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asapeveryday · 5 months

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The Last Time Pt1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral sex

Summary: You rarely go out due to how hard your classes are, but a rare outing to a Halloween party draws you to a certain blonde’s attention.

Authors note: Not my first fic, but my first time writing for Paige, or writing anything on this app!!!im nervous asf but it’s okay 😇 pls point out any spelling mistakes pls I write these at like 2am.

Minors DNI beyond the cut!!

The house was one of the massive ones off campus, white picket fences and a big kitchen perfect for partygoers to escape the loud music. Fall had turned the hot, humid and vibrant summer nights into colder ones. Streets were littered with brown and orange leaves, and houses decorated with cobwebs and blow-up ghosts.

Your friends were used to going out for Halloween parties, but you never really bothered. Your classes just got harder by the year, so you always put off a long night out. To you it was worth it, because your grades were top 3 in your program.

“When was the last time you even got laid?” Your best friend asks you.

You shrug. “I dunno. July?”

“Whatever.” She sighs, realizing it wasn’t as bad as she thought. “Still, that’s like almost 3 months of no puss. Please just come to this party, it’ll be fun!” She whines.

“Isn’t it early for a Halloween party? It’s only the 20th. We still have a week. Plus, I don’t have a costume.” You say, hoping she’ll let you stay home.

“You don’t understand, this is massive. A Halloween-birthday-party is not one that you wanna miss” She beams at you. “And I have a basketball jersey you can wear for the night. Wear shorts with it, be sexy.”

“Shorts?? It’s October!” You groan.

Regardless, you found yourself inside of this house. Your friend wasn’t lying when she said this was a pretty big party, with all the people shoving up against you it was uncomfortable to be in in your sleeveless jersey and black shorts. The kitchen was slightly less rowdy so you started to search the fridge for some comfort in the form of food or alcohol before you heard a cough behind you.

“Yo.”

You turn only to find yourself having to look up at a much taller girl. Her blonde hair was long and down on her shoulders, except for the front pieces which were Dutch-braided closer to her head. She was wearing a really casual outfit, a matching Nike tracksuit. The only thing remotely Halloween-y thing on her was the pair of fake Angel wings on her back.

“Nice costume.” You almost scoff.

“You can’t be talkin. What are you, a fangirl?” She looks down at you. Her eyes are so blue you almost stumble backwards into to fridge.

“Fair.” You sheepishly smile at her. “It was really last minute, this isn’t even my jersey.”

“That’s cus it’s mine.” The mystery blonde laughs.

Immediately you look down at yourself, a white number 5 is sprawled against the navy fabric of the women’s basketball jersey you borrowed. You look up at the blonde again and your face drops.

“Oh shit! You’re-“

“Paige.” She finishes your sentence. “Not a basketball fan?”

“Not really.” You smile. You tell her your name and she repeats it back to you with a smirk that you feel straight in your gut. You’ve rarely seen Paige on campus, so having her right in front of you has helped you realize just how fine she really is.

“The jersey looks good on you.” Her eyes sweep throughout your body.

“You don’t come off as much of an Angel to me.” You raise your eyebrow at her, referring to her half-assed costume. You haven’t heard too many rumours about Paige Bueckers sex life, but you can just tell by her silent confidence, the way she stands and even just the way she looks at you that she gets around. Being a D1 athlete probably helps too.

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” She shrugs, maintaining eye contact with you.

“So Paige, is this your place or..”

“Nah. My friends threw this party as a surprise for me. Not even sure who’s crib this is but whatever.” She rubs the back of her neck. “You didn’t come with a gift, did you?” Paige asks.

“No, was I supposed to?”

“It’s my birthday ma, I think you owe me something.” She steps closer, looking at you through her long eyelashes.

You actually feel your heart drop to your ass at this point, and she can tell. Paige cocks her head to the staircase nearby and you almost run after her when she leads you upstairs.

You’re already making out by the time you crash into a bedroom, she slams the door shut and pushes you up against it. You almost faint when you feel her knee between your legs, applying pressure to your clit. She kisses you slowly, taking her time to memorize the feeling of her hands grazing your face, then trailing down your body and finding themselves inside the jersey. Her blonde hair tickles your neck as she starts to trail her kisses downwards.

Paige’s hands trail from your abdomen to your hips, roughly pulling your shorts down and kneeling to be face to face with your heat. You resist the urge to cover yourself from her, and can’t help but think about how awkward you must look from this angle, but she doesn’t seem to care. Gripping your thighs and looking up at you with her ice-blue eyes, she licks a slow stripe onto your already wet undies, chuckling when you shudder.

Pulling your underwear to the side with one hand, she slowly eases her finger inside of you and you throw your head back with a breathy moan that makes her smile. She sucks at your clit while adding another finger, then pumping into you almost on beat to the music blasting downstairs. Her tongue is insane to you, circling your clit so skillfully while curling her fingers inside of you, your knees almost buckle and your hands find her long hair, pushing her head. “Oh my god.” You breathe out. “I’m close.”

“Already?” Paige chuckles into you. When she removes her fingers and quickly replaces them with her mouth, lapping and licking inside of you you almost scream. The vibrations from her voice huffing around you are enough for you to feel that tight, building feeling in your stomach, and you cum right there and then.

She cleans whatever she can before pulling up your shorts for you and kissing you chastely, enough so you can taste yourself on her lips. When she pulls away you slump to the floor, legs twitching.

“Shit!” You embarrassedly mumble. Paige laughs and sits next to you. With both of your backs to the door you turn your head to meet her stare. “Happy birthday.” You laugh. She rubs her face, hiding her smile. “Pfft, thanks.”

“I thought I was supposed to gift you? You just gave me like, the best head I’ve had since I started college.”

“Seeing you fall to the ground at my head game is enough of a gift for me.” She shrugs, a smug look on her face. “Plus, there’s always next time if you wanna make it up to me.”

The two of you exchange numbers, the situation is so unreal to you that you’re convinced this is all some mistake.

“Did you even plan on hooking up with someone tonight?” You ask her suddenly, and she seems surprised at your honesty.

“Uhh…I’m not gonna lie, not really. This party was a surprise, remember?” She sighs. “I think seeing some cute girl in my jersey, totally oblivious, jus did something to me.”

You raise your eyebrow. “You didn’t even get to see what was under it.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman.” She laughs. “I’m exhausted, giving ankle-breaking head does that to you.”

“Shut up.” You say, shoving her lightly.

There’s a pause before you take a chance and say “There’s a good burger place nearby if you want to recharge a bit.”

The minute you say it you regret it. Paige Bueckers was in no hurry to get upstairs with you, there’s no way she’s gonna take you out for food too. Plus, since when did you go out with girls you met at parties?

She looks at you for a second, considering you. Finally she says “Fuck it, why not.”

Paige gets up and you follow after her lead. She laughs at the way you walk down the stairs and the two of you slip out of the house as sneakily as possible. Paige offers to drive you even though it was your suggestion. “What can I say, I love my car.” She smiles.

The burgers are good and her laugh is contagious. The two of you sit in her car while you eat, she almost screams when you steal a fry and you pretend to be annoyed when she takes a sip of your drink in retaliation.

You feel so nervous being around her, Paige seems so sure of herself. You can tell she already knows what she wants out of college, out of basketball, even out of girls. Sometimes, even though you devoted so much time to preforming well academically, you weren’t entirely sure it was all gonna work out for you. You feared all your hard work wouldn’t be worth it in the end.

After a moment of silence, you ask her “Does it ever freak you out, having so many people betting on your success? If I were you I’d be so scared of letting people down.” You disguise your own fear as a question for her. Paige looks at you for a moment, then smiles.

“Yeah, It does. I’ve already had moments where it felt like I let everyone down.” She says, looking down at her leg. “But no success comes without pressure, so I guess feeling that way is more of a blessing from God than anything. It’s like He’s reminding me of everything I have to lose. Ion’ think there’s much wrong with that.”

You’re surprised at how mature her answer is. “There’s no way you’re talking about God after you just gave head to a stranger.” You laugh.

She shrugs, a guilty but satisfied look on her face. “You’re not human if you don’t sin once in a while.”

“Amen.” You smile.

The two of you talk about stupid things until it’s well past midnight, and when she drops you off at your dorm you turn to say “I had more fun then I thought I would tonight.”

Paige smiles, her blue eyes staring holes into yours. “It won’t be the last time you have fun with me.” She says, laughing to herself.

“Shut up.” You nudge her. She shakes her head, and waves at you when you start to walk to your building.

You turn to wave back. Even though you know you can’t be anything serious with Paige, you can’t ignore the warm feeling in your stomach when you think about the night you shared. You seriously hope it won’t be the last time.

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #fanfic #fanfiction #uconn wbb #smut

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freelancearsonist · 7 months

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Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile.

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face.

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality.

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #cece writes

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gojoidyll · 6 months

Text

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 2 | A Plan Fails

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Warnings | reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, grammatical errors, etc.

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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When you opened your eyes, you noticed how your ceiling didn’t look at all like your room. Not to mention that everything hurt. Which was understandable, you did fall down a long flight of stairs after all in hopes of-

Wait, you can remember everything!?!?!?

Despite the pain, you shot up from the bed. Your hands gripping the sheets as you panicked. You were no actor in one of those fancy plays that you would sneak into every once in a while, and Jing Yuan, as you have heard from others, was a sharp individual. If you wanted to hide something from him, then you would basically have to write to him in letters in hopes that he doesn’t come see your lying face in person.

What am I going to do?!

Looking around, you finally took notice how you were laid up in the infirmary. No one else was around to see your outburst and no one outside was alerted that you were awake, well, until you heard bustling footsteps coming right to the infirmary door.

Even though I don’t have amnesia, I’ll just have to fake it! I’m in no way an actor, but Jing Yuan has barely said two words to me since I got here, so I highly doubt he knows what I look like when I am lying! I’ll just have to take the chance and fake it till I make it!

Hurriedly, you laid back down and tried to straighten out your sheets before closing your eyes. It was a dangerous game that you decided to play, but you wanted out of here. You already threw yourself down the stairs, faking amnesia should be easy compared to that. (Though, you were still a bit angry that the amnesia thing didn’t actually happen…)

And just as you calmed your racing heart and turbulent thoughts, the infirmary door was slammed open, “where is she?!”

You couldn’t stop your eyebrows from furrowing at the sound of Jing Yuan’s voice. You didn’t expect him to be the one to be waltzing in here.

“She’s over here, Your Highness.”

You had to force your eyes from popping open. That voice was unmistakenly Blade’s. But how was he that close to you? Was he in the room this whole time?! Did you just not notice him?!

Jing Yuan walked over to where Blade was, “have you been guarding her this whole time?”

“I have.”

You died a little on the inside. Your soul shriveling up as the seconds passed. This is unbelievable! Out of all the times you don’t notice Blade being in the same room as you and NOW is one of those times.

“Has she woken up at all?”

Jing Yuan turned his gaze to you, and you tried your best not to quiver in your bed. Since Blade most definitely saw you wake up and shoot out of your bed in a panic, then he will definitely tell the Emperor that-

“No, she hasn’t.”

If you weren’t trying to act like you were sleeping, you would have given him the most bewildered look imaginable. Blade. Emperor Jing Yuan’s right-hand man and general. Just lied.

You felt a light yet firm hand caress your face, calloused fingers gently moving strands of hair out of your face, “I see,” Jing Yuan muttered, “well, when she wakes up. Please have someone inform me but stay by her side.”

“Understood.”

You thought that was the end of it, but immediately felt a pair of lips press against your forehead before the presence was gone altogether and you heard a door closed.

“You can open your eyes now, princess.”

Cracking your eyes open you were met with Blade crossing his arms over his chest, “care to explain yourself.”

It wasn’t a question, but more of a demand.

You sat up whilst grabbing your sheets again, “I…I wanted to get out of this arranged marriage. So I thought if I got amnesia then I could leave and go back home.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

You frowned, “terrible. I didn’t get amnesia. Instead, I’m hurting all over. Which reminds me, why did you lie back there? You obviously saw me wake up and panic.”

Blade shrugged, “I wanted to know what you were up to. Besides, I’m not the only one who saw you.”

“What do you mean?”

“During your little staged incident, the one who caught you before you could tumble down even more stairs was Dan Heng.”

“He told me he saw the whole thing. How you perfectly timed the maids, to how you fell, and how you tumbled down the stairs. He said it all looked intentional.”

Dan Heng, also known as Imbibitor Lunae, was even more dangerous than Jing Yuan. He was a high elder and a Vidyadhara. Not much else is known about him, but apparently he is a great strategist who can take down anyone and was praised many times by Jing Yuan himself.

“Great…,” you muttered as you let your head fall. Your eyes staring holes into your hands as you tried to come up with a solution of what to do. Your plan was falling apart before it even began it seemed.

“Great indeed.”

You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt Blade take a hold of your chin, his fingers gripping onto your cheeks as he forcefully made you look up at him. You didn’t even hear him move.

“So since it seems your great plan is falling apart, I and Dan Heng would like to make a deal with you. It’s quite simple that even someone like you would be able to do it.”

You didn’t like where this was going one bit.

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lucyandalexiafan · 7 months

Text

I’m scared | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

Summary: after yet another attempt to pretend to want to have sex with Alexia, the blonde tries to understand why you don't tell her that you don't want to have sex with her and why you are so scared every time she touches you.

Warnings: angst. This work is talking about past sexual abuses (not in a detailed way, but to explain why reader doesn’t want to have sex with ale), so if it’s trigger don’t read, please. Fluff in the end (?).

Words: 3k

I tried to write with “you” to refer to reader, i don’t know if I did it in the right way but I wanted to try to write in this way; as usually, if something is wrong, say it and I’ll correct.

I’m really emotive involved in this work, so pls be kind and respectful 🫶🏻

This is part one of this ask: ask

You and Alexia are walking.

The weather is perfect: clear sky, the sun that warms despite the winter cold.

The dirt road without potholes.

There is no one but you two.

The pace of the walk is slow.

Calm.

There's no hurry.

Barcelona is on your right, veiled in the January fog.

You're walking her favorite trail, but Alexia hasn't explained to you why she asked you to take this walk on a Sunday after lunch.

The blonde had asked you if you would like to go with her to a Barça under 11 girls' match where she was supposed to be present, and then eat at the sports center; at the end of it all, while you were in the car, she asked you to take that walk.

You nodded, smiling, even though an unfamiliar feeling was invading your body.

She had been weird since this morning.

Cold.

Thoughtful.

You bite your lip while you kick some pebbles.

You tried to make conversation a couple of times and she always ended any dialogue in its tracks.

She has her hands stuffed into the pockets of her blue jacket.

Her hair loose.

Her forehead is decorated, every now and then, with wrinkles.

Her lips closed in a line.

She looks older today.

More tired.

Today there is no trace of the woman who looks five years younger.

Is it your fault?

Did you do something?

She runs a hand through her hair and tucks a tuft behind her ear.

Her posture is rigid.

She smiled less today.

She sought less contact than usual.

She is weird.

She swallows her saliva in an attempt to ward off that anxiety.

You are also relatively distant on a physical level.

She opens her mouth a couple of times to speak.

And, when she doesn't say anything, she pretends it's to sigh.

Should you ask her?

Speak?

But she cut off every attempt to do it before.

Maybe she's sad, or something happened and she just wants to stay quiet. After all, many times you have been quiet, at her house or while walking around Barcelona, and she says that she likes it.

That she feels comfortable with you in silence.

But she looks so uncomfortable today.

She takes a deep breath.

“I have to ask you something,” she announces.

You look at her.

She is serious.

No smile.

Her lips are a flat line.

She doesn't turn to look for you, her eyes fixed on the road.

You invite her to continue.

You scratch your forearm nervously.

What's taking her so long?

What should she ask?

What did she do?

What have you done?

“But I would like you to be honest”

You nod.

What happened?

Why all this preamble?

Usually, it's you who does it, who makes a thousand assumptions.

“Why do you pretend to want to have sex when you don't want to have it?”

You stop, frozen.

The hand that was scratching the forearm is still, the nails still in contact with the skin.

She closes her eyes.

Her voice is neutral.

But is she mad?

Disappointed?

She turns to look at you.

Your head is bowed, your position is arched, your shoulders forward.

She stands straight, rigid.

"You did it last night too - she sighs - Last night too you tried to pretend and I think it's the fifth or sixth time in the last month"

You swallow the saliva.

“I want to understand why you don't tell me that you don't want to have sex - she stops for a moment - It's not a problem if you don't want to, but you have to tell me, do you understand me?”

You nod uncertainly.

How did she understand it?

What can you tell her?

From her voice, she sounds more worried than mad.

She closes her eyes.

It's true what she said.

During the last month, you have pretended to want to have sex several times.

Then, each time, she interrupted the attempt.

She laid next to you.

She kissed you.

She rested her arm on your hip or belly.

And she closed her eyes.

You clench your jaw.

"I…"

“Look at me, please”

Is it urgency?

It doesn't sound like a reproach, an order.

But more of a request.

You would like to deny it, to say that it's not true.

Say that she's lying.

But what's the point of it?

She understood it.

She understood that there is something.

And if she's talking about it, for how long had she thought about it?

Does it make sense to deny it?

Lie?

Telling lies to cover up something so obvious?

“I… I… - you sigh - I'm scared”

You whisper.

Your voice weak, maybe overwhelmed by the breeze.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation, shame.

"About what? What are you afraid of?"

Did she really not understand or does she want you to say it?

She always understands everything about you.

It's like you're predictable with her, it doesn't matter if you've been dating for more or less four months, camps and games aside, she always understands.

Does she have any ideas?

Maybe she hopes this isn't what it is.

Maybe she wants an excuse to dump you.

“That you… that you do it even if I don't want to”

She asks you what it means.

What does she think of you now?

What does she think of this unhealthy fear?

You point your gaze at the panorama.

You stare at a flock of birds.

They move haphazardly, as your thoughts.

“I almost got raped by my ex-boyfriend - you close your eyes - He gaslighted me… he said it was my fault if we didn't have sex, that if I hadn't had it I would never have felt ready, that I was ungrateful because he also thought to my pleasure"

You sigh.

You put your hand on your eyes.

You wrinkle them.

You are trembling.

What will she think of you now?

What will she think of you after she finds out?

“One night I had to sleep at his house and… he tried to penetrate me several times - a sob escape from your lips - He said that I had to stay still, that nothing would happen”

You never talk about it.

Never.

To nobody.

Three or four people know.

You are so ashamed of yourself.

You know that it was not your fault, that you don't have to feel that guilt, but you can't do other than feel it.

It happened years ago but it is as fresh in your mind.

“He also did it two nights later, when I was forced to stay at his house because I was quite ill and unable to come back home with my bike”

All you need is one wrong touch and you remember him.

You remember that moment.

That scene.

You relive it endlessly.

Relive that fear.

That terror.

That rejection.

That trying not to think of the worst.

That cry when, months later, you understood that what had happened wasn't normal.

“I… I risked losing my virginity through rape”

A whisper.

A faint, insecure phrase interrupted by panting.

The trembling voice.

“He did so much gaslighting that he ended up dumping me because we weren't having sex and telling me it was my fault – you swallow your saliva – But before dumping me he tried several times to do it, to penetrate me”

You sigh a couple of times.

She is silent.

You don't dare look at her.

You don't want to see the look on her face.

You bite your lip.

“I... I know you won't do it, really - you sigh - But subconsciously I'm afraid that you'll break up with me if we don't do it and I try to convince myself that it's what I want”

You mess up your hair.

You pull the sleeves of your shirt up and down several times, nervously.

“I'm afraid you'll get bored of me if we don't do this or that-”

You close your eyes.

Will she hate you if you say it?

What will she think?

Will she scream?

Will she hit you?

Will she insult you?

Or maybe she will go away.

She will return to the car with the idea of returning home without you and never seeing you again.

She doesn't speak.

Why doesn't she speak?

“Subconsciously I'm afraid that you... that you'll do it anyway - you sigh, your voice broken by the crying that threatens to start - that you'll fuck me anyway, so I try to convince myself that I want it. So... so if-if you do it maybe-maybe I'll live it better"

The tears that flow.

If she dumped you, you would understand.

On the one hand, you don't satisfy her.

You are full of trauma.

You can't even have sex when she wants.

On the other hand, you defined her as a possible rapist.

Cruel, that you think only of yourself.

“I know you wouldn't do it, really - you add urgently, the fear that she will interrupt you - But subconsciously I'm afraid of it”

You hug yourself.

As to protect yourself.

As if to ward off any sort of reaction.

"Why did not you tell me?"

Is it sadness?

Penalty?

Compassion?

You shake your head.

“What did I have to tell you? - the sarcastic tone - That I'm subconsciously afraid that you're a rapist because the first one I did something with almost raped me? That for everything I have one trauma that might annoy you?”

You clench your jaw.

You laugh sardonically.

“Romantic as a conversation to have after a few months of dating”

There is a pause.

You don't look at her.

Why doesn't she scream?

Why doesn't she hit you?

Why doesn't she react?

“Have I ever done anything when you were pretending?”

You shake your head nervously.

Quickly.

"No. Never - you giggle nervously - You always understood somehow”

“But we almost had sex that night. I touched you"

You nod. “I wanted it, that evening”

She sighs.

Her eyes stained with pity, with compassion.

"Why did not you tell me? - you don't answer - Little one, I would never get mad if you didn't want to have sex with me"

She's not sincere.

It is not true.

She's lying.

How can she not get mad?

“It's just that every time I want to have sex you seem to want it and I try, and then sometimes in you change... I feel you change - she shakes her head - I would never do anything to you that you don't want, little one, but you have to tell me”

Why can't you believe she's sincere?

You have too many problems.

Too much anxiety.

Too many traumas.

Why can't you trust her?

“I'm scared,” you whisper.

You're really afraid that the woman you're falling in love with will rape you.

That will abuse you.

To convince you that it's your fault.

That you wanted it.

Would you really be able to walk away, to escape, if she did that?

“It's true that you stopped those times, but if I told you in the meantime, how would you take it? - you shake your head, tears falling to the ground - I'm afraid that you will hurt me like everyone else has always done"

She doesn't say a word.

You sob.

You gasp.

“I know you wouldn't do it, really... but I'm afraid that you would hit me or yell at me or that I would disappoint you - you sniff - I don't want this relationship to end because I only have traumas and I only cause problems”

“Baby, I will never hurt you because you don't want to have sex, ever”

You shake your head.

The tears falling to the ground.

The chest is invaded by contractions.

“I know, really… but when we're there I have an irrational fear that you will - you wipe your eyes - I know it doesn't make sense, but it's as if that fear comes over me”

She doesn't come close.

She doesn't move.

She is still.

You look at her.

The wrinkles on the forehead are more noticeable.

The mouth is a thin line.

Did you disappoint her?

Is she exhausted by you?

“It's like those times I can't control myself”

The tears that run relentlessly down your cheeks.

You open and close your eyes several times waiting for them to go away, let them disappear.

Admitting it, it hurts.

It burns the chest and inflames the sense of guilt.

Saying it out loud is a stab.

“Have you told anyone about this? A psychologist”

You shake your head quickly.

“No, never… I… in the end, it's just how I saw it, you know?"

You feel so humiliated.

Stupid.

Pathetic.

“And then he hasn't completely done it, so it doesn't make sense that I feel so bad. In the end... in the end, it's nothing, it's me who exaggerates"

“Baby, he almost raped you - you lament at the word - Amor it's not a normal thing, it's not a small thing. Don't deny what he did or try to justify it."

You shake your head.

“I'm not saying it is, but that... it's not serious enough”

“Baby yesterday you got scared when I touched your hip while I was kissing you - you look at her suddenly - You reflexively moved exactly like at the beginning when you were scared I would hit you”

You close your eyes.

“And it's not the reflex you have when you get scared because you don't hear me entering in the kitchen while you're cooking, it was fear. I saw that light of fear in your eyes for a few moments"

“I… please, sorry”

The nausea that invades your body.

You feel so guilty.

So wrong.

So stupid.

Why can't you enjoy something?

Did she feel guilty because of you?

Did you make her suffer?

Did you hurt her?

“Baby, don't apologize, please - she sighs, as she tries to get closer - It's not your fault”

Take a step back.

“But it is! - you almost scream - I'm the one who can't have sex with you, you're not him!”

Your chest rises and falls quickly.

You gasp.

You're out of breath.

You hate screaming.

To lose control.

But you don't like talking about the topic and you're afraid that she will use your words to leave, to look for someone better than you.

“Little one, this is a trauma independent of the person in front of you”

There is silence.

You do not answer.

What should you say?

You are standing still, a few steps away.

“I… I understand if you want to leave me - you hesitate - If… if I'm too full of problems, if you want someone easier…”

You leave the sentence halfway.

You hope she completes it.

But she doesn't.

She doesn't say anything.

She doesn't say a word.

“Amor, it's not a problem if you don't feel like having sex with me, either when you're scared or normally, really - you look at her - But you have to tell me because only then can I understand and not hurt you”

The tears that continue to flow from your eyes.

“Baby, I don't want to break up with you, least of all for this reason. I just want to understand."

She moves closer to you.

You lower your head, shrug your shoulders.

Does she want to hit you?

Does she want to hurt you?

The truth is, you wouldn't stop her.

You wouldn't stop her from hitting you.

After all, why shouldn't she?

“Seriously baby, I don't want to break up with you or hurt you… I just wanted to understand - she sighs - So we can act consequently, so I can help you”

How long did she think about it?

How much time did you steal from her?

You drag your hands down your pants.

Why is she so nice to you?

Why is she so normal?

So emotive available?

She hugs you.

You rest your head on her shoulder, you close your eyes.

You breathe her scent.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry” you say it over and over again.

Her hand runs down your back in a steady motion.

Relaxing.

Consolatory.

“I'm sorry,” you sob.

“Why don't we do something? - she asks you when she moves away from your body - Next time you will take the initiative - "

“No, no please no” you whisper interrupting her, looking at her scared.

Eyes more open than usual.

The vision blurred with tears.

“Baby, I don't want to force you, I want you to understand that I don't want to hurt you, that I can wait”

“But I know!” You interrupt her urgently.

With fear.

“Baby I want it to come from you, I want you to understand that we don't have to have sex every time we see each other. It's normal not to want it if you don't feel ready for it, if we do other things than sex"

You look down.

“It's really normal baby - she pauses - It's normal not to want to have sex when you don't feel like it”

“But… but what if you and I… what if after doing it I don't want to do it for a while, I don't feel ready for it?”

“Baby it's normal, it happens to everyone - she stops, places her hand under your chin, applying pressure to be looked at - Even more so in this situation”

Is she sincere?

Do you seriously think so?

“I'm just afraid that you won't want me anymore”

“Baby, I'm in love with you for the person you are, not for the sex”

You look at her.

Her eyes are wide.

Is she in love with you?

She smiles embarrassed.

Shy.

She is - is she really...

In love.

You smile through your tears.

You look at her in disbelief.

Did she really say that?

She has that sly smile on her face, that smile that she made you fall in love with.

She won't hurt you.

At least her, her won't hurt you.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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star-girl69 · 2 months

Text

giving the people what they want 🙏

warnings: ofc swearing and yes we get VERY freaky yet AGAIN, y/n refers to herself as kk’s controversially young gf bc i think it’s funny, deal w it

—-

you: babe we should do this trend

kk: yes come over

kk: don’t even have to film it i’ll do it for free

you: i know u wanna kiss me 💋

kk: i think that’s obvious

you: no it’s a tik tok sound

kk: ok great come over and kiss me

you: ok… calm down… i’m coming

kk: really???

you: what is wrong with u.

kk: i’m sorry plz forgive me ma’am

—-

you: come over

kk: yes i’m omw

you: amazing response time btw

—-

YOU: WHWN THEY CALLED OFF THE CIRCUS BURNED THR DISCO DOWN WHEN THEY SENT HOME THE HORSED AND THE RODEO CLOWNS IM STILL OM THAT TIGHTROPE IM STILL TRYING EVERYTHING TO GET U LAUGHINF AT ME AND IM STILK A BELIEVER BUT I DONT KNOW WHY IVE NEVER BEEN A NATURAL ALL I DO IS TRY TRY TRY IM STILL ON THAT TRAPEZE IM STILK TRYING EVERYTHING TO KEEP U LOOKING AF ME

kk: is this taylor swift?

you: omg u got it right?? i’m so proud ❤️

kk: i learned from the best 💪

—-

you: why do u have no food in ur apartment

kk: ?? we have food

you: literally here rn and u don’t

kk: me and laila went shopping yesterday babe

you: *laila and i

kk: same thing

kk: i’m sure u can find something

you: i cant and im starving

kk: baby there’s food

you: i’m never eating again bye

you: i hate u healthy freaks

you: buy potato chips like normal ppl

kk: okay baby

…

you: i was hangry im sorry

kk: i figured 😂 no worries babe

kk: did u eat?

you: yes i had to doordash tho

kk: 🙄

—-

kk: i love u

you: PLEASE DONT KYS

kk: what????

you: i’m sorry it’s an automatic response

you: i love u too ❤️

kk: u confuse me sometimes

you: then i’m succeeding at being ur controversially young gf who’s references u don’t understand 🫡

—-

you: do u hate me?

kk: no ofc not

you: are u sure?

kk: yes i’m sure where is this coming from babe?

you: u let go of my hand earlier ☹️

kk: babe are u fr rn?

you: bye u hate me ok i’ll just see myself out

kk: and i’ll just drag u right back in bc i don’t hate u

kk: when did i even let go of ur hand?

you: when u were adjusting the bags ☹️

kk: ok so

kk: i let go of ur hand for one second to adjust the shopping bags i was carrying for u and u think i hate u?

you: yes exactly

you: do u?

kk: i love u my very clingy girl 😂

—-

kk: what is aura?

you: like aura points or the actual metaphysical thing

you: pls use it in a sentence

kk: “this dance is giving u negative aura points”

you: ok translation: doing this dance makes u look like a fucking loser

you: basically it’s like coolness

you: like if i tell someone “outfit gives u +1000 aura points” i’m basically saying like ur fit ate

kk: oh i see

kk: thank u baby

you: controversially young gf to the rescue 🫡

kk: u do realize ur not that much younger than me right

kk: like it’s not controversial

you: can u let me have this.

kk: okay baby ur my controversially young gf

you: thank u very much ❤️

—-

you: stop cheating on me.

kk: excuse me?

kk: i’m literally standing across from u. we’re in the same room right now

you: tell that bitch to back off before i do

kk: are u jealous?

you: obviously not. come here now

you: please

kk: yes ma’am

kk: i don’t even know who ur talking about btw

you: the blonde?

kk: i was genuinely too busy looking at u to notice

—-

you: omg this is so us.

kk: it’s a deer and a raccoon??

you: u just don’t get it…

kk: what is there to get

you: see the deer is me and u are the raccoon and the raccoon is hugging and kissing the deer

you: bc like ur so clingy

kk: unfortunately that makes sense

—-

you: i miss you

kk: yeah baby?

you: please come over

kk: i cant rn babe

you: please baby i miss u so muchhhh

kk: i’m sorryyyy sweetheart

kk: i’ll see what i can do but probably in an hour yeah?

you: that’s too long

you: come over now

kk: i’m sorry babe i cant

you: please caroline

you: i need you

kk: 30 mins

you: i need u really badly though…

kk: 20 minutes i promise

you: caroline please i really really need u rn

you: u know where i need u

kk: be there in 5

—-

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader

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starstruckmoony · 1 month

Text

so high school.

masterlist

pairing - james potter x reader

summary - that one cute nerdy guy from your lectures gives you a follow and you end up actually falling for him.

trope/tags - modern!au, uni/college!au, instagram/social media!au, fluff, terrible humor

word count - 704

warnings - language, suggestive jokes

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

prongsyboy

❤️ liked by yourusername, pandorasbox, marymacdonald and 167 others

prongsyboy me and remussy

tagged rjlupin

10 comments

yourusername adding ussy to things is not cool anymore btw!!

prongsyboy what do YOU know about cool

yourusername clearly more than you do

rjlupin tf when was this taken????

starmanblack ...yesterday

starmanblack you two were so cute i couldn’t resist 😔

mmmckinnon remus looks sooooo happy to be there

lily_evans my two favourite boys 🥹

starmanblack bit rude innit petey?

pete___ no words...

yourusername

❤️ liked by lily_evans, xeno_lovegood, starmanblack and 181 others

yourusername he said i remind him of the first line from robbers

12 comments

prongsyboy he was so right

yourusername even got himself a mention

prongsyboy lucky bloke

prongsyboy you also remind him of fallingforyou

yourusername i think he told me that already

prongsyboy and he'll tell you again

r.a.black of course he likes the 1975

bartyyy bratty healy reference?

ev.rosier i got told that by a man once

yourusername and then you slept with him!

bartyyy GOT GAME EYYYY 😈

prongsyboy added to their story

yourusername

❤️ liked by r.a.black, rjlupin, marymacdonald and 174 others

yourusername freaky

13 comments

prongsyboy day ruined

yourusername excuse you?

prongsyboy i just had some plans 🙄

yourusername 😏

prongsyboy 😏

prongsyboy i'd have stolen that and put it on my wall for decoration

yourusername like that room 69 sign you stole from uni?

prongsyboy AYOOOO DON'T TELL THEM THAT

mmmckinnon is that there cause of me?

yourusername @/casmeadowes

casmeadowes i wanna be excluded from this narrative

bartyyy FUCK

starmanblack NO

prongsyboy

❤️ liked by ev.rosier, casmeadowes, euphemiapotter and 183 others

prongsyboy roadtripppppp

tagged yourusername

13 comments

yourusername not the soggy chips

prongsyboy but i like them soggy 🤤

yourusername kys

yourusername nice sweater

prongsyboy thanks i got it from that girl who reminds me of i'm in love with you by the 1975

yourusername STOPPP

prongsyboy NEVER

starmanblack always so cute

starmanblack hottest best friend ever

starmanblack @/yourusername when am i getting him back

yourusername have a nice day!

vance_emm i'm just here for the comments atp

pandorasbox keeping us fed

yourusername added to their story

prongsyboy

❤️ liked by vance_emm, r.a.black, mmmckinnon and 200 others

prongsyboy robbers intro?

tagged yourusername

14 comments

yourusername hello! why am i being tagged?

prongsyboy because you're you

yourusername you're kinda pretty

prongsyboy this isn't about me

starmanblack OMG ROCKSTAR BF???

starmanblack SOOO TALENTED

starmanblack husband

rjlupin CUT IT OUT

prongsyboy LMAOAOA

marymacdonald @/yourusername marry that

ev.rosier starting to understand y/n...

yourusername back off my man rosier smh you've got your own 🙄

bartyyy i can't play him robbers tho 😔

ev.rosier SEE?

bartyyy added to their story

yourusername

❤️ liked by euphemiapotter, rjlupin, lily_evans and 226 others

yourusername him.

tagged prongsyboy

17 comments

prongsyboy ME?

yourusername YOU!

prongsyboy ❤️

yourusername ❤️

prongsyboy think my mum approves

yourusername she actually told me that behind your back!

prongsyboy HUUUUUH

ev.rosier cute.

bartyyy RAAAAAHHHH HOW SWEET EW EW EW 😍🤮🥰🤢🥹

mmmckinnon SICK of you two

r.a.black tell me about it

starmanblack fuck off haters smh

pete___ prongs won

starmanblack keep him extra safe pls thank you

rjlupin emphasis on extra

xeno_lovegood congratulations!

marymacdonald cuties 🫶

prongsyboy added to their story

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venusdayo · 6 months

Text

The gender of the person that Teru likes and the wrong translation in this scene, a really small analysis:

(Reuploaded here bc a month ago I uploaded it to Twitter and no one saw it... )

Okay, all of this investigation started bc I asked myself “what if teru actually likes aoi (girl)” And this scene came to my mind, i didn’t remember what he exactly said (about if was a girl) so i rewatched it after. If you want the short answer is no, teru doesn’t mention gender.

If you want the explication, read this post (pls this took me like two hours to investigate )

Let’s begin with the dubbed scene, where he says “her” referencing that hes crush is a girl. I almost added the subtitled scene but I didn’t bc it says the same lol

So, I went to the manga, if i was correct, i remembered that he never said the gender/ pronouns, and I was right

I could have confirmed that, but I wasn't convinced. What if the MANGA was poorly translated?

So, i went to the raws panels.

“But Venus! I don’t speak Japanese, what says there?” If you translate ぃ僕好きな子がぃるんだ on google, the first option is “there’s a girl I like” but ALSO shows up the option “there’s someone I like”

"but it is implied that is a girl, otherwise It would give the option of "there is a boy that I like"" be patient my little friend, let me explain you:

I started to investigate deeply the kanjis, conjugations and things like that, after a while I learned what I am going to tell you and now I understand why it is simplified to the feminine gender

The translation of ぃ僕好きな子がぃるんだ depends on the context and the tone of the phrase. In general, it can be translated as “there’s a girl I like” or “there’s someone I like”, but it can also have other meanings

According to the DeepL dictionary, “ 僕”is an informal and affectionate way of saying “I” or “me”, which is mainly used by young men. 好きな子 means “child/person I like”, and does not specify the gender of the person.

ぃるんだ is a colloquial way of saying “there is” or “there are”, which expresses emphasis or confession.

Therefore, the phrase could express the feeling of a boy who likes a girl, or a girl who likes a boy, or a person who likes another person regardless of gender

So, in the translation (anime dub and sub) it refers to a girl bc the "僕" (mostly used by young men,who teru is ) and the 好きな子 which refers to liking someone, it can be assumed that it refers to a girl because of the assumed heterosexuality, you know lol

it is never confirmed that “them” is a GIRL, the gender is never mentioned, so there are chances that the person he likes is not a girl. Obviously them could be one, I don't deny it, but it also doesn't rule out the possibility that Teru being queer.

Conclusion: the manga in English is well translated but not the anime, the person Teru likes can be either a boy or a girl. End of explication.

And if you're wondering, could I find the answer to the initial question? Well no, but it reduces the options for Aoi to be who he likes, since it doesn't boil down to her just being a girl, which leaves other options.

But then who could be the person Teru likes? Well, I don't know, but I could make a thread theorizing about it.

*cought* *cought* 𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓃𝑒 *cought* *cought*

#teru minamoto #tbhk #tbhk teru #terukane #minamoto teru #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk analysis

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fariesoiree · 9 months

Text

it’s completely normal to have a disagreement with your boyfriend but hobie cannot understand why you’d resort to the silent treatment.

caution! mdni 4.5k wrdz, angst to smut pipeline, brat reader, oral ( r. receiving ), fingering ( r. receiving ) pet names, gwen makes an appearance, hobie smokes weed reference, partially unedited pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

you’re not entirely sure how it happened. or rather, you’re just not ready to admit it, yet. you suppose it really started before you met up with hobie, having woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

everything pissed you off today. the way the outfit you planned looked terrible on you, showing up late to class, getting yelled at by customers at work. every event just piled right on top of each other and made you feel a thousand times worse.

you only made it halfway through the day before a grimace etched itself on your face and your words became short and curt.

the cherry on top was when you planned to lay in the comfort of your bed, only to find yourself whisked away to hobie’s houseboat.

he seemed so happy with his proposition for you to meet a friend of his who just happened to be in town. you couldn’t say no despite so desperately wanting to. when would there ever be a chance that his friend would be back and he’d be this happy to tell you?

and with your terrible mood, your usual demeanor was replaced with something much colder. instead of engaging in the conversation between hobie and gwen, you sit silently in the corner.

your knees are pulled into your chest and you fiddle with the seams of your socks. each sonorous laugh has your teeth grinding. you haven’t uttered much more than a few sentences, wondering when you’re going to be able to make your escape back home.

you miss hobie’s curious peeks. it’s so blaringly obvious that you’re not feeling like yourself. if your silence didn’t give it away, your lack of affection definitely did.

you didn’t squeeze him tight in a hug the moment he showed up at your door. there was no rambling of your day, no kisses and giggles that follow. all the usual bits he loves and look forward to never came and on top of that, he gets the odd feeling you’ve been avoiding his touch since you got there. it makes his stomach twist in knots.

“gwendy,” he says with his eyes darting towards you.

you’re oblivious, nails scraping against the divets and curves in the fabric of his small sofa.

“i’m off to get a drink. want somethin’?”

“i’m good. thanks, though, hobes.” gwen shakes her head with a smile. she’s also just as clueless. having this being her first time meeting you, she just assumes you’re always like this and there’s nothing wrong with being quiet, albeit the way you do it makes her feel a bit uncomfortable.

you press your lips into your knees to hide your scoff. “ ‘hobes’,” you mouth, picking at a thread. it’s such a minuscule detail, one that you’ve repeated overlooked in the past. never has it been anything but a friendly nickname but in your miffed state, it’s a sign of betrayal.

hobie doesn’t need a sixth sense to know there’s an obscure issue. he’s known you long enough to know when you’re irked and how he has to force it out of you.

for your sake and not wanting to draw attention to the situation, he strolls into the kitchen. his slides scrape against the floor. the sound is like nails on a chalkboard and has your face scrunching up.

with just you and gwen left, the silence is deafening. most of the conversation had been with hobie and nothing changed your unwillingness to talk. still, gwen felt the need to try. whether she wanted to relate to another girl or make a good impression is unknown.

“so . . . you and hobie, huh?”

you consider ignoring her but guilt blooms across your skin. even if your worst mood, a small remnant of your manners remain. not enough to make you pleasant, though. “mhm.” you hum, not bothering to look in her direction.

next to you, your phone vibrates to reveal a text. you sit up just enough to lean over it and the screen unlocks after recognizing your face. you’re not dumbfounded that it’s the topic of the conversation himself, requesting your presence.

at some point he’d say something, that you know. doesn’t exactly make you feel any better about it. “i’ll be back,” you mumble, legs unfolding until you’re standing.

you’re not looking forward to the upcoming conversations but you shuffle forward, regardless. your arms are already crossed when you stand in front of him. this is the first time you’re truly looking at him since you got here and your expression is so frigid.

“what’s up with you?” hobie leans against the counter, his arms crossed and mirroring yours. “been pissy all day.”

you know he’s seriously waiting for an answer when he’s unaffected by the eye rolls that follow. “nothing’s wrong. i’m not anything.”

“you’re really goin’ to stand there and tell me there’s nothin’ goin’ on when you’re actin’ like that? come out of it.”

you dodge his narrowing gaze by staring at the kitchen sink instead. your lips are pressed together and your thoughts move at a hundred miles an hour, searching for the perfect method to dissipate this conversation. “i’m fine. there’s nothing going on.”

“then that’s worse,” hobie eyes you down. it makes you feel small, the way his head is tilted and bordering a correctional glare. “then you’re jus’ being mean for no reason.”

“i’m not being mean. i just don’t feel like talking.” it’s not completely a lie. you don’t feel like talking, that’s true, but you’ve also purposefully been abhorrent so you’d have an excuse to leave.

he looks at you incredulously, scrambling to stand and motioning towards gwen’s direction. “you’re not being mean? so you haven’t said a word to gwen and barely two words to me because you ‘don’t feel like talking’.”

“yes. exactly.” you can already tell this isn’t going to end well. not with the way your chest burns with an angry fire. “that’s what i just said.”

hobie feels like he’s talking to a wall with the way you dismiss everything he says. “darlin’, i’m really, really trying not to cause a scene right now but you’re makin’ it harder than it needs to be.” with a hand on your shoulder, he guides you farther back into the kitchen. his patience is wavering, he can feel it. it’s becoming progressively more difficult to maintain his cool. “it doesn’t take fuckin’ einstein to know there’s somethin’ up.”

“you’re trying not to make a scene but you just cussed at me.” you grumble, dragging your feet until you’re stationed next to the glass door.

“i did not – ” he has to stop and take a breath, noticing the crescendo in his voice. “ ☆ , what is wrong with you? your mood is poor and you aren’t even speaking to gwen, which is the whole reason i wanted you to come.”

you glare off the porch, watching the water lap and crash against each other. between everything he said, all you got is he’s prioritizing another girl over you. in your spoiled brain, he should never be scolding you about this. “oh, i’m sorry if i’m making you and gwendy uncomfortable. maybe it would be best if i go.”

“do not do that.” he points at you, thumb facing the ceiling. “do not turn this into something it isn’t.” his restraint officially snapped, words dripping with venom. “everyone is being nothing but nice. you’re the only one here that has an issue. i only asked you what’s wrong because i care about you. stop acting like a – ” hobie pauses again, eyes closing in frustration. “whatever. i’m over it. do what you want.” he waves it off and turns on his heel. he would have considered that a win, had you not stopped him.

“no, say it. call me what you were going to call me.” you dart in front of him, hands on your hips. you should have stopped, let the argument vanish into nothing but you couldn’t help yourself. you had already committed yourself to it.

“just let it go.” hobie attempts to side step you, only for you to stand in front of him again. he has no interest in playing your games so he waits at a standstill. “i don’t want to hurt your feelings and i don’t want to argue. let it go, ☆ .”

“say it,” you insist. you have your head tilted up, basically pressed all up against him. you’re daring him, as if he won’t do it and you don’t expect him to. not once can you remember hobie ever calling you anything but endearing names.

he sucks his teeth and takes a step away from you. you’re unhinged, he decides. daily stress has finally gotten to you and you’ve gone off the rails. “i’m going to say this once and i mean this when i say it. you need to go the fuck home and get your shit together. honestly, love, this is unacceptable and i’m not takin’ this disrespect in my house.”

you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home a while before this but you wanted to go on your own accord. you weren’t supposed to go back and forth like this and he wasn’t supposed to kick you out. “you’re joking, right? hobie, you brought me here. how am i supposed to get home?”

it’s a well known fact that hobie prefers to take the unconventional routes. he’d rather swing than walk and walk than drive. even when it comes to you, he’s always willing to be your transportation so you aren’t driving or being driven around. so when he pulls out his phone and promptly sends you enough money to get an Uber, it truly cements how sincere he is. “go home, lovely. i’ll come by later and we can try this again.”

“ ‘bie,” you sniffle, eyes welling with tears. not only is he kicking you out but he’s also sending you home.

“go home,” he repeats. his parting gift is a pat on the head before he walks past you. you’re unsure whether or not he really saw how distraught you felt but you doubt it would make a difference.

you’re too embarrassed to show your face so you take the back way, exiting through the porch by the kitchen. you circle the boat until reaching the dock and step off, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

it’s unbelievable that your sweet, darling hobie would do this to you. granted, you deserved it and technically got what you wanted.

still, you can’t stop your tears from flowing the whole way home, even up through the lobby of your apartment and into your room. the warmth of your bed is just as you imagined, although now bittersweet.

your eyes are puffy and hurting. you fight the urge to let them close and scroll through your phone. most of the reasoning behind was to see if hobie would text you at all but your notifications remained empty. it stings more than you imagined. he’s always always texted you to make sure you’ve gotten in your room safely.

“whatever,” you toss your phone onto the other side of the bed and roll over. “i don’t need you. enjoy your date with gwendy, hoe.” you mumble into your pillow. you huff, pulling the covers up to your chin. if hobie wants to be like that then fine. he can do what he wants.

LINE BREAK

you stir awake to the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut. you’d be worried if the familiar smell of pine and weed didn’t fill the air. it’s subtle but you know him too well to be wrong.

you reach for your phone, feeling around in the bed until the cool glass meets your palm. the bright screen reads midnight and entirely too far past his normal arrival time.

“you stink,” you mumble when he gets into bed beside you. he has his own bed but he’s so accustomed to you and your warmth, hobie can’t help but make his way to wherever you are.

“don’t kill my high.” his gruff whisper fills your ear. he slips his arm between you and the mattress to pull you into his chest. “sent gwen off and came here. didn’t have time to enjoy it, yet.”

you purse your lips, flashbacks of earlier in the day coming flooding in. your nap nearly wiped all those memories away. he just said to bring it up, again. and right on cue —

“feelin’ better?” he splays his over your tummy and brushes his thumb back and forth along your skin. “we can talk about it, again.”

you don’t respond, too busy feeling crossed. it would be best to reopen the discussion now that your emotions aren’t running as high but you’re too petty to do that. hobie wronged you. he started an argument and kicked you out. he didn’t even check to see if you made it home safe.

“lovey? you okay?” he taps his fingers against you. maybe you fell asleep on him.

nothing.

hobie sits up. you can feel his weight shift as he peers over your body. your eyes are open and he can see you looking at him, you’re just not speaking. he raises a brow and pushes your shoulder over until you’re on your back with a clear view of each other. “do you hear me talkin’ to you or what?”

he’s peeved when you roll over without even acknowledging him. “absolutely fuckin’ not.” he pushes your shoulder down again and holds it there. “you givin’ me the silent treatment?”

you shrug.

you fucking shrug.

hobie considers himself a rational person. if he’s upset, he’ll talk about it. if he’s not ready to talk about it, he’ll let you know. if he notices you’re too upset to communicate efficiently, he’ll give you space. what he will not tolerate is bullshit like this. you’re ignoring him, purposefully not saying anything and he’s expected to take it?

“i’m talkin’ to you.” he squishes your cheeks is his hand until they pucker, eyes narrowed into slits. he doesn’t know what your problem is but he’s sure if you continue like this, he’ll snap the world in half.

you pull away from him, reeling your head back until it’s out of his grasp. with you’re newfound freedom, you roll over and tap your phone. it’s now half past midnight and you’re losing hours on sleep.

hobie watches, enraged, as you slide it beside your pillow and snuggle deeper into the comfort of your bed. he doesn’t move, still processing his emotions. what he wants to do is pull you into his lap and keep you up all night until you speak to him but he figures it just make you more irritable.

so he scoffs and lays back down beside you. “okay. throw your tantrum. we’ll talk in the morning.” he pulls you into his chest, regardless, fingers curling around your waist. his lips are pressed together and by your ear.

he’s hopeful that in the morning, this mood you’re in will pass. that’s the notion he holds on to while he drifts off into his slumber and the same one he wakes up to when he’s reaching for your missing body.

the sun is up and beaming through the sheer layer of curtains. you must have opened the blackout layer behind them. he can hear the shower water running to a stop. hobie rubs his eyes and pulls his arm over his head for a stretch.

it’s a bit odd, he thinks, that you’ve woken up without him. he doesn’t think you’ve rolled over and pressed soft kisses on his face until he’s waking. maybe you did and he went back to sleep.

his legs carry himself into the bathroom where you reside. he’s operating off your normal schedule, getting ready together. he’s surprised when he turns the handle, only for it to fall short. “the door is locked, sweetheart.”

hobie leans against the frame. he’s tall enough to take up the entirety of the space. his hand comes up to rub his face once before he realizes the amount of time that’s passing right now. he can hear you in there, hear the water in the sink running but you don’t open the door.

his first thought it maybe you just can’t open it right now.

he, however, comes to his second thought when you do open it and scroll right past him without one glance in his direction.

you’re still ignoring him.

“oi duck, here’s what’s going to happen.” hobie knows you’re listening when you pause, hand freezing at the lotion pump. “i’m going to go brush my teeth, yeah? and you’re going to get over this thing you’re in and when i come back, we’re going to sit down and talk about this like adults.”

what he doesn’t know is the insinuation you’re not acting like an adult sends you farther into you stubbornness. to be truthful, he’s not wrong. you’re only doing this to make a point, to stick it to him that you didn’t appreciate what he did to you

you scoff to yourself and have a seat at your vanity. “who does he think he is?” you mumble, unscrewing the lid to your toner. “telling me what i’m gonna do. i’ll talk when i want to.”

you can see him in the mirror. with the bathroom door wide open, you get a perfect view of him slowly turning his head towards you, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

it dawns on you that he heard you when he’s hastily rinsing out his mouth. you jump to your feet so quickly, the chair nearly topples to the ground. you’re darting across the room on the way out.

you only make it halfway before a sticky web is wrapped around your waist and pulling you back to the center of the room.

“what’d you say, sweetheart?” hobie turns you around, hands planted firmly on your hips. his fingers dig into your skin as if ready to pull the answer out of you.

you persist with your silence even while your heart beats out of your chest. you avoid looking at him, instead staring at the the gleaming silver hoop pierced through his nose.

your refusal to say anything has him ticked off. you haven’t said a word to him since last night and the only time you’ve even acknowledged him is to talk shit.

hobie isn’t having that.

he doesn’t bother to ask you again. he picks you up easy, a hand wrapped around your waist. he considers himself to be patient, letting you have your fun. he didn’t say anything to you last night, he forgave you for trying to incite an argument, he was even giving you another chance and was willing to work through it.

it’s you who’s making it difficult, uncooperating like a unreasonable person. you won’t even tell him why. how is he supposed to mend the situation if he doesn’t know what the problem is?

“you’re pissin’ me off.” he drops you on the edge of the bed. his talk could be mistaken as directed towards you but in actuality, he’s ranting to himself. “so spoiled y’know? throwing a fit for no reason.”

you freeze when he hooks his fingers inside the waistband of your shorts. your instincts are screaming at you to whine and complain but your intransigency is too focused on making a point.

“i’m so gentle with you and you take me for granted. showed up mad and that’s my fault? should have just told me but that’s too much to ask.”

a sharp gasp is ripped from you when hobie rips your panties off you. the seams pop and snap under the stress of his rapid tug.

he pushes you back and down on the bed with a large hand on your chest. “to be frank, i don’t want to see you. i don’t want to hear you either unless you’re gonna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.”

you’re tempted to protest, already preparing to draw away from him but hobie beats you to it. he pins your waist down and peels your folds apart. he licks a stripe up your cunt, spit dribbling and mixing with your juices.

you keen, back lifting off your bed. it’s sickening how his knowledge of your body is affecting you this time. usually, it would entail the best orgasm of your life but now it meant you’d be eternally suffering.

he pushes your back down with a grunt. it’s as if every little movement you did only sent hobie father off the edge.

he pushes your leg up by the underside of your thigh until your knee is pressing against your chest. hobie’s nose bumps against your clit and his tongue probs at the walls of your slit.

“fuck! that’s so – ” your scream is cut short by a gulp of air. your hand reaches down to grasp hobie’s wicks, only for him to swat you hand away.

you cum rather quickly, pussy throbbing from the stimulation. by the time you’re sitting up, hobie is staring at you with half lidded eyes. he has yet to remove his grip, lips glistening from your arousal.

neither of you speak, the air growing thicker with tension. your gaze darts between both of hobie’s peering brown eyes before you turn your head away with a huff.

the smack of hobie’s hand against your thigh rings in the air. his demands for your attention has you whining. your skin blooms with a stinging pain, only for it to be followed by another. you’re not moving fast enough for him.

only when your eyes lock does he lightly trace his fingers over your skin. hobie, however, has no plans in letting up with his lesson. he thumbs at the hood of your clit, pulling it back until the puffy bundle is nerves is revealed.

so badly does he want to coo his praise but every time he thinks about how you treated him, his heart burns just the same.

you struggle against his grasp to clamp your legs shut when he wraps his tongue around it. thanks to his hands anchoring you in place, you’re forced to endure all of it.

you twitch and tweak, hands curling around the fabric of your shirt. this is wild, you think, all to get an answer out of you. the deep, docile part of your brain is ready to do whatever he asks to get the soft touches and sweet names, again.

“ ‘bie,” you mewl, reaching out for him again.

“ready to talk?” hobie lifts his head, replacing his tongue with his thumb, performing tiny circles. he’s disappointed when he’s listening to your moans and hums instead of a explanation. how long will you continue to do this?

he drives his fingers into your cunt, a sigh fanning over you skin leaving it hot and sticky with your cum. “you’re being such a brat today. how hard is it to open your fuckin’ mouth?”

he’s relentless with it, routinely pressing his fingers against the spot that has you crying. he tunes out your warbling, sucking in a breath. “can’t believe you tried to make it about gwen knowing damn well this is your problem.”

his words go straight to your cunt. it’s unexpected, the way you tighten and gush. you’re humiliated and even more so when hobie scoffs. “no chance you’re getting off on this.”

your body tenses, coiling in on itself. your chest rises with one final heave before your cunt is spasming around his fingers. hobie doesn’t cut back, head tilted as you wail.

“why aren’t you talking to me?” he fingerfucks you past your orgasm. he’s unaffected by your squirming to get away from him, pulling you back by your waist.

“it’s too much,” you sob, hand pushing at his.

“that’s not what i asked,” hobie shoves your hand away for the second time that morning. he’s fed up. his hand pops down on your cunny, ogling at the shining cream pouring out.

“ ‘cause,” the tears spill over your waterline and cascade down your face.

“ ‘cause what?” hobie finally removes his hold on you and takes his place next to you in the bed. he pulls your putty body into his lap, a hand on your chins to direct your attention.

you sniffle, lips trembling. you’re hesitating, already knowing how he’s going to react. forming a verbal reason makes you realize how immature you’ve been.

“angel,” his voice is heavy with a warning. you can feel the heat of his fingers slot their way beneath you.

your expression immediately contorts at the feeling of your sensitive nerves being stimulated. “ ‘cause,” you scramble for words, shifting until you can no longer feel him. “i don’t know.”

his fingers find their place again, this time pushing back into you with seething annoyance. “you . . . don’t know? so you did all that ‘cause you don’t know?”

they move slowly. slow enough to draw out soft pants and keep you talking. “i –,” you hiccup, “was upset.” you find yourself chewing on your bottom lip. there is no reasonable excuse. he’s about to that find out.

“mhm,” hobie hums, still dissatisfied with your words. “and did that have anything to do with me?” he feels the answer is obvious but there’s always some gratification in hearing you say it.

your head shakes in a tiny swivel. your hands clench into fists and quiver. having being toyed with for so long, hobie could spit on your cunt and you’d cum. when he’s pressing your spot like this, you’re nearly spilling out your arousal.

“didn’t think so.” hobie pressed his lips into a firm line. he takes pity when you lean your weight against him at the feeling of his digits pump in your tight hole.

his poor girl can’t even sit up on her own. she’s having to resort to using him to hold her up. of course it’s entirely your fault but at least you admitted it.

“that’s all you head do to, love. all this is unnecessary,” hobie mumbles underneath your whimpers.

there’s a soothing hand circling your hip through your orgasm. he listens to your babbling with soft shushes and promises of relief.

all he really wanted was to get the explanation out of you. to begin the start of conversation. hobie knew he could do it. after all, you’re his sweet girl. his ray of sunshine.

when your pants turn into into soft heaves is when hobie lifts your head, held in the palm of his hand. “listen to me, ducky.” he’s firm, eyes narrowed. “never ever do that again, you hear me? you have a problem, you talk about it.”

your half lidded eyes are full of passivity and you nod. you’re resting against him, pleased when hobie’s long arms envelop you in a warm embrace. “ ‘m sorry, hobie. i really am. i didn’t mean it.”

his hands run along your spine and be pressed a kiss atop your head. “i know, dolly. i know.”

#࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#another bad ending ughhh #but it’s done so there’s your gift c:#come get yall juice #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #hobie x reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

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honeytonedhottie · 8 months

Text

beginners guide to manifesting⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⭐️

the definition of manifesting (the law of assumption) is simply, whatever you assume to be true, is true. we are ALWAYS manifesting subconsciously. your beliefs/thoughts are what u experience. therefore if u change ur thoughts , then you'll experience differently.

VOCAB USED A LOT IN THE LOA COMMUNITY :

3D/4D - the 3D refers to ur physical. what you're experiencing physically. the 3D acts as a mirror, and reflects whats in the 4D. the 4D refers to ur mental. ur beliefs, thoughts and assumptions that u continuously think. whats in ur 4D will reflect in ur 3D. not the other way around. this is important to remember when manifesting. if u want a change in the physical, a change must first be made in ur mind.

an analogy to help understand it is, if ur looking in the mirror, and u see that u have lipstick in ur teeth. if u wiped the mirror in hopes that the lipstick stain would disappear, would it disappear. no ofc not. u would have to wipe the lipstick off of your own teeth first, then when u looked into the mirror, you wouldn't see the stain. its the same way with the 4D and 3D. u can't expect to see change if u dont wipe the lipstick off of ur teeth. trying to change the 3D/wipe the mirror won't do anything for you.

WAVERING - wavering is flip flopping between two different stories that u tell urself. it's important to persist in one story and not flip flop between "i have it/no i dont". if u affirm that ur rich but ur continuously thinking thoughts like "ugh i'll never be rich" or "im so broke/i never have money" ur self sabotaging. stop that.

THE RULES OF MANIFESTING? - there is none. ur assumptions are true. therefore ur the one who puts the limits on ur manifestations. do what u will with that information. but the rules and limitations are made BY you, FOR you, bcuz its ur reality.

LAW OF ASSUMPTION VS LAW OF ATTRACTION - these are two distinctly different things.

law of attraction if im not mistaken focuses more on things like ur vibrations, making ur vibrations match what ur trying to manifest. like its name suggests law of attraction focuses on ATTRACTING ur desires, the idea that ur constantly putting energy out into the universe, and negative thoughts and emotions -> will manifest negative outcomes. (pls correct me in the comments if this is false)

law of assumption is whatever u assume to be true is true. whether u prefer law of assumption/attraction, the law of assumption is still proven true regardless. thats because its literally science and how the universe works. it focuses on changing ur assumptions -> to therefore change ur experiences. there isnt any outside validation (the universe etc) everything that u need is within u already.

personally, i prefer the law of assumption bcuz it gives me control and it ALWAYS works.

AFFIRMATIONS - affirmations are thoughts that you'd think if u had ur desire. repeating ur affirmations familiarizes ur brain with having ur desire which makes it SUPER helpful when manifesting something consciously. the thoughts that u have every single day are ur affirmations and thats whats being proven true to u in ur everyday life. FOR EXAMPLE ; "the sky is blue" is an affirmation that is proven true everyday bcuz you manifested it (subconsciously not consciously). if u create a new assumption, then that'll be proven true too. ur thoughts today = what u experience tomorrow

IN A NUTSHELL - controlling ur thoughts and mind -> manifests whatever u want into ur life. there are no limits except for the ones that u put on urself. whatever u can conceptualize is possible (so dont go and ask ppl "can i manifest x,y, and z" bcuz YES U CAN) ur only task is to : affirm/saturate/visualize, whatever ur bag is -> use repetition when u have doubts/limiting beliefs -> persist regardless of what u see in the 3d and dont waver -> reap the fruit of ur manifestation.

go and manifest whatever u want, the world is your oyster

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kafkaesque22girlfriend · 3 months

Text

The Damned Pt.7

Toji Zenin x fem!reader

Synopsis: forced to get in with the Zenin clan by your parents as a servant, Toji Zenin seemed to damn you more than himself….

hi guys i’m back :3 sorry for not updating. i have so many ideas for this fic, pls go back and reread if ur confusedddd. chap is coming after the sexy times that have just ensued :33

blood, sexy stuff, pillowtalk, violence, typical Toji stuff

Toji cleaned you up in the bath after such a passionate night. You were both silent. He dried your hair, dried your body. His gaze didn't align with his soft touch... so he could be gentle?

Interesting.

He was never this attentive to women, but this was something he wanted to do. Toji should have thrown you out right after, he should have been at his wits end and come to his senses- realizing that this was a mistake, a line he shouldn't have crossed.

He laid you on the bed, both of your clothes strewn all over the floor, you flushed at the sight of him.

“Stay with me.” Toji muttered, hoping to God that you wouldn't hear him, but he might as well hold a megaphone to your ear and say it- you listened to him as per usual. You immediately curled into him, resting your head on his chest, Toji was stunned, he didn't know where to put his hands, or what to do with his fingers. He hadn't cuddled before. The revelation was stunting him, he didn't know what to do, any of his upcoming actions were on instinct and should be considered pure, right? Toji reluctantly put his arms around you and brought you tighter to his chest, he hesitantly stroked your hair, enjoying the way such softness felt under his calloused fingers.

“Just for tonight. But that's all, I'm throwing you out in the morning." He said gruffly, he was contemplating the risks right now but he just wanted to feel a body without it hurting him.

You nod reluctantly as you agree. He was right and you loathed it, but this stolen moment would be something to be cherished along the twisted path borne of Zenin hate. “Can I ask you something?” You whisper softly. Your soft padded fingertips traced the little scars littered on Toji's chest.

He couldn't help his eyes widen as you so casually yet so intently thumbed at his scars. This was the first time in a long time that someone had asked about his scars. Normal people within the clan, the chambermaids, the gardeners, the cooks were afraid to even look because of the fear of being reprimanded by him. But you...you weren't scared. You were curious, he liked that about you. But he knows that you'll die because of it. “Ask away...” He said lazily.

“Do you have the same nightmare every night?” You mutter, your solemn tone pierced his ears as your words hang in the air. You were obviously referring to last night when you found him thrashing in his bed, he almost broke your hand because of it, the purple stain on your skin meant nothing to the stain you wished to know- the one burdening his mind. You wondered if he went through the same torment every night.

Suddenly he glared at you with cold steely eyes and gripped your wrists to stop you from touching his scars. “Don't.” Toji said firmly.

You were mortified. “I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.” You murmur under your breath, he could tell it wasn't on purpose but he still felt agitated because of it. He watched as your face flinched, he had to take a minute to process things and in the end, he finally spoke.

“It's fine.. Just don't touch them again. Never. Do you understand?”

“I'm sorry.” I understand. You whisper, you knew he was protecting himself from you, he doesn't want toopen up and you understood that. But it was difficult for you to let go. He looked so scared that night, he grabbed your wrist so hard that the bruise was still in full bloom. Your eyes flit to your wrists to inspect it as you remember the event. "You were so scared... I've never seen you that scared before.” You mumbled as concern etched over every perfect feature.

Toji tensed up. He was ashamed of what he had done, the way he had acted, the fact he still had fears at all. He had never felt guilt in this way before, it seemed like you were guiding him through multiple firsts. “I'm sorry... for hurting you.”

"No!" You blurted absentmindedly. You clear your throat as your eyes lock with his. “No. It's not your fault at all.” Toji hated it, hated how you said such meaningful things as if it was a casual thing. It wasn't. Your mind reeled to what else he could have done last night, he could have killed you.

Toji's hands wrapped around your sides to keep your body pressed against him. He felt quite protective of you at the moment and he was becoming more and more confused, more and more unravelled by every passing minute. He couldn't explain it but it felt too comfortable. “Don't feel scared when you're with me…stop trembling…it’s pathetic..”

You frown at his words, why was he making this an uphill battle. A war waged on no-one? You sigh and roll over to your side, facing away from him.

“ I'm not scared...I'm just cold.” You reply firmly, growing abit tired and confused at all of this. Tonight was overwhelming to say the least.

Toji groaned in irritation, not wanting to deal with this little huff. “What are you so scared of? You're shaking like you're trying not to freeze to death. Are you...are you that afraid of me?” For a split second moment, a small hole pierced through his heart: Are you scared of him? Are you pretending not be?

“No. I'm not afraid.” You say simply, yet you weren't giving your thoughts away in the process. Toji was getting more and more irritated at the fact that you were making this difficult for him. He sighed and put his palm on your back. "If you're not afraid of me, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me... I want to see the truth."

Your ears perked up at the sudden declaration, you turned your head to look him in the eyes, almost as if you were challenging him. “Do you want me to be afraid of you? Is that it?” You say softly, sadness dampening your features, you weren't scared, you were sad.

“If you want me to give you a reason to be afraid of me, I can do just that.” His jaw clenched, his hands flexed and it's obvious that he wasn't lying-

You turn back over to face him and after a few moments of silence and deep pondering, you sighed, a serious look covering your face. “ I'm trying to understand you. All I want is to be close to you, but you're making that really difficult when you keep pushing me away like this.”

His eyes widened slightly and the stern expression on his face softened just a bit. You hit him in just the tender spot and he didn't like how he was acting, he was ashamed of it. Toji didn't understand what he was feeling so he reverted to the only thing he could comprehend other than violence and hatred, he pushed you away. “Right...” He said lowly.

You avert your gaze from his, trying to figure out what to see to get through the cold exterior of his bloodied heart. You sigh, he didn't need to be reprimanded, he needed warmth. "I'm sorry I pushed you." You whisper. We don't have to talk about this. This is the only night we can spend together... So can I hold you?" You compromise, why should you waste a night in bed arguing? You wanted to hold him, one last time.

Toji let out a groan, your body was like velvet under his scarred fingers, your lips like rose petals. He won't ever have this ever again. He won't ever have you ever again, so why should you both argue? Toji didn't want to get too attached to you in a short amount of time... but it seemed that he really didn't have that much of a choice, and he could tell that his heart wasn't listening to his brain...he didn't want to let go of you at all. “Please….Just don't touch my scars.” His voice was almost desperate, pleading.

Toji looked gorgeous right now, his dark hair ruffled, his chest rippling, the pale moonlight dimly exposing every chiselled feature on his perfectly sculpted face, his scar quirking with every move of the lips you so passionately kissed. He pulled you close when he noticed your probing, that curious look on your face he couldn't deny. He wondered what it would be like to fuck your face, the thought was certainly intoxicating, yet he couldn't have it. The atmosphere was far too sensually charged for something as vulgar as that. You looked like an angel, it disgusted him. You rest your chin on his bare chest, refraining from touching any of his scars. You sigh softly and lean into his jaw. “I really enjoyed tonight...” You whisper.

Toji let out a husky grunt, your sweet breath tickled his skin. "You're getting pretty close...C’mere...let me kiss you.”

You pressed your fingers against his lips, softly stroking his lips, carefully avoiding the scar on his lip. "I like the way you press up against me...” He muttered against your fingertips, he fell so deeply into your eyes, he felt like he was protecting you from the whole world in his arms- like he's the only one that can protect you.

He moved your hand from his lips and immediately grabbed you by the nape of your neck. Toji put his mouth to yours, a sensual and deep kiss that stole the air out of your lungs. His hands buried into your hair, his face scrunched up in desperation, like your kiss was the breath of life in his world of death, your tongues melded into one. He pulled you onto his lap, Toji's warm palms lifted up his shirt that you were wearing. Your skin was like heaven, he kissed your neck and collarbone, he sucked on your breasts and nipples as your hands raked through his hair.

“Toji….hah…” You gasp softly, his passion was unrelenting. He pulled back and searched your eyes for an answer, a sign, to find something that he couldn't find within himself. “What are you doing to me?" He said through a strained breath, his words hung heavy in the air.

What were you doing to him...

He was weak for it

He hated it.

Toji could feel your body relaxingin his arms as it slowly made its way to laying on his chest. You nuzzled into his neck and you were pretty much fully exhausted and ready to go to sleep. Toji let out a hesitant deep breath as he let his eyes close. He had you in his arms, there was this overwhelming urge to keep you safe, he always wanted to protect you, this was his way of showing you that he had never felt his satisfied with himself.

Yet his love for killing was your toughest opponent in comparison.

The night chill was lulling his body, the soft whisps of wind flowed through the slightly creaked balcony door. The stars twinkled across the compound lake, the garden flowers fluttered in the breeze and the owls cooed. Everything was peaceful, serene, and quiet, but alas...nothing goes right too long for Toji.

Sweat soaked Toji's forehead, his heart thumped in his ribcage, his hands flexed his hands, his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched.

That shouldn't be happening-

You're there.

You shouldn't be there.

“Toji. Wake up. Hey, hey....it's okay...just please wake up!'”

Toji shot up and awoken suddenly from his sleep when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. The cold sweat was dripping down his forehead, a mere trickle that spurred on a consecutive series of horrifying events conjured up in his own head. His hands trembled, eyes narrowing into mere slits.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

The Zenin's didn't exist.

He was making love to you, such sweet love.

You were happy.

He was happy.

“Toji. You were having another nightmare…it's okay. I'm here, you're fine.” You whisper, his face was pale, his heart was clenching, he felt like he was being strangled slowly. He saw you there, and he immediately grabbed you by the shoulders and stared directly into your eyes.

“Don't... You need to stay away from me...” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “I could hurt you..”

You sighed out deeply, a little frustrated about this undying conviction for him to push you away right now when this was the only night you would have together. "Hey.” You said firmly this time, tilting his chin up and holding his face softly so he could look up at you; deep, sad, distant eyes met yours. “It's just us - just you and me right now. No one else. I'm here, okay? I'm not leaving.” You lean in and give him a gentle kiss on the lips and pull away caressing his scalp slightly.

The words that spilled from your lips were like a soothing balm, and the simple touch of your fingers felt like the touch of an angel. Toji's narrow eyes softened the tiniest bit, that small kiss...

Your kiss. -

“You’re so gentle...” He muttered, his tone bittersweet.

In that nightmare, you were there. Caked in blood as he loomed over you. It was in your hair, on your face, your body…..Your throat slashed. A trademark Zenin cut.

the angst and the smut i have planned is diabolical.

Taglist (mwah!) @wo-ming-bai @xduskydollx @chilichopsticks @maskedpacific @kaizxnx @gojoslefttoenail @idreamitski @miraes-world @misscats-mha @niss2mpm @taylorazureeee @sweetteez @21aurora

#jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji angst #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

Text

any other world - part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

A/N: there’s no cheating in this story i promise

this chapter is nsfw! minors pls dni

(21)

The sound of another thunder startled you and almost caused you to spill red wine all over the place as you emptied the bottle inside your glass.

Aaron had big plans for that night, fancy restaurant and everything, but the heavy thunderstorm left you no choice but to stay in. You genuinely didn’t mind. You loved nights in with him, feeling like he was only for you.

Full from the pizza you had made earlier, he was laying on the floor with his head on your lap, staring up at you with a drunken smile. You took a big sip from your glass and ran your finger across his face, starting from his forehead, going down his nose and reaching his lips.

He grabbed your hand and brought your wrist to his lips, and as if he was some kind of vampire he bit your wrist. “I wish I could just chew these two letters up and spit them out,” he said, referring to the initials of your own soulmate.

“Can you chew up yours too while you’re at it?”

Aaron reached his hand up to your face and rubbed his thumb on your cheek. “Do you ever get jealous of her?”

“All the time.”

“I’m jealous of the bastard you haven’t even met yet too.”

You grinned at his words, and the gentle stroke on the side of your face turned into a grab of your chin. “You enjoy that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Mhm…” you said, nodding.

He sat up and brought his face close to yours, staring at your lips. “Torturing me…ever since I can remember us.”

“Aw, my poor boy…” you cooed, and gave him a sweet kiss. Already dizzy - a little from the wine and a little from Aaron’s mouth on you - you accidentally spilled what was left in your glass on his shirt.

“Shit, sorry!”

“The lengths you go to just to see me shirtless...” he said, shaking his head in disapproval before taking his shirt off.

You giggled and threw yourself into his arms, quietly begging for another kiss. He was more than happy to give it to you.

“Can I take you here, on the floor?” he whispered.

“Please.”

He gently laid you down and you observed him, letting him undress you and himself.

Growing a bit possessive of him after the events of that year wasn’t something you could really blame yourself for. Staring at him and seeing that deep desire in his eyes made you feel good about yourself. You were the one he wanted so desperately to see naked, you were the one making him hard, you were the one that would make him feel good.

But you weren’t the only one growing possessive. Ever since your own mark had appeared, Aaron was leaving marks all over your body as if it was a competition. Yes you had another man’s initials on your wrist, but it was Aaron’s mouth that had touched every part of your body, and those marks were the evidence.

You wrapped your legs around him and let him fuck you slowly, welcoming every word of praise he would give you.

“You take me so well.”

“Fuck you feel good.”

“Made for me, weren’t you?”

You could swear that sometimes his voice felt as good as his cock.

(22)

“Aaron!”

A familiar voice stopped him from walking into the bookshop he had his eye on. The girl had raised her hand to catch his attention, in case her calling out his name wasn’t enough. Her excited smile made him almost sad, so he put on a happy smile to match her energy.

“Haley…I haven’t seen you in a while. How you’ve been?”

“I’m good! Just got a new job, so I’m spending my first paycheck as a reward,” she laughed, and showed him the bags she was holding.

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Well, no better feeling, is there?”

“Nope.” Her smile met her eyes. “How are you?” she asked.

“Good. Shopping as well,” he answered, hesitating to get into more details. Maybe it would be hurtful to tell her he was shopping for his girlfriend’s birthday.

Haley had been really understanding and respectful of his feelings, and he didn’t want to hurt hers any further than he already had.

“Books?” she asked, pointing at the bookshop they were standing outside of.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you?”

[11.59 pm]

Your phone was in your hand, waiting for your boyfriend to call. He’d call you and sing happy birthday in a very dramatic and very off key tone exactly at midnight, and right after he’d show up with an equally dramatic bouquet of flowers.

It had been a tradition for eight years now and even though you teased him for being too much, you loved that kind of attention on your special day. He never failed to make you feel like a princess.

But then midnight hit, and your phone didn’t ring. Not five minutes later, not ten, not even fifteen.

At exactly 12.30 am, your doorbell rang instead.

Aaron was hiding behind a huge bouquet of roses.

It was just thirty minutes. It was just the half of an hour. It isn’t important. It doesn’t mean anything.

You kept repeating that to yourself when he apologized for being late, for breaking the tradition, for getting you worried. You repeated it when he gave you a first edition of your favorite book. You repeated it when he hugged you, and the scent of another woman’s perfume on his coat made your stomach drop.

(45)

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Aaron hadn’t heard your voice in such a long time, that you talking to him would have melted him entirely if it wasn’t for the context of your words. Were you in danger?

He opened his mouth but his voice wouldn’t come out.

“Can we come in?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

We?

His eyes travelled down your body and they caught something moving under your long coat. A tiny arm was wrapped around your leg and a pair of beautiful eyes that looked just like yours looked up at him.

“Of course,” he finally answered.

He stepped aside and made room so you could walk inside his house. You took the hand of the little girl that was attached to your body and entered his home.

A burning feeling of protectiveness took over his chest. If someone had hurt the two of you, he would make sure they’d never see the light of the day again.

He checked the hallway for any suspicious movement and after making sure it was safe, he followed you into the house and locked his door.

“Y/N,” he said, but you raised your hand to cut him off.

“I’ll explain everything. We’re fine. I just…I needed a safe place…and some legal advice.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“My husband. Ex-husband.”

His blood boiled. If that man had laid a hand on you or your daughter he would burn him alive.

“Are you alone?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s just me and my son. He’s sleeping.”

A sweet expression appeared on your face at the mention of his son. He could relate to the feeling of seeing the person you grew up with being a parent.

You were kids just yesterday. And now you had your own.

Your little girl was looking up at him, with an intimidated expression. He was aware that his large frame and angry eyebrows could maybe scare a kid. So he walked closer, squatted down and smiled at her.

“Hello, little one.”

She waved instead of replying, but that was enough for him. She seemed more shy that scared.

“I’m Hotch. What’s your name?” he asked, gently.

“Leila.”

Aaron looked up at you, and found you already staring at him. He knew that the same memory of the two of you planning your future had flashed in front of your eyes.

“Nice to meet you Leila. You’re safe here with me, okay?”

She nodded her head a few times. “Okay. Mommy said you are best friends.”

“We are,” he answered, without a second thought.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #any other world #hotch 🪐

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