#her at home looks are comfy sweaters and soft leggings ALL DaY

[beenbaanbuun]

misunderstandings w/ san

words - some

genre - fluff/angst with a dash of nsfw but not smut

warnings - horny!san, soft!san, sad!reader, misunderstandings, san in grey sweatpants, mentions of sex, no actual sex/sexual acts, reader speaks in riddles and expects san to understand

it’s no surprise to anyone that san likes to be cosy and comfy

we’ve all seen that fuzzy great sweater that he always wears

that thing looks like it would send me to sleep within seconds of putting it on, but i digress…

another item of clothing he keeps close to his heart is sweat pants, more specifically grey ones

he says they’re just comfy, but you know exactly why he wears them

they cling to his thighs so nicely and leave very little to the imagination

sometimes just seeing him in them is enough to drive you insane

it’s even worse if he takes a shower before putting them on, because 9 times out of 10, that man is not putting underwear on with them

a shirt is also optional… apparently san just doesn’t like the way they feel when his skin is damp

personally, you think san just does it because he knows it drives you crazy

in fact, there’s been more than a few times when you’ve texted san throughout your day at work about how much you miss him

and shown up at the end of the day with him on your couch, just like that; half naked with sopping wet hair

and whilst ‘i miss you’ usually is just code for ‘i’m horny’, sometimes it just means you’re having a bad day and want to hold him close for the rest of the day

either way, you don’t mind showing up to your house with a half naked san on your couch

you’re about to get the best dick of your life, or incredibly soft cuddles

it all depends on your response to his obvious advances, although sometimes he isn’t the best at taking hints

“you’re home,” he opens his arms the moment you walk through the door, as if asking for a hug

you’re more than happy to oblige, dumping your bag on the floor and letting your tired body collapse onto his

it had been a frustrating day to say the least

your coworker had been off so her work had been passed to you, despite the fact that no one person would be able to do all of that by themselves

still, the boss expected it whether you complained or not

saying you were drained was an understatement

as your body connects with san’s, he grunts, but catches you effortlessly

“fucking hell, babe,” he squeezes you gently as he holds you to his chest, “careful, yeah?”

you nod half heartedly into the damp skin of his neck

“you’re naked,” you deadpan, snuggling into his warmth a little

you know what it means, but you haven’t quite decided whether that’s what you want or not

maybe sex would take your mind off the day behind you

or maybe it would overstimulate you and send you spiralling… who’s to know!

“hardly,” he replies, “i have my sweatpants on…”

“and what are the chances of there being something underneath,” you wait for his response, but he stays silent which tells you everything you need to know

not that you need any confirmation; you can feel his hardening dick pressing against your thigh

you decide then and there that no, sex definitely would not be the best option

the thought alone of the ache that would follow is enough to make you decide that you certainly could not handle it right now

“it’s covered, is it not?” he finally says through pouted lips

you sit up fully and look at him with a fed-up expression, hoping he gets the message

you’d never been too good at saying no to people

something along the lines of not wanting to disappoint people

usually you just dropped hints and hoped for the best; san usually understood sooner or later

“it’s rock hard against my leg, san,” you scoff, “i don’t think your sweatpants are going to stop me from feeling that…”

he shrugs with a smirk

“that sounds like a you problem,” he says, which is actually factually incorrect, “maybe you should do something to sort it out…”

you can’t help but sigh at his inability to take any sort of hint

“or maybe, you can take yourself up to the bathroom and get rid of the problem yourself!”

it’s more obvious that the glare you gave him previously

still, the smirk remains as though you’re just teasing him

he shakes his head with a grin

“but you’re literally right here,” he whines, “and the bathroom is all the way upstairs…”

“i’m not in the mood to ache right now, sannie,” you once again, drop a hint that he, once again, completely disregards

in fact your statement makes him smile, clearly happy with what your statement implies about how good he fucks you usually

“i’ll be gentle?”

“san!” you scold, frustrated that your rock-headed boyfriend can’t seem to understand that whether or not he was rough was not the issue here

“i’m just saying,” he puts his hands up defensively

you look down at him with tired eyes, frustrated tears forming in the corners as you grow tired of throwing hint after hint at him

as much as you hated saying ‘no’ so bluntly, you settle on the fact that you might have to

“san,” you start, taking a deep sigh to calm your nerves, “i’m trying to tell you that i don’t want to have sex right now.”

you have to force yourself to look at him

even though you know that he’ll be more than fine with that fact, you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it

and when you look up at him, you can’t help not notice that his face falls a little

not that he’s upset at you not wanting sex, he’s just upset that he clearly misread the situation

and maybe he feels a little (a lot) guilty for pushing so hard when, now that he thinks back on it, you actually weren’t that interested

“oh, baby,” he mumbles softly as he moves his hands to rest against your thighs that sit either side of hips, “bad kind of ‘i miss you’, huh?”

you nod

“the bad kind,” you respond with a shrug, as if you’re trying to pass it off as nothing

but of course, gentleman san would never let that happen

because your emotions are never nothing

“you should’ve told me straight away,” he scolds gently, “or maybe i should’ve asked…” he frowns, “either way, if i’d have known i’d never have pushed so hard… you know that, right?”

you nod ever so slightly

of course you should’ve told him straight away, but again, saying no is hard for you and the ever present fear of disappointment hangs over your head like a rain cloud

and while you were positive that nothing you did could ever disappoint san, there was still something in the back of your brain that told you otherwise

“of course i know that, sannie,” you pout, “but you know me…”

“hm, i do know you,” he mutters as he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, “and i know how scary saying no is, but it’s just me.”

just san… it’s just san

you nod, understanding exactly what he means

there’s no external judgement, or any judgement at all for that matter, because it’s just san

and san doesn’t care about these things

san just wants to make you happy and if sex wouldn’t make you happy, then san would happy live with blue balls for the night

you nod again, more enthusiastic this time

“it’s just you,” you give him a small smile, which he returns without even a second passing

“there’s that pretty smile,” he coos before shifting his hands to your waist and tugging you gently until you’re lay flat against his chest once more

and you’re happy to just lie there in silence as san trails his fingers up and down your spine to soothe you

he’s not asked about your day yet, and he probably won’t for a while, content to sit in silence and love you for now

and you’re content too

very content

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #san fic #san oneshot #san fluff #san x reader #ateez angst #san smut #san angst

[elcpsstuff]

Chaotic Black Friday shopping with Conrad 💕

This too, Please?

a/n: sorry i’ve been so inactive but here’s this little thing. idk what’s going on but it’s very funny so enjoy:)

—

“Please?”

Conrad shakes his head at you. “Baby, just shop online. the stores are a mess.”

You crawl on top of him, falling into his lap softly. “You don’t understand. Belly just told me there was that sweater i’ve been eyeing from Aritzia for MONTHS in store! She went with Jere earlier.”

Conrad gives you a soft smile, “no.”

“Connie!” You whine.

“Baby!” He mocks you which earns him a kick in the leg. He winces. “Hey! what the heck!”

“If you take me i’ll love you forever?”

He smirks, “you already do.”

“Nope. Not anymore.” You go to get up but Conrad pulls you back into his lap.

“Don’t be mean. I want to stay here with you and cuddle all day. that’s all.”

Your heart melts at the boy in front of you, but Belly’s words rang through your ears. You had to stay focused. “Later. I promise we can cuddle and do nothing all night. Okay?”

Conrad sighs, “I love you baby, but you drive me crazy.”

So here you were, rushing to the store to get the sweater that caused all this drama. It turns out the sweater was sold when you got there, but they had some stock online which you ordered right away as soon as you left the store.

You thought Conrad was going to want to go home, but you were surprised when he dragged you into target.

“What the fuck are we doing in target on black Friday, Conrad?”

He smirks, “Okay so there was this like, comforter bean thing on TikTok everybody wears and—”

“omg. the comfy! you want one of those?”

He pulls you in and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. “For both of us. you would look so adorable in it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I am not a barbie doll Conrad Fisher.”

“No. but you are the cutest thing ever.”

Oh he’s got you. That’s how you get the girl all right.

You and Conrad got 2 comfys and instead of going home you got a little side tracked, buying everything on sale. Chips, makeup and while Conrad got tons of blankets.

You were carrying so many bags home, at least 4 each when you walked back into the summer house. You and Conrad were moving in together after this summer. Since you both graduated college this past may, you needed to start prepping for your apartment.

Jeremiah and Belly were side eyeing you two so hard and Belly couldn’t help but laugh when she saw you and Conrad frantically bringing everything inside.

“There is no way you got Conrad to go black Friday shopping. Let alone enjoy it.” Jeremiah yells.

“Jeremiah!” Belly yells at him and slaps his hand. All that does is earn her a kiss.

“Yeah well,” Conrad begins. “Y/n is officially my shopping buddy.”

You roll your eyes, “Wasn’t I that already?”

“You were my girl. Now your my girl and my shopping buddy.” You go to protest but Conrad picks you up and leaves chast kisses down your neck. Jeremiah and Belly look knowing as you both go upstairs to pursue some.. extra curricular activities.

You can bring the bags up later. You had both worked hard.

—

Something short but cute. Happy 50% off week!

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #belly conklin #conrad x reader #team jeremiah #tsitp #love #summer love #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic

[mixreality]

"Good girl"

My inner psychopath can't handle it anymore, so... there it is. English is not my native language! So sorry for mistakes!

Asa Emory with Fem!Reader who becomes his little puppy.

A bit of NSFW in the end

You love animals so much! In your spare time, you work part-time as a dog walker. It was a sunny summer day when HE saw you walking in the park surrounded by several four-legged barking creatures, jumping around, asking to throw them a toy.

Your big eyes, your smile, and your pale (or dark), clear skin glowing in the sun. Perfect. A perfect one to his collection. He's been watching you for quite too long… It's time for the little dog to learn her place…

Asa would be mad at himself it if there was even a single mark on your beautiful body from his instruments or other stuff. So, instead of intravenous anesthesia, he has to make do with a chloroform rag that was securely fixed on your face while you slept in your room. I hope you had a good night's sleep on the way to your new "home".

A nasty white, cold light stabs you sharply in the eyes. Surprisingly, you're not sitting like Gollum in a cramped box, but lying on a creaky bed. The room looks like a mental ward… or a prison.

You want to look around and try to open the door, but something is in your way. Something cold and heavy around your neck. "A collar?! What am I, a dog?!". Right when you thought about it, the door opened with a terrible creak and a masked man entered the room. Your face read animal fear, tears began to flow from your eyes, your voice trembled and begged for mercy.

Asa slowly came closer and closer, viewing you with a kind of… pity? Salty tears leave ugly red marks on your soft skin. So bad. They need to be wiped away. He runs his palm over your cheeks, stroking your face, so caring. At this moment, you feel weirdly…

You cannot remember, how you found yourself walking down an endless halls on all fours, with a chain around your neck like a leash. How long have you been walking like that? Judging by the chafing kneepads, it's been three months for sure, maybe more. Your Stockholm syndrome is kicking in.

And, after some more time, the abandoned building is replaced by a warm house. HIS house. You're used to being treated like a dog, no, you LIKE being treated like dog. You still walk around on all fours, with a leather collar and a gag in your mouth. Good girls should be quiet.

You now have your own little comfy place with a huge cot and a cage (in case you misbehave), somewhere in the furthest room that hardly anyone goes into. When Asa is in the mood, he lets you sit at his legs while he works, or lie on him on the couch. Amazingly, his ruthlessness disappears when you're around (this doesn't negate the fact of the situation you're in).

Clothes? Why do you need clothes? A big black t-shirt and black panties and an anal plug with a tail will suffice. He likes to see your legs and the way you wiggle your ass when you walk, the way your back sags. Asa can give you a sweater if he sees you freezing (sorry, but he doesn't want to have to deal with your fever and snot😢).

"What? Don't you get enough attention? Making puppy eyes because you want more?" with those words, Asa watched you rub against his leg and whimper. "God, what am I doing?" you say to yourself, but you can't stop. Continuing to stroke your head, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his, already aroused cock. It's medium-sized, slightly thickened in the middle, with veins at the base, looking well-groomed (who'd doubt it).

"Lick it. Like a dog. And no hands." It's exciting, but you asked for it. You start at the tip, with the tip of your tongue, in intermittent motions, as if lapping up water. The longer this went on, the more confident you became just licking his cock from base to end. All the way up and down. Running your tongue along every vein. Congratulations, you really have a jaw of steel!

You've lost track of time from the pleasure. Asa's breath hitches slightly, you realize he's about to cum. Yes, your mouth and face are now covered with his seed.

"Oh, look at you, and don't say it's not enough for you. Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, very roughly." Yes. Yes, you're not enough and you want him to take you. Hard. Right now. Bad girl.

#it's my first try in this format #pls don't judge me #:( #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher #slasher movies #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasherfucker #slasher community #the collection #the collector #the collector 2009 #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa emory x you #i hate my existence

[iciclesses]

i need codependent reader x mommy laswell you just gave me such a big brain work oml

cw mommy kink!!

Gosh imagine turning up the hopeless femme just for Laswell so she's taking way more care of you than you need :,)) you know she loves the control, loves that after a hard day of work she make everything perfect and soft for you, her girl ♡

Coming home to you cooking for her, wearing nothing but a big sweater and tiny panties with a glass of her favorite white wine all ready for her!! Getting to hug you from behind, burying her nose in your perfumed hair as you giggle and press yourself against her. You tell her about your day as you're plating your gorgeous meal, and every complaint she's cataloging in her mind. Oil change. Taxes. New dress for your company party. Ran out of chardonnay. Wanting different light bulbs for your lamp where you read. Computer slowing down. She'll fix everything for you baby, don't worry.

After you've eaten, she's cleaning the dishes. Gives you a stern but playful look when you try to insist to help. Pours you another glass of wine instead, sends you and your pouting face off to take a bath. Comes in when you're all settled in under bubbles, sits next to you and rubs scented oils into your skin. Hums you a little tune and tickles you lightly just to see you giggle. Dries you off herself with a soft fluffy towel that you're sure cost way too much money.

Takes you to your bedroom, lies you down gently. Towel long gone, you're fully naked and soft on display for her adoring eyes. She's still fully clothed and you huff a little at the fact. You try and unbutton her blouse but a gentle hand stops you.

"Let mommy take care of you, honey. I know you worked so hard today." It's full of warmth, strength, love. It has you already floating into that fuzzy pretty headspace of just being her good girl as Laswell makes herself comfy between your legs.

#i meant to make this toxic but it turned out soft anon i hope u forgive me #the og post u were replying to i wanted like. Domineering bossy laswell and her hapless gf who depends on her #HOWEVER #i wanted soft so u get soft #noel.haps #laswell x reader #cw mommy kink

[planet-dusk]

you should definitely share the fem!skz thoughts with the rest of the class mhmmm mhmm totally not because i need them more than oxygen or anything 🙄

i was thinking,, what kind of aesthetic would the fem!skz members have...

chan would have emo/e-girl vibes, the type of girl whose wardrobe consists of 99% black. lots of silver jewelry. the chunkier kind,, black leather too, and of course her nails would be painted black as well (a little chipped from biting them). pleated skirts, chain belts and oversized sweaters. big platform shoes to make her look taller and fishnet stockings to show off her pretty legs <33 n piercings! a nose & belly button piercing for sure bc of course chan would have the prettiest tummy :)) her preferred hair color would be black (relaxed, not curled) or 2 tone with either black + silver grey or a neon color

leeknow's style would be a mixture of comfortable athleisure and a more preppy clean aesthetic. padded jackets, hoodies, sweatpants and ofc converse :)) minimal jewelry,, if any. probably just some (cat) bracelets. she'd prefer to dye her hair in natural colors like dark brown. in winter she wears soft chunky wool sweaters. she uses very little makeup but she loves her cherry chapstick, and how it makes her lips all sweet and sticky and kissable <33

changbin would be such a babygirl ! the prettiest in pink, always showing off her gorgeous body <33 the cleavage on this girl 😵‍💫 she'd act all coy about it but loves it when people comment on how pretty she looks today,, bc she works hard for it and everyone should know! would def match her eyeshadow to her top <33 her hair would be black and curled, either short or long she looks great in both :)) binnie's a dress girl, she loves short bodycon dresses (n of course hidden underneath are her perky nipple piercings 🤭)

hyunjin would be the epitome of artsy elegance,, pretty silver rings adorning her long fingers. she keeps her hair short so it doesn't get in the way when she's painting. loves flowy oversized button ups that look like she stole them from someone else's closet. experiments with makeup sometimes but prefers to keep things more natural,, including her hair (but bleaches it sometimes). honestly looks like a dream whatever she wears <33

han would be right at home in leeknow's sweaters :)) sungie loves borrowing her friends' clothes. her style is similar to minho's but with some edgier street vibes thrown in,, like bucket hats and ripped jeans or cargo pants. goes through experimental phases (including a punk phase and dying her hair all colors of the rainbow) but always falls back on her comfy clothes <33 never goes far without her noise canceling headphones

felix likes expensive things,, likes them to be well fitted and neat. she loves soft n cute things too and often mixes aesthetics. a natural blonde <33 knows exactly what flatters her features (makeup, clothes, etc). could be wearing some high end jewelry paired with fluffy knee socks — anything she feels like,, and she looks amazing in it. bright and light colors look best on her but at night she'll turn up wearing a tiny black dress and make everyone do a double take 😵‍💫

seungmin breathes academia vibes! somewhere between light and dark academia, but always looking sharp and pristine. the kind of timeless beauty who knows how to accentuate her features,, with the perfect haircut (somewhere in the middle) and the right amount of makeup to make her beautiful face stand out. she'd wear tortoiseshell rimmed glasses,, a vintage pair she found in a shop downtown. lots of warm brown leather and tweed to finish off her daily look <33

i.n is on top of all the latest trends. she's just so cool 😫 her style is trendy but relaxed,, a city vibe with her oversized jackets and her shoe collection. rocks a bob or a ponytail like no other ! she buys vintage sometimes,, stuff like those 80s adidas jackets, seamlessly mixing them with her modern day sneakers. her style is very laid back but she knows how to dress up n loves a good red lip <33

#answered #comet-falls #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #;skz headcanons

[my-soupy-brain]

accidentally falling asleep on ted after a long day, waking up all bleary eyed and he just coos cause he can’t believe how cute you are

I love this. I think next to sexytimes with Ted, snuggling with this man is top of my list. Like, how can we NOT want to snuggle the hell out of him? Right? Let's gooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: All cute as hell

---

You'd been working your ass off all week. No lie.

Emails, meetings, nonstop press work in the AFC Richmond office. You'd been staying late at the office, or up late with your laptop propped on your lap.

Ted was so good about it. Making sure you ate, making sure you took a break. Foot rubs, back rubs, whatever he could do to help you through it. One week of hell to go and things should calm down.

Should. You hope.

By Friday, you were never so happy for a weekend in your life. Ted had a whole evening planned. Drinks at the pub with friends, a movie when you go home, and then the market on Saturday.

So when he walked in the door Friday evening, you were in comfy clothes and ready to change for a night out with friends.

He sat on the couch, put his arm around you and snuggled you close.

"Happy end of the week, sweetcheeks," he said with a cheery voice, kissing the top of your head.

"Mmm, never been so happy for a weekend in my life."

He nods. "You've been bustin' that pretty little butt all week. It's time to let it all go and relax."

You nod, your arm roped around his middle. Ted was so comfortable. You never weren't attached to each other. On the couch, walking hand-in-hand, snuggling in bed through the night.

"Should we get ready for the pub?" you asked with a yawn.

Ted nods slightly. "If you want to, we've got time though."

Ted's slow caresses down your side and arm were just enough to...

Zzzzz...

Ted hears your soft breathing and a slight snore, and he chuckles just enough but not enough to wake you.

He looks down at his chest where your messy bun has fallen a couple inches down his chest, your hand holding his other side, your leg thrown over his lap. You jolt and burrow into him a little further.

He looks down at your soft breathing and thinks... She is the cutest thing I've ever seen. The sweetest. The sexiest. The best.

She works so hard. So damn hard. She's so good at what she does. The least I can do is show her I appreciate her.

And let her sleep. Just like this. I don't want to be anywhere else.

The pub can wait. Plans can wait. Movie can wait. I just want to be here. Her pillow.

Within thirty minutes though, your eyes pop awake, and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Oh...oh how long was I out?!" you ask, looking down at Ted's sweater and seeing a little wet spot from your sleeping mouth.

"Oh that's embarrassing!" you say, your voice hoarse and cracked from your nap. Ted looks down and grins, pulling you to him to kiss your cheek.

"Aw, darlin', it's no problem. Thirty minutes top, and you needed a little snooze," he answers kindly, nuzzling your cheek with his perfect nose.

"I didn't mean to make us late, I'm just..."

"You're tired, sweetpea. You've been workin' so hard. I don't mind bein' your pillow. Plus, you're so damn cute when you sleep."

"There's nothing cute about that," you say, pointing at your drool.

He chuckles and pulls you back toward his chest.

"Even that is cute as all heck," he murmurs, kissing your hair again. "How ya feelin', sugar?"

You yawn a little and smile. "Better. I needed a little recharge."

"Still wanna go out? Or do you want me to put a rain poncho on so you can go back to sleep?'

You are awake enough to laugh at yourself for that.

"No poncho, no more nappin'. Let's go," you say, stretching your arms. Ted rubs your back gently.

"You call the shots, boss," he adds. "We go home when you're ready."

"Deal."

---

Too. Freaking. Cute. Also, the dream come true. I wanna nap on Ted Lasso! I WANT TO NAP ON TED LASSO! Drool and all. Thanks for this prompt, my friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso IS A WALKING TEDDY BEAR or body pillow #whatever suits you

[em-prentiss]

i’ve always had this sort of idea in my head that during that one valentines day episode when aaron goes to beth’s house after a case, he goes to emily’s instead like. maybe at the beginning they’re on the plane back to quantico and they talk about valentines day plans and emily says she’s just gonna be home and order takeout and recommends this one chinese place to everyone, so when derek asks aaron later before heading home what he’s gonna do he gets the idea of just visiting the place emily talked about. and when he’s there he doesn’t want to sit alone so he kinda just goes to her apartment and asks for her company because he got overwhelmed by the menu💔

That is actually the cutest thing ever I’m sobbing😭 poor Aaron would be so baffled looking at the menu and the place would just feel so busy and filled with couples he’d feel a tiny bit overwhelmed and then suddenly he makes the connection that oh, Emily’s house is actually not that far from the restaurant (hence why she knows it so well lol) so drives there before he can overthink it too much (he nearly talks himself out of it when he gets out of the car, but his stomach is grumbling and though his palms are sweaty, this is Emily; they always had takeout together, in precincts and conference rooms and long car rides). 

So he takes a deep breath and knocks on her door, debating if it’s too late to go back down just when she opens the door and then he stops breathing because she’s wearing a worn sweater and comfy little shorts with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she’s using the corner of it to dab at her teary eyes and he immediately goes what’s wrong are you okay? And she’s like oh my god what the fuck? Lmaooo she was watching some romcoms while she waited for her food (she definitely was not crying, Sergio’s fur just got into her eyes) and she makes up some half assed excuse (that she gets busted for when she lets him in) about stubbing her toe or something and then she’s like are you okay, why are you here? And he turns five shades of red as he explains the situation (they’re still talking at the door, half closed to cover her exposed legs, Sergio curling around her ankles and sniffing curiously at Aaron) and by that point she’s trying not to laugh because how in the world did a Chinese restaurant get her stoic boss so flustered and then wait for it… his stomach audibly rumbles so she laughs outright and lets him in, telling him that her food is already on the way but she’ll order more for him.

He’s, of course, protesting as she picks up the menu and she’s totally ignoring him like mhmmm yeah, so do you have any allergies? And this man is too stunned to speak because it suddenly hits him that he’s in her home with her cat sniffing his shoes and her couch is a mess of balled up tissues and blankets and a half full glass of wine sits on her table so he’s like uhhh no but his brain is all foggy because once he’s in her house she treats him so normally, as if he’s just a guest and not her boss and she orders him more food and pours him a glass of wine and offers him a bunch of chocolates an officer at the precinct they were in gave her just before they left.

While they wait for their food there’s a brief moment of awkwardness that she breaks by making a comment about his fully tailored suit at this time of night and he laughs (laughs!!) and loosens his tie, starts getting comfortable and in turn makes a comment about her crying over romance movies, which she vehemently denies despite all the evidence which makes him laugh again and by this point she throws off the blanket from her shoulders, because she’s suddenly so warm and she gets up to crack a window open.

Then their food arrives and they eat it casually cross legged on the floor and they just have a (surprisingly) good time and by the time he’s leaving they’re both a little tipsy, a little blushing, but he forces himself to leave because her lips are looking just a little too soft (have they always looked like this?) and then the next day at work they suddenly find themselves alone and she’s like… that was fun, wanna do it again☺️? And he’s like yeah, of course, my place this time? And she says yes and asks again after that time and he’s like yeah sure (dinner as friends…right?) and after that she asks again until she finally snaps at him and she’s like I’m trying to ask for a date you fucking idiot and he’s like OH 😀 and then he finally takes her on a date and they have the sweetest first kiss and after that valentines becomes their favorite little holiday because it (and the Chinese restaurant) brought them together 🥺

#inbox #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds #hotchniss hcs

[ashintheairlikesnow]

It Has to Be

For @amonthofwhump 12 Days of Whumpmas, Day 5: Ebenezer Scrooge |Power Outage | Time Loop | Overworked Whumpee | Comfort: Snuggling by the Fire

CW: Intimate whumper, past drugging and noncon, references to captivity and scars

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

As always, Jax (and the mentioned Alfie) belong to @comfy-whumpee and are used with their input and permission.

-

Finley White is getting so tired of looking at Savvie Marcoset’s face. At least during the prepping stages, it’s mostly through videos and photographs. They can turn it off, turn away, take a break. 

But they’re still tired of seeing it.

Not half so tired, they muse, as their client must be.

“Miss Savvie Marcoset, is it really you?! How are you?!”

“It’s Mrs. Savvie Marcoset,” She corrects, prim and proper. Savvie has her hands folded in her lap, her hair pulled back with a clip. The shadows under her eyes are the only sign that she is, at the time this was recorded, someone frantically searching for her missing captive. In a long off the shoulder black sweater and leggings, she seems relaxed and happy. She smiles, gentle and sweet. It looks utterly sincere. “I am married, you know.”

She holds up a hand and waggles her fingers, showing off the brilliance of her diamond ring. 

The person wearing the camera device gasps with audible delight. “Did you really finally get him to put a ring on it? Gosh, Sav, I thought he would never propose!” 

“I know that voice,” Finley White's client says, leaning forward. He frowns, his knee bouncing beneath the table. “I remember she was a twat.”

The corner of Finley’s mouth twitches, a smile they can't quite suppress. “Virginia Marshall, goes by Jennie. Went to college with Savannah Marcoset. The Marshalls were longtime friends with the Marcosets, close enough to be trusted. Jennie was facing some low-level charges of her own and agreed to help build this case as part of a plea deal.”

“Twat and coward.” He snorts. “Sounds about right.”

“Well, technically I was the one who got down on one knee,” Savvie says. There’s something strange in her eyes, like always - she looks with too much intensity. She’s hiding it well here, acting with the best of them, but Finley’s been staring at her face for so long that they can see right through it even so. 

Finley saw Savvie Marcoset’s true talents on the stand, the first time. They had watched with surprised dismay as she charmed the jury, seeing how she could channel her intensity and terrifying focus into overwhelming charisma before an audience.

“Oh, that’s so modern,” The woman wearing the hidden camera gushes, cooing over the ring. “Did you write your own vows, too?”

Savvie laughs, abashed. “No, no. Traditional. I always wanted a traditional wedding. So did he, really, he's an old-fashioned kind of guy. You should have seen him blush during 'love, honor, and obey.'"

The noise Finley's client makes in reaction to that statement is indescribable.

“Traditional vows... makes sense. You’ve always been the romantic type. Where is that lucky duck today, anyway? The hubby? He isn't with you?”

Savvie's smile doesn't even flicker. “He’s at home with our babies. He loves being a stay-at-home dad, you know? It’s all he ever wanted to be.” 

In reality, at the moment this video was recorded, the escaped Jax Gallagher was in his father's apartment, likely pretending to sleep, but at least not sleeping next to her. His children would have been nearby, safe from Savvie's cruelty for the first time.

You’d never know anyone was gone. She's as good an actress as she is at playing music, when she wants to be. And she is clearly pretending that absolutely nothing is wrong. 

“Oh, well, bring him to my house sometime, yeah? Let me get a look at him and those little ones.”

“He’s… very private,” Savvie says, low and soft. She gives a little roll of her eyes. “Because of me being, you know, known, and he isn't from a famous family or anything… we like to keep his name out of things. His family is so toxic, plus you know how gossipy the press is about him…”

“Him? Him who?” The informant plays dumb. 

“You know… My ex..."

“Oh, your ex Bastian Brighthall?” 

“Ha! No, no. I just mean… you know. Since… prison. Which, like, can no one become rehabilitated in this country? Let me live! I’m a law-abiding citizen now, and, and a wife and mother! You have no idea what it's like just trying to raise babies these days..."

She’s so deeply offended. The informant pretends to be offended, too, and lets Savvie change the subject, turn it around to how hard it is to be a woman just trying to live out her happily ever after. It’s masterful, how well she can lead someone along and away from what she doesn’t want to share. 

Finley White’s eyelid twitches where they sit at a table, watching this conversation unfold on a television bolted to the wall on the opposite side of the room. Beside them, their client has lapsed back into stony silence, his jaw set, arms crossed. He doesn't look at Savannah Marcoset’s sweet and smiling face, not directly. 

He’s tense enough that Finley worries, more than a little, that one of his tendons will simply snap from the stress. He knows - he knew long before Finley said it out loud - what a farce this is, how utterly unnecessary. He knows better than anyone that Ms. Marcoset could have pleaded guilty and saved them all this expense and trouble. The evidence is thoroughly stacked against her. She has no way out, but it doesn’t stop her from throwing out every delay tactic she has. 

Jax had been the first one to vocalize the point of Savannah’s strange game, during their meeting with him and his father after the arrest. She’ll drag it out, make it take as long as possible, he’d predicted, sitting in his father's cozy living room in his apartment in England. Finley had flown to him, once again - they had sworn to him once, after the first trial’s conclusion, that they wouldn’t ask him to fly back to America unless they had to.  

He’d still been visibly recovering, a man made of shadows who sat with his little girl and her enormous curly hair clinging in wide-eyed silence to him. He’d held onto her just as tightly, as if even Finley might simply take her away if he let go for even a second. She’ll make it fucking miserable for everyone, just to get at me. She always fucking does. 

Language, Jax’s father had admonished in a distant and fond way. That's one for the chocolate jar. Or two, maybe. 

Jax’s child, who was so perfectly silent Finley kept forgetting she was there, had spoken for the first time. I don't mind, Daddy, she had said. She was so soft Finley barely made out the words. I know that’s grown up words. You don't have to do the jar. You can get chocolates. 

Both men had smiled, then - one with open affection for his grandchild, one with a faint shift of lips that vanished as soon as Finley took it in. 

Sorry, kiddo, Jax had murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. More for you, then, yeah? Finley had wondered, then, what it must feel like to love a child - to love someone that much - who only existed because of this kind of assault? 

Jax had been angrier, or at least more obviously so, the first time they worked with him. After the first escape. During the first trial. The anger that had still flared up then was now a smoking skeletal forest, where you could feel heat against your palm when you laid it against the trunk of a tree, but not even embers were left to glow. 

Are the little girl and the baby boy the first green things to grow afterward? Or just… bones, blackened stones weighing him down? 

Shit, they need a drink. All their poetry electives from their own college days come out in florid metaphors on days like this one. 

More than a drink, they need  about sixteen hours of sleep. Not that Jax doesn't need both things more than they do, going through all this again, and again… they’d put it off as long as they could, but finally they’d had to ask him to fly here one more time. 

This will be the last time. Finley White will stake their career on Savannah Marcoset never seeing daylight as a free woman again, or they’ll quit and take up needlepoint or whatever it is lawyers who drop the ball that badly do. 

They failed him, once, in their own mind. That it could happen to him again feels like their fault, their responsibility, somehow. 

Jax had been angrier, before, but less determined than he is now. He had found it much harder, then, not to look at Savvie Marcoset. As if he couldn't break himself of having all his thoughts centered on keeping her from punishing him. The way he had seemed frightened when they took her away, after the verdict, had been painful to watch. 

Now he simply doesn't look at her on the screen at all. 

Finley picks up the remote, scratching a fingernail over its smooth plastic surface.  

Would it have been better, if they had managed to make it so she never walked free? It would have meant no second time held prisoner and therefore no children. Obviously it would have been better. Would he have chosen it, though, if he knew… chosen not to ever meet the quiet little girl and boisterous baby boy… maybe he would. Probably he would. 

They would never ask. 

In the present, Finley keeps their thoughts to themself. They lean forward, briefly pausing the video. “There’s a few minutes of going back and forth on this, Ms. Marcoset describing a… well, a very fanciful personal idea of the alleged wedding and honeymoon… I’m going to fast forward past it.”

“Thank fuck,” Jax mutters, scratching at the back of his head. His fingers twitch, involuntary, and he drops his hand quickly. 

He didn't tremble like that the first time, either. That’s a lasting effect of the shock collar he’d been wearing when he turned up on his father's doorstep after running away with the kids. He hides the scars beneath scarves and Finley pretends they don't see them even when they do. 

Those scars feel like visible evidence: Finley White fucked up, and here’s living proof. They’d gotten the conviction, decent prison time, parole within a limited area after release… and it hadn't been enough. 

They’ve gone over and over the case, when they can't sleep or think about anything else. They had done a good job. They and a single paralegal, alone, had taken on the Marcoset team of defense lawyers and wiped the floor with them. 

Jax seemed to think they had done a good job. Good enough that when he ran this time, he’d called them as soon as he was ready, anyway. He could have gotten a different lawyer, but he had called them, and trusted them, to put her away again. 

They just have to make sure it sticks this time. For life, bar the door, throw away the goddamn key. 

It was another thing Jax said first, although not in so many words - that if she ever left prison again, Jax almost certainly wouldn't survive it. He’d been hunched over a beer, that first in-person meeting at his father's place. Finley was still jet-lagged from getting on the first flight out, and nearly asleep on the sofa. He hadn't brought it up until the kids and his father were safely asleep. 

If she gets out again, or… comes h-here… that's it. He hadn't looked up at them, just stared down at his beer. The kids vanish first, probably. Dead or disappeared. Whatever she thinks will fuck me up worse. Actually, probably disappeared and then dead later once she thinks-... once she’s made me sorry. Then me, after them.

Then you? Last?

Yeah. Disappeared. Or dead. Or both. But she’ll go after them first. She'll-... He drank half the beer in three long swallows, wiped a hand over his face, and then exhaled and looked over at them. She can't hurt my kids. Okay? She can't. 

Finley had nodded, and lifted their own beer in a kind of grim salute. She won't. We nail her to the wall this time, Jax. I promise.

Fuck yeah. His expression stayed flat, but he clinked his beer glass against theirs and that was that, he was Finley White's once and future client one more time. 

Even though the case is open and shut, they’re throwing everything they’ve got at this, leaving nothing on the table. Leaving nothing to chance or luck. They have a promise to keep. 

“Our informant wore this camera to get an idea of what Mrs. Marcoset was thinking, how she was playing your disappearance from her life. It was recorded before she was arrested,” Finley explains. On the screen, Savvie's rushed dramatics are silent, her hands moving in gestures that constantly flash the ring. Her smile is absolutely radiant. She has always been a beautiful woman, layered over the cruelty beneath. “We probably won't need this at court-”

“Then why are we watching it?” He asks abruptly. Not angry or hostile, just wanting to get it all over with. 

They know the feeling. 

“Because I thought you might want to see this part,” They say, and hit play, the video shifting back into regular speed, the casual buzz and clink of the restaurant around them kicking back in. 

“-three years old,” Savvie is saying. She is every inch the proud and loving mother, pulling out her phone and then turning it around to show the informant. “Born in… in May, named after my grandmother. Isn't she beautiful? Doesn't she look just like me?”

“This was after I left?” Jax frowns at the photo Savvie has pulled up - of Jax holding his daughter back when she was a baby who already had too much hair and eyes too big for her face. Jax, his gaunt frame dressed in slightly oversized designer clothes to hide bruises and his unreliable access to food, is looking at the camera with a false and slightly hazy-seeming smile. 

“Yes,” Finley answers, nodding. “This conversation would be maybe… six months after that.” 

Jax’s eyes narrow. “That photo’s of Izzy as a baby, for one thing. For another… her birthday isn't in fucking May. Jesus. I didn't know the day, she never would tell me, but I knew what season. Also, Iz was four when we got back home, and she would have turned five by… whenever this is. We got her a fucking cake, my dad and I, when she turned five."

“You are absolutely certain that-”

“Yes,” He answers them, voice flat and cold as paper on stone.

“You may have to testify about that, Jax. Good evidence of a lack of connection to Isabeh-”

“Izzy,” He corrects automatically. 

“Right. Sorry. I’ve been elbow-deep in legal docs all day, everything is full legal names. This video might not be worth much during the criminal trial, but for the civil case regarding the children’s living arrangements-”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll testify. Yeah.” He snorts. “Also, I'm fucking drugged in that photo she flashed around. If that matters.”

“You are?” That's a surprise to them. They turn to rewind the video back to when the photo is held up, pausing it, scanning it over again. The slight smile, the way he gripped tight to the girl… almost white-knuckled… 

“Yeah. High as hell and terrified I'll drop her. Scared that that's her game this time. Get me to let Iz slip through my arms and then get goddamn mad at me for not being careful enough. I got her to stop putting shit in my drink when the kids were awake eventually, but she was still doing it, then.”

He isn't casual with how he drops these pieces of abject horror into conversation - no, Jax wields this information like a riddle, or a test. How you respond is to pass or to fail, and Finley knows him well enough by now to be aware that very few people come back from failure. 

So they nod, and wait to see if he plans to offer anything more. 

He looks over at them, then back at the photo frozen in time on the screen. “Had to tell her I liked that shit, just… you know. After the kids went down to sleep.” He meets Finley’s gaze head on, staring them down. 

But he knows them well enough that he knows he never has to spell any of it out, not anymore. 

So they nod again. “And it worked?” 

“Yeah. Mostly.” He looks away. Finley never knows for sure if they’ve passed the test, not until he keeps talking. “I could put her off with asking for it to happen later. Savvie forgets shit. Half the time by the time she went to sleep, she didn't remember she even brought it up.” 

Half the time. 

Finley looks back at the video, and hits the play button. Savvie is back to happily chattering about her perfect husband and perfect children, sitting in a café months after the bruised, battered, scarred man and children in question had escaped her grasping fingers and shock collars and cruelty, but before there was enough to bring her in. 

She had to have known they were coming for her, by this point. And yet she pretended everything was completely fine, that nothing had happened. She was either so sure her family would throw enough weight around to fix it for her in the end, or… 

“She’s completely out of her mind,” Finley whispers. Not that they hadn't said it before. But this… this is different. “She just. Can't deal with it, and so she just doesn't even acknowledge the problem exists. Jax-”

“Yeah, I know how she is. Lucky you, you didn't get that shit up close and personal like I did. This isn't even the worst of her bullshit.”

“Looking at her, you’d never know it.” Finley sits back, not allowing themself to slump. If they can pull this off, there's a four hundred dollar bottle of stupidly priced bourbon they’re going to buy to celebrate. “Look at her. No sign whatsoever of anything but happily ever after. You ran. It’s been months since she last saw you or your children… and she’s calm as can be. She doesn't even know where you are."

“She probably knew where I was.” Jax shrugs, outwardly unbothered. “I mean, she’s a stupid shitsnob, but she knows I'd go to my dad. She knew where I was gonna go if I got away from her.”

“She didn't go for you, though, didn't try to recapture you. At the time, if she knew…”

Jax gives them the stare again. “I know exactly what she did. She freaked out when we were gone, called her bastard shitstain uncle for help. He had people hunting me, until we got to the border. We barely managed to keep out of sight of them. We had to cross the border… we had to.” 

“Right, because in the UK… you’re, uh-” They hesitate. 

Jax prickles when they hesitate. His eyes narrow, and Finley straightens their posture, refusing to wilt before that stare. “You can say it,” He says, voice flat. “Fucking famous for being kidnapped, right? There were programmes about that shit. Fucking journalists. And I bet once we made it over the border, dear Uncle Isaac told her he wasn't going to risk it anymore, to pack her shit and go home, act normal. Be seen so she could act like she never left. See if they could wait me out.” 

Sometimes they forget how watchful Jax is, how well he understands not just Savannah Marcoset herself but the parade of Marcoset family members who treated him like Savvie's toy or worse. He didn't understand it all that well the first time.

Another thing he only has to know because they couldn't keep him safe.

“Right. But that's practical... from a criminal perspective. That's not… this.” They look over at the screen again, frozen once more on Savvie's cheerful, winning smile. 

“No.” Jax’s knee is bouncing again. There has always been a hum of energy in him, but even that is held more inside him now. Because they hadn't hammered their case hard enough. 

It just hadn't been enough. 

It has to be enough this time. 

“Jax… we have to show them that Savannah Marcoset. Not the one in this video, but the one who incapacitated you to make it easier for her to harm or control you. She is going to want them to see the act, try to get parole on the table, try to get at least limited access to the children-”

“Which she won't fucking get.” For just a second, the layer of self-protective hostility drops. It’s not panic, not visibly, but it’s close. “I told you, first thing I fucking said, she can't get at my kids. The whole reason I'm fucking doing this is to keep them safe. She can't get her hands on my fucking kids.” 

“No,” They say, voice firm, and meet his eyes. He scoots slightly back, arms crossed again, staring at them fixedly with his chin tipped slightly down. They watch him right back. “She won't. We talked about it, I remember. No access, full stop. No presents, no letters, she gets no photos and no updates. Absolutely nothing. Complete termination of parental rights. Complete. No exceptions."

“And prison for-fucking-life, and no parole.”

“No chance. It’s going to be rough, Jax, I won't lie to you. She’s going to put on a show, and we are going to need to systematically dismantle it. Take away all her charm and let them see who you saw, day in and day out.”

He nods, jaw set. Stubborn and determined, and maybe the fire still burns down in there somewhere. His smile is so genuine they nearly wonder if it's real. “Good. Yeah. Uh, how, though?” 

They look back over at Savvie, the face filling the screen. Savvie will be magnetic, just like the first time. Not so young, now, not able to play the innocent girl led astray. But she'll play all the greatest hits of sincerity, earnestness, contrition… Jax, by contrast, is all rough edges and bristling quiet. He won't charm anyone so readily. But his story will be what actually happened. 

They just need to prove it. 

“I had a couple more recordings for us to look at today,” They say, thinking, mind spinning. “But they aren’t urgent. Let’s break early, you head back to see what your little ones are up to, and I'll start drafting an outline of what we prove and how we prove it. I have some ideas. We’ll reconvene here tomorrow at 8 am.”

“Sounds good, yeah.” Jax shifts, restless, ready to get out of the room with Savvie’s face still on the wall. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to talk about some… difficult stuff, Jax. Make sure you take it easy tonight.”

He looks at them, then just turns away, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Right. Yeah. Stuff about the kids, or the rape?”

It’s a test again. 

God, how Finley hopes they never fail this man, not this time. Not when they couldn't keep him as safe as he deserved to be. 

“Just the outline,” They say, casual as can be. “But.. both. All of it. No details yet. But later-”

“Yeah. I’ll be back at 8. Ish.” He leaves before they can say another word, and they sit back, staring after him. 

They have mountains of documents to finish sorting through, and a man carrying so much cruelty in his head that if he opens his mouth on the stand, a waterfall might come rushing out. He's covered in scars from Savvie's abuse, has two kids that are living evidence of assault. They have a traumatized little girl in therapy multiple times a week. They have Jax’s devotion to his son and daughter compared to Savvie not even knowing what time of year Izzy was born in. 

They have so much. 

It has to be enough. 

#whump #amow #amow 12 days of whumpmas #12 days of whumpmas #traumatized whumpee #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery whump #escaped whumpee #intimate whumper #referenced abuse #past captivity #child of whumpee #whump ocs #comfy-whumpee's oc #comfy-whumpee #the motherfucking gallaghers #jax #dad jax #past noncon #past drugging

[corrodedcoughin]

Just a little thing bc I'm craving fluff

Once he and Eddie have been dating for a little while, slowly settling into something comfortable Steve gets really touchy. That sweet, romantic, intimacy. That sweet boyfriend shit. They're lowering their walls and getting more vulnerable with each other. Slowly but surely, and this is the start.

Little, simple things like gently resting their hands together when they drive. Steve in the Beemer, Eddie in the passenger seat. The pair twining and untwining their fingers together as Steve drives. Steve dropping Eddie's hand to change gears and then picking up Eddie's hand again. Bringing their entwined hands up to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on the back of Eddie's hand just to watch Eddie beam.

In the early morning they'll have coffee together at the trailers small dining table. Sun streaming through the windows, dust dancing in in streams of light. Still in their boxers and sleep shirts, Steve in bare feet and Eddie with odd socks. And Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's thigh, warm and heavy and comforting. It's nice. Having a physical reminder that the other is there, and alive, and warm, and safe. Eddie feels his heart clench when Steve gets comfortable enough that he doesn't move his hand when Wayne gets home from the night shift.

They're standing in the Backlot behind Family Video, sharing a cigarette on Steve's break. Leaning against the wall, Steve still in his work vest, slowly smoking. Eddie's dressed in his usual ripped jeans and a worn Metallica shirt, doing nothing with his day except vising Steve. So he grabs his cigarettes and loiters with Steve. Eddie lights one up, takes a puff and then holds it out for Steve to take. And instead of grabbing it with his fingers, Steve simply leans forward and puts his mouth around it, cigarette still in Eddie's hands. His lips gently kissing Eddie's fingers as he takes his own puff.

Steve and Eddie have gone round to Robin's for a sleepover on one night when her parents aren't home. They're all standing in the kitchen together while she makes them all Kraft Mac n cheese. Eddie and Steve standing together leaning against the bench, and Steve has one hand resting in Eddie's back pocket. And it's nice, being touched and touching like that with no expectations.

They're having a movie night in the Harrington house, just the two of them lounging on the plush couch. They're not cuddled up together, not yet, and Steve has his arm thrown over the back of the couch. He'd look the picture of the classic macho jock if Steve wasn't wearing a soft cozy looking sweater with his hand gently resting at the back of Eddie's neck. Fingers gently running through his curls and thumbs running circles on his skin.

I just aaa!!!!! I want soft boyfriends with soft gentle touches because they both deserve love and soft things and romance and aaaaaaaaaa

‘Aaaaa’ is RIGHT!!!

I want ALL of this for them!!! Idk the image of them sitting close but not ontop each other and not bothering to move when Wayne comes home absolutely breaks me. Wayne walking past them to get to the kitchen, ruffling Eddie’s hair and squeezing Steve’s shoulder. Letting them both know that he’s happy they are here without having to say anything. Leaving all three of them smiling to themselves at the thought of the family they made for themselves.

Eddie and Steve over at robins, Robin sitting on the kitchen counter as she waits for water to boil and food to cook. Talking to Steve who is absently playing with Eddie’s leg hair on his calves as his feet are propped on Steve’s lap, they are sitting at the kitchen table and eddie is painting his nails over the newspaper Robin spread out to avoid mess.

It’s comfy but electrifying knowing that they love each other so much and in such an easy way. Yes there was in and fear at the start but everything has been aired out in the open now. They know exactly how gone for each other they are. Sure they still have stupid arguments but even when neither of them are willing to back down the love is still there.

They share that last cigarette outside family video, Eddie still feeling the press of Steve’s lips on his fingers. Kisses his own fingers tips and taps them to Steve’s cheek before Steve head back inside with a bashful smile. Eddie flicks the filter away and grinds it under his heal. Stretches up high and thinks about how he’s going to need to buy a new pack for his next visit.

#momo im so sorry this took so long I’ve been USELESS #but I held this message close and it made me very happy #I’ve been craving fluff and comfort for the past few days and this kept me going #I love how you write them and wish to encapsulate your skill one day #I love the images you create #this particular message is full of them and if I was an artist I’d be on it #sadly not but regardless you made me very happy #and I KNOW other people will love this too #momotonescreaming #momo #ask #stranger things #steddie

[chemtrailsovertheccs]

carl grimes short imagines + headcanons

fall themed!🍂

——————————————————————————

• Not so long ago, Carl used to have many sleeping issues, such as not being able to sleep more than 3 hours per night, due to the uncontrollable need to be awake just in case anyone needed his help. That changed effortlessly thanks to your help and how safe you made him feel. He used to sleep in normal day clothes because who knows when he would’ve needed to wake up fast and run. Now, he loves to sleep in his underwear and grandpa sweaters. Those big brown and orange comfy sweaters.

“they’re SO itchy how the fuck do you keep these on?”

“what do you mean??? they’re so comfy and warm?”

• You two are often outside the walls with others, looking for firewood because the chilly weather requires a place to stay warm in. You both take your time and enjoy the view; the beautiful fall forest with its falling leaves and its chilly breeze. You two wander around and your holding into his arm laughing about how you’ve been outside for a few hours and you still haven’t picked up a single piece of wood.

“look at those squirrels, they’re literally us”

“they’re in love and they have 2 baby squirrels at home they need to feed”

“do you think judith would eat these acorns?”

• You have always had a special liking for candles. Big ones, scented ones, unscented ones, tall ones, small ones, tea candles. Any kind honestly, in the apocalypse I wouldn’t go asking for specific scents or sizes, anything is okay. Carl knew this, he knows you like the palm of his hand. Once he found a box at the back of a closet in a house he entered when on a run, it was filled with candles. He grabbed all of them and put them in his backpack.

“I have something for you, my loveee”

“you planned on making me cry today didn’t you”

• Pumpkins take about 4 months to fully grow, and you somehow knew that. In what you were told was early summer, you had told Carl that you would love to grow pumpkins for fall and how this was the perfect time to start so you could enjoy them when the spooky season arrived. For carving & helping Carol to make pumpkin cookies out of them!

“I have this tiny bag of pumpkin seeds do you think they’ll grow?”

“we will find out”

——————————————————————————

headcanons! very real (not fall themed)

- Very obvious his love language is physical touch oh great heavens. Hand/arm holding, hugging, cuddling, legs touching under the table, anything fr. AND he doesn’t care if anyone notices, that’s even better! He loves to let everyone know you’re very much in love and very much marrying eachother.

- As I said, PDA (public display of affection) doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He kisses you, hugs you, holds you around people, but there is an exception, and that would be when his dad is around, (because even though everyone likes to harmlessly joke about the youngest couple that looks like they’ve been married for 50+ years and still love eachother like the first day) Rick is his father so everything is 200% more embarrassing.

- We all know Michonne is his best friend, and he loves to talk to her about you. And she loves listening! Doesn’t matter if it is about explaining to her why he loves you so much or how pretty he thinks you are or if you two had an argument and he needs Michonne’s help because he’s very sad that you two argued.

- Going back to the holding hands thing. CAN YOU TELL I LOVE HOLDING HANDS anyway his hands aren’t soft! his hands are rough and calloused and harsh BECAUSE WE’RE IN THE APOCALYPSE and that’s okay!!! you love his hands and it doesn’t matter that they’re not perfect.

- He knows how to braid hair!! Trust me he’s the best at braiding hair now that you taught him how, he braids your hair all the time and Judith’s too, even though hers is shorter.

- He loves to talk to you about anything really, but he absolutely adores to talk to you about his comics and ask you to read his favorites so you can discuss about what your favorite characters are.

- He used to go outside the walls all the time, like after any inconvenience (not necessarily involving you) he would climb up those walls and disappear for a while which you HIGHLY disliked because what the fuck Carl I love you don’t go get killed?? anyway he stopped doing it by himself and started going with you but then realized, hey what a waste of energy we should use the goddamn gate! so now you two went on runs whenever Alexandria ran low on something. Cool because people actually knew that you were outside so they would come looking for you if y’all didn’t show up.

——————————————————————————

hope you enjoyed 🤎 feel free to send requests

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes headcanons #carl grimes #carl grimes twd #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes oneshot #the walking dead

[i-luv-carl-grimes]

✮Everything I hate about you ✮

I rested my hands on my hip, my breath heavy sweat ran down my forehead

I was completely done unpacking I lied down on my bed and took a deep breath, I picked up my phone October 22 just five more days till I become an official part of one thing I've loved my whole life, I smiled to my and opened my phone

My smile quickly faded when I seen all then unanswered text to F/n

Y/n

'Hey!'

'Hru'

'How have you been?'

Send Oct 19

Days ago...

Had I done something? Maybe hurt her? Why is she ignoring me? I sat my phone on my chest, my breathing grew heavier and quicker, my vision begain to fad

"No, not again" I said and sat up

'Buy one get three free!'

A coupon for a book shop I picked up a not to long ago while getting groceries. I got up and looked at it be for making a decision. I grabbed it and the money I had $14, ill make it work. I was about to open my door when I seen what I was wearing, my pajamas

I sat my things down and walked over to my closest, I sat there looking for God knows, when I grabbed a brown and tan thinly stripped sweater a black skirt, black tights and black and white convers as well as a off white scaf and my black lether coat, then some light makeup, grabbed my stuff and headed down stairs to see Gina in the kitchen. I felt my body tense up, I needed to ask my mom if I could borrow the car

"Oh Hi Y/n" My mom said and Gina looked at me and Smiled I shyly walked over to her and pointed to my ear making my mom roll her eyes and bend down, "can I borrow the car, I wanna go to a book store" I asked. "Of course, just be home by 6 alright?" she asked and I nodded. "You've got yourself a really beautiful Daughter m/n (mom name)" Gina said and once again I froze. "Yes, but she's always been my silent princess" my mom said and I felt my face heat up from embarrassment. I slowly made my way out of the awkward situation and grabbed my mom's keys before heading out.

Time skip!!

Chandler's pov:

One of my friends birthdays was coming up so I decided to get them a gift, they said that they heard about this one book series they really wanted to get into, apparently it was an apocalypse type book, I had just gotten payed so might as well right?

I walked into the book store, it was a week day so not many people where there, it seemed that only my school took the day off, I was walking around trying to find the book when I stumbled upon a very fanilier girl holding one of the books I was here for. A faint and small smile painted her Rosie pick lips, freakels spotted her skin almost perfectly as if her skin was pur porcelain, she tucked her h/l (hair length) h/c (hair color) behind her ear revealing her soft shy e/c (eye color) eyes, it was almost as if everything about her was soft and gentil, from the way She spoke to the way she moved. She looked up from her book thats when I realized I had been 'looking' for to long, I quickly walked away and to any other bookshelf. One where she couldn't see me. How long was I looking at her for? Why was I looking so long? I dislike her, a lot so why?

Whatever

I waited for her to check out and leave when a women working walked up to me with a black leather jacket. "Excuse me sir, but do you know that girl who just came in? I seen you looking at her for a while and she left her jacket, do you think you could get it back to her," the women asked say no say no say no sa- "sure" I said fuck. "Great thanks" she said then handed me the jacket

Wonderful

I checked out went to my car and drove to y/n house, I really should have said no

Y/n's pov:

I got home and went straight to my room, one of my new books I had gotten was absurdly amazing and I just had to finish it, I changed into some comfy clothes (t-shirts but a wide neck line and black biker shorts) then grabbed the book and jumped on my bed as well as grabbed my phone and headphones to listen to music. After a while my cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much and my legs grew tired from kicking them. I never really liked romance all that much but god did I have a soft spot for books that take place in any kind of apocalypse. The more I read the more my heart rate rose the suspense of waiting for these characters to kiss finally came to an end, the smile on my face grew 10x as big as it was and my legs kicked harder while getting out high picked giggles and sequels

But that all was short living when I opened my eyes and seen a boy standing in my door frame with a disgusted look on his face. I felt my face heat up I'm embarrassment when I realized I was wearing shorts, not only did he see me being all weird but he also seen my stretch marks (if u don't have stretch marks ignore that part) "I brought your jacket back" he said and threw it at me, "i-im sorry" I said quietly. "Geez your embarrassing" he spat then walked out

God dammit

#carl grimes #carl the walking dead #the walking dead #twd carl #carl x reader #twd x reader #chandler riggs #chandler riggs x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[heytherejulietx]

movie night - stanley uris

↳ a/n - just a little drabble i typed out because i was bored and couldn’t stop thinking of fluffy fluffy stanley <3

↳ content warnings - swearing, aged up losers. that’s it this fic is just pure fluff lmao

↳ 1.2k word count

masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @whaddyam3an @justanotherkpopstanlol join my tag list

movie nights at bill’s house always went the same; richie would commentate through the whole movie, and would switch seats multiple times because he couldn’t sit still. bev would throw popcorn at richie when he wouldn’t shut up. eddie would insist to sit as far from richie as possible to avoid the popcorn war, which usually ended up with him sat beside bill or mike. and y/n would have to endure more or less than two hours sat beside stanley. it wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sitting beside him - she loved being near him, but that was the problem. sat beside the boy you’re crushing on and having to resist looking at them was basically torture.

stan and y/n had always been close - they were best friends way before the losers club was even a thing, so between them they had years of friendship before the group. whatever they did, y/n and stan would always end up doing it together. at the fair? they’d go on the rides together. at the cinema? they’d sit next to each other. so at bills for movie night they shared the love seat for the movie.

richie’s night to pick was always the worst, because it guaranteed him to talk even more than usual since it was a movie he enjoyed. y/n couldn’t be mad that he spoke through the movie, she knew her friend well enough to know that he simply couldn’t help it. it just made it even harder to focus on the movie.

though it seemed almost impossible to focus on the movie anyways, because all y/n wanted to do was sleep. she had been staying up later than usual all week to study for a test, so the fact that she’d had five hours of sleep in two days accompanied with sitting on a very comfy sofa pressed against her crush best friend just guaranteed that she’d be fighting sleep the whole movie.

“gremlins!” richie stood in front of the tv set as he loudly announced his movie choice for the night, waving the vhs case in front of all the losers as he grinned.

“isn’t that a christmas movie?” eddie piped up, and richie rolled his eyes.

“yeah, tiny little monsters running around and terrorising everybody. how festive.”

“it’s set at christmas you fuckin’ moron.”

as richie and eddie started bickering y/n rolled her eyes and tucked her legs underneath her thighs to get more comfortable, her back pressed against the sofa cushions. the movie hadn’t even started and she could have fallen asleep. she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms and sighed, thankful that it was probably only two hours until she could be in bed asleep. provided richie and eddie didn’t argue for much longer.

“now’s the time i get to say ‘i told you so’, right?” stan’s voice made her look up as the loveseat dipped beside her and she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“be my guest, asshole.” she mumbled with a playful punch to his arm and he chuckled.

stanley leaned back into the sofa with his legs stretched out in front of him, and slung his arm around the back of the sofa right behind her. it was something he always had done so she never questioned it. he had a bowl of popcorn sat in his lap that bev was already reaching up to steal from her seat on the floor. y/n reached for a few pieces of popcorn herself as she leaned her head back against the sofa, turning her attention to the tv as richie had stopped bickering with eddie to load up the vhs tape.

the movie started playing and all that y/n could focus on was not falling asleep. for once she barely noticed richie’s commentary of the movie which progressed into bickering with eddie, she barely even noticed anything other than the way her eyelids had grown too heavy and the couch was so comfortable that she could drift off right there. her head was nodding as her eyes dropped shut, and in her half-coherent state she realised her head had fallen against something comfortable. sleepily she smiled slightly and leaned further into the soft material, and relaxed completely against what she was leaning against as she started drifting off to sleep.

she accidentally slept through the entire movie. when her eyelids fluttered open again the credits were rolling (she couldn’t make out the words because everything was a little blurry, but she could see the white lines scrolling against a black background and took an educated guess). she could hear richie arguing with eddie not surprisingly about one thing or another behind the sofa. glancing up she saw bev still sat on the floor, though ben sat beside her that time. bill was sat on the other sofa with mike at his side. where was stan?

y/n realised exactly where he was when she felt an arm tighten ever so subtly around her waist, and her eyes widened as her cheeks flushed pink when she figured out that she had been sleeping against stanley’s shoulder. she glanced down at herself and noticed that a blanket had been draped over her body, too, and couldn’t help but smile softly to herself. stan was comfortable. his sweater made his shoulder soft to lean against, and when she inhaled she could smell his comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla. she almost wanted to pretend like she hadn’t woken up to spend more time with stan like that. though y/n knew that she would have to be home soon, and she really had to get some proper sleep in her bed. so reluctantly y/n sat up from his shoulder with a yawn and stretched out a little. laying in such a weird poison left her neck feeling funny, and she winced as she tried to stretch it out.

“hey,” stan was smiling softly when she glanced up at him, a look that she couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind other than knowing that he was happy. “you fell asleep and i didn’t want to wake you. i know you haven’t really been sleeping well, and you looked so peaceful…” he trailed off with a sheepish smile, and y/n gave him a somewhat bashful one in return.

“thank you, i’m sorry for falling asleep on you.” she shook her head a little embarrassed, secretly still joyed over the soft moment.

before stan could respond richie had come back in front of the sofa and started complaining that y/n had missed the movie, though she wasn’t really listening. a small smile was still painted over her lips at the thought of how warm stan was and how nice it felt to be pressed against him.

the next time they had a movie night, stanley and y/n took the loveseat again. they watched labyrinth per bev’s request. y/n leaned against stan again with his arm around her waist, though that time she was fully awake.

#amber’s writing #stanley uris #stan uris #stanley uris x you #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris fluff #stanley uris imagine #stan uris x reader #stan uris imagine #it fic #it fanfiction #it chapter one #it chapter 1 #it chapter two #it chapter 2 #the losers club x reader #the losers club #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #bev marsh #beverly marsh

[parchmentedpetrichor]

➳headcanon: wearing fred's jumper

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

the first time you wear his jumper, it's by accident. pansy parkinson, the resident matchmaker and casual prankster, has jinxed all of the students' clothes to swap with those of others as part of a prank war with, well, everyone, and the best thing? you can't swap back until pansy says so or there will be consequences

because with pansy parkinson, there are always consequences

so you wake up one morning, excited to go to hogsmeade finally, and you find a complete stranger's clothes in your own wardrobe

you huff and try to summon your own clothing, because all the wardrobe has is red, yellow and shades of grey

not only that, it's at least 5 sizes bigger

the accio! charm is blocked. damn pansy for her brilliant wandwork, you think

you look over to your dormmates. well they're lucky, one has got her boyfriend's clothes, one has got cho chang's wardrobe, and the other is fully embracing the emerald culture of the slytherin house

so you carefully fish out a comfy looking hoodie that might be able to be worn, ignoring the fact that it smells very very nice

you decide not to go in the underwear cabinet, because privacy

and you borrow a pair of leggings from your friend, because you wouldn't be able to wear the trackpants and slacks without tripping over every step

and you end up going unknowingly to breakfast in fred weasley's jumper

his favourite one too

and for the first time, why is it only the first time? he notices you

and he thinks it's definitely his favourite jumper now that he sees it hanging adorably off of you, the sleeves even rolled fall to past your fingertips and the end of the jumper reaches to past your thighs

and he's wearing george's clothes, because pansy just had to

so whilst you're in his jumper giggling and being impressed with your friends over boys who are wearing shirts sizes too small, he approaches you

"sup, darling," he says confidently

your friends erupt in giggles but you look at him confusedly

"who are you? sorry, i don't mean to be rude."

and he's just disappointed because surely everyone has heard of fred and george weasley?

and a neat, flirty conversation starts

you find yourself slowly being charmed by his jokes and raw laughter

and at the end, you're surprised when he tells you that you've got his jumper on

but he does seem like a heavy gryffindor patriot

and you find it kind of cute?

well, there's no going back from here, you think, come on, i can't crush on someone i've just met??!!!

but you can, and you do

and he invites you to go to the three broomsticks with him

you look to your friends and they just giggle and nod like the idiotic darlings they are

and you end up having a splendid time with him and become very good friends

the second time you wear his jumper, it's his quidditch one

he just randomly dumps it into your lap and you're super confused because yeah, you might like him but you're not dating or anything?

"hey fred?"

"mm?"

"why did you give me this?"

"to wear it?" he deadpans.

"isn't it a couples thing to do?"

"so now you don't wanna be a couple?"

and although you're cheering for your house and you don't find quidditch too interesting, you go for the sake of him

he finds it so hard to concentrate when he knows you're watching him, in his jersey

you occasionally look up from your conversation with hermione to watch for the snitch

but you can't take your eyes off of fred, he's casually flying about, and he looks absolutely handsome as he beats away the bludgers, grinning and winking at you

you nearly faint just like the tons of other girls who the wink might be directed at

the third time you wear his jumper, it's the morning after you stay over at his place (fredlives!au)

and you're in the sweater molly knitted for him and he almost dies inside because the sight before him is just so sweet and endearing and reminds him of the first time he ever saw you

you look up at him from the book you're reading and raise your eyebrows, because he's smiling and it's a quiet smile

"what?"

"i'm so lucky."

"to?"

"for."

"for?"

"you."

you laugh and fred swears it's the best thing he's ever heard and you're the best thing he's ever had

when he tells you that, you just frown

"is that supposed to be good?"

he's astounded because here is a goddess who doesn't even know her effect on people

it's now he realises he wants to tell you how beautiful you are every day and night and he wants to marry you

he doesn't think you even need him, the way you're pondering over a book and sipping a cup of coffee, you're so fiercely independent

but he needs you, he decides

"do you wanna read this or no? 'cause you're burning holes in my head, my love," you say

he doesn't reply, instead just hugging you as tight as he can

"you're not going anywhere," he says stubbornly

"i wasn't planning to," you reply ever so casually, flipping the page of your book

"good."

the fourth time you wear his jumper, it's a big coat that he's draped over your shoulders because it's cold and dark

you're walking through hogsmeade and you're so tired, so you lean on him, feeling your head slump onto his chest

and you just about fall asleep and nearly fall over before he catches you

"just a few more metres," he keeps saying gently, his arm around your waist

"but i'm comfy," you whine

"but you can't fall asleep here, love."

"try me."

and anyone who's walking on the street can clearly see that he's utterly whipped for you by the way he looks at you with such bright and sparkling eyes

even under the moonlight, you're beautiful and you're still in his coat after all these years

"i love you."

"i love you too," you reply drowsily.

"i love you, i love you, i love you..." he repeats.

when you're home, he'll gently take off your clothes (with your consent, of course) and run you a hot bath

he'll dress you in soft pyjamas and cuddle you even though you're already half asleep and kiss your forehead just before you doze off

and he's so good to you and you're so good to him

he's just always smiling happily around you because you are his sunshine and his world

the fifth time you wear his jumper, it's a red puffer jacket

yes, he's still a gryffindor patriot after all these years

and you are walking through the snow with him to wherever he's taking you

it's a pretty little reserve and you gasp at the flowers that are frostily blooming

"it's so wonderful, freddie!"

there's no reply. you look over to him and he's on one knee

"y/n l/n, i-i don't know what i would do without you. you're my everything," he pauses. he adds smoothly, "marry me?"

and you nod and he beams brighter than ever before and kisses you deeply, sneakily putting a silver ring with a ruby on it onto your fourth finger

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade #battle of hogwarts #fredlives!au #headcanon #hc #marrying #sweaters #fluff

[echo-of-sounds]

daddy dom

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog are. 

I was going to include all six guys in this but it got so much longer than I initially planned. Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum are coming tomorrow!

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, and rough sex

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta had an inkling he was interested in dominance when he started having sex. The Daddy Dom surfaced after a one-night stand happened to moan ‘Daddy.’ He enjoyed it, looked into the subject deeper, and realized that’s exactly what he wanted, needed. However, he hasn’t had a relationship where he’s felt comfortable enough or been in one long enough to practice it. 

As your relationship develops, it is something he brings up because he isn’t shy about it. He wants to be your Daddy. He wants to be his girl’s protector and her anchor. He praises you when you’re doing well. He says how proud he is. He loves and cuddles you on your bad days. When you’re crying and scared, he’s right beside you, huddling you to his chest, protecting you from whatever you fear. 

Pet names are a rarity. On the odd occasion a good girl slips out, it’s a telltale sign he’s in a highly dominant mood. You’re expected to listen, do what you’re told, and say, ‘please and thank you.’ To make you feel fluttery and happy, he’ll call himself Daddy as he’s helping you.

Kitten is even more limited. He uses it when you dress up in the pink lingerie he bought you. It has a little collar with a bell, a cat-eared headband, garter bands, and cute, frilly panties and bra. There’s also a cat tail butt plug you can play with. But there’s a catch- there’s depreciation. If you use it too much, he isn’t as excited and it’s clear to see. You need to keep the lingerie away until you’re in dire need of your Daddy and a good fucking.

He takes pride and joy in seeing your smile at a new, fancy bracelet or an adorable teddy bear. But he’s uncertain when buying. He knows what you like, yet he just can’t decide on which dress you’d prefer. Despite his self-doubts, his presents are usually excellent, especially any soft, thigh-high stockings or cute, striped panties he brings home.

Though you won’t ever be able to tell, sometimes it is hard for Shouta to discipline you. He enjoys your bratty moods and how you ignore his commands to sit still. Your whimpers and whines and facial expression are incredibly cute. But at the end of the day, he is your Daddy and it’s his responsibility to keep you on track and provide stability. His go-to punishment is no orgasming… for a long time. You can’t touch yourself or grind on a pillow. If you beg, it’ll only extend the punishment. Occasionally, spanking is also used, particularly when you’re riding him and not listening.

Highly dominant doesn’t always mean rough. Yes, he is that most of the time. But he has periodic moods where he won’t use discipline. It’s when he’s in a coddling mood. Daddy becomes gentle, erotic, intent, and intimate. Don’t hold back your moans. Please, whine and whimper and fuss and mewl. Your soft cries and little wriggles please him so. 

When he is rough, you’ll be leaving red streaks down his back. He loves seeing them in the mirror the next morning, so he strives to get you that aroused and pleasured every time. And nothing is truly off the books for him. Whatever you wish, he’ll command: slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling, and spitting.

Shouta is more of a nonverbal Daddy. Both of you know he’s dominant and it’s your job to behave, so he doesn’t feel the need to command you as much as others may. He just yanks your body around as he pleases, slaps and chokes you when you don’t listen or get off-topic, and spits on your tongue to get you to quiet down. Now that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. At your misdoings, his steeled voice is gruff and guttural, commanding, punishing, and asking what you did wrong. 

Daddy gets even more domineering when you cum without permission. That’s the one rule you should never break. If he’s feeling charitable (which is rarer than a blue moon), he’ll let you cum. Other times, he’s deepthroating you, cumming down your throat, and making you swallow it. And that’s all you’ll get. Again, don’t beg. That’ll worsen the punishment. All you can do is be a good girl and hope he lets you cum in the next few days.

Gang Orca

Kugo never considered himself a Daddy or any sort of dominant man in general. The few times he’s had sex, he was more on the submissive side, letting his partner lead and ride him as they wished. His fear of hurting his partner really held him back. However, the instant he hears you softly, weakly whine Daddy, gently pawing his chest, pining for him to make you feel good, the switch is flicked and there’s no going back.

Before he fully engages in the Daddy Dom relationship, he does a lot of reading and asks you question after question. If he ever hurt you or pushed past your limits, he’d all but die inside. You need to ease into it. Let him become accustomed to the power dynamics, the dirty talking, what’s expected from him, and the lifestyle.

In the beginning, he’s as sweet as can be. You’re his little one whom he loves to spoil. He buys you dainty panties, comfy sweaters, and dresses for every occasion. You should always model clothing for Daddy. He’ll appreciate your appreciation. As you turn around in a cute, lace nightgown, his fingers flow up your thighs, caressing between them, gently brushing along your new panties, making sure everything fits perfectly. 

He gradually leans into the discipline aspect as the relationship grows. Once comfortable with himself and you, the punishments come frequently. They depend on the severity of your bad behavior. If you don't listen, you don’t get sweets. If you didn’t listen twice, you have extra chores to do. If you didn’t listen three times, no sexual gratification of any kind for however long Daddy deems necessary. 

In spite of that, he is a weak Daddy when it comes to his little one. Your puppy-dog eyes burrow into his heart. Your wiggling thighs get him heated. Your little mewls for your Daddy’s attention haunt him. But he doesn’t give in all the time. He still has structure, stability, and dominance to uphold.

Kugo is truly a safe Daddy. He’s your secret place where your every thought, desire, emotion, and fear will always be heard, understood, and respected. Whatever you tell Daddy when you’re curled up on his chest, snuggled in his arms, stays with Daddy. He guides you through the crowded mall, nurses the cuts on your legs, acts as an anchor through depression and anxiety, and protects you from the rumbling thunder. And by God, is he protective. 

Protectiveness is his main characteristic. He wants you to wear his T-shirt and sweatshirts. When he cums, he seats himself fully insides, letting him empty out completely. His hands rub your lower stomach like he’s feeling his property. Even as he falls flaccid, he stays inside. He needs to make sure everything has drained. If he could, he’d keep you filled with his seed forever.

Tender, slow sex involves you riding Daddy. He squeezes your thighs and tummy as you bounce. He praises every movement, every part, every itty-bitty sound. Your passion is so important to him. Seeing your body seek out its pleasure and rapture in the safety of your own little world fills his heart with love.

Dominant Daddy is less common yet so fulfilling. His thick, wet tongue washes deep. Fingers spread you wide. His erection spreads you further. You’ll be thrown on the bed, stuck under him for multiple beautiful orgasms. As you cum, moan ‘thank you’ again and again. Your gratitude encourages him. He’ll keep you moaning into the morning. 

Hound Dog

The second Ryo entered that seriously horny stage of puberty, he knew his dominance. As he started having sex, it only flourished. He’s rough, fast, controlling, and one-hundred percent, hands down a brat tamer. Your whines and protests are cute, but he always wins. Hearing his rasping, growling voice is enough to get you to concede to his demands.

Aftercare and any delicate aspects will take time and learning on his part. He wants to be so gentle, caring, and sweet with you. His natural rough nature gets in the way. As any good Daddy is patient with his little girl, a good girl needs to be patient with him. And when he gets there, he gets there. You’ll be swaddled in a warm blanket, given candy and drinks, and your favorite bed-time Tv will play while you wind down. His warm, smooth tongue laps over bruises and scratches.

There’s one big thing about this Daddy: God, he just loves to watch you suck: him (specifically his foreskin), his fingers, your fingers, a lollipop, a pacifier, whatever. Lay on his chest, wrapped in a blanket, and nurse on a binkie as you fall asleep. The most common way sex starts is with a blowjob. It commonly ends that way as well. He either makes you finish him with no pleasure for you or, after you’re finished, he lays you down and deepthroats you.

Right off the bat, punishments are a main part. There’s a written list on the fridge you must obey. Though he doesn’t spank. You might act up just to get spanked, and he won’t have that. The discipline always matches the offense. Are you back talking? You’re eating something you don’t like. Is your temper too hot? You’re taking an ice-cold shower for five minutes. Are you ignoring him? Daddy’s going to rile you up then leave you hanging and whining, showing you what it’s like to be neglected.

After the punishment is complete, Ryo transitions right into aftercare. Daddy loves you enough to punish you. That love is strengthened after by his licks and kisses. Besides, Daddies who don’t show their little girl compassion and care afterward, aren’t good Daddies. He loves and respects you and wants you to know, see, and feel that.

And the punishments never push past your boundaries. You’re never put in danger. In any way. The safe word is always available. He won’t give you food you truly can’t handle for whatever reason. He’s right beside you as you shower just in case something goes wrong. The moment the water’s shut off, you’re immediately swathed in a cozy towel.

During one of his more… inflamed moods, you’re fastened in a collar. It’s pink with little flowers. The heart decoration on the front is a padlock. Only he has the key. It has ‘Daddy’s Girl’ inscribed on the back. It goes on as soon as you get home. And it stays on until you leave. There is a leash he’ll use if you aren’t behaving, holding, leading, and controlling all your movements.

There are times when he goes into (sort of) a heat. It could be a quirk side effect. It could just be him. Either way, you’re going to get completely dominated. Your hair will be pulled. Your throat will be choked and fucked. Your cheeks, both sets, will be red and raw. Scratch marks and dark bruises will stain your neck, legs, and back.

His favorite is any doggy-style position. It’s carnal and crude. Daddy has total authority since his weight bears down, caging you to the bed. Use your voice. Let him hear every gasp and cry. Beg for him. Plead for more. Pray for just one more orgasm as your hair’s tugged and clit’s smack sore. The harder you crave, the harder he thrusts.

Sweet sex is a rare time when he kisses and cuddles. Heat surrounds you. Muscled thighs and callused hands direct your weak, longing body. His tongue never leaves your mouth, licking over yours, causing drivel to drip down your chin. It may not be rough, but the sincerity and intimacy provide more than enough pleasure for an amazing orgasm. And Daddy passionately walks you through it.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #hound dog #hound dog x reader #ryo inui #ryo inui x reader #aizawa imagine #gang orca imagine #hound dog imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha smut #tw daddy kink #tw slapping #tw choking #tw spitting

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles @beskarboobs @wintermuteway

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña headcanon #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javi peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña headcanons #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos #caffeine rush

[allforyoumylovely]

emma, hiii. you're taking requests, like that's the best thing ever hihi. idk why but I've had this image in my head of sander resting against robbe's chest as he robbe reads to him, while he runs a hand through sander's hair. maybe sander is coming out of a bad episode or maybe they're just relaxing on a sunday, but yeah.... maybe something like that hihi. much love to you emma <333

Cille, this was an absolute dream prompt for me, my gosh 💘 📖  I went off on a few tangents but hopefully that’s okay sfhjg. Walk, shower, read. It’s their little routine 🧡  Thank you for sending me this. Love you! Btw let me know if I should upload these on ao3 or if they should just be little tumblr exclusives?

Sander always knows when he’s fading away, when he’s turning into a shell of himself. But he never knows when he’s going to fall asleep at the wheel. Until it’s too late, until he crashes. And that’s when he loses all sense of who he is, of what he enjoys or how he likes to dress or what his voice normally sounds like. Sometimes the only indication of time passing is his alarms that tell him to take his meds and eat at set times.

Although he doesn’t reach the point anymore where he wants to be physically erased – he knows that this seemingly perpetual state of sadness isn’t definitive no matter how much his brain tries to convince him otherwise – some days all he can drag himself out of bed for is a cup of coffee and a cigarette or a few slices of tangerine, the scent reminding him of his boy, his college boy. He’ll crack open a window in the living room and curl up against the cushions in the window-seat, the hood of his black hoodie over his head, and there he’ll try weaving his way through the weeds and the tangled neurons in his thunder-stained mind to anything resembling an actual thought with a pinch of substance.

For the days where he’s more clear-headed his mama puts up little post-its around the house with simple tasks for him to do to help him feel useful and necessary. And in the mornings whenever Robbe has spent the night, Sander finds little notes from him too; there’ll be an I love you on his pillow, an I’m so glad you exist placed on his desk and I’m bringing you flowers later <3 hanging on his door. The first time Sander doesn’t think Robbe actually means the one with the flowers, but when he buzzes him in later that afternoon, the first thing he sees is a bouquet of light pink lilies cradled in his arm against the autumn brown of his jacket, the hues so lovely and gentle, just like Robbe. It’s more than Sander’s frail mind can take, and Robbe wipes away the thin streams of warm tears with his sweater paws, and they laugh softly when it only makes it worse.

Since before Robbe, Sander has been figuring out what soothes him, what makes him feel more at ease, what helps him settle back into his body and bones when coming out of a bad episode, and he has slowly built up a list of things that assist in bringing the puzzle pieces of his mind back into place.

Walks

Sander’s aunt has a golden retriever, Bella, who goes on a little holiday at Sander’s when he’s down and spends most of his days at home. In the mornings she’ll pad over the hard-wood floor to his bed and nuzzle her nose against Sander’s face until he wakes up, waiting patiently for her walk. It’s easier for Sander to get out of bed knowing there’s someone relying on him for their needs and wellbeing. He’ll take her and himself on a walk in the fog-blue mornings when the morning traffic is yet to come, and then again in the early evening when it’s still light out but the streets are quieter, enough for him to give his brain some stimulation when it feels like it has slowed to a halt. The sound of his boots against the sidewalk reminds him that he’s still part of the world, that he hasn’t completely vanished after all.

Sometimes he goes by himself, just listening to and observing the city around him with pale eyes. Other times Robbe goes with him, sleepy-eyed and rosy-cheeked in the mornings, relaxed and loose-limbed at night. He doesn’t curl his hand around Sander’s but lets it hang by his side with their pinkies brushing, open and inviting, for Sander to take if and when he feels like it. Sander will thread their fingers together always, but he loves Robbe for giving him a choice and never forcing anything on him.

Often, they find a bench somewhere, in a park or at the river, a place that isn’t too crowded but still has plenty of things for Sander to rest his eyes on. It’s only the middle of September but some leaves are already falling, lying yellow and limp on the ground, and Robbe notices Sander’s wondering expression.

“It’s probably because the weather has been so dry; they’re shedding their leaves to conserve water and energy,” he says.

And Sander instinctively inches closer, a small smile on his lips. “Clever you.”

Bella sits by Sander’s legs with her head propped on his knee, her deep brown eyes alternatively scanning the place and glancing up at him, sensing his sadness. She’s calm and curious and cuddly, reminding him of a certain someone. When Sander tells him, Robbe breathes out a little giggle, making Sander gaze at him more deeply than he has in days, at the silky curls around his ears and the blinking hoop and the crescent dimples curved into his cheeks, and he’ll quietly rest his head on the slope of Robbe’s shoulder, a few tiny clearings of blue sky starting to appear in his overcast mind.

Showers

Back at home, he and Robbe linger in the hallway for a bit, their hair messy, the scent of fresh air in their clothes. When Robbe says that his green, sparkly eyes are coming back, Sander curls a few fingers in the front of Robbe’s shirt, feeling the firm plane of his stomach against his knuckles as he mumbles, “Shower.”

Some nights Sander can’t stand the mere idea of catching glimpses of himself in the mirror; hates the way he looks with his violet circles and dull, greasy hair. So Robbe will light a couple of candles, and they’ll undress in the dim orange glow and quietly get under the shower spray. And there, with Sander’s forehead resting against his own, Robbe will wash Sander’s hair and tell him that he looks beautiful in this light, while his fingers work in small, bone-melting circles. The near orgasmic pressure on his scalp helps reconnecting Sander’s mind and body, making him press up tightly against Robbe, finally diving back into the swirling, velvety heat that licks into every cell of his being.

“Thank you for… For staying with me,” he says between hushed breaths and light kisses. It falls clumsy from his lips, sounding graver than he intends it to, but Robbe, the angel soul that he is, moulds his answer into five words of pure reassurance that protectively wrap themselves around Sander’s heart.

“I’m going to marry you.”

Sander doesn’t cry. But he’s very damn close.

Reading

This one begins one night maybe a year into their relationship. While Robbe brushes his teeth, Sander wanders Robbe’s room, taking in the familiarity of it, running a hand over the forest green sweatshirt draped over his chair, trailing the edge of his desk with a few fingertips. When he reaches his set of shelves, he sees it wedged in between a plant and some school supplies: a book of bedtime stories filled with beautiful watercolour illustrations, the cover a painting of a dark blue night sky with a full moon reading for her stars over a little sleeping village. The spine is threadbare, seemingly from the countless times of being opened and closed. As he flicks through the crinkled pages, soft lips press against the nape of his neck and the back of his shoulder.

“Are you snooping around my room?” Robbe mumbles.

“Mhm,” Sander hums. “What’s this book?”

Twining his arms around Sander’s stomach from behind Robbe says, “When I was little my mama used to read these stories aloud for me at night. She was looking through some stuff the other day and found it again.” He hooks his chin over Sander’s shoulder. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Very.” Sander glances back at Robbe with a squeezing feeling in his chest. “Did it make you fall asleep?”

Robbe smiles. “Every time.”

Sander drops his gaze back to the book, asking quietly, “Will you read for me?”

And Robbe brushes a “Sure” and a kiss behind his ear, tugging him along to the bed.

It’s something they do now: Robbe reading aloud for Sander whenever he feels low and doesn’t have many words to offer. Sander then tucks his head under Robbe’s chin, and Robbe tangles his fingers in his freshly washed and citrussy-smelling hair, scraping over his scalp in endless, soothing motions. Safe and sound, Sander listens to stories about naughty star-children, wizards flying about in rolled up rugs, and a Goodnight-ship with live stuffed animals as passengers. They flow over him like dripping streams of honey, Robbe’s voice lovely and wonderful and a little sleepy, and Sander tries so desperately to make his foggy brain hold onto the words.

Sometimes when the night air is cooling Sander’s room and Robbe feels a little cold, he’ll wear a thick hoodie to bed. Sander loves the scent and the comfy feel of the well-worn fabric under his palm, but sometimes he gets a little frowny and frustrated at having to fumble for his small waist; so Robbe pulls it off despite the goosebumps rising on his skin, and Sander presses his ear to his heart and tightens his hold around him, sharing his body heat his only job while he listens to stories from when Robbe was little. And Sander feels little too; but it’s something he allows himself. A few years ago, he didn’t dare dream that he’d ever have this with someone; didn’t think he even had this level of softness in himself.

But here he is. Here they are.

He has never wanted to be someone’s more than he does Robbe’s; it’s so clear that he belongs to him. And it’s crazy, Sander thinks. Because no matter how feeble and numb around the edges his body and mind feel, his love for Robbe is always right there in a molten pond at the core of him, and Sander could cry at the fact that his brain always lets him have that.

In the days following, when he finds that he has enough energy to send Robbe little dorky, flirty texts throughout the day, such as Bella woke me up with wet, sloppy kisses. Wish it was you or when you’re in the mood for a snack but you’re not there💔  with an attached photo of himself pouting at the open fridge, he knows that the darkness in his chest and brain is releasing its hold and taking flight.

#drabbles 💗 #wtfock #cille 💗