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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

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no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

whoops? lol

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@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

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crunchywho-comix · 1 year

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Never Look Behind The Curtain

#pixton 2 #the till obsession #no actual tags #ignore that man behind the curtain #please #keep the magic #that was supposed to say that whole platz eins/till the end thing #just a useless update #still love rammstein #but my till obsession is on hiatus #igby is still my imaginary boyfriend tho #one of them #useless comic #meh #time waster

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ozarkthedog · 28 days

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𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

summary: joel secretly watches you shower.

warnings: 18+ mdni. older!joel miller x afab!reader. dubcon -> reader has no idea. reader has a bush but no other physical descriptors. male masturbation. joel is a conflicted, dirty old man but we love him so. w.c: 1.3k

author's note: the title is way too sweet for this. thank you @ghotifishreads for looking this over!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joel is a bad man.

A very, very bad man.

Still, he couldn't think of a reason to stop as he gripped the base of his cock and began to stroke while he watched you dance like a sprite under the flowing stream.

It was a miracle the two of you stumbled upon a YMCA this far from the city. Joel figured it'd be swarming with people or worse, but it was oddly barren aside from crawling vines and small critters living in the alcoves.

It was even rarer that the water would still be working, but after you begged him with those big doe eyes, Joel checked it out.

You wait anxiously on a pathway in the center of a large washroom, shifting back and forth on your feet between the shower stalls while Joel stands in one of the less scary cubicles. The room was a mess. Mud cakes the floor and walls; once pearly white tiles are now smeared with dirt. Various tiles and mirrors are splintered and broken.

"'ere goes nothin'." Joel turns the knob, and the pipes behind the wall make a slew of thuds and loud creaking noises before a rush of water flows from the tap like a waterfall spilling over the edge of a cliff.

"No, shit." Joel curses in shock and tests the water's temp. "S'ice cold." he hisses before stepping out of the tiny stall.

You squeal elatedly. Uncaring about the cold, you move closer and cup your hands under the stream. You let out a soft moan at the frigid temperature. The unruly summer days were doing a number on you both.

Joel swallows hard at the sound and shifts his eyes to the floor before spying a few bars of soap a few feet away. He grabs two and tosses you one. "I don't know about you, but I'm taking a shower now," you announce, dropping your bag into the path between the stalls.

"Guess I should, too," Joel says, looking at the other, relatively clean stall across from yours.

"You definitely should." You quip and playfully wrinkle your nose as you shuck off your shoes.

"Shut up." Joel bites back with a sly grin. He takes a few short steps and turns the shower knob. Sure enough, crystal clear water streams freely from the head.

"See ya when we're clean." you send him a smile before tugging your curtain closed.

Joel shifts on his feet in the small space as he watches you pile your clothes on top of your bag from behind the curtain. He should keep guard and give you some privacy, but all coherent thought evaporates when he sees and hears you step under the stream.

Sunlight pours down into your stall from a window above, creating a tempting silhouette as you shimmy in the water and let loose an unrestrained moan. The sweet sound echoes off the washroom walls and slithers into Joel's brain. It races down his spinal column, and reaches home in his groin. His cock fills with blood instantly, forcing him to bite his cheek and mute his own moan.

"Ah, what the hell," he mumbles, setting his pack next to yours and closing the curtain to his stall. He's out of his clothes quicker than he remembers moving, chucking them carelessly on the other side of the curtain. His cock stands hard and raging, but he ignores it, choosing to step under the freezing stream with the hope it'll curb his arousal.

"Fuck." Joel groans when the cold rains down on his sweltering body.

"Told you." he hears you tease.

Joel shakes his head with a smile. It was by chance that your paths crossed. He wasn't looking for anyone to share in this new way of life, especially after Tommy left, but as luck would have it, you stumbled into his world at the right time, and now he's not quite sure he wants to live without you in it.

He'd kept his distance over the last few months. He was too old to get caught up in sappy feelings and didn't need the distraction when life was on the line. However, that raw, gnawing need never went away. It took him a while to relax and feel secure enough to get off, but when he did, he was able to let go and succumb to the urges he remembered enjoying so much before the outbreak.

He scrubs his fingers through his salt and pepper hair, across his broad, hairy chest, expelling dirt and grime from his skin as it swirls down the drain. His erection still hasn't faded; if anything, it's even harder now as your airy singing fills the room.

He teethes his bottom lip as he succumbs to the urge once more and curls a soapy hand around his twitching length, circling the girthy base with a tight grip. Blood pulses in the crown— a desert sunset red, throbbing and weeping.

Joel knows it's wrong, but he's past the point of caring. With his left hand, he eases the curtain to catch another glimpse of your inviting silhouette but gets more than he imagined.

A breeze from the open window above your stall must have pushed the curtain open without you realizing. It was no bigger than a small gap, but it exposed enough of your body to Joel's prying eyes.

His jaw clenches tight as his deviant gaze travels along the wet, soapy expanse of your body. Water drips from your hairline, over your clavicle, between your breasts, and trickles down your soft belly. A mess of droplets and soapy suds cling to the patch of curls that covers your mound. Joel's cock throbs at the sight of your bush; he always loved the taste of a sweaty, hairy pussy.

You wash yourself, utterly unaware of his stare. The knot in Joel's abdomen twists, an unyielding cramp cinching ever tighter. He swirls his large, slick palm over his drooling tip, expertly moving with the right touch, trying his quickest to get off before the floor opens up and swallows him whole.

His sac tightens, drawing up as an intense wave burns through his gut. He watches with shameless infatuation as you run your soapy hands around your breasts and between your legs before rinsing away the filth. He roughly thrusts into his grip, imagining it's your cunt as it hugs and swirls around him while he greedily fucks into your warmth. He wants nothing more than to feel you under him, writhing from his illicit and soothing touch.

His spine curves as he hunches over and leans one hand on the wall for support as he comes with a mess of deep, broken grunts. Fingers scratch the tile, body quivering with searing pleasure as thick white ropes splash against the dingy tile; he pictures you gasping for him while he fills you to the brim.

Shame creeps in, swarming hot and fast like the midday sun after a summer rainstorm. He yanks his hand from his cock like he's been burnt when you suddenly appear on the other side of the curtain.

"Are you almost done?" your voice cutting through the white noise of the shower stream. Joel peers around the side of the curtain, eyes piercing yet sorrowful. "Yeah, gimme a minute."

For now, Joel shakes off his shame. He cleans himself up and haphazardly splashes the wall with water, washing away any evidence of his perverted seclusion.

"Here," he hears you say as you hand him his clothes. He opens the curtain a bit and notices your eyes are cast downward. Joel instantly feels the sharp fangs of regret sink into his flesh; you must've heard him.

"Thanks," Joel mutters. His fingers brush yours as he grabs his clothes, making your big eyes snap to his before they curiously travel down over his bouldering, sun-kissed shoulders. He watches your jaw drop with a silent gasp, and your knees slightly buckle at the dewy sight of him.

"Be out right out," he smirks when you forget to let go of his clothes, forcing you to mumble a mortified apology before he closes the curtain.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe he's not as bad as he thinks, and just maybe he might have a chance with you.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller smut

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

Morning comes with dark regret.

Light tries to fight past his curtains, luxurious slivers of sun peeking through the edges, casting sharp beams across his face. It’s what wakes him, at first, gently bringing him to consciousness, easing him into reality- before memory slaps him across the face.

Fuck. Did he dream that? Was that real?

He tries, for a barely there moment, to pretend that it was a nightmare. That he didn’t shut you out, turn you away from his door, sweet, beautiful face smiling up at him, timid offering on your lips.

“Thought we could, um, try this again?”

His stomach sours when he remembers the way your shy expression shattered, how you faltered, confused and… hurt. He hurt you. He took your trust, your precious heart, and smashed it to pieces because he was afraid. Because he couldn’t let you see.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror makes him sick.

Fucked up nose, fucked up face, fucked up, cruel, awful person.

Maybe he's more like him than he realizes.

How could he have done that to you? To you. The one person in this entire world that makes him feel warm, that makes him want something more, that gives him hope. His girl.

He knows why, of course. He didn’t want you to see him, didn’t want you to know what it was like. Wanted to shield you from it, keep you and Emmaline tucked away in the space inside his heart, where you're safe. Where you don't realize how much of a monster he is. Didn’t want you to witness the come down, the decompression, the shedding of his skin post mission. Didn’t want you to know that he’s not always the man you think he is, the one you know, the one you trust to hold your baby and take you to the hospital and eat dinner in your kitchen. He didn’t want to shatter the illusion, didn’t want to step out from behind the lie. He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet.

Because what would you have done, if you met Ghost? If you realized that your neighbor is a professional killer? A war criminal? Sure, he told you what he does for a living, but he didn’t tell you that much. And fuck. He couldn’t just let you in his flat. He hadn’t even showered, hadn’t gotten all the grease off his face. He still had blood under his fingernails, men’s dying screams echoing in his ears. How could he let that touch you? How could he let any of that, be anywhere near you?

You and Emmaline would be far better off if he stayed in the shadows. Kept an eye on you, kept you safe, but kept his distance. A good man, a better man, would spare you the pain, the heartbreak, of bringing something like him into your life.

The problem is, Simon’s never been a good man.

He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, he hangs up, rolling over in bed, burying his face in his pillow. He keeps himself tucked under his blankets, sleep desperately pulling at him, trying to drag him into the black abyss of his dreams and when the minutes tick by and you don’t call him back… he begrudgingly succumbs to the cocoon of sleep.

He calls again, later, as the sun is setting. You don’t answer, and he tells himself you’re probably busy, busy getting Emmaline and you fed, busy trying to settle her for bedtime. Busy ignoring him. He strains to listen through the walls, hoping to catch the muffled sound of your voice, or the TV, Emma’s cries or giggles, a sign of some kind. A sign that he should try again. Call you again. Knock on your door.

He hears you in the hall an hour later.

Emmaline is crying, and you’re trying to soothe her, low pitch of your “shhh, shhh, shhh” slipping under his door and down the hall to where he’s pacing in the living room. He bolts to his front door, swinging through the frame, turning towards where you’ve got her in a wrap against your chest, backpack straps looped through your arm. “Shit!” You yelp, eyes wide. Emmaline startles against you, cheeks wet with tears, and then she quiets, mouth hanging open. “Jesus. You scared me.” You’re fidgeting with your keys, fingers clenched just a little too tight around the ring.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, but it’s all wrong, the kind of smile you might give a stranger, someone you only know in passing. His stomach flips.

“I tried calling, earlier, uh- are you two… busy?” Let me explain, sweetheart. Please. I’m so sorry.

“She’s overdue for a bottle,” You motion to Emma, who’s now gazing at him with a sweet little smile, tears evaporated. “and she’s got a tooth pushing through, so it’s been a really long day.” You sound exhausted, and look it too, shifting your weight, stretching with a bit of a wince, and he frowns. Is your back hurting you? Is it your neck? Where is the stroller?

“Do you need some help?” C’mon love. I know I hurt you, let me explain. Please. Let me help. You need me. I need you. He takes a step towards you, longing practically dragging him by force into your orbit, but your face twists, and you move backwards, away from him.

His heart cracks in his chest. No. Please.

“Ah, no. I got it, no worries.” No worries. No worries? “With the teething, she’s… I’ll try to keep her quiet. Just let me know if she’s too loud or if it’s a problem.”

“It’s not a problem.” He rushes to reassure you. “Of course it’s not, sweetheart. I… if you have some time, later… I want to talk to you, about last night, I-“

“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” You wave him off, eyes tight, lip tugged between your teeth. Emmaline lets out a small cry, just the beginning of a wail, and you sigh. “I’ve gotta get her inside.” He doesn’t want to push you, doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s backing you into a corner or trying to force you to listen to him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He feels lost. Stupid. So, so stupid for letting his girl, his… family, slip away from him like this.

“Alright… well, let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He asks gently, and you nod without looking at him, eyes bouncing from Emmaline to the floor, to the keys in your hand.

“Sure.”

#peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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crystallinestars · 1 month

Text

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

A short-ish fluffy drabble about morning cuddles with Aventurine inspired by this gorgeous official art of him on Twitter (click the link, I promise your eyes will be blessed). I've written enough hurt/comfort for him, so it's time for some fluff. This was supposed to be short, but it somehow turned into 3 full pages.

The title for this fic is actually the title of a song (and album) made by The 1975. Check it out if you're curious!

WARNING: Contains spoilers for Aventurine's real name!

Pale sunlight shone through the half-closed curtains of the window, illuminating the room in a dim light. You slowly woke up, retaining fragments of the dream you just had as you blearily opened your eyes. You couldn’t quite remember what it was about, but the feeling of serene joy it left behind was still palpable. Such dreams were very rare for you, but perhaps the recent good dreams could be attributed to the handsome blond man sleeping beside you.

Despite the mattress’s large size, Aventurine lay in the center, ignoring his half of the bed in favor of sleeping right next to you. He had pulled you close to him last night, joking that you might feel lonely in such a large bed. You knew that in reality, he did it because having so much space between your bodies made him feel isolated. That was how you found yourself sprawled in the middle with Aventurine, your hands still intertwined from when you went to sleep last night.

Glancing at the blond, you saw him resting on his back, the covers pulled down just enough to unveil the messy state of his black pajama shirt. With all but the top button undone, the two halves of Aventurine’s shirt bunched up to reveal his toned stomach, which slowly rose up and down with every deep breath he took.

Seeing him softly snoring with his hair in disarray and pajama’ shirt all scrunched up, was an adorable sight. Aventurine’s guard was lowered around you in this moment. He allowed you to see this vulnerable side of him that nobody else had the privilege to.

With a soft chuckle, you straighten out his pajama shirt and pull the covers higher to cover his belly so he would stay warm. Reaching a hand out, you gently brushed a few stray locks of hair from his face, smoothing out his bangs and marveling at how handsome Aventurine truly was. In the pale sunlight, his hair glowed a soft gold, making him look almost angelic. While asleep, his features had a look of innocence to them that was usually absent when he was awake.

During the day, he was Aventurine, the cunning and confident gambler who bet his very life for the sake of the thrill and higher rewards. But at night, he was just Kakavasha. A lonely and empty man who sought the comfort and love you had to give. Your beloved Kakavasha.

You had the option of getting up and starting your day, but a glance at the clock told you it was only 6 am, too early for your liking. In all honesty, you would much rather stay snuggled up in the warm bed with your boyfriend and sleep for a couple more hours, which is exactly what you did.

Letting go of Aventurine’s hand, you scooted closer until your body was pressed against his side, and loosely wrapped your arms and legs around him as if you were hugging a giant teddy bear. Aventurine remained peacefully slumbering, unaware of your movements.

Resting your head on his chest, you exhaled a contented sigh, relaxing against the warmth of your boyfriend’s body. The slow and even beating of his heart assured you that he was here, he was alive and in your arms, and before long, your eyelids began to droop as sleep claimed you once more.

…

Rays of sunlight streamed through the window, landing directly on Aventurine’s face and rousing him from slumber. With a grimace, he cracked open his eyes and squinted in the bright light, before raising a hand to block out the rays.

Morning had come, much to his dismay.

Aventurine glanced down at you. You were pressed against his side with your head resting comfortably on his chest, arms and legs securely wrapped around him as if you didn’t want to let him go. The blond man’s heart skipped a beat, expression softening into an endeared smile. Something about the way you held him made Aventurine feel loved and protected.

Still groggy but unable to go back to sleep, Aventurine chose to remain in your warm embrace for a while longer, unwilling to get out of bed to start his busy day. Peaceful and leisurely moments with you like this one were far too few for his liking.

The blond wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer while you slept, and chuckled when you let out a soft snore.

Really, you are far too cute, he thought. Glancing at your face, Aventurine’s eyes roamed over your peaceful expression. Out of everyone he was currently acquainted with, you were one of the few who showed your genuine feelings in front of him. None of your expressions were a mask, and he still wasn’t used to someone being so open with him.

Right here in his arms, you were more vulnerable than ever, placing your complete trust in him to keep you safe. To Aventurine, your trust was one of the greatest treasures of all. He cherished the fact that you allowed him into your heart and showered him in all the love you had to give.

As much as he loved the sight of your sleeping face, the Avgin had begun to miss your pretty eyes. Those eyes that looked at him with joy and love—all things Aventurine thought he would never experience with someone again.

With a soft sigh, he lowered his head and kissed the top of your head, basking in your presence and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of your hair.

He tried his best to not wake you, but you had stirred awake regardless, woken up by his caresses. Reluctantly opening your eyes, your sight was greeted with the adoring violet gaze of your beloved.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he murmured, voice a little hoarse from sleep. Aventurine's speech was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, showing a more tender side of him that only you were privy to.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m glad I got to wake up next to you for a change,” you reply with a small yawn. Aventurine usually woke up before you so he could get ready to attend a meeting or prepare for another dangerous mission, which usually resulted in you waking up alone in an empty bed.

“Oh? Did you miss me that much?” the blonde couldn’t resist teasing you, a playful grin pulling at his lips.

“Very much so,” you agree without missing a beat, refusing to let his teasing fluster you this time. Plus, it was the truth—you did miss him. Letting out a deep sigh, you nuzzled your face into his warm chest, still feeling a bit sleepy.

Aventurine fell quiet at this, his playful expression softening into something more subdued, but it lasted for only a split second before his lips curled into a familiar smile once more.

“Hey, since it’s rare for us to wake up together, how about celebrating the occasion with a delicious breakfast? I can order anything you like, just tell me what you want to eat,” he offered, already reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

You groaned, not in the mood to think about breakfast or move from your warm spot in bed just yet.

“Not yet. Give me five more minutes. Please, Kakavasha?” you whine, tightening your hold on him.

Aventurine let out an amused chuckle and sighed, finding himself unable to refuse your request. Truly, it’s a good thing you were unaware of the power you held over him because he couldn’t ever say no to you.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he relented, abandoning his phone in favor of wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. “But I expect something in return.”

You only let out a muffled sound of protest in response, but otherwise relaxed into his embrace, keeping your head comfortably resting on his chest.

Despite his teasing, Aventurine also enjoyed cuddling in bed with you like this. Sooner or later, both of you would have to get up and start your day, forced to part from one another. But Aventurine was grateful for these five extra minutes. Every minute spent with you was a minute of feeling alive again.

Even though his time was precious, he treasured these little moments with you that brought him a sense of belonging and peace.

#hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #I have another fluffy Aventurine thing planned #Pray things go well for me so I can write it soon

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