell you I love you enough.” Lando’s face lights up, his eyes sparkling in a way they only do when you say the magic words.
”Well, I love you too.” Lando says before he leans down and places a few small kisses on your lips, he’s smiling too much to do more than that. “You know, I think if you don’t pressure yourself, you’ll do well if you want to give it another go.”
”Would you help me practise?” You ask, giving him puppy eyes that you didn’t need to give for him to agree.
”Of course.” You hug Lando while you’re both sitting down, and you for a while you just stay wrapped up in each other’s arms, as the last of the sadness ebbs away. “Max wanted to meet us today. Are you up for it?”
”Is P going to be there, because I don’t want to third wheel you and your boyfriend.” You asked teasing Lando, you and P have this running joke that they’re dating, and you’re just always crashing their dates.
”Haha, very funny.” Lando pinches your side, making you squirm away from him with a squeal. “Weren't you just saying you love me?”
”I was, I was, but I’m no match to Max.” You say and jump off the sofa as Lando tries to get a hold of you. He may be fast in a car, but you’re faster than him, so you run giggling through the house with him chasing after you. All thoughts of the failed test are out the window.
Maintaglist
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1#formula 1 fanfic#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando#lando norris#lando norris one shot#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#ln4 one shot#ln4#ln4 fluff#ln4 x y/n#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#ln
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reading interruptions
pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader
summary: when yn gets interrupted by quinn and his dirty mouth, while reading on the boat.
warning(s): plot with porn, smut 18+, oral fem!receiving, dirty talk, cussing. quinn has a dirty mouth in this. fluff, cute reader and quinn.
wc: 2.8k
an: hiiiii!!! new quinn ficcccc. i will never leave my quinn era. ever. recently ive been in a summer mood, first with sundresses and now with boats idk whats going on LOL. i honestly dont know where this idea came from, and for some reason i think it's bad? idk maybe ive just been looking at it too long i couldnt tell you LOL. so let me know if you guys like it or not. anyways!! i'll stop yapping now. i hope you guys enjoyyyy, like and reblog if you do! as always much love <3
happy reading <3
The morning sun comes through the window, peeking through everglow slightly illuminating the room, casting a light glow over the walls and a sleeping quinn. Quinns body lays partially over mine, our legs intertwined together. his face nuzzled into my neck, soft snores leave his mouth as he sleeps soundly against me.
There weren't many days where I'd wake up before Quinn, his schedule keeping and waking him up at the early hours of the day. Ever since the hockey season ended in a heartbreaking loss in the playoffs, he'd been sleeping more, getting the much deserved rest he’s needed. Quinn wanted away from hockey, from Vancouver, so he decided heading to the lake house earlier than usual to get away from everyone would be the fix.
Which leads us to the position we're in now, my hands moving slowly up and down his back as he still sleeps soundly against me. Quinn always looks the most peaceful when he’s sleeping, so at peace and calm.
I feel quinns body shift slightly besides me, feeling him roll away from me, my body already feeling cold without his warmth beside me. I sit up in the bed, watching Quinn stretch and yawn himself awake, rubbing his eyes like a little kid before he turns to me with a soft smile on his face.
“Good morning” he says, his voice thick with sleep.
“Good morning handsome” I smile back “sleep well?”
“Mhm” he mumbles out as he makes his way to me from across the bed, grabbing my thighs pulling me on top of him.
“Hi” i giggle from above him
“Hi baby” he grins at me, his hands finding my neck pulling me down into a sweet kiss. My hands lay flat against his chest as I melt into the kiss. After a few moments I pull away to catch my breath, and to get a better look at him. The glow of the sun now being at its brightest, covering most of the room. Highlighting Quinn's body, his golden brown locks and blue eyes shining brightly in the glow.
“You look so pretty” I say, as I bring my hands to his cheeks, running my fingers over his jaw, over every scar. Tracing and taking in everything part of him, memorizing every line like I've never seen them before. Quinn blushes at my complement, nuzzling his face into my hand, a smile breaking through on his features as he does so.
“Thank you baby” he says, bringing his head back to lay against the pillow looking back at me. “What do you want to do today?” his hands running across my bare thighs, his touch spreading warmth throughout my body.
“Could we go on the boat?” i ask
“Is that what you want to do?” he asks me again.
“Mhm, yes. I even brought a new book to read to you, just for this, " I say with a smile.
Quinn loves when i read to him, the peaceful feeling of being on the boat, the waves flowing beneath would be the perfect setting.
“Alright you've convinced me, maybe we could even have lunch on the boat too? If you're up for that?”
“That's fine with me, just want to be around you” I say before dropping my head into his neck, breathing in his scent, his arms circling around my waist pulling my body flush against his.
“Okay baby” he says into my hair
“Okay come on, let's get up. '' I said, lifting myself from him, patting his chest before swinging my legs off of him getting out of bed.
“I'm cominggggg” Quinn says from the bed, as I make my way to the bathroom, turning back around to see him lying face down in the middle of the bed, his arms and legs fanning out across the bed.
Giggles rip through my body as I look at his childlike state, shaking my head as I take another glance at him before turning around heading to the bathroom to start getting ready for my day.
Taking a quick shower, throwing on a random swimsuit, before heading down stairs to start making lunch for myself and Quinn to take on the boat.
Deciding on sandwiches and chips, with some fruit would be the best option for lunch. Just as I'm packing everything up I see Quinn coming down the stairs, in a pair of black swim trunks and a Canucks shirt.
'What did you pack for lunch?’ he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of my head, walking behind me to the fridge to grab bottles of water before turning back the counter, putting the bottles of water in the cooler.
“Sandwiches, chips and fruit, is that okay with you?” I say as I place the food into the cooler along with the water, closing the top before looking up at quinn.
“Yeah that's fine with me baby, perfect” he says leaning in for a quick kiss
“Do you have everything you need?” he says while grabbing the cooler from the counter walking towards the back door
“Yes I think so, let me go grab my bag from the couch then I'm ready” I say smiling at him, making my way to the living room grabbing my bag that has my book, sunglasses and other things in it, pulling it over my shoulder before following Quinn out the back door.
Following him down the dock towards the boat, reaching the boat, Quinn got on first placing the cooler down before turning around offering me his hand, helping me step on the boat.
Walking over, placing my things on one of the seats, turning around, taking a look at the lake, the site never fails to take my breath away. I feel Quinn's arms circle my waist, pulling my body against his.
“Where do you wanna go today?” he asks me, his chin resting on my shoulder as he looks out at the lake.
“Doesn't matter me” i say turning around wrapping my arms around his neck, “take us where the wind takes you”
“That was so corny” he laughs
“Yeah it sounded better in my head..” i say laughing along with him
“It was still cute” he says, giving a kiss to my forehead, turning around making his way to the dock, untying the boat from the dock.
“Okay ma'am we’re about to take off, all passengers please remain in your seats” he says with a smile spreading along his features.
“Yes caption” I say, saluting him, taking a seat on the boat.
Making his way to the cockpit sitting down, turning on the boat before taking off along the water, the wind blowing in my hair as we ride across the lake
The boat rocks gently to the calm waves that run through the lake, Quinn docking the boat, now at a standstill in the middle of the lake. The bright summer sun beating on our skin, the warmth casting over my body as I grab my book, before settling back in my seat. Moving a pillow to rest under my neck and part of my upper back, laying down to rest myself against it, pulling my knees up, so i can rest my book on my thighs opening it book, i begin reading,
The romance novel pulls me into an alternate reality so deep that I forget that I'm even on the boat with Quinn until his voice breaks through the silence.
“I missed it out here” he says his eyes looking around the lake taking in it like it's his first time seeing it, “i forgot how peaceful it is out here” he continues.
“ It's so peaceful out here, it's nice to see you so relaxed” I say to Quinn, looking at him above the pages of my book.
“I thought you were supposed to read to me baby?” he asks
“Come over here” I say with a smile, opening my legs so he can rest in between them. his footsteps padding across the boat, as he lays himself between my legs, his warm skin laying against mine, his arms circling around my waist as he pulls himself closer to me.
“Comfortable?” I say looking down at him, his head resting against my stomach, Quinn shaking his head up and down in response.
“Good. okay, now where was I?” my eyes searched for where I left off on my page, finding my spot again, taking a deep breath before I began reading. My eyes glance down every few minutes to see if Quinn is asleep or not, occasionally feeling his fingers trace down my sides, as I continue to read to him. Just as I'm getting to an interesting part in my chapter, I feel Quinn's body move lower against mine, not thinking anything of his movement. I continue reading.
Pausing to take a deep breath before reading the next line, I feel a warm kiss being placed right below my belly button, causing me to stop reading, lifting the book up, looking down at Quinn whose face is right in front of my covered core, his eyes locked with mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask slightly confused at his actions
“Nothing, just wanted to lay down here, keep reading for me baby”
“Okay” I say before licking my lips, picking up on the unread line.
I don't even make it through half the page before I feel Quinn pressing more kisses across my lower stomach, kissing all along the top of my bottoms. His fingers sliding under the ties on the slides pulling down slightly, rubbing his fingers along the skin under.
Clearing my throat before starting again, my brain struggling to register the words I'm reading, all of my focus on the man between my legs. My brain goes completely to mush, when I feel quinn pressed kisses against my covered core, my breath immediately hitching at the sudden touch.
“Quinn, i'm trying to read '' my eyes locking with his, a small smirk dances along his face.
“No ones stopping you from reading baby” he says, his fingers moving under the sides of my bottoms.
His hands move to pull on one of the strings that hold the left side of my bottom together, pulling it apart with one tug, repeating the same action on the other side, his eyes still locked with mine.
“Quinn '' my breath hitching, as he moved his thumbs under the now loosened fabric, peeling it back, exposing my bare cunt, the wind casting a slight breeze causing me to shutter when it hits my exposed center.
“Quinn” I say again, my voice slightly higher than the previous attempt, trying to get his attention.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing? I thought you wanted me to read to you?”
“I did, but now I want to hear that pretty mouth make some other noises,” he says, before grabbing the loosened bottoms from my body, throwing them somewhere on the boat. Grabbing the book out of my hands, closing it, throwing it in the same direction.
“Quinn, are you serious, I was reading!” I am slightly annoyed but turned on at the sudden change of Quinn's intentions.
“Shhhhhh, lay back and let me have a taste” his eyes locked with mine as he began tracing random shapes on the insides of my thighs, his hand inching closer and closer to my exposed cunt.
I couldn't help but comply with his words, his face inching closer and closer to my center, I felt his warm breath against my folds. His tongue darted out, licking a stripe down my center. My head falls back against the pillow, as he begins to lick at my folds. his hands pulling my thighs apart, gaining better access to my cunt.
His tongue finds my clit as he begins to run his tongue along the bud, my jaw falling slack as my hands grab his hair, needing something to stabilize myself with. As he continues to lap up my clit, like a popsicle on a hot summer day.
“Quinn, fuck” I moan out from above him, his movements never slowing running his tounge over every part of my cunt. The sound of him sucking up everybit of my wetness, is like music to my ears.
“Taste so good baby” he mutters against my cunt, before diving back in, his hands pulling my thighs further apart as he continues to devour my cunt.
“Quinn don't stop please” my chest rising and falling quickly as I struggle to catch my breath. My body feels like it's on fire, not just from the heat of the sun on my skin but from the feeling of Quinn’s burning touch.
His tongue continues to thrust in and out of my weeping hole, my moans growing louder and louder as I feel myself getting closer to my peak.
“Fuck look at you baby” pulling his face away from my cunt, bringing two of his fingers dragging them through my cunt, my wetness coating his fingers.
“Look at that baby” he says now looking up at me, holding the two fingers in front of him, “do you wanna taste?” he asks me
Nodding my head in a yes, Quinn brings his fingers to my mouth pushing my lips apart, shoving them into my mouth slowly. My tongue swirls around the digits, the taste of my cunt wrapping around each of my taste buds.
My eyes are locked with Quinn’s as I continue to suck on his fingers, his eyes hooded with mine, blown with lust and he looks up at me. He slowly pulls the fingers out of my mouth, a string of saliva following them. Tracing his fingers down my stomach down to my core, before running them across my cunt, my body itching around nothing from the action.
“Quinn” i whine
“What baby?” he says as continues to run his fingers along my cunt.
“Do you want my fingers? Is that what you want?”
“Yes fuck please” i whine again, my hands finding his hair again pulling it, hoping that, that will urge him along.
“So needy baby” he says laughing against my cunt, placing a kiss to my slit before pushing two fingers into my cunt.
My head dropping back instantly, my body feeling full, as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out. Broken moans are falling from my lips, my eyes closed as my body moves against his. Moving my hips to help meet his thrusts.
“Right there right there” I moaned, my legs beginning to shake as I felt myself about to come.
“Quinn” i whine out, as he attaches his mouth to my clit, rolling his tongue over it, as his fingers continue to fuck me.
“Please dont stop fuck” lifting my head to look at quinn, the sight of him inbetween my legs, mouth wrapped around my clit, as i watch his fingers thrust in and out me, takes my breath away.
Quinn's eyes looking up, locking them with mine, his movements never stilling. My hips continue to move against his, the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach continues to grow with every touch, thrust, everything setting my body a blaze.
One last curl of his fingers sends me into a frenzy, my head dropping back against the pillow, my month agape but no words are coming out. My legs shaking as I come, my hands still in Quinn's hair pulling the locks so hard that it probably hurts. My vision clouds over as my orgasm takes over my body.
I don't even realize Quinn's fingers have left my body, until I feel him pressing kisses along my neck. My eyes opened slowly, my chest still rising and falling, struggling to catch my breath and find my words.
“Are you with me, pretty girl?” Quinn says, looking down at me, pushing hair that's fallen into my face back.
“Yeah i think so” bringing my hands to his face, pulling him down into a kiss.
“Did so good for me” he says once he pulls back, “always so good to me” he says peppering kisses all over my face.
“I love you” i mumble to him
“I love you more” rubbing small circles on my sides, as he looks at me, a wide smile on his face.
“Can you go grab my book?” I ask him with a small pout on my lips
“Oh im not done with you yet” quinn says with a smirk playing his face, before flipping us over, my hips now straddling his lap.
“I think this is next to go” pulling at my top, undoing the strings in the back pulling it from my body tossing it somewhere in the boat, my top now completely bare to him.
“Now where was i?” he says licking his lips, before crashing ours together.
#nhl fanfiction#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl fic#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#qh43
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please baby | c. s. |
chris sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: chris and y/n have always had what felt like a perfect relationship. that is, until a few weeks ago. chris had been treating y/n poorly, and after one especially hurtful conversation, she is forced to make a difficult decision. when chris comes to the realization that he is about to lose it all, will he swallow his pride and do what he needs to win her back?
warnings: established relationship; smut; angst; fighting; (relatively) toxic chris; crying; unprotected sex; fluff; 18+
notes: based on this request by 🎀. i've never rlly written an angsty fic before, so let me know what u all think! also wrote this super quick so i don't think it's my best work, but still i hope u enjoy <333
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Through tears, I stared blankly at my phone. My eyes had been glued to my lit up screen for the past two minutes — unmoving, and unable to register what I was reading. Even with blurry vision, Chris’ last message to me was seared into my memory.
Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.
Just as my brimmed tears finally spilled over, so did the water I was boiling on the stove. The immediate steam and sizzling noises pulled me from my phone, and frustrated for more than one reason, I raced over to the stove and shoved the pot off of the element; leaving the boiling pasta noodles to sit in the water. Just looking at my failed attempt at dinner brought on a new level of pain, as it was a reminder of what I hoped that the night could be.
Chris, my boyfriend of almost one year, was supposed to be coming over tonight. I had been super excited, because both of our schedules had been especially busy lately and we hadn’t been able to spend much time together over the past three weeks, plus I had some good news to share with him about my work. I had wanted to make the night special, so I had decided to cook one of Chris’ favourite meals — chicken alfredo — to surprise him with once he arrived.
He was currently stuck at the warehouse for a merch meeting with Nick, Matt, and his manager, and he had told me that he would come over and spend the night once he was done there. That was a few hours ago, and I had been patiently waiting for an update from him until about thirty minutes ago, when I sent him a simple message asking if he had any idea when he would be done at the warehouse. Little did I know, that singular message would cause a massive storm to erupt.
Y/n: hey babe! just wondering if you have an idea on when you can come over?
Chris: Not rlly sure
Y/n: okay…rough estimate maybe?
Y/n: just have some things i need to get done before u get here hehe
Chris: I’ll get there when I get there.
Y/n: uh..is something wrong?
Chris: No why
Y/n: ur being kinda mean???
Chris: No I’m not
Y/n: ok
Chris: My god Y/n I don’t have time for this rn
Y/n: i just said ok
Y/n: you go ahead and go back to your meeting
Y/n: i was just asking for an update, that’s all.
Y/n: didn’t realize that was such a horrible thing.
Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.
Even though I hate to admit it, this wasn’t the first time that Chris had been an absolute asshole to me lately. Just last week, he had started a fight that ended with him hanging up the phone on me; only to call back a little while later to apologize. And then a few days before that, he had put zero effort into making time for me when I had tried to make plans for us to go to the movies. And during all of this, he has been incredibly dry over messages. It had been bothering me for a while now, because to me it was clear that he was losing interest. I knew that our relationship would be far from perfect going in to it, considering Chris had never been in a real relationship before me, but deep down I hoped that it would always be as perfect as it was at the beginning. Unfortunately for my hopes and dreams, his actions — or lack thereof — were shattering.
I wasn’t some oblivious girlfriend either; it was clear to me that Chris was going through something. I knew that for a fact, but every time I tried to get him to open up to me about it all, he shut me down with lame excuses: “Oh, I’m just tired,” or, “I’ve just been stressed lately”. I figured that he just needed time, and that eventually he would come to me and explain exactly what had been going on so that I could help him through it.
But now, after his hurtful words to me tonight, I was seriously considering my other options. I had been in far too many toxic relationships in the past, and had learned that I deserve more than what I had been accepting. I wouldn’t let myself be Chris’ punching bag anymore, and I knew right then and there that I had an incredibly painful task to do.
Allowing myself to be overtaken by my build up of tears, I slowly walked into my bedroom; turning off the lights and covering myself with my comforter. My shoulders heaved as I let the tears stream down my face; my brain accepting what I needed to do but my body rejecting it in every way possible. Through the tears, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Chris — telling him that I was tired and that he might as well not come at all tonight, but we should talk tomorrow — before curling into a ball and wallowing in my own sorrows.
I stayed in the exact same position for what felt like ages; allowing myself to get all of the emotions out now so that when I had to do what I had to do tomorrow I could do so without breaking down so hard. Eventually, my tears slowed and I felt my burning eyes begin to grow heavy. Sleep was beginning to overtake me, and as I gave into my exhaustion my mind filled with scenes of the nightmare that I was going to have to face tomorrow.
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I was startled out of my sleep by the sound of keys jangling from the direction of my front door. Disoriented, it took me a moment to be overtaken by the feeling of dread that came from hearing that noise. The only person who had a key to my apartment was Chris. Before, hearing his keys at my door filled my stomach with undeniable excitement — now, my stomach did anxious flips knowing what had to be done.
As I heard the door open and close, I rolled over so that I was facing away from my bedroom door and glued my eyes shut; pretending to still be asleep. I heard his soft footsteps on the other side of the door as he wandered through my dark apartment, before a hushed “shit!” broke the silence. After a few moments, I listened as his footsteps grew closer and closer to my bedroom door, and as I heard it slowly creak open, I braced for impact.
The room stayed silent, though I couldn’t really say that for sure since I couldn’t hear anything above the sound of my own racing heart in my ears. I did my best to stay completely still, though it felt like every part of my body was vibrating; waiting for his next move. Suddenly, I felt a shift in my mattress as his body leaned against it, and physically jumped at the feeling of his hand on my shoulder; shaking it gently.
“Y/n, wake up.” He spoke in a faux whisper, and, even though I had been pretending, I felt my body grow hot in anger that he would have the audacity to wake me from my sleep after showing up to my apartment uninvited. However, my body still not understanding that it wouldn’t belong to him much longer, I shot up from my place on the bed and searched for his eyes. The room was pitch black, but I could sense exactly where he was in front of me.
Rubbing my eyes, I searched the bed for my phone, checking the time to find that it was already nearly 2 a.m. I felt the mattress shift once again and watched his faint outline as he sat on his side of my bed. “Y/n, you left the stove on.” He was still whispering, and his sentence ended in a slight chuckle; clearly oblivious to the decision that I had made on my own just hours before.
Too heartbroken to really care about the stove, I shrugged my shoulders. “Whoops.” Was all I said to the silent room. “What happened? You fall asleep in the middle of making dinner or something?” His voice was still light-hearted, and was far from a tone that matched his previous texts to me. It made it so difficult for me to remember what I had to do.
“Turn the lamp on please.” I said simply, using every ounce of strength in my body to keep my tone monotonous. Chris stayed still for a moment, clearly thrown off by my behaviour. “Uh, okay.” He finally said as he leaned toward the bedside table closest to him and switched on the warm-toned light. After allowing my eyes time to adjust to the sudden brightness, they immediately fell on him.
Oh, my Chris.
His beautiful blue eyes were so kind and bright, his long hair was wet and messily draped across his forehead, and his matching oversized sweat set made me want nothing more than to curl into him and breathe him in. He stared at me blankly for a moment, clearly beginning to register that I was upset, before finally speaking. “I’m really sorry about earlier, baby. I had been in the meeting for hours and was getting really stressed out.” I felt the lump in my throat begin to grow. Some variation of that exact sentence had been the same excuse he had given me each and every time he had hurt me over the past few weeks, and it had lost its sincerity long ago. So, instead of giving into his cheap apology, I sat up in my bed and faced him; taking a deep breath before speaking.
“I have to tell you something. And I need you to let me say this without interrupting, or else I’m scared I won’t be able to go through with it. I’ve had to say this for a while now, and now that we are where we are I know it has to be done. So please, let me say it, okay?” His light eyes were focused intensely on me, he was clearly trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But finally, he swallowed before tentatively nodding his head. “O-okay.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my lower lip quiver as I tried to find my footing on this conversation. After taking a shaky breath, I finally found my voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Chris.” Immediately, my attempt at getting all my tears out of the way earlier proved to be a failure; because as soon as the heavy words left my mouth I broke down into sobs.
Over my crying, I heard Chris’ disbelieving voice. “What do you mean you’re done with this? With what? Me?” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, clearly being hit with the same emotions that I was. I stayed silent — my eyes screwed shut as I wrapped my arms around my torso; doing my best to comfort myself. “Y/n, please tell me what you’re talking about.” He pleaded, and I felt him scoot closer to me on the bed; placing a hesitant hand on my knee.
After catching my breath, I wiped my tears away and opened my eyes to find his frantically searching my face like an uncertain creature. “I know you’re going through something right now,” My voice was coming out nearly silent, but I continued, “And I tried so hard to be there for you, I really did Chris. But you won’t talk to me! Instead, you’ve been taking out all of your frustrations on me and treating me like absolute shit. Do you really think that’s okay?” I fought the lump in my throat as I got my words out, his shattered face no help in that department. Frantically, Chris shook his head. “No. No, it’s not okay, baby, and I’m really sorry. But please, please don’t do this.” His tone tugged at my heart strings as his desperation grew more and more transparent.
Shaking my head and closing my eyes, I shut him down. “Can you tell me why you’ve been acting the way you have?” I knew my question was pointless before I even asked it, but his silence confirmed it. Releasing an ironic chuckle, I continued. “I promised myself that I would never let another man treat me badly. I’ve put up with it far too many times, and no matter how much I love you, Chris, I can’t allow you to speak to me the way you have been lately.”
I opened my eyes and felt my heart sink at his ghostly expression, clearly on the verge of losing his shit. I brought a hand up to his cheek and stroked it for a moment, and as I did he closed his eyes and let a few tears fall. “I want you to get better, I really do. But I clearly can’t help you, so you need to do it on your own.” My own words felt like a stab in the chest, and I couldn’t help the tears as they streamed down my face. “Come to me when you’ve worked through your shit, and we can see if we can repair things. But for now, I need you to leave.”
At that, Chris’ eyes shot open in a panic and he immediately grabbed onto my leg. “No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this.” I turned my head away from him as his desperation became too much to bear. His hands traveled across my body in anguish, clearly losing all control of his emotions as the reality of our situation began to set in for him. His body slid off of the bed as he dissolved into tears against my comforter. Still having the instinct to comfort him, I scooted towards the edge of the bed, where I let my legs stretch out beside him as I ran my hands through his beautiful curls.
“Please, please baby, I swear to god I can’t do this shit without you.” He wretchedly pleaded with me, clutching my leg and trailing distressed kisses along it. I looked up at the sky, too pained by the scene that was playing out in front of me. “Chris, please, I need you to go.” I begged him, needing to put him out of his misery so that I could hurt in private. He maintained his grasp on my leg, sobbing inconsolably against it. I gave him a moment, in which he slowly began to regain control of his emotions. I watched as his sobbing grew quieter and his breathing slowed, before finally watching as he pulled himself up to his feet; the weight of our conversation evident in the way he held himself weakly.
He glanced down at me quickly, his blue eyes red and puffy, before turning away in what looked like shame. In utter silence, he turned and began walking slowly in the direction of my bedroom door. With his hand on the door knob, he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.” His words were so quiet I could have easily missed them, but the sincerity cut through my heart like a knife. That sincerity hadn’t been present in any of the other apologies he gave me, and I was gutted that it appeared too late.
And then just like that, he was gone. I felt all the air leave my chest at the realization of what I had just done, and let my body fall back against my bed as tears once again poured down my cheeks. I couldn’t help but immediately question whether or not I had done the right thing. Was I a horrible person for abandoning the man I loved when he was so clearly dealing with something? Did I allow my fears of repeating my past distort my current reality? Were the things he said to me really that bad?
I was pulled out of my tormenting thoughts by a soft voice coming from my doorway.
“My meeting today wasn’t about merch.”
That was all that he said. That was all it took for my heart to begin to beat for him again. One small hint of vulnerability. Feeling humiliated internally, I sat up on my elbows and found him hovering in the doorway. “Talk to me about it Chris.” I sounded exacerbated even to my own ears, feeling frustrated from all of the overwhelming emotions that the evening held. Tentatively, he walked over to the bed and sat beside me on the edge, arms resting on his knees. After clearing his throat, he began to explain. “The meeting today wasn’t about merch, it wasn’t really about anything to be honest.” Confused, I waited in silence for him to continue.
“A few weeks ago, Laura brought up the idea of going on another tour. A European tour.” He paused for a moment. “Nick and Matt immediately agreed and wanted to start planning everything so that we could do it this summer, but I said I didn’t want to do it.” I watched the back of his head, slightly shocked by his words since I knew that he had enjoyed the previous tours so much. “We would be overseas for a month, and I didn’t want to be so far away from you for that long. So I told them I didn’t wanna do it.” He took a deep breath. “Now, Matt and Nick are super pissed at me. They’ve both been giving me the silent treatment for weeks outside of the few times when they’ve just tore me a new one. And sure, we’ve all fought before, but never this bad. It’s been going on for so long, and I feel like I’ve lost sight of everything without having them be there for me.” His voice grew thick with emotion, and I fought the urge to cry along with him.
“Things have gotten so bad between us, that Laura forced us all to come in tonight to basically have a supervised argument. We sat there for hours, Y/n, just screaming at each other. And we got nowhere. I stood firm in what I wanted and so did they, so that’s why it went on for so long. And that’s also why I have been treating you like a complete dick lately. Because even though you had no clue what was going on, I think a part of me was kinda blaming you for all this shit. And I know that wasn’t fair, I really do. I just didn’t know how to tell you all of this because I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”
He turned to look at me, grabbing at my hand that was lying dormant in the space between us. “And I’m so, so sorry that I treated you the way I did. You didn’t deserve it. At all. But please baby, please don’t leave me. Because if you do, I will be completely lost. You are my anchor, and I need you to be there for me.” Tears rolled down my face as his voice cracked in desperation. “And I swear, baby, I won’t treat you like shit ever again. If you can’t believe me, and if you’re really truly done, I’ll understand. But please, Y/n, if there’s any part of you that believes me, please don’t leave.” He dropped his head into my lap, wrapping his arm around my waist and gripping onto my oversized t-shirt. Out of instinct, I brought my hand to his face and began stroking it softly; wiping away his tears as I did.
We stayed that way for a long time, both of us sniffling, heaving messes. I couldn’t lie, his honesty truly impacted me. I knew that he had to have gone against every single one of his instincts to finally tell me what had been going on in his life, and the fact that he did meant so much to me. I knew that Chris was extremely reliant on his brothers being a constant in his life, and couldn’t even imagine how lost he must feel knowing that they’re against him. His problem was much more severe than I thought it would have been prior to him opening up, and I felt an overwhelming amount of empathy for him. I knew that his poor treatment of me — as wrong as it was — had been completely out of character, and as I sat there stroking his soft cheek, I decided that I would believe him.
“Come up here.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Immediately, Chris lifted his head off of my thighs and sat up, his face inches from mine. Without a moment of hesitation, I leaned forward and engulfed his lips with my own. He immediately reciprocated, and both of our tongues worked in unison to lap up the salty taste of each other’s tears. Chris leaned forward, encouraging me to fall back against my pillows as he continued his passionate assault on my lips. His mouth travelled down my neck, where I shuddered as I felt him place sucks and nibbles sure to leave a trail of purple bruises. His body was warm on top of mine, and I had never before felt so present with him; so aware of his every movement.
He moved down my body, stopping briefly at my chest to remove my shirt, before continuing down below my waist. With his tongue, he created a path from just below my belly button to my right hip bone, where he left another purple bruise; causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. Lifting my hips, he wasted no time in pulling my boy shorts off of my body and leaving me completely bare. He continued to leave gentle kisses along each square inch of my body surrounding my core, but making sure to leave the place where I needed his mouth the most completely untouched.
I began to grow impatient, my body temperature increasing as my body filled with arousal. As he placed a kiss on my inner thigh, I bucked my hips up in frustration; practically begging for contact. Noticing my agitation, Chris almost immediately obliged, and I gasped out in pleasure as his tongue began working its magic against my clit. With each hand holding up my thighs, Chris swirled his tongue relentlessly against my bundle of nerves. I struggled to keep my body still as his movements continued, and failed miserably once he inserted two of his fingers into my core. “Fuck Chris, t-that’s so good.” I moaned out as his tongue and fingers worked my cunt in harmony. The wet sounds of my arousal grew louder and louder as I began to approach my orgasm, and in reflex my hands tangled in his hair; doing everything I could to keep him exactly where I needed him.
“Gonna cum, baby.” I cried out, and his encouraging hum against my clit was enough to get me there. My back arched off of the bed as my body began to convulse. To keep me in place, Chris took his free hand and placed it firmly on my lower stomach; causing me to scream out in pleasure. His mouth and fingers continued to push me through my orgasm, and didn’t stop even after my nerves became over sensitive. “C-Chris please. Can’t take anymore.” I struggled to get out the words, but he listened. Detaching his mouth from my core, he dragged his body back up my own and came face to face with me.
With the glean of my arousal still on his lips, he kissed me so deep I felt my lungs inflate. I could taste myself on his tongue, and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head from the intensity of the moment. I broke the kiss for only a moment to pull his hoodie over his head; relishing in the feeling of his bare chest against my own. Through his sweatpants, I could feel his bulging member press against my pelvis, and I reached in between our bodies and pulled his waistband down along with his boxers. Now completely free, his cock dribbled pre-cum down my stomach. With my hand still between us, I collected what was left of his fluid along his slit before slowly stroking my hand up and down his swollen shaft.
His breath hitched as I continued my movements, and he thoughtlessly bucked his hips into my hand to increase the friction along his trembling member. My hand twisted around his dick for a few more pumps, before I slowly guided it down toward my entrance. Once Chris felt the heat of my core at the tip of his cock, he looked down at me with darkened eyes — still slightly puffy from his previous tears — and dropped his jaw as he began to slide into me.
I gasped at the feeling of my walls stretching around his sizeable girth, and released a breathy moan as he bottomed out. Laying on top of me, he grabbed both sides of my face in between his hands and held it firmly as he began thrusting into me. His eyes never left mine as his hips rolled into me, and I watched in ecstasy at the pleasure visible on his face — as I’m sure he was doing to me. Our bodies smacked together in a steady rhythm and the wet sounds filled the room, adding an additional sensation to my arousal.
“I-I’m so sorry, baby.” Grunted Chris through deep thrusts. “It’s — oh fuck — it’s okay Chris.” I replied as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Just please — please tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded desperate and choppy, most likely caused by a combination of arousal and real distress. His choice of words and the tone at which he said them caused my stomach to do a flip, and I felt my second orgasm approach. Fighting the urge to give into the overwhelming feeling, I reached up and swiped his glistening lip with my thumb. “I’m yours baby, always.” I managed to respond through my cries of pleasure. Chris smiled down at me lazily before burying his face in my neck; leaving sloppy, breathy kisses along its thin skin.
My walls began to pulse and my skin started to feel like it was being lit on fire; both clear signs that I was extremely overstimulated as I was approaching my orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum again.” I blurted out just as I was hit with a tsunami of an orgasm. My legs tightened around his waist and my nails dug into his arms as I fought to keep my head above water, but my mind grew fuzzy as I spewed guttural profanities into the room as I came in waves.
It didn’t take long for Chris’ orgasm to follow, and that was made clear by his throaty grunts and sloppy pace before he stopped entirely; shouting breathless 'I love yous' into my neck as his cock shot its warm fluid deep inside of me. He eventually pulled out, before curling two fingers into me and shoving all of our conjoined juices up to my cervix. His eyes stayed glued to my cunt as he did so, seemingly in awe of the view.
“You’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He said it so quiet that he might have just been saying it to himself, before he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the crest of my heat; earning a full-body flinch from me.
He came back up to the top of the bed where he laid down beside me, pulling me towards his chest and running a hand up and down my naked back. I felt so secure in his arms — his familiar smell filling my nostrils and calming my mind — that I nearly forgot everything that had happened prior to the past 15 minutes or so. That is, until he spoke.
“So, are we okay?” His voice was tentative, and he was very clearly afraid to hear my answer. I uncurled myself from his body so that I could look up at his lovely face, his desperate eyes scanning my poker face for any sort of hint.
“You will never, ever, speak to me like that again, no matter what.” I kept my voice firm, even when his face immediately relaxed into a grin. “I swear, I won’t baby.” He responded, trying to tuck me back into his chest, but I pushed back slightly. “And, I need you to talk to me about shit you’re going through, Chris. I’m your girlfriend. That’s my job. You need to promise me, you will come to me about anything, and I will do everything I can to help you through it.” He continued to gaze at me, though his wavering eyes and his chewing on his lower lip made it clear that the idea made him anxious. “Promise me, Chris.” I repeated, making it clear how serious I was.
Finally, Chris nodded his head. “I promise, baby. I’ll tell you everything.” I smiled, then, finally feeling secure in our relationship for the first time in weeks. “Then yes, we’re okay.” I responded before planting a soft kiss to his pink lips. “And you and your brothers are going to be okay, too.” His worried expression deepened at the reminder of his conflict with Nick and Matt. “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow once we get some rest, but we can make the tour work. You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Europe.” I watched as his lips began to turn up into a soft smile. “Plus,” I leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind being your groupie.”
He dissolved into giggles at that. “But what about your job?” He asked tentatively. I shrugged. “I actually got promoted today. I was gonna tell you earlier, but y’know.” His face fell momentarily. “I got a raise, but more importantly I got more benefits. Including thirty vacation days.” His face lit up once again, and it was almost like I could see the weight lift off of his shoulders before he attacked my face with kisses. “So let’s have another meeting with Laura and your brothers tomorrow and work this all out. I can come, and we can fix this easily together.” Tears welled in his eyes, and he nodded his head before kissing me hard. “I love you, Y/n.”
I curled myself back into his chest and sighed, taking in the feeling of him mindlessly drawing random shapes on my back. This was the Chris that I knew and loved, and I knew that this is who he really was. He wasn’t perfect, but I never expected him to be. Problems come with every relationship, and of course there was never any guarantee, but I had a feeling that this night would vastly change our relationship for the better.
ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fluff
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Hi, I love your writing! I was wondering if you could write a fic where Rooney and Russo are recording there new podcast and they mention a funny story to do with you. With Alessia x reader pairing. You can make the story up but I thought it would be funny
THIRD WHEEL — alessia russo
sorry to whoever requested this as it’s took me so long to actually finish it, but it’s finally here!
navigation
"hello! and welcome back to the tooney and russo show with me y/n l/n, and before you all ask don't worry i'm not stealing vic's job she's just poorly" you said down the microphone, getting yourself comfy in the big chair opposite the couch that alessia and ella were sat on.
"thank god we only have to put up with you for one episode!" ella says rolling her eyes playfully as you gasp, the two bursting into laughter.
"hey!"
"anyways i'm here with two of football most famous friends, alessia russo and ella toone!" you cheered as the two opposite you clapped as well as the people behind the cameras.
"are we the most famous friends?" ella turns asking alessia who shrugs, you clearing your throat to get the brunettes attention back.
"they've just written that on the script to boost your ego" you smile quickly before looking back down to the ipad as the ella starts laughing as does less.
“i’m not lying it’s on here!” you hold the ipad up in there direction showing them, “you really know how to make someone feel good about themselves don’t you, y/n!” ella jokes as you nod you head.
“it’s my speciality — ask lessi i do it on the daily for her!” you say winking jokingly towards less who shakes her head at your silliness.
“whatever helps you sleep at night love” alessia sighs, not wanting to disagree with you knowing the ramble you would go into.
"anyways before we get sidetracked anymore, the fans want to know a bit more about your routine when playing, asking if you find it hard to sleep before a big game?" you read out the question that was on the ipad in front of you.
"speaking on behalf of all three of us here, but we all sleep like babies!" ella says as you and alessia nod in agreement humming.
"yeah what's the saying, can sleep on a camels back" alessia blurts out making you make a confused face, as you mouthed a what to ella who shook her head also having no idea what the blonde had just said.
"that's not a saying babe, you've just made that up!"
"i have not, search it up!” the blonde defended her self as you still looked at her with a confused face trying to understand what she meant from her try at an inspirational message.
“um yeah moving on.. i sleep good all the time to be fair. but do either of you remember the night before the euro final?” you asked them both, ella nodding while less say shaking her head.
“oh yeah, i remember that night. do you not?” ella agreeing with you as she directed the last part of her sentence the blonde sat next to her, who shook her head while mumbling a no into the mic in front of her.
“so obviously we was staying in this really nice hotel, the tottenham hot spur hotel it was i think, and everyone was asleep and um in the night the automatic blinds kept coming up” ella explained as you nodded along.
“i never even noticed to be honest, but i remember you complaining about it in the morning” alessia pointed over to you.
“yeah and i only noticed them because you’d took all the blankets from me and i’d woke up freezing, and then-“ you began as the blonde across you cut you off with a gasp as her mouth went wide open.
“you say this all the time, but i don’t hog the covers!” the blonde said in a defensive tone, ella watching with a smirk on her face at the bickering between the two of you an occasional giggle coming from her.
“how would you know if you do or don’t? your asleep less?” ella commented as you hummed your eyes going wide, “exactly!”
“and then the stupid blinds kept me awake and then less had her alarm set for dead early and she didn’t even wake up — honestly worst night sleep i’ve ever had.” you grumbled carrying on with your small story as alessia mumbled into her mic about you being overly dramatic.
“oh i hate alarms me, i’m the type who had to wake straight up as soon as it goes off” ella says as you hum, “cause once you start snoozing, it’s game over”
“lessi is the worst for snoozing”
the podcast carry’s one as you talk along with the two girls, about random things that start a different conversation until you get up to the fan questions section of the pod.
“so we are up to when you guys at home get to know ella and lessi more off the pitch as they answer your questions where nothing is off limits, i’m excited for this bit” you smile down the camera before smirking to the two girls as they look at each other scared. you continuing to scroll through the ipad.
“first one is weirdest thing your both scared of?” you say giggling to yourself knowing what both of their answers are going to be.
“probably bananas” ella says pulling a face of disgust as you ask why. “i dunno, i just really don’t like them.
“um turkeys or just birds in general” alessia shrugs as your mind takes you back to the world cup of when there was loads of them there.
“there definitely both weird, the next one is directly for you lessi — this fan has said: alessia your half italian but can you actually speak it” you say reading the comment word for word off the ipad, looking up to see the blondes blank face as you begin to laugh along with ella.
“well i can understand it, i tried to learn how to speak it and i can speak a few words..” less trails off her words getting quieter and quieter with each one she spoke.
you raised your eyebrows humming in amusement, “yep and by tried you mean one duolingo lesson?”
“pretty hard to try and learn it when you have someone distracting you every five seconds wanting attention!” alessia argued, taking a sip of her water which was next to her.
“sorry for showing and giving my girlfriend some love?” you scoffed jokingly as you placed your hands in the air in defence. “next time i won’t bother” you added sassily.
the blonde pouting, mumbling along the lines of that you know that she loves giving you her attention you humming at her response, the blonde holding her hands up in an attempt at a heart with her fingers getting a small smile from you.
as ella dry retched down the mic, “do you have to do the lovey dovey stuff every where we go!”
“okay this is a good one, who’s the better driver” you ask, putting the ipad to the other side.
“well i think we can both agree who it’s not-“ alessia smirked pointed between her and ella who nodded in agreement knowing what the blonde was going to say.
“who?”
“you- do you not…” alessia began before you cut her off, “hang on the question wasn’t to include me, and i know the story your gonna tell and it’s gonna be completely wrong but carry on” you sulked, sinking further in the chair you were sat in opposite the two best friends.
“no so you were in a really tight parking spot, which can i add i told you not to park in-“ alessia began to tell the story in between laughs as tooney listened intently, you sat across from them with a frown on your face.
“—and there was this bollard to the right of the car and i told you that you were gonna hit it if you carried on but you were adamant you weren’t gonna hit it. and of course who was right cause then the back of your car ended up with a massive dent in the back along with scratches along the side”
“yeah but in my defense right, since i did move slightly the way you told me to and if i hadn’t i definitely would have missed it” you defended yourself as alessia rose her eyebrows not totally convinced.
“is this the day you came to england camp sulking?” ella asked as alessia nodded her head slowly in response for you, you not wanting to admit it.
“and now i’m banned from driving lessi’s car-“ your frown deepened.
“i mean i’m not surprised!”
“and that’s all we have time for today, before i get outed anymore!” you perked up once again, the two girls straightening themselves up as you looked down the central camera.
“like you haven’t been outing us for the whole ep love” alessia commented as you waved your hand at what she said.
“thanks for joining me, less and tooney as i third wheeled-“ you began again but got cut off by ella. “no i was, as always!”
“bye!”
#alessia russo#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo x y/n#woso community#woso#woso blurbs#woso imagine#woso x reader#arsenal women#awfc#arsenal wfc#awfc imagine#awfc x reader#lionesses#ella toone#england wnt#england women#enwoso
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Hiiii I love your lestappen stories, they are so good!!🥰🥰 I was wondering if you could write one where the reader is studying really hard for her final exams (she's so so stressed about it) and her boys help her relax a little 💗💗
gwen’s message. this is so me because i’m studying reaaaally hard for some exams i have to take next week and i just want lestappen to give me kisses and massages. 🥺
“Baby, you should take a break.” Charles says as he leans against the door.
You take your glasses off and rub the sleep from your eyes. “I can’t. I have all these papers to read and a lot of classes to catch up on.”
Max, who has been keeping you company since you started studying early this morning, scrolling through his phone, looks at you. “You can take at least fifteen minutes, it’ll do you good.”
“Max is right,” Charles walks into the room, stopping right behind you. “You need breaks between all the studying, or you’re going to fry your brains.”
You know they are right, but you also know that you need a good grade to pass the exams or you’re going to have to take them again; and you don’t want that.
“Just fifteen minutes.” You sigh, resting the back of your head against Charles’ chest.
His hands immediately find your shoulders and starts massaging all the stress off your body.
“Now, come here,” Max opens his arms, while getting comfortable against the pillows, and you don’t even need to think about it to climb on the bed. “Just lie down and relax.” He says as he makes way for you to lie down between his legs, your back to his chest.
“I’m gonna grab some oil and I’ll be right back.”
You barely have time to process your boyfriend’s words because your brain shuts off the moment you feel Max’s lips on yours. It’s barely a kiss, definitely not enough, and it leaves you wanting for more.
Max laughs when you chase after his lips and he just places a little peck on your cheek, making you groan.
Charles sits at the foot of the bed and gets rid of your socks. “You should try to sleep.” He whispers as his oily hands start giving you the best foot massage of your life.
You close your eyes, feeling one pair of hands on your temples and the other rubbing your feet and legs. It’s relaxing and definitely what you needed.
You wouldn’t have taken a break if it weren’t for your favorite boys. Always making sure you’re taking care of yourself. And taking care of you.
“Could — ” You swallow, feeling all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks because you’re about to admit something you swore you wouldn’t in front of them. “Could you talk about racing, please? I know it’s weird but it relaxes me.”
They’re silent for far too long. But then, just as you’re about to apologise and run away, you hear them giggling; your favorite sound in the world.
“It’s not weird at all, schatje.” Max kisses the top of your head and you feel a little silly for ever thinking that they would make fun of you.
You can hear Charles’ smirk when he speaks, “You want us to talk about something specific?”
You think for a second.
“About Austria 2022.”
#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#lestappen x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc fluff#max verstappen fluff#f1 fanfic#lestappen x you#f1 x reader
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Hiiii!
I saw your post about requesting for Joost, and idk if this is good but I'll try my best!(first time requesting something btw)
So, we all looooove some good jealousy prompts right?(or am I just weird?)
I saw some about reader being jealous and blah blah blah but how about a jealous Joost?
He isn't the type to be easily jealous he really isn't! He trusts you with his life! But... what if HE isn't enough?
He's on tour, away from you for months. He hates it but he loves it at the same time, on one side: his work is being seen, he's getting money, he's visiting other countries. But on other side... you're away from each other and it kills him.
So, one night, he just got back from a show, he showered on the hotel bathroom, he's drying his hair with a towel while he sees random stuff on insta, he sits on the fresh hotel bed when he sees one new story from you.
You're smiling and there's a friend of yours, smiling too, with a caption:"thanks for the amazing night (friend nickname) you're the best! ❤️"
And the two of you are at you favorite restaurant.
You did mentioned to joost that you were feeling lonely without him, that work was killing you and you wanted to go out... he is happy for you, of course, but... he just wishes it was HIM next to you on the photo, it was HIM that took you out. HIM that you were sending heart emojis to.
(Maybe reader and joost are dating or maybe you could do a friends to lovers on this one)
So, as soon as he's back, he's knocking on your apartment door.
He doesn't even waits, as soon as you open the door, he hugs you, he's all over you.
"Joost?! You're back already?? Oh I missed you too!"
You hug him back.
Joost lives this. This peace. This warmth. This love, his heart bursting with adoration, he wants to prove to you that he's the best, that no friend could ever replace him!
Sorry if this is not good! Anyway, thanks for even reading this!
a/n: omg thank you so much for this prompt anon! i looove a good detailed prompt, i think i stuck mainly to your request, i really only changed some dialogue to fit the story! side note... i had a lot of trouble formatting this for some reason, so hopefully this posts ok. tumbr is giving me grief lmao
Irreplaceable | Joost Klein
content: gn! reader, Joost wins Eurovision (as he should), drinking, a singular dirty joke, allusion to smut if you squint, and hickies. alternating POVS, some dutch, mostly pet names (schat, lieverd, liefje), and small phrases (ik hou van jou= i love you, het spijt me= i'm sorry)
word count: 3,630
Your fingers sweep across the glowing keyboard of your phone. The intense bright white of the display in contrast with the dark of the restaurant that surrounds you makes you lower your eyes into a squint, the letters blurring before you.
Much needed night with my girl <3
You reposition the text to fit with the picture, a half-tipsy selfie you had taken just moments prior with your best friend, Anna. Your finger hovers over the "your story" button on the bottom left corner of your screen. You do one last scan of the photo, looking at the wide grins of you and your friend, you couldn't remember the last time you had seen yourself so happy.
You tap the button, deciding the photo is worthy to be seen by your whopping 400 Instagram followers.
"Did I look hot in that?" Anna's voice pulls you away from your phone, you place it face down against the white tablecloth in front of you. She's raising an eyebrow at you as her red lipstick coated lips curl into a smirk. She swirls a nearly empty glass of red wine in her hand.
"Of course," You grin, "When do you not?"
"Good point." She winks before raising the glass to her lips, finishing what was left in a single swig.
You'd been more than grateful for Anna taking you out tonight. Truth be told, the last few weeks had been bleak. They consisted mostly of you sitting at your kitchen counter, hunched over your computer doing work. Who knew working from home could be so stressful. You'd been completely swamped ever since a co-worker who had shared your position switched companies. Now you were stuck doing double the work for the same pay.
But maybe even worse than the stress of work was the loneliness of it. Taking a remote job had seemed ideal when you accepted the position, however, now you realized it was just like working any other office job without any of the human connection or interaction.
Your life hadn't always been this lonely, but you guessed that was the price you paid for living the city life, coupled with dating a musician.
Joost had been doing music since you met him a year and a half ago, and in that short amount of time, you never would have expected how huge he would have gotten. A summer hit in Germany and a fucking Eurovision win catapulted him into success.
Of course, you were more than proud of him, in fact, words couldn't even describe how happy you were for him. He deserved each and every fan, and each and every stream.
But being a musician meant being busy, and in particular, being on tour for weeks to months at a time.
Truth be told, during these last five weeks, Joost was on tour you had been living vicariously through videos posted online of his performances, desperately wishing you were in the crowd getting to watch him do what he loved every night. You would scroll intently in the isolating darkness of your apartment, at this point you had to have seen every angle of every single performance he'd done on tour thus far. It at least helped you feel a little less alone, watching how he smiled on stage, adoring the crowd, similar to the ways he had adored you.
You'd barely left the house since Joost had started touring, but you owed everything to Anna for forcing you out tonight. You were actually enjoying yourself.
A shadow looms over you, forcing you out of your thoughts. Your head whips to the side, and your waiter is standing over you
"Whenever you're ready." He places the black leather book in the middle of the table and nods as his lips press into a tight smile before walking away.
"Dinner's on me," Anna smiles slyly, her hand darting out and swiping the check from where it lay on the table. You can't say you're shocked by her offer, she had always been generous, but your heart is warmed by her kindness.
"Oh you don't have t-"
"Yes I do," She cuts you off. "This is your night out. Remember?"
"Thank you," You grin.
"Don't mention it," she opens the book, glancing down at the check, "Oh," She looks up at you, "Zoë asked if we want to meet her, Noor, and Hanna for drinks after this. They're at that bar a few blocks away. And seeing as I drank most of this bottle of wine, I reckon you need a few more drinks in you"
Your head bobs up and down, nodding, "More drinks sounds just about perfect right now."
Moments later the waiter is coming by again, taking the check off the table.
You look down at your phone on the table, flipping it over. The screen shines bright, revealing two notifications.
Joostklein liked your story
Joostklein replied to your story: have fun, liefje <3
A smile creeps onto your face and your chest swells with a warmth that both comforts you and stings at the same time. What you would give to have him here right now. Your thumb grazes over the screen, tapping the message to respond.
"C'mon y/n" Your head flings up at the sound of Anna's voice, "I got my card back, we should get going."
You nod, standing up from your seat, slipping your still open phone into the pocket of your jacket.
Joost lay on the stiff linens of a hotel bed. The lingering scent of his shampoo filled his nose as he took a deep breath, turning over his phone to check his notifications once again. Nothing.
It had been three hours and fifteen minutes since he noticed that you saw his response to your Instagram story, three hours and fifteen minutes since you saw his response and didn't respond.
He flips his phone back down, turning to his side, the pillow is damp against his face from his freshly washed hair. He closed his eyes and thought about that picture of you, how you smiled so wide, the way your eyes twinkled. He couldn't help but smile as he thought about it, it was almost like a reflex to him. Seeing you in such a state brought him an unexplainable warmth.
However, a part of him felt weird, a strange sense of yearning as he thought about the photo, Anna so close to you, the way you thanked her, complete with a heart. Part of him hoped that that was him taking you out to eat, him getting you to smile like that. But it wasn't, and it hadn't been him in a long time, and it wouldn't be, not for a while.
Of course, the two of you shared heartfelt messages with each other every day, and phone calls whenever you could. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same as being right there with you in person. It was hard for him, and he knew it was hard for you too.
In an instant, he's thinking about the last phone call you shared, just yesterday, the way you'd broken down in tears to him, about your workload, about how isolated you'd been feeling. He tried to keep composed, but he knew that he was part of the reason you were crying, though you never outright blamed him. All he could do was gently coo to you on the other end of the phone, softly pleading with you to not cry, that you would be alright. Truth be told he wanted to curl up and die in that moment. He'd never forget the sound of your wavering voice, the way it cracked just before a desperate sob clawed its way out of your throat, "I just miss you so much."
Part of him wondered if you would ever get sick of this if one day you would wake up and realize you didn't want a boyfriend who was gone all the time.
He had no problem with you spending a night out with your friends, in fact, he was ecstatic that you seemed to be having a good time, it was the fact that he wasn't able to share that good time with you that led to the sinking feeling in his chest that he felt now. You having left him on seen had only added insult to injury. If he really thought about it, he'd much rather feel this jealousy than have you cooped up in your empty apartment all night.
He shook his head, rolling onto his side, damning himself for feeling so selfish right now.
He turned his phone over once more, and the time flashed in front of him, 1:47 AM. Fuck. It was later than he thought. His jealousy was completely replaced by worry, and his stomach flipped. Surely it was far too late for you to still be at dinner, you'd told him you'd text him when you got home.
Anxiety set in as he began to weigh his options, either he could call you and potentially disturb your night out, or not call you, leaving you unbothered, but leaving him worried about where you were. After all, what if something happened, he'd never forgive himself for not calling.
He unlocked his phone, scrolling his recent calls so he could call you. He swore he could hear his heart beating as the phone rang, once, twice, three, four times-
"Hmm hi mmbaby." Your words are sloppy on the other end, and for a moment Joost worries that he may have woken you up, until he clocks the combination of the stifled thumping of music, and screeches of laughter.
"Hoi schat, where are you?" His eyebrows furrow
"I am..." You trail off, "I am at a bar, like, i think. I think two blocks from the restaurant- wherever I was." You sigh.
"Are you drunk, lieverd, who's there?" Joost cringes at his words, silently cursing himself for his interrogative tone.
"Ummm... Maybe a little, or a lot" You giggle, "And um- Anna, duh, and... Hanna..." You pause to laugh for a moment, "Anna and Hanna," You repeat, obviously fascinated with the rhyme, "And Zoë and Noor."
"Okay," Joost sinks into the bed, relief washes over him when he recognizes the names of who you're with. "I don't want to bother, I just wanted to make sure you're okay." He's timid, it's unlike him to be so quiet, his words softly tip-toeing around his true feelings, feelings of how bad he wishes it could be him you were out with right now.
"Okay?" You repeat with more emphasis, "Not ok...I am great!"
"That's good to hear." He hopes his jealousy doesn't peak through his short words, it feels terrible, his stomach has tied itself up in knots and the guilt he feels for feeling this way strangles him.
He thought about the nights the two of you would go out drinking together, the way your eyes would light up when a song you liked played, you'd grip his hand tight, forcing him out up so he could dance with you. He'd always end up more drunk off his love for you than he did from the alcohol, no matter how much he drank. By the end of the night, like clockwork, the bartender would be shouting that it was last call, and Joost would stand at the bar, taking the remaining sips of his final drink. Your head would rest against his arm, eyes barely open. You'd complain your feet hurt from all the dancing you'd been doing, your voice thick with intoxication and exhaustion. As the two of you headed out, he'd let you climb on his back so he could carry you to wherever the pair of you were going. He'd love nothing more than to feel that now, to feel the comforting weight of your body against his back, to feel your arms wrapped around his neck, your head nuzzled against him, the warmth of your breath tickling the skin of his neck.
"I'm so happy," You state, and Joost can almost hear your smile through the phone. "M'so happy. Love my friends."
"Sounds like they're taking good care of you,"
"Yes, such such good care of me, don't you worry - they will have me back home in one piece."
"Goed, will you be home soon?"
"Mmmprobably, my feet huuuurt." You whine, causing Joost to let out a small chuckle, like clockwork, "Nngh- If only I had a tall, handsome, strong, dutch man, preferably one who is blonde and has a mustache and is also named Joost Klein to carry me home." You sigh loud and dramatically.
Your words sting, Joost knows you don't mean them to, but he can't help but feel a twinge in his chest at how badly he wishes he were the one taking you home.
"I'll carry you wherever you want when I get home, to make up for my absence, you won't have to walk a single step ever again."
Joost's face lights up hearing you giggle on the other end, but suddenly your laughter dies down, and you sigh once more,
"I think- I should go,"
"That's alright, get home safe, ik hou van jou"
"I love you t-,"
"Eyy," Joost cuts you off, "In Dutch."
"Ik hou ook van jou."
Joost <3:
Flight was cancelled, I don't know when I'll be able to get on another, het spijt me, I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight.
It had been a whole eight weeks that Joost had been gone, and as you stared down at the text you just received, it felt like if you had were to spend one more second apart from him you might just explode.
Sure a cancelled flight may only delay you seeing your boyfriend for a few hours, maybe a day at most, you could still feel the tears welling up in your eyes. It already felt so late, you didn't want to wait anymore. You tilt your head back, blinking rapidly to fight the small droplets pooling in your waterline.
Your phone chimes again.
Joost <3:
I'll see you soon, I promise, Oké?
You're barely able to read the message through your wet eyes before there's a knock at your door. You sniffle, and quickly dry your tears, confused at who would be knocking on your door at this time. You slowly rise up from your bed, walking with trepidation towards the door.
You press your chest up against the door, closing one eye tight to look through the peephole. As your gaze adjusts, you feel your heart slip down to you the stomach it couldn't be.
Quick, trembling fingers are racing to unlock the locks of your apartment door before flinging it open. It was.
There Joost was, standing before you. A grin plastered onto his face, he'd been holding something in each hand, a bouquet of flowers in one, a bottle of wine in the other, but still his arms were stretched out, inviting you in for a hug.
Before you can even think of a word to speak you're running into his arms, wrapping your own arms around his torso. The familiar warmth of his body heat fills your body.
He must be able to hear the sound of your heart from how loud its beating, or at the very least, feel its rapid pulses against his chest. You nuzzle your face against him, taking in the gentle scent of his cologne. It's so familiar, and inviting, and you feel nothing but overwhelming love as you let Joost overwhelm your senses.
"You don't know how much I've missed you." His kisses pause for a moment as he mumbles against your hair.
"I've missed you too," You strengthen your grip around his waist, "So much."
"Let me put this stuff down so I can give you a real hug, ok?"
You don't want to let go, not even for a moment, you'd spent far too long without him, and you feared if you let him go, even just for a second, he would disappear again. Reluctantly, you let your arms fall from his torso, sighing at the lack of warmth you feel as your body separates from his. He steps around you, leaning over to kiss your cheek as he passes you, "Stay here,"
"Huh?" You question, about to step forward to follow him into your apartment.
"No, no no- stay there." Joost quickly whips his head back around, moving towards the kitchen counter to place the wine and the flowers. He looks up and smiles before heading towards you.
His arms wrap around your lower back, beckoning for you to jump a little so you can put your legs around his hips and he can carry you. Once Joost had you steadily in his arms, he walked forward, letting go with one arm to quickly shut the door behind the two of you before placing it back around you once more.
"I told you, you wouldn't have to walk when I get back,"
"Hmm, won't have to or won't be able to?" You smirk as you push your body against his, laying your head on Joost's shoulder, he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.
"Such a dirty mind." He chastises
You place soft, passionate kisses against Joost's neck, slowly trailing up to his jaw, before eventually planting a kiss on his lips. He wastes no time in kissing you back, his lips hungrily going after your own. Your hands find your way into his hair, your nails softly scratching at his head as gently pull at the blonde strands.
Joost breaks the kiss so he can turn around, placing you on the kitchen counter. He stands in front of you, in between your legs, you wrap them around him in an effort to bring him closer to you. Your head flips to the side,
"Are these for me?" you pull at one of the flower petals with your thumb and pointer finger, feeling its soft velvety texture.
"Of course, and the wine. Well, I guess that's for us. I'll order us some takeaway, I know it's not as going out- but I promise I'll take you out tomorrow, I'll make up for every second I was gone," Joost's fingers gently grip your jaw, pulling you to face him. Your eyes meet his, deep and blue, filled with a light you missed all too well, "I'm sorry, liefje, for making you so lonely."
"You know that's not your fault." You tilt your head, pouting at his consolation. His words cut, how could he blame himself?
"It's okay if you say it is," His hand trails up your face, resting his palm against your jaw, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your cheek, "You can tell me."
You stare at him with wide eyes, your brain searching for the right words to properly convince him that he has done nothing wrong.
"No," You manage to whisper, "You don't know how happy it makes me to know you're performing every night, to know you're doing what you love."
"But if I wasn't gone all the t-"
"I wouldn't trade this situation for the world." You cut him off, staring at him intensely, hoping to communicate how deeply you mean your words.
"Okay," Joost concedes, his voice quiet, he was never one to fight you on things, "But one day, when I make enough money, I'll take care of you," He cranes his neck, planting a kiss against the opposite cheek of where his hand rests. The stubble of his facial hair is scratchy against your skin, in an oddly comforting way, it's familiar, and it reminds you of your close proximity. You sigh, drinking in the intimacy of the moment as his lips lower to your neck. He pulls away briefly, "You won't have to work another second and I'll take you everywhere with me."
A soft smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, and you cannot help the heat that floods your body as you picture your future together. It's a comforting picture, and it makes all the waiting, all the lonely nights worth it.
Your hand reaches out, tugging at the thick fabric of his sweatshirt, attempting to pull him even closer to you, like you wanted your bodies to intertwine, to fuse and become one so you'd never have to be without him again.
"I can't wait," Your words are short, your breath getting caught in your throat as Joost nips at your neck. His lips are soft, soothing the tingling pinch of his teeth against your skin.
His breath is hot, and each kiss is filled with an ardent longing. Warmth spreads through your stomach as his hand slips to the back of your neck, his fingers thread through the strands of your hair, before tugging gently, careful not to hurt you. But it is enough to make your breathing shaky and you wonder if you're even going to get to break open that bottle of wine anytime soon.
You hope he leaves a mark against your neck, you hoped he'd leave many. If you were in any space to talk, you'd speak up and tell him as much, begging for a pretty purple and red reminder of where he'd been.
As much as you ached for it, you didn't really need a mark to remind you of his love for you. You knew every word he spoke was true, how he'd make up for every second he spent without you, how as soon as he had the means to he'd provide fully for you. It was obvious, his love was warm, it was soft, it was something completely irreplaceable.
a/n: hiii!! wow my first time writing for Joost, I haven't written rpf in awhile, so i hope i did it justice! and thank you so much again anon for the request, i hope it is to your liking :-)
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❥ librarian | chuuya nakahara
warnings: fem! reader, meet cute, chuuya is a flirt bc i said so, wined and dined, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, bedroom sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, rough sex, whiny chuuya, corruption kink(?), reader does not know how to dress to save her life, sugar daddy(?) chuuya, unironic lip biting, chuuya is one hell of a chef, dirty talk, reader reads smut, semi-proofread
MDNI | 18+ content
word court -> 4.7k
“Excuse me, could you keep your voice down, please? It’s a library…” was something that you said more often than you would like to admit. Sure, you only took the library job because of how insanely introverted you were, but that was neither here nor there. You thought that people would have more respect for a place that let you borrow as many books as you wanted, but nope. It was either filled with screaming children, teenagers kissing in the nonfiction section, or the elderly who didn’t know how to open their email accounts, bless them.
Other than the constant shushing (and the resulting glares you get from people you’ve shushed), the library job was nice. It was comforting, it had decent pay, and you got to keep some of the books that no one wanted to check out anymore. Hell, you even got hit on once or twice by freakishly tall men. Then again, all men were freakishly tall in your eyes. You fit the tiny librarian stereotype quite well, which your fellow librarians found to be adorable.
Standing in the true crime section, your heeled feet stood on a step stool so you could better organize books about mafia activity in past decades. It wasn’t a very popular section by any means, mostly because the locals that frequented the library thought that true crime a was bit too niche. You didn’t mind really, it just meant that you got to be on the opposite side of the building and away from the screaming children. Often you wondered what it would be like to be a witness to a mafia hit, how the adrenaline pumping in your veins would make you feel. Lost in your train of thought, you neglected to notice that you were slowly slipping off of the step stool, the backings of your high heels teetering off the edge. It wasn’t a steep drop by any means but it would hurt pretty damn badly if you fell.
Taking an ignorant step back, the back of your heel found nothing to land on. Yelping slightly, you spread your arms out and waved them back and forth in what was probably the world's weakest attempt at flying. “Oh shit-” you closed your eyes shut and braced for impact, hoping that you wouldn’t land on the sharp metal bookshelves behind you.
The impact never came. Instead, you felt a warm embrace of someone holding you. You opened up one eye carefully, your baby hairs covering your forehead.
“Hey, you okay?” A deep and raspy voice snapped both of your eyes open, your gaze landing on a head of ginger hair. The man smirked at you and let you down, making sure you didn’t have any scratches by scanning your body up and down. Or maybe he was checking you out, who knows?
“Uh, yeah. I think I’ll be fine.” You nodded, dusting off your pants. No scuffs on the expensive fabric, thank God. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t hit my head, by the way. Not everyone would do that.”
The man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, giving you a questioning look. “You must work with some real assholes then. In my line of work, ladies don’t get treated like crap. At least the ones who everyone respects.”
“Seriously? Damn, that seems like a really good job.” You smiled at him, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.
“Eh…it has some setbacks. I won’t get into it now, too much bullshit to unpack here.” He bit the inside of his cheek, holding out his hand for you to shake. It was gloved, he seemed like a gentleman. Or maybe he just really didn’t like getting dirt on his hands.
You smiled and eagerly took his hand, looking into his subtly blue eyes. They really complimented his ginger hair and pale complexion, hell, he even looked like the main character in a popular romance novel.
“Chuuya Nakahara, at your service.” He smirked once more, letting go of your hand. He noticed that your hands were smaller than his own, in fact, you were actually smaller than he was. And that was rare, considering he was in close competition with most middle schoolers in the height category. “What’s your name? I wanna know the name of the women I saved from eating absolute shit.”
You giggled and told him your name, putting your hands in your pockets. Chuuya thought your giggle was sweet, like a song bird. It was a welcome sound in his life. After all, Chuuya was used to gunshots and screams instead of the giggling of a cute librarian with a name that fitted her oh so right.
“You got a cute name, y’know. Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ that.” Chuuya placed his hands in his pockets as well, fiddling with the lintballs in the corners of the expensive fabric.
The silent was quite awkward between the two of you. Chuuya, a secret mafia boss who’s experience with women was tainted with expensive red wine. And yourself, a librarian who was so introverted that the world could end and you’d jump for joy.
And yet, something brought the two of you out of your own little worlds and into each others? Was it love, perhaps? Unlikely. Chuuya thought that love at first sight was for suckers, and you thought that love at first sight only existed in movies.
No, there was only unspoken desires between you both. Heart rates quickening, blushes forming on your faces. Chuuya’s mind was racing, his thoughts plagued by images of you. He just met you but god were you sexy. That fucking thrifted turtleneck sweater contrasted hard with your expensive designer jeans that were no doubt a Christmas gift from a wealthy relative. You had no idea how to dress and Chuuya thought that was the most precious thing. Were you really that innocent, locked away in your own little world? You probably had no idea that your sweater hugged the curves of your tits perfectly, that your pants showed off your thighs so expertly. God, it drove Chuuya wild.
What did your lips feel like, so plump and perfect? Where they untained, fresh as snow? Or were you just putting on an act, secretly a vixen behind that innocent and soft stare? Chuuya didn’t know, but he just had to find out. The redhead had only just met you but holy fuck, you were simply perfect. He had to get a taste, even if it was the last thing he did.
“So what’s a pretty thing like you workin’ in a place like this? Do they pay you well or somethin’?” Chuuya asked, leaning against the metal shelving that held the American history collection.
You shook your head and sighed, placing a hand on your hip in frustration. “Unfortunately no, I could really use a raise.” You sighed, running a hand through your comically messy hair. “The only reason I can afford my apartment is that my parents left me quite a bit of money when I said I wanted to live on my own. I’m a lucky person, I guess.” You chuckled at the last bit, flashing Chuuya a smile that drove him crazy. He faked a cough to hide the obvious lump growing in his throat, a tinge of pink dusting his freckled face.
“Yeah, you really are lucky.” He took a step foreward, placing his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up ever so slightly so his eyes met your own. “And you’re really fucking pretty.” He whispered, taking his hand off your chin.
“O-oh, thank you.” You stammered, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked down at your feet. The Mary Jane’s you wore wree slightly scuffed, they always have been. It adds a bit of character, one could say. Chuuya smiled softly and adjusted his hat, taking a step back to give you space.
“Listen, I have work that I gotta get back to or else my boss will kill me. Can we meet up at your place after that. Y’know, only if ya want to. I’m no pusher.” He blushed at the last part, rubbing the back of his neck to avoid making direct eye contact with you. It was strange, Chuuya has always been smooth with the women he met in bars. So why were you making him so flustered? Maybe it was because unlike the girls he picked up before, you were innocent. Pure, like fresh snow.
You were taken aback by his flirtations, though they weren’t unwelcome. You stopped fidgeting with your fingers for a moment, biting down on the plumpness of your lower lip.
“What, cat got your tongue or something?” Chuuya grinned, proud of himself for his little joke.
N-no, well not exactly.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath so you could look at the devilishly handsome man in front of you. “I’ve, God this is embarrassing, I haven’t been on a date since college.” Sighing, you stared at the bookshelf next to you. “It’s pathetic, I know. I get if you aren’t interested in me anymore.”
Chuuya frowned and took his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you’ve been on zero dates or a million of them. That doesn’t matter. I asked if you wanted me to come over so I can fuckin’ cook for you.”
“You can cook?”
“What kind of world are you living in? Of course I cook, what kind of man can’t cook?” Chuuya pinched his temple with his fingers, silently cursing all the worlds incompetent men that drove the standard to decency so low that it was practically in hell. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout at ya. Old habits.”
“Don’t worry about it, I deal with screaming children all day. You’re fine.” You smile, taking out your phone. “Here, put your number in and I’ll give you my address.”
Chuuya shook his head, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. “Actually, um, my phone is broken right now. How about you just write it down for me, dollface?” He couldn’t risk putting your information into his phone, what if Mori was going through it? He could deem you a security risk and then only God knows what would happen. Chuuya wouldn’t risk it, he had to make sure you were okay with his…business before he did anything too personal like give you his contact information.
“Oh, sure. I guess giving you my number is too personal, sorry.” You awkwardly chuckled, leading him to the main library desk. You ripped off a sticky note from the pad and wrote down your address in pretty cursive letters. Chuuya smiled to himself as he saw your handwriting, it was the cutest fucking thing. You were absolutely a librarian, no doubt about it.
“So, see you at seven?” He asked, shoving the sticky note into his jacket pocket.
“Seven’s all right. What will you be making me?” You asked, beginning to type away at the library computer.
“It’s a surprise.” Chuuya winked at you, turning around and walking away. You blushed and resting your cheek on your hand. In your mind you were dancing in happiness, finally having landed a date. And such a good looking one at that. Who the hell cares if he’s short, he’s tall to you. Height doesn’t matter anyways.
Your shift ended and you practically skipped out of the library building, clutching onto the messenger bag that carried your erotic novels. The library didn’t carry anything erotic, you just disguisted the books with false covers about local history and lore. No one would be into that shit, so it was the perfect plan. The stories consisted of fantasy romances with sections that were so arousing that you couldn’t read it without thinking that you were committing some sort of sin.
Stepping up the stairs to your apartment, you opened the door and shut it quickly as to not attract any unwanted pests. Mostly bugs, they’ve become a real problem. What would Chuuya think if he saw a bug in your apartment? Your mind was speeding, anxiety building up in your belly. This was your first date in a while, what if you fuck it up somehow? Or worse, what if it goes too well and he wanted to have his way with you. Chuuya was too handsome to refuse sure, but what about you? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex, let alone kissed somebody? Oh God, what if that turned him off and he never spoke to you again?
“Dammit, snap out of it!” You slapped yourself across the face, hissing slightly at the pain. Putting yourself together, you strode over to your bedroom and pulled out a dress from way back in your closet. It was a decent length dress with spaghetti straps, your fanciest piece of clothing. The rest of your wardrobe consisted of sweatpants, tank tops with cartoon characters on it, the occasional designer jean, and several thrifted sweaters that had absolutely been worn by a grandfather.
The dress slipped onto you no problem, like a glove. You didn’t bother wearing any tights or stockings, the dress covered your legs up nicely. You decided to just leave your hair as it was, draped nicely around your shoulders. Light makeup here and there, if you could count mascara and lipgloss as makeup.
Exiting your bedroom, your hands dropped to their sids as you sat down on your living room sofa. There wasn’t anything good on the TV, and reading an erotic novel before Chuuya got there would have probably ruined the mood for you. Was getting ready too early a mistake? Maybe.
Your eyes watched the clock, your pupils going in circles as the second hand made its rotation over and over again until it was about 6:55PM. A knock was heard at your door, snapping you out of the cycle of clock-looking.
Squealing quietly, you speed-walked over to your door. Taking a deep breath in, you opened the door and there Chuuya stood, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a singular red rose in the other. “Hey there pretty girl, mind if I come in?”
“O-of course, Chuuya. Uh, sorry.” You stammered, shutting the door as he let himself inside. Chuuya stood in the foyer of your apartment for a moment, quickly noticiny the hundreds of books the lined the shelves. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised doll, shoulda known you’re a huge nerd.” He chuckled, handing you the rose. His outfit was not too different from that afternoon, only the hat and the jacket were missing.
“Thank you, it’s really pretty.” You blushed, placing the rose in a nearby empty vase. “So, um, what are you making me tonight? I’m starving.” You led him into the kitchen, helping him set down the groceries on the counter.
“Kobe beef,” Chuuya said nonchalantly, looking around the kitchen. “Where are your knives? Don’t see em anywhere.”
“In that drawer right there- did you saya kobe beef?” You gasped, taking a step back. “B-but that’s really expensive! This is just a first date y’know, I would have accepted take out!” You stammered, not used to the treatment. Did he really just buy kobe beef for you? How much does he get paid?
“Yeah, what about it? You a vegetarian or something?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, opening the beef from its luxurious packaging and placing it on the simple wooden cutting board.
“No, it’s just that…well kobe is really expensive and this is a first date! It’s not even at the nice restaurant or anything, it’s my fucking house!” You whisper-yelled at him, walking foreward so your face was inches away from your own. Your shyness was replaced with anxiety, anxiety that you really had no excuse to have.
Chuuya smiled and patted you on the head, rubbing on your hair with his gloved hand. “Don’t worry about that princess, just have a seat and let me cook for you, yeah?” He assured you, gesturing to your kitchen table. “And besides, you’re dressed up like a five course meal, so shouldn’t you be treated to one?” He smirked, finishing up the chopping of the beef. He figured out how to work your stove pretty quickly, placing the beef in a pan with a little bit of truffle oil. The stove roared to life as the beef began to quickly sizzle, a wonderful aroma that smelled like luxury filled your apartment.
You blushed at Chuuya’s comment, sitting yourself down in the chair. You watched him cook, his brows furrowed in concentration.
The beef was done cooking after a bit, being carefully plated with an array of incredibly looking vegetables. Chuuya sat across from you and took your hand in his own, kissing the back of yours tenderly.
“Bon appetit, princess.” He grinned at you, his eyes hiding a lust that was so extreme Asmodeous himself was jealous. He observed how you ate the beef so carefully, so tenderly. You savored each and every bite, sighing occasionally as the flavors hit your tongue over and over again. Chuuya bit his lip as he watched you eat, barely touching his own dinner. You looked absoltuely succulent in front of him, oblivious to how you were making him feel. Chuuya wanted to shove everything off the table and fuck you right then and there, but he decided to be a gentlemen about it. Dine you, maybe wine you, and only touch your pretty body if you wanted him too.
You finished your meal quickly, frowning to yourself at Chuuya’s full plate. “Are you not hungry or something?” You asked, ignoring the bits of beef resting at the corner of your mouth.
“I’m hungry for…something else.” Chuuya smirked, grabbing your dirty plate and placing it in the sink. He stepped over to you and took your hand, hoisting you up from your chair. Carefully, his arm wrapped around your waist so he could pull you in closer to his own form, his fingers running up and down your hip bone. “If you know what I mean.”
You blushed and slowly nodded your head, noticing how his perfect blue eyes seemed to have fireballs igniting within the azure pools. “I…I do. I just…I haven’t had sex in a while. Kind of goes hand-in-hand with the whole dating thing.” You awkwardly laughed to yourself, hoping a joke would lighten the tension.
“I could change that for you dollface, if you want me to.” Chuuya purred, tilting your chin up to his lips were just hovering above yours. “Just say the word sweetheart, and I’ll make you see stars.” He whispered, his hot breath touching your trembling lips.
You thought for a moment, your mouth still agape at Chuuya’s boldness. “...okay.” You breathed against his lips, mere centimeters away.
With your consent, Chuuya crashed his lips against yours. With one hand clutching ont your waist, the other cupped your face quite gently. His kiss was rough and passionate, groaning into your mouth at the sensation that he had so long been craving.
Your hands flew to grab onto his hair, tugging at the longer part. Chuuya moaned slightly at the sensation, squeezing the fabric of your dress. He pulled himself away slowly, choosing to instead attack the delicate flesh of your neck. His lips found your sweetspot and sucked harshly, your lips producing the cutest little moans which only made his cock harder. A bright purple hickey formed in no time at all, definitely going to last a few days.
“You wear turtlenecks, right? Shouldn’t be a fuckin’ problem then.” He growled against your neck, trialing molten kissed down until he reached your collarbone, playfully licking it.
“M-maybe we should go to the bedroom? Comfier.” You managed to squeak out, softly moaning as Chuuya continued to nip and kiss at your collarbone. He pulled away, grumbling at the loss of contact.
“Good idea dollface, smart.” He lifted you up bridal style, chuckling as you squealed. “You’re so fuckin’ adorable baby, y’know that?” He asked, kicking open the door to your bedroom. He practically threw you onto the bed and pounced, pinning your wrists above your head quickly. Chuuya slammed his lips against yours once more, shoving his tongue down your throat as your teeth clashed for dominance.
Taking a break from the onslaught of tongue-on-tongue, Chuuya gently stroked your face with his still-gloved hand. “Fucking good mouth you got, sweetheart.” He purred, shifting himself so he was looking at your hips. “Now tell me,” His hand reached to his mouth, peeling off his gloves with his teeth. “Do you want my fingers or my tongue first, princess?”
You gulped nervously, your face feeling like it was going to explode at any moment from how fucking horny you were for this man. Your legs were practically shaking under him, how was it possible that one man could make you feel euphoria without fucking you?
“B-both, please…” You whispered, not daring to look into his aflamed blue eyes that burned for you. Your aroused pooled in your belly, just waiting to be taken care of.
Chuuya nodded approvingly, lifting your dress up to reveal your panties that were soaked in your arousal. “Fuckin’ dirty girl, so perfect for me.” He whispered, hastily removing your panties and tossing them into some corner of your bedroom. He shivered at the sight of your glistening core, admiring how otherworldly it looked in the dim lights of your bedroom.
“Shit,” Chuuya groaned, gathering some of your slick on his fingertips before carefully inserting his index and middle finger inside of your sobbing cunt. He wasted no time in curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting them back and forth swiftly.
“Oh fuck, oh my God!” You cried out, throwing your head back even further into the soft pillows beneath you. Your legs wanted so badly to wrap around his hand, trapping him there for a while.
“That’s it baby, scream for me. Fuckin’ scream for me princess.” He growled, his lips sucking on your clit roughly. His tongue lapped and sucked at your desperate folds, fingers pumping in and out of you like he was in a competition. He could feel your walls sucking him in, knowing your orgasm was close.
“Fucking cum for me baby, lemem hear those pretty moans of yours!” Chuuya demanded, eating you out like a starved man.
“Oh fuck, Chuuya!” You screamed out his name as your orgasm finally hit, the knot in your belly becoming undone too fast for your own liking. You wish that moment could last forever instead of mere moments.
Gasping and panting, you propped yourself up by your elbows to be greeted with a chuckling Chuuya, licking off your cum with his expert tongue. “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever fucking had before princess.” He spoke, his voice low and sultry.
Chuuya briefly got off the bed to take off his pants and boxers, gasping as the air of your bedroom hit his throbbing cock. He relished in your shocked expression, your mouth left hanging wide open at the sight of him.
“What, never seen a big dick before?” He chuckled, getting on top of you once more. He lifted your legs up so they rested on his shoulders, giving him the most perfect angle to fuck you seneless.
“Not in a while, no.” You retorted, offering Chuuya a smirk of your own. That one simple movement of your facial muscle was all it took for him to align his cock with your entrance, slamming it inside of you.
“That was so fucking hot babe, do it again.” He demanded, pounding himself into your core without giving you any time to adjust to his length or girth. His hands gripped the undersides of your thighs, occasionally smacking the subble skin.
“Ngh, h-holy fuck! Chuuya, shit! So fucking big, oh my fucking God!” You cried out, your hands making desperate motions to grab onto anything. Chuuya bent down, pushing you into a mating press so he could better hold your hand.
“Shit, fucking scream my name babygirl. Fuck, you’re squeezing on to me so damn tight!” He groaned into your ear, his balls snapping against your ass over and over again. Your cheeks were flushed, mouth gaping open. All that left your lips were wanton moans and cries of pleasure as Chuuya’s cock hit your G-spot over and over again, the pleasure once again pooling in your belly.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I’m close! Chuuya, fuck!” You screamed, slamming your lips upwards onto his own. He happily accepted the kiss, biting down onto your lower lip as he felt your cunt contract around his soaked cock.
“Fuck, can you hold out just a little longer baby? Wan’ cum with you, yeah?” He whined against your lips, furiously meeting his hips with your own as the scent of sex and longing filled the bedroom.
“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” You cried into his ear, not sure how much longer you could stand to not fall into your orgasm.
He growled against your neck, his thrusts becoming staggered and desperate in a relentless tempo as Chuuya’s own orgasm approached him. “Shit, gonna fucking cum. Cum with me yeah, please fucking come with me!”
A silent scream left your lips as euphoria enveloped your body, wave after wave of ecstasy hitting you as your orgasm finally came. Your arousal squeezed and coated Chuuya’s cock, sending him over the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my God! Fuck…” He gapsed into your neck, his ministrations slowing down until they came to a complete stop. He collapsed onto you, lazily kissing your neck and the hickeys that covered it.
You smiled, peeling the sweaty hairs away from your face as you embraced Chuuya in your arms. “That was…just like the books I read.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his mess of red hair. “Almost exactly like those books, actually.”
Chuuya looked up from your breast and raised an eyebrow, flipping you around so you were now embraced in his arms. “You read porn?”
You nodded, gesturing to your nightstand. “Yeah, I try to keep it a secret though. My coworkers would never let me live it down if they knew the truth.” You gave him a crooked smile, curling further into his chest.
He nodded in understanding, kissing your forehead. “Well, we gotta do this again princess. Because that was…well it was fuckin’ amazing. Who knew the cute little librarian was so dirty?” He joked, poking your cheek teasingly.
“I literally just let you finish inside of me and you’re making jokes?”
“Hey, I’m allowed to be funny. I’m a fuckin’ sex god.”
You sighed and kissed his lips, feeling your eyes grow heavy with sleep. “Y’know, I don’t have work tomorrow if you wanted to stay the night…” You yawned, embracing the feeling of coziness and warmth.
Chuuya was a bit shocked by your words at first, smacking his lips together. He smiled down at you, ruffling up your nest of a hair that was no doubt caused by his body moving against yours for a good twenty minutes. “I’d really like that, princess.” He assured you, grabbing his phone from your nightstand to type something in. “Just lettin’ my boss know I’ll be late for my assignment tomorrow.”
“What if he gets mad at you?” You asked, your sleepy voice filled with just a pinch of concern.
“Well, he can suck my dick for all I care. Although, I’d much rather have you do that.” He winked, throwing the covers above your sweaty forms. “So, are you going to get changed or are we sleeping in our date night clothes?”
“Mm, date night clothes. I don’t think I’ll be able to fucking walk after what you did to me.” You laughed, pulling Chuuya closer. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the expensive shirt he wore. “Have sweet dreams, okay? And…pleae be here when I wake up tomorrow.” You whispered the last part before drifting off, the cutest little snore escaping from your parted lips.
Chuuya sighed and kissed the top of your head, admiring how innocent you looked in your slumber. “I promise beautiful, I’m not going anywhere.”
#bsd smut#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs#chuuya nakahara#bsd chuuya#bsd x you#chuuya smut#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara smut#bsd x reader smut
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"you have invited ALHAITHAM to play . . .
operation steal my heart
✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!alhaitham, too much foreplay, too little sex, (light) jealousy, wall sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, no written aftercare .
A/N : hi guys ,, i'm not dead ,, no matter how much life kicks my ass, i'm still horny !!
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
“Can you at least keep the ring somewhere on you?” you whine, big ol’ puppydog eyes looking up at your fiancé.
Alhaitham fondly rolls his eyes. “So possessive—I’ll keep it in my pocket. Satisfied?” As proof, he opens his breast pocket and, rather theatrically, lets the silver band fall into it, cushioned by the small handkerchief he had stuffed in there prior. (The square of fabric also, conveniently, hides two small pills.
Just in case.)
Your voice is, quite frankly, pathetic, whining out an “I guess” as you stand to your feet, coming nose to nose with him. Unable to help yourself, you rub your noses together, a whisper of a kunik. “It just—ugh!” You throw your hands up, stepping back and an arm’s length away—the perfect distance for Alhaitham to reach out for one of your hands once they come back down. “I don’t like sharing, ‘s all.”
“Don’t sound so pitiful,” Alhaitham murmurs cooly, yet he draws you back into him all the while. “You know the place better than me; otherwise, you’d be doing this.”
And, this?
This turns out to be your fiancé, hand in hand with another man as he serenades him with nothing but the delicate batter of his eyelashes, of the rich wine-scent washing over them both. Even from your perch on the balcony, you know that Alhaitham is not drunk—hardly so. He sips at the wine only when their target watches, and, even then, he lets it dribble back into the glass as he dumps it into the bushes, little by little, each time the man turns.
Over the crack of your earbuds, you can hear the way Alhaitham dips his voice low, the way he chuckles at the downright atrocious jokes that the man makes. (Although you know that his chuckles are forced and far different from how he truly laughs with you, it still pulls at your heart and makes jealousy burn behind that weak organ of yours.)
But so is the mission, and so you must endure—even as Alhaitham’s touch lingers, even as the man lays his lecherous eyes on your groom-to-be, even as the hand he places on Alhaitham’s hip begins to travel too far down, and Alhaitham lets it.
He has to let it.
He has to let it, and that is his cue to up the ante; and so he murmurs, all soft n’ sweet, so—so reminiscent of how he is with you, with only you, (faux-) submission buttering up his words all smooth. Leaning into the fingers dipping along the waist of his trousers, Alhaitham brushes his lips against the man’s cheeks and whispers, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”
The microphone hidden in Alhaitham’s pocket catches the barely-there groan, and your sharp eyes—even through the binoculars—catch the way the man’s fly is distressed, taut. Hook, line, sinker: all there, all right in the man’s boner.
“I was thinking the same,” he slurs, hand dropping from Alhaitham’s ass to grab him by the hand (the same hand that strokes your cock, the same hand that digs into your shoulders with each thrust—
Down, boy.) “I know a place.”
And so, he leads Alhaitham down a long hall, glancing back often with heated eyes. Trained as he is, Alhaitham meets them all, and they pass the corner, out of your vision but loud still in your ears.
“This is it,” he says, the click of the door masked with a sigh.
“Yeah.” The shuffle of fabric. “We’re alone now.” To hear Alhaitham’s voice in such a manner is disorienting, and, really, the tone almost makes your own pants tight.
“You've been driving me mad,” the man murmurs. Then there's a wet smacking sound, and Alhaitham moans.
It’s not a true moan, you know, but it still pulls at you, makes jealousy boil in your gut. “Wait—” he whispers, breathless as a dame, and murmurs, “I got something that could make this better. Trust me?”
The rest comes in a blur, and your mind does its best to stay focused but to simultaneously blot out the man’s dirty remarks, the low groans and matching pleas of your fiancé. You hear the way Alhaitham pops the pills, hear their wet kiss, know that the pills slid from Alhaitham’s tongue into the man’s throat—know because Alhaitham never fails at a mission.
“W-wait—” the man stutters, his stumbling sounds echoing. “W-what—what did you do?”
Alhaitham says no other words, and such is your own cue to come in. You share nothing but glances as the two of you dispose of the man’s body; and as you bury him, you take care to stick the shovel in his crotch.
Take that.
“That was excessive,” Alhaitham murmurs, finally sighing and leaning into you for the first touch since the mission.
“He touched you—”
“He was supposed to: that was the plan, habibi.”
You scoff, but you brush a kiss against his cheek. “I know, I just—
He tilts his head into you, then, forces your lips to press into his. He smiles, wry, then murmurs, “You’re the only one for me.”
Grinning, falling into the game, you ask, “Oh?” with a heavy lilt in your accent. Alhaitham’s eyes go hazy, simply at that, and you dip your fingers into his breast pocket, your fingers flush against his quickening heartbeat. “Is that so?”
“It is,” he replies, voice far too smooth for your liking. You lean down and mouth at his exposed throat, delighting in the rumble of a moan you feel against you. “Mm—”
You pull back far too soon, though, the ring successfully retrieved and held secure between your pointer and thumb. “I miss you being mine,” you murmur as you take his hand, slide on your wedding band.
His breath leaves him when you lay a soft kiss against his knuckles, the warm gold sinking into your lips, a comfortable reminder. “I’ve always been yours, ya hayati,” he shakily says; because for all that Alhaitham is a genius, a philosopher, he is simply a man—a man smitten by you.
“And I’m yours,” you promise against his lips. Your tongue slithers in, easy with the way his lips part just-so, and you taste bitter coffee mixed with a sort of sweet relief on your tastebuds. All the while, you take greedy handfuls of everything Alhaitham: his hips, his strong thighs, all the way to his bulging biceps and ending with a gentle squeeze around his throat. He swallows heavily beneath your palm before you slide away, letting your hands drop back to his thighs in order to squeeze the flesh there, too, even through his fancy-pant slacks.
Then: “Want me to show you how you're the only one for me?” you ask, knee bumping up between his legs. He groans, low and throaty, before he places his hands on your chest, lightly pushes you away.
“Not here.”
You grin. “Then lead the way, handsome.”
The walk home is difficult, to say the least. The adrenaline—the jealousy—of the mission still thrums through you, and it takes all your remaining willpower not to bend your fiancé over anything you pass: first a parked car, then the seats to your own truck. (Cut yourself some slack, though; you saw Alhaitham’s fuck me eyes staring at you the whole way home.)
And, of course: your own erection.
When you’re finally home, you throw open the door with a sigh of relief, a whine of, “I’m so hard,” before Alhaitham is trudging in right after you and gets pressed to the wall. Your knee slides right where it belongs, right between those thick, tantalizing thighs, grinding against his groin. He moans from his chest, rumbling through you where you’ve pressed yourself close, and his hands wrap themselves around your shoulders.
You think you can’t get any more desperate for him; and then he goes and whines your name, says, “I love you, only ever you,” and it’s over.
Crisp suit jacket, emerald tie, shirt—you tug it all off, quick, greedy, until he’s left right there in the foyer with only the stitches of his thin boxers on him. And, oh, what a sight that is: Alhaitham in nothing but his boxers with the seat soaked through. His inner thighs are shimmering, glimmering from his leaking pre-cum, and your cock throbs.
You groan. “I want you, Hayi,” you murmur, tonguing at his throat as you slide a hand down his front, down his happy trail. He shivers beneath your touch, presses his hips forward.
“Then have me.”
Oh, you will.
You fall to your knees, grinning up at him.
“Oh—oh—it’s—it’s too much—” He shoves his knuckles into his mouth, biting down harshly against his skin. You grin around your mouthful, cock heavy on your tongue and cunt loose on your fingers.
“Too much, is it?” you ask, the vibrations of the question making a wrecked lil’ cry fall from Alhaitham’s lips. The one leg he has hiked up on your shoulder trembles, and the leg he has keeping himself up threatens to fall. Your fingers—three of ‘em, all in to the knuckle—slide out of him in order to take hold of either hip, assuring you both that you got him. “You haven’t even cum yet, sweetheart.”
As you talk, as you steady him—his cock stays snug in your mouth, your lips wrapped tight around the throbbing head of it. He moans, groans, cries, sobs—it’s a symphony of something beautiful, something Alhaitham would never admit to creating.
(It’s beautiful, seeing the way Alhaitham lets go. This sight truly is just for you, and that fact makes your jealous heart calm.)
However, you do want an answer soon; so you let your spit gather around him, let him fall out of your mouth messily, let his slick coat your chin. You wipe none of it. “Well?” you goad him on, eager to hear what it is he wants.
“P-please,” he gasps, disheveled to hell and back with the hickeys to match. His body rolls within your hold, desperate to get your mouth back on him, desperate to finish all over your face.
But it seems, even naked, Alhaitham has a few tricks up his sleeve. He manages a broken, “Not yet,” that forces your emotions to stop.
Making an inquisitive lil' noise yourself, you gently take his quivering leg off your shoulder so you can stand up next to him and press him good n’ proper into the wall. (You almost slip on a sock when you do so.)
Once you're up and eye-to-eye, he doesn't leave you guessing for long. He clears his throat, his pupils still blown out and a ruddy blush still high on his cheeks, but: “I want you to fuck me,” he says.
“Right here?”
He nods. “I want you to fuck me,” he repeats, slow, patronizing (as if he's not the one begging for cock, as if he's not the one slick down his thighs), “right here.”
You grin. “Awful confident here, aren’t’cha?” you coo, slipping your cock out of your tight pants and boxers in a fluid movement. You're still fully clothed, and Alhaitham is wholly bare: the contrast makes another bead of pearly pre-cum slide down from your cockhead, one that you quickly smear across Alhaitham’s puffy labia.
His confident façade drops at the first press of your wet cock against him, your pre-cum frothing with his and making an absolute mess between his thighs.
“Where’d all that confidence go, hm?” You hum, sliding your cock back and forth to wet it with all his leaking slick. He whimpers at the way your cock catches on his, and you slowly moan at the knowledge that you're practically fucking your fiancé’s thighs right now.
“You act so tough, but you're so, so pliable on my cock, sweetheart,” you murmur, finally angling yourself properly. Alhaitham bares his throat at you—an invitation you simply cannot refuse—, and, with only another moan from yourself and a high whine from him, you’re sliding in, smooth, right to the hilt, mouthing at the thin skin of his neck.
“O-oh—”
Groaning, “You feel divine, Hayi,” you pant against the newest mark. You can't move, not yet, not when he’s clenching around you so perfectly, not when his slick is coating your balls, and especially not when he's fuckin’ mewling into the air. He’s making these high, reedy noises, so—so unlike his stoic self, and you fear having a premature orgasm when you lean out of his neck to look him in those cock-drunk, drooping eyes.
“Please,” he whispers, ruined—already broken, so soon. His cock throbs in time with his erratic heartbeat, and you swear that you can feel it against your pubic bone, against where it’s pressed to the base of your cock.
“I got you, sweetheart.” You draw out once, slow, delighting in the punched out sound that is forced from his straining throat when you slide back in. He’s loose as anything, slick as can be, and he’s making the most gorgeous sounds with each gentle thrust. His back is pushed into the wall you fuck him against, and your one hand comes up to cradle the back of it lest he slam it against it.
Your fingers twine into the short stands, and you press into his cunt a fifth, tenth, twentieth time as you nose into his broad shoulder, nose digging into the pliant flesh. Already your orgasm builds in the base of your spine, a hot knot of pure magma that’s fueled with each grind, each beg and plea that falls from Alhaitham’s kiss-bitten lips.
“Fuck,” you groan, licking into his mouth with reckless abandon. The slickness of his mouth, of his cunt—it all sends you hurtling to your end. “‘m gonna cum—” you pause, though, thrusting in once, twice, thrice, before you pull out and splatter across his cunt, across his already sticky thighs.
“What—” Alhaitham cries out, though, words stuck on his tongue as you—while stilling reeling with the sweet shock of orgasm—the hand you kept on his hip slides to his front, gathering your spend on your fingertips and press it into the swell of his cock. “Mh—!”
“T-there you go—” your voice is shaky, but you’re hell-bent on getting your fiancé off; and you’re well practiced, it seems, as his body seizes and it only takes your three cum-covered fingers sliding in to the hilt, pressing against his swollen g-spot, for him to clamp up, for him to start creaming across your palm. “Good boy,” you murmur, working his stubby cock with your thumb. The mix of his cum and yours froths at his cockhead, and the texture is downright lewd. “Good boy, Hayi, my sweet boy.
“Feel good?”
He nods the best he can, head still in your gentle grip, before you release him. Your fingers slide out with an obscene squelch. Seeing your orgasms across your hand, feeling your own soft cock, Alhaitham’s tuckered-out body in your arms—it all fills you up with satisfaction.
That, and, of course, the ring that glints on his finger. He’s yours.
this is kinda rushed 'cos i just ,, really wanted to get something out. my bad, guys ! there is aftercare, i just didn't write it 'cos i felt that this was an ample 'nuff ending. this leads to cuddling in the bathtub<33
26 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .
#the only time this man isn't in charge is with me .#o(*￣︶￣*)o xoxo !#sub genshin#genshin smut#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#sub alhaitham#alhaitham smut#alhaitham x reader#i write about alhaitham so much and my computer STILL puts a red squiggle under it . .#:///#dom reader#amab reader#top reader#x reader#it's been a bit. forgot the tags i use ngl .
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On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"
That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.
It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.
Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.
... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!
To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.
I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.
When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.
That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.
In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:
I'm not going to fulfill this request
if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)
The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.
If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.
Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗
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Reader getting really shy with gavi?
Family time
After a year of being in established relationship, Pablo wanted to bring me to Sevilla to meet more of his family and since he was traveling with the team for the last game it was the perfect timing.
I was a little nervous but he reassured me that they would love me just as much as him which calmed down my nerves a bit. Meeting his tía Almudiera and her family was very nice and she welcomed me to stay at her home while Pablo is in the hotel with the team.
"Estas segura, mi amor? If you're uncomfortable I can get you a hotel room?" he asked me on the side and I shut him up with a kiss reassuring him that I'd love to stay with his family which made him smile brightly.
"Bueno, I will come in the morning amor" he said after evening passed and we had nice dinner with his family before he was ready to depart. It was always hard goodbye especially since I got so used to sleeping in his arms at night.
"Will you..um leave your sweatshirt with me cariño?" I asked shyly and he knew the reason I needed it is to have his smell with me when he is away. It made him proud and he took it off immediately giving it to me with a sweet kiss on my hungry lips.
"We'll take good care of her niño, no te preocupes" his aunt said making us both smile as he embraced me and Pablo left smiling while stealing another look of me surrounded by his family..made him proud for finding the right one.
The next morning, I was sound asleep when Pablo came after training being told by his aunt that I was still sleeping. He promised to wake me up for breakfast before entering the small guest room they gave me.
He smiled seeing me cuddled up to a white comforter wearing one of his sweatshirt with a peaceful look on my face. He sat next to me holding around my waist and leaning down to leave wet kisses all over my neck which slowly woke me up with a smile.
I enjoyed his little ministration for a second completely forgetting that we were not home quickly pulling away thinking some of his family can come in to check on you.
"Amor, que pasa? No te gusta mis besitos no more?" he acted hurt looking down at me while moving a strand of my hair behind my ear so I can slowly open my eyes to look at him.
"No! Obvio que me gusta amor..I'm just worried someone will come in" I say looking at the door and he chuckled leaning down to capture my lips.
"My shy girl.." Pablo teased making me blush even more as we kissed a few times before a knock was heard and he told me that meant breakfast was ready for us.
We spent all day exploring Sevilla with his family, going to a little lake for a picnic with kids and I started feeling much more comfortable but still any physical touch from Pablo put me on edge.
Knowing my boyfriend and that his love language is physical touch, it was hard for him not to show it in front of his family. Not to mention he loved seeing em all flustered.
"Our reservation is ready, kids" his tía said and we walked to the little restaurant by the beach and the moment I sat down next to Pablo, I felt his hand gripping my thigh making me close my legs as smirk appeared on his handsome face. Little devil!
"Amorrr!" I whispered and he leaned in acting dumb for a moment.
"Something the matter, princesa?" he whispered back and I gave him a stern look to which he only smirked keeping his hand right where it was.
"Mrs. Gavira" waiter said and you smiled thinking a little about that title..imagining it belonging to you one day, and just like he could read your mind Pablo's hand moved from your thigh to hold your hand kissing it in front of everyone not really minding people watching.
"I'm thinking about it too.." he said and I blushed which he adored continuing talk with his family while holding my hand under the table. Obviously we were both young..but hearing his say he's also thinking about it made me so happy.
Next day, Pablo had long physical exam and training so we didn't see each other until lunch and when he arrived he saw me jumping in the pull with his little cousin smiling with his tía.
"Ella es una chica de oro Pablito, mucha suerte" she said and that made a boy even more proud that his family was loving me just like he knew they would. He knew it's impossible not to love a person like me.
"Pablo! Look the braids Y/n made for me! Are they pretty!?" his cousin was excited and Pablo smiled seeing you blushing shyly while grabbing a tower for the little girl.
"So pretty! You enjoying Y/n's company?" he asked and the little girl jumped up and down while nodding and rushing inside to grab some snack while Pablo walked up to me.
"They're all so nice to me amor, I love it here" I said gulping when he pulled me by my waist close to himself not caring much that I was wet.
"I love you mi amor.." he said to my bright red face before kissing my lips lovingly and I giggled resting my head on his shoulder while his family watched us with smiles. They were happy Pablo could find someone so genuine for himself.
"You need to be all packed up tonight when I pick you up" Pablo said and I pouted nodding my head as he pulled me in and kissed my forehead lovingly.
"We'll come back soon, bueno? Te lo prometo" he said and I smiled again nodding my head before he pecked my lips once again and we joined the rest inside.
#gavigif#gavi#fc barça#fc barca#fc barcelona#pablo gavi x you#pablo gavi x y/n#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi icons#pablo gavi
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♥︎PAC: 🤍🫧The beauty other's see in you🫧🤍
•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3
❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️
✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!
🤍If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🤍
🫧Masterlist🫧
🫧Pile 1: Queen of Wands, 3 of Cups and The Hanged Man.
Hi pile 1! Other's see you as a really charismatic and fun person! I sense that maybe you doubt yourself sometimes or don't see your traits. In Other's people's eyes you are someone confident, who can achieve everything they want; a true star is what im hearing.
There's something about your energy that attracts Other's a lot; you keep them entertained, you are encouraged to try acting/singing/ect. Activities that can put yourself out there more often.
Many may even be jealous of you. They see someone fun, confident and outgoing, so they project their insecurities in you; which has nothing to do with you and a lot to do with them, so don't even put attention to it.
I see that many want to be your friends too but they feel intimidated by you, other's also feel like you are "out of their league", many may have a crush on you. A truly star pile 1!
🫧Song:
🫧Pile 2: 2 of Wands, Queen of Swords and King of Pentacles.
Hi pile 2! You are so fearless and other's love it so much! Your aura is so powerful. Other's see you as someone so succesful and gentle at the same time, you bring a lot of peace to other's in the way you are not afraid to be yourself.
I feel like you are really unique and special for other's, you may be living rent free in other's mind; other's see you as someone really talented, who picks things up easily and gracefuly, there's a certain charm that's makes other's comfortable around you a lot.
I also see that you may feel other's energies a lot, it's like you can sense other's intentions. Other's may be a little intimidating by you also, they think that everything comes easily for you, it's like you are a natural and that makes them angry in some way. But you do you pile 2, a true boss energy! You are probably a good manifestator too.
🫧Song:
🫧Pile 3: Page of Cups, 9 of Cups and Ace of Pentacles.
Hi pile 3! You have a beautiful and Soft energy to you. People feel secure and comfortable around you. I also hear that other's love talking to you, they feel as if they can be with you for hours without feeling bored.
You are like "princess", is what im hearing, in other's eyes. There's also something about your smile, other's love it. You just feel like a peaceful spring day, other's sense your humble and nurturing energy. I feel like you probably like to help other's too, listen to them without judging, and they appreciate that aspect of you. They feel as if they can go to you without naturaly, you are just really sweet and good when it comes to those you care about.
Many may want to be your friend or many may fantasize about having you in their life. A true Princess pile 3!
🫧Song:
🫧🤍 Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated 🤍🫧
#astrology placements#zodiac#astro community#astrology#astro blog#astro notes#astro news#astro observations#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarot and astrology#tarot witch#tarot spread#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#tarot tumblr#tarot community#pac readings#pac#pac reading#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick a pile#pick a card#pick one#pic a card reading#tarot#paid tarot readings#tarot blog#Spotify
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unthinkable behaviour ノ dr. ratio
ꕤ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . requested by @hwaitham ノ thank you kindly for this request, coco! i hope i did well with his characterisation in such scenario as i’m already too deep in my own lore with him hehe but this one brought me back to look at his behaviour in the game ♡
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 0.9k ノ gn reader — sweet casual fluff . library romance . reader loves books and studying here ノ dr. ratio is overthinking just because he wants to invite you on a date ノ mostly just his thinking process . but he’s lowkey smitten :3
he looks at the dust flickering in the air, eyes unmoving while his thoughts wander in the speed of light.
“excuse me…” he hears a faint voice calling him from the depths of his mind, quickly focusing his gaze at your hunched form and seeing you pointing a finger at the sculpted visage by his side. “dr. ratio, yes? you’re sitting without your mask…”
he forgot to put on his mask — unthinkable!
“you’re correct. but the mask is to let me think clearly. this time i succeeded in doing so without it.” he adjusts his pristine collar, strands of violet hair falling over his forehead at the movement.
what makes him confused about this moment is that you’re here again, back with some titles hidden in the embrace of your arms.
your face changes into a peculiar expression, and he immediately takes mental note of it. you consider him handsome, it’s obvious. he wants to talk to you more, but instead of doing so, he shifts back his head, causing the rays of light to twinkle over his dazzling facial features, then adjusts the golden laurel above his temple.
now, back on track of his what-ifs and what-nots, he still hasn’t grasped on why and how exactly you managed to bring his entire attention.
dare he say he’s acting irrational? no, it’s too early to call it like that. of course, there must be a logical explanation to his absent-minded state. which of your qualities he finds in you attractive? or, should he mention first — intriguing? let’s not jump to conclusions that he already placed you within his tastes.
brief evaluation leaves him with an image still too vague for his liking, as if he has taken no steps towards solving the case of being enthralled by meeting you here earlier.
he skims through his memory back to the morning meeting at the library.
your answers? silly. but you didn’t seem like a fool to him. eager to hear more, actively listening to his words, leaning closer so you didn’t lose any details of his speech. of course, he enjoyed being in the spotlight of your attention, his ego all sparkly for the rest of the day thanks to your fascinated smile.
his preferred rule of keeping his words few didn’t work. you pulled so many out of him and he wasn’t even angry — quite the opposite. unable to call you dull for wasting his precious time, he basked in your curiosity, surprisingly so scarce even around the university’s grounds. no wonder he met you in the library. books here are certified proofs of expert knowledge, something that went through corrections, editions, multiple readings. they must have made you stop, right? so you couldn’t be dumb. he may even say — more ambitious than some attending his classes, for he hasn’t seen them not even once at the library.
was it perhaps the way you looked at him? if eyes were the window to the soul, what would he see in yours? glint of youthful stubbornness mixed with intelligence, beauty he still tries to deny that speaks to him more and more. he caught a glimpse of his reflection on your corneas. in your eyes, he looked much better than in the mirror.
how absurd is that? yet another thing he doesn’t understand. why would you, a person who can meet the gaze of anyone else entering the library without hesitation, waddle away from being recognised by him? he noticed the hitch of breath, flutter of your lashes, second of daze — as if he caught you off-guard with his stare. is it the fear or perhaps admiration? an aspect that begs to be unravelled, that calls to him, yet he still hasn’t had enough time to dwell on it.
“is everything alright?” your voice brings him back to reality. again. your features are tinted with a hint of concern. “you were spacing out.”
“of course i was. that’s what brought me so many achievements.“ he doesn’t hide his astonishment at your remark.
you turn around to see if there are other people in the library, but there are none. are you worried someone might judge him for being absent-minded for a moment? or is it because you two hold a private conversation?
you peer at him with a puzzled expression. you most likely have no idea about the vast expanse of his expertise in the fields of science. he frowns, then sighs. he doesn’t wish to offend you by telling you that you need to improve your understanding of the situation. once again, he’s not sure about the proper answer either.
“would you like to join me for a coffee during the lunch break?” he offers instead, finding no better solution than testing how you respond to the unexpected.
taking in the possibility of you being absolutely taken aback by such a proposition coming from him, he still hopes for a positive reply so he could observe your reactions and profile your personality further. he looks at you expectantly, perhaps a bit too intensely.
“i… if you want to,” you blink in surprise, processing the question and then nod with a shy smile. “sure…”
did he actually stutter you? a subtle grin curves his lips at the sight of the same thing that you gave him before — the opportunity to take the lead, to teach, to watch, to analyse and grasp you better.
#—writing.#hsr x reader#hsr x you#star rail x reader#star rail x you#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#gn reader#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio x you
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watch | m.s. |
matt sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: after hearing you confess all of your insecurities to him, matt makes it his mission to have you see yourself the way that he sees you.
warnings: established relationship smut; fluff; mentions of body insecurities; hint of disordered eating; fingering (f receiving); dirty talk; choking; 18+
notes: i dreamt up this smut last night and immediately got to writing because it felt a little too real. i also knew it was gonna be a shorter one shot (compared to all of my others) so decided to try out second person narration rather than first person. i still can't decide which is better, so pls let me know which u all prefer to read. i hope ya'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed dreaming ab it ;)))
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
With Mac Miller playing softly from Matt’s tv, you sighed to yourself as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. You took a moment to inspect your appearance in the full length mirror that you had been getting ready in front of, and felt like you didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. For some reason, you were having a bad everything day. You had started getting ready by doing your hair, and it just wouldn’t fall right once you had finished styling it. Moving on to makeup, you had struggled with making your eyeliner match and all of your base makeup looked splotchy; it was like nothing was sitting the way it should on your skin.
Filled with frustration, you were tempted to tell Matt to cancel the dinner reservation, scrub everything off your face, and tuck yourself in his bed for the rest of the night. But you wouldn’t do that, because he had been so excited about planning your date night all by himself.
You and Matt had been dating for a few months, and had built a relationship filled with the perfect combination of comfort and excitement. Even though you both lived apart, there was rarely a day when you and him were not doing something together — whether that be just laying in his bed watching movies all day, or going on a random adventure in the middle of nowhere. You could never grow tired of being around him, but for some reason your insecurities in your appearance were so severe today that you almost felt like you wanted to hide yourself from him.
As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your creasing concealer under your eyes, Matt walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look pretty,” He started, heading towards his closet to pick out an outfit. “You about ready?” You watched him through the mirror as he put on a pair of boxers, feeling a lump form in your throat at how undeniably beautiful he looked. You were hit with the realization that his looks so clearly outshined your own, and hated the idea of other people recognizing that whenever you two went out together.
Trying to get the negative thoughts out of your mind so that he wouldn’t have reason to worry, you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah I am. I just have to get dressed.” After buttoning his jeans, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled warmly. “Everything okay baby?” He must have noticed the tension in your brow, or the slight downturn of your lips, but you nodded reassuringly. “Yeah of course, I’m just not really feeling my makeup.” You added a chuckle to the end of your sentence, hoping to make him believe that it was just a light hearted confession. He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think it looks perfect.” He said softly into your hair, and you forced a smile onto your lips.
You walked over to the clothing rack that Matt had put in his room for you so that you could leave a variety of your clothes at his place for when you stayed over. Scanning your options, you skipped over all of your more bold pieces — knowing your head space was far too vulnerable tonight to mess around with any of them — and decided on your favourite black Skims dress. It had never failed you in the past, and you tried to reassure yourself with this fact as you removed your oversized t-shirt and replaced it with the soft dress.
Your positive attitude was gone just as quickly as it arrived once you began to examine yourself in the mirror. From the front your body looked okay, but as soon as you turned to the side you grimaced at the sight of your bloated stomach from the massive deli sandwich Matt had bought you for lunch earlier. The thin, tight material of the dress did nothing but accentuate the swell in your lower stomach, and you wanted to scream out in frustration. Maybe if your hair and makeup had worked in your favour the bloating wouldn’t have bothered you so much, but because everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong, it was enough to cause tears to well in your eyes.
As you stood in front of the mirror fighting the tears from spilling over, Matt noticed the sheen in your eyes and your wobbly chin and raced over to you. “Hey hey hey! What’s wrong baby?” He asked, his voice laced with a hint of panic. You shook your head rapidly. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.” Your voice was thick with emotion, and it made you even more angry with yourself as you knew this whole thing was stupid. “It’s clearly not nothing if you’re crying, Y/n.” He turned you around so that you were face to face with him; concern evident in his furrowed brow and racing eyes. “Tell me what’s going on sweetheart.” His voice was soft, and he rubbed his hands along your bare arms reassuringly.
You sighed and brought a shaky hand to your eye; trying to dab away any fallen tears in a weak attempt to not ruin your shitty makeup. “It’s stupid Matt.” You wined, not wanting to tell him your insecurities out of fear that speaking of them might make him suddenly see them just as clearly as you did. “Y/n, please.” He begged, desperate to try and help you. Groaning, you finally obliged; your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed. “I just hate everything about the way I look today, that’s all.” Matt stared at you with a blank expression as he took in your words, and you waited in silence — nervous to hear his response.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Y/n.” He sounded almost angry in his response, and it caused you to bite your lip nervously as you shrugged. “Nothing turned out the way I wanted it to when I got ready today, plus you’ve been feeding me too much lately and it’s been making me bloated.” You explained further, and watched as his eyes travelled from your face down to your body. “Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “You have to say that, it’s one of the unwritten rules of being someone’s boyfriend.” A dry laugh escaped your lips, and Matt moved his hand to the back of your head.
“You think I’m lying?” He asked, his tone of voice mildly threatening and absolutely serious. So serious in fact, that the weak smile left your lips and you could do nothing but stare blankly at his face; unsure of how you should answer. He tilted his head quizzically, clearly still waiting for a response. Tentatively, you nodded your head yes as a singular tear fell down your cheek. Matt’s eyes softened. “Oh baby.” He breathed before pressing his lips softly against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he began deepening the kiss — turning it into one filled with passion without losing its gentle nature. Delicately, his tongue skated across your lips; requesting access to your mouth without demanding it. You released a soft whimper from his tender movements as his hands travelled down to your ass; massaging it gently through the thin material of your dress.
“Turn around.” He ordered against your mouth, and you immediately obliged. Now facing the mirror, he stood behind you with his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. Into your ear, he spoke. “You are the most beautiful person that I have ever laid my eyes on, and I need you to know that.” His words — overflowing with emotion — caused goosebumps to cover your skin. Using both of his hands, he grabbed each thin strap of your dress and slowly peeled them off your shoulders. Not stopping there, he used his grip on the straps to pull the dress completely off your body — creating a puddle of dark material at your feet.
“Look at you, Y/n.” His hands moved across your upper body; exploring every square inch of your skin as he held you in front of the mirror. You shuddered from his touch; his hands lighting your body on fire as they glided across it. He grabbed your breasts in both hands, massaging them slowly as he planted a kiss to the top of your shoulder. “You might see flaws when you look at yourself in the mirror, but I don’t. And I never have.” His hands moved down to your hips, squeezing them slightly. “I think I just have to show you what I see, and then maybe you’ll change your mind.”
Dropping one more kiss to your flushed skin, he walked you forward a few steps towards the mirror, before using his hands to guide you to the floor. Knees tucked into your chest, he sat behind you and pulled all of your hair over to one side before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “Open your legs baby.” You gulped before obliging, sliding your legs apart but keeping your knees bent. Your bare chest rose and fell rapidly, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You titled your head to the side out of embarrassment of having your legs spread in front of the mirror — with only your small pink thong covering you. Noticing this, Matt brought a hand to your jaw, grabbing it firmly and straightening your head back in the direction of the mirror. “You are breathtaking, Y/n. I don’t want you to look away.” As he spoke, he moved his hand from your jaw down to your breast, holding it firmly as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nipple. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” He whispered before taking his free hand and sliding your panties to the side.
Your eyes planted firmly on your glistening core as he used two fingers to spread it open. You watched as your arousal began leaking from your slit, and your jaw dropped in ecstasy as he collected the fluid on his fingers. His eyes connected to yours in the mirror as he brought his wet fingers up to your lips. Confused, you furrowed your brow. “Even your insides are beautiful. Taste yourself.” He urged, and his words stirred up something within you. Slowly, you opened your mouth and immediately felt his fingers press against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his middle and ring fingers; sucking your own sweet juices off of them and moaning at the heat of the scenario as his eyes burned into yours through the reflection in the mirror.
“Good girl.” He praised once you released his fingers, before moving them back down to your throbbing core. As soon as his fingers connected with your clit, you released a breathy moan and screwed your eyes shut in relief. “Open your eyes sweetheart, and look at how fucking beautiful you look.” He demanded sweetly into your ear, making it impossible for you to even consider disobeying him. Through your droopy eyelids you watched, mouth agape, as his ringed fingers massaged your bundle of nerves; their circular motions hypnotizing you. You also took a moment to admire your body as it writhed in anticipatory pleasure — your sweat-coated breasts heaving as you gasped for breath. Matt rested his chin on your shoulder — his left hand still caressing your tits — as he watched in awe at your various expressions of pleasure.
“Look at your pretty pink pussy, baby. And look how unbelievably beautiful you look when you bite your lip. God, I could cum in my pants just from watching you feel good.” His words were equal parts sweet and filthy in your ears, and they added to the pleasure you felt building up within you. Suddenly, his left hand moved from your tits down your stomach and towards your core. You watched in awe as he swirled two fingers around your opening teasingly, and practically screamed out once he slammed them into you. Wasting no time, his curled fingers pumped in and out of you rapidly, hitting your spongey g-spot each time.
“F-fuck Matty, feels so good.” You managed to get out through breathless moans. “Mmm.” He purred, “Looks so good too, doesn’t it? Your pretty juices like honey dripping from my fingers. Tell me how pretty it looks.” You whined before obliging. “I-it’s so pretty.” You watched his reflection as he shook his head and smirked. “Good baby, but it’s not just your juices. It’s you that’s so pretty. Say it.” As he waited for your response, he nipped delicately at your neck. “I-I’m s-so pretty.” Your voice was shaky as your mind was overtaken by your impending orgasm that was very quickly approaching. You felt Matt’s lips turn up in a smile against your neck. “That’s right. And just wait till you cum princess, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.” His words caused your walls to flex around his pumping fingers and your stomach tensed from the familiar feeling.
“G-gonna cum baby.” You cried out, tucking your chin into your shoulder and arching your back off of his chest as your orgasm began to roll through your body. Suddenly, Matt pulled his fingers out of your core and grabbed onto your throat, gently straightening your head up once again. “Watch yourself cum, Y/n.” He rasped into your ear and you watched through blurred vision as your fucked out face contorted into one filled with pleasure as your orgasm tore through your body. Still rubbing your clit at full tilt, Matt filled the space between you both with muttered praises; his eyes firmly planted to your face as he almost fell apart himself from the view in front of him.
Once you came down from your high, Matt wrapped both of his arms tightly around you; leaving small kisses on your skin as he waited for you to catch your breath. “I don’t ever want you to have negative thoughts about yourself like that ever again.” He stated as he rubbed your soft skin gently. Still waiting for the fog around your fucked out brain to clear, you could do nothing more than hum in acknowledgment. “I mean it, Y/n. I get that having insecurities is normal, but, when I look at you, I swear to god I can’t see a single flaw.” Your eyes fluttered open and connected with his in the mirror. “You are perfect, Y/n. And I’m not just saying that.” Giving him a small smile, your heart did leaps in your chest at his heartfelt testament. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and when you took a moment to look at yourself again in the mirror, you realized that maybe he did have a point.
Even through your makeup, your cheeks were filled with a lively glow that wasn’t there before. Your eyes seemed to glisten in the light, and your lips were swollen and pink. You would have expected your hair to be messed up, but Matt’s hands running through it had actually made it fall exactly they way you had hoped it would when you were styling it. You still struggled with your bloating, but flashbacks of your body squirming sensually under Matt’s touch — and the residual satisfaction of your orgasm a reminder of just how good your body could feel — allowed you to find a new appreciation for it. Feeling a lump form in your throat just as it had when you tried on your black dress — this time for an entirely different reason — you gazed adoringly at Matt. “Thank you baby.” You whispered before turning around and planting a deep kiss to his lips.
“It was my pleasure, sweetheart.” He responded, both of his hands on either side of your face so he could stare at it up close. “You think you’re up for dinner still? Because let me tell you, you’re on a whole other level of sexy when you’re shovelling steak into your mouth.” You erupted into giggles at this, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m serious.” He continued, his voice filled with laughter. “You think I have blue balls now, just wait until after dinner. They might explode.” You shoved his shoulders playfully at this, and hoisted yourself up to your feet to find your discarded dress. “You add a lobster to my dinner plate, and I might just be able to help you out with that on our way back.”
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#the sturniolo triplets
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Say Yes [Part Two]
//fem!reader x Ot8!Skz//
Synopsis: You get slipped a note from your favorite idol to meet him at his hotel room, but he's not the only one there
Genre: smut/suggestive, crack, fluff
Warnings: sexual situations, reader uses she/her pronouns
A/N: thank you @seoyeonleexoxo for the requestttt ❤️ I initially didn’t want this to be three parts but this part ended up so lengthy 😭 Third part is gonna be the conclusion 💗
~~~~|~~~~
“Okay y/n, breathe” You chant to yourself as the elevator rises quickly to the second floor. Admittedly, you get out and pace around the hallway a little, catching the eye of some curious staff members walking between the rooms.
“Excuse me,” One woman says, coming up to you. You know she’s staff, especially since her employee badge is still hanging around her neck.
“This floor is reserved,” She says politely, “Are you supposed to be up here?”
You dig in your pocket to fish out the envelope you had gotten. A little panicked, you give it to her. Wordlessly, she looks at the picture and the (signed) NDA.
A tight-lipped smile graces her face, “Follow me.”
She gives you the envelope back and practically jogs down the hall. You walk quickly to keep up, and you two end up in front of room B6.
“Please remember the stipulations of the NDA,” She says, “The rest of the document should be in the room. Read over it when you receive it”
The envelope in your pocket feels heavy as she bows at you and walks off.
You stand there for another 5 minutes before knocking four straight times. Your heart beats out of your chest as you hear a hushed voice on the other side of the door.
It opens soon enough, and you come face-to-face with Bang Chan himself.
“There you are” He smiles, the gorgeous dimples in his cheeks making you feel at ease. He moved aside to let you in, and you go in with a little less hesitation than you should have.
“I didn’t get your name,” Chan says, “I’m Chris”
This makes you giggle, of course, you know who he is. But he’s just being polite, which makes you a little more relaxed.
“I’m y/n” You say
He nods and takes you further into the rather large room. The lights are dimmed, but you can make out the other two silhouettes lying across the king-sized bed.
You jump a little as Han Jisung sits up and confidently walks over to you. His cool nature spikes your already high anxiety levels.
“Hello,” He says, “I’m Han”
He points over to a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sticking out
“Want a drink?”
You can’t even answer before Changbin gets up and walks to the three of you. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top, making you a little dizzy as you get a full view of his muscles.
“You can’t just ask her that, Han,” He says, flicking the younger’s forehead and giving you a nice smile, “I’m Changbin”
“I’m being polite” Han defends
Changbin rolls his eyes, “She’s gonna think we wanna get her drunk or something- We dont by the way”
The two start to argue in Korean, making Chan laugh from behind you.
“Please excuse them, how about we take a seat?”
You nod and follow him over to a small table with two chairs. Everything seems to be going in slow motion. How in the hell are you in a hotel room with 3racha? THEE 3RACHA?
Once you two sit, Chan immediately starts to ask you about yourself. You reveal you just graduated college, and the concert earlier was a little treat for yourself after managing to save money while still paying your tuition and other expenses. You talk about your hometown, your favorite shows, your favorite songs, and how you got into Skz
“In my sophomore year of college, I had a professor who loved to play music at the start of class. She usually played louder music to wake everyone up since the class was so early, one day she played Gods Menu- I Shazammed the song and the rest was history”
Chan laughs hysterically at this, even more so that you added the fact that your teacher was a 70-something-year-old lady.
“That’s so cute” He smiles, “So you’ve been a fan for a couple of years”
“Yep. My friends have been fans for much longer though, one of them since pre-debut”
“That’s sweet” He grins, “We love our Stays, especially ones that are so beautiful”
He takes his hand and caresses your face, making your heart start to beat concerningly fast. You hear the other two men stop arguing, looking over to see them watching you and Chan with twin looks of lust.
“We saw you in the venue,” Chan says, bringing your attention back to him, “I’m sorry if all of this is overwhelming, please tell us if you feel uncomfortable”
“It’s okay,” You say quickly, “I’m okay”
Changbin and Han come and stand by the table, Han giving you a shy smile and Changbin’s smirk making you bite your lip.
“The other members saw you too,” Han says
“Where are they?” You question
“In their rooms. We figured we may scare you off if you saw all eight of us. Don’t want you to feel cornered” Chan explains
A strong sense of boldness and pure disbelief fill you as you utter a quiet, “They can come in here”
And with that, Changbin leaves the room and comes back minutes later with the other five members.
“Hi” Felix’s deep voice and bright smile greet you, “Glad to see you”
“Thought you wouldn’t come,” Seungmin says, “This is a little strange, isn’t it?”
The boys all sit in various spots in the room. You and Chan remain at the small table, him giving you reassuring looks as you contemplate the situation in front of you
“Why did you guys invite me here?” You ask
“We wanna fuck you,” Seungmin says bluntly
A chorus of scoldings comes his way as he laughs
“It’s true!” He exclaims, “It’s not fair to keep her guessing. We saw you and thought you were so gorgeous that we thought it’d be worth a shot to ask you here”
“Of course, you don’t have to do anything,” Felix says, “You can leave right now, no problem”
You contemplate for a moment. How is this real life? How in the fuck did you find yourself surrounded by eight of the most beautiful men on Earth, all wanting to fuck you?
If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up -so with that in mind- you say;
“I wanna stay”
Hyunjin is shocked at your acceptance of the offer, “Are you sure?” He asks
“Yes,” You say with an odd sense of confidence, “Give me the NDA”
Han goes to one of the nightstands and pulls out a stack of paper from the drawer.
“You have the last page of it, this is the rest.” He says, handing it to you
“Do you guys just have NDAs on standby?” You joke, but Chan looks at you with a look of seriousness
“Our team does in case any of us choose to have a random hook up” He admits, “This one is more lengthy though”
You start to look through the papers, all the men patiently waiting for you to read through everything.
There’s a “hook up” clause, essentially saying that you can’t reveal anything about the one night you and any member have had.
There’s a “Causal” clause, one stating that if you and any member(s) were to have causal interactions, you are not to say or allude to anything.
However, there’s a “Connection” clause, this one revealing that you are allowed to spend time with any member(s) [If you and he choose to stay in contact in a serious matter] with help from JYP staff. You are allowed to attend any Skz events of your choosing, be at their residence, and go out with them on dates while swearing to not say anything about the arrangement and allow the staff to keep a close eye on you.
“Interesting” Is all you say by the time you finish the paperwork. I.N. had silently given you a pen to write your signature on a couple of dotted lines.
“There are three arrangements” Felix reiterates, “Do any of them sound good to you?”
“I’d prefer the connection arrangement,” You say truthfully, “I’ve had casual sex here and there but I’d like to build some kind of relationship with you all”
Heat rises to your face as you look back at a smiley Chan.
“I understand I’m only a fan but I would hate to just fuck you all and then leave. Especially if I’m offered free concerts and shit”
Chan and Felix burst out in laughter, making you even more comfortable than you were before
“No, I understand” Chan nods, “We’d love to get to know you as well.”
“Great, I’m glad we’re in agreeance”
As much as you wish you could have just hugged all of them and started the process of getting to know the members, you caught sight of how good they looked right at that moment.
And well, you have needs.
You look around the room and your eyes stop at a shy-looking I.N, whose face turns red at the way you were looking at him.
“Do you guys have condoms?”
~~~~|~~~~
Taglist: @anxiousskylar @openthevale @kaiyaba @blackbluerose666 @angelhyunjinnie @hyun-hwanj @shuporangporangilinos @jisungsbammey @yumiblogs @sillyhal @chrizztopher97
#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz felix#skz han#skz hyunjin#skz jeongin#skz lee know#skz seungmin#skz x reader#skz minho#skz fake texts#skz#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagine#stray kids#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz angst#skz poly x reader#skz scenarios#stray kids angst#stray kids fanfic#skz stay#stray kids fake texts#stray kids x reader#stray kids texts#stray kids smau
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Genius (7) - Can You Keep a Secret
Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader
Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.
Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part
Word count: 2.9k
-And no one has to know I'm your getaway, and a little bit more than you can take-
Cairo dropped by Miller’s classroom as he was getting ready to leave, she wanted to discuss the assignment, since the writer she chose needed his approval. “Hello,” she said and took her usual seat. Absentmindedly, she left her phone on the table, not wanting to miss a text or a call from you if you were already home.
If you already got the letter.
“I was thinking about my assignment,” she opened, not inquiring about how he seemed to be going somewhere.
He smiled at her as he picked up the things he previously left on her table and almost unassumingly he went and placed his hand over her own. “Tell me about it,” he encouraged, squeezing lightly, his thumb slipping under her palm.
“Of course, just a moment,” she pulled her hand back, pretending to look for some notes or whatever in her bag. She didn’t have any, but she now knew she took it too far with him, she created certain expectations and now one way or another he was reacting to them. Which was why she had Winnie there as well, and now that felt like the right decision. “Looks like I forgot my notes, it’s fine though, I was thinking,”
Her favorite author. It was still Henry Miller, that much she knew, but given how things between her and this Miller were turning out maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Her heart told her to go with Verne, but she didn’t want anyone to know how much that writer meant to both of you. That was your secret, your book, your childhood memories, and she didn’t want them tainted or graded.
“Henry Miller,” she said, consequences be damned.
~X~
She couldn’t believe she had misplaced her phone somewhere, she had it in the classroom when she went to talk to Miller, and then just, gone. She didn’t even notice she didn’t take it with her, seeing as she was happy her idea got approved. But she was annoyed now that she no longer had her phone. She had no idea if you would come.
Please come here.
She stripped down, her body bare as she glanced at the mirror. Would you like seeing her like this? Naked, aroused, just for you, craving for your touch, your lips all over her. What would you do to her? She’s read erotic books, she rarely imagined herself as the participant, but now her thoughts were filled with those scenarios, you and her reenacting them. What sounds would you make?
She picked out a dress, a long, black dress, reaching nearly to her feet and hugging her figure perfectly, showing off her hips, drawing attention to her breasts, and her bare shoulders covered only by the thin straps. She wasn’t sure if you’d come, but she wanted to be ready, she wanted to dress up just for you, and she wanted you to tear the dress off her.
“Please come here,” she sighed, tempted to just call you, to be absolutely certain you would come and take her.
You wanted that, right?
You wanted her, right?
Please come here.
And then her landline began ringing.
~X~
You didn’t go back home right away, you had to go over to the closest town to grab strings for your acoustic guitar, since one of the strings broke last night, which was annoying, but nothing you couldn’t easily fix. As you were approaching your house you noticed the sky was getting cloudy and you were thankful you managed to come back home before it started raining.
As you parked in front of your gate to open it you noticed a letter. “Probably for mom and dad,” you guessed and grabbed it without looking at who sent it. You parked your motorcycle in the garage and went inside, dropping the letter and the spare string on the sofa. You were going with out with Cairo tomorrow and you still weren’t sure where to take her, or if she was willing to go out for a longer ride, maybe sleep somewhere else and use the entire weekend. Either way, you would figure it out in the morning.
You finished freshening up a bit and changing your clothes to something more comfortable and only then did you sit down on the sofa to check the letter you got. Right there, sticking out like a sore thumb, was Cairo’s address. The mailman must have dropped it off here instead because he didn’t feel like going all the way to Cairo’s house.
You called her, but she didn’t answer, and you figured, what the hell, the worst case scenario you could put the letter in her mailbox.
The best case scenario, you had an excuse to go and see her now.
~X~
This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up. How did her phone end up in Miller’s bag? At the start of the week she would have been elated, thinking he was what she wanted, thinking he saw her, that he could madly love her. At the start of the week she would have thought this would be the moment, she would let him take her, claim her like the books she read described, that he would be exactly what Winnie described weeks ago.
But that was at the start of the week. Now things were different and she didn’t fail to realize she, barefoot and in the dress she chose, looked like she got dressed up just for him when she simply didn’t want to risk changing and then letting the dress go to waste if you came right now. That was a mistake, she saw him. Standing there, soaked by the rain, standing on her pavement, and looking at her with unconcealed desire. His eyes consumed her, she knew he would remember this, with the way his memory worked he’d recall every curve of her dress, every detail he took notice off.
“Hello,” she spoke, confidently. He wouldn’t cross the line, he had his job to worry about. She would not get burnt by fire.
“Hi,” he replied, breathing deeply as he looked at her. “Come here,” he told her, and the reason to go over to him was obvious, her phone in his hand. She wondered if you called her or sent her a message.
She was about to go over to him, to take her phone and be done with this so he could go back to his wife, but then something drew his attention away from her, stilled his breathing and for a moment she heard nothing but drops of rain falling and breaking apart on the ground, And then she heard it, the roar of a motorcycle engine filled her ears and she felt her heart soaring, her body burning up despite the cold air surrounding her. That was the sound, that was what she wanted to hear. You came for her. You were coming.
She wasn’t sure how to explain his car parked in front of her gate. Would she need to explain of would you understand it without a single word spoken between you? Either way you parked nect to her fence and turned the engine off. Even from the distance Cairo could see the raindrops falling from your helmet and biker jacket. You walked through that gate like you used to so many times and Cairo felt her palms sweating, she wanted to step into the rain, or to make you walk faster, just so this distance would end. She wanted to hold you and be held by you, she wanted your lips on hers and all over her body. Her breathing grew just a bit faster as she watched you.
“Hey,” your lips were hidden by the helmet and she struggled to see your eyes behind the visor, but she could see the hints of softness in them. “Professor, good afternoon,” you nodded to Miller, lifting your visor up and meeting his startled gaze with a questioning look in your eyes. You looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow and then fishing into your jacket for a small umbrella, opened it and shielded the man from the rain. “You’ll catch a cold, you need to be more careful at your age,” you said it so casually, so easily that Cairo nearly lost her composure. Despite the gesture, despite the words you spoke, the tone made it clear what you meant.
And Cairo wanted to read your mind, just to see what you were actually thinking, but she couldn’t, and she certainly hoped it was along the lines of: ‘Get the fuck away from what’s mine.’ If nothing else she definitely imagine you thought that, that you were just as mad and possessive over her as she was feeling over you, because damn, she hated the very idea of anyone being intimate with you with burning passion.
“R-Right, well, uh, Cairo, I’ve given you-“ Miller stammered, red in the face and looking anywhere but at you or Cairo, he then realized he was still holding her phone. “I’m giving you back your phone!” he urgently offered her the phone she forgot. “And I’m going, nowhere, uh, elsewhere, anywhere really,” he nearly tripped as he took a few steps back. “I’ll see you two in class on Monday!” he hid inside his car, fumbling with his keys and leaving in haste as you closed the umbrella.
You sighed “Damn old fuck,” you cursed as Miller drove off and once again took something from your jacket, a letter this time, and Cairo smiled, it did bring you to her. “The mailman left this at my parent’s place. I think he doesn’t like coming all the way over here,” you joked, handing her the letter.
She nodded, smiling slightly as you came closer so she wouldn’t have to step into the rain, and her smile only widened when her fingers brushed against your gloved hand. This wasn’t just longing, she was yearning for you, craving to feel more, to touch and be touched. You were right there, your hands were touching, and your eyes widened for a moment as well, proving to her you felt something too.
“I’ll leave you to whatever you dressed up for. You look, never mind, I should go,” you turned, thinking she dressed up for someone or something else, but she couldn’t let you leave now. You took a grand total of four steps by the time she moved. She stepped into the rain and pulled you back, her phone and the letter saved from colliding with the ground only by your quick reflexes. But your reflexes couldn’t save your helmet or the umbrella from hitting the ground. “Hey! Watch the hel-“ your breath hitched, eyes meeting her own as she raised her head, her lips so close to your own she could feel the incoming burning sensation of your lips against hers. “Cairo,” you sighed, helmet forgotten somewhere on the grass near you two as you leaned down, your forehead pressing against her own.
“How do I look?” she asked, her fingers crawling up from the bottom of your jacket to the high collar, the raindrops from the sky, from your jacket, soaking her skin and the soft dress she was wearing. And she shivered, not due to the rain, not even due to the way you were looking at her, but due to the way you just pulled her closer, pressing her body so possessively to your own, the wetness seeping through her dress. This wasn’t enough, she wanted, no needed more. She needed you to get rid of the damn clothes she was wearing while she removed your own.
“Like the most tantalizing poem ever created and then given flesh,” you were out of breath, your lips ghosting over her own in the most exquisite, yet excruciatingly painful way Cairo ever felt.
“Satisfy those desires then,” she was just as out of breath as you were and it felt like the puzzle pieces fell into place, her longing, her yearning, the desires, it all went back to you. You were the one, you were her madman’s love. All the yearning, all her passion, it all exploded within her as your lips pressed against hers. As the heat of your tongue and the cold of the rain that began pouring broke her down and put her back together. Your hands roaming her body, slipping through her hair, tugging her closer, remained the only reason she wasn’t falling apart, why she still maintained her shape as you hastily threw your gloves of so your bare fingertips could touch any part of her exposed skin in your reach.
You gasped for air, breaking the kiss and leaning down while lightly tugging at her hair, and she complied, unable to resist giving in to your wishes as she exposed her neck to you. “You’re a need I can never satisfy,” you left burning hot kisses against her soaked skin, not caring about the downpour that was soaking both of you. “You’re a dream I can’t wake up from,” she felt the unfamiliar throbbing as you moved lower, to her exposed shoulder. “The only melody that can fill my silence,” Cairo closed her eyes, soft gasps escaping past her lips as she pushed your jacket down, letting the rain hit your shirt, soaking it in almost an instant, but neither of you cared. Lost in yearning and unrestrained desire, and she brought your head back up, kissing you as deeply as she could, committing the taste of you, the imperfect, lustful and loving way your tongue moved against her own once again. The string of saliva still connected her lips to yours when you separated. “You’re the desire that inspires me.”
And she captured your lips once again, not satisfied with just this. “Then be inspired, my madness. Take me in all the ways you desire,” she whispered right into your ear, sensually, seductively, for you weren’t caught in her web, you were spinning the web with her. And she was all yours, more than you knew, more than you could imagine, but she was, indeed, all yours. And she said it. “I’m yours, every part of me, in every way you want me. Love me, Y/N,” she sighed, opening her mouth in a soundless cry as you sucked on her neck, marking her as your own.
~X~
You woke up to the sound of soft breathing close to your ear and you moved just a bit, just so you could hug her. Cairo hummed, muttering something you couldn’t quite understand, well, other than the word ‘mine’ that one you clearly heard. That got you to grin as you opened your eyes and saw her snuggling up against you, she was sleeping with her head on top of you, just above your chest in fact and she had an arm and leg draped over your body.
The two of you fell asleep like that last night. Naked. Satisfied. With your clothes thrown all over her room and the letter she wrote to you lying somewhere either on the bed itself or near it. Damn, the letter would remain burnt into your memory for the rest of your life. She went into detail on what she wanted, how she wanted you to take her, excluding one detail she wasn’t aware of, You took a deep breath, trying to calm down as the words she said and the tone she used came to your mind.
“What’s on your mind?” she suddenly asked and you looked down to see her eyes still closed but the tone of her voice and the way she tightened her grip on your waist told you she was definitely awake now.
“Hmm, you’ll have to kiss the answer out of me,” you told her, and you should have expected it, really. After all, this was Cairo. She got up and kissed you, her lips capturing your in an instant as she took the lead. She nibbled on your lower lip, moaning slightly against it as you caressed her back.
“Like that?” she asked with a mischievous look in her eyes.
You nodded, grinning a bit. “So, I’m thinking about how you sounded last night. Your moans, cries, I’m recalling how you fell apart while I was inside you, crying and begging for more,” you smirked a bit as she pressed against you and just for a moment stopped breathing as you spoke.
And then she smirked back. “Well, I figured you liked your girls to be loud, seeing how much you rely on your hearing,” she told you with a hint o jealousy in her voice.
You flipped the two of you over, so you were on top. “Girl. As in one,” you reassured her and caressed her cheek. “Just you, Cairo.”
The smile on her lips could have charmed anyone and you were at her mercy, but she was at your mercy as well, just as affected by you as you were affected by her.
A/N: Well, here’s a question for you, do I write chapter 8, or the smut first?
Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae
@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy
#cairo sweet x female reader#cairo sweet x reader#cairo sweet#miller's girl#jenna ortega x reader#x reader#x female reader
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