#miraclous pollen

[muggle-born-princess]

Okay, so Thomas and the show argued that Chloé only liked being a superhero for the attention, right?

And while I do believe that it was true since at first, she wanted to please her mother until Ladybug decided to give her another chance,

I believe that deep down, it was more than Chloé wanting attention.

I believe that it was Chloé wanting a true friend. Someone that could help her see the light out the end of the tunnel.

How do I know this?

Look at her reaction when she sees Pollen in "Malekdiator" and "Heroes Day- Part 1."

Also, if you recall, Chloe took pictures of Pollen on Instagram and called her cute, despite not showing up on pictures.

(Can’t find a photo of this. If anyone can find it, please link me to it and I will update it.) 

Bonus! Who remembers at the end of “Queen Wasp” after Chloe is deakumatized, she looks miserable when the bee miraculous is destroyed. She knows Pollen lives in there. She believes that she’s dead now because of her.  

Clearly she regrets using her for selfish desires. 

Then, we finally get to “Miracle Queen” where if you look closely at Chloe, while she does snap at Pollen, it’s more out of angst and pain than legit anger.

If one knows basic psychology, one who snaps at someone who is feeling hurt, stressed, etc..,usually doesn’t mean it. 

And that’s proven at the end when Chloe is expelled and kicked off the team. 

She definitely looking at Pollen and trying not to cry.

Proven by these images after this.

Hell, even Pollen and Marinette look remorseful for what has happened.

In conclusion, while I do believe Chloe wanted to be Queen Bee for attention (in some aspects), I also do believe that she only wanted Pollen because she saw her as her true companion. Someone that saw the good in her and only got to know the real her because unlike Adrien and Sabrina who are only there for her when the plot says so, Pollen was her only true friend. With Adrien; it’s social status and clinginess; with Sabrina; it’s obviously abusive. 

Yes while I do believe that Chloe to an extend did truly care about them both, it wasn’t a real friendship with either one of them because Chloe was never taught what true friendship was until she meant Pollen. 

Without Pollen, Chloe would’ve never experience what it’s like to be a hero with Ladybug.

Without Pollen, Chloe would’ve never learned to be a better person with Ladybug.

Without Pollen, Chloe would’ve never felt like what would it be like to change for the good with Ladybug.

Pollen was Chloe’s key to her redemption. 

#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #pollen #marinette dupain cheng #Queen Wasp #Malekidiator #Heroes' Day-Part 1 #Cataylst #miraculous S2 #Miracle Queen #miraculous s3 #pro chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois deserves better #chloe deserves better #chloe bourgeois deserved better #Chloe deserved better

[sallertiafabrica]

Kwamis, faeries, and other creatures

#Trickster AU #Nooroo #Trixx #Wayzz #Pollen #Fluff #Brocc #Heehaw #Hunni #ml kwamis #French Fae Court #Miracle Court #Ladybug Classic #sketches #Sal Draws

[beezonia]

Dumb idea: Circus!Chloe hides in extra small places in order to spy on people in order to obtain gossip material.

Unfortunately for her everyone got used to her doing this so they keep finding her.

I actually love this because it’s just so on brand for circus!Chloe!

In my head Chloe ends up in the circus because she wants to find friends and gain the confidence to stand on her own two feet without feeling the need to live up to Audrey!

So this actually would happen because she’s a bit scared to communicate with others in case she says the wrong thing!

She’s still the same Chloe we know but her hiding in the smallest places to get gossip is her own little way to get to know everyone

And sooner or later Pollen finds her and probably tells everyone else so in a way Pollen pushes Chloe to get out of her comfort zone!

So yeah not a dumb idea at all!! Thank you anon!!

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug au #circus au #chloe bourgeois #pollen #miracle circus au

[smallblueandloud]

feeling weirdly itchy tonight and i don't know why. last time i was weirdly itchy it was a freak allergic reaction but i have taken a zyrtec and i also have No Idea what i would be reacting to since i finished dinner at 7 pm and haven't eaten anything since or touched anything that i haven't touched a million times before.

my best guess is that either i kept my earrings in too long today (i just took them out, for the record) or i'm somehow reacting to the sweater i put on when i got home -- the sweater i've been wearing around my room for like a week. neither of these seem particularly plausible but i literally don't know what else it could be.

#sb and l rambles #food cw #it is not to the magnitude of the freak allergic reaction from last time cause my face is not swelling #(and even in that case i was totally fine) #like don't worry about me. i am taking the steps i can take and will be able to take more steps if i need to #(and i am very doubtful that i will have to) #i'm just like. baffled. wtf is going on #i know i am allergic to a bunch of things but like #come the fuck on for dinner i had potatoes beef sour cream and lettuce. and two chocolate chip cookies #what in the hell are you reacting to body #probably related: my arm is still reacting a little to the allergy shot i got literally on thursday. it is now monday night #what was in the allergy shot you ask? TREE POLLEN #frankly it is a miracle i can walk around outside without dropping dead if this is how my body reacts to a little bit of birch pollen

[nedjsmlfavs]

One of the things I did in my rewrite was change the miracle box to cut down on character bloat and to let me balance the lore. It meant getting rid of Kwami that I liked, but whose powers didn't really make for a compelling story/good lore. Now that we have polls, I'm very curious to see who would agree with my choices and who would argue that other powers should have been kept.

I'm limited to 10 slots, so I broke this into two posts (other post here) and tried to balance the lists as best I could in terms of Kwami popularity. If this goes over well, I'll do a run off once the polls end. Also, making this made me realize that Nooroo and Duusu don't actually have names for their powers. Like, nothing gets shouted. The power activates THEN something is said.

#ml leak free #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kwamis #miraclous #tikki #duusu #wayzz #longg #fluff #pollen #roaar #stompp #xuppu #kwami

[i-am-a-fish]

me talking to a bee: you are a miracle of nature. you are beautiful. I love you and I appreciate your work

bee: god fukin damn. i love pollen

[captain-joongz]

fanfiction recommendations/my favourite reads in 2023

♤ in pursuit of wedded bliss by @fantasyescapes17

regency au, each members has his own story, but they're interconnected

choi seungcheol

◇ push it down (sooner or later it all comes out) by @dontflailmenow

camboy!seungcheol, ex's best friend!seungcheol, enemies to lovers

♧ down bad (so so bad) by @lovelyhan

idol!seungcheol x pet sitter!reader

☆ always only you by @honeyhotteoks

brother's best friend!seungcheol, friends to lovers

♤ caught in a trap by @cheolism

brother's best friend to lovers au

kim mingyu

☆ a sheep in wolf's clothing by @rubyreduji

virgin!mingyu x experienced reader

♤ creep by @smileysuh

serial killer!ghost!mingyu, touch starved!mingyu, halloween fic

ot8

◇ skz drabble by @leviackermanscleaningbuddy

a/b/o, cnc, primal play

♧ sharing = caring by @cbini

bf!chan sharing you

☆ camcorder by @tasteracha

bf!minho x reader x chan, a little pervy chan

♤ five for five by @bh-archive

chan x hyunjin x hongjoong x san x juyeon x reader

◇ some things are better left unknown by @roseykat

chan x felix x reader, threesome

lee minho

♧ dilf!minho by @cinhomi

dilf!minho x baby sitter!reader, breeding kink, pregnancy talk

bang chan

☆ bad idea by @hyunsvngs

step dad!chan, getting together, infidelity

hwang hyunjin

♤ dressing down by @jl-micasea-fics

best friends to lovers, mutual pining

lee felix

◇ best friend felix by @ddyskz

best friends to lovers, fluffy smut

♧ felix + thigh riding by @straykeedz

☆ cockwarming by @dreaming-medium

coworkers au, secretary!felix, office sex

ot7

♤ shadows we trust by @remedyx

supernatural au, mystical creatures!bts, dark circus au

◇ masked miracles by @remedyx

hybrid!bts, detective!reader

♧ stay alive by @staytinyville

mythical creatures!bts, supernatural au

☆ trouvaille by @spookyserenades

hybrid!bts, witch!reader, supernatural au, some horror themes

♤ eternally theirs by @imnotlauriane

dragon!bts, soulmates au, knights au

◇ the lucky seven by @riphobisbraces

hybrid!bts, princess!human!reader

♤ emerald gem by @sweetlyskz

hybrid!bts, reader has a farm, strangers to lovers

♧ oh, little red by @jincherie

wolf!yoongi x reader x wolf!jimin, red riding hood au

min yoongi

☆ celestial ruin by @remedyx

fallen angel!yoongi x angel!reader, corruption arc

♤ fxck a fxckboy by @yoongifis

fuckboy!yoongi x smartass!reader

kim taehyung

◇ isn't that what brothers do? by @aris-ink

step brother!taehyung, forbidden romance, dub con

♧ black swan by @aris-ink

step dad!taehyung, manipulation, corruption, cheating

☆new flame by @gimmethatagustd

alpha!taehyung x omega!reader, heat sex

jeon jungkook

♤ family secrets by @aris-ink

step brother!jungkook, dry humping

◇ icarus by @aris-ink

step brother!jungkook, risky/sneaky sex

♧ close by @aft3rhrs

step brother!jungkook, forbidden romance

choi soobin

☆ let's play a game by @anyamaris

soobin x reader x yeosang (ateez), friends to lovers, primal play

♤ closed doors by @last-words-ofashootingstar

soobin x reader x hongjoong, idol au, obsessed!soobin

◇ super shy! by @fairyofshampgyu

shy virgin baker!soobin x experienced reader

♧ i <3 nerds by @enha-cafe

nerdy!soobin secretly a sex god au

multiple members

☆ drippin' by @ncteez

'00 line x reader, friends to lovers, birthday orgy

♤ cookie jar by @neopuppy

step brothers!jeno and jaemin x reader, stuck in a dryer au

♧ sos by @neopuppy

a/b/o, sex pollen au, pollen induced heat/rut

lee jeno

☆ shameless by @neopuppy

step son!jeno x step mom!reader, infidelity, very dub con

♤ hand kink by @jaylaxies

roommates au, hand kink

lee mark

◇ i can help by @recklessmark

step dad!mark, corruption, manipulation, infidelity

ATEEZ rec list pt. 1 | pt. 2

#kpop fic recs #seventeen fic recs #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seungcheol fic #seungcheol smut #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt smut #stray kids fic recs #stray kids fic #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #ot8 x reader #poly skz #bts fic recs #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #jungkook fic #jungkook smut

[pursuitseternal]

Masterlist: a collection of Spawn and Ascended Astarion fics, drabbles, and AU’s

🦇 The First Day— climbing on ceilings failure (comedy and smut)

🦇 The Second Day- Batstarion’s first appearance (just comedy)

🦇 The Third Day— Smut + Batstarion (just smut and chin scritches)

🦇 The Fourth Day- Batstarion and self-worshiping Mirror Sex

🦇 The Fifth Day- Bastsarion and Bat!Tav fluff

🦇 The Sixth Day- 🍑 smut one

series link on AO3

Series of scenes from Acts 1 and 2 of Spawn Rogue Astarion x Female Reader.

✨Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…” [the SFW flirty bite one]

✨Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…” [the NSFW sexy fingering one]

✨Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my dear…” [the NSFW sexy daggers one]

✨Part 4: “Let me have that sweet ambrosia, my love…” [the NSFW vampire feeding frenzy, period sex one]

✨Part 5: “All vim and vigor, dearest…” [the NSFW healing trope one]

✨Part 6: “Maybe we should fight more often…” [Lovers Spat and Make Up Sex one]

✨Part 7: “You had better tie me up, darling…” [fuck or die Sex Pollen one]

✨Part 8: “Anything to reassure you, my sweetest…” [jealous tav needs nsfw convincing]

✨Part 9: “Dexterity check first, my sweet” [my homage to his hands, and an excuse to use Sharess’ Caress]

✨Part 10: “To things that warm us!” [drunken toasts and public cockwarming]

✨ Part 11: “Use Your Words” [prompt full au: lovers run]

✨ Part 12: “Decadent” [Valentines Day sex chocolates, semi-public sex]

✨Part 13: “You’ll end up bitten” [the werewolf smut, knotting one]

✨ Part 14: “Don’t hold your breath” [underwater oral hot spring surprise]

✨ Part 15: “Knowledge is a dangerous weapon” [bookworm Tav, Spawn powers, breeding (no babies) kink]

Yuletide in Faerûn Part 1: A Yuletide Miracle (Spawn)

link to fic on AO3

Scenes of Ascended Astarion x Female Reader, realizing that all the power in the world can’t instantly heal all his trauma. It takes love, sex, and making him remember the Vampire Rogue he once was. All chapters are NSFW.

🩸Chapter 1: Welcome Me

🩸Chapter 2: Cleanse Me

🩸Chapter 3: Surprise Me

🩸Chapter 4: Hold Me

🩸Chapter 5: Master Me

🩸 Chapter 6: Warm Me

🩸Chapter 7: Persuade Me

🩸Chapter 8: Scald Me

🩸 Chapter 9: Rescue Me

🩸Chapter 10: Unmask Me

🩸Chapter 11: Seek Me

Yultide in Faerûn Part 2: Wrap Me Up (Ascended) 🎀

link to fic on AO3

🗡️Enemies to Lovers | Astarion x Named Tav

💞🗡️He can’t remember anything, but she does. The betrothed she believed dead, the source of all her centuries of grief and heartache now in the middle of her path after the Nautiloid crash, but something is different about him. Dark. Changed. Something hidden.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10| Chapter 11| Chapter 12

Chapter 13| Chapter 14| Chapter 15

Chapter 16| Chapter 17| Chapter 18

Chapter 19| Chapter 20| Chapter 21

Ascended Astarion x Shadowheart BDSM Dark!Fic with feelings

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 |

Link on Ao3

Lumina is different, newly turned, and she has turned the head of the Master, the Vampire Ascendant. For the first time in 200 years, his beating heart might just feel something again.

CW: Dark fic with a hint of softer AA, Harem of Spawn, No Tav, very NSFW…

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

🔥 “To Make You Swell with Child:” breeding kink with Ascended Astarion

🔥 “More than Just a Little Death:” angst with minimal happy ending, Ascended Dark Lord Astarion x Enemy Tav

🔥 “Virgin Blood:” losing your virginity to Astarion, retelling Act 1 Romance

🔥 “Beg me…” BDSM, NSFW punishment with Ascended Astarion 🥵

🔥 “Your Reward:” Prompt fill— NSFW Dark!Fic, DubCon, angst, and degradation with Ascended Astarion, premise of if Tav left him💧 Also on

🔥 “His”- gift fic, Durge x A!Astarion

🔥“Just a drop:” Astarion’s angst as he watches Tav turn

🔥“Filthy:” prompt fill— Astarion makes sure you’re completely cleaned after battle

🔥“I can be quick:” prompt fill— Astarion x Curvy female reader, body worship, NSFW

🔥Mistrial: Modern Faerûn AU: Justice Ancunín find Tav again after centuries, right in his own courtroom Chapter 1 ⚖️ Chapter 2 ⚖️ ao3 link

Fanart by @marimosalad, @mouldering-casket and @snowfolly

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion smut #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #reader x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion angst #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldursgate3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3

[tragedybunny]

Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear. 

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though. 

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.” 

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.” 

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal. 

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss. 

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.” 

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward. 

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you. 

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip. 

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.” 

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.”  His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier. 

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you. 

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you. 

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch. 

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it. 

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.” 

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.” 

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion. 

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

 @mxxny-lupin  @azu21things @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my wrting

[chronically-ghosted]

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link 

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty. 

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension. 

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees. 

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said – 

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen. 

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him. 

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part. 

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all. 

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine. 

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?” 

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin. 

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.” 

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed. 

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.” 

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?” 

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has. 

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.” 

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.” 

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat. 

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod. 

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places. 

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway. 

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him –  running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night. 

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense. 

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips. 

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win. 

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest. 

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet. 

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest. 

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates. 

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper. 

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you. 

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough. 

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.” 

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this. 

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass. 

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command. 

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you. 

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall. 

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing. 

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need. 

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks. 

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him. 

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?” 

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh. 

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.” 

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!” 

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles. 

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life. 

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.” 

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor. 

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more. 

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.” 

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing. 

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all. 

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in. 

If you just –

“Come for me.” 

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot. 

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck. 

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again. 

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down. 

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely. 

But that is something he is not capable of right now. 

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse. 

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them. 

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days. 

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open. 

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off. 

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over. 

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest. 

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.” 

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission. 

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands. 

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again. 

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you. 

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to. 

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you. 

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.” 

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end. 

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him. 

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips. 

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick. 

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you. 

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,” 

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.” 

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips. 

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb. 

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls. 

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning. 

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs. 

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth. 

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?” 

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.” 

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.” 

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s. 

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted. 

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open. 

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week. 

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you. 

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release. 

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.” 

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking. 

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted. 

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his. 

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken. 

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels. 

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake. 

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away. 

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek. 

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change. 

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs. 

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles. 

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock. 

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.” 

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you. 

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession. 

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?” 

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck. 

“Not at all.” 

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while. 

Noonan is annoyed. 

Murphy is not. 

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.” 

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.” 

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.” 

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix #this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?

[mochinomnoms]

A Floral Inconvenience

You came into Twisted Wonderland with nothing but the clothes on your back, a literally fiery cat, and an immune system not conditioned to handle the foreign antibodies in the air, earth, or water. It was honestly a miracle that you hadn’t caught some sort of incurable disease, probably because most diseases here required magical output to survive, like plants and water. You weren’t immune to your own feelings though, and magical disease and illnesses have a funny way of adapting themselves to their potential host. It was then that you found yourself prepared for springtime hay fever and allergies, after all pollen was pollen no matter where you were at. What was unexpected, and thus not prepared for, was the disease known as hanahaki, or the flower sickness. Long ago, there existed a family of mages that lived in a small mountain village deep within a jungle that was established by a family of mages. The family protected their village with fantastical and magical abilities, each unique and extraordinary as generation from generation grew. One of those mages, the Flower Bride, had the ability to grow a magnificent array of flora with just the wave of her hand! Flor de mayo, jacarandas, figs and vines all made their home with the Flower Bride. She had a heart so full of feelings, love for her home, family, and her beloved, of course, that her very emotions affected how dazzling those blooms were. The Flower Bride then decided that others should be able to demonstrate their love in the same beauteous display as she did: after all, who wouldn’t want their love developing into only the most lovely blooms? As such, hanahaki was born. Some see it was a blessing, a push, an opportunity for one to confront their feelings. It’s a realization that what they’re feeling is indeed true, the type of love that can only be achieved in fairytales. Others saw it as an inconvenience: after all, sometimes it just wasn’t the right time to confess your love, or they’d be coughing up petals mid-speech, kind of annoying honestly. Yet the sickness would continue until they acknowledge their feelings, the love died down, or it became a chronic illness. Officially dubbed hanahaki by researchers in the East, the disease was also referred to as the flower sickness, being twitterpated, and sometimes even the lovesick florae by the general population. The most commonly afflicted persons fit into two categories: the positively, without a doubt, enamored sort, the twitterpated or lovesick sort of folk. Or, they were the kind to bury their feelings deep deep down and just one day die. It wasn’t unique to any singular species either. It had adapted to afflict humans, beastmen, and even merfolk. Why, not even fae were immune despite their natural immunity to magical disease. Really, it shouldn’t have been any surprise that the emotionally stunted students of Night Raven College would be prime targets for their own bout of hanahaki.

An event to christen the creation of my blog! Please feel free to request or use for your own!

Requests Close 10/20/2023

Rules

Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 2000+ words, with a max of 3 characters per request.

Chose up one prompt for each character and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, etc.

No NSFW for this event (on my end at least, everyone else go nuts)

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts

“Why is your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?”

“So, I hear you've been coughing up daisies lately. Got any plans to enter the flower business?”

“You know you have it bad when you start sneezing petals every time your crush walks by. At least it's a colorful allergy!”

“I can't believe you're faking a cough just to get some attention. And you're using fake flowers for the petals? That's commitment!”

“I think the local florist is in love with me. Their shop is making a killing off my Hanahaki. Do you think they'll give me a discount?”

“You've got to stop sending secret admirer bouquets to yourself. The delivery guy is starting to think you have a dozen secret admirers.”

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.”

“I have a steady, loving partner. you on the other hand have a left hand and a sunflower cough.”

“Why'd I have to get a nose full of lilies? I'm allergic, this is so unfair.”

“You think with all the lavender on my head I could make my own syrup out of it?”

“No, I've been practicing my sleight of hand! Watch as I make a bouquet of tulips magically appear—ACK!”

“No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Here, your favorite flower! Hmm? Where'd I get them? Uh, I just found them, around…”

“I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

“Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?”

“I've never heard of a flower sickness, are you talking about seasonal allergies?”

“Look, even if confessing would let me get rid of the poppies, I'd rather not. Maybe I'll just learn how to make poppy seed muffins or something.”

“Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.”

“Dude, are your freckles turning into baby's breath?” “AHH!”

“Aren't lotus flowers really good for your skin? Babeeey, I'm set for life—” “NOT WHEN THEY'RE GROWING OUT OF YOUR EARS!”

“Look, I care for you and want you to get laid, but imagine all the money we'd save on tea if you kept growing chamomile from your head.”

“Blehhhg…” “You know I always knew I'd be holding your hair back as you puked your stomach out at a party, I thought it be from the alcohol though, not flowers.”

“You know, some people pay a lot of money for Hanahaki bouquets, have you considered—OW! It was just a suggestion!”

“I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.”

“Man, sunflowers have got to be the worst to be puking up.” “Nah man, it's roses and their thorns! They scrap up all up your gums, my dentist bill after was ridiculous!”

🌸 a floral inconvenience masterlist 🌸

gardenias & peonies: silver x f!reader – #13

stargazer lilies: sebek zigvolt x f!reader – #5

dahlias; zinnias & cosmos: ruggie bucchi, trey clover, [separate] x gn!reader - #15, #1

teonanácatl mushrooms: jade leech x gn!reader - #18

lavender roses: floyd leech x gn!reader - #14

lavender: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #18

marigold: vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader - #7 & #12

blue hydrangeas: idia shroud x f!reader - #24

baby's breath & red roses: riddle rosehearts x f!reader - #14 & #19 [QUEUED]

amaryllis: lilia vanrouge x gn!reader - #1 [PENDING]

carnations: leona kingscholar x gn!reader - #18 [PENDING]

asters; purple hydrangeas: ace trappola, jamil viper [spearate] x gn!reader - #22, #24 [PENDING]

gerbera daisies: trey clover x gn!reader - #3 [PENDING]

orange poppies & water lilies: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #17 [PENDING]

sunflowers: jack howl x gn!reader - #8 [PENDING]

chrysanthemums: jamil viper x gn! reader - #1 [PENDING]

green roses: malleus draconia x gn!reader - #13 & #14 [PENDING]

pink poppies & cala lilies: jamil viper x gn!reader - #17 & #22 [PENDING]

sunflowers: leona kingscholar x f!reader - #8 [PENDING]

BONUS:

azaleas, cornflowers, & white roses: ace trappola, deuce space [poly] x gn! reader - #6, #3, & #22 [PENDING]

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst prompts #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #a floral inconvenience #writing prompts #hanahaki au #mochi masterlist

[neoarchipelago]

I’m not sure if you’re still doing the sex pollen stories butttt I just read the one for Price (holy shit🔥)and I thought I’d ask for a Graves one🫠

Ah yes... GRAVES. First time writing for him... Damn ... Hope you'll like it...

Philip Graves on Sex Pollen (GN!reader)

Graves would be cocky. Probably would brush aside any worry you threw his way. He'd joke about it, saying he'll have a great night or something. You'd eye him suspiciously, keeping an eye from far away. That man is proud. So when the symptoms start to truly break him, he has to step away from his shadows. You know him. It's been a long time and you know every little manners of this man. You dart behind him.

You walk amongst the dark base hallways until you hear a muffled curse. You slowly peek around the corner just to feel a wave of heat crash over you. The sight of graves, pants and boxers around his thighs as one of his hands holds his shirt up, perfect abs clenching with every stroke of his other hand around his hard member. You feel yourself lick your lips as you watch him pump himself, drops of precum glistening.

You look behind you before finally stepping to him. You watch his eyes widen immediately as you come into view. He should have asked for help. He should have said something. Proud bastard. You drop to your knees in front of him as he lets out a choke of your name.

The salty taste makes you hum as he hissed, throwing his head back. His hands meet your hair, helping you move your warm mouth on his shaft.

Between curses and hisses you can practicality hear the smirk on his face as he mumbles a few words.

"fuck... You just wanted this huh?" He chuckles. "Didn't have to follow me... Could have just asked..." He teased again.

Your tongue circled his tip making him gasp in between words, a silent reminder that right now, you were the one in a position of strength, whether you were the one on your knees or not.

His first release was quick, warm salty at the back of your throat, little 'thanks' and praises falling from his lips.

Eventually, and you don't know by what miracle, you found yourselves in his bed, his hips ramming into you harshly. You were glad you had managed to find some place more private because the pornographic noises from you, him and your pussy made could have fallen in unwanted ears.

"shit... You feel so fucking good... Damn... Should have done this sooner..." He grinned while his cock buried itself faster into your pretty hole.

You could only whine at his taunts, the exhaustion and overwhelming feeling of your previous orgasms making your mind buzz.

"do you think they can hear us?? Fuck... I hope they do..." He teased, his hips faltering.

You threw your head back, another orgasm hitting you harshly as he released himself inside you.

He was more than desperate. It was complicated to keep his strong facade, cocky and proud, he was too lost on you. Lost in the pretty sounds you made and the way your body reacted to him. The way you clenched around his cock perfectly. He'd be embarrassed in the morning, fuck... But right now, he had his face hidden in your neck, kisses and bites muffling moans and begs for you to let him cum inside you again.

If you'd tap out and you'd give him consent to keep fucking you, he would. No hesitation. His large hands on your hips as his eyes wouldn't look away from where the two of you connected. The view only sending him to the edge again.

You'd blink your eyes open, the feeling of his thick cock twitching inside you as he looked down at you with something in between need and appreciation.

In the morning, he'd be gentle for you, in the secrets of his room, soft aftercare. However he'd gloat about you being his now, even though you hadn't even talked about it. Wouldn't deny anything to the shadows talking to each other about strange noises.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #philip graves #graves cod #phillip graves #philip graves smut

[beezonia]

Casual designs for tikki and pollen for the circus au!

Pollen likes outfits on the feminine side, whilst tikki likes to mix and match!

For tikki I knew I wanted to put them in shorts and for pollen I just gave them a simple dress with fluffy cuffs!

Also yes tikki gets a bob style for their hair! I love that style on them!

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb fanart #mlb au #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug au #miracle circus au #miraculous kwamis #ml tikki #ml pollen #tikki #pollen #miraculous fanart #miraculous ladybug fanart

[ironstrange1991]

You Are My Home

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is happy to get home and have you there waiting for him.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: Very lovely p n v sex, basically just fluff.

A/N: Wrote this yesterday afternoon and decided to post it while the sex pollen fic isn't ready yet. Hope you like it.

Stephen used to be a man of exquisite tastes, who wanted to own the best car, impress as many women as possible, draw the most attention to himself at all times. This was Stephen before the accident, then there was Stephen after the accident, the one who lost everything he owned, who stopped looking after himself because he just couldn't make his hands obey him, the one who found purpose in the mystical arts and which ended up being dragged into the infinity war and blipped for five years.

Today Stephen was a third type of man. Less arrogant, more wise, he liked to think. Neither rich nor poor, but a comfortable thing between those two, somewhat eccentric in style for his old self's eyes, but most important of all: Stephen had you now. The woman he met after returning from the blip, with whom he had been together for three years and who had now agreed to live with him permanently in the Sanctum. Stephen was for all intents and purposes married now, although the papers still hadn't been signed and he still hadn't slipped a ring on your finger.

He never thought it could make him so happy. Of course, you made him happy enough just by loving him, but there was something special about knowing that every time he came home you were there to welcome him. It made him feel that everything he fought for, sometimes such abstract concepts as reality, the universe, now had a form and a name. You.

That night when Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum after returning from an extremely long mission, he felt lots of feelings welling up in his chest. Satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment for having succeeded in yet another mission, relief for finally being home and knowing that he could take a shower and give his tired body the much-deserved rest, and a much stronger feeling, one that dominated all the others: gratitude for you being the first thing he saw when he got home.

You laid lazily under a blanket in the sofa of the living room, distracted by whatever it was you were watching. Your face lit only by the brightness that came from the tv once all the lights were off and just for being there, Stephen thought, you made the Sanctum Sanctorum really feel like home.

The loud sound of the tv and the horrendous screams and a horrifying music were enough reasons for you not to notice his presence, which made Stephen smirk to himself and close the portal behind him. He walked slowly towards you, his boots making the floor under his feet squeak and finally you looked up at him with a beautiful smile and promptly sat down crisscrossed on the couch.

"Hey, you're here. I had already given up hope that you would come back today." You said stretching out your hand for him to hold and pulling him closer.

"I confess it took me longer than I expected this time, but in the end you know I always come back to you." He said snapping his fingers and turning on the living room lamps, which made you squint behind the lenses of your glasses. You examined him closely, running your hands down his arms and chest and then letting out a small sigh of relief.

"No injuries this time, a real miracle."

"Sometimes it happens." Stephen chuckled, reaching his hands up to the sides of your glasses and carefully taking them off. He placed them on top of the coffee table. "Now I want a welcome kiss."

With those words, Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew up the stairs as if it knew the two of you deserved a few moments alone after everything Stephen had been through the last few days.

"Hm, I think I want to give you more than just a kiss." You replied letting yourself be pulled to his lips. Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing. He sat up and helped you straddle him and as soon as you settled into his lap you pulled him to your lips again, your hand holding him around the back of his neck, the other running aimlessly down his chest, your hips gridding on him until you managed to get a moan from his lips. Moan that you smothered with your kisses full of saliva, teeth, and desire.

Now this feels like home. Stephen thought.

"I missed you, Stephen." You breathed right under his ear, making his skin tingle and an electrical current run down his spine towards his cock, making him throb beneath you.

"I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Unable to contain the desire he felt for you, Stephen grabbed your hips and forced you down, grinding you on his cock and closing his eyes, lolling his head back and letting you continue with your kisses and nibbles on his lips, chin and neck. It all felt too good to be true. He had won one more mission, he was home and you were there in his lap.

He exhaled deeply cupping your face between his hands. "Let's go upstairs, I need a shower first, I'm all sweaty and dirty."

But you were eager to deny his suggestion, grabbing a handful of his hair in the back of his head and placing your other hand flat on his chest to hold him in place.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, "I like it. It's very masculine."

Stephen couldn't help but giggle, but shortly after he let out a loud moan when you rolled your hips on top of his cock in such a way that he saw stars. After 12 days away from home, he was climbing the walls, begging for some relief and you were more than willing to torture him with all that tease.

"You smell good actually. Makes me horny." You confessed. Stephen loved that about you. You were always so open about everything with him, especially in bed.

"May I?" You asked taking your hands to his belts and glancing at him through your lashes.

He nodded and you were quick to unbuckle all the belts. After years of doing that you could tell you were used to dealing with Stephen's robes, and an instant later you had his cock out of his pants. You pumped him slowly and then stopped for a second just to spit in your hand and bring the saliva to the tip of his cock. You lifted yourself up enough to pull the pajama shorts you were wearing to the side and direct him inside you.

"Fuck" Stephen groaned when you let yourself sink on his length. His head tilting back, eyes closing.

You kissed him passionately, but instead of starting to move you just stood there, still, feeling him pulsing inside you. That was like heaven for you.

When you finally moved, you did it slowly, not necessarily searching for a release, but taking your time, enjoying the feeling of having the man you loved between your legs.

He didn't thrust up, instead he pulled you to his mouth, placing kisses on your lips, on your chin, down to your neck, rubbing his goatee there and smirking at the prickling of your skin. He loved that.

You kept that slow motion pace for what seemed like a long time, neither of you willing to change a thing about it, reveling in that intimacy of making love instead of fucking that you knew was so rare.

When your release came it wasn't like an explosion, but like a flowing river, strong but calm, long but silent. You buried your face in his neck, moaning softly and breathing hard, your body trembling on top of his.

He tightened his grip on your hips, moving you back and forth on his cock, prolonging your climax and you felt his cock pulsing harder inside you, his breathing getting harder. You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his, your eyes locked, but neither of you said anything, not with words at least.

When his release came, he kissed you passionately and your bodies movements stopped completely, you could feel his cock pulsing and spurting his warm cum inside you. It felt right, it felt like home.

Stephen doubted he would ever get used to coming inside you. Not because of the act itself, but because of the sensation, the consummation of a love so great that it went far beyond sex, but that somehow was enshrined in that gesture. He was sure there was something sacred about the way you made him feel when he came on you.

You stayed a few minutes without exchanging a word. You dropped your body weight on top of his and he wrapped his arms around you keeping the two of you connected and the silence never felt more comfortable. Just your soft breath against his chest and his on the top of your head. Outside Stephen could hear the sound of cars passing in the street, but inside the Sanctum the complicit silence prevailed.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 11th-17th 2024

That premiere guys!!!!! Was so good!!!!! I'm so excited to be FINALLY be a part of the fandom while the show is actually airing! 😃 Can't wait to read all the amazing fics that are gonna be spawned from season 7!

Speaking of that, I would like to encourage everyone to use the relevant Ao3 tags when writing fics based on S7 content! Not everyone can watch the episodes as they air, so tags are really essential for people who don't want to get spoiled! (I could even make a separate post about it? a sort-of "how to tag" post?). In case you want to block some tumblr tags, my main tags for S7 are #911 season 7, #911 on abc, or #911 spoilers.

(Posting this one day early cause I don't feel like waiting until tomorrow! Enjoy! 😆)

Complete

i find peace in your smile by goforeddie/@iltrpls (A/B/O AU | 1K | General): They’ve been courting for a few months now. It’s agonizingly slow, but it’s still the best time they’ve ever had. You might think that after six years of walking on eggshells around each other, half a decade of “will-they-won’t-they” they wouldn’t be taking such a slow time with courting, but it's precisely everything that they’ve been through that makes them appreciate things a little better.

Birthday Flowers by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie | 2K | General): OR: Buck gets Eddie flowers for his birthday. 

🔥 if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 45K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

Lime Jell-O by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (S7E01: Abandon 'Ships | 3K | Teen): Eddie Diaz didn't panic. Or, well... Maybe he did. Sometimes. But he was working on it.

take the bed warmed by the body by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): It’s three parts bravado and one part reminder. He thinks about it, sometimes, his first shift at the 118—he doesn’t think either of them quite knew how much they’d meant it when they’d promised to have each other’s backs. He definitely hadn’t known, then, that he’d wake up one day and wonder why Buck isn’t in his bed. Because that’s what’s missing. He has a vague memory of falling asleep with his head resting against Buck’s shoulder, their legs tangled together.

Taken Space by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life (S7E01 Coda | 1K | General): Eddie and Marisol talk about the space that has already been taken.

Feel Like I Landed On The Moon by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Canon Divergent | 1K | General): OR: Eddie is pining for Buck while in Texas.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 98K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

53. A Dream You've Had Before (Explicit) 54. We're Definitely All Sluts Here (Explicit)

if you love someone by chronicallystendan (Pre-Buddie | 1K | General): Buck and Eddie both internally panic when a song comes on the radio that seems to be talking directly to them.

adventures of firehose and eightpack by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Social Media fic | 1,5K | Mature): Or: Eddie stumbles upon Buck's old twitter account.

Two, Three Times in a Row by Leslie_Knope (PWP | 6K | Explicit): “We could’ve gone again.” Eddie snorts. “I’m old. You expect me to get it up twice?” “Yes,” Buck says, like it’s a given, like duh. “I could get you to do it right now.” The entire world pauses, and Eddie actually feels it, the bolt of arousal slinking down his spine all the way to his toes. He wets his lips. “Right now?”

WIP

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 1/2 | 13K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 9/10 | 63K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

~

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[angelltheninth]

Forced proximity with a feral Logan (Wolverine) where both he and the female reader were subjected to sex pollen?

Feral Logan? Sex pollen? Forced proximity? Now you're speaking my language Anon.

Pairing: Logan "Wolverine" Howlett x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, forced proximity, dub-con because of sex pollen, use of sex pollen, growling/snarling, mention of breeding, overstimulation, begging for more, feral!Logan

A/N: Part of me is happy that we're gonna get a Logan in the MCU eventually but part of me is sad because he won't ever be the same.

"A little more darlin', let me see that pretty pussy, full of my cum." Logan's rough hands grab at your hips and impale you hard on his hard cock, the shape of him already familiar to you from the amount of time you've had him inside you in these past few hours. "'Atta girl."

It could have been two hours, or twenty since you got locked in this room, since you began to feel like you were on fire and the only thing that could soothe it was Logan's cock and cum and his hard body against yours. You tried to fight you, both of you did, but masturbation didn't help, it only made things worse, to see each other turned on, so close to each other, you had to walk over there and ride him, ride him until he flipped you over and mounted your ass.

"Not enough. Shit, fuck, I need more, please, please more, Logan!" Your shaky fingers reached between your legs to clumsily rub your clit in fast and hard circles. It was almost painful now from how much you rubbed it raw, from how Logan sucked on it before while you had your pussy in his face and his cock in your mouth. "More cum! Give me more, come on handsome, fuck my pussy!"

"Such a dirty mouth ya got there darlin'. How can any man resist eh?" It was miracle his claws didn't pop out from how high on emotions and lust he was. His cock was getting ready to give you more, just like you wanted, "Gonna fill that pussy up real good for you, make you pregnant with how much I'm gonna shoot inside ya!" Logan's hips snapped into yours with no control, he had no more left in him, only the primal urge to fuck and claim and breed the pretty, needy, willing woman whose pussy he was pounding.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x female reader #xmen x reader #xmen smut #xmen x female reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine imagines #wolverine fanfiction #marvel smut #marvelsmut #mcu smut #avengers smut #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #marvel imagines #avengers x reader #marvel x fem!reader #mcu x female reader #marvel x female reader #x female reader #smut blurb