#i’m half asleep but this won’t leave my mind

[yujinslovr]

CW: breeding

AND IF I SAID GP!HYBRID!YUJIN??? THEN WHAT???

skdjjsdj js imagine it omfgg she’s already so puppy but IMAGINE HER W THE PUPPY EARS AND TAIL TOO🤭🤭

skdjsks like you could be washing the dishes and she’d come up behind you humping your ass. idcidc she’d take what she wants no matter your answer. washing the dishes ends with you being bent over the sink and yujin fucking you from behind

AHHH HER SMALL PANTS INTO YOUR SHOULDER!!;!3 i feel like she’d be hella sensitive too, constantly whimpering while fucking into you

“y-you f-feel so good”

followed by whimpers and moans of your name🤭🤭🤭 i feel like she’d cum so fast, like it’s been just a couple of minutes and she’s already cumming. baby just wants to fill you up :(((

HYBRID YUJIN ISNT HYBRID YUJIN WITHOUT A BREEDING KINK!!!! she’d have the BIGGEST breeding kink idcidc

“w-wanna breed you, ‘wan you to have my pups”

she’d def pant it into your ear😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 her constantly rutting into you with the intention to fully fill you up. she just can’t get enough of your sweet pussy :(((

she desperately wants to get you pregnant, to have mini yous running around the apartment. her stamina is out of the roof for this reason. always hard and ready to fill you up with her load. with how much she cums in you daily, you think it’s impossible to not get pregnant🤭🤭🤭

#i’m half asleep but this won’t leave my mind #smut #girl group #g!p #ive #g!p ahn yujin #ahn yujin #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin smut #yujin x fem!reader #yujin x reader #yujin smut #gp!yujin #yujinslovr

[phntmeii]

⭐️ OPLA Characters and the “Only One Bed” Trope

[Suggestive + No Gendered Terms]

⭐️ Characters Featured: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Sanji, Mihawk

⭐️ A/N: So... Maybe just the part one to this if people like it? I'll write the next part with the other characters if people want it :) Anyway, cranking out these compilation posts because I’m brain broken with just OPLA content.

Monkey D. Luffy

✖️ Luffy didn’t show any concern about there being one bed. He saw it as something to find fun in a way! To share a bed with one of his friends!

✖️ He’s immediately jumping into the bed and turning to you, holding out his arms, waiting for you.

✖️ “I promise not to take up too much space! Come on!”

✖️ Luffy is immediately wrapping himself around you like a little backpack, nuzzling his head into your neck.

✖️ “M’so soft…” while his hand gently caressed your belly, gently grabbing and massaging it.

✖️ When he felt himself half-asleep, he didn't notice how he was trailing small kisses at your shoulder and the back of your neck. It was like an unconscious habit shining through.

✖️His arms around you are tightly clung so it’s safe to say that you aren’t leaving the bed until he lets you. And he just might not all night.

Roronoa Zoro

✖️ Zoro is immediately refusing. The moment he saw one bed in the room, he spun on his heels and walked out to try and complain.

✖️ When there really was no other rooms, he entered back inside with an annoyed look.

✖️ “Just… *sigh*. Take the bed. I’ll be fine”

✖️ Maybe he could just lay on the floor instead in his mind. Even when you offered to share, he refused. But, he soon found that the discomfort wasn’t worth it.

✖️ He carefully climbed into the bed, taking up the minimum he could at the edge. When he was drifting asleep, he didn’t notice his hands reach out for you, pulling your body toward his.

✖️ As if you were a stuffed animal, he pressed your body to his and hugged you close.

✖️ His tired voice just hushed you when you tried to ask what he was doing as his hands moved toward your chest. “Shh… Jus’… You’re warm.”

✖️ After your restless night together, the next morning, he acts as if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask him about last night.

Nami

✖️ Nami is annoyed but won’t make a big deal out of it. She’ll roll her eyes and complain while setting her stuff down.

✖️ “Let’s just… do what we can. It’s only for one night. You take that side, I’ll take this side.”

✖️ She didn't want to make you uncomfortable or overstep boundaries. Keeping on her side, facing away from you.

✖️ She soon heard you rustling around in the bed, unable to keep still, she was annoyed but asked what was wrong. "Nami... I just- Sorry, I can't sleep."

✖️ Nami's face softened in realization. Sighing, she scooted closer and pulled you into her, holding you close. Her hands gently rubbed your back.

✖️ "It's okay. I can make you feel better." She let her hands lightly caress your sides, trailing up to your neck then cheek. "C'mon, I'll help tire you out."

Vinsmoke Sanji

✖️ Sanji immediately smirked at the sight of one bed but on the inside, was absolutely dying from embarrassment at the idea of being so close to you.

✖️ He immediately laid in bed, hands behind his head with a cocky look. "Already nervous, beautiful? It's only one night..."

✖️ You were used to Sanji's flirting and mainly ignored it since he was like that with everyone. You weren't inherently special in your head.

✖️ The moment you relaxed into the bed on your side, facing away from Sanji, Sanji was laid on his side, eyes to your back. He hesitated to do anything but stare, but he couldn't help it. A phantom touch of his fingers lightly traced your spine.

✖️ You were initially going to complain like you normally did until Sanji scooted closer, placing a kiss at your shoulder. His hand lightly rubbing your arm.

✖️ You heard that ever-familiar teasing, soft laugh behind you. He enjoyed your reactions to his simple touches.

✖️ "You're so stiff... It's just my hands, you know? I just want... I need to feel you."

Dracule Mihawk

✖️ Mihawk stared at the bed indifferently. It was an inconvenience but certainly not something he was going to fuss about. It's just a bed.

✖️ He placed his belongings aside, getting ready for bed and slipping under the covers. When he saw you looking to instead sleep on the floor with your bag as a makeshift pillow, he didn't say anything.

✖️ Laying in bed, Mihawk always found it difficult to drift to sleep, as though he was meant to be tormented by the mere idea of sleep.

✖️ Maybe an hour had gone by and he looked over to see you still on the floor, huddled into yourself. He sighed loudly. "Stop forcing yourself to freeze. Lay down here."

✖️ Seeing you carefully slip under the covers as well, he looked over at you, eyes scanning your face then raking down your body.

✖️ Mihawk reached out with his hand, pulling you closer to him until your face was inches away from his. His stare was critical still, as it always was.

✖️ His hand went to the back of your head, gently caressing you. “I can warm you up, if you’d like me to. Lay back.”

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#opla x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla headcanons #opla x y/n #opla x you #opla sanji x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla luffy x reader #opla nami x reader #opla nami #opla zoro #opla luffy #opla sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n

[sturnmaee]

Bookworm.

summary: getting caught reading smut while having to spend the night with chris.

warnings: reader x chris, no established relationship, smutty smut, unprotected sex (don’t be silly), a little swearing.

requested: yes !!

wordcount: 1,563.

quick little a/n: this took my whole soul to write 😭 i hope it’s okay <33 also to the person who requested this a whole ass month ago i’m so sorry babe 😭😭. and i was half asleep while i proofread this, so im so sorry if theres mistakes xoxooo

i let out a small yawn as i sat around the large wooden table with nick and chris. matt had already said his goodnights and helped packed the cameras away after about an hour and a half of filming content.

"tired already?" nick asked jokingly.

i hummed in response while grabbing my book from the other side of the table. the crisp scent of pages filling my nose as i flicked through them looking for my book mark.

"what a nerd." chris teased while giggling.

"leave her alone," nick said, "we can head up to bed now if you'd like?"

nick and i were close, so of course each night i spent at their house we had sleepovers like little kids again, making dumb jokes and giggling all night.

he shut his laptop and tucked it under his arm as he got up, signaling for me to follow him, in the corner of my eye i watched as chris got up and headed the other direction, down the stairs.

i tiptoed up the stairs following nick, his hands lazily pushing the door open before he sunk down onto his bed, immediately opening his laptop to keep editing. i got straight into reading, i had been dying to finish this chapter, especially because it was one of the more interesting chapters.

about thirty minutes had passed and not a single word was spoken from nick. nothing but frustrated huffs and tossing and turning as he typed away. i shut my book before putting it down onto the silk covers.

"nick i can leave if you'd like, go hang with chris, i'm sure he wouldn't mind?" i quietly said not wanting to ruin his focus.

"really? are you sure, i'm really sorry i'm just so behind in editing." he replied.

"of course," i said while holding my hand onto his, "have a good night." i smiled before walking out of the room quietly, book and phone in hand.

i quietly made my way down both flights of stairs not wanting to wake matt. i stood in front of chris's door, my ear pressed against it, the faint sound of music playing let me know he was still awake. i tapped lightly on the door before opening it and poking my head in. the scent of a coconut candle intertwined with chris's scent filling my nose.

"come in," he said faintly his attention still on his phone before turning his head to see who it was, "oh hey." he said with a smile, patting the spot on the bed next to him inviting me to lay down.

i filled the spot next to him, lying on my stomach before reopening my book. he lied next to me on his back, one hand holding his head up as the other scrolled on his phone.

i looked at my page while trying to contain myself, excited for what was coming. my fingers gripping the cover tighter than before, my teeth lightly biting down on my bottom lip, my legs now squeezed together trying to satisfy the heat growing in between them.

i was so lost in a trance i forgot chris was beside me. he had changed positions and was now facing me, head propped up on one arm, his blue eyes locked onto mine. i felt heat rising in my cheeks before quickly closing my book.

“what?” i asked shyly.

“nothing,” he replied, his voice deeper and raspier than usual, “what’s so good about that book anyways, it’s got you acting like a damn book worm.”

“it’s just interesting, i guess.” i said sheepishly, not mentioning the fact i was reading straight smut with him right next to me.

“let me see.” he said while trying to grab the book. my reflexes instantly pulled it away from him, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“it’s really boring, trust me you won’t like it.” i said bluntly trying to keep my cool. i turned my gaze away from him to play it off, my book sitting in one hand with one finger inserted to keep my place. before i could react he snatched the book from my hand while giggling, opening to the page i had saved.

“chris-!” i whisper yelled not wanting to disturb the rest of the house, my hands flying over to him. he turned away and held the book out of my reach. his eyes frantically scanning the page as the corners of his swollen pink lips turned up. i turned away from him, burying my face into my hands.

“here's your book back.” he said while trying to wave it at me, my face still turned away from him. “you don't have to be embarrassed you know.”

“are you serious chris!” i replied while turning my body to face him, snatching the book from his hands. “that’s so embarrassing.”

“not really,” he said while taking me in with his eyes, “i see why you’re so interested in that book now.” he continued while licking his lips slightly.

i found it hard to keep my gaze locked with his, my core still throbbing, a wetness coating me. his lips parted while his chest rose and fell.

“what do you mean?” i asked innocently, placing the book on the bedside table before propping my head up on one arm to match his position.

his eyes fell from mine, moving to my body, taking me in. his hand placing itself on my side exposed by the short top that hugged my skin, i felt myself shudder beneath his touch as he stroked me lightly. his finger hooked around my waistband, toying with it, asking for permission almost.

"chris," i whispered, "we can't."

"mm, why not." he replied huskily while still playing with the fabric of my sweats.

"nick might hear." i said while slowly moving his hand from my side, keeping it in mine as i watched his eyes.

"c'mon, you have to be at least a little freaky if you're reading shit like that," he teased, "i've wanted you for so long, don't pretend you havent noticed ma." he continued speaking while watching my lips.

i looked down in defeat before moving my face closer to his, closing the gap in between us. my mouth hovered above his as he breathed lightly coating my lips in a hot air.

before i could say anything his hand gripped my face roughly pulling me into him, his lips showing how hungry he was for my own. he broke the kiss only to move to my neck, leaving harsh bites before soothing them with his tongue. i rushed to take my sweats off, tossing them to the floor leaving me in nothing but a short top and black panties.

"turn over," he said while pulling away, "all fours baby."

i followed his demands and pressed my face into the pillow, facing the side of the room where a large mirror sat, i watched him in the mirror as he pulled his sweats down letting them rest below his thighs, followed by his boxers. his cock sprung out hitting the fabric of his shirt as he causing him to let out a hiss through his teeth. his tip red and needy, leaking with precum.

"try and be quiet." he said while rubbing my lower back with his hands. i hummed in response while still watching him in the mirror as he lazily tugged on his cock before lining it up with my entrance, rubbing it up and down my slit, collecting my arousal before placing his tip into me.

"god you're wet."

he let out a quiet grunt before bottoming out, reaching places i could never on my own. i clenched onto the bedsheets trying to contain my whimpers, my knuckles going white.

quiet moans and curses left his mouth as my ass bounced off his pelvis, the sound of our skin slapping filling the room.

“oh god chris” i moaned, not being able to stay quiet anymore.

“shh baby, don’t wanna get caught now do we?” he gripped my waist as he spoke, pulling me into him harder.

i could feel my slick dripping down my thighs as he picked his pace up, my eyes having no place to go but the back of my head. we both gave up on being quiet a while ago, more whimpers and groans filled the room.

“mmh, s-so close.” i said pathetically while gripping onto the pillow.

with one quick movement he pulled out and flipped me over, his eyes now locked onto mine as he pushed back in.

“i wanna see your pretty face while you cum.” he breathed out.

his thrust becoming harder as i came closer to the edge, the feeling growing at my core as my nails dug into his back for support.

“oh f-fuck.” i whimpered, feeling the waves of pleasure fill me.

his eyes watching my face twist in pleasure, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“s-shit.” he stuttered before snapping his hip into me, his warm cum filling me up as he left a soft kiss on my lips.

both out of breath while he pulled out of my softly, fixing my underwear and his pants.

“why don’t i clean you up?” he said quietly while looking over at the bathroom door.

i nodded in response while kissing him softly, his fingers running through my hair.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #fanfic #smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

[livwritesstuff]

Hazel posts a tiktok that starts with her saying, “Hey can you watch my dad for a sec while I go to the bathroom,” as she props her phone up.

She walks away to reveal Eddie sitting on the couch with his Steve’s 2nd gen iPad with a cat curled up in his lap.

Eddie looks up, eyebrows raised as he watches Hazel leave.

Eddie: Watch me?

Eddie: *gives a half-hearted wave to the camera*

Eddie: Wait – who’s watching me?

He leans forward, squinting at the phone. When he realizes he’s actually being filmed, he just sighs and sits back.

Eddie: I’m Ed, Hazel’s dad. 

Eddie: *waves again*

Eddie: Well…now I’ve waved twice.

Eddie, pointing at his iPad: I’m playing Clash of Clans.

Eddie: I used to play it with my daughter until she abandoned me.

Eddie: Not Hazel.

Eddie: One of the other ones.

Eddie: I don't remember her name.

Eddie: *pauses, replaying that in his head and remembering his daughter is probably going to put it on the Internet*

Eddie: I promise that's a joke.

Eddie: *sighs again*

Eddie: I own this house. Been paying the mortgage for, like, twenty years. Not sure why I need to be watched.

Eddie: And yet here I still sit.

Eddie: I could just leave.

Eddie: Actually I can’t.

Eddie: *gestures to the cat asleep in his lap*

Eddie, pointing to the cat: This is ZZ.

Eddie: We’re getting old.

Eddie: Haze clearly trusts me with you guys so she probably won’t mind me telling you that when we adopted ZZ she cried so hard she made herself sick. 

Eddie: Right in the middle of the shelter.

Off-camera, Hazel can be heard coming back into the room.

Eddie: Look who’s back.

Eddie: I was just telling everyone about how we adopted ZZ.

Hazel, picking up the camera with the cheekiest grin on her face: Thanks, guys!

#she tried it on steve first but he just ignored the camera #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #eddie munson #hazel's tiktok page

[gi4hao]

☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!

☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor

9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.

“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”

he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.

“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.

putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.

with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”

the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.

“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.

you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”

a few seconds of silence follow your words.

when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”

suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.

“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”

this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”

with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.

your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.

“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.

at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”

“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”

with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.

you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”

his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.

“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.

“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”

with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.

requests are open!

#can’t believe it’s my first time writing for dino i’m so ashamed #but it’s finally here!!!!! #dinonaras rejoice!!!! #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff

[nomazee]

Silly little thing I thought of

Like like imagine dazai and the reader have been friends for years like the reader knew him since his 15 goofer era... and they got used to eachother sm they usually sleep in eachothers beds n stuff :3

LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING ON BUT THEY STILL HAVE THE FRIENDSHIP LABEL.. 🐺🤞

this concept stuck itself in my head like a tapeworm and it has not escaped me for days IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED i wrote SO MUCH for this omfg i had so much fun writing this thank u for this wonderful idea pairing: dazai x gn reader word count: 2.5k content: fluff, vignette-style writing, friends-to-lovers unspoken label type of thing, soft dazai, domestic fluff without the marriage bit, banter, idiots in love im taking requests!

===

Dazai’s toes are still as frigid at night as they were seven years ago. You, of all people, would be the best person to measure this—not in a weird way, but you two have shared a bed at least once a week since your teenage years. You know all of Dazai’s annoying sleeping habits, including his ones of sleeping without socks and digging his feet into your shins for warmth. 

Annoying fucker. You sigh, batting his arm away from its loose hold around your waist. “Get your toes off of me,” you croak out, half-conscious and mind still addled with the remains of your once-deep sleep.

“What toes,” Dazai mutters back, smacking your intervening hand away and returning his arm to its rightful place around you. “I don’t have toes. I got rid of them after puberty, ‘member?” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” You won’t, not really, and the threats have lost their edge after all these years, but it’s fun to throw at him when he annoys you like this. “I know all your weaknesses, Osamu. One wrong move and you’ll be missing more than just your toes.” 

“I’m cold, dear. Would you really let me freeze like this? So mean.” 

You try not to choke up at the nickname. He’s been a fan of those recently, at least in the last year. You think it has something to do with your new places at the Agency. New workplace, new life, and new nicknames, apparently. If you overthink it you might puke on him and fall back asleep. 

“Not cruel. We have money now, you know. Go buy yourself socks. Wool, or something. Stupid ass cold ass toes.”

He goes quiet. Even in all these years of knowing him, half-living with him, you can’t tell if it’s a normal lull in the conversation or a calculated pause. It doesn’t unnerve you as much as it used to, but there’s still a cold chill at the nape of your neck that springs up at times like these. 

“Why would I do that when I have you?” 

Dazai has also been a fan of this recently—strange uncharacteristic moments of tenderness. He peels himself back for you and bares himself raw. The implications make you nauseous. Swathed in the darkness of the night, he can’t see your fingers twitch from where they lay next to your head, away from his sight; or the conflicted expression that crosses your face. 

Easing your breath out into a steady, deep rhythm, you pretend to be asleep. It’s not like he can’t tell, but the message is there. Let’s not talk about this until the morning. Let’s just sleep for the night. Let’s keep what we have and not change it for the worse. 

==

At age eighteen, shaken with the death of his friend and haunted by blood stains on his fingers, Dazai defects from the mafia. 

He doesn’t take you with him—at least, he doesn’t mean to. He expects to leave quietly, or as quietly as blowing up Chuuya’s car can be. He doesn’t expect you to drag yourself along kicking and screaming. 

Dazai doesn’t remember much about specifics, but he knows that one day he was alone in his underground apartment and the next day you were there. The kitchen smelled like melted marshmallows and rice krispies and his dingy counter was covered in sprinkles. 

“Hi, Dazai,” you’d greeted conversationally. “I’m making your favorite.” 

He doesn’t even like rice krispie treats. Hates them, actually. 

In truth, your presence is less the result of you “kicking and screaming” and more like an after-effect of your own quiet stubbornness. Your kicking-and-screaming was done in the passive aggressive way that you cleaned his dishes and made his bed and left big trays of rice krispie treats in his fridge for the next week. 

Neither of you talked about Chuuya. It was better for you that way. 

On the first night, Dazai remembers you holding him from behind, forehead pressed into the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. He’s sensitive there despite being wrapped in his stupid scratchy bandaids. His memories for the rest of the night are overrun by a feeling of want, an itch to feel your fingers on his bare skin, a craving for your hand on his stomach to slide beneath the hem of his shirt and press into the tender skin of his abdomen and keep him warm.  

===

“Leave me alone,” you grumble from behind the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m napping.” 

“It’s not napping if you’re still awake.” 

“I wouldn’t be awake if it wasn’t for your annoying ass.” Rotating your body to face the ceiling from your place on the Agency’s couch, you sigh when your view is blocked by Dazai’s ugly stupid face. He’s smiling in that conniving way that he does when he’s about to do something super annoying. Another sigh escapes you when he leans down close enough for the overgrown ends of his hair to brush against your nose. The puff of air from your verbal discontent makes the strands sway slightly. You try not to think about how mesmerizing he looks when he’s this close, with the light from the window casting a golden sheen on the crown of his head. 

Since when did you get this sappy? Must be Dazai rubbing off on you, obviously. 

“So tired already! It’s barely noon.” 

“You came into work an hour ago. I’ve been here since eight. Try being responsible for a change, might exhaust you just as much.” 

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, big stupid shiny brown eyes blinking down at you like he’s observing a specimen. “I think I’m more than responsible enough.” 

“Sure,” you relent, turning back around to shove your face into the corner of the couch and block out the incoming light. It’s the truth—you’re exhausted. A persistent weariness permeates your bones from how much you’ve been working these last few weeks. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault in particular, not even Dazai’s despite how much he slacks on paperwork. But looming threats from enemy organizations hang over everyone’s heads and there’s no shortage of uncertainty in the Agency. It’s been mission after mission for you, and you’re taking every break you can get. 

Rustling sounds from above you, but you pay it no mind, busying yourself with nestling all of your body into the crevices of the couch and hopefully turning into a piece of furniture yourself. It might be a more peaceful life, really. The calm is short-lived when you feel fingers tap along your cheek—not in a rousing gesture, but something along the lines of placating. 

Dazai squeezes a hand beneath your head and cups the side of your face pressed against the couch, tilting it closer to him before you feel a warm press of lips against your cheek. He lingers. He always does. You can feel the gentle inhales and exhales breeze against your face before he breaks his kiss away. Your cheek is warm for more reasons than one. 

“Take care of yourself,” and oh, god, you’ll never get used to this, never get used to how tender and soft he’s become with you, never get used to how this Agency has fostered something like kindness in both of you. Your stomach stirs with something unnamed and if you were braver, you’d blink your eyes open and reach up and grab the sides of his face and pull him down to you. 

But you’re not brave, and there’s people still behind you in the office, and you wonder what led Dazai to be soft enough to kiss your face like that in front of everyone. You’re sure they’re watching you both. The Agency is full of gossips, whether they admit it or not. 

===

“Dazai,” Ango Sakaguchi grits out from behind the crackling reception of a burner phone. “They were not a part of the plan.” 

“You think I don’t know that, Ango?” Dazai replies, tone more playful than aggressive. “I know they’re not a part of the plan. They knew they weren’t part of the plan, too. But it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s just a minor change.” 

“A minor change?” Ango’s voice is strained with stress, no doubt pulling out strands of his hair as they speak. “I have to deal with not one, but now two members of the mafia defecting. Do you know how much work this was to begin with?” 

The thing is—of course Dazai knows. He knows everything. The minute he found you in his kitchen, his stomach dropped with the uncertainty of the future. Going underground with another person was nothing short of a burden, at least on paper. But, he couldn't find it in himself to think of you like that. Like a burden. 

“We’ll figure it out, Ango. If you don’t, then we will.” 

A gritty sigh sounds from the other side of the phone call. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dazai. Don’t screw this up.” 

===

“Made you lunch. Since, obviously, you’re not gonna do that for yourself any time soon.” 

A closed plastic container is thrown on the counter in front of Dazai. He looks at it, then up at you, eyebrow raised as if he doesn’t have a clue what this could be about. He’s not that stupid, though. You of all people would know that. 

“How nice of you! Too bad I’m not hungry.” His lip juts out in a poor imitation of a pout, and he looks ugly with it. So ugly. Ugly enough to make you feel the need to kiss him all over and then slap him. An incredulous huff escapes you. 

“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Eat. It has crab in it, see, your favorite.” 

“I thought my favorite was rice krispies?” 

You freeze. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might remember that, after all this time. You don’t dwell, because that’s the worst thing to do with Osamu Dazai—dwell. 

“Don’t act stupid. Just eat it. Even if it’s not the whole thing, at least some of it. It would do you some good.” Getting serious with Dazai is one of the most awkward, unbearable things you could ever do. He has a way of making you feel stupid for worrying about him, with all his roundabout jokes and skills of evasion built up over years. You’ve found that being straightforward is the best way to avoid all those blank moments of silence. 

His fingers curl around the plastic lid and pop it open. The container is still warm, having cooked all its contents just half an hour before showing up at Dazai’s apartment with conviction in your eyes. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll have some.” 

You bring out a duplicate container with a serving for you, and treat yourself to a juice box from his fridge. You try not to launch into a lecture at the sight of his barren pantry—that’s best done by Kunikida. The both of you eat in silence, sitting across from each other at Dazai’s dusty kitchen island. 

He only gets through a few bites before pushing the container away and complaining about how full he is. You know it’s not the truth, but it’s the mixed-up signals that his body sends him. It’s not that he’s full, but his persistent lack of appetite has caused a lot of troubles for him in the past and you don’t doubt that it’ll keep causing troubles in the future, too. 

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, dragging him up from his chair despite his whining protests. “I won’t make you shower, but you should probably do that tomorrow, ‘cause your hair’s about to get all greasy and disgusting.”

“So crude.” 

“I do my best.” 

You let him change on his own, but not before picking out a nice soft set of matching pajamas from deep inside his closet. You grumble a little in annoyance. The set was a birthday gift you got for him a year ago and that asshole pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and never touched it again. What a brat. You throw a pair of fuzzy socks at him to boot. 

Once he’s changed into proper sleep clothes, you can tell that the exhaustion is starting to hit him. He sways a little on his feet and his blinks last for a little too long, as if he’s chasing sleep every time his eyes shut. With another begrudging sigh, you set him down on the floor of the bathroom and dollop his toothbrush with fruity kid’s toothpaste—because of course that’s the only toothpaste he owns—and brush his teeth for him. 

Dazai dozes off in the middle of it, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up in the most annoying way possible. You try really, really hard to not think about how soft you’ve gotten. You’re an ex-mafia member, past coated with dark stains and entrails and death, all of those dark things. Your blood is just as black as Dazai’s, if not more. And yet, being a part of this stupid Detective Agency with this stupid man has melted you down into something parallel to good.

Don’t dwell. It’ll do you no good. 

You use a gentle grip with the toothbrush, ensuring that his delicate gums don’t tear with the force of the bristles. A warm feeling stirs in your chest. It feels like you’ve proven something, like you’ve proven to the world that your coal-stained hands can be gentle, too. You can kill and you can nurture. You tap Dazai awake with a little more care, now. 

“Rinse your mouth,” you tell him in a whisper. “Then you can sleep.” And after a pause, you add, “I promise,” because now you’re in the business of making promises to people. 

Dazai rinses his mouth, and you wipe off the remaining droplets of water from his face with a paper towel that you leave on the counter for your future self to throw out. You lace your fingers with his as you walk to his bed. Not that he needs any guiding. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a little extra insurance, you think. 

“Stay with me,” he mumbles out the minute you lay him down on the bed. It’s a sentence, and not a question, because he’d rather die than ask you something so vulnerable. He’s doing it again—peeling himself back and baring himself raw for you. Your head swims and your vision blurs with either a migraine or with tears, you can’t tell. But your lips quirk up into a stupid smile and he sees it despite his half-lidded eyes, and he smiles back like the stupid dope that he is. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m right here, Osamu. Go to sleep.” 

And he does. Of course, not before he feels you cup the opposite side of his face and plant a warm, lingering kiss on the swell of his cheek just as he did for you weeks before. The faint laugh that he lets out before he falls asleep is enough to tell you that he’ll be making fun of you for it in the morning. For now, though, he’s soft and pliant and warm between your hands, and you sleep.

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fic #bungo stray dogs fic #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x you #dazai osamu #i forgof how to tag hejkp me #openeing up comissions soon... maybne.... #this was so fun to write like it lived in my brain for a week and i wrote a little bit every day #i had DAYDREAMS ABOUT THIS CONCEPT BRO LIKE

[draiys]

Hi, can you do a request with Jason Grace and reader when the two of them are dating and just spent a whole day cuddling in bed?

hi sry for taking so long w this ! it’s js a short drabble but i hope u enjoy ittt reader is gn

tw shirtless jason, mentions of being held against will (as a joke) wc ~500

<3

you curl into jason, still half-asleep. “why’re you moving so much?”

you throw an arm over his chest, fingers grasping his side as he continues to move.

“stop,” you drag out your groan, twisting the sheets as you desperately claw at him to still.

“i’m late!” comes a low morning voice, muffled by a shirt pulling over its mouth.

you grumble, rolling over across the bed to grab ahold of him as he stands.

“no,”

“no i’m not late?” he shrugs off your arm and you blindly reach for him again.

“you are late, but you can’t go.”

“why not?”

“because, then i’ll miss sleepy jason.”

you earn a small laugh, which you, in your sleep-deprived state, take as your sign to give up, staring at the ceiling.

the sounds of jason getting ready slowly fade to a stop, and the bed suddenly dips next to you. “i thought we were stopping me from leaving, no?”

“i gave up.”

a laugh pulls out of jason, and he sweeps your hair from your forehead.

“no reason?”

“because you’re not caving. you do know that’s what’s supposed to happen, right?”

he laughs again, and you hide your head in his hand.

“your laugh is really pretty,” you mumble. you can’t see him, but you’re sure jason is blushing.

he fidgets next to you, and you roll into his side. “aren’t you late?” your lips move against his shirt, which is oddly warm.

“hm?”

“to class, you–” you open your eyes, “you said, um…”

jason is not wearing a shirt.

“i said what?”

“um, i…”

you grab his side, pulling him down and pushing your face into his neck.

“you didn’t say anything. you can’t go.”

he laughs gently. “really?”

“really.”

“okay.”

you gasp, pushing off of him to stare at him in amazement. “excuse me?”

“i said okay.”

“are you okay?”

“what are you talking about?”

“what have you done with my boyfriend?”

a blush paints over his cheeks at the word.

“never mind, i guess it is you.”

he pushes his shoulder into your cheek. “shut up.”

you tighten your arms into a hug around him.

“so you’ll stay?”

“i will.”

he flips you onto your side, gently tucking you between his arms.

“this is why i wake up early, you know. so i won’t get held against my will by you.”

“i seem to remember you actively stating your willingness to stay.”

“which i did against my will.”

you ignore him. “so does this mean you’ve given me the power to,” pulling up your fingers into air quotes, “hold you against your will, whenever i want?”

he only hugs you tighter, which of course, you take as, yes.

<3

#jason grace x reader #jason grace #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #jason grace fanfic #jason grace imagine #percy jackson fics #pjo imagines #pjo fanfic #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace fluff

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

—

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.  

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.  

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”  

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.  

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”  

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”  

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.  

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.  

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”  

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.  

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.  

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.  

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”  

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.  

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”  

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.  

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”  

It was easy to accede to his command.  

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.  

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.  

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.  

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.  

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.  

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.  

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”  

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.  

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”  

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”  

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.  

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.  

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.  

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,�� he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.  

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

TAGLIST WILL BE CONTINUED IN REBLOG.

Strike-through means I cannot tag.

TAGLIST:

@millllenniawrites @theicypiscean @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbees @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @caravelofthesun @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @buckysmainhxe @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @queer-poncho @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @expir3dl0v3 @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @dzaga890 @killerrxger @ayehomo @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @Eggnox07 @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @julesonrecord @bbyanarchist @stxrgvsm @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @princessdjarin @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @ophealiadrowning @kamcrazy123 @milly-louise @djarinsgirl @cowboychickenlittle

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x female reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña angst #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena narcos #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x you #Salvatore series

[jinkookspencil]

a way to wake | ksj

you're fast asleep and seokjin has to wake you up... an old method he used on his friend eventually comes to mind

description/tags/note: seokijn drabble / fluff + suggestive / established relationship / i had this idea in my head for a while, ever since i found out how jin used to wake up jungkook when they were younger... and i ended up writing the whole thing while stuck in traffic on a random afternoon / i am actively working on til you make it 2 whenever i have the time! i'm glad i took my time with it, i improved it in all this time and am still thinking of ways to improve it little by little / also, i often get ideas or scenarios in my head that could be mini pieces, not even a drabble - some are barely even 500 words. would you guys be interested in stuff like that? lmk!! / anyways, enjoy!! / edit: i edited this fic to make it even more suggestive. they both hint at yn wanting jin to wake her up by touching her.

wc: ~1.3k words

Seokjin didn’t have it in him. You were sleeping so peacefully beside him, as you had through all seven of your alarms, likely finally getting in a good rest after many sleepless nights… and he had to disturb it?

He knew he didn’t really have a choice - you were already running late. It wasn’t going to be a problem for Seokjin really, after you both showered, it’d only take him a couple more minutes at most to change into his suit. You, on the other hand, always needed some extra time to get ready, and that ‘extra’ time was getting shorter and shorter the more he let you sleep.

You’d want him to wake you up, he knew that for certain, as well as the fact that you would probably scold him as well as yourself for your sleeping in. That reminder is what finally got him to nudge and rub your shoulder.

“Jagiya?”

He repeats the action numerous times, raising the volume of his voice every time, but still, you slept.

“Honey,” he calls with a laugh, tickling your side, belly, and thigh. Your elbow twitches once, but never again despite him repeating the action over and over again. “We need to leave soon. You need to wake up now, darling.”

Nothing.

He gets up to pull open a bit of the curtains, letting sunlight stream in and disrupt the darkness of your bedroom.

Still, nothing.

Frustrated now, Seokjin pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo of you sleeping - just for himself - before opening up the music app. He plays clips of several songs, and all you do is wince, sleeping through them as you did your alarms.

“Are you faking it?” he asks aloud to your sleeping body. “Jagi… if you’re faking sleep, I swear I won’t eat you out tonight. I’m serious.”

Nothing.

That definitely would’ve done it if you were faking sleep. Really, you had no reason to fake it - you'd panic at the mere thought of running late - but Seokjin couldn’t eliminate the possibility entirely. You could be a bit of a brat at times.

He half considers physically pulling you out of bed, throwing a plushie at you, or emptying a water bottle on you, until he remembers a failsafe. A way that couldn’t hurt you like manhandling could, nor anger you with wet pajamas and sheets.

Jungkook’s way.

Seokjin giggles to himself at the thought. He had never tried it on any of his exes in the past, just Jungkook, really. It wasn't uncommon for boys to do such a thing at that age, especially when they were playfully roughhousing, which, with Jungkook, happened every day and at any time of day. Seokjin always had the edge by starting off Jungkook's days just like that - it always did the trick... And considering the other similarities you shared with Seokjin's younger friend, it wasn’t something to dismiss entirely.

Slowly, he turns you until you’re lying entirely on your back against the mattress, facing the ceiling with shut eyes. He moves from his position next to you until he’s over you, straddling your body with a knee planted on either side of your hips. He never took on this position with Jungkook of course, and almost started regretting it already - you felt too good.

“Jagi,” he whispers, pulling away the blanket from your body and letting his hand graze the skin at your collarbone and your stomach by the hem of your pajama top. He kisses your neck once, calling your name. It was the final chance he'd give you before he’d pull the trigger.

And you didn’t budge.

He sighs in defeat, not holding back his smile any longer when he sees your hardened nipples peak through the thin fabric of your top. Ready. Just for him.

With his index finger and thumb on both hands, Seokjin pinches and fiddles with your raised buds for mere seconds before you shoot up, finally awake.

“Wh?! W..what the fuck?! Jin!” you yell, wriggling underneath your fiancé’s body as he laughs, tumbling over you.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he says between his giggles, stopping only when you lazily reach towards his chest. “YA! I only did that to wake you up. You slept through your alarms, bub. We’re running late.”

“WHAT?!” you yell, pushing him off of you and hurriedly searching for your phone. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

“I TRIED!” he protests, getting off the bed. “You slept like a rock. Who knew squeezing your nipples would finally do it? It’s what I used to do to Jungkook when we shared a dorm. Though, of course, I used to twist his nipples to the point where he was certain I detached them from his body somehow. I tried handling you with care, princess.”

“Couldn’t you have used your fingers somewhere else, Seokjin? A bit lower perhaps? You know, something Jungkook doesn’t have? Something you could only possibly do with your girlfriend?”

Seokjin stares at you. Despite the fact that you’d looked delectable asleep and under him already, the thought never occurred to him. Of course the thought wouldn’t occur to him. This wasn’t a conversation you had had together and he hadn’t gotten your consent or any hint that it’d be something you would want. Unless of course, he had been the reason you refused to wake up… Seokjin’s mind wanders with a desperate need within him to have the conversation then and there, knowingly unprepared if you’d admitted to it all. Wanting to be woken up that way. A dream, perhaps. They might have just forget the event altogether…

He begins following you around the room with pleas for a moment to talk, but you don’t turn back for a second until it is to do the exact opposite of handling him with care - dragging and pushing him into the bathroom.

Seokjin watches as you undress, doing the same and half hoping for a quickie, considering your eagerness. He almost felt his length begin to harden, but soon you’re pushing him once more, into the tepid shower with a loofah in hand. He tries to put his thought away for now, caring for your body in another way he felt so privileged to do. To maximize efficiency, you wash yourselves and one another before going about your routines at double the pace. Seokjin’s entirely dressed in minutes, save for his suit jacket, while you were still getting ready, wearing a lingerie set underneath a robe. Extra time for you, and extra time for him to admire you.

“Help me with my dress,” you command him, stepping into a dress he promptly zips up, but not before he drinks up the sight of you in brown silk and lace underneath. Stood behind you, he watches as you adorn yourself with jewelry but can’t stop his hand from snaking over your waist, softly cupping your breasts over the fabric of your dress. You don’t react save for a sharp inhale, continuing to adorn your look. You’re so stunning it almost brings him to his knees. He’d happily allow his body to get there, too, kneeling to tease you at the very least and at most, sneaking his head underneath your dress and pulling down your underwear - just for a taste. But instead, he nudges his head in the crook of your neck - softly kissing along the chain of your necklace. “Tell me, honey… were you dreaming of me? Is that why you didn’t want to wake up?”

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting Seokjin’s hand on your waist, his fake arrogance replaced with a wide smile in seconds. “We need to leave.”

“I made a promise,” Seokjin says, wearing his jacket. “While you were asleep. I made a promise.”

“Oh?” you question, spraying perfume on the two of you. The final touch.

“I said that if you were faking sleeping through your alarms, I wouldn’t eat you out tonight.”

The promise makes you stop in your tracks towards the front door, Seokjin getting there first with an intrigued expression on his face when he looks back. “Since you weren’t faking it, that means I have to do it. And since you slept through the many different ways I tried waking you up… I guess it seems I gotta get you to do something else.... gotta get you somewhere.... many different ways tonight…. Oh, and of course, you won't be faking it this time around as well.”

He’s unsure if the redness in your cheeks is heat flooding your system or makeup he simply hadn’t noticed a minute prior. As you make your way towards your fiancee, you see smugness only slightly present on his face, overshadowed by sincerity - that of a genuine promise. Your hands fiddle with Seokjin’s tie before resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize dreams could manifest into reality that quickly.”

“I knew it,” Seokjin smiles, kissing your hand as his ears go red. The idea of you actually having a wet dream about him this long into your relationship… the fact that you’d dream of him and his body pleasuring yours, after only hours apart in sleep… it sent him into a frenzy.

“I mean, I know I’ll hear it tonight, but I kind of wish you’d been moaning my name in your sleep…”

“Well, you didn’t see my pajama shorts, did you?,” you whisper, flicking Seokjin’s nipple over his shirt. He winces but is quick to disregard the pain - his face flushed, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, trying to reach for your waist, thigh, or ass - you push him away.

“It was a very vivid dream, honey. Don’t you worry… I’ll tell you all the many different ways I want it. The ways you did it… And tomorrow, wake me up like it never ended.”

There it was.

“Can we stay in? We’re late already,” Seokjin whines. “We can get a head start. Morning to morning…” He feeling his knees buckling at the thought, slowly trying to pull you closer to him in persuasion. You don’t budge and open the door instead.

“You know we can’t…. Now’s your time to dream of me.”

The hunger within him only grew, already fantasising of the of the night to come. Now, he was in competition with himself and he’d make sure your reality is far better than anything you could dream of.

#jin drabble #seokjin drabble #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #jin fluff #seokjin fluff #jin scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenarios #jin x you #jin x reader #jin x y/n #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin #jin #bts drabble #jin oneshot #jin one shot #seokjin one shot #bts one shot #bts oneshot

[slasherwife]

Slashers reaction when their s/o catches them without mask for the first time? Pls and thank you!

s/o catches their slashers without a mask

awww yes!! i must give happy endings to all of these 😭🫶

warnings: extra short bc daddy bo doesn’t wear a mask 🥲💗

thomas hewitt:

He feels guilty

He wasn’t careful and now he’s scarred you from letting you see his scarred face. He’s ashamed he couldn’t keep you from himself 😭❤️‍🩹

And in a way it feels invasive. He feels like he’s been seen naked, and he quickly looks away with the feeling of embarrassment and shame fills him💔

He goes to leave, quickly entering the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

after about a minute of refusing to look at himself in the mirror, he hears gentle breath coming from the other side of the oak wood door.

his better half, asking if he’s okay. that it looked like he saw a ghost, and then laughing. then telling him that you miss him. and that, “by the way, you’re beautiful.”

he starts to cry, smiling, and looks into the mirror at the face that they said was beautiful. 💗💗

jason vorhees:

jason isn’t really self aware like thomas is. he isn’t one to worry about what he looks like anymore 🤗

i mean, he does worry that you won’t find him attractive, but it’s not to the point where he will refuse to ever let you see him with his mask off!

the first time was when he was down by the lake, sitting down washing a trap that had flesh still inside, minding his own💞 he had taken off his mask to breathe freely the lake air.

he had thought you’d been asleep for a long time, inside the cabin. and he had been so threaded in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open.

“hi jason” your voice rang out sweetly, slightly caught off guard because his mask was off but nontheless wanting to greet him🫶

he says nothing (obv), but instead of giving you his long soft glance like he usually does, he looks away, and down, almost trying to hide his face as he grows stiff

you grow slightly deflated, but your love for him seems to intensify, and you can’t stop the words before they come out, “you have beautiful eyes.”

jason’s eyes flicker to you, then back to the ground, then pats the ground beside him for you to keep him company 💕💕🥺

michael myers:

this guy is the literally opposite of thomas he does not care at all😭 he is literally so not self aware at all

he likes his mask but sometimes the thing gets real smelly so he has to throw it in dishsoap water yk 🥲

then you come around the corner he’s like “oh hey y/n” literally nothing off about what’s being seen atm 😃😂💞

you TRY to play it cool but at the same time you’re like fangirling over seeing your hot smexy murderer husband without a mask for the first time 💕😇

but at the same time like he probably sleeps without the mask on so i’m assuming y’all sleep separate until now 🥲

if not then you see it so early into the relationship like it’ll be no big deal 😇💕

bo sinclair:

boy doesn’t wear a mask, his face is too hot and sexy to be contained 😍

vincent sinclair:

absolutely horrified. he doesn’t even like being alone without his mask on that much.

has literally considered waxing the actual mask to his face permanently😕❤️‍🩹

he just was repairing it— he got too close to a radiator on accident and needed to repair it. then his baby walked in🥺

hears the door open and IMMEDIATELY flinches away. he knows you caught a glimpse, and he’s terrified, and mortified.

he’s breathing deeply, frozen, stiff, like one of his sculptures. you on the other hand are concerned. 🥹

“darl? is everything okay my love?” you call out softly, so not to startle him💞 he doesn’t answer, and doesn’t move.

“i went looking for some petrol, i knew you wanted some for your art. it’s in the shed.” he noticed that you never called his statues “sculptures” or “wax dolls” like bo always did. you called them “art” 💝💞

“honey you don’t have to hide from me. i will always respect your privacy, i will never ask you to show me your face. but you will never have to hide from me because i love all of you.” 🥹💗

you say this to him and he softens like the wax on his mask. it was within the next few days that he’d rather throw it into the fire than melt it into his skin forever 💞💞

#slashers #slashers x reader #i made a thing #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt imagine #jason vorhees #jason vorhees x reader #jason vorhees headcanon #jason vorhees imagine #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers headcanon #michael myers imagines #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair headcanon #bo sinclair imagines #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair headcanon #vincent sinclair imagine #texas chainsaw massacre #halloween #friday 13th #house of wax

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

[clemkruckinnie]

first time-d.lambert

summary: dalton decides he wants to take his relationship with you a step further.

You feel peaceful.

Though it’s a Friday night on campus, you and Dalton have created a peaceful little corner of the dorm for yourself. You can’t help but steal glances at your boyfriend, scribbling furiously in his sketchbook. He’s drawing, and erasing, and drawing again, and before you can ask what’s up, he shoves the sketchbook off his bed.

“Everything okay?” You look up from the other corner of the bed, sitting up.

“I’m just not having a good creation day.” Dalton explains. “Nothing I wanna draw is coming out right, I have this stupid deadline to meet and I can’t even land on a rough sketch because my stupid brain and my stupid hands won’t-“

“Dal.” You cut him off, putting your hand over his. Getting an idea, you sit up further, uncrossing your legs. “Lay down.” Dalton happily obliges, sighing like the weight of the world’s been lifted from his shoulders once he lays his head against your thighs. “Better?” You ask, moving so that your hand is in Dalton’s hair, rubbing his scalp lightly.

Dalton nods against you. “Don’t make me fall asleep.” He warns you, half joking.

“Why, you’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

Dalton pauses.

“Oh, baby-“ You push his hair back from his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just thought it’d be too much for you. That I would be too much for you.” Dalton explains.

“If it’s too much for me, it’s definitely too much for you.” You tell him, “let me know about that stuff, okay?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Dalton objects, you shaking your head. “Thought i’d scare you off.”

“You don’t abandon the people you love when they’re hurting. You stay and shoulder it with them.”

You don’t realize the words that you chose until you say them, looking up into Dalton’s wide blue eyes.

“What?” His voice comes out shaky, uncertain that he heard you correctly. “Do you mean that?”

“That I love you?” You ask. “I do. I love you, Dalton.”

Dalton almost knocks you over with the force he hugs you with, tucking his face into your neck.

“I love you, too.” He pulls back, laughing tearfully. “We’re in love.”

His gaze softens before he leans in, cupping your face like he’s holding something delicate, and kisses you with a passion that almost makes you lightheaded.

When he finally pulls back, your entire body feels like it’s on vibrate. By the way his pupils dilate, you can tell Dalton feels the same.

“What’s on your mind?” You finally ask him.

He leans in again, but moves upwards, kissing your forehead instead of your lips. Then, he moves back down, resting his forehead against yours.

“I wanna do what people in love do.”

“You mean-“ You trail off, Dalton nodding against your head.

“I need you.” Dalton moves his hands down, his arms around you. “Please, baby.”

You lean back in again, kissing him with a passion new to the both of you as he lays you down. He moves to your jaw, kissing it gently before he goes down further, his soft lips trailing down and across your neck. “Dal.” You sigh, hands between his shoulder blades.

He lets out a sweet sound against you, the vibrations making you shiver. “Say my name like that again.” He sucks lightly at your pulse point, drawing his name out of you in a whine. “Sound so pretty.” He pulls back, his hands resting against your stomach, having slid them under your shirt. “Can I?”

You nod almost too quickly, wanting to get the offending garment off before you get too nervous to. Any lingering feelings of anxiety leave your body like a floodgate opening as he takes you in. You’re in an old pair of running shorts and a sports bra, yet he looks at you like you’re the finest piece of art in the world. “Beautiful,” Dalton marvels, smoothing his hands over your chest. “All for me, right?”

You nod, Dalton shaking his head. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle, you feel your eyes heating up and you try your best to not cry while topless in front of your boyfriend for the first time. “All for you. I’m all yours.”

Dalton smiles, leaning in and kissing your nose before sliding his hands under you, by the clasp of your bra. “Want me to take this off?”

“Please.” You almost whimper, Dalton swallowing thickly as you lean upward. The proximity of your faces isn’t as close as it had been when you were kissing, but you’re close enough to see all the shades of blue in his eyes, the concentration on his face as he works at your bra clasp.

“Hi.” You break the silence, Dalton smiling at you again.

“Hi.” He whispers, finally undoing the clasp. “Got it. Let me just-“ He pulls your bra down your arms, discarding it somewhere in the room.You’re fully bare from the waist up, but don’t feel exposed at all.

Dalton drinks in the sight of your bare chest, sliding his hands up to cup each breast in one. “These are perfect.” Dalton marvels. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples, you arching into him involuntarily.

“Does that feel good?” Dalton asks, not cocky, genuinely curious. You go to nod, but stop yourself, remembering that he likes verbal confirmation. “Yes,” you tell him, “they’re really sensitive.” You admit. “Feels nice when you play with them.” Dalton groans, your praise giving him the motivation he needs to keep going. “Wanna get my mouth on them.” He tells you.

The word “please” is barely out of your mouth before he’s taken one nipple into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers as he sucks. It sends a pang down between your legs as you moan, loudly, going to put your hand over your mouth. Dalton grabs your wrist, using his surprising strength to keep your hand away from your mouth. “Don’t muffle yourself. Let me hear you.” Dalton tells you, kissing his way across your chest to your other nipple, repeating what he had done before. Your hands find their way to his head instead, pushing his hair away from his face.

“I need more.” You beg. “Please, baby-“

Releasing your nipple with a pop, Dalton scoots down between your legs, tugging your shorts off. He’s about to take off your panties when you stop him.

“Is something wrong? We can stop-“

“No! No, I wanna keep going.” You assure him. “You just still have all your clothes on. Doesen’t seem fair.”

Dalton looks down at his sweatshirt and laughs softly. “You’re right. That’s not fair.” He tugs the shirt over his head. “Here,” He stands up, tugging his pants down and kicking them somewhere on the floor, leaving him clad in his boxers. “We’re even.”

You smile, nodding as he re-situates himself. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and discarding them somewhere with the other clothes.

“Can I taste you?” Your hips almost buck at the way he asks it, the way he looks at you, him, but you settle for a “yes”. He licks an experimental stripe up to your clit, circling it clumsily but still enough to feel good. You moan softly, Dalton taking it as his cue to keep going. He doesn’t really have a technique, as expected—you knew he was a virgin when you two got together, but he’s not doing a bad job, either. You can only imagine how good he’ll get with more practice.

“Am I-?” Dalton pulls away, looking back up at you.

“Try sucking on my clit, just a little. Not too hard.” Dalton nods, licking back up to your clit and sucking, like you told him to.

“Oh my God.” You moan, Dalton sucking at your clit again, anything to get you to make that sound again.

“Need your fingers.” You whimper, “Please, wanna feel them inside—oh!” Dalton easily slides one in, moaning against you at the feeling of you around his finger. “One more, please-“He slides another one in, stretching you open as he licks around and on your clit. He pulls away, his fingers still inside you as he looks up at you.

“Do you like it like this?” He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, gaging your reaction.

“Yeah—curl them up a bit, like,” you make a “come here” movement with your fingers. Dalton mimics you, pumping his fingers the slightest bit faster as he curls them. “Wanna kiss you when you cum—“ he tells you.

“Then get back up here and kiss me.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, speeding up his motions as he moves back up to kiss you. You two separate with moans and gasps, surprised your teeth aren’t clashing with the way he’s kissing you. You can already feel the coil tightening as he fingers you, but when he moves his thumb up to circle your clit, you go over the edge, tucking your face into his neck as you come undone.

“Holy shit,” Dalton pants, “I made you cum.”

You nod, smiling, dazed after the intensity of your orgasm. “I did, hard.” Dalton laughs, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. Before he can do anything with them, you take his hand, guiding his fingers to your mouth and sucking them gently. Dalton watches you, mesmerized at the way your cheeks hollow, the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

“I need to fuck you.” Dalton pulls his fingers out of your mouth, “Shit, condom. Uh-“

“You can pull out.” You assure him. “I’m on the pill, anyway.” Dalton almost passes out at the idea of being inside you bare, but manages to stay upright. “Is this position-“

“Dalton?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off. “Like you.”

Dalton smiles, lining himself up with you. “Wait.” Before you can ask what’s wrong, Dalton takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and holding them down on the bed. The intimacy of the gesture makes your eyes well up again. You don’t miss the way Dalton’s face falls, and before he can ask, you tell him the truth.

“That was just sweet—I just really, really love you.” You admit. Dalton kisses your forehead once more, pushing in with his lips still against your skin.

You both moan together as Dalton pulls back out, then plunges all the way in again. He keeps at the slow pace for a little bit, you getting more exasperated. “You can go faster.” You tell him, assuming he’d been afraid to hurt you.

“I know.” Dalton smiles cheekily, “Just wanted to tease you. Make you beg for it.”

You gasp at his dirty talk and newfound cockiness, tossing your pride aside and giving in. “Please, Dalton, please fuck me harder, I need it so bad-“

Dalton moans, giving in and speeding up his thrusts, grabbing onto the mattress with his free hand, balling up the bedding as he pounds you.

“Feels so fucking good, beautiful-“ Dalton ducks his head down, kissing your neck as his thrusts speed up, “-‘m not gonna last—“

“Let go.” You encourage him, “I came already, just let go—“

It’s as if his body was waiting for those words to finally let go, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He weakly thrusts his way through it, pumping you full as he cums.

“Fuck, baby.” Dalton breathes out shakily, kissing your neck softly before pulling away to look at you. “Came so hard, don’t know if I can walk.”

“Then don’t.” You offer. “Just lay with me.”

Dalton nods, smiling softly as he pulls out, laying next to you and pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“We should probably clean up soon, though.” You tell him. “Don’t wanna traumatize Chris.”

Dalton laughs, “We don’t have to worry about Chris. I paid her 10 bucks to crash in a friend’s room.”

“You planned this?” You ask, feigning offense.

“I planned the seduction, not you telling me you loved me.” He defends himself. “Like i’d only fuck you once in a night.”

“You didn’t know how it would go!”

“I knew I wouldn’t be done with you yet.”

You smile, nuzzling your head into his chest. “I wanna do all of that and more, but for right now I just wanna use you as a pillow for a little bit.”

“You want a hoodie?” Dalton offers. “We could watch a movie for a little bit. Don’t want you getting cold.”

You smile, nodding. “Always taking care of me.”

Dalton shakes his head, getting up and pulling on his boxers to find you a hoodie of his.

“Not as good as you take care of me, baby.”

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert smut #dalton lambert x reader #insidious the red door

[jaywonjuice]

hiii! i saw your requests were open! i was wondering if you could write a jake drabble/scenario where the reader and him get into an argument and instead of making him sleep on the couch, the reader voluntarily does so instead and the aftermath (apologies) afterwards? hopefully that makes sense ☺️ thank you so much in advance and i’m looking forward to it!!

~ 🩵

aaa my first ever request !! :3 tysm for this, i thought it was a rly sweet idea and i rly rly hope you like how the piece turned out !<3

timeless. ~ s.jy

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre angst, fluff, oneshot

warnings verbal fight, physical contact, kissing, mention of drowning

wc 1.27k

[00:00] you watched as the alarm clock on your nightstand ticked over midnight and beeped into the darkness. you hugged your knees to your chest, feeling as if you were glued to this spot, huddled up in the middle of the bed. a lump began to form in your throat.

he forgot.

you and jake had been dating for a year now, and to be truthful, it was the happiest you had been in a long time. through all the low points he’d been there, from staying up to cuddle with you on the sofa after the long hard days at your stressful job, to wiping away your tears with his gentle touch, refusing to leave your side until he saw you smile again. you honestly had to pinch yourself sometimes to check you weren’t dreaming, that he was really yours - your gorgeous, sweet, golden retriever boyfriend.

but he forgot. he’d forgotten your one-year anniversary. and you knew that it shouldn’t matter to you so much but it did. you’d waited hopefully all day for him to text or call, and when your phone finally buzzed you’d rushed to read the message excitedly.

jake🩶

should still make tn but schedule’s running late, prob won’t get there til like half 12 xxxxxxx

your heart had sunk. you’d really thought he might have something special planned in secret, a surprise date at a fancy restaurant maybe, so you hadn’t brought it up just in case. but now you felt like a fool, hopes crushed. he clearly wasn’t thinking about you. maybe he just didn’t love you anymore.

your spiralling thoughts were cut off abruptly by the sound of the apartment door opening and then latching shut softly. shortly afterwards a shadowy shape appeared standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

‘hey baby,’ said jake with a broad smile. entering the room he flicked the lights on, casually running his fingers through his hair and letting out a contented sigh, as if he hadn’t just crushed your heart. ‘i thought you might’ve been asleep. why are you just sitting here in the dark?’

his smile faltered as he took in your expression. you were staring at him dully with tired eyes. he thought you looked smaller than usual, sat hunched there, blanket wrapped around your shoulders in the middle of the bed. concern flickered across his features. ‘baby, has something happened?’

you scoffed, turning away from him. ‘“has something happened?” no, actually, as a matter of fact absolutely nothing happened all day.’

he regarded you, puzzled. ‘baby i don’t understand,’

‘today was our anniversary, jake,’ you answered him cooly. ‘we’ve been together for an entire year and you didn’t even remember.’

you watched as the realisation crept over his face.

‘oh gosh, yeah, it totally slipped my mind!’ he furrowed his brow, thinking. ‘let’s go to the movies tomorrow, hmm? a proper date, to celebrate,’ he offered with a smile.

‘no,’ you shot back without a moment’s pause. ‘it’s not the same. we can’t just do it tomorrow. it won’t be special, we’ve missed our chance.’

‘what do you mean it won’t be special?’ he scratched his head, clearly growing frustrated with the conversation. ‘we’d be doing the exact same thing just on a different day, it doesn’t make any difference.’

‘jake, this was important to me!’ you were shouting now, unable to remain calm with how easily he seemed to dismiss your feelings.

‘hey don’t yell at me!’ he put his hands up. ‘we can just go tomorrow can’t we?! seriously what is the issue here, all i want is to just be with you-’

‘well i don’t want to be with you!’ you spat.

his jaw worked. something about his gaze shifted, and his eyes hardened. you knew then that you’d hurt him.

‘just forget it,’ you huffed, pushing yourself up off the bed and making to storm out of room. jake stuck his arm out to block the door. ‘look, if you’d just listen-’

‘forget it, i said,’ you repeated yourself, pushing his arm out of the way before adding, ‘you’re good at that.’ with that you left the room, your blanket trailing behind you.

.❦.

[11:44] when you awoke on the sofa the following morning, it was to a sore back and a throbbing head. it had taken you hours to fall asleep and you felt anything but rested. your cheeks felt tight with the stains of dried tears, and as you sat up straight the events of the previous evening flooded your mind.

jake. as you remembered the wounded look on his face at your hurtful words, your heart ached, adding to your long list of pains. ‘such an idiot,’ you groaned, head in your hands.

berating yourself did little to relieve your discomfort however, so you dragged yourself up off the sofa and made your way blearily to the kitchen.

as you reached for the medicine cabinet, something stuck to the fridge caught your eye. a little envelope was tucked under one of your little puppy fridge magnets. removing it carefully, you turned it over in your hands to find your name scrawled on the back.

you opened it up and read:

morning angel,

you know i’m not good with words, but i need you to know how much i love you, and how sorry i am that i hurt you.

i should never have said the things i said. i know now how important this was for you and i should’ve been more understanding from the start.

it’s not that i don’t care, honestly it’s quite the opposite. i just want to celebrate every day that i get to spend loving you. you see, i think we’re timeless baby, no matter how long i’m with you i’m always going to be crazily in love with you, until we’re old and grey. no matter when someone asks me, now or fifty years from now, i’m gonna be telling them that you’re my baby, forever and always.

yours,

jake

p.s. i’m really sorry this is all in writing and not in person, but i had things scheduled all morning that i couldn’t get out of :( i promise i’m gonna make it up to you

p.p.s. i’m also sorry for my atrocious handwriting (you’re right, it does kinda look like a drunk spider slipped in ink and danced across the page)

the sheet of paper trembled in your hands.

‘y/n?’

you looked up with a jolt to see jake stood watching you by the door, his face fraught with concern. your eyes filled with tears as they met his, and he dropped his bags to the floor and rushed over to you. he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you.

‘jake,’ you were sobbing into his chest now. ‘jake i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry.’

‘shhh, i know baby, i know,’ he stroked the back of your head gently. ‘i’m sorry too.’

still a sniffling mess, you continued ‘i do want to be with you, i want to be with you forever and.. i want to be timeless with you.’

you tilted your head up to face him, eyes shining. ‘please,’

he held your face in his hands as he leant in to kiss you, his thumb brushing against your cheek gently. the way he kissed you made you feel like you were both alive and burning all at once, like he was a breath of fresh air, like you were drowning. when he finally pulled away, he smiled, running his thumb along your puffy bottom lip, before replying softly ‘yeah, timeless sounds good to me.’

pls don’t hesitate to send me requests ! i love writing these sm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

#enhypen fluff #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enha #enhypen reactions #sim jake #sim jaeyun #enha jake #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha x y/n #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha soft hours #enha drabble #jake angst #jake imagines #astrid answers ☆

[personwhowrites]

Task Force 141 plus Alejandro reaction if you’re sick.

Sadly, I have gotten the virus after being out of my country. Funny how I’m the only one that got it out my whole family, I have been vacationed but still got it. I felt like I myself needed some comfort so this came up to my mind. Sorry if it’s dry, I passed out in the middle of writing and couldn’t bring myself to write more so this is my half finish thing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

John “Captain” Price

This man is scared of getting sick himself. He will be in the between of helping you or just staying away from you.

If ge does stay away from you, this man will stay away. Need to use the bathroom? This man will literally run everything with bleach once your out.

He will spray the whole damn base with those Air sprays that claim they will help kill the germs.

He does somewhat help you, he puts food out by your door every few minutes for you. He does make sure to get everything you need.

He does become weak when you whine about wanting a hug. He will will hug you, but don’t be surprise when he appears with twelve medical masks on his face when he does hug you.

He literally won’t let any of the members see you, his scared of you getting them sick.

He checks up on you regularly when your asleep or knocked out by the medicine he bought you.

When he sees your doing better this man will come to your room. Grab all the tissues, paper and bags of your sickness and burn it outside.

He does sometimes stays in your room while you complain about being sick. It hurts him to see you all sick and tired.

He knows it’s a risk to be in your room for so long, yet he stays then sprays himself with the spray.

If he does decide to stay with you, this man will be on his knees for you.

He will get you whatever need, Hugs, cuddles and kisses. He treats you like baby not wanting you to get up unless is for the bathroom or to shower.

When you do shower he will be right in there in the bathroom making sure you can handle yourself.

In a relationship with him or not, he won’t leave your side at any point. Will waste his whole day taking care of you.

He lets you wear his shirts for more comfortable feeling when his gone. He loves to see you sleeping in his shirts. It does something to him that he doesn’t understand.

He makes sure your comfortable at all times. Even if it means getting sick himself.

He will also keep you all to himself, won’t let the others help take care of you. He will slam the door in their face and go back to you.

He lets you wear his shirts for mo

“Price… no! Your gonna get sick because of me.” You groan as he cuddles you close. “I don’t want you sick..”

“If it means getting sick.. to take care of you it’s worth it.” Price says kissing your forehead. “Now rest up, I won’t leave you..”

Kyle “Gaz”Garrick

This man will be scared when you get sick. If you say your dying he will actually believe it and cry about it.

He will stick to you like glue, literally..he won’t leave you alone for second. If you do mange to escape him into the bathroom he will wait outside.

He does wear a medical mask around you for safety measures and because Price told him to.

He will cook you anything you wish and sneak out the base to get you whatever you want. He risks his damn career for you.

When your sleeping he will sit next to your bed and remain there. Will ignore the others when they tell him to leave you alone to rest.

Talking about the others, this man will also push them away. Not wanting them to take you a way from you. He locks the door when you don’t notice so the others don’t come in.

He will listen to you talk about the most random things, even comment stuff himself.

He will have a bunch of movies at hand for you and him to watch. He loves holding you close as you watch the movies and laugh.

If someone for example Soap brings you food he will say he bought it for you. Jealous feeds into him, he wants you to himself.

When you need to shower he will get in with you. Sometimes with clothes or without clothes. He will clean you up and wrap you in the towel like a baby. He even goes as far to dress you and carry you back to the room.

He gets super jealous if call someone else to help you with something. He starts locking the door for that reason.

He begs you to wear his shirts, so he can feel more possessive over you. He knows it’s wrong, but he loves the feeling of owning you at times.

If in a relationship or not, this man will be on his knees for you. Caring for you as if you were a goddess, kiss you no matter how sick you are.

“Gaz st—“ you says before he plants another sloppy kiss on your lips. “Your gonna get sick!”

“This might sound weird but.. I don’t care, now come here!” Gaz says with a smile before suffocating you with his hug. “Your mine y/n.”

John “Soap” MacTavish

Sick? That word isn’t in his book. This man will kiss, hug and cuddle you. No matter how sick you are, it doesn’t exist to him.

He will buy anything you talk about. He doesn’t care how much it is, only for it makes you feel better.

Like Gaz he will want to keep you to himself. He is a person that starves for your physical touch. He will let the others come in and see you, but not for to long.

When your hungry he will try his best to cook you food. Sometimes burning it, but hey it’s the thought that counts.

He does order food for you and him a lot. He try’s his best to give you all you could want while your sick. He does have to ask price to get some medicine since he doesn’t want to leave your side.

Germs doesn’t exist to this man. You sneeze? He will kiss you right after you clean your nose.

He will praise you for the smallest thing you do, even if it’s just turning to face him.

He loves holding your hand at all times, making sure you can feel comfortable with it first. He will kiss it too when your distracted looking at something on the Tv.

When you need to shower, he will do that for you. Washes your hair the most gentle way and scrubs your body the best way he can without causing harm for you. Making sure the water is warm at all times.

After the shower he will make you wear his shirts and poke at you since it’s slightly big on you.

In a relationship or not he will still hug you tightly and make sure your treated well. He doesn’t like seeing you sick ether, it pains him.

He lays down in bed with you when your ready to sleep. He won’t move an inch while you hold him tightly in your sleep. He will ignore all his needs and only pay attention to you.

He gives you massages and lets you talk about anything, like anything that comes up to your mind he will have a whole conversation until you fall asleep.

He feeds you, like baby feeds you. He doesn’t want you to lift a finger for anything unless it’s needed, like really needed.

He does clean the room when your sleeping without a need to hold you. He will make sure someone else watches you while he goes outside quickly to burn the bags of tissues away.

“..Soap?” You mumble hugging his arm. “Aren’t you worried you will get sick?”

“Sick? Please that word exist to me.” Soap responds looking at you and kisses your forehead. “Now get some rest, you need it for being so strong today.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

This man is somewhat like price. He will try to avoid your touch when your sick. Mostly like a regular for him, but if he sees your getting worse he will react.

He will stand by your door and watch you sleep. Like a stalker vibe watch. Price will have to move him away at times to let you rest.

He isn’t one to get physical with you, yet he grabs your hands at times when your crying about being sick.

He doesn’t like you being sick, it makes him feel scared. (Shocking!) He try’s his best to confront you.

He brings you some food at times and watches you eat so he is sure you are getting the energy you need.

His silent when his in the room with you, he just sits then and watches you. Like a hawk, he only makes himself known when your about to get up for something.

When you need to shower he will stand outside the bathroom door. The others will try to ask him why, but he will remain silent until they realize the water is running in the bathroom.

When your sleeping he will lay next you and play with your hair, it’s the only chance he gets to be near you. One where you won’t ask questions about it and there is silence.

He loves it when you just ask him to stay when he gets up from the chair across the room.

Confesses his love for you while you sleep. It’s the only way he can get himself to tell you, he does it pretty much every time you sleep.

When he sees your gone form your room when he went out with Price to get medicine he will panic. Like badly panic and search the whole damn base for you only to realize you fell asleep in the bathroom.

He cleans after you, making sure the germs don’t stay in your room to long.

Now if you were in a relationship with this man. He won’t leave you alone like Gaz. He will protect you with his life.

He does lock the door when your asleep so no one enters and bothers you. Soap once came in the middle of you sleeping and screamed thinking it was funny. It wasn’t for ghost who immediately ran after him.

He holds you tightly and makes sure you sleep in one of his hoodies. So when his out on something you won’t feel alone.

He loves holding you close and will admit to you, knowing you will forget the next day about it.

Praises you like Soap, but way more. Blink? He will praise you for it, sometimes you tease him about it.

“Night Ghost.” You say laying down and immediately falling asleep.

“Mhm..” Ghost hums before waiting a couple minutes. “..I love you..”

Alejandro Vargas

This man will be taking care of you like a queen. Some similarities to Soap. He will make sure nothing bothers you.

He will cook you dozen of meals you wish for. Rodolfo softly jealous because of it.

He will make sure your comfortable, happy and good with everything around you.

Gives you a rose with every meal, morning or any activity you do with him.

He does take good care of you, giving you all the attention you could ever need from a man. He does go overboard at times without knowing it.

Like soap, he will give you a bath, but way more over the top. Putting roses, candles and romantic music in the background.

He does make you do activities all the time. He doesn’t want you laying down for to long, he thinks that’s how sick people get worse.

His does get scared when your sick, he has a bad pass with people in his life dying to sickness. (Cannon in my au)

He fears that you will be gone from him. Making him always be there for you, even ignore work for some time. Rodolfo does drag him back to work though.

In or not in a relationship with him he will still take care of you. Making sure your alright since your Wally important to him in his life. He does worry sometimes that you will be gone too long form work and comes to check on you.

Like the others he will burn the bag of germs away. He doesn’t want anyone else in his team getting sick. Pains him to see sick people at times knowing he can’t help sometimes.

He has someone watching you when his away.

He always makes sure to leave you some sort of gift around the house. So you have the energy to get up and do something.

“Mi Amor! Come on get up.” Alejandro says tugging your arm. “I don’t want you laying down to much.”

“I don’t wanna…I’m tired.”. you mumble softly only to hear a small cry form him. “Never mind! Let’s do this!”

#captain price x you #captain price x reader #captain price #john price #price x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #alejandro x oc #alejandro x you #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #cod #cod fandom #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #fluff

[digitaldiarystuff]

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) Pt. 2

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff/ smut

————

You woke up with a massive hangover and for a second forgot about last night. That was until you picked up your phone to a hundred messages from Pablo, Pablo Gavi.

They started with a slight denial.

“What makes you think that??”

Then got a little freaked out.

“Did someone tell you that?”

And then came the confession.

“Yeah, I am.”

But it didn’t stop there.

“Okay yes I lied but you would never talked to me if you knew, I could sense your panic while asking my age and I freaked out I’m sorry but I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

“Did I blow my chance?”

Then he got agitated.

“Are you going to leave me on delivered for ever?”

“Why aren’t you saying something?”

“Are you asleep?”

You were in shock for most of the texts but him asking if you’re sleeping via text got to you and you started cracking up. He was a little too needy and now that you know you have a 4 year age gap and he’s a football star you just couldn’t continue this. However, his infatuation with you kind of made your heart flutter, he was too sweet and persistent for his own good. One text won’t hurt, you thought.

“Yes, I’m asleep at the moment.” you said and got a response in less than a minute.

“Ha ha very funny, have I told you I have a thing for funny girls?”

“You apparently also have a thing for older girls?” you teased. His age was still a problem.

“Maybe I have a thing for you.” and when you didn’t answer “Look I really am sorry I was just afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if you knew my age.” and another “You know billions of people in relationships have age gaps and they all get along well.”

“Are you only this talkative when you’re sober or did I drink too much last night?”

“Okay I understand I’m not on your best side right now but I’m free tonight if you want to meet and I can show you why age doesn’t matter.”

Your mind went blank for a second and you remembered how his hands and lips made you feel last night, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time and to be fair, Pablo looked far more attractive than any guy around you and his text just rose your heartbeat but your obsession with his age was nagging your brain constantly.

“I’m busy” you said terrified about his effect on you.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t”

“The day after?”

“Can’t”

He sent a frowny face emoji and you thought it was the end of the conversation. It made you a little sad but you wouldn’t admit it but a few minutes later you got another text.

“What are you doing now?”

You stupidly thought this was just an ice breaker and said you were at home not doing anything.

“Then send me your address” he texted and you realized he wouldn’t give up easily. You mentally slapped yourself but gave him the address anyway. He said he’d be at yours in half an hour which was too little in your opinion, your home was a mess and so were you.

After taking a quick shower you weighed your options about outfits, it should be put together but not too fancy or he’d think you wanted to look good for him, which you did.

Finally you decided on biker shorts and an oversized crewneck. And you also applied some concealer under your eyes and started putting the dishes in your dishwasher and even stuffed all your clothes lying around your room to your closet hoping he wouldn’t snoop in there. Thank god your roommate was at work and you didn’t have to worry about her. As you were finishing up cleaning around the doorbell rang and you took a breath and saw Pablo on the side, your drunk mind didn’t play any games to you and he still was gorgeous. His hair was wet and he had a duffle bag on his shoulder smiling widely at you.

“Hi” he said timidly.

“Hi, come in” you said and let him in. “Were you at training?” you asked given his outfit and bag. He sat down on one side your L shaped sofa and you sat on the opposite side.

“Yeah, I came straight out of practice.”

“So when you texted me”

“Yes I was still on the pitch.” he said giggling.

You loved how much effort he put into just texting you but also hated how it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to drink anything?” you asked whilst getting up.

“Just water would be fine.” he shrugged and you got 2 bottles giving him one. You hated how your eyes diverted to his biceps while he was grabbing it. He really made this hard for you.

You both took sips and didn’t talk for a moment.

“Look Pablo, I” he cut you off with a kiss. His hands found your cheeks and you reciprocated after a second placing yours on his chest. He backed down after a moment to seize your reaction. But he saw you, eyes closed and enjoying yourself so he kissed you again. This time he was much more confident in his moves, he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him like you weighed nothing, getting you more aroused. Your legs were on both his sides as you never broke the kiss. He then started kissing your chin and neck making his way around your body and you used this opportunity to get rid of his shirt.

His hands held your lower back and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him invitingly. His eyes rolled back for a second and said “Can I?” and you just nodded. He took your hoodie off and saw you weren’t wearing any bra underneath.

“I see you’ve prepared for me.” he cockily smirked and you rolled your eyes but his confidence made you want him even more. He hungrily attacked your breasts with his mouth while you were rocking your hips and pulling the hair on the nape of his neck. You could feel his bulge underneath you growing every second. He then made you lay down on the couch and went for your leggings, looking to your eyes for permission.

“Please” you said in a small voice and were shocked about how needy you were. This was new to you.

He smiled and rolled your leggings down your legs. Suddenly you felt overly exposed and reality hit for a second until he saw you were wearing a burgundy lacy thong, he smiled but kept his mouth shut. You could practically see the lust in his eyes and that made all insecurities disappear. He started toying with the hem of your underwear and you were barely able to wait.

“C’mon Pablo I need you to show me age doesn’t matter.” you whined hoping to get some action and it seemed like it worked. He didn’t even took your thong off just shoved it aside and started to pepper some kisses around your core. He also started to rub your inner thighs and when you were about to complain again, he shushed you with a lick across your folds and all your words disappeared immediately. You forgot how to breathe for a second but Pablo kept on going and going until you were arching your back and screaming his name. After you came, he wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath but he was about to explode if he stopped now. He was a goner as soon as he heard his name roll over your tongue as high pitched moans. He freed his member and started running his hands over it a few times before reaching out his pocket and pulling a condom out, you rolled your eyes again but he smirked and said “I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you”

He put it on your entrance and checked if you’re okay with this but all you could muster was a nod. You were still seeing clouds because of the orgasm he gave you mere seconds ago. He coated himself with your juices and pushed it in. You yelped at the feeling but he wasn’t going to give you time to adjust as he started thrusting with all his power. All the practice he goes through daily made his stamina another level and his movements never slowed down only sped up and after a while you both became undone.

Both of you were still trying to catch your breaths, his head was on your chest and his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and you melted, he looked like an angel even though he did some devilish stuff to you minutes ago, his eyes were the best brown you’ve ever seen with hints of honey and his post hair sex was even more appealing than his regular hair.

You didn’t say anything but he still understood what you wanted to say and kissed your lips, not like the previous ones fueled by lust, just adoration and you smiled into the kiss realizing maybe age really didn’t matter.

————

note: okokok just hear me out, this is the first time i’m ever trying to write smut and i don’t even know what to think but i hope you enjoy it, lmk if you have any ideas

#football #football imagine #football x reader #football x y/n #football oneshot #football x you #fc barcelona #pablo gavi #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi one shot #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi blurb #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavira #gavi #football blurb #football one shot #football fluff #football smut

[bby-deerling]

Hi Cille! Love your writing, "Distraction" lives in my mind absolutely rent free. Halfway through reading it, I had to stop and just held onto the wall for a second. Congrats on all your new followers! May I request a Law + Threatened + NSFW? Cheers! -miss

ahh i loved this request! as a special treat i made it with the same reader from distraction and counting coins in mind!

law x afab!fem!reader + threatened (nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 1.0k masterlist song inspo

cw: blood, law is just a smidgen unhinged, fingering, implied oral (reader receiving)

Idling away beneath the crashing waves for weeks on end, it was easy to cast aside the more violent aspects of your partner.  Spending your days cooped up in the lab and evenings cooped up in his office, it was easy to shelve all the fact that Law had killed over one hundred pirates with decent sized bounties and sent their hearts in boxes to Marine Headquarters.  When he holds you close to his chest in the morning, half-asleep and looking as innocent as the day he was born, your mind and heart weren’t capable of acknowledging anything but the overflowing love and kindness he showed to you during private moments together.

However, the carnage unfolding before you was impossible to ignore.

It was your fault, really; you had gotten yourself mildly injured despite being ordered to fall back.  The shift in Law was subtle to the unattuned observer, but you had no doubt in the fact that something in his mind had snapped when he saw crimson liquid trickling down your thigh.

The heat of battle turns some dizzy with rage, but Law’s bloodlust is dark, quiet, and calculated.  He doesn’t deviate from his plan, not for one second, but he becomes more sadistic, cruel, and not afraid to spill a bit of unnecessary blood.  Less hesitant, he goes through the motions, trusting in his initial strategic instincts rather than hanging back to regularly reassess the situation as he normally would.

As your crewmates celebrate a battle won, none the wiser to your Captain’s shift in attitude, you eye him carefully.  It was far from the first time you’ve seen him like this, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it always unnerved you when he was so different from the Law you mill around in coin stores with, or the Law who can’t hide the smile when he sees the notes and doodles you leave on his desk, or the Law who presses sweet kisses into your thigh, playfully teasing you as he makes you unravel for him.  An aura of angst and darkness surrounded him, invisible to seemingly everyone else but you; a shiver of anticipation rushes down your spine when he glances at you for a brief moment and his eyes are seemingly darker than his hair.

When you get back to the Polar Tang, Bepo tries to clumsily patch your small scrape up, but you insist it just needed cleaned up a bit, and that you could handle it yourself.

“Leave it until I can take care of it.” Law warns, his glare still intense from the heat of battle.  You don’t dare to disobey him when he’s in a touchy mood like this, but you do become impatient as one by one, your crewmates are attended to and sent out of the infirmary.  Your injury was extremely minor, so it made sense to treat you last, but you had the gnawing suspicion that even after you had been cleaned up, you would be trapped within these four walls for quite a while; you are proven correct when he locks the door after Penguin finally leaves, staring you down like a leopard stalking its prey and waiting for it to make any sudden moves.

“You didn’t listen to me.  Now look at you.” he said lowly.  Inhaling deeply, you prepare yourself for a lecture for not being careful enough in battle.

“It’s just a scrape Law, I’m sorry—”

“Get on the bed.”

Wordlessly, you climb onto the cold, sterile hospital bed, heart pounding so hard you hear it in your ears.  Law is careful with his footsteps as he approaches, baited by the scent of your viscous, drying blood covering your leg.  Even in his haze of anger, frustration, neediness, and bloodlust, he’s careful and calculated as he slowly drags his fingers along the inside of your thigh.

“How come you always listen to me so well, except for when your life is on the line, hm?” he murmurs in your ear, sending a pulse straight to your core.  He chuckles at your visible reaction to just his words and a few light touches, and gently traces his tattooed fingers along your clothed slit.

Law was methodical, precise, and loving with his touches—except for the rare moments like these where there is something deeper and rougher bubbling beneath the surface.  His mouth is hungry for the taste of your lips, eagerly meeting your tongue with his and leaving harsh bites on your bottom lip each time he pulls away.  He’s rough when he pulls your shorts and panties to the side and slides two of his fingers inside of you, muffling your gasps and moans with his own lips.

You grip the thin paper sheet on the bed as he sinks down your torso, but his mouth doesn’t reach your clit.  He dips lower, and you gasp out when he licks at the blood on your leg.  He moans at the sounds you make as his tongue drags across your wound, sending vibrations through your trembling body.  It was mesmerizing, watching him obsessively drink each drop of your blood—of your life’s essence, determined to consume you whole.

And then you kill the mood.

“Is there a certain class of proteins in saliva that make wounds heal faster, or is that a myth?” you ask, immediately biting your tongue when you remember he’s probably in no mood to talk about this right now. 

To your surprise, he looks up at you, darkness fading from his eyes and wearing a lopsided grin on his face.  “Histatins.  The amount of tissue factor also increases the rate of blood clotting.” he says, before dragging his tongue one final time along your little scrape, sinking his fingers deeper inside you at the same time.

“T-think I’d be able to make some synthetically?” you ask, stuttering as you try to string together a coherent sentence.

“Course you can.  You’re the smartest woman I know.  Not sure how effective it would be in vivo though.” he says, curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot.

You let out a shaky exhale, partly in pleasure and partly in relief.  Trafalgar Law is a terrifying monster on the battlefield, and while it is exciting to briefly feel that intensity directed towards you, nothing beat the way that your Law—not the Surgeon of Death or Warlord of the Sea, just Law—looked at you with that dorky smirk and adoration in his eyes as he fucked you with his fingers.

#one piece x reader #x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #mdni #one piece smut #100 follower event