#it Is weirdly specific but like i dig it

[reactivebangtan]

Can I ask for 46, and 37, but like.....fluffy??? (With Namjoon and his flight attendant girlfriend?......what do you mean "self serving" and "weirdly specific"?) (Btw I've followed this blog for such a long time and I'm so happy you're coming back! Tbh I've missed you 🤷‍♀️💛💛💛)

send me a number and a member and i’ll write a drabble or one-shot based off of it.

#37: ‘ stop being so attractive. ’#46: ‘ help me find my shirt. ’‘ you know, as much as i want to… i don’t want to. ’

comments: i hope you know i watched several videos on being a flight attendant just so i know at least slightly what it’s like just for you and this one-shot

coming home after a long string of flights always felt euphoric – you would put it up there with the high of just getting off a terrifying roller coaster, seeing a live concert of your favorite band and probably sex. needless to say, finally sleeping in your own bed and seeing your boyfriend were among the best feelings you could think of. so, one might understand that leaving all of that was always incredibly, incredibly difficult.

and, namjoon never tried to make it any easier.

the few times you got a sudden and unexpected call in to a flight were always the worst, but the morning before you knew you had to leave were almost as bad. with those, he had time to ruminate on his way to try and make you stay. of course, you could never blame him… you both barely had time to see one another with both of your careers taking you to such different places, all the time. what you were grateful for was namjoon’s unending patience with the both of you – sure, he tried to make you stay, but he always understood when you couldn’t. he always told you he’d be waiting for you to return, always sending you off with an ‘ i’ll miss you ’… but, that still didn’t stop him from trying.this morning was no different… you could feel his hand tracing up the curve of your spine, his eyes probably still half-closed and the softest, gentlest smile on his face. somehow, someway, he made the mornings feel easy… before he didn’t.“your alarm is about to go off.”of course he can tell you’re awake, because he always seems to know everything – or maybe he just observed you so much that he knew all your tells. it could’ve been the way your breathing changed or a shift in your body, but he always knew.“i think my body knows you’re gonna give me a hard time about getting out of bed. we need the extra few minutes,” you say, teasingly.“or maybe it’s an extra few minutes for us to savor each other…” and he says it with that smirk that makes you weak in the knees and you almost feel your will to get up and pack leaving you without even seeing it yet.finally, you turn over to graze over his face with your eyes, reaching up to cup his cheek and gaze at him in that way that makes him weak in the knees. that smirk you so love turns into that smile you so love, dimpling his cheeks as his hand covers yours and you’re reminded once again how warm he is, inside and out.he almost shivers at the way you trace his full lips with your index finger and you feel the way his smile widens underneath your touch and the way he inhales slowly as you inch towards him. he’s expecting your lips laid against his, savoring the taste of each other in just the way he suggested – taking these few precious moments and spending them in the best way. his eyes even flutter shut at your newfound proximity, you feel the way he leans in towards you, the way he gives himself to you so easily.and, just like that… you pull away when he’s vulnerable and isn’t fast enough to drag you back in.“nope!” popping the ‘p’ as you slide out of bed just fast enough that his reach misses you completely once he catches up with what you’ve just done.the deep vibrato of his chuckle mixes with your lilted giggle and he nearly trips over himself to chase after you, the clumsy ‘stomp, stomp, stomp’ of his feet and the gentle patter of yours making their way to your bathroom in quick succession. a gasp slips past past your lips when you feel his strong arm wrap around your middle and tug you back into his body, but you don’t bother struggling or fighting his embrace -- as much as you need to get ready, you both know that you don’t want to.still, you vocalize that you must: “joon! i need to get ready. you know i have to be at the airport early. let go and help me find my shirt!”“you know...” he drawls it out, right into your ear. “as much as i want to... i don’t want to.”and, he always has a way with words -- the way to your heart, to your stomach, to your thighs -- but something about that simple statement had you tumbling back into bed with him for another hour.another hour that you didn’t have, but an hour you made up by rushing faster than you ever thought you could in your life. you get mascara on your eyelid and your shirt is tucked in a little crooked under your blazer, but you make it work, like you always do.and, he makes up for that by sending you a love letter in the form of a voice note over text:“i hope you land safely, wherever you’re going. and, i was going to apologize for this morning, because i know you hate rushing... but i decided i wasn’t going to. not because i don’t feel bad, but because i don’t want to apologize for wanting to spend as much time with you as i can. i miss you. i know you miss me, too... the time apart never makes me regret it, though. the waiting, the yearning... it never gets old and i’ll never get tired of it, because it’s with you -- it’s for you. so, i’m not going to apologize... i’m not gonna say sorry, because i’m gonna tug you back into bed and say as many sweet things into your ear as i can until i feel you give in to me. i’ll do it next time and the time after that and every time after that, too. anything to get that extra five minutes between you being there and you being gone...i love you. fly high, baby... i’ll see you when you come home, to me.”

#Anonymous #requests. #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts reader insert #bts reactions #i honestly giggled at this ask #it Is weirdly specific but like i dig it #this was really fun to write to #cute!!!!! #and i truly do love writing joon bug

[krourou2]

… y’know. I know it’s simply the nature of the Internet, but there’s something both oddly lovely and dreadful about how things can just… cease to be. Just stop being there. Vanish into dust, save perhaps hollowed ruins should anyone think to archive it, faint echoes of what once was.

Only ghosts remain.

#oh my gosh shut up krou #Does this make sense? It doesn’t make sense why am I asking #At this point this is simply screaming into the void to be honest. I’m not really expecting comprehension. #I absolutely have not spent two hours trying and failing to track something down besides web archive files wdym #I am not specifying what but just. What do you do when it died sixteen years ago. What CAN you do. Nothing. #Honestly this has all been very frustrating. Sifting and digging and all that remains is dust and faint inscriptions. #If you know what this is about you know what this is about. #But given I’ve made maybe ONE very passing reference in tags AT MOST odds are good you won’t. #… ok fine this is about anime. Specifically a subbing team that went defunct back in ‘07 that I’ve grown fond of #only to find out it’s all dust in the wind. No means of contact. The website’s been down since July ‘07. The usernames generic by now. #It’s all just… gone. #The only traces it ever existed are dull phantoms resting in the web archive. #The open plaza of the forum remains but behind the doorframes lies only rubble. Faded scripts and broken tools remain but little else. #What led me down this exact rabbit hole was a little notetaking project I’ve been working on #and I noticed one episode was subbed by a different team than usual. I got curious what the usual team’s translation looked like. #Turns out it doesn’t look like anything because it no longer exists as far as I can tell. #Not unless someone miraculously still has it after 16-17 years. #…… it feels good to get that off my chest honestly. Even if it is weirdly specific.

[citizen-zero]

I like love Trixie Mattel’s Christmas toy unboxing videos because it’s all the hottest toys of the season and as someone who used to work in the toy section at Target it brings me such joy to imagine the wailing and gnashing of teeth of all the shitty parents I had to deal with back then who waited till the last minute and then got mad when you either didn’t have it or if you did have it you couldn’t “hold one aside” for them because fuckin everyone wants that toy and it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t begrudge children toys but I do love the idea spiting their shitty customer parents.

#sometimes the opposite was true tho #there were 2 occasions in which parents came looking for specific toys they’d been looking for at multiple stores #and they were really nice and not pushy about asking so I put the effort in #and they were so happy when I found what they were looking for in the back room #like one year this dad was looking for a v specific JoJo Siwa doll and we had none on the floor but like 4 in the back #but they were weirdly and improperly stowed so I was DIGGING #but I came out with it and he looked like he was gonna cry and he shook my hand #there was another time this one mom asked us to help her get a specific toy her kid wanted but the kid was actually with her #so she went around to a different aisle and I grabbed the toy and had the electronics guy ring it up and bag it before she came over #so the kid had no clue what was being paid for #and she was so happy and excited especially because we only had 2 left in the whole store #personal #erika's blog and bar

[loudmound]

the ezio trilogy that lives in my head would not be good in a video game format. it would be better as a graphic novel.

#stormy shouts #i am talking to myself don't mind me #but rlly i do think that the ideas i have abt how the ezio trilogy could be improved from a narrative perspective in regards to ezio #would be better established in written or drawn form #bcs video games can only really dig deep into a character so much if that's not the point of the game #and i ruminate a lot on ezio as a character bcs i've kind of taken the notion that we are seeing the world THROUGH ezio's eyes #a la desmond reliving her genetic memories in the animus #we're with her so much so it only makes sense for the ezio trilogy in my head to be very much centered on ezio's pov #i also make a point of it to feel like. weirdly intimate. too intimate. #bcs after ezio learns of desmond she feels like she's being watched by him at every turn #and in specific instances of her life she very much is #she regards him as the spectre that hangs heavy on her shoulders #the recipient of a message she could only barely begin to comprehend #and she can only hope that desmond is just as lost as she is

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #02. XXX!

𐙚 topic。．hcs of random things that turn on hsr men

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight

。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is

“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”

You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.

“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.

And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips

。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the fabric. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.

“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”

Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.

You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.

“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.

“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.

That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.

“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds

。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.

“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.”

“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?

“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.

“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”

you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.

“There, you have a new wound to work on.”

He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.

#𐙚．。articles #honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #blade x reader #hsr blade #sunday smut #aventurine smut #blade smut #divs by v6que & cafekitsune #div by chilumitos

[soullessdianthus]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, dubcon/noncon for the last few headcanons (I've put a warning if you want to stop reading)

Poorly translated German, correct me if needed!

Important note at the end!

✧°.  König is a kind of pervert who fantasizes about you, when he beats his meaty cock with his hand, imagining all of the possible scenarios in his head.

✧°.  With you bend over the surface of the table or desk and him pounding into your tight cunt from behind. Your hair falls out through his thick fingers as he tugs on them to arch your spine better.

✧°.  Perv!König can’t help but stare at your breasts from above (thanks to his height), exposed by the cleavage of your shirt. A soft, plump flesh squeezed by a little to small size of bra. Did you do that on purpose to torment him with the beautiful sight?

✧°.  He wants to sneak his warm hand under your shirt and fondle them, play with both nipples until they’re perky, before he finally laps at them with his wet mouth and sucks.

✧°.  His cock twitches painfully when he sees you with a gun holster or climbing equipment on. The stiff material digging into your plush thighs, one stripe just under the curve of your ass. It gives Perv!König the new fixation he would like to test out with you – a shibari or any other bondage. 

✧°.  Just to have you tied up like a little gift and on his sick mercy.

✧°.  But there would come time, where the fantasies, weirdly specific porn and fucking his own palm is not enough, he craves more.

✧°.  König starts to supervise your training with a gun or in a gym. Instead of just verbally correcting your aiming posture, he would stand behind you, his bulky arms wrapped around your sides. He would lean over your shoulder and whisper a few words in German. Quickly and incoherently, but you didn’t understand it anyways! You don’t know German! 

✧°.  “Fokus auf das Ziel, nicht mein Schwanz, Schlampe" [ger.: Focus on the target, not my dick, slut].”

✧°.  Perv!König is delusional as fuck. He would interpret your confusion and shyness in such situations with succumbing to his flirting. Your eyes were begging for his attention, ja? 

✧°.  He would absolutely push your limits, telling you to do a series or two more in the gym just to hear your little whines and moans due to your hard work! 

✧°.  Not to mention how König is fascinated with your scent even after such an intense workout. The sweat glistening on your smooth skin, pretty face red from exhaustion. You looked exactly just like he imagines you after being fucked stupid. 

✧°.  But even creeping on you in the gym or armory wasn’t enough for Perv!König! He still wants more! 

✧°.  I bet we can all agree that he would be a panty thief, especially those used ones. König would take them out of the laundry and rub along his painfully throbbing cock just to cum into them! 

✧°.  And then he put them back in the basket and pretended like nothing happened. Although, he was a little sad that you didn’t put them on with his warm seed still on it. 

✧°.  This way Perv!König could mark you as his girl. <3

✧°.  Perv!König would sneak to the bathroom to peek at you taking a bath or shower, admiring your naked body from a safe distance.

[Dubcon/Noncon Warning]

✧°.  If you ever happen to get super drunk while hanging out with him, Perv!König would absolutely take advantage of your easily persuasive state. Pulling you into his lap, because it’s more comfortable than a wooden chair, ja? Just to help you relax, because you seemed so nervous about getting drunk with your Colonel!

✧°.  König would place his big hand over your stomach and slowly slide down, under the hem of your pants. When you started mumbling something in your drunken state, he was quick to whisper little praises into your ear, assuring he would take good care of you. 

✧°.  His fingers easily found their way into your panties – who knows, maybe it was the same pair he jerked himself into before? Perv!König took his time playing with you, rubbing your clit in circles, before he eventually plunged two of his thick fingers into your sweet pussy. 

✧°.  He had to shush your precious mewls, when he continued stroking that specific spongy spot inside of you, until you came onto his fingers, still sitting prettily in his lap. Like a trophy. King’s trophy.

A/N: This was highly requested and let me tell you ─ I have two more pervy scenarios in the drafts: Perv!Boyfriend!König and Perv!Landlord!König. It depends if you want to read those. Let me know please. 👉👈

#request #konig cod #könig cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig mw2 #perv!könig #perv!konig

[kaoticspoonie]

Lol so we r doing a mini party and everyone is bringing snacks or whatever and one of the ppl is bringing a sound system thing and asked for music requests and why is my brain stressing about that?

#ok so i may have weirdly specific incidents #like in high school psych we all had to pick a song and dig into it and like analyse it and they didnt say it was gonna go on a playlist #and the playlist was anonymous but everyone made fun of my song choice which like wasnt even the version i liked?? #thats one of the many incidents but that one was especially weird? i think its bc of the anonymous thing

[plasticferal]

can u plsss write a Matt smut where the reader is like obsessed with his teeth and then she kind of jokes ab licking his teeth but shes not actually joking and then u know the rest

take it or leave it | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this was so fun to write. here’s some kind of soft, lust filled bff!matt turned lovers.

warnings: fem reader, not obscene or 18+ but read at your own discretion. a lot of dialogue, light biting, mark leaving, explicit language.

you just can't stop staring at your best friend. all he's doing is chewing on a paper straw, swirling it around his soft drink. his eyes are glued to his screen, scrolling through his phone, both of his elbows planted on the dining table.

"i can feel you staring," matt talks with the straw still in his mouth, flashing his perfect teeth with a conceited smirk. you scoff, digging your fork back into the dessert that sits in front of you, to avoid the interrogation you feel coming your way.

"i didn't say stop," you feel his eyes burn holes into you, tone earnest and deep, just waiting for you to glance up at him again.

"wasn't even staring," you speak through a muffled mouthful of cake, not caring if he sees the food in your mouth. he's the closest person in your life, he's probably seen worse.

"real sexy, kid" he teases, staring at your mouth and chuckling as you cover it to swallow your food, flipping him off from across the table.

"no for real, what were you looking at? like be specific," he asks, placing his phone screen down on the table, shuffling in his chair and adjusting his posture. you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he's on about.

"i can't just admire my best friend?" you sarcastically smile and bat your eyelashes at him, resting your chin into the palm of your hands.

"specifics, go." matt isn't having it, and you drop the act fast.

you ponder on your answer for a moment, or at least pretend to. you know exactly what you want to say but you don't need him getting a big head. well, bigger. he's a walking, talking, humble brag. especially around you.

"ah, okaaaay," you pout your lips with contemplation.

"your eyes i guess. they're pretty. you know that, though" you shrug, prodding at your dessert again, not having any intention on finishing it at this point. matt has you cornered with his new train of thought.

"boring, next." he deadpans, throwing his head back with an eye roll before looking at you again. he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back leisurely.

"fine. ah, your teeth. i'm like obsessed with them. is that a better answer?" you quip, grabbing your plate and pushing away from the table to make your way to the sink.

you hear matt behind you let out an audible "huh?" and can picture the confusion on his face. you don't know what it is about his teeth, or his smile in general. you just get stunned at how perfect they are, the way they just suit his face so much.

they just look like they could form the perfect bite in your skin. he's always chewing a new flavoured gum, flashing them subtly past his perfectly pink lips, and his breath always smells nice. it's weirdly inviting. all thoughts you absolutely shouldn't be having about matthew.

"hang on, rewind. my teeth?" there's an amused underlining to his response, and you just wish you could take back what you said, joke or not.

you rinse the plate off and immediately ignore him, drying your hands with paper towel before bee-lining for the bin in the small dark corner of the room.

"you got your answer, matthew. get over it," you exhale, tossing it into the black rubbish bag.

"no no, i'm not done with you yet," you hear his chair make a disturbing scratchy squeak against the vinyl floors with how fast he pushes his chair back, following where your body is moving.

you walk around the dining table in the opposite direction of him, but he changes directions to match yours. you collapse onto the couch, sitting cross legged and he falls into the spot right next to you, despite having the entire couch. your shoulders are touching and his knee his touching yours.

"you were staring at my teeth and now i need to know why," matt requests, leaning one elbow up on the back of the couch, facing you completely.

"i can't answer tha-"

"y/n" he cuts you off seriously.

"i don't know, okay? drop it, matthew." you push back with frustration, not understanding why he can't. it's either he's pushing your buttons on purpose or he can sense the subject easily taking a turn in a different direction.

"i'm not trying to piss you off. i just wanted know. sorry" his voice softens, and he shifts so he's facing the t.v.

you almost feel bad snapping at him, considering you instigated his reaction in the first place by not justifying it straight away.

you bite your nails, trying to avoid talking. it's so hard with matt. he just always brings it out of you. looking at him while he watches the screen ahead of you just makes you yearn to hear his voice again. he's so quiet for the most part that when you get him out of his shell you don't ever want him to stop.

"i've always liked your teeth. i don't know what it is. i wish i could explain it but i can't," you speak shyly, a very rare feeling around him.

you have literally shared every waking thought with this man. it just feels so different when it involves him personally. on a physical descriptive level. matt leans his head back on the massive couch cushion, giving you a lazy half grin, looking up at you through hooded eyes.

"do you just like staring at them or do you wanna like, touch them?" he flashes his teeth like a vampire, and you push his face away with a laugh, knowing he's teasing with good intention. he chuckles, pushing your own hand back into your body.

"you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"not until i can wrap my head around it, no" he folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and they disappear under his oversized hoodie, snickering at his own defence.

he looks you in the eyes, the same fiery stare he gives you when he's about to say something out of pocket, you can read him like a book.

"you wanna touch 'em?"

"matt," you scold, knowing whatever he has planned is just to keep this joke lingering. or what you think is a joke to him.

"i'm serious, let's see if we can get to the bottom of this little fetish of yours" he's so pleased with his words, grinning like an idiot as he nestles his face closer to yours.

"i'd get more pleasure out of it with my tongue," you chortle, then pause suddenly, not believing what you just said out loud.

you force your face to plaster a look on it that says 'i'm joking' but there's no part of what you just said that matt is taking comically.

"go on." matt replies.

"what's gotten into you, tonight?" you have a half simper half befuddled look as you lean back to make sure you're seeing him right.

making sure you're speaking to matt, not someone posing as him with how bold and absurd he's been acting for the past few minutes. he's always being flirtatious, in a bantering and unalloyed manner. this felt different, he's being a lot more direct. a lot less blithe.

"i am literally giving you one chance to do this and then i'm never bringing it up again. take it or leave it, y/n"

"open your mouth, then.” you say in a ‘i bet you won’t’ tone, not believing he actually will. you’re taken aback when he tilts his head up lightly, an innocent look on his face when he parts his mouth, creating a perfect oval.

“you’re seriously okay with this?” you ask, beginning to lean forward, tempting and just waiting for the moment he pulls away, or snaps his mouth closed. he nods, mouth still open.

you know him well enough by now to understand that when matt says he’ll never mention it again, he means it. he’s petty like that.

“fuck it, m’god” you mumble, cupping the side of his jaw, fingertips resting under his ear and being tickled by his hair, pulling him to you.

your breaths intertwine as you hover over his mouth, your lips don’t touch when you poke your tongue out and let it slide behind his top teeth and trail across the sharp edge, slowly, left to right. when you pull away, you observe him.

matt closes his mouth, sucking his teeth and plastering a thoughtful look on his face. you wait for his response.

“well?” you can only wait for so long before you’re trying to entice him to say something, anything.

he adjusts himself on the lounge, full body facing you at this point, if he was pushed up any closer he’d be on top of you.

“just like, out of curiosity. can you do it again?” he asks bashfully. he did say take it or leave it. so you take it, while he’s dangling it in front of you.

this time, you curve your hand gently around the back of his neck to guide his face. tilting your head slightly before pulling him in. you lick the back of the teeth again, even slower than the first time. you can feel matt holding his breath, and the taste of the root beer he just had still lingering.

matt takes a deep breath when you part from him again, flaring his nostrils slightly and sucking on the inside of his cheek. he looks confused, in a content way. but confused nonetheless.

you stare at him, memorising this look on his face. without breaking his stare with you, matt reaches for a pillow and throws it over his lower body, holding it in place. before he has a chance to set it onto his lap, you glance down to see the bulge forming under his black shorts.

“did you like my tongue in your mouth, matthew?” your words are jovial, but he turns away from you after you question him, looking quite literally anywhere else.

“no-i,i mean. fuck, i don't know. no." he rambles, response being faster than his brain can even register, not pulling out the best choice of words from his vocabulary.

“no? is that why you let me do it twice?” you tease, turning the table on him.

"you're right," he pauses.

"maybe we should make it three. for good luck." he looks back at you with a red hue on his cheeks, simpering smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hugs the pillow on his lap.

"only if you ask nicely," you squint your eyes, and he rolls his.

"i'm not beggin' for it. no way." he shakes his head, boston accent coming through a lot thicker when he's defensive. it happens a lot, and that's how you know you have him cornered.

"your call, matty. take it or leave it." the front you're putting on for him is a fraud, having a gut feeling that it's the only cue he needs to surrender. he's silent for a solid minute.

"fuck, jesus, okay." he finishes, grabbing your face this time. he caresses your jaw, and his touch is so firm and so warm.

the pillow between your bodies is like a barrier, but he pushes up against it hard to bring you as close to his face as you can. you brace yourself for him to open his mouth again, but instead, your lips collide.

your eyes close instinctively and his soft, wet lips move with yours, taking your bottom lip between the kiss, and letting his tongue slide in and dance across your own. slowly he pulls away, fluttering inches over your mouth instead of distancing himself.

"i don't know, i don't know why i just-" matt is still touching your face through his panic-stricken words.

you don't even counter his sentence before grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him back to your mouth. you shove the pillow off the lounge in-between your bodies with your knee while shifting your body weight onto his lap, an easy transition considering how close you've been the whole time.

matt grabs your waist immediately, securing you on top of him and deepening the kiss. you feel your throat shake with his small, desirous moan into your mouth. you sink all of your body weight onto him and can feel his dick underneath you growing harder, heat radiating from between his legs.

the kiss becomes heavier, more desperate and messy, missing each others mouths and clashing your teeth, taking breaths for a split second before attacking each other's lips again. your nails dig into his shoulders and matt's hands lower, stationing on your upper thigh.

you're in such a state of disbelief but ignore every doubt or worry you're forcing yourself to have. you've mentally convinced yourself this is a dream. you're not actually grinding into your bestfriend's groin, making out with him and having his thumbs get closer and closer to your heat, feeling wet already at the friction.

matt kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek bone, the tip of your nose, then your jaw. he trails the kisses on your jaw lower and lower, grazing his teeth along your delicate skin until he reaches he crease of your neck just under your ear, and you lean into him as much as you possibly can.

"you like my teeth so much, wait until you see what they can do to your neck," he forces deeply against your skin, biting at your earlobe.

"god, matt," you exhale.

you feel a sharp, stinging suck to your neck, making you gasp. he pulls your skin into his mouth, tongue rubbing the area that he's suffocating in his bite. he pulls away, making a sharp sound when he lets go. he repeats the same thing just underneath his first bite, and your body is twisting and distorting in his arms. you tug at his hair with a warning.

"you’re gonna have to explain those marks." you tremble, yet not stopping him. he taunts a stifled laugh.

"don't care," he starts, pulling your shirt off your shoulder and sucking another deep purple mark on your collar bone.

"i'll spell my name out on your skin if i have to." it’s like he’s a trance, trailing his middle finger along the bites he just left before looking up at you with a dazed smile.

his chest is rising and falling prominently, both of you catching your breath after the intense session. matt gently presses his lips to yours again, and you lean your forehead against his. he grips at the bottom hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

"if i knew my teeth would get you on top of me, i would have let you lick em' sooner," he has a crooked, dopey grin on his face. you blush, flustered at his words.

"is this is insane? you don't think you're gonna regret it?" you're cautious with your words, voice gentle, head still leaning against his and your fingers playing with the hair creeping on the nape of his neck.

"i could never regret you." he shakes his head softly, making you smile and peck another gentle kiss on his lips. you know he means his words, and they make you want to melt into a puddle.

"smile for me quickly," you banter, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at his face properly.

he covers his face with his big hands and you let out a hearty laugh, attempting to pry them off and begging him to stop hiding.

"matt! you'll let me shove my tongue down your throat but can't smile for me?" your stomach hurts with the laughter caused by the sheer fight he's putting up covering his face.

when you finally get him to drop his hands he has the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. smiling ear to ear, and eyes closed shut, putting on a show for you. he drops his face quickly once you've had your time to look, and has those signature tired and heavy eyes make an appearance once again.

you lean in, slowly, so slow. your face is drawing him in like a magnet, him following your moves to meet in the middle. he flashes his teeth once again, and you run the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, feeling his teeth too, budging his mouth open.

"now you're just taking advantage of it," his raspy voice speaks, pulling you back to his mouth by your neck and leading with his tongue, letting it slide in and moaning into your parted lips. they finally sink into each others after teasing each other, seeing who falls into the kiss first.

your tongues fight for dominance and matt grabs the back of your neck hard, forcing you to stay where you are. you're tilting left and he's tilting right as you focus on breathing through your nose to stay attached to each other as long as you can.

you can literally feel matt take his time to explore your mouth, circling every inch he possibly can. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard, making you gasp before pulling back and letting go, both of your mouths wet and glistening with each others saliva.

matt wipes your mouth with his thumb, applying enough pressure but still being gentle. he's staring at your skin before his eyes fixate on those marks he left earlier.

"oh fuck, they're pretty bad" he giggles, and you roll off his lap with a groan, slapping your hand over your neck as if to hide them from him. your legs drape over his thighs and you can feel him looking at you.

you hide from him by sinking into the lounge for no good reason other than you think somehow it'll make the marks disappear, or manifest that it does.

"i didn't even bring makeup to cover it," you fake cry, seeing how bad it could make him feel, but he doesn't budge. matt slaps your thigh as if to say 'i'm not buying it' then rubs your legs soothingly.

"you're not covering them up. i won't let you leave the house if you do, no other option." matt is demanding but lighthearted in his words.

"oh no, i can't leave, what a shame," you dramatically flail your hand to your temple like an old school movie scene, and matt pokes your rib to get you to snap out of it.

"if you ever want to see my teeth again i'd watch the dramatics, honey" and those words coming from him alone make you cut the act, flushing red and sitting up properly.

you don't know how he's managed to whip you into line, usually being the other way around, but you're not risking it.

you've somehow taken more than you could ever ask for from him, and you're still anxious that you've bitten off more than you can chew. no pun intended.

regardless, you're in ignorant bliss. you'll take everything you can get from matt, and more, if he's willing to give it to you. which at this point, you're sure he is.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

[kinjedl]

A new migrant's perspective on how Tumblr works

So, basically, how Tumblr works is this:

We are all, all of us, in a series of caves. Some of the inhabitants of the caves have dug little holes or access routes to the surface, where strange things like blue tweeting birds dwell. Some of us have fled here from a site the alien rules, and a few of us are splitting our time between their weirdly bright and shining domes and our comfy moss-covered holes.

From within your cave, you can dig tunnels. Some people choose to dig tunnels up to the top of other peoples' caves just to observe. Occasionally they might sneak down and steal a choice morsel to drag back to their own hoard, sometimes they just observe. Some tunnels don't lead to the caves owned by other individuals, but instead to dumping grounds where people shove copies of things that they think are related to a single topic. There's no actual rules to that, per-se, it's just a sortve rule by collective consensus about what kinds of things should go in that cave. Sometimes things get shoved in there which don't really belong, but that's fine too.

Some people cultivate their caves to reflect their own specific sets of interest - maybe their hoard has a theme, a motif, a genre. Some people just grab whatever looks shiny and show it off to whoever comes by to look.

When you find something that's interesting, you can - and should - grab it and run back to your cave and put it on display. As everyone knows, piracy isn't stealing, since it makes a copy, so the original is left untouched. That's how things spread down here. There's no real pacing to it, so sometimes someone will make a thing, show it off, and no one will notice that it's there until later, at which point it might take off running through the caves as everyone grabs a copy. Sometimes it does that in fits and starts. Sometimes it hits a particularly nutrient rich patch of the caves and grows way out of control, far beyond its original creator's intentions. Like a slime mold that hit a big ol batch of protozoa. The slime mold thing is probably more accurate than it should be.

The point isn't the spread, though. Tumblr works opposite of how most other big content sites like Facebook and Reddit and Twitter work. In all of those, the point is to yell at the top of your lungs and get as many people to hear you. If you can't get enough people to hear you, you might spend billions to buy the platform and try to buy more of an audience that way, because the audience is the point.

On Tumblr, instead, the audience is irrelevant. The treasures you can bring back to your cave are the point. The point is to hoard and collect and grow your shinies. It's nice to show them off (because who doesn't like it when their hoard is admired?) but it's the having and the getting, not the giving.

it's more work than reddit or facebook or twitter, because no one is out here trying to tell you what should go in your hoard. Everyone everywhere else has strong feelings on what kind of kitsch and treasures and knickknacks you should have. Here, you have to dig. You'll find a lot of trash in the process, but you have the choice of where your tunnels lead, and which garbage pi... other people's hoards you're sifting through, so it's a friendly sort of grubbing in the dirt that feels comfy once you're used to the muck.

I like it here.

#reddit refugee #reddit migrants #reddit migration #tumblr culture #196 #hellsite #opinion #goblincore #gremlincore #crowcore #slimemoldcore

[luveline]

okay this is so specific but!! 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 with remus and shy!r who has bad hand eczema? mine’s flared up today cos I’ve been washing my hands too much and it’s so awful </3 maybe r is shy about it and doesn’t want to tell remus but he notices anyway and then insists on looking after her 🤍🤍🤍

weirdly enough, I also get eczema on my hands so this was really fun for me! tysm ♡ 

"Could we share? I've forgotten mine," Remus asks, nodding to your textbook. 

You push it in the middle of your desk. Remus was a friend before he became a lecture mate, but something about sitting next to him in such close proximity sets your nerves on end. He can see every line and wrinkle, all the details. Like your sore hands. 

You tuck them between your legs. You and Remus follow along as the lecturer reads from the textbook, glancing up when she shows a diagram in more detail on her huge projector screen. 

"I've been meaning to ask you, are you okay? You're quiet today," Remus whispers, his gaze on the screen. 

You sneak a look at his nice jaw and the triangles of his eyelashes. "I'm okay," you whisper. 

He meets your eyes. "You sure?" 

"Fine. Sorry for being quiet," you say, turning a page of your textbook. Eczema, especially on your hands and fingers, feels raw sometimes, itchy, a platter of bad feelings, and even something as simple as turning a page hurts. 

"Oh, is this why you're unhappy?" Remus asks, sliding his hand under yours. He holds your pink with his thumb to display your palm. "It's getting sore again?" 

You hate for him to see, but you're too shy to take your hand back. "It's not that bad." 

"It looks painful," he says sympathetically. 

Remus doesn't touch the disturbed skin lining your palms, the pad of his thumb running carefully down the side of it. 

"It's disgusting, I know," you mumble. 

"It's not disgusting." He puts your hand down gently, reaching under the desk for his bag. You freeze as his face ducks down. "Your hands are tired, that's all." 

You bring your hand back to your chest. Remus digs for something, and when he sits back up, he asks, "Sorry, can I see?" 

"There's nothing you can do," you say. 

"I brought you something." Remus pushes you're textbook and notepad back to place a round object on the table. It looks like stick deodorant. "That's what I use when the scars on my stomach get dry. It's a new one, though. Didn't think you'd want to share." He smiles at you tentatively. "It really helps me, it might help. There's no harsh chemicals I promise." 

You don't know what to say. In silence, you read the label for irritants (just in case) before you uncap the balm and rub it over your palm, dabbing so as not to drag the skin. It doesn't feel nice to touch but the balm helps soothe the itch, which is enough to ease the pinch from between your brows. 

"That's for you to keep," he says, giving your elbow a friendly shake. "If you hate it, chuck it away. But I can get you another one if it works, angel. Okay? Let me know." 

You swallow around a lump. It's nice to have someone care so much. "Thank you very much, Remus," you say quietly. 

"Don't, 'cos I'll want to give you a cwtch," he admonishes in a whisper. "I'll owe you one after. Shit, don't have a pencil, do you?" 

Only later do you realise that, despite how ill-organised Remus was that morning, he remembered to bring you the balm he bought especially for you. When he offers you the owed hug, you wrap your arms around him and melt. 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

[pedgito]

summary | a new place, a new job, and new problems arise soon thereafter. javier manages to weasle his way under your skin in more ways than one. the first—stealing your designated parking spot. (7.5k+ words)

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, subtle pining/suffering on javi's part, very little reference to narcos plot (so, readable if you've never watched), strangers to enemies to...whatever this is, fingering/oral (f receiving), sex & subtle aftercare, open ended, using my very limited knowledge of spanish (pls feel free to correct me)

author's note | translations are spread throughout. this is my first dip into any character outside of my norm so this is mostly just for fun, but to anyone reading, enjoy!

You liked to think you were as level-headed as they came, always seeing the best in people, always giving them the benefit of the doubt, even here in a place that feels foreign, fresh off the job of a position you were hired to a few weeks ago. Not even a month yet and you were already on the precipice of your first problem.

A situation, perhaps. 

You extensively remember paying for the specific parking spot correlating to your apartment number. It was simple, you paid for it, so by those laws, it was yours. 

Yet somehow, there’s always a car parked in your space.

The first time isn’t a problem, opting to fill the blank spot next to it that is assigned specifically for visitors anyways. How could they have known?

It’s not a big deal. Until it happens again.

Same car, same color. That Jeep Cherokee was turning into your arch-nemesis, one more day of stealing your parking spot away from your keys digging into the paint of the driver’s side door.

Well, you weren’t that evil. But, you were definitely thinking about it. And maybe part of the problem was how unexpectedly stressful your job actually was, working alongside a bunch of macho, testosterone filled DEA agents with a severe lack of manners and time-management outside of catching the bad guys.

It always left you with a mountain of paperwork to deal with, not to mention that ridiculous errands and goose chases you were sent on for a file, or a can of fucking coffee beans because no one had the sense to replace them when they ran out. 

And maybe if the car stood out more you would’ve clocked it earlier, but it doesn’t.

There comes a point where you can’t take the blatant disregard any longer, poised to catch the culprit in the act as you lean against the front hood of the car, jingling your apartment keys around your finger, rehearsing your supposed speech to scare off whoever owns the car.

But, that falls dead on your tongue the moment the owner descends the stairs, appearing from the same floor your own apartment resided on, eyes widening in disbelief.

It was a miracle you both had avoided each other this long.

“Javier?” You spit out, like a bad taste in your mouth. 

Javier eyes you weirdly, still speaking calmly, “Hola, hermosa—I think. You live here?”

You nod slowly, wondering why he seemed so calm, so unbothered.

Ah, right. He wasn’t the one worrying about a parking spot, rather, he was the one stealing it. 

“Yeah, por un par de semanas.” (for a couple of weeks)

Not that it mattered to Javier. 

He laughs under his breath, fiddling with his own keys as he reaches for the handle. You push away from his car, standing steady on your own two feet, arms crossed over your chest and rubbing against the buttons of your blouse, still dressed up from work.

“You’re parking in my spot, Javier.”

Javier eyes the surrounding area, seeing nothing amiss.

“Where’s your car?” He asks, avoiding the accusation entirely.

“Right there,” You point at the car parked beside him, eyes narrowing at his lack of reaction, “beside my parking spot. You know, el que yo pago para.” (the one I pay for)

“Cariño,” and if there was a word that could make your blood boil quicker, it was that, the same condescending tone he always used, “I’ve had this spot for weeks.”

“But it’s mine now, Peña.”

“And mine sucks,” He admits, “this is the only shaded area around the building, it’s fuckin’ hot out, my car—“

“Isn’t my problem!”

He’s never heard you shout before, feeling the frustration radiating from your frame.

It was yours, rightfully so. But, that did change the fact he’s been parking there for weeks now, stubborn as he is. Javier isn’t budging either. 

“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, motioning toward your car beside his. 

“I’m not paying for that one. I’m paying for this one.” It really is that simple, but you’re starting to think he had rocks for a brain, nothing rattling around up there besides catching Escobar and cheap sex he could catch on the regular with a bit of cash.

Yes, you knew—most of those men were one in the same, bachelors with a yearning to get off but not enough game to score it for free.

“No te soporto,” It’s a soft mumble under your breath, something meant for yourself, even if it was aimed at Javier, before looking at him, “fuck this, keep it.” (I cannot stand you)

Javier stares for a while, a moment too long in fact, his eyes lingering on the stretched fabric of your shirt, pulled tight over your chest where your arms cross, quickly traversing their way back up to your face, watching his entire trail of eyesight with annoyance.

“That’s it?” Javier definitely expected more of a fight, but you rolled over and keeled so fast he almost wishes you would’ve fought harder. He’s feeling gracious today though, so extends whatever metaphoric branch he had to give.  

“You clearly don’t give a shit,” He’s leaning against the side of his car’s front hood now, diagonal to you as you take a few steps back, crossed arms moving until your hands met your hips, “but I’m the one running errands for you dumbasses all day, so we’ll see how long this lasts.”

In most cases that would come off as a death threat, but to you, it just meant smuggling sugar into his coffee instead of straight black like he usually enjoyed—just enough to fuck up his morning a little, throw him off kilter and enjoy the look on his face when it turns up in disgust, amongst other things.

“Eres malvada,” Javier comments amusingly, “are you trying to start a war?” (you are evil)

You shrug, “What’s one more to the one we’re already dealing with?”

You find it as a reason to get under his skin, drive him mad. But, Javier has a different reason in mind, luckily he loves a challenge—he wasn’t giving in that easily. 

The office is sticky, the scolding, dry Bogotá heat feeling like you’re sitting in the center of a fire that ignited overnight—and the AC was out, meaning the tiny, measly little fan on your desk had to do.

Somehow, Javier seems unphased aside from the line of sweat on his forehead, shirt unbuttoned enough that you can see the start of his sternum, tanned skin hidden behind the baby blue fabric. His tie was laying on his desk beside his coffee—safe from you, for the time being.

Steve is close behind, not surprising, those two chasing each other’s tails like eager puppies. But, Murphy was sweeter than Pena, that much was clear. 

He wasn’t holding your parking spot hostage.

“Hermosa,” Javier nods, tapping his fingertips against the patchy spot of wood on the front desk, “good morning, I hope?”

Not in the slightest.

Your eyes flick up wordlessly, stapling the stack of papers with more force than necessary before sliding it into his other hand, his fingers moving in time to catch the stack as it slides forward.

“Trouble in paradise?” Steve jokes, smiling as the words leave his mouth. “She looks like she’s ready to gut you.”

“She is,” It’s a confirmation that has Javier’s face turning up in annoyance, “can I do anything else for you? More paperwork, more coffee—“

“Actually—” Javier starts, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Good,” You turn away, picking up the large stack of files to head toward the filing closet, “ve a atrapar a tu el malo.” (go catch your bad guy)

His eyes linger as you walk away, Steve’s muffled voice coming into focus as you fade, rounding a corner as the click of your heels become softer. 

“You managed to piss of the nicest person here,” Steve comments, whistling lowly, “I’m not gonna ask how you fucked that up, because it seems pretty obvious already—“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier asks, throwing his head over his shoulder as he looks at Steve.

“Either bad sex or you’re just being an asshole,” Steve suggests, wiggling two fingers out suggestively, pushing his index down to flip his partner off, “easily both but I’m guessing it’s probably the second one.”

Javier shoved his hand away, forcing the file into Steve’s chest.

“She wants me to give up a parking spot I’ve had since I got here,” He explains, “not happening.”

Steve squints slightly, eyes narrowing on Javier. There was more to the story, but Javier was conveniently leaving that out. 

“I didn’t even know she lived there,” Javier adds, somehow trying to convince himself he’s in the right, “it’s a good fuckin’ spot.”

“Pissin’ her off for it?” Steve shakes his head in disapproval, “Can’t be that good, Javi.”

The week drags on, miserable in the heat and with working piling up by the day, it feels never-ending. 

And somehow, Javier always manages to make it home before you, even when you both leave at the same time.

As frustrated as you are, things get a little easier when you start getting under Javier’s skin.

Steve bothers you for a cup of coffee one morning, insisting that you always make it better than him—it’s just a matter of overloading it with milk and sugar, knowing that Steve likes it sweet even when he doesn’t want to admit it. 

Most of the men drank it black, out of solidarity or whatever—Javier just enjoyed the bitterness. How convenient.

So, his hesitancy when you hand him a cup is warranted.

“You fuck with it?” He asks suspiciously.

“Steve asked for a cup,” You shrugged, pressing it into his hesitant, waiting hand, “I’m just being nice.”

But, one sip from the cup ensures that you weren’t being nice at all as he quickly spits it back into the cup, much to the amusement of you and Steve, who sips happily from his own mug. 

“I lied.” You grin triumphantly, sliding his unfinished paperwork in front of him, “Nos vemos, vecino.” (see you, neighbor)

Steve chuckles under his breath, watching the interaction unfold. When you finally leave, Javier is staring at his desk, cup forgotten.

“Like I said,” Steve repeats, “can’t be that fuckin’ good.”

“Shut up,” Javier replies, chair screeching in protest as he stands, “who fucks with someone’s coffee?”

“A seriously pissed off neighbor, apparently.”

And if looks could kill, Steve would be dead. 

*

And Javi thinks that the coffee incident would annoy him the most, but even more, it’s the blatant disregard of his presence on most instances, holding a complete conversation with Steve in his company, not a single greeting his way.

He still greets you every morning. All the same aside from his occasional switch up of endearment. 

Cariño, Hermosa, Querida when he felt particularly snarky—but just as you hoped it would get under his skin, Vecina slices like a knife. You dared to use it first, but the tone of his is nothing but feigned fondness.

That and when he opts for your name instead, sickeningly sweet as it rolls off his tongue.

Either way, he notices your effort to ignore him.

Taking out the trash and running into him in the hallway? It’s like you walk right through him. 

Running into him at that market down the road from your complex? He’s practically a stranger.

And work? It was harder to ignore him, but you did your damndest to make him feel less than.

It was working great, until it couldn’t.

It’s dark out by the time you see him again that day, covered by the orange of the streetlight overhead and kicking yourself as you stare at the contents under the hood, not having a single clue what you were looking at, what the problem was or what it could be. 

“Staring at it won’t fix anything,” Javier startles you, nearly jumping out of your skin as he approaches, shoulder bumping against his chest at his close proximity ,“woah, easy, vecina. Just me.”

Somehow that was worse.

“Car trouble?” Javier asks.

“Among other things.” You snark back, but your voice doesn’t hold the venom you think it does. “Don’t tell me you know shit about how to fix this.”

“I don’t,” He admits with ease, “heading out?”

You sigh, deep and tired as you finally give up and close the hood, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

“Not anymore,” Javier takes a quick look at your outfit, jeans and a low-cut top that shows off the curve of your breasts, soft skin of your chest and a small amount of your midsection where your shirt pulls up as you shrug your shoulders, “what, Peña? What’s that look for?”

Javier shakes his head, rubbing his thumb along the tide of a spare key, “I’m meeting Murphy for drinks.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, but he is—well, he does know. He’s hoping you might tag along, put an end to this back and forth between each other. He didn’t want to be the first to cave, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see you despise his existence every day.

“Sounds miserable.” You comment, throwing a warm smile for good measure, it’s so fake that even Javi can’t help but feel a little more offended than usual. “Tell Steve I said hi.”

Javier doesn’t get the chance to ask if you want to join before you’re sulking away, riddled with yet another inconvenience.

Javier catches you in the same position the next morning, dressed for work and shoulders slumped as you stare down blankly at the engine.

 “Get in,” He orders, walking beyond your piece of junk and to his car, one hand resting on the hood, other resting on the door handle until you finally acknowledge him, “I can drive you to work.”

“Vete a la mierda,” You groan, “I don’t want your help.” (fuck off)

Javier doesn’t budge, yellow sunglasses perched on his nose, his thumb tapping against the car, “Get in the car.”

And he’s not against standing here until you were both late, but he’s already on the edge of getting his ass chewed out most of the time and he’s done with this—it, whatever game you two were still playing at.

“Think about it,” Javier jokes, “it’s almost like you’ll finally be putting that spot to good use.”

Okay, that might’ve been too much.

“Look, I’ll give you the fuckin’ spot if you stop looking at me like they and get in the damn car,” Not that it mattered now, with that hunk of metal sitting unmoving and useless beside it, "please?”

Javier’s not the type to beg, but the look on your face is soft, resembling defeat, and he wants to help.

*

“Why didn’t you just bring it up with management?” Javier asked, fist tightening around the wheel as he pulled to a stop. "If it bothers you that much."

“You mean Theresa?” You laugh to yourself, eyebrows furrowing in amusement as you cross your arms over your chest, “She’s pushing 80–don’t tell me she could actually intimidate you.”

Javier shrugs, “She’s got her moments.”

“Messing with you was more fun,” You shrug decidedly, “but it lost its momentum when you stopped being bothered by it.” 

“So?”

“I’m stuck with a shitty parking spot, an even shittier neighbor, and now my car doesn’t work, so.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“I don’t mind driving you.”

“You’re missing the point,” He was just as dense as he was attractive and you hated it, “the least you could do is fuckin’ pay me.”

Javier gives you a wild look behind his shades, Jeep lurching forward as he continues the drive.

“For the spot, Javier. If you want it that bad.”

“Oh,” He nods, “Yeah, I can do that.”

That was…easier than you anticipated.

Things improve slightly after that, still giving Javier the cold shoulder on most instances, born out of your own stubbornness. 

But he always greets you with a smile, one that you try to return. Plus, you were in better spirits today now that the building had working air and it wasn’t absolutely miserable trying to get work done.

“Here,” Javi pulls you from the chart on your desk, eyes connecting with the small wad of cash, “for what I owe you and then some.”

And you shouldn’t feel guilty taking the money, but you do. 

He lowers his voice slightly as you pocket the cash, palms pressed against your desk as he leans in, “I need a favor.”

You sigh through your nose, threading your fingers together and resting them between his outstretched arms, challenging him with a steely look in your eyes. 

He slides a small wad of paper he had hidden in his palm toward your hands, “I need those files, can you get them for me?”

You glance at the list of names, looking up at him incredulously, his face not moving an inch. It seemed serious, but it still didn’t justify the fact that he’s absolutely lost his mind.

“I could get fired for taking these out of the building,” You argue in a hushed whisper, “first you want to take my spot and now you want me to risk my job?”

His eyes soften slightly.

And then there’s that word again. 

“Cariño, please?”

“How badly do you need them?”

He gives you another silent look of pleading, the tip of his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he nods to Murphy several feet away, looking just as desperate. If it wasn’t for Steve, you probably would’ve said no.

“You’re lucky I like Steve,” You admit, shoving the paper into the same pocket the money was stashed away in, “and that you’re down the hall from me.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist firmly when your arm resurfaces, posture instantly stiffening at that movement. His eyes are wide, staring through you almost.  

“Thank you.”

And you can see that he means it. 

It’s a strange look you haven’t seen before but it’s real. 

“You owe me, Javi,” Under the context of what, you weren’t sure, “I mean it.”

The softness you add to his name is enough for Javier to realize that whatever anger you held toward him was slowly disappearing.

*

The last thing you’re expecting when you exit the sanctioned filing room is a solid chest to the face, and a surprisingly soft hand gripping your shoulder to steady you.

“Hey, Javi sent me,” Steve says lowly, glancing around the corner to check for an all clear—the place was mostly deserted due to the unexpected raid Javier was leading on a few of Escobar’s men, nothing huge, but enough to need backup, yet somehow Steve got shafted, “he’s caught up in something and my place is on the way.”

“Is he okay?” It feels foreign to ask, but given he’s also in a slightly disturbed state, breathing faster than normal like he’d ran here.

“Yeah, yeah. Peña’s always good. Don’t worry about him.”

“And you?” You inquire, sliding the files behind your bag, keeping them out of view, “Why aren’t you with him? I thought you two were partners.”

“My wife, she’s had this date planned out for weeks,” Steve nods toward the front, asking for you to follow, “Connie, she’d skin me alive if I tried to cancel on her, again.”

“Sounds justified.” You shrug, flashing him a polite smile.

Steve nods knowingly.

“And about Peña—he’s difficult, I know.”

“Understatement of the year, Steve.”

“I’m just trying to say that he’s really involved and sometimes that stress kinda…transfers over outside of work.”

And somehow you find yourself at a stand-off with Steve, talking through the open windows of his car.

“So he’s an asshole, but it’s okay because work is a little hard on him?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Steve scratches at his forehead in search of the right words, hoping they’ll come to him, “I don’t even know why I’m trying to defend him but he’s surrounded by this shit all day, some of us can leave it here—it’s hard even for me some days—“

“Steve,” You bring him back, urging him toward the point, “is this going somewhere?”

“Javi is this job— but you are the one thing I catch him staring at beside our desk and the gun in his drawer. I don’t know, maybe he really does hate you that much, but I’ve known him long enough to realize that if he’s gonna let anyone’s fuck with his day to day, and his coffee, it would be you.”

“If you’re trying to suggest Javi’s in love with me, I’m going to assume you’re insane.”

“No—god, no. I don’t think Peña’s capable of that shit but maybe he’d ease up on being a hard-ass if you didn’t give him as much shit over the parking spot. Also, not sayin’ he’s in the right but is it really that important to you?”

You sling your bag into the passenger seat, following suit as Steve climbed into the car, “At first, yeah. It’s my first time out on my own, dealing with my own shit, and Javi already acts like he’s above it all so seeing that it was him, it set me off.”

Steve shrugs, turning on the ignition. “I think you two have too much in common, honestly. Maybe just…level with him? Have you two ever had a normal conversation outside of work?”

A subtle shake of your head is all Steve needs, then he’s laughing to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“It’s nothing—“

“Steve.”

“It’s just—I assumed you two hooked up and Javi was a bad time because you went from mildly annoyed to out for blood overnight.”

“Doesn’t seem that far-fetched.” You admit, earning an even deeper chuckle out of Steve. 

“See?” Steve boasts, “Don’t give him the time if you don’t think he deserves it, but I’m tired of him sulking around all the time. It’s miserable to look at.”

“And you think I can fix that?”

“Oh, I know it.”

Two hours and a shower later and you find yourself at Javier’s door wondering if it was already too late to try and knock or if you should just stuff the files underneath his door and leave, ignoring that fluttering feeling in your gut that told you to stay. 

But, he’s yanking the door open before you can lift your hand, wondering if he heard you on the other side. He’s half dressed, jeans buttoned around his hips but his chest bare, towel hung over his frame signaling that he, also, had just finished up a shower.

The circles under his eyes were a little darker, the color in his eyes a little dull, and his knuckles looked bruised—whatever he’d been pummeling and knocking away at must’ve packed a punch. 

“Hermosa, hey.” 

Yet somehow he seems relaxed at the sight of you and you offer him the first real smile he’s seen since you met.

“Uh, got the files.” You force them out of your hands and into his, feeling like if you held onto them any longer they would burst into flames. You weren’t sure of the validity or importance of them, but you didn’t want to hold the responsibility any longer. “Everything…okay? Steve said—“

“Yeah. Bad info.” Javier says simply, “Doesn’t really matter.”

You nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, “You know,” and here was your attempt, “when Steve pulled up I joked about how this has to be the first time I’ve seen that parking spot empty since I’ve been here. Too bad my car is a piece of shit and I couldn’t even move it to take it back.”

Javier opens his door wider, bare feet sticking wetly against the wood floor as he moves. He clears his throat, a small chuckle that feels like a giant victory. But, he seems eager—no, antsy, ready to flee.

“Shit, you were going out, weren’t you?” He notices the quick glance you give to his frame, never lingering for too long on one spot. “Bebidas, chicas—that’s how you guys usually celebrate, right?” (drinks, girls)

“Nothing to celebrate,” Javier replies nonchalantly, “they all went home, so.”

“Oh.” 

Javier glances back inside his apartment briefly, wallet and keys resting on the countertop, shirt thrown over the barstool by the island. 

You both speak at the same time, his head turning back when he hears your voice.

“Goodnight, Javi—“

“Did you want to come inside for a minute?”

You pause, watching his hard exterior melt further.

“Um, sure.”

Thus, the deafening click behind you as you step inside, watching as he tossed the files along the island, before disappearing briefly and returning without a towel, still also without a shirt. 

He looks perplexed, glancing over the files briefly.

“Do I wanna know?” You ask curiously, stepping alongside him before wandering a little further, glancing around his space.

It was polished, covered in dark furniture and normal amenities, perfectly plain. It looked half lived in, blanket thrown over the couch and a pillow shoved up against one side. Yet the open door down the hall showed a perfectly made bed. You don’t pry, but Javier can feel the judgment from a mile away. He switches the subject before it arises.

“It’s just work. Do you want something to drink?” He asks casually, sifting through his fridge, “Tento agua, jugo, cerveza…” (I have water, juice, beer)

“Beer is fine.”

Javier slides the beer into your hand a moment later, “So, what did Steve tell you?”

“Huh?” You ask, startled by his straightforwardness.

“I mean how much did he tell you about the, uh—the raid?” Javier implores casually, taking a swig from the bottle. 

“Oh, nothing really. I asked why he wasn’t there and he told me, but I didn’t try to pry.” You tell him honestly, “The less I know the better, right?”

“And here I am pulling you into that mess for the files,” He jokes, “thank you for that, cariño. Seriously.”

You leave out the extensive conversation you had with Steve about the man standing in front of you, and you hear the words haunting you, nagging at the back of your mind like a bad itch. 

You take a long sip of the beer, half dried hair falling over your shoulders as you tip your head back. Javier watches with careful eyes, arms leaning against the island, files pushed further aside. 

And suddenly, he seems normal. 

In fairness, you’ve never seen him in this environment. His home, his safety, but it’s a juxtaposition to the man you see at work everyday, walking past you with a smirk glued to his face.

Maybe it was only ever really directed at you, but there was always that urge to knock him down a peg. But, not here.

Blame it on your softness, your willingness to want to see the best in people, and how Javier was somehow the end all, be all of gorgeous men in Bogota—he sees the switch too.

The first bad decision was taking the job at the DEA office.

The second? Letting Javier Pena get under your skin so easily.

And between you both, there were enough bad decisions to keep you talking for a week.

What was one more?

He says your name, a dangerous word to leave his mouth at a time like this.

“Javi.”

It’s a warning. An opportunity, his last chance to back away before you both did something stupid. He trashes his empty bottle as he makes his way to you, slipping your own from your grip and onto the nearest flat surface, some mantle or shelf, Javier isn’t sure.

“Do you still hate me?”

It feels like the most ridiculous question to ask, but he needs to hear the answer. Because if you did, he’d back off immediately, walk you back to your apartment, and apologize for ruining your life more than he already had.

But, the other part is praying, hoping that you don’t. 

“I don’t know.”

“Did you always know it was me?” He asks softly.

You huff out a short laugh, “What?”

“The car—I mean, I drove it everyday. I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, letting him invade your space, a hand ghosting over your hip, under your shirt carefully, fingertips dancing along your hip.

“You’re not the only guy up there who drives that car, Javi—how was I supposed to know? Are you saying you were doing it purposefully, hoping it bothered me?”

“No,” Javier answers honestly, “but it’s a little fascinating to see you so angry.”

“You should probably elaborate on that unless you feel like seeing it up-close.” You tell him out of pure annoyance, perturbed by the game he was playing.

If he wanted to fuck you, he should just say it.

“You smile all day at those guys, even when they make comments about you in front of your face.” And you’ll hand it to Javier, he’s never been that disrespectful. He appreciates women, and he can be severely pissed off with one, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to trash her in front of anyone else, especially not in front of her. “But, I see it—that little scrunch in between your eyes when they piss you off.”

“It’s my job to be friendly.”

Javier watches the expressive lines between your brow start to form.

Javier shifts you slightly, back pressed to his bare chest as his fingertips settle against your skin, just under the ends of your shirt, and despite the ongoing conversation you can’t help but melt against him. 

“I saw it that day when you were standing by my car,” Javier continues, “es linda.” (it's cute)

“Javier,” It's a sigh of discontent, of impatience, and he feels the twitch in your body as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, feeling like you were seeing him as a completely different person, yet still somehow the same, “we really don’t have to drag this out.”

He hums softly, pressing a slow kiss against the side of your neck, the soft thrum of your heartbeat against his lips as he stays there, lingers. 

“I’m not mad anymore , I’m not upset,” It feels like rambling, but you needed to clear the air, “Just—fuck, I can’t do slow, Javi.”

Slow meant more time to overthink, to feel, and you didn’t want any of that.

“Looks like I didn’t need to leave after all,” Javier laughs against your skin, “tengo a mi chica aquí.” (I have my girl here)

And fuck if you weren’t eager to throw every rule and inhibitions out the window for him.

His bed is just as pristine and untouched as when you entered his apartment, his fingers digging into your thighs firmly, keeping you in place where you were spread out over his lap.

Javier’s thrown off kilter for a moment as you grip his chin, tasting the wide expanse of tanned skin, biting playfully at the sharp edge of his jawline, right by the spot under his ear that has him fighting to stay focus. 

Game recognize game, Javier had really met his match.

“Gatita mala,” He tuts, the warmth of his palms spreading over your back, top bare as his thumbs eventually meet the underside of your breasts, rubbing gently until he sees you keen into the touch, “more?” (bad kitty)

You nod eagerly, his eyes never leaving you, not even as he leans forward, mouth at your breasts until he finally takes the leap and licks, nipple pebbling underneath his tongue, bottom lip dragging against the flesh until he can take you into his mouth fully.

The warmth spreads like a flood, twisting at your insides, begging for something more.

“Javi,” You release on a sigh, fingers drifting through the hair at the back of his head as he hums, a soft noise of acknowledgment, “I need you to fuck me.”

“You sure?” He murmurs, mouthing up the center of your chest, latching onto your neck gently before pulling away, his teeth grazing against your chin as he bites. “Tu quieres esto, bebita? (You want this, baby?)

“I don’t need you to be kind, Javier.” You tell him forthright, staring down at him through your lashes, his hands still rubbing a hot pattern into your skin, whatever remnants of your sleep shorts that were left already pushed high up your legs. “You weren’t trying this hard before.”

“What are you saying then?” He asks, following your lips as you pull back, eying you inquisitively as you find his gaze, pulling him in.

Your eyes darken under the light, the streetlight outside of his window flickering faintly, “We don’t need to act like we’re friends,” You explain, “we’re not.”

There’s a long, lingering moment of silence as your thumb rubs along his bottom lip, soothing the natural pout he always held.

“We want the same thing, right?” You ask softly, feeling his hands settle against your lower back, a soft nudge as he presses you against him, not enough contact to satisfy but it stalls you a moment, watching him calculate a response. 

Everything he feels like he needs to say never comes, only a nod of confirmation, a clear switch in his eyes as you drag yourself down to his level, pushing him even further, deeper into the back of his couch. 

“Good,” You speak to him, lips grazing against his own as you speak, “because getting those files was a pain in the ass and I deserve a lot more than a thank you.”

*

You soon realize that this version of Javier is hard to deny something when he works for it, pulling at the short strands of his hair as he descends down the couch, to the floor, leaving wet kisses along the way, feeling your body quiver as he reaches your inner thigh, face pinching together in conflicting frustration as you shake your head.

“Javi, you don’t need to,” You quickly assure him, yanking his head away gently, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares up at you, big brown eyes fixated on your face, “I’m not—“

“Humor me?” Javier counters, flashing you a tired smile, barely recognizable under this light.

You sigh heavily, mostly to release the tension of your anxiety-ridden nerves, gasping as his tongue meets your clit with no preamble.

It forces out a small laugh, involuntarily, his tongue lapping through your center before pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh, fingers replacing his mouth for a beat. 

“Tan dulce,” Javier comments absently, working you up easily, moving his fingers at an angle that even you couldn’t reach with your own hands, spine curving up as you pressed your palm out flat behind you, the grip in his hair tightening as he welcome the soft sounds you made, rubbing his thumb along your clit in a slow circle, “como el azúcar.” (So sweet, like sugar)

Your response is feeble, a throaty moan that has Javi’s cock straining against his jeans, reaching down to relieve the pressure as he unbuttons them.

“Why deny this?” He asks curiously, crazy enough to try and hold a coherent conversation with you while his face was buried in your cunt. “It’s the best part.”

He spreads you wider then, thick hands coming up to force your thighs over his shoulder, supporting the lower half of your body entirely as he devours, growling against your cunt.

The sound has you fluttering around his tongue and Javier feels it, bookmarking that for later. 

“Fuck me,” You gasp out in a rush when you start to feel the edges of your orgasm creeping up on you, “god, Javi—“

But, there’s something unspoken there as he pulls away, the subtle shake of your legs, not wanting to feel selfish and even a little embarrassed for coming like this, so easy and quick under his touch. Be it experience but he knew what you needed even more than yourself, everywhere to touch, squeeze, linger for just the right amount of time.

“Look at me,” He demands, eyes flicking toward his without question as he slowly pushes a finger inside, filling the loss from earlier, thumb working against your clit until he feels it, “fuck, you like that?”

And as much as you wanted to deny it, he already knew the answer. 

You nod quickly, body feeling feverish as your leaned your weight into your hands, steadily pressed behind you as your hips rock up involuntarily.

“That’s right, hermosa.” Javi encourages softly, almost like a purr as the crest of your orgasm rises, flushing over you in waves as you gasp, reaching your hand forward to dig your fingers into his forearm, silently begging him to slow down. 

Eventually he does, pulling out gingerly but not before slipping the finger past his own lips, covered in the sweetness of you. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but it’s a small gesture that has your heart fluttering in your chest, a pain that aches deep. He does catch your gaze after a moment though, lazily explaining himself.

“What? I don’t lie.” He shrugs, thumb grazing against your bottom lip until you jerk your head away in frustration—coming here for nothing, but somehow twisting yourself up in the sheets on his couch, his solid figure tucked between your legs, and god, he’s not even wearing anything underneath his jeans. He rises up on his knees, denim hiding everything but the short patch of trimmed hair leading to his still, unfortunately clothed cock.

“Get on your knees.” He jerks his chin upwards and you’re moving without question, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he moves behind you, shuffling around as he digs in a drawer beside his couch, shifting his jeans down until he can kick them the rest of the way, settling his hand over your hip in a comforting gesture, if anything, as he rips the foil packet with his teeth, pumping himself languidly.

He situates himself behind you, one knee pressed into the cushion while his other leg is planted against the floor, finding that once again, his hands couldn’t stop exploring your body, admiring every curve with us fingertips as he nudges you down and into the opposite cushion, palm pressed against the flat of your back as he lines himself up, pushing inside in one fluid motion, an audible groan breaking from his chest as he finally satiates his own desperate need for pleasure. 

He enjoys sex this way, prefers it, fulfilling that need to take and consume and fill his partner with pleasure, tell that it was okay to give up control. It's what Javier enjoyed the most, controlling the situation. But, even as he enters you, he feels at a disadvantage.

“Bebita, talk to me.” Javier speaks up from behind you, his gruff, gravely voice cutting through the silence. “Let me hear you.”

You gasp on a sharp thrust of his hips, the wet sound of your slick as it coats him, feeling perfectly stretched by the size of his cock, grip tightening on the cushion in front of you as you feel his hand explore higher, squeezing at the back of your neck to force you deeper into the surface, head turned enough that you catch his expression for a brief moment.

He’s admiring you with a heated, half-lidded gaze as his eyes wander the expanse of your back, settling over the point where you two meet, watching as he sinks into you again and again. But, it’s the grit of his teeth that drives you insane, fucking you with a ferocity that carries so much more than just needing a release. 

“Hablas demasiado, Javi.” You groan, feeling the soft pad of his thumb as it rubs at your jaw, earning a low chuckle in response. “You always talk this much with them?” (you talk too much)

He doesn’t need to pry to understand what you’re referring to—and he could act like it hurts his ego, and maybe it does, but he bites back at you just as quickly.

Your name graces his lips in a curse, a prayer, something akin to heavenly as he grips your hips tight, “You’re not them, bebita.”

It feels like a confession, but for your own sake, you ignore it, nodding blindly at his response.

“Fuck,” He growls, dragging a hand along your body until he settle it in the curve of your shoulder, pulling you back against him until you can’t stifle the sounds anymore, moaning out his name for the first time that night, “otra vez, let me hear it.” (again)

You gasp sharply at the sudden change in position, pulled tight to Javier’s chest in a similar position to earlier when you were standing in his kitchen, ultimately more intimate this way, with his mouthing at the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by his hand, his arm slipping under yours and around the flesh to keep you in place while his mouth sucks at the skin on the opposite side, his name falling from your lips freely as he brings you to a second orgasm with no preamble, a quiet sound leaving you as the high is a little less intense, his fingers rubbing against the small bundle of nerves until you’re begging him to let up.

His breathing is short, hurried as his own orgasm is right there, free arm wrapping around your waist as he hugs you against him, mouthing at whatever parts of you he could reach.

“Gonna cum, bebita,” He warns, tracing a soft line under your breast with his finger until he’s squeezing the mound of it in his hand, “right here, can I?”

If you weren’t so drunk on your own pleasure you would’ve questioned it, but even then you weren’t sure you could deny him. You nod jerkily, feeling him unwind himself from you and guide you around with a steady hand, tapping at your side until he’s got you where he needs, kneeling a little lower, head lolling into his outstretched hand as he supports the weight, rubbing at the soft, tender spot behind your ear as he strokes himself quickly, head thrown back as he comes, moaning brokenly as the feeling overtakes him, spilling carefully onto your chest, your own eyes threaten to shut out of exhaustion but not daring to deny yourself the sight of him, neck outstretched and straining, veins protruding on the side as he swallows hard, gasping as he finally comes back down. 

He feels you move to stand but urges you back down, “Stay,” He tells you softly, “I'll be back.”

And he’s not gone more than a few moments before he’s returning with a small towel, wearing a pair of sleep pants he must’ve grabbed from his room first, taking long strides to meet you as he cleans up the mess quietly, his face a little perplexed as he does so, watching as you move to grab your discarding clothing in the process.

“Any chance this convinced you to give me my spot now?” You joke lightly, catching the grin that spreads across Javi’s face, unconstrained. 

“You wish, cariño.”

The silence settles as you redress yourself, mindful of Javier’s heavy gaze as he ascends back toward the work in his kitchen, giving you the space you needed.

“Same time mañana?” Javier asks suddenly, gaze landing on you as he scratches at his cheek, examining a paper within the stack of folders. (tomorrow?)

And you’re mentally cursing yourself for the small moment of hesitation you have in answering before Javier’s grin is growing again, releasing a short laugh in amusement at your obvious confusion.

“I meant for work,” He clarifies, “do you need a ride?”

“Oh—yeah,” You shrug indifferently, “I guess.”

The stare that Javier holds is mesmerizing, the type that freezes you in place and holds you hostage. 

“Good,” He nods, “—but you know the other offer still stands if you want to.”

“Goodnight, Javi.” You reply with an eye roll, an empty response that holds no hatred.

Javier steps forward in your path, a subtle smirk on his face as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, a gesture that comforts you more than you’re expecting.

“Goodnight, gatita.”

Gatita = kitten

Cariño, Hermosa = both mostly terms of endearment (ie. beautiful, sweetheart)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal characters #javier pena fic #narcos x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

[justalildumpling]

chapter 26: my soulmate

wc: 0.6k

If Jeno was going to be completely honest, he had no fucking clue what he was doing — partially due to acting upon his fight or flight response when you had mentioned the whole girlfriend ordeal. 

It wasn’t like he had never thought about making the two of you official (who was he kidding, he thought about it almost every day). But as a certified simp and part-time samoyed puppy, he wanted everything to be perfect, and if perfect meant standing on an empty beach digging up a pretty pathway and scattering rose petals for the past three hours, he would do it.

It had been around half an hour since he had texted you to come to this very specific beach — which he spent every minute anxiously fiddling with the bouquet of roses in one hand and fixing his wind-swept locks in the other. However, when he spotted your car pull up next to the boardwalk, he realised that he was not prepared for this moment, especially seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you met his gaze.

There was a little cute skip in your step as you hurriedly down the steps and to his position on the beach, your white cocktail dress dancing in the wind and the corners of your lips gradually rising as you got closer. 

Jeno could almost see the wedding arches and bells in the background, almost dropping the bouquet on the sandy surface as his hands instinctively reached out to hold you in some way.

“Jeno, what’s with all this?” You squealed, receiving the roses from his shaky grasp.

It was tranquil in that moment for the boy, with the girl of his dreams inhabiting the most beautiful smile and sharing the sweetest gaze with his little self, like all anxieties had washed away with his eyes crinkling into crescent moons and the words of “Will you accept to be my soulmate Y/N?” tumbling out of his lips without a second thought.

Your mouth parted for a split second, eyes hammering with a sense of shock and delight before a soft look adorned your face, “You finally accepted the soulmate request huh?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Who says we can’t be both twin flames and soulmates?” 

You smiled, placing the bouquet on the sand before enclosing your arms around his neck, “Maybe we can test that theory,” you leaned closer into his ear, whispering the next few words, “I heard that if you kiss me and the world doesn’t blow up, we were made for each other.” 

Jeno could only chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re always full of surprises aren't you?” 

“Well, clearly you liked the suspense so now we’re here aren't we?” 

You scrunched your nose in glee, your giggles tickling his lips before he closed the gap. It almost felt like a scene out of a movie, with the waves crashing into the sand not too far into the distance and the rose petals once scattered neatly onto the path circling their figures from the wind and most importantly you, the way your laughs sounded so melodic in his ears, your perfect smile glistening in the golden sunlight and how he could finally call you his. 

Jeno didn’t vibe with chaos and unpredictability. But weirdly enough, the suspense and wrecking ball of events you had brought into his boring old life he found himself compelled to. And for the first time, he found himself agreeing with Chenle and his weird beliefs of the universe because a part of him began thinking that he had indeed found his soulmate, his other half, his twin flame.

masterlist || previous | next 

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other, so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack

warnings: swearing

note: sorry for the delayed and short updateKAEBFOWWGBW ive been sick for the past week and been stuck in the worst writers block ever😭 but GUYSSSS the finale's next week can u believe it????

taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))) ~ @babyjenono @btssf9nct @baekksore @411star @jenyoonoh @igotkpoops @calumsmut @hs825 @liliansun @raikea10 @loveleejn @luv4jeno @rosabella1009 @ismileeprnc-responder @jenoists @222brainrot @sexygrass @culterycollector @kikookii @minkyuncutie @mrsyixingunicorn10 @tytrackfebreze @sehunniepot @choi-beomgyulvr @jaeminnanaaa17 @multifandomania06 @aerislovjeno @spilled-coffee-cup @artstaeh @tddyhyck @jeongintwt @aerivrs

permanent taglist: ~ @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @polarisjisung @dearlyminhyung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @daincty @deehyuck @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @rum-gone-why @mxnhoeuwu @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @haechansbbg @moonchele

#jeno smau #jeno x reader #nct x reader #kflixnet #bjnet #jeno social media au #nct jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno crack #lee jeno fluff #nct dream smau #nct dream social media au #nct smau #nct social media au #nct dream #nct #nct jeno #jeno imagines #lee jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #lee jeno crack #lee jeno smau #lee jeno scenarios #jeno x you #lee jeno x you #student jeno #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

[uh-oh-its-bird]

Fuck ok, gather 'round it's time for another fic idea spinning off of a crumb from my last post ab time traveling team Ro into founders era:

Summary:

Fact 1; Kakashi is now 3 weeks the last living Hatake.

Fact 2; Tobirama Senju, according to dusty old scrolls Kakashi finds in his father's study, was apparently half Hatake himself.

Lonley and hurting, Kakashi grabs on to this fact with both hands and squeezes it so tight to his aching heart that his hands bleed.

Or, still processing his father's suicide, Konoha's favorite baby genius finds out he's distantly related to history's favorite baby genius and immediatly starts projecting to cope.

Digging through old journals, history books, Kakashi begins to try his own hand at the man's favorite past time; creating jutsu's. It's the both the hardest thing he's ever done and the most satisfying to date.

Ft.

1) Weirdly chill scene with Danzo (fuck that guy but hear me out) where he kinda looks at Kakashi and sees the hint of the shadow of the man who taught him. Not quite there yet, not fully, but crumbs of it. Enough to make him nostalgic, and enough to hand over an old journal that used to belong to Tobirama.

A calculated risk, he tells himself.

An unspoken challenge, both Danzo and Kakashi understand.

He wants to see how far Kakashi can go, finds himself almost eager to see how close he can come to the shadow of the man he seems so determined to chase.

(and if this side project temporarily distracts him for long enough that Orochimaru slips through his fingers, well, it's not like he knows it was this event specifically that caused that plan to fall through)

2) The fact that, both due to time and the Hatake clan's less than stellar reputation during the warring states era, Tobirama's Hatake ancestry got buried. Kakashi finding him on a dusty old family tree has ✨️political implications✨️ for Kakashi specifically. Ones he isn't all too interested in — unless it means he might be able to access things he otherwise wouldn't've.

Also just general fun surprised Pikachu faces from some people as an added bonus.

3) Kakashi becoming even more terrifying than he rightfully should be at that age !! Danzo pretty much handed him a missile and went "lmao good luck" with that journal! He should not have that! He's learning things! He is experimenting! Someone take the missile away from the baby before he learns how to make his own— oh fuck it's too late hes somehow made a nuke instead

4) Orochimaru poking Kakashi with a stick and vice versa. They are making baby genius <--> baby genius eye contact it's mildly concerning, Minato is concerned. Obito is jealous, he wishes the Snake Sannin would poke HIM with a stick

5) Kakashi bites someone. That's it that's the bullet point I just think he should get to bite someone is all.

And more !!! Im ngl I think I like Tobirama just existing in the fic as as an ever present shadow, super influential in just every single chapter but never actually present. But I won't lie if I'm giggling over the thought of Kakashi finding Edo Tensei and going ".... ok but what better way to figure out this new jutsu / seal than to ask the source directly."

Orochimaru would so help he's having too much fun with this to bother experimenting on children for Danzo. Don't talk to him rn he's having fun with corpses!! No not the corpses you asked him to have fun with, the other ones!

#birds fic talk #naruto #kakashi hatake #hatake clan #hatake clan lore #naruto clan lore #warring states period #warring states era #dogteeth kakashi #tobirama senju #senju tobirama #hatake kakashi #kakashi #tobirama #danzo shimura #kid kakashi #hatake tobirama #obito uchiha #minato namikaze #orochimaru #snake sannin

[utilitycaster]

do you really think the reason Imogen doesnt get as much meta as Caleb (who got every little detail discussed with thousands of notes!) is because people are afraid of a reaction, when its so obviously sexism?

The same reason she doesn't get the exact number of notes as Caleb? No. There's multiple reasons. I'm sure some is misogyny. Some is probably audience size for the respective campaigns, and some is simply accumulation over time - a post about Caleb from 2019 has had 5 years to gather notes.

But also. Are you fucking stupid. You literally showed up because of my tags to be kind of a dick in my inbox. I and multiple people who committed the grave sin of *checks notes* interacting with me were sent hate messages for hours on a Saturday night because I hinted in the tags that I kind of liked Fearne and Ashton as a ship while not being terribly into Imogen and Laudna, and some absolutely deranged loser decided this was an appropriate response. I was called out by someone who had made a blog specifically to block me when I responded to a reblog from someone else on a post I had made stating that Gelvaan was almost certainly not homophobic in canon and that treating Imogen's psychic powers as a metaphor for queerness has a lot of really unfortunate implications. And this hasn't even touched on that one person whose entire raison d'etre appears to be harassing every single person who doesn't think Imogen, Laudna, and their relationship is perfect; and who specifically made multiple alts to harass me. Like, the "It's Obviously Misogyny" people are genuinely putting more effort into being a dick to me than in writing meta about Imogen. You might be one of them.

I talk to many of my mutuals, some of whom really like Imogen, and yes, people do decide "you know, this could be interpreted by someone as too critical, and I don't feel like dealing with the heat" and keep that meta to the DMs or don't share it at all.

You know that post that Matt liked on Twitter that people have been, let's not mince words, jacking themselves off about ever since? If you actually try to say something with substance and evidence about how Imogen has Liliana's fear (the fear that meant that when Imogen begged her mother to leave the Vanguard, Liliana turned her own daughter down, claiming to need to stay with other children) or Delilah's love (which made her cruel, ruthless, and ultimately all-but doomed her) or Ludinus's desire for power (led him to commit endless atrocities) but resists these things in her desire to be a good person - and frankly, I think painting her with the same brush as Delilah or Ludinus isn't even true but I would love to dig into her similarities to Liliana - some asshole who smugly reblogs that post every time someone says "not to be controversial I think Imogen sometimes says things that could maybe be hurtful to other people I think" will throw a full temper tantrum and might send them an incoherent anon calling them a little hypocrite.

It's also fascinating because a lot of the tantrum-havers who will defend Imogen of even the most anodyne "perhaps this is not the most positive trait" and who will cite harassment Marisha received 7 years ago as a reason to not breathe a word of criticism about Laudna - and many of these people joined the fandom about 2 years ago if not sooner - will do this at the very people who have been supporting Keyleth since Campaign 1 was still airing. I mean, seniority doesn't mean anything but if you're lecturing people about something you weren't there for and they were? Clown behavior. Oh and a lot of those people doing the lecturing? Don't really like Keyleth very much, because she does things like "be angry" and "support Orym" and "have a measured viewpoint that doesn't match theirs" and "pretty clearly, along with Allura, who they also barely ever talk about, is directing Bells Hells along a specific path of that pesky moon plot because contrary to a weirdly widespread belief this is the moon plot campaign and not the baking cookies in a cottage campaign."

I mean, half these people forget about Fearne much of the time. The only NPCs I see many of them even talk about are the Vanguard generals and occasionally Abbadina when she's convenient for an argument. Not a damn word for Orlana or Birdie or Dancer or Weva or Rashinna, and they mostly treated Deanna, Prism, and Deni$e as nothing more than implements to shove Imogen and Laudna together but man do they have mountains to say about Bor'Dor. Hell, go to the blog of someone who whines about the way people treat Imogen and look through their meta, if they have it, and the vast majority of the time it's about Ashton and Orym and Ludinus and then they spend the rest of the time complaining about how The Big Mean Fandom is So Mean to Girls but they sure don't have much to say either because turns out if you can't say anything even remotely critical of a female character, it's really hard to write anything, and that's assuming they actually care about writing about female characters instead of just being an asshole, which as stated above is, in my mind, in doubt.

If you have ever spent a single second harassing actual living women online because you didn't like their thoughts on a pretend woman you are, at least in this specific scenario, easily the shittier person. Personally I am confident in my feminist bona fides through, you know, real world activism and how I interact with and support women and feminist causes socially, professionally, financially, and politically in my actual life, but yeah even I sometimes say "you know, I have thoughts about this thing regarding Imogen...but I've had a rough week and I don't feel like having one of the fandom tar pits on my ass" so I'll send my thoughts to a few friends and then idk, write about something else. And I'm pretty thick-skinned (this is the other problem with this strategy; you filter out the more measured and kind and sensitive people first and you're left only with people like me). A lot of people have flat-out given up writing about Imogen (or Laudna, much of the time) because they don't feel like dealing with backlash over some really mild statements. And because you send kind of dickish anons I suspect that it's more likely that you might be part of the problem than part of the solution. So no, it's not the only reason, but it's absolutely a significant one. Congratulations. You played yourself.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #cr spoilers

[inficetegodwottery]

A call for aid from Firefox Users

I have absolutely no fucking idea how to solve these problems, and there are asks with no answers all over the internet elsewhere that are years old.

There is a weirdly hostile atmosphere on Reddit's Firefox boards to asking questions about features Firefox doesn't seem to have. And obviously, official support forums are about as helpful as they ever are. Given that I've seen and reblogged countless extremely informative posts about Firefox stuff on Tumblr, I just have to hope one of you guys knows answers to some of these issues.

Because I want to move away from Chrome. I really, really do. It is a constant source of stress and fear at this point. Google is an insanely evil fucking company and I despise them, and admire Firefox's stances on privacy and commitment to user security. But I cannot use a browser that lacks so many of the organizational elements I'm used to using in order to deal with my extreme neurodivergence and inability to process information all at once combined with my tendency towards flitting from one train of thought to another constantly.

Using Firefox (I've tried to switch five times over six or seven years) in the past has been overwhelming and stressful and completely devoid of certain features I could use to control those feelings on browsers like Chrome, Opera, and even Safari.

So if anyone has any solutions or suggestions for the specific issues I describe below, it would be an enormous weight off my shoulders, and help me feel a lot safer than I do now.

I'll admit that my tab fever is insane, and I've regularly racked up 2000+ tabs on Chrome. But I can sleep/unload just about all of those tabs constantly, making it so I can keep my trains of thought completely paused without the slightest impact on my computer's performance while I work on something else, and come right back to them without having to dig through the Bookmark system. And the way I generally keep that insane number of bookmarks organized is with separate windows and TAB GROUPING. Bless tab grouping, the saviour of my sanity. With that feature, I can have a completely organized tab tree with color coding, searchable groups, easily group and ungroup tabs or move them to different windows, and I can manage all of them from the same UI I'm managing ungrouped tabs from.

This is a feature which Firefox appears to fundamentally lack, despite apparently having had it implemented fully at some point.

I will say that I tried several addons before making this post, specifically Simple Tab Groups, which was atrocious, and Panorama View actually looks fantastic, but also.... Firefox has placed a security warning on that one. Great.

So if anyone knows of a hidden browser settings option, an overlooked tab grouping addon, or some other way to implement that feature on Firefox, I would be eternally in your debt. I just do not have the ability to process or work on a browser that I can only have like forty tabs open without losing track of everything I'm doing because they're all on a single ribbon. Or completely overloading my RAM.

On that note, is there any setting to make the browser use less memory? I've had the core process run up to almost a dozen gigs of RAM with only twenty tabs open, and there's absolutely no way it needed all that processing power for four YouTube tabs and a bunch of settings pages.

Lastly, there are a number of times while I was using Firefox that I lost power or the program crashed (and it crashed a LOT) and I lost everything. Every tab, every bit of work I was doing at the time, with no way to recover them. I've had that happen with Chrome too, but WAY less often, and when it recovers all my tabs it does so while PRESERVING MY TAB GROUPS, and it also doesn't load every tab in until I actually move to that tab. Firefox loads every tab it's recovering all at once, which usually completely locks up my computer.

At this point I'm pretty much only using Firefox to watch YouTube videos past the adblock, despite desperately wanting to transfer literally everything over to a browser that I KNOW is the safer and better option. But every time I've tried, the total inability to organize like I used to, losing all my progress and being unable to regain it whatsoever, or just using up four times the amount of resources that my browsing would on another platform has drive me away. I don't want to be driven away. I want to solve this, but I've had to accept that I can't do that alone.

I greatly appreciate any help or advice anyone can give. Even if just only one of these questions gets answered or only one of these problems gets solved, that's a win in my books. And thank you for reading, even if you don't have any of the answers I'm looking for.

#firefox #mozilla firefox #mozilla #browser wars #chrome #browsers #accessibility #browser accessibility

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

oh thank god im so glad you think it could be surrogacy too because i feel like a conspiracy theorist but that woman was for sure wearing a moonbump and everything around the birth is so weirdly shady compared to all other royal children

I wrote up why I lean towards surrogacy a long while ago but I can't find it anymore. I really should be more specific in my tags. If anyone was really that bored, they can dig into it in the archive. I think it would've been February, maybe. February or March.

But the gist of it is that if Meghan had really been pregnant, she'd have done a ton of publicity about either how much worse than Kate she had it or how much better it was, because she's done that in every other aspect of her royalling.

#sussexes