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lionizingheathen · 1 year

Note

Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)

This is territory i haven't explored, so I apologize if it is not what you are after (All parties are 18+)

DBF!James Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Age gap, Jealousy, Size Kink, Some Degredation, masturbation, oral sex male recieving

Bless Theodore Nott’s money and his want to date you, even if it would never happen… the money, the cars, they were both wonderful reasons to take little trips home to visit your little brother.

"I had a great time with you today, I'd love to see you again sometime." Theo said, and you nodded. You’d missed him, he was such a good friend.

"Absolutely." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand before you straightened up. "I'll see you later." You called over your shoulder, and you waited for him to speed away before you turned toward your house, making a beeline for your door. You didn’t want anyone to see you getting in, this was a quiet visit, you weren’t wanting to get in any conversation-.

"Y/N. I didn't realize you were home from University." You jumped, glancing over to see your neighbor, Mr. Potter, leaning on his lawnmower, sweaty from lawnwork. God, he was so hot… you’d forgotten that, forgotten how hot he’d looked at your father’s pool party… that was the last time you’d truly seen him, you’d left for University the week after.

"Mr. Potter! Hi, yes, I'm home for the weekend, just needed to see-." He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sort of grunt.

"Some boy." He finished, and you sighed, shaking your head. No, going out with him was a chance to spend time with an old friend. It was not the reason why they went home.

"My brother, is what I was actually going to say." You said, and he nodded, looking skeptical as he straightened up, stretching up, drawing attention to his waistline, your eyes being drawn down to his crotch. God, you wanted to ride his cock.

"Hm." He examined his nails, giving you a look. "Certainly seemed like you were here for someone else entirely." Why did he care? This didn’t affect him at all, he’d barely paid you any mind aside from the times that you’d babysat Harry… Granted, he was a bit more reclusive since he lost his wife, so it wasn’t surprising.

"I can't hang out with an old friend from high school?" You asked, and he chuckled, shrugging as he wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. You tried to not stare at his exposed lower stomach, the tight abs, the line of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline... you clenched your thighs and glanced away, trying to cast any thoughts of your father's best friend out of your mind.

"A friend who wanted to fuck you." James snapped, his tone coming out a little bit rough, a little bit dangerous, making a shiver run down your spine. God, if you didn't know any better you'd think that James Potter was jealous... He probably wasn;t, but the bare idea of it was enough to make your knees get weak, thinking about him taking you right and now, making you scream his name and apologize for your attitiude.

"He does not-." He cut you off quickly, frustrating you with the way that he did that with ease, placing his large hand on your shoulder. Like he did it all the time.

"Oh, please. I'm a man, I know when someone wants that. I know it very well." He said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as he walked over to you. You looked up at him, setting your jaw. Yeah, he was hot, but why was he being so fucking cocky about this?

"How would you know? No one's fucked you since your wife passed away." You fired back, and he scoffed, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he took a large step back. Well, that was very telling, you knew you were probably right, but god...

"You have no way of knowing that." He snapped, and you smirked, shrugging your shoulders as you rested your hands on your hips. He was such an open book, it was no surprise you'd figured that out with ease.

"Except for perception. It's clear." You said, and James was silent for a moment before he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this how your father taught you to talk to his friends?" He asked, and you shrugged. Honestly, your father had never really given you any direction on how to talk to his friends because you rarely even thought of talking to them in the first place

"My father didn't ever tell me how to talk to his friends." You said, and he shook his head, grimacing as he took a step back onto his side of the lawn, walking away backwards.

"Stay away from that boy-." You cut him off, feeling frustrated. He didn't control you, he wasn't anything more than a man who was occasionally in your house... unless he was making you cum, he had no control over that, and that was simply a pipe dream.

"I don't have to do a single thing that you say. I'm an adult, I'll hang out with whoever I please. I'll fuck whoever I goddamn please. Goodbye." You walked up to your door, yanking on it. locked. And you knew your keys were on your desk. You shook your head and sighed, resting it against the door. "Shit." You hissed, and a moment later you heard someone walking up behind you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" James asked and you turned around, giving him a small smile as you shook your head. All the frustration was draining from that situation now that you were locked out, now you were just angry at yourself for leaving your keys at home.

"No. I'm locked out and my father is out for the night." You sighed, and James raised his eyebrow, clearly not seeing the problem.

"Can't your brother come to the door?"

"He's at a sleepover tonight, so he's not home either." You explained, and James chewed on his lip for a moment before jerking his head towards his house.

"I have an empty guest room. It's getting late, come inside." James said, and you paused. While he was being nice, you still didn't feel you should come in unless the invitation was only a formality.

"I don't want to put you out-." He waved you off. Okay.

"Y/N. I offered. Please come in." He said, and you nodded, following him across his lawn and into his house.

"God, I haven't been in here for months." You sighed, taking in the house. It looked more or less the same, but it felt different. More like a house and less like a home... Lily had brought it to home status.

"It's a little messy." He said, and you shrugged. There were some empty bottles and a couple of things strwen about, but it wasn't dirty. Just... human.

"It just looks lived in, that's better than looking clincal." You said, and he nodded, sighing as he rested his hands on his hips. He had bags under his eyes, looking more stressed the longer you actually took in his frame.

"That's... thank you." He said, and you nodded. You meant it, it was still comforting even if it wasn't the same.

"Of course."

"Well..." He rubbed the back of the neck, both of you standing awkwardly for a moment. You could kiss him, no one could stop you... but if he didn't want that, that would be bad. "Guest room is down the hall. I'm going to go into my room, the door will be shut, just knock if you need anything." He said, and you nodded.

"Okay." You had nothing to wear to bed... that either meant sleeping naked or sleeping in jeans. "Shit." You whispered, and he paused, turning around to look at you.

"What?" He asked, and you waved him off. Truly it was such a small thing.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." You said, and he let out a chuckle, leaning aganist the wall.

"Well, now I'm more worried than I was before." He said, and you shrugged. No need for any of that.

"I don't have any clothing to sleep in." You said, and he furrowed his brow. Yeah, wasn't that big of a deal, excatly like you'd said.

"Oh, I'm sorry-."

"No, it's okay. I can just... sleep naked. I do it all the time, it's why my dad insisted that I get some curtains-." He cut you off.

"Ahem..." He disappeared into his room for a moment before thrusting a large shirt into your hands, not meeting your eyes. "Borrow this. But give it back." He said, and you smiled, crumpling it in your hands. You'd turned him on, you could tell from the look in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." James grimaced.

"James. You can call me James, it's okay." He insisted, and you nodded. That felt unnatural, but you would still do it... it was only right if he was asking

"James. Right." You paused, listening to the silence of the house. Where was he? "Where's Harry?" You asked, and James gave you a funny look.

"He's gone at school." He said, and you nodded. Right, that weird boarding school... He'd be back at Christmas then and so would you, you'd have to stop by, say hello.

"Right, I keep forgetting about that..."

"Come on, he's only two years younger than you." He said, and you nodded. Yeah, but he was always a kid in your mind, it just never left.

"Feels like he's a child to me..." You picked up the photo on his table, the last one taken before Lily passed. Harry was holding her hand and James was "God, sometimes I forget how bright his eyes are."

"Yeah, he's got her eyes for sure..."

"Does it make you miss her more?" You asked, and he nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"Of course it does. I miss her every moment of every day." James sighed, leaning against the counter. You placed a hand gently on his bicep, resting the urge to squeeze it. So strong.

"She was terrific." You said, and he was quiet for a moment, introspective as he tucked his hands into his pockets, jerking his head toward his room.

"I'm going to turn in for the night, if that's alright." James said, and you nodded. Yeah, you should too... Your dad would probably be freaking out when they got home.

"Of course." You said, and he gave you a small smile as he opened his door, pausing in the doorway.

"I'll see you in the morning, Y/N." He said, and his door was shut a moment later. You wandered down the hallway, looking at the framed photos of James and Lily with Harry before she passed, how happy they looked... you missed having her next door, she'd been a comfort. Inside the guest room you found a bed mostly made, but missing a comforter... maybe it was in the closet?

"Fuck..." You couldn't find the blanket. "Mr. Potter?" You called, but he didn't respond. Okay, so you'd have to go find him... You crept down the hall, knocking quietly on his door before opening it, hearing soft noises from inside.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering-." You paused in the doorway, mouth falling open as you watched James try to cover his lap with a blanket. "Oh god." You gasped as the blanket fell, revealing his cock, the tip glistening. He was even bigger than you expected, thicker too, and you rubbed your thighs together at the thought of taking him all.

"Y/N! Close the door." He insisted, and you still stood there, drinking him in.

"I..."

"Close the door, please." He begged, and you shook your head, kicking the door shut behind you as you stood against it. You were fucking him. Tonight. There was no stopping you.

"Fuck, you're so big, James." You gasped, walking toward him. He was frozen, hand still on his cock, the tip leaking clear precum as you pulled James' shirt over your head, making his mouth drop open. You saw his cock twitch in his hand.

"What?" He asked, and you nodded, walking closer, watching the way that his eyes clung to your chest, chewing on his lip. He looked so fucking good.

"Do you mind if I... take over?" You asked, and his mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, like his body was trying to catch up to his brain. You leaned down and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan against your lips as he pulled you down on the bed. You slid your tongue into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt him grip your ass, grinding you against his cock. So hard. You sat up a moment later, slipping down to your knees in front of him with a large smile. He grunted, tangling his fingers into your hair as he looked down at you through heavily lidded eyes.

"Y/N, you don't have to-." You leaned forward, swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock, moaning around him as you gripped his shaft, jerking your hand up and down. He leaned his head back, gasping before he glanced down at you, looking slightly frantic.

"You taste amazing, James." You sighed, leaning forward again before he could speak, taking him as deep as you could down your throat, gagging as he hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You breathed through your nose, trying hard to ease him deeper. You wanted to die around him.

"Fuck, your mouth is so hot... God, you're taking me so well... You don't have to take it all-." You lifted your head, looking him in the eyes as you ran your hands over his large thighs. You wanted him to ruin you in every sense of the term.

"Make me take it all."

"God, you're such a whore, aren't you? Never knew I had such a good cocksleeve living next door..." He said, his voice sounding gruff, sending shots of electricity right to your clit. God, he was so hot.

"Mmm." You groaned around him, feeling his hand push your head further. He pushed you until you had him all the way down your throat, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you struggled to breathe around him.

"That's it baby, that's it... doing so well." He sighed, and you beamed at the praise, bobbing your head up and down as you worked with his size. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had, stretching the corners of your mouth as you continued to suck him off. You couldn't ignore the throbbing between your thighs anymore so you reached down, spreading your thighs as you rubbed at your clit. You heard him let out a small gasp.

"Touching yourself for me, baby?" You nodded, shivering at the pet name. God this was probably the hottest thing you'd ever done with anyone, and he wasn't even inside you.

"Mhm."

"Why don't you fuck yourself on your fingers, hm? You look pretty fucking desperate... so worked up over sucking my cock... Been a while since I've had someone as eager as you." He sighed, and you moaned around him, letting him fuck into your throat. God, it felt so fucking good to be used by him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck yourself faster, I know you can." He said, and you nodded, fucking your fingers in and out faster as you swirled your tongue around his cock again, making him jump.

"You sound fucking pathetic, Jesus... thank god you forgot your key." He gasped, and you nodded, reaching up to slide your hand up his chest, shivering at the feeling of his skin. He groaned above you, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm getting close... Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groaned, and you trembled, feeling yourself reaching the edge too. God, you wanted to taste him.

"Mmm..."

"I'm gonna cum down your throat, baby. Gonna take it all?" He asked, his voice getting a little more gruff as his hips began snapping up, making you gag around him.

"Mhm." You let go, your thighs trembling around your hand as you tried to focus on taking his cum while working yourself down "Mmph!" You gasped, slumping onto his lap as you continued letting him fuck your throat.

"Oh... Fuck..." He stilled, pushing your head all the way down again, cumming down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow. Good girl." He said as he pulled away, tracing a finger under your lips.

"Fuck, that was so hot... Seriously, Jamie." You sighed, standing up before you let him pull you back down on top of him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." He brought his hand between your thighs, but you winced and batted it away. That'd been intense enough. "Mmm... too sensitive right now. And I know you're tired, old man." You joked, and his mouth dropped open in mock offense.

"You've got such a mouth on you." He looked you up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "God, I really wanted to be able to fuck you tonight..." He sighed, and you nodded. That would've crossed two things off your bucket list.

"Yeah, me too... got a little carried away though, didn't we?" You asked, and he smirked, pulling you down into a lingering kiss.

"Tell you what, you can ride my cock in the morning, I know you're dying to take it." He mumbled.

"Tired already?" You asked, and he shoved you lightly, opening one eye to glare at you.

"Leave me be, I've got work in the morning." James muttered, his voice filling with the sound of sleep. You nodded and sat up, searching for the shirt he'd given you on the floor, pulling it over your head before you stood up, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

"Okay." You whispered, and he caught your arm before you could leave, squinting up at you.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you jerked your head toward the door. To the bed he'd told you to sleep in, obviously.

"Guest room?" You asked, and he grunted, furrowing his brows as he easily yanked you back into bed beside him, wrapping an arm tightly around your body.

"Sleep here. With me." He murmured, and you smiled to yourself, wiggling close against him, feeling the strength of him surrounding you.

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year

Note

Javier Peña req (and Steve as bestie). Y/n is their partner and is feeling extremely burnt out; running on empty, coffee, cigarettes and not much else. She’s barely sleeping or eating and constantly has a tight chest and racing heart. They both know something is up with her but she just shrugs it off until one day, Javi is out on a raid and she reaches her breaking point. Steve manages to get her home but can’t reach Javi until he gets back to the embassy etc. Also, please could you throw in a little Carrillo cause😍

Burned Out (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: I’ve missed Narcos and my DEA boys, so thank you for this prompt, whoever sent this in. I really appreciate it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump recently with writing for this blog, so it’s great to have something to focus on and pour myself in to - hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, reference to depressive / self destructive behaviour, description of a panic attack, mild smut, canon-typical violence, death, reference to drugs / overdosing.

Masterlist

You knew exactly when it started. When you began to feel yourself beginning to sink downwards into the quicksand that was your life.

It was a bad day… well, a worse day, if you were being honest, given that life in general in Bogota was hard and full of bad days that left you feeling numb inside. Whereas you were normally able to banish the darkness by spending time with the friends you had collected since your arrival to the city, not even Javi’s gentle kisses or Steve’s dirty jokes or Connie’s homemade deserts could do the trick.

The day had been bad for many reasons.

One, you’d lost a contact with direct links to Escobar, that you’d spent weeks working on.

Two, you had lost them in a drive-by shooting that had killed not only them but countless civilians too.

Three, some of your asshole colleagues decided to spill coffee all over your files meaning you were forced to work late to re-type them up for a briefing the following morning. Even though you had got it done, you knew you had likely missed some details, the ink far too smudge to even begin to try and understand what had previously been written.

However, that day had only been the start of it. The start of the downwards spiral you found yourself tumbling into.

Sure, the others had noticed there was a change about you. Yet, it wasn’t as if they knew what was causing it or how to fix it.

Javi especially knew what you were like - you were like him after all. Spilling your guts wasn’t your natural reaction to handling things. You kept your emotions bottled up inside of you, cramming more and more in, forcing that lid to remain firmly screwed in place even as the pressure began to build.

And if the lid did threaten to pop off? Well then, you lost yourself in him. In the love that existed between you, and the intimate knowledge you shared of one another. After all, Javi had said it himself, “who needed therapy when you had sex and good whiskey?”

A night of passionate fucking was all it took to take the edge off… to let a little pressure escape, delaying your inevitable eruption… But that was just it; you would erupt. It was inevitable. There was no way on earth you could sustain the relentless routine of long hours spent at work, with coffee doing its best to act as a replacement for your bed.

Hell, you could feel the toll it was taking on you both mentally and physically, from the way your hands shook slightly, to the way your chest felt too tight to breathe sometimes. Then there was the fact your clothes were starting to get baggy, whereas they’d once clung to your frame like they’d been tailored for you.

“Here,” Javi had smiled one afternoon. You could smell the sandwich in his hand before he even set it down on the desk in front of you, accompanied by a packet of chips and a can of your favourite soda. “Grabbed that for you on our way back. Figured you’d forget lunch - again.”

A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the kind gesture. “Thanks, Javi.”

“Anytime, hermosa.” He said it so calmly and easily that you felt your heart skip a beat as you realised how lucky you were to have someone who cared about you so deeply. It was why you made sure to tear a corner off of the sandwich and pop it in your mouth.

The relieved nod Javi granted you told you it was the reaction he’d been waiting for, as he took a step back to let you finish eating and working in peace.

You knew he’d be back to check you’d finished it in a matter of minutes. So, you were quick to chuck the rest of his lunch in the waste paper bin behind you, burying it further under a pile of discarded documents you’d already finished looking through.

It was fine. You’d eat later. Maybe you’d even try and cook dinner for you and Javi… an apology for being so distant lately…

Somehow, despite lacking the gift of prophecy, you knew deep down that that was unlikely to happen. Just as you knew it was unlikely Javi would even make it home tonight. For the last week straight, both he and Steve had been called out on some last minute, late night errands by Carillo - not that you minded all that much.

Not having Javi’s arms to fall into meant you felt less guilty about working late yourself. About only making it back to your empty apartment long enough for a quick shower and a power nap each night.

It was ironic to think of Carillo, though, given that your brief conversations with the Colonel in question had been the closest you’d come to finally releasing some of the hurt and the pain inside of you.

You didn't know what it was about him, but somehow, the Colonel had an ability to draw you out. To make you open up and share things you would never otherwise dream of.

Maybe it was his candour? You’d noticed that about him since you'd started working together; he had a blunt demeanour, saying what he thought regardless of the affect it could have on another person.

Now, it wasn't done with malice, per say, but rather as the result of a man who had the weight of an entire army on his shoulders and an impossible task. He just didn't have the time to bullshit anyone - especially when you both lived in a city full of people all too willing to lie and cheat.

It also came from a weird sense of respect, of seeing people as equals, deserving of the truth just as he expected the same in return. No matter how painful it may be.

Needless to say, it was one of the reasons you'd grown to respect the man - and dare you even say, like.

Still, when he decided to loiter on the other side of your desk, late one night, you felt yourself stiffen, as if suddenly all too aware of every little gesture your body made and what it gave away.

The Colonel missed nothing.

“You look like shit.”

Wow. Don’t beat around the bush.

“Jeez, your wife married a charmer, Colonel,” you scoffed, dragging on your cigarette, sparing him a fleeting glance. “Speaking of, doesn’t she want you back home? Or do you prefer my company that much that you’d rather stand at my desk at 11 o’clock at night?”

“She’s out of the city, visiting her parents,” he rebuffed, clearly not taking the bait as he dropped into the empty seat opposite. In fact, he decided to reach across and steal one of the cigarettes from the packet on your desk, lighting it for himself in a gesture that made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere for now.

“Good for her.”

“Yes, it is. I think time away from this place is good for everyone.”

You could feel the accusation lacing his words, as well as the heat from his continuous stare. “Then why didn’t you go with her? Not enough vacation days?”

He scoffed, a bitter smirk twisting his lips upwards. “You’re funny; I can see why Peña likes you so much. Like calls to like, as they say, even if you try and hide it behind that smile of yours.”

You bit back a laugh. “What can I say? I lucked out in that department and got my Mom’s smile. My sister was not so fortunate. She always had my dad’s features - meaning she looked more often than not like she was sucking on a lemon.”

“This is the sister that died from an overdose, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The anniversary is this week, is it not?”

He asked it so calmly and casually that anyone would have thought he’d asked you what the weather was like outside, or what your favourite record to listen to was.

At least his concern now made sense. It was the kind of detail he would remember, and you were honestly more surprised by the fact it had taken until now for him to bring it up.

He’d probably been itching to ask you about it all day, aware of the date even if your two partners were not. Well, they might have been, but neither had said anything which was your preference if you were being honest. Hence your rapidly cooling demeanour towards your colleague.

“I’m fine, if that’s what you're trying to fish about for, Colonel,” you sighed, staring back down at your desk again in an attempt to dismiss him. “You don't have to worry about me. I’m good. Thanks. So can I get back to work in peace? Or did you have some other question for me?”

Carillo sighed, simply choosing to smoke his cigarette, letting the tension linger along with the steadily growing haze around you both.

He didn't need to say the words aloud; his actions did all the talking for him as he reached over and helped himself to a file off of you desk.

He didn't buy this ‘calm, cool, and collected’ act you were pedalling. Not for a second - something his stare alone gave away, even if he refused to say it. Instead, he chose to read, and work, and smoke along side you so that you would not be alone.

He had his eyes on you... watching and waiting for the moment that your carefully constructed walls came crashing down... the only question was would they crush you in the process?

It was about a month later that the inevitable happened; that you finally hit rock bottom.

It had just been a causal remark that did it, of all things. A casual remark that sent you tipping over the edge.

You had just returned from lunch and hadn’t even sat back down at your desk yet when you noticed that someone was missing.

“Yo, Steve?” you queried, quickly glancing up at the empty seat next to you. “Where did Javi go?”

Now, you couldn't be a hundred percent certain what Steve said next but you knew he’d said something about Carillo, a lead, and a raid ...

“What?”

“I said, Javier went with him,” Steve repeated, staring at you with growing concern. You realised he must have already repeated himself. “What? Why? What is it?”

“Javi went too? He… he’s there? On that raid?”

“Yes, y/n, that’s what I just said - hey! Where you going?”

You didn’t even realise your feet had started moving, not until you heard Steve’s confusion as he yelled after you.

But you didn't stop.

You couldn’t stop, not until you were outside - not until you were far enough from that place that you could actually stop and fucking breathe.

When did it become so hard to breathe?

When had the room become so small?

Why did your mind suddenly feel the need to go to the darkest place possible?

It was just a raid... one of hundreds Javi had gone on since arriving here in the country, just as you had also gone on your fair share. So why was your head suddenly picturing him... lying there... injured, or worse... dead.

The number of bodies you’d stared at, lying in the streets in a macabre tableau that had become all too familiar by now - all part of this fucking job. A job you signed up for, hoping to vanquish the bastards who had taken so much from you and those you loved… yet, every day, it seemed you had failed as more and more innocent people suffered… and to think, that Javi - the man you loved more than anything - who you had neglected terribly to the point you couldn't actually remember the last time you’d woken up next to each other - could be amongst them…

It brought you to your knees.

“Whoah, y/n. Easy. What’s wrong?”

Steve’s voice sounded distant, as if you have been submerged beneath water. Yet, you could tell he was beside you, dropping down onto the kerb before hauling you close. The warmth of his touch was enough to tether you to him, to reality, as everything around you seemed to spin in dizzying circles.

You could feel it as his hands rose, cupping your cheeks, turning your head and trying to get you to look at him.

When you finally did, he could see immediately that your eyes were glassy, like you weren’t really seeing or hearing him.

He knew that look.

“Y/N,” Steve murmured in a soothing voice. “Y/N, look at me. Look at me.”

He paused, waiting until your eyes trained themselves on his face, some of the cloudiness starting to dissipate.

“Good, that’s good. Now breathe. Just breathe,” he instructed, taking a few deep breaths himself to show you how.

It took you a moment or two, but you eventually became fully aware of your surroundings and what your friend was telling you to do.

Following his lead, you took a few shuddering breaths, then a few more. You kept breathing until you could feel the racing of your heart slow and the fear that had felt crippling just moments before begin to ease.

You were exhausted.

Wiping at your face, you tried to banish the tears that had left a salty trail burning down your cheek.

Steve doesn't say anything for a long minute, instead choosing to pull you into his side and light up a cigarette, which he was quick to offer you.

“T... thank you.”

You sat like that for a while... just watching people and cars passing by, smoking like two people on a perfectly ordinary break.

No one bothered to stop and ask you two questions. Hell, no one even shot a glance in your direction, everyone too busy with their own business to stop and give a shit about yours.

So you sat.

And smoked.

And said nothing... not until the cigarette was nothing more than a stub.

Steve was quick to take it from you, before it could burn your fingers. Tossing it aside, it had clearly served its purpose.

He stood and offered you a hand.

His face left no room for debate as he stated calmly, “Come on, I’m taking you home. Now.”

“Come on. A couple more steps, Y/N,” Steve urged, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment.

His hand was warm, firm even, as it pressed against your lower back.

He’d been like this since the moment you’d left the embassy, steering you and hovering over you like he expected you to simply topple over at the slightest breeze.

It was touching, yet irritating all at once - a sentiment you were too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other to even attempt to unpack. You were also just too goddamn tired.

“Here we are.” Steve’s words startled you. “Home sweet home.”

You didn’t remember giving him the keys, but you must have as he opened the door a second later and herded you inside.

There was emotion in your throat - threatening to spill from you. You were holding on by a thread and he knew it. Just as Carillo knew it, and possibly Connie too -

Wait, Connie?

You blinked as you realised that at some point the woman had also entered your home, most likely having been summoned by Steve on the drive home.

You wanted to feel guilty at the thought of her being dragged into your mess, but you were honestly too tired to feel anything other than grateful as she hurried over to you, offering you a cup of what you assumed was tea, as well as two pills.

To help take the edge off, she explained, urging you to take them. Doctor’s orders.

It was impossible to miss the way that they were both staring at each other - sharing anxious glances as you swallowed the tablets and dutifully sipped the tea.

They were worried about you. Hell, you were worried about you, and Javi, and Steve, and everyone else you loved and cared about - that was what had got you in this mess in the first place.

Damn it.

You heard them say as much as you marched yourself to your bedroom, claiming you were going to try and get some rest whilst you waited for news.

If they bought it, you couldn’t tell, but neither protested as you left them.

They simply let you go, allowing you the space and privacy to crawl into your bedroom, bury yourself in the unmade sheets, and lie down for a while. The medication had clearly started to work as you felt heavy... tired...

Lying there, you could hear their voices... faint murmurs drifting down the hall.

You caught only snippets as they tried and failed to keep their voices down, just as your parents had once done when you were just a kid. Still, despite their efforts, you caught enough to know that there was still no word from Javi, or about the raid he went on.

“-called Javi- no reply.”

“Carillo - try again -”

“-worried about her - stressed.”

Eventually, the words began to fade away, replaced instead by your body's sudden need to sleep. It was pointless to fight the drugs now in your system, or the comfort of being wrapped in the bed sheets that still smelled of Javi... not even you were strong enough to fight it as you felt yourself drifting off into sweet oblivion.

"Sweetheart?"

You must have still been dreaming - that was the thought that crossed your mind as you swore you heard Javi's voice.

"Javi?" you moaned, fighting against the grogginess that greeted you as you tried to open your eyes.

Despite the fact it was clearly now dark out, you could easily make out the face in front of you, illuminated from behind by the bedside lamp. The sight was almost angelic - as if some divine being had deigned to answer your prayers and return the love of your life back in to your arms.

“It's ok, I'm here, sweetheart,” Javi purred again, brushing your hair back behind your ear and pulling you close. “I’m right here, ok? In one piece - promise. The raid went off without a hitch. Even snagged ourselves a new asset for you to take a crack at.”

Your eyes shimmered with tears as you quickly burrowed into his chest. You didn't really hear what he was saying, too busy focusing on the fact that he was here to say it at all - here - alive - in your arms.

The reality hit you as you began to let it pour out of you: how relieved you were, how much you loved him. You also grumbled something about fucking telling you when he next decided to run off on a raid without so much as 'goodbye' - else you’d shoot him yourself.

“I’m sorry, carino. I am.”

And you believed him.

"I love you, Javi. So much."

"I love you too," he purred, "and I'm so sorry, I knew you were struggling, but when Steve told me-"

He didn't get to finish whatever the hell he'd been about to say. You didn't let him.

Instead, your lips surged hungrily towards his and as only Javi could, he kissed you back, soft and slow... as if desperate to reassure you through actions alone.

You felt him chuckle into your mouth as you grew impatient, grinding your hips against him in a silent plea for him to fill you. To join you. To bury himself, and the day you'd both had, in a moment of bliss.

It was a special kind of neediness, reserved for just him, and one that was only sated once he had fully joined with you, as one being. Safe. Whole.

Yes, in an ideal world he would have waited until after talking to you to lose himself in such a way. After all, Steve and Connie had filled him in on the troubling turn of events that his absence today had triggered - and he'd be lying if he said the idea didn't scare him shitless, that you had broken down so completely...

He could only thank God that Steve had been there for you - especially when he couldn't be himself.

But he was here now... and you had time to start trying to make sense of this mess. Together. Carillo had assured him of that, informing him in no uncertain terms that you both had the next few days off from work. He didn't want to see either one of you back in the office until you'd begun to sort through the mountain of shit you were buried under.

So, yes. If you wanted to lose yourself for tonight, to use him to forget the world outside for a perfect moment, then he was only too happy to oblige.

He’d wait until the morning to have a proper conversation.

He’d go down and whip you up some breakfast before trying to get you to open up to him about everything that had happened today… about the worries and concerns you’d been keeping locked away inside of you.

Then, after you’d fallen in to pieces in his arms, he could try and start to put you back together again. As a team.

#narcos masterlist #narcos fanfic #narcos imagine #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #steve murphy #connie murphy #colonel carrillo #colonel carillo #ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #pedro pascal

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bullet-prooflove · 8 days

Text

All About You: Dean Archer x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl

Dean doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck in storage closets in the hospital where he works. He leaves that to med students who've seen too many reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. However right here, right now he just can’t help himself because it’s been a few days since he last saw his wife and he’s been needing to blow off a little steam.

Your hands are in his scrubs, bypassing his underwear, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He’s leaking already, moaning into your mouth as your thumb spreads it across the tip of his dick.

Your lips take a detour, kissing a heated trail along his jaw until you find that spot, that deviant space just under the hinge of his jaw that makes him thrust into your hand as he says your name.

“Don’t you dare make me come in my pants...” He mutters, his words cut off as you bite down just a little, making his hips jump.

He feels your smile against his skin before you kiss lower, lips brushing over his neck, his chest, his collarbone before you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his scrubs down along with you.

“That isn’t what I meant...” He tries to chide you but your lips are already enveloping his cock, your tongue teasing over the head causing his breath to hitch.

Christ you feel good, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be loved by you.

His fingers gently pull the hair tie from your hair, allowing it to fall across your features and something just clicks, you’re not the M.E anymore. You’re his wife, the one that he’s barely seen in almost a week.

You take him deeper as his fingers tangle in your hair, his head tipping back against the wall. He won’t last long, not after all this time apart. He can feel that tingle of ecstasy at the base of his spine as your palms come to rest on his hips, pinning them to the wall.

He will never admit it to anyone else but he loves when you force his pleasure, when you coax it out of him. It’s hard for him to get his head out of work, to forget the responsibility that comes with being Head of the E.D. This is the only way to do it sometimes, to remind him he’s Dean, not Doctor Archer.

“Sweetheart.” He warns you as the rapture tears through his synapses like an IED, stealing away every inch of his sanity.

All he can focus on is you in that moment, the hot, tight sensation of your mouth as he spills his release down your throat. He tries to catch his breath as you draw away, your hands lightly guiding his scrubs back up his hips before you tuck him back in.

“You’ve been stressed lately.” You say by way of explanation. “It’s not good for you.”

“You can just say that you missed me .” He says with a knowing look.

“I thought showing you was a better use of our very limited time together.” You tell him as his watch goes off, signifying the end of his break. He sighs as his hands come to rest on your waist drawing you against him. Your perfume floods his nervous system, the sensual scent of rosewater washing through his senses as he breathes you in.

“I wish I could return the favour.” He says regretfully, his fingertips teasing over the elastic of your own scrubs. “Because I really would like to.”

“I know.” You tell him, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “But…”

“Tonight.” He says, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he clasps your hand to his heart. “I’ll grab takeout on the way home, run a bath, I can use that massage oil that you like…”

“That sounds like heaven.” You say and he can tell from the look in your eyes that he’s not the only one that needs a break. The past week has been gruelling for the both of you. He should have checked in more, he thinks, made himself more available.

“Tonight is gonna be all about you.” He promises as his watch goes off again, signalling he’s needed elsewhere. “I’ll make sure if it.”

#dean archer #dean archer x reader #dean archer x you #steven weber #one chicago #chicago med

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sugar-petals · 1 year

Text

sub!𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 💙𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (18+)

⇢ gentle femdom (n.) :: a variant of bdsm emphasizing affectionate play with a pliant sub rather than hard kinks, brat taming, sadism, or hierarchy.

pairing. pleaser!bangchan x femdom!reader

WARNINGS. ⚠️ rated m, soft sub chris, light restraints, studio and car sex, mommy kink, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, frottage, shy chan, vanilla positions, lack of aftercare bc chan sleeps fast 😅, self-esteem issues, food play mention, established relationship

★ wc. 3k

↳ [ // 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. ] a soft hc for for valentine’s 💌 following lee know’s version, more sub!skz worldbuilding! good boy chan agenda going strong here... truth be told, it’s always interesting to write leaders showing their true face. not sure if i’ll make this a complete series due to my standard high word counts; if there’s a member u absolutely want to read about take to the replies/asks, if multiple people chime in for someone i see what i can do! as for now, sub chan enthusiasts enjoy! 💛

read it on ao3 | 💋 masterlist 💋

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fast asleep within a mere five minutes. Like an ice statue frozen for a thousand years. If this guy puts the strain of having sex on top of his already endless to-do list, he’s gonna doze off in Guinness World record time some day. In his vocabulary, what even is aftercare? He’s like don’t worry mate, I’m fine, maybe a warm glass of water, now good nig—zzZ.

When you didn’t know each other so well yet, you planned to run him a nice bath and all, but reality hit with Chan entering the dream land after getting a spanking. So, in the end, aftercare is just handing him a pillow and toweling him down while he’s already in the twilight zone. See you tomorrow! Reducing the craziness of sex doesn’t really make him stay awake, nor do you want him to — any sleep is good sleep for Chan, anyway. If sex exhaustion is his justification for sleep rather than editing another whole damn album, why not. Play with you is his best excuse to nap.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Chan likes his arms and wow-factor shoulders generally, but it’s not limited to them. Some days, he’s way happier with something else (proud of leg day, let’s go). On other days, he doesn’t like anything and tries to ignore that. Every mirror an enemy. The next day, he feels better about something else entirely. Stray Kids going through so many bold outfits and intricate stylings has sort of confused him about how he naturally looks sometimes. Chan is not content with his bare face, but feels better after you pepper it with kisses.

When it comes to you, he’d never say a thing about a preference. You won't be able to tell where Chan’s mind goes the most, and it generally doesn’t hyperfocus on one body part anyway. Does he like legs best, hips, hands, back, your chest? No one knows. All he says is, „I really like your figure“ — and that’s all. Of course he thinks his domme is hot as fuck, in fact, he thinks she fucking slays. He’s just a gentleman about it.

You like his eyebrows and curly bangs a lot. In your eyes, he has a really handsome and memorable face to begin with (that eyeshadow game makes it even better, holy cow). Even classically handsome, even if he doesn’t really believe it. You saying „Damn you look good!“ when he puts on a tight outfit that accentuates his body shape, it really flatters him to the core. You like his sexy face chains and accessories, chokers galore, and virtually any type of harness fitted all across his torso or legs. Chan is a wet BDSM dream come true and he doesn’t even realize it, does he.

c= cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Actually not that into it. His own cum, I mean. Chan usually forgets to rub one out even when he feels a little twitch while working. Too focused. He ignores his libido often. Same idea extends to cumming inside you as far as vanilla is concerned. Chan knows it’s awkward to clean it all out. He’d rather wear protection and release on his own stomach, then quickly get rid of it if he’s not dozing already.

He blushes hearing you talk dirty about semen, but the real thing? Chris isn’t obsessed like some other people would be. It’s a necessary evil to him, and just another thing bodies do. His orgasms tend to underwhelm him or disappoint no matter what he does, he’s not as confident pushing himself to a maximum of pleasure by himself. He depends a lot on you to chase a high sometimes, which makes him feel deficient. You notice that he beats himself up and suggest some more gentle femdom forms of sex that focus more on sensuality and less adrenaline. Works way better for him. Besides modeling harnesses like a pro, Chan is actually a die-hard soft sub.

On the other hand… Duality. Selfless Chan is totally focused on having you completely soaked at his very creative fingertips. Cum play 5000. He’s a musician. And producer. And dancer. And singer. And rapper. Safe to say that fella has rhythm.

And: Don’t worry. He’s not the type to edge and finger you recklessly. Chan isn’t brutal, nor is he punishing. Always the exact opposite. Pleasing, pleasing, pleasing. His submissive tendencies show almost everywhere. The most daring thing he’d do is tease you with a bright smile, which probably makes you wanna bust a nut on the same spot, ain’t it so. You Chan hard stan, you. He constantly asks for feedback and wants your own hands to do it with him so he can learn: That good boy. How that tiny spot of yours can make your whole body feel so electric is quite astounding to him. Getting you off and making you laugh? His favorite downtime.

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Other people probably assume his ultimate kink and darkest fantasy would be something like `Chan being selfish and cruel for once´. Just doing something because he craves it. Or something like topping you for fun, large and in charge, leader mode. Little did they know that Chan’s most secret wish is you finally meeting his parents for an evening of barbecue. Ain’t he typical.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

More than you think, less than you assume. He’s a lovely Libra. The golden middle of everything is true for him. He’s not dared to directly approach any crush he had, but yes, always prompting a shy and nervous response, he’s the one who’s been approached quite a couple times. By a handful of dominants who saw right through him, too, yes. A bit of flirting over some dinner did went down, but only a dozen dates turned into some tentative, makeshift sexual activity at their place. Obviously not the dorm, he’d never do that. He’s not Hwang Hyunjin getting pegged — next to Lee Know, gaming — by every girl in a ten-mile radius.

Chan also received an Inkigayo sandwich and had a genuinely lovely time. It went on for two months until it got a bit awkward. All in good spirits, though. Because seriously. Caring as he is, and always with the other person’s well-being in mind, how could Chan ruin a breakup. If there is a split, the transition period to a new chapter will be seamless, not heartbreaking. A few tears will fall, the chest is heavy, but he’s not gonna engage in a war of roses and lose face. He does have complaints, but he’s no mean guy. Even when he has a reason to accuse an ex, he will swallow it. The shit he’s bottled up. Chan will feel burdened, down for quite some days, but focus on moving on properly when it’s possible.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

Undecided. Doesn’t want your head too far away nor too close. He’s afraid of accidents, hurting your face somehow, he’s a little paranoid. A bit of movement distance is good for soft missionary, it can be bridged by kissing. Chan uses his arms to prop himself up, gyrating so fucking heavenly, and you can grab his ass. All the praise you’ll shower him with. You’ll often be having sex in a back hug, that’s a good one, too. Especially seated, with Chan leaning forward a little to meet your spine with his chest. All you see is legs legs legs twitching under you, damn good view.

Girl on top, however, occupies both of your minds all the time. That’s where you feel at home. Comfortable for both of you, Chan can be more passive, you active. Your bed or couch needs lots of pillows, though, it’s too empty and scary for him otherwise. The floor is off limits, not cozy enough, you agree. You’re a cozy couple. Chan draped over a hard surface on his back, naked, is a sexy as fuck image in your head, but the reality is not snuggly and warm enough.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Total goofball, you love the guy’s sexy time humor. His crinkly eyes ad triangle-shaped dimples (yes they’re literally like that) always alleviate the moment and bridge an awkward silence or pause. Chan has a soft spot for your outrageous jokes, too. Your every word has him almost hanging by a thread so to speak, he’s a very active listener. Dirty talk and conversation absolutely dominate your sex life, silent sexy time is a natural, mutually agreed upon no-go.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean pits, clean everything. He’s pretty economical with it. Adapts to your wishes, puts lots of effort in. If it’s gotta be a hairy situation, the rules are even stricter, even if he sometimes forgets to maintain it, which makes Chan feel terribly sorry. „Won’t happen again! Oh geez.“ Uneven hairs piss him off, he’s the legend of trimming everything in place.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Can’t stay serious and focused for two seconds. Says a cheesy thing as soon as you even blink.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Too busy with his beautiful fingers between your labia to think about himself. As always: Chan gives and gives and gives without ever taking. When you’re driving to the gym and he takes the passenger seat, prepare for masturbation galore — all while he doesn’t touch himself one bit. You reward him with a little improvised frottage with his upright dick crushed against your ass later on the backseat. Both of you in your underwear: Because it’s hotter. Chan comes pretty fast, his cock is so sensitive to being squeezed by you. Turn around while you grind on him because his surprised facial expressions are just glorious. His tight body in his sports clothing feels so damn good, you can do this all day long.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Feeding each other delicious sweets and random food bits. He’s totally enamored with this. You can be silly together, carefree, he can be your cutest little one. Not entirely in an age play sense, more as a casual endearment.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

So, besides the car and bed. His production studio chair is surprisingly not the way to go. Too narrow, moves around too much, spins at every damn movement. Studio couch is more like it. The amount of times you’ve made out on there, the members would so judge him for being thirsty. But you see the practical aspect. Increased support, decently elastic if not a little bouncy, and a comfortable surface that’s easy to clean for him. It’s not like Chan keeps typing and producing with you on his lap at the table. Come on, he focuses on you. When you sit next to him or on him casually to see what he’s working on, sure, he will go on as usual though. But it’s often him who wants to sit on your lap to get pampered, or between your legs non-sexually if he’s too heavy for you. At home, any spot will do, long as it has a pillow fort.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Affection and courtesy. Compared to some other members, say Felix, Chan doesn’t submit to try stuff out and to chase a kinky curiosity. The principle and chivalry counts for him instead. Being a domme pleaser and body worship advocate 5000 is what keeps Chan coming back for more. Stress relief is a side effect, pun intended.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Hard domming you. He has leader energy on stage, but privately, mercurial goofball he is, it just doesn’t suit him. Chan would never make you scream or sob, and he can’t use a whip on your ass either. That image is so strange to both of you. Although he matches the aesthetic of a hard dom when he’s dressed up like one, face chain wolf gang and all, actually doing all this stuff creeps him out. He recoils at the thought of smacking you roughly or doling out a harsh anal punishment. Raw and hateful sex is simply not his schtick. Again, he’s Hyunjin’s opposite on the submission scale: Mister Hwang is very open to being demolished in a crazy hate fuck by any dominant daring enough. That’s where smacking and violently punishing is very welcome. Chan, he prefers a forehead kiss to make him squeal.

Chan would be all shifty on his feed and be confused constantly if he had to dominate in a cold and relentless way. Being a soft dom is all he could muster, which would simply wind up him service subbing in a covert way — no one’s surprised. And the major obstacle is, Chan simply cannot switch off his charm. He just can’t. It’s in his tone of voice all the time. The only exception happens when he reprimands the members for not taking something seriously enough, but well — he doesn’t have to pull that voice on you. You know the stakes of this relationship and meet him with a logical mindset. You take topping him very seriously like a fucking pro, in fact. Chan got nothing on you, he thinks he’d look like an amateur.

If we’re going there at all: Chan can’t stand the whole kink of say, his girl age regressing to her toddler days, diapers and everything. He’d be like what… It’s too much for him, and his whole Stray Kids’ father role doesn’t have to be his entire identity. Chan appreciates a sexual slash romantic partner who is level-headed and talks to him on equal grounds. He doesn’t want someone tugging at his sleeve all the time talking in a baby voice, he prefers more mature flirting and interactions. He’s the one getting shy, his domme is the wise one. So: No infantilizing his girlfriend. They’re called Stray Kids and not Stray Adults, so he already fosters the whole group as a full-time job — back at home, he’s looking for an authority instead.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh shit, here they come. Those beautiful, pinkish, big and juicy lips. They’re wonderful and shapely, just right, so puckered. It’s the ace up his sleeve! You’ll grind the chapstick off of `em at every opportunity. He’ll quickly get fantastic at giving head, the eye contact is always a stunner. The lips are usually outclassing his tongue, though you should never underestimate someone who works a mic for a living.

His consistency… I swear. Completely deprioritizes receiving. He’s clumsy with eating you out in the first month of dating, hence why he wants to improve. Although it irks him that he’s not a natural talent, your comforting words will help him. „Not everyone can be born as Hwang Hyunjin.“ — „So true, bestie. Or Felix, too.“ He embraces his beginner mindset and hey, come on: That he tries so hard is worth ten sex toys, the effort and dedication counts. Like he can suck on a dildo in no time. Not ready for the strap yet, but that’s ok. His progress tends to be astounding, he remembers his mishaps and strengths very well. Nerdy Chan writes down what he should keep in mind, that’s a hell of a man right here.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Nothing subspace-inducing, we’re keeping it midrange speed here. Though, remember this guy is a literal sports student, athlete, multi talent. He can pull off anything you wish for, you just gotta ask. Nevertheless, he’s too sweet to go and say „let’s just fuck like rabbits, 3, 2, 1, go!“ — some other certain members are more fond of that. Lee Know, Hyunjin, Han, to name the holy trinity of dick destruction. They just wanna get wrecked. CBT and everything. Chan loves pleasure and passion more than ending up ruined, his workload does that for him.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yep. Pretty boy likes those. Big fan. Any day. Treats the two of you with cooking afterwards.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sexually? Not at all. Besides a little fun and games (read: flirting and pillow fights), he’s beyond mellow. Bangchan is the last person on earth to demand that you amp up your dominatrix game to do something questionable. As in, to experiment with even more extreme practices, electro play, knife play, sounding, that stuff. Or to put on specific, highly sexualized outfits. Again, that would contradict your coziness at home.

He’s not a fan of pushing his dominant to their limit, or having a stake in their appearance whatsoever. You’re not there for his appetite, because he’s the snack. As is good practice, he coordinates a sexual scene together with you, and can make cute wink-wink suggestions: But they’re literally harmless. Such as, „maybe… tie my hands with a ribbon or something?“, and it’s all in an open-ended question format just like that. It’s up to you to allow it or not.

In other words: Bangchan’s inner power bottom is what? Non-existent. Which differs wildly from some other members. Han would totally beg you to slap the shit out of him just so he can experience a shock of adrenaline. Bratty Felix would tease his domme with his ass until she tames him with pinches, clamps, and squeezing. Chan would never even consider asking to be fucking wrestled. It’s 100% you who suggests kinks that carry more danger, like heavy chains with collars, or using a Sybian on him, although that’s not risky from a pro’s perspective. He takes the backseat and will most definitely not provoke any trouble or unsafe etiquette willingly.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He took ballet classes. All you need to know. Strength and tension and discipline are words not unfamiliar to him. His dick won’t last long, but the rest of his body will: Unless he danced like crazy that day. Which means time for spoiling and caressing him, talking him through, tucking him into bed. No hard domination please.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bondage rope, yes. Red lights was right, he’s a rope bunny. Other particular toys no… with some room for experimenting sometimes. But he’s not a crazy toy collector, one quality vibrating aid to get you off is worth a 100 random items that he’d buys just to buy them. So, no to that. He’s particular and looks for what really fits the two of you. Strap-on experiments are fine, he quite likes to take it on all fours until one of you cramps. You’re not powering through, but that one’s a long and prep-heavy session. Blowing his back out is probably a bad idea, going slow and steady with lots of reassurance works way better.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chan’s ‚explanation voice‘ and constant questions can drag out foreplay for half an hour. By any means: The Chansplaining needs to find it’s due end. You get down to business by just unzipping his damn pants. A call to inspect your sexy sub is the perfect shortcut, admittedly just to see his thick package. „Take your cock out, honey. Let me take a good look at it.“ — instantly flustered Chan is putty in your hands.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

„Yes, mommy!“ — that’s medium loud. Can be more silent, too, but never not super breathy. Drastic spikes in volume, not so much. It’s a constant moaning. Though, I might be understating this, the whole group has a very high benchmark for volume. 80% of Stray Kids are fucking screamers.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Chan talks about how much he loves having sex with you all while he’s fast sleep constantly. Babbling in his dreams is not uncommon, the members seem to be on his mind a lot unsurprisingly, but this one stands out to you.

x = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What he’s got in his sweatpants is like a Monsta X song. I don’t know what else to liken it to. Thing is, he’s not working with a whopping 10 inches. Who the hell carries that. He’s in a comfortable but aesthetically pleasing upper midrange, and really not too awkwardly long at all. It absolutely wouldn’t suit him. Girth and full balls is where it’s at. Also: Big ass alert. Your designated smack target and stress ball. You’re not surprised that Lino acts the way he does given how um cheeky the members are. Chan’s has such a nice curve, fuck.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s not Felix going „Lemme suck your tiddies real quick“ at every opportunity. Chan is more like „Okay, can I…?“ And he always ends up surprised how easily he gets going. It’s nothing when compared to his awkward jack-off sessions at work. You know what he’s capable of with one glance. Chan is a sensualist. Someone so sporty knows how to get their blood pumping. And: He’s channeled a fuck ton of his sexual energy into dance and his ten thousand other physical talents. You know precisely how to train him to get the desired results.

z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

You can use a damn stopwatch. He’s gone, ciao, bye, hasta luego, see you soon. In your arms, looking as angelic as ever. At the end of the day, Chan’s rapid deep sleep is pretty cute. This sub is a little innocent cherub. He’s in good hands with you.

read it on ao3

sub!idols m.list ♡

lee know alphabet version

sub!skz orgasm faces/bondage scenario

sub!hyunjin oneshot | sub!felix oneshot

💕 likes, rbs, comments v much appreciated, let’s talk 💕

#sub!skz #stray kids smut #sub!stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #dom!reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz headcanons #sub!skz x dom!reader #bang chan smut #sub!bang chan #bang chan #skz chan #smut alphabet #smut a-z #long post

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chvnnie · 1 year

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thoughts on chan being a switch? it's rotting me i swear. i can so imagine him being tied up just itching to touch the reader, holding back the urge to completely tear them apart. pls omg he drives me crazy

switch Chan does not get the attention he deserves. because honestly, it’s a mind shattering thought.

SMUT - MINORS DNI

He never considered subbing. Being submissive just isn’t something that interested him; the control he has over every aspect of his life is something he holds so dearly. Just the thought of letting it go makes the man nervous, skin itchy, chest tight.

But you. You made him see the beauty in release, with a comfort that smells like lavender and cotton, tastes like oranges, feels like heaven.

You make it easy to relax.

Lifted on your knees, you straddled Chan, who is secured to your bed with the softest ropes he’s ever felt. Though he’s tugged once or twice, they’re firm. No slack, keeping him exactly where you want him.

Your body is hovering, center above center yet not touching even in the slightest. Fully dressed in contrast to him, cock heavy on his abs. Goosebumps crawling up his skin from the chill of the room, from the excitement bubbling in his belly.

Humming, you run the tip of a cane down his chest. Tracing the ridges of his body with it. It’s only been used once or twice, yet the tiny sparks of terror are felt in his spine. Remembering how it felt, the uniform marks it made — “How are you feeling, Channie?”

He takes a shaky breath before smiling, the cane now close to his leaning tip. “Good, ma’am.”

The title makes your lips quirk up, pretty eyes roaming up to his. “I’m glad.” Your tone reflect it. “What have you done while I was gone?”

“Followed your rules.”

He says it so simply that you look unconvinced. “Sounds like you’re saying that because I want to hear it.” A light swat to his inner thigh — not enough to hurt him, but it does make him twitch in the bindings. “Are you being honest?”

“Always, ma’am.”

You decide to take him at his word. After all, Channie can be such a good boy.

When he wants to be.

“I’m glad you came over.” You say earnestly, placing the cane to the side. “It’s been too long since I got to play with my favorite toy.”

Though you make him feel safe, content in a submissive role, the demeaning nickname sparks annoyance in the back of his head. That’s what he calls you when the roles are switched, twisted into positions that are simply for his pleasure. Chan doesn’t care for how you’ve used it against him.

“I wanted to see you.” He says, trying to ignore the feeling. “Touch you. Taste you—“

“Who said anything about that?” The laugh you give is humiliating, as if it was insane of him to even think about having you like that. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, little boy.”

It’s fun when Chan subs. When he lets you do whatever you want with him, regardless of the twisted things you come up with.

But, it’s even more fun when you challenge him. As his smile falls, yours grows, happy to see him getting so pent up. Knowing that he holds no control, it’s starting to make him itch.

“Why else would you invite me over?” He can’t help the bite in his voice.

Oh, your giggle. Usually the happiest, prettiest sound. One he could listen to for hours on end.

Today, it makes his hands curl into fists.

“To stare at you.” You’re climbing off of him. “Admire you. Sometimes it’s nice just to…look.”

He doesn’t like the way you said that. You pick up your phone, thumbs tapping quickly. Drowning out the man currently at your disposal. Within moments, there’s a knock on your apartment door.

“Oh, I’ll be right back.” You singsong, a little bounce in your step as you head out the room. Before he can even ask, you punch his cheeks between your thumb and index finger. “You’re going to love this, Channie.”

Kiss, and gone. The voices. Soft, whispering so they’re inaudible. Your giggle, the stranger responding in a deep, familiar voice.

No. No, no, no—

The set up of the room suddenly makes sense. The fluffy armchair, usually tucked in the corner. Right at the edge of the bed, positioned perfectly for Chan to see. The way you seem more focused on your phone than usual.

He’s thrashing in the bindings by the time Felix walks in with you, the younger man not even slightly surprised by his predicament.

“Oh, hyung. Excited?” The snide remark makes you laugh, guiding Felix over to the chair.

“He’s always eager—“

“Fucking untie me-“

“And so hard to satisfy.” You say with a sigh, plopping to a seat. “I’m sure you understand. It’s never enough for him.”

Felix hums sadly, giving his friend an almost disappointing look. “How do you ever get any pleasure?”

You smile, twirling your hair with your index finger. “He does have a pretty cock, but you think with how much he fucking talks, he would use his tongue a bit more.”

Chan is livid. It’s all a lie; how many hours has he spent between your legs? Have you spent seated on his face? Sure, he knows it’s all to rile him up. But the frustration comes from the fact that it’s working. He wants to touch you. Needs to touch you. To fucking remind you who exactly is in charge—

“Oh, poor thing.” Felix coos, softly tracing your jaw with the tips of his fingers as he kneels in front of you. “Do you want some help?”

Fuck, he’s so annoyed with the way you pout. Puppy dog eyes. “Please, Lixie?”

It’s agony, watching his younger friend push your skirt up. Seeing that you were wearing nothing the underneath the entire time, head rolling back as Felix eagerly traces your cunt with his tongue. That should be him. He should be touching you.

Yet he’s bound. Stagnant. Forced to watch as the ropes begin to give under his pulls.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #chvnnie thots

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joelalorian · 4 months

Text

Tides of Desire - Chapter Eight: As the Crow Flies

*mood board by the lovely @/janaispunk

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, stolen kisses, meet cute for Tommy, anaphylactic reaction (not Joel or reader), terms of endearment (sweetheart, etc.). Reader is a badass. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used).

Series masterlist

Chapter 8: As the Crow Flies

The return to the yacht was underwhelming. You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t a completely smooth transition, that’s for sure. You really thought Joel would pull another 180 now that you crossed the ultimate line, push you back to an arm’s length away, and shut everything down again. Instead, he was just… normal. It was as disconcerting as it was soothing.

Your moments together reverted to shared smiles across the deck, morning coffee chats, longing glances while you worked, and a quiet goodnight before heading to bed. The only change from ‘before’ was the addition of little, soft kisses stolen when no one else was around. Those were your favorite moments, as short and sporadic as they were with a crew this size. Joel’s kisses left you floating on air every single time. You’d never tire of them.

The two of you were still careful, though. Joel was adamant that you did not show the change in your relationship in front of the crew and there could be no evidence of it in front of charter guests. You agreed, more than happy with the way things were progressing as it was. You were not about to push his boundaries now that he’d given in so much.

The biggest change you’d noticed after the events at the resort was your propensity to drift off into daydreams. It was becoming a bad habit.

“Earth to Brit!” Sarah’s voice startled you, drawing your attention to the young woman standing with her hands on hips, brows pinched. “Can you stop daydreaming about my dad for five freaking minutes and help me with something?”

You were sitting in the crew mess enjoying a quick snack break, completely unaware of the daze you were in as Sarah called out to you several times. Heat rushed up your neck to your soft cheeks and you mumbled a quick apology. Sarah was finding immense joy in teasing you about her dad now and you fought off embarrassment each time. She was smart, though, and never teased you in front of others.

“What do you need help with?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you.” Sarah led the way up to the bridge, your curiosity mounting with each step.

“What are we –” Your words cut off as Sarah shoved you through the door. You spun to see her slamming it shut in your face. “What the bloody hell?” you breathed, baffled at the younger woman’s behavior.

A soft chuckle had you spinning in place again, eyes meeting Joel’s dark eyed gaze. “She’s a bit dramatic sometimes,” he said, his broad form moving closer to you. The bridge was empty but for the two of you and he pulled you to him as he closed the distance. “I needed to see you and Sarah offered to be the messenger.”

Snuggling into Joel’s broad chest, you breathed in the crisp, delicious scent of him. “What did you need to see me about?” Your head tipped back to gaze up at him.

“Something really important,” Joel replied, slipping his glasses off. His right arm held you tight against his chest, your own arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck.

“Oh?” You wracked your brain thinking of what he could possibly need to see you about. This week’s charter guests were due to arrive soon, and you needed to get down to your cabin to change into your whites. “What is it?”

Eyes remaining locked on yours, Joel leant impossibly closer, your bodies practically sharing the same skin at this point. “This,” he murmured, and his lips slotted against yours in the next breath. You weren’t expecting it, a pleased gasp leaving your mouth, and Joel took full advantage, his tongue darting past your open lips to tangle with your own.

Fucking hell, the man could kiss. You would never tire of kissing him. The plumpness of his pouty lips, the taste of him, the way his tongue caressed yours, it was all so overwhelming to the senses. You could stay like that forever, pressed against each other with your fingers weaving through his curly locks, but duty called as your name came over the radio.

“Tommy always did have horrible timing,” Joel grumbled, breaking the kiss. Stepping back, quick hands ran down your sides, straightening your uniform. “You should answer that. The guests will be here soon.”

Flustered, a needy ache in your belly, you responded to Tommy, letting him know you’re on your way to your cabin to change. Stepping forward, you brushed Joel’s lips with yours in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

“You can count on it, sweetheart.” Joel’s lips twitched into a lopsided grin, winking at you as you stepped out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I’m in love.”

The five words were spoken into the air out of nowhere.

Your head snapped toward Tommy in surprise. His voice sounded so serious, but he had to be joking, right? He didn’t seem the type to fall in love, especially at first sight, more of the consummate bachelor playboy type. “With whom?” you inquired as you both brought out the water toys.

It had to be one of the charter guests as he didn’t seem interested in any of the crew. They were a group of women in their mid-thirties who were all friends from law school, now scattered across the country in various high-powered law positions.

“Maria,” Tommy replied dreamily. There was a smile on his face, a glaze in his eyes you’d never seen before. He was a man smitten. “She’s stunning. Did you see that smile? Brighter than the fuckin’ sun, I tell ya. And her skin! So dark and flawless. She’s perfect.”

Yeah, he had it bad. You did not have Tommy Miller falling in love at first sight on your bingo card this season. It made you wonder if that’s how Joel felt about you.

“She’s brilliant, too. She’s a prosecutor at the DA’s office. In Austin, no less. She transferred there last year.”

“What? How do you know all that already?” you asked, surprised. “They just came aboard like five minutes ago.”

His chest puffed up proudly. “She told me,” Tommy explained. His face was lit up with brilliant happiness. “I helped her find the sundeck. Said she liked my accent and asked where I was from. It just spiraled from there. Can you believe that?”

You smiled at the happy coincidence. The Miller brothers were having a great season in the romance department, it appeared. “Are you going to ask her out?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. Not ‘til the end of the charter though. I don’t need Joel up my ass about impropriety and whatnot.” After a beat, he glanced at you with a broad grin. “Actually, speaking of impropriety, maybe you could keep him distracted for me so I can get to know Maria more. You know how he is about the crew mixing with guests.”

“Oh, hell no, I am not getting in the middle of you two.” You laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “It took me more than half the season to get him to kiss me, you must pay your dues, mate. Or just sneak around like the rest of us do.”

Tommy laughed raucously. You loved seeing him like this, all that happy, boyish energy bubbling over the surface. It made working with him so much fun. The pair of you continued chatting as you worked, though most of the conversation revolved around his dogged teasing you about Joel.

“I’m just glad the old man still got it!” he declared when you assured him that Joel did not, in fact, ‘blow his wad’ in the first two minutes.

“Indeed, he does.” Your mind flashed back to that night, your bodies tangled up in the sheets and each other, round after round of mind-blowing sex and equally intimate conversations. Yet the best part of the entire thing was waking up in his arms feeling cared for and wanted. It was something you hadn’t experienced in a very long time, and you weren’t sure if Joel even realized how much that meant to you.

Tommy watched your eyes glaze over and smirked. He knew his brother had it bad for you and you just confirmed for him that you felt the same way about his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first day of the charter was mellow, the group of women lawyers preferring to relax and enjoy the decadent food and sunbathe on the sun deck rather than go crazy with activities. The second day they wanted to do something adventurous, and Sarah booked them a shark dive. Two of the deck hands needed to accompany them and all four of you wanted in.

“Well, we can’t all go. How about we play rock, paper, scissors?” Tommy suggested. He could have pulled rank and picked someone – he really wanted to show off for Maria, after all – but he was a gentleman at heart and wanted to make it fair. You laughed at the suggestion, but readily agreed.

The first round, Jake lost to your rock. Next Ellie lost to Tommy’s scissors.

“Come the fuck on, man!” Ellie complained. “I never get to do the fun shit.”

“What are you talking about? You got to do all the ‘fun shit’ last season; you spoiled brat. Let someone else have a chance this season,” Tommy reasoned.

“That doesn’t count, it was last season!” The pair of them went back and forth for a while and Jake shuffled closer to your side.

“Are they always like this?” he asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear. A chill ran down your back, but it wasn’t a pleasant one and you took a subtle step back.

“Always. They’ve known each other for a few years and argue like brother and sister.” Your focus remained on Tommy and Ellie as they argued, but you could feel the heat of Jake’s ice blue eyes on you.

“I understand her frustration, though. I was kinda hoping it would’ve been me and you going on this trip.”

Jake’s admission made you sigh. He certainly was tenacious and did not pick up on subtle hints. He was clearly waiting for an acknowledgement, but you had no idea what to say. You needed to let him down easy without affecting the dynamic of the team. Best to just be honest… or at least as honest as you could be given the situation.

“Listen mate, I’m flattered, really, but I’m with someone. Just wanted to put that out there in case you were hoping we could be something.” It was awkward and you watched his expression carefully, waiting for the change. Your experience taught you that a lot of men didn’t take rejection well.

Jake merely shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his chiseled features. “Tommy warned me that would be your response to any advances. I had to shoot my shot though, yeah?”

Relieved at his response, you nodded with a laugh. “Don’t know until you try?”

“Exactly!” Jake grinned, bumping your shoulder. “Friends then?”

“Yeah mate,” you confirmed. The vibe changed at once, morphing into playful camaraderie as the awkwardness washed away. This was the way the team was meant to be, you thought, just people working together and having fun in this exciting environment. The pair of you tuned back in just in time for Tommy end the argument with Ellie.

“Finally, it’s settled. Brit and I are going on the shark dive and you two will stay back. You can take a break, have a swim or whatever, but make sure you’re available if the captain needs anything,” Tommy instructed. “Let’s get changed, Brit. They’re picking us all up by tender in thirty minutes.”

Tommy led the way down to the crew deck and you changed, quickly freshening up in the bathroom. You’d been diving a bunch but never on a dedicated shark dive. It sounded exhilarating and you hoped to actually see some sharks on the adventure. Just not any really big ones!

Twisting your hair into two braids an adjusting your rash guard one last time, you opened the cabin door to walk out, and face planted into Joel’s chest. “Ah, fuck!” you exclaimed, rubbing your tender nose as your eyes widened. “W-what are you doing here, Joel?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he replied, voice gravelly as his hands grasped your shoulders to steady you, strong fingers flexing into your skin. “I, uh, just wanted to tell you to have fun and be careful. I told Tommy he’s fired if anything happens to you.”

A giggle burst from your chest, surprising you both. “You can’t fire your own brother, Joel! I’ll be fine but thank you for caring about me.”

“I can if he let’s my girl get hurt,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “And I care about you a lot.”

“Your girl, huh?” you ask, voice equally low and soft, barely dancing through the air to his ears. The grin spreading across your lips was involuntary, yet wholeheartedly welcome. Joel merely nodded, a gleam shining in those dark eyes as they gazed down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You talked about everything under the sun at the resort, yet this was one topic that neither of you brought up – putting a label on what you were. It was early days, you figured, and decided not to push it. But your heart skipped a beat at hearing him call you his girl and the anxiety in your belly you didn’t even realize was there vanished. You needed that label after all.

Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he ducked into your cabin and placed a soft, sensuous kiss on your lips. “My girl.” Your lips tingled long after he slipped away.

“Let’s roll, Brit!” Tommy called, running up the stairs to the top decks with the excitement of a young child on Christmas morning. Chuckling to yourself, you followed. The guests were waiting on the aft deck, chatting animatedly. You watched as Maria gravitated toward Tommy – they were like magnets, those two, and it warmed your heart.

The afternoon was a blast. The tender picked the group up right on time, taking you fifty miles west of Puerto Rico proper to the rocky coast of Mona Island. A few of the women, including Maria and the primary guest, were SCUBA certified and they geared up for the dive with Tommy. The rest of the women were given snorkeling gear and you guided them through shallower turquoise waters to see a variety of coral fish, sea turtles, and reef sharks.

After a couple of hours, the guests were pleased to have seen several sharks on their dive including a hammerhead and were ready to head back to the yacht. Tommy flirted outrageously with Maria the entire trip, causing the beautiful woman to burst into spontaneous giggle fits. They were really cute, and you hoped that Tommy followed through with asking her out.

“How was the trip?” Joel asked, greeting the guests as you and Tommy helped them off the tender.

“Wonderful! We saw so much!” the primary exclaimed, regaling Joel with a colorful account of their adventure and the sharks they saw. He winked at you as he listened intently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner on the third night started out strong. Tess’ culinary delicacies were on point, as always, and the guests were pleased with every dish that came out of the galley the entire time. The preference sheets indicated that none of the guests had any significant dietary restrictions, and they were open to trying new things, so Tess designed a menu to showcase her best work. For dinner on the third night, Tess opted for a Japanese Omakase, preparing a variety of sushi dishes she thought the guests would enjoy with one course consisting of uni.

The interior team went above and beyond with the table decorations, going with a sea theme featuring turquoise sea glass, starfish, shells, and sailor ropes strategically placed across the table. Their service was on par as well, with you and Ellie jumping in to assist with bringing up the food.

“This is delicious,” the primary told Sarah as they finished the second course – a salmon temaki. “Compliments to the chef.”

Everyone was happy and having fun… until they weren’t.

Tommy and Jake just cleared the plates from the second course, making room for the third course. Sarah led the way with Emmy, Talia, Sammy, Ellie, and you following, each with a plate and a glass of dry sake in hand.

“For the third course, we have uni sashimi accented with lemon and a dash of salt, and a ponzu drizzle. It is paired with Junmai dry sake. Enjoy,” Sarah explained as the plates were set down in front of the guests with intricate coordination that Sarah made you all run through three times.

Initial murmurs indicating they loved the presentation and taste, you all turned to head back down to the galley in preparation for the fourth course. You were the last one to step through the door, just catching the hint of something gone wrong as you crossed the threshold.

It started off as a clearing of the throat, nothing atypical, but you paused. Something about it seemed… off. It didn’t stop, quickly turning to loud wheezing and the clear signs of someone struggling to breathe. Spinning on your heels, your eyes searched the table. The women’s eyes were all on the primary guest, her face flushed as she struggled to breathe. Was it your imagination or were her lips slightly bigger than they were moments ago, too?

Everything clicked in your head – she was having an allergic reaction to the uni. You’d heard of it before but never witnessed an anaphylactic reaction before. Your training kicked in immediately and you sent out a distress call over the radio, your voice clear, belying your internal panic. “Medical assistance needed on the sundeck! Repeat: medical assistance needed on the sundeck.”

“Help her, please!” Maria begged, dark eyes wide and panicked as her slender hands gripped your forearm. “I didn’t know she had any food allergies!”

You rushed to the primary’s side, helping her lay back on the deck. Hives were spreading from the sensitive crease of her elbows down her arms, and you knew the same was likely happening on her belly. The wheezing was quickly getting worse. This was a severe reaction. Shit!

Where was everyone? How were you the only one on the deck?

You were just about to make another call for help over the radio when Tommy and Joel came crashing onto the sundeck, a med kit in Joel’s hands.

“She’s having an allergic reaction. Hives and compromised breathing,” you blurted, heart beating out of your chest from the adrenaline. The primary was just starting to lose consciousness, the swelling closing her throat and preventing her from taking in a breath.

“Ok. There’s an injector pen in here,” Joel replied, calm and cool under pressure as his big hands quickly searched through the medical supplies. “Ah, here it is.” Tommy was already calling for medical transport.

Joel directed you to hold primary’s leg steady as he injected the pen into the meat of her outer thigh through the fabric of her dress. The epinephrine kicked in immediately, reducing the swelling of her tongue and throat, allowing the primary to breathe again.

Some of the guests were crying, worried for their friend, and Tommy stepped closer to comfort Maria as you and Joel continued to help the primary guest.

“What happened?” she asked, confused, as you dabbed at her forehead with a cool cloth napkin.

“You had an allergic reaction to the uni, doll. We gave you epinephrine,” Joel explained, gently holding her hand as she grasped for something to tether her back to reality. “The medics will be here any minute to take you to shore. You still need emergency care to make sure you’re ok.”

“Th-thank you,” the primary replied tearfully, and you helped her sit up against the railing with gentle movements. You sat with her until the medics arrived, making sure she was alright. The other women argued over who would go with her, finally coming to a decision as the primary was carried on a backboard onto the ferry.

Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline crash when Maria approached, grasping them. “Thank you for reacting so quickly and getting her help. I don’t want to think what would have happened if you weren’t there. You may have just saved her life.”

Stunned, you tried to stammer out a response before Joel wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s got a lion’s heart, this one,” Joel chimed in, beaming at you proudly. Unable to help himself, his thumb caressed your upper arm and you leant into the touch, soothing your spent nerves.

The rest of the evening was a blur after that excitement and Tommy sent you off to bed early, having earned it with your heroics. Before you could head down to your cabin, Joel texted you, asking you to join him on the bridge. Frank was standing at the helm when you arrived.

“Hey kid. Nice save today.” Frank’s kind eyes sparkled. “He’s in his quarters.”

“Thanks Frank!” You nodded, shooting him a half-smile as you turned in the direction of Joel’s private room. It warmed your heart that Joel was okay with his senior staff knowing about the two of you. He had significant trust in them after years of friendship and working together.

Your knuckles barely rapped against the door before it was ripped open and you were unceremoniously tugged into the room. Large, warm hands grasped your face, dark eyes staring into your own, searching for something.

“Sweetheart,” Joel breathed, the puff of air washing over your skin. “You did amazin’ today. Are you okay after all that?”

You nodded, drained from the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash. “I’m alright. That was intense and I’m exhausted, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Good.” His lips pressed against yours, needy and wanting, as his hands roamed your body. His tongue teased at your puffy bottom lip, seeking entrance to dance with your own. Your lips parted, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless. Thick fingers tangled in your disheveled hair, holding you close as Joel’s mouth met yours again and again in a series of longing kisses.

“I wish I could stay here with you tonight,” you said, hating the neediness in your voice. “I slept so well with your arms around me the other night.”

“Believe me, I want nothing more, but we can’t. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Wide, puppy eyes were glassy and remorseful as they stared down at you. “I…”

“No, it’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know we can’t, but it’s a nice thought.” Tucking your head against his chest, you breathed Joel in, enjoying the scent and warmth of him. Perhaps you would be here with him in your dreams.

TBC

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

hiiiii this is my first time requesting <33 I saw you’re open to writing au’s so I was wondering if you could do a dog owner!au for matt murdock where his guide dog and the reader’s dog tie them together with their leashes like that scene from the beginning in 101 dalmatians? thank you!

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

Technically speaking, Matt doesn't need a guide dog. His senses keep him pretty well-protected, but sometimes there's a curb he doesn't see, or a fire hydrant that he doesn't smell the chemical paint on. Even his stick has its flaws, and after the last one had gotten jammed in a gutter drain, he'd made some innovations to his life.

Said adaptation's name is Sadie. She's a sweet dog, damn good at her job, and if he had to guess, probably cute as a button. She's helped him cross one-too many silent crosswalks for him to ever doubt her skills.

Which is why he's infinitely confused when her leash catches on something. She's always aware of how it feels, when it's too tight or too loose, when it's snagged on a bush, anything that could put the strain on Matt instead of her. So when he waits for her to rearrange it and she doesn't, he stops in his tracks.

"Sadie.." He calls tentatively, "Honey, where are you?"

"Oh," he hears a voice beside him, one that he'd been too caught up in worrying to hear before, "She's checking out my dog! I hope that's okay," You worry, and Matt's chest pulses strangely at the sweet tone of your words, "She came right up to us and.. well.. you hadn't stopped her, and I didn't know-"

"It's fine," He assures you, hoping that his smile is charming, "She just doesn't usually approach anyone else. She's my seeing eye dog, and I thought she had work procedure down pretty well. But I guess dogs will be dogs, sometimes."

"She's cute," You gush, and he chuckles as he feels a wet nose against his fingertips, then a paw on his stomach, different in size to Sadie's.

"Oh, that's my boy! Sorry," You chuckle, but Matt's fingers curl against the dog's scalp to scratch at his fur, "He doesn't normally jump up at people like that."

"It's alright," He promises, feeling your dog's tail against the back of his legs as he curves around, "What kind of dog is he?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," You hum, "He's a mutt."

"Well he seems very sweet," Matt hums, feeling a tug on Sadie's leash that compels him forwards a few steps, "Oh- uh, sorry. She's a little rough for some reason."

"It's okay!" You giggle, but he feels the toes of your shoes bump against his own with another yank on Sadie's leash, "Oh- wait!"

Your hand grabs his and he latches on in a panic, his other flying to a part of your body that he hopes isn't obscene before he can identify it. He thinks it's your waist, but it's maybe more your stomach from the way it feels when you shift.

"They're- hey, stop running!" You plead, and a short bark comes from your dog that Matt laughs at.

"Are they tangling us up?" He tests out a flex of his calves, feeling leashes wound tight around the muscles there.

"I think so," You breathe, the puff of air hitting his shoulder as your voice hovers beside his face, "I'm sorry, uh..."

"Matt," He squeezes the hand of yours that he's still holding, giving it a shake, "And you are?"

"Y/N," You supply, laughing at your makeshift handshake, "Does your seeing eye dog usually tangle you up like this? That seems counter-intuitive."

"You know, I can't say she has before," He laughs, and he hears your mouth shift as you release a giggle. He imagines a smile on your face, bright and cheery, as your eyes crinkle at the corners with your laugh.

"I'll have to remind her of her training when we get home," He teases, but what he's really planning is an abundance of treats for Sadie, and a special seat of honor at the picnic he's already imaging the two of you at.

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scepterno · 7 months

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you've made the mistake of endorsing my josé redemption arc so i shall release the horrors within

because i like to think that josé, to some extent, in the back of his mind always felt bad about hurting alejandro. yeah, he thought it was necessary to get him to man up and for alejandro's own good in the long run, hell he even enjoyed taking his frustration out on someone else sometimes. but you don't press lit cigarettes into your little brother's skin and just not care. you don't have someone looking at you with hate and fear and exhaustion in their expression every day and not feel anything. you don't hurt someone day after day and remain oblivious to what it does to them

and maybe years down the line, after a lot of therapy and a long and ongoing process of healing, josé will look at the tiny circular scars on alejandro's arm and feel this... pit in his stomach. something heavy and cold that claws at his insides and makes him nauseous, it clogs up his throat and makes him want to look away. it's the same feeling he gets whenever he sees the relief on alejandro's face when josé doesn't turn something into a competition between them, or when he tenses up at being called "al", and so on

it's so different from the warmth he feels deep in his chest whenever alejandro laughs at something he says, loud and unburdened and giddy, whenever he lets josé see him weak and in pain without trying to cover everything up, whenever he shows the tiniest bit of trust in his older brother

being part of alejandro's life means he has to put up with that annoying twig boyfriend of his, who seems dead set on antagonizing josé with snarky comments and long, hard stares that seem to burn the side of his face. but the effect is lessened whenever alejandro comes to his defense with an easy smile and a "he's not so bad, come on, stop being mean". it also means he has to deal with the lovey-dovey looks exchange between the two of them, which, eugh. but fine, whatever, he can handle it

he still fucks up sometimes, of course he does, they both do. they step on toes and revert back to old habits and hurt each other and pull away. sometimes it feels like it's an uphill battle of three steps forward, two steps back. it's painful, it's messy and it's a long, long process. but they're burromuerto men, which means they're stubborn beyond reason and the very thought of giving up is appalling to them

one time josé goes over to alejandro's and noah's apartment when the little bastard is at work. they're supposed to hang out, just the two of them, watch some cheesy telenovelas and poke fun at the acting, predict the plot 30 minutes in, and get way too invested in the characters' relationships. which is why he's confused to find the apartment silent and empty, no sign of life in the living room or kitchen. he knows alejandro's home, his shoes are at there under the hangers and the door was unlocked, so where is he? he calls out his name as he makes his way towards his bedroom, knocking on the door and waiting for a reply. still nothing. he pushes the door open cautiously and feels his heart drop to his stomach

he recalls both carlos and alejandro mentioning something about "bad days" offhandedly, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in talking about it in more detail, and so josé never bothered asking either. and now he can only assume this is what they meant, because to him this seems pretty fucking bad. alejandro's in his bed, blanket pooled around his hips, a layer of sweat covering his entire body, hair messy. one of his hands is gripping the sheets next to his thigh, knuckles white from the effort, while the other one is pressed to his forehead, obscuring his eyes from sight. he's shaking, jaw clenched tight and in the silence josé can hear how ragged and uneven his breathing is.

he can only stand and stare for another moment, before he calls out alejandro's name again, quiet and more uncertain than he's felt in a long time. alejandro startles at josé's voice, tensing up, before lifting his hand away from his face enough to look at josé. his eyes are bloodshot and filled with tears, exhausted and pained and utterly miserable, and josé doesn't know what to do

later on he's sitting on the edge of alejandro's bed, one of his hands caught in a death grip so tight he swears he can hear his bones creaking, his other hand wound around alejandro's shoulder and buried in tangled, sweaty hair. alejandro has his forehead pressed to josé's shoulder, his entire frame trembling like a leaf, breathing a mix of sniffles and gasps under the weight of his sobs, his hand clutching at josé's back so hard josé can feel his nails digging in.

and it's sat like this, holding alejandro, lightly scratching at his scalp, desperately trying not to fuck this up, that he realizes he doesn't want to see his little brother in pain anymore. fuck what the doctors say, or what his father or the rest of the family will think. this is his hermanito, and josé cannot stand seeing him in pain, not anymore

holy fuck anon just send me to an early grave why dont you UROGUGHGT *psychic damage* *psychic damage* *psychic damage*

yeah so this is EXACTLY what i had in mind with their relationship. you nailed it. it's on the damn cross. i dont even know what to say other than holy shit, you get exactly what i was putting down. AND THEN YOU RAN WITH IT. you dropped this bomb ass mini fic into my inbox and just. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO RESPOND?? my jaw is between my feet.

we stan the burromuerto brothers redemption and healing arc WE STAN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BURROMUERTO BROTHER SUPREMACY!!!!!

#long post #tagging so i can save this and find it later #alenoah #josé burromuerto #alejandro burromuerto #total drama

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onlyangle1 · 1 year

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Stitching Him Up.

Hiya!! This is my first fic so bare with me- Also it's really short so sorry about that! when i was writing it i was expecting it to be longer than it was- Anyway I don't really know what else to say so...Enjoy!

P.S: Remember you can give requests whenever you want, im sure i will get round to them!

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are sitting in the academy with a nice book when five walks in obviously hurt, you help him get cleaned up and he confesses to you after thanking you for helping him

Warnings: blood, needles, injury, my writing

You were sitting in the living room of the academy, quietly reading a book when Five stumbled in, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned stare, squinting your eyes a little when he waved you off, hobbling over to you.

“I’m fine, what were you reading?” he asked. You knew there was something wrong, but you told yourself to leave it. If Five didn’t want you to know, then you weren’t going to pry, if he needed help he would come to you, you thought.

You looked at him wearily but answered his question none the less. “oh! its just this book ben was talking to me about, he said I would like it and let me borrow it! How nice is that?” you smile, holding out the book to Five.

Five took the book out of your hands, taking a look at both covers and flicking through the first few pages, nodding along to what you were saying. “Hm, that is nice of him.”, he said, thinking to himself and wincing as he sat down on the sofa opposite you clutching his side.

“Okay, are you hurt or something? I can tell there’s something wrong!”

“I’ll live, it’s fine.” he grunted, but you could see the pain etched on his face. You got up off the sofa and moved to his before you gently lifted up his shirt to see what was wrong. A nasty cut ran across his side, and you could tell it was deep. “I need to stitch this up,” you said, looking at it while softly running your fingers across his skin, getting a hiss from Five. “Sorry! Sorry, one sec’ I’ll get the first aid kit.” you said, standing up and walking into the kitchen to get the kit from under the sink.

When you get back to the sitting room, you find five with his head back against the sofa, clearly in pain. You wished he would tell you when he was hurt, but you knew he never would. It would hurt his ego. “you ready? This might hurt a little.” you, told him, with the reply of a nod yes.

You set to work, carefully cleaning and sterilizing the wound before threading a needle. Five hissed in pain as you started to stitch, but he didn’t complain. You worked quickly and efficiently, making sure to close the wound tight. “There,” you said, tying off the last knot. “All done.”

“Thanks,” Five said, breathing a little easier now that the wound was closed. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

You smiled at him, feeling a little warmth in your chest. Despite his gruff exterior, Five had a vulnerable side that only a select few were allowed to see. You were grateful to be one of those people. “Anytime,” you said, packing up the first aid kit. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt, okay?”

Five chuckled, wincing a little at the pain. “I’ll try not to,” he said, leaning back on the couch. “But you know how it is.”

You nodded, knowing all too well the dangers of their world. You had stopped the apocalypse three times now, and you were relieved to have a bit of a break for a while. But with each passing day, you were glad to have the Hargreeves by your side. And you were especially grateful for Five. He could be a dick sometimes, but he would always look out for you and his family.

“So, what happened? Not another apocalypse, I hope.” You joked before shaking your head and muttering “sorry, that wasn’t funny.” Five looked over at you as you packed away the first aid equipment. “I ran into a few men from the commission. Guess they had a sort of problem with me. Anyway, one of them had a knife i didn’t know about and cut me. I got them back for it though.” Five stated, sounding pretty proud of himself despite getting hurt in the process.

“Just..be carful, okay? I don’t know what I- we would do if something happened to you” you told him quickly correcting yourself hoping he wasn’t listening and didn’t catch it but oh of course he did, he always listened when you talked, it was like your the only person in the world and he just had to listen to you.

“i will.” he said. He seemed to be thinking of something before he finally spoke up. “I really care about you, you know. More than most people and I know it’s not just because of how much we’ve been through together, though that does help.” Five nodded along with himself almost like he was agreeing to what he was saying.

You look up at him, feeling yourself freeze as his eyes meet yours, feeling your heart start to race. Was he really saying what you think he was saying? What you had been wanting him to say for years now?

He took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to touch yours. “Well, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. That I’ve loved you for a long time, ever since we got partnered up together in the commission, but I was too afraid to tell you. And I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had always suspected that there was something more between you two, but to hear him say it out loud was almost too much to handle. “I love you too, Five,” you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. “Good,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. It was a soft, gentle kiss, full of all the love and tenderness that had been building between you two for so long.

As you broke apart, you knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more missions, more battles to fight, but you were ready for them all as long as you had Five by your side. Together, you were unstoppable. You always had been.

#five x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves fluff #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves angst

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royal-bubble-tea · 1 month

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Stray Kıds Headcanon

As we all know Stray Kıds are pocket sized, so I want to induldge myself once more and write Stray Kıds Members with a tall significant other. I am 1,80m/ 5'11 so I am using my own height as reference.

Stray Kıds x tall! gn! Reader

Bang Chan

I think Chan does not care about someone elses height. He knows that you both can do nothing about each others height so you can only embrace and love each other just the way you are. Just picture the two of you standing next to each other and him looking up at you. There are hearts in his eyes, dimples showing and so happy to have you by his side. One of his favourite things to do is taking pictures with you. Especially ones were you are posing and him jumping as high as he can. After landing he would look at you all smug and proud with himself. While you are just standing there shaking your head a smile adorning you face.

Lee Know

He would tease you but would stop in an instant if he notices that you would not like his teasing anymore. He has a hard time showing his affection openly. So he would put things in high places and later ask you to grab them for him. He would smile and blush so hard at how happy you are by being useful. Lee know just finds it so cute to look up at you and admire you.

Changbin

This short King is everything you could hope for in a partner. He worships the ground you walk on. He would puff his chest in pride when walking around with you in public. The way you are turning heads makes him smile so much, knowing that other people may look but only he can get the real deal. He absolutly loves touching your legs, running his hands up and down the lenght of them. Changbin also loves to just lift you up at random times, just because he can. He twirls you around and hearing your laughter makes his heart burst with love.

Hyunjin

You two are pretty much the same height. And let me tell you Hyunjin absolutely adores your height. With you being equal to him no one has to bend down awkwardly or has to dance and balance on their tippy toes. You can kiss each other whenever you want and nuzzle your noses together. But what Hyunjin loves the most about your height is that he can easily gaze into your eyes and get lost in them. Just image being out on a date with him and he keeps looking deep into your eyes, lost in tought and a serene smile on his face, just happy to share this moment with you.

Han

This little shit would not let you breath. It is either constantly cracking jokes with you and teasing you a little bit about your height or him just clinging to you like a koala to a tree. It is mostly the latter. He would often cling to you. Being draped around you or over your back, grasping your arm tight and pulling you closer to him. But sometimes it can be something more calm, like him holding your hand or the tip of your shirt. He loves how much comfort you give him and how he can just forget about the hectic world around him by being held in your warm embrace.

Felix

Heart eyes. That is the main thing about him. Just hearts, and stars and even an entire galaxy in his eyes when looking at you. He is so much in love with you and your height. Felix loves to point out your height and the height difference between the two of you to others. Instead of being embarassed by it he absolutely adores it. He thinks it is just so cute. Another big plus for him is the fact that you can swallow him up in an embrace. He loves to just disappear when you hug him. It makes him feel loved and protected and you would do everything to make your sunshine happy, even if you sometimes have to roll your eyes at his antics.

Seungmin

Is pretty much neutral about you height. He fell in love with you and your personality. He once admitted to you that he chose you for the content of your character not for your physical features. He will always stand proud next to you and would (verbally) fight everyone who would make you feel bad about your height. You two would be each others own personal hype person, when one is lacking confidence the other would build them up again and shower them with love.

I.N (Jeongin)

He would blush constantly when looking up at you. He does not mind at all that you are taller than him. The only thing that might concern him is his members teasing you. But after they saw how much he adores you their teasing would be very mild and you would always laugh along with them. Jeongin secretly loves the thought that he his your cute little other half. He loves having your legs on top of his and just running his hands up and down the lenght of them.

Hope you like this little Headcanon. I absolutely adore our pocket sized/ short kings Stray Kıds members. ☺️🤭

#stray kids #stray kıds headcanons #bang chan #han jisung #seo changbin #lee know #lee felix #kim seungmin #jeongin #kim hyunjin #stray kıds fluff

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irrlicht-writes · 1 month

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scribbles on your spine

Read this and its updates on Ao3! Updates will be semi-weekly~

The light of the moon shines right into the small of the alleyway and Vox whimpers. He stares at Alastor’s back, and the demon’s head twitches, turning back around. The bullet had hit him right straight through the eye, and blood is pouring out of the socket. There’s blood on his shining yellow teeth, and it’s dropping down his chin onto his shoulders and chest.

“Little fool,” Alastor croons in a deep, warbling voice, “do you want me to kill you?” | When promises were made, years and years apart, sometimes it's worth remembering what those promises were for. And when they dance again, in a hall full of light, they might just tear each other apart.

Vox is staring at the calendar as if it’s somehow going to solve the problem for him. February is fast approaching, and with it, Valentine’s Day. He’s not sure what to do. Are he and Alastor an item? They’ve kissed, sure, but they’ve done little else... well, what happened in the studio non-withstanding. Vox still blushes when he thinks about that. He’d like a repeat.

Regardless, he’s getting distracted. Valentine’s Day. What the fuck is he going to do – is he going to do anything? What if Alastor will do something? Fuck, if only one of them were a girl, then this wouldn’t be so complicated. But Alastor is a girl, right? He’s got all the girl skills. Vox isn’t actually sure what girl skills actually are, but Alastor for sure got them, right? Cooking, cleaning, sewing, that sort of shit. And! And he has gossip parties with Rosie, doesn’t he? So yeah. Alastor is the girl. While Vox is the man. With all the man skills. Like. Like, uh. He’s surely got some deeply buried, manly man skills. Yup. Absolutely. Vox the Man, at your service.

Fucking hell.

Back to the damn point!

Valentine’s Day.

What the fuck is he gonna do?

Does Alastor even want to be wined and dined? Not that Vox can even afford that shit. What about flowers? Chocolate? Does Alastor even like chocolate? Can deer eat chocolate? What if he doesn’t like it? Gods fucking damn it. He curls up in his bed and hugs his pillow tight.

Alastor likes singing, and he likes dancing. That at least Vox knows. So maybe a trip to the club? But that hardly feels appropriate for Valentine’s Day. And does Alastor even like going to clubs? He’s never mentioned going to any before. Vox groans into his bedding. This had been easier when he had been alive. He really had to pull the baddest bitch in town in Hell, didn’t he?

If at least the bad bitch were uncomplicated...!

“Gods, you’re my last hope, I beg of you!”

Yesterday, Vox had shyly asked Rodriguez for advice. He hadn’t specified who his paramour was but judging by the man’s more than tired look, he had known. He’d also said fuck you in nice, flowery words. And then the asshole had walked away. Rodriguez was the rudest, useless assholes Vox had the misfortunate to know. He had definitely not run after him in tears, begging him for help. Nope. He would never, he’s a man.

And right now, in front of him, are sitting Husk and Niffty. He’d been lucky to get them both at the house while Alastor had been away. Niffty is chugging her coffee like it’s a sport – she’s on cup five already – and Husk looks like he just got rumpled out of sleep, although the grumpy look is definitely a staple for him anyway.

“I find that hard to believe,” Husk says and looks at his coffee. He’s complained about not being able to get whiskey – they are at a café, for fuck’s sake, they don’t serve fucking alcohol also it’s bloody midday!

“You know him better than I. Husk, please, just tell me what I can get him for Valentine’s. We’re... together, or something. And – and he’s the girl, so I have to get him a gift, but I don’t even know if he likes chocolate!”

“No,” Husk answers instinctively. “Wait, Alastor’s the girl?”

“Alastor’s not a girl!” Niffty pipes up. “He’s the bestest bad boy I know! Hey! I need another coffee!”

“No, Niff, you don’t need more coffee. Anyway – no, Red doesn’t like chocolate. He’ll eat it, but he doesn’t like sweets. And, Vox, I – I don’t think he cares about Valentine’s. So, don’t stress about it? If you really wanna do something – shit, I dunno. Also, what the fuck you mean when you say Red’s the girl?”

Vox whimpers and lets his face fall onto the table. He doesn’t know what to do! Ugh, he’s a terrible boyfriend. Is he even a boyfriend? Gods, why is this so complicated? Getting married had been simpler than this shit. He’s lucky to not have hair, he surely would’ve turned grey already.

“What do I do,” he whimpers against the table, his one and only friend in this hellscape.

“Pay the fucking coffee bill,” Husk says and Vox slumps.

He needs friends that are useful.

Later that day, Vox sits on the low wall, staring off into space. Somewhere above him is a transmitter mast, and he can hear Alastor broadcasting. He’s not really listening to the words – it’s early afternoon, and that’s when Alastor is running most of his cooking advice or actual skits. Speaking of, maybe he could cook for Alastor...? Well, yeah, he could do that, if he never wants to see the demon ever again.

Most storefronts are decorated in pink hearts and whatever else is considered cute. So, the easy solution is out: no chocolate for the radio demon. What about flowers? Maybe some nice, red roses? But – that feels so basic. Alastor is special, and so Vox should do something special. But what? Okay, let’s think; what does Alastor like?

He likes radio. He likes blood. He likes murder. He likes carnage. He likes Vox – probably.

Vox pulls a face. That’s not exactly a list he can do much with. Sure, maybe he could try to buy him a radio, but – it’s likely Alastor would already have it, no? And sure, Vox could try and import stuff from the living world, but he doesn’t have enough money for that and the demon is severely allergic against things that are younger than he is.

Vox sighs and hugs his legs.

Even after all this time, it’s jarring how similar Hell is. They celebrate the same holidays as back topside, and money is still a ruler over everyone. If something can get exploited monetarily, then it will be. Vox doesn’t really mind, but it sure as fuck stresses him out. Maybe he should just buy the demon a card. Something like bee mine or something, but instead something with a deer pun. You’re deerest to me, or some corny shit like that. But that would hardly be special, wouldn’t it? Anyone could do that. Vox wants to be different. He wants to be special.

But – how?

“You’re kinda pathetic, you know?”

Vox blinks, and looks up to see Maggie standing there. Huh. He hadn’t really expected her.

“Leave me alone,” he murmurs and hugs his knees tighter. He wants to sulk.

“Roddie said you got Valentine’s problems. Why? Flowers ain’t good enough?”

“No!”

Maggie rolls her eyes and sits down next to him.

“Why not? Creepy fucker would like ‘em, no? I hear he’s tryna to be a gentleman, or somethin’. And why don’t you think he’s gonna get you something?”

Vox blushes. He’s really obvious, isn’t he? But well, how could he not? Alastor is everything, and he doesn’t quite understand why he’s alone in this – not that he minds, he really doesn’t want to share, and he’s afraid that in a straight-up battle he’d lose pathetically. So maybe nobody sharing his viewpoint is a good thing.

“I want it to be special. Only thing I could do that’s different is organise a murder fest, but how the fuck would I do that? Like, walk up to someone and be like Yo wanna get slaughtered by the radio demon as a Valentine’s present? Yeah, no.”

Maggie hums, and kicks her legs a little. It’s kind of nice, Vox supposes, that she stopped. She didn’t have to, but she did.

“If it were reversed,” she says then, “what would you hope for?”

Vox looks at her and thinks. If Alastor were to give him a gift for Valentine’s... honestly, he’d be happy with anything, as long as Alastor were the one giving it. But it’s different for him. Vox knows he’s more in love with the demon than the demon is in love with him; if Alastor is really in love with him at all. But he feels dumb saying that. And to Maggie, of all people, not that it matters much.

“I dunno,” he settles on, then, because he doesn’t want to leave her hanging. “Maybe something that shows he thought about it for more than a moment.”

Maggie nods, seemingly lost in thought a bit. “You know,” she continues, “if it were me, I think I’d want something that reminds me of him. You know? Like, I’d look at it years down the road, and I’d still remember who it’s from, even if we’re not together anymore. A nice memory, no matter what happens, you know? Something to prove that there had been someone, even if it’s no longer true.”

Befuddled, he looks at her. Huh, that’s actually kind of profound. Something that’ll always show you were there, once, even if you’re not any longer. Sure, Vox won’t ever leave Alastor’s side, but he likes the poetics behind the statement.

“Can’t you be this profound when we shoot our fucking movies?”

Maggie laughs, and punches him in the arm.

“I could be,” she chuckles, “if the scripts were good. See you later, Vox. Don’t think too hard, yeah? I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She hops down the wall and saunters away. Vox looks after her for a bit, before he directs his gaze onto the pavement. What could he do, that is unique to him, that would remind Alastor of him for years to come? He touches his face. He has an idea, but he doesn’t know if it’ll work. He could just try it. What’s the worst that could happen? But he needs help with it. He hopes Alastor is still out. He slides down the wall, and makes his way to his destination.

He’s lucky.

Alastor is still out.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Niffty says. “How big do you want it?”

“Not big,” Vox replies, “It just needs to fit something of this size into it, so it’ll need a zipper or something in the back.”

He shows Niffty with his fingers, and she gets paper to draw a line on it. “Is it okay if I need a week?”

He nods. “Yeah, sure, don’t worry about it. I need to make the thing first, anyhow. And thanks for helping me, Niffty. What can I give you in return?”

Niffty taps a finger against her chin, thinking hard. “Nothing! It’s for Alastor, so it’s okay. He always finds the best bugs for me, and lets me do my puppet shows. I like him a lot! And don’t worry, I won’t tell him. He usually doesn’t care what I do in my free time.”

Vox breathes a sigh of relief. That’s good to hear. He’ll still think of something to do for Niffty – he can’t really do his plan without her, after all. Maybe some energy drinks supply, or something. She seems to be finding bugs and bad boys on her own well enough – such an odd combination.

“My my, is that a bunny I spy?”

Vox doesn’t shriek, really, he doesn’t, when Alastor speaks up behind him. Fucking hell, he hadn’t heard the door open.

“H-hey, Allie,” he croaks like a frog and turns his head, looking at the demon over his shoulder. Behind him is Husk, holding grocery bags. It surprises Vox every time, seeing the demon be so domestic he goes and buys groceries like a regular motherfucker.

Husk drags himself in the direction of the kitchen, clearly thrilled with his current situation in life.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be visiting, dear. Will you be staying for dinner? I was told a new recipe I simply must try out.”

The demon swings his cane around and pats Niffty on the head absent-mindedly. He doesn’t even seem to notice and fuck, Vox is in love. He looks up at Alastor, smiling like the fool he is.

“Yeah, I’d like to. I’d really like to stay.”

I’d really like to stay forever.

Vox doesn’t really have much space in his home, but he makes do. In life, he’s liked to tinker a fair amount, so he’s feeling pretty confident. He’s got no idea if Alastor will actually like his gift, but – maybe in the end, the thought is what counts most. And boy, did Vox think about this. Even if this turns out to be a failure, he can always look back and say he’s tried his best. But it won’t. It won’t be a failure, it’ll be a huge success. Holding his trusty screwdriver in hand, Vox smiles.

He looks out the window. Dinner at Husk’ house had been an experience, and Vox is eager to repeat it.

“It tastes like garbage!”

“Now, you’re just saying that because I didn’t put the cheese in. You know how terrible you react to cheese, Husker! Vox, dear, what do you think?”

“Hey, that ain’t fair! Of course he’s gonna take your side! No, we need someone neutral and the only neutral party here is me, so I’m fucking right! Give me the cheese!”

“Bushwa! How in the hells are you neutral on this stance? I shall in fact eat all the cheese myself!”

“You won’t fucking dare!”

Yeah, it had been funny. And Vox hadn’t said it then, but yeah, cheese would’ve been better.

He laughs and presses his hands together in front of his chest. He loves the demon so. So, so much, he could explode. Gods, he wants to kiss him again. Again and again and again, until the end of time.

“Here you go. Is it okay?”

Vox takes it from Niffty’s hands and squeezes it. He smiles. “It’s perfect, Niffty, thank you. Allie didn’t see it?”

“Nuh-uh! I told you, he doesn’t care what I do in my free time! Are you giving it to him now?”

Vox shakes his head. He still has some time, and he’s unsure on where to give it to Alastor. Inviting him home feels weirdly intimate, and laden with expectations he’s unsure Alastor would be comfortable with. Not that Vox... wouldn’t want, but... he’s a considerate boyfriend, is all. Truly an angel, he is.

“Not yet. Don’t tell him, okay? I’ll do it on Valentine’s.”

Niffty smiles, posing adorably. “Okay,” she answers, “I hope everything goes well, TV man!”

She skips away and Vox holds the gift close. His heart is beating fast. He’s even picked the right song. Well, at least he hopes so. He’s gotta admit, he’s a little giddy. However, with the gift in hand, he’s rather not be caught by Alastor again – being in his house is excusable, but holding this thing? Yeah no, the demon might get curious and we can’t have that. So he starts hurrying home. Sure, he would like to see Alastor, but Valentine’s is soon.

Having arrived home, he gets to work. It’s not much left to do, but Vox takes great care in it. When he’s done, he tests it out – it would do no good if it would blow up into the demon’s face first thing he does. But it works. Sure, it’s not perfect, and it might not sound like the things you can buy, but – Vox made this himself (well, with Niffty’s help, but mostly himself!).

He hopes Alastor will like it. He really, really does.

The radio demon’s not cruel, is he?

It’s Valentine’s, and it’s early evening, almost still afternoon. Vox sits on the bench, nervous as hell – he’s wearing his good suit, one that he rarely ever puts on. Husk and Niffty had promised to get Alastor into the park at roughly this hour, and Vox needs to think of something to thank them with. He had considered wrapping his present, but he decided against it. He didn’t even put a bow on it, or anything. What if Alastor didn’t like cute, and would look at a bow with disdain? No, no, best to play it safe. Best option would probably be to toss that thing at Alastor’s head from a distance, yell something vaguely romantic and run for the fucking hills before the demon would even get what was going on at all.

“Oh! Are you the surprise Husker mumbled about?”

Vox’s breath hitches in his throat. Looking to the side, nervous as hell, he can see Alastor stroll over. He looks like he always does – of course he does, why would he look any different? Before the demon can reach the bench, Vox jumps to his feet, hiding his gift behind his back. He feels like a little boy.

“I – I, uh – yes, I am!”

Alastor stops two steps in front of him and tilts his head.

“Whatever are we meeting in the park for? You know where my house is. If you want to look at the roses, they’re best enjoyed around midday! They are also free to take, in case you wish to decorate.”

Vox takes a deep breath. Husk said that Alastor doesn’t care much about Valentine’s, so he’s probably unaware. That’s okay, Vox is hyper-aware for both of them.

“It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Alastor had turned his head towards the rosebushes, and now he looks back at Vox, blinking confused.

“It is? My, time sure does fly, does it not? I’m unsure as to what importance it is, though. Is it... your birthday?”

Bless his heart, he sounds truly confused. Vox can’t help but smile. He’d been so nervous these past few days, but standing here now, with Alastor, he can feel it all melt away, like it never even mattered. If Alastor won’t like his gifts – that would be okay. He’s here. He’s here. That’s all that matters.

“I have a gift for you,” he says, calm for the first time in days, “for Valentine’s.”

He holds his hands outward and Alastor blinks, taking it. In his claws, he holds a small plush TV that Niffty made. Curiously, the demon turns it. He looks at Vox then, clearly waiting for some more information.

“It’s, uh, it’s –“ Okay, now he’s nervous again. “Here, if you press it – try pressing it, gently.”

Blinking, confused but ever so cute, Alastor squeezes the little plush toy and then You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile starts playing. Surprised, Alastor holds the plush closer, and his ears twitch – gods Vox wants to lick them.

“You like that song, right? I – Niffty helped me with sewing that toy –“

“I see,” the demon interrupts Vox’s attempts at rambling, and he turns the toy over. “How does it work?”

Eager, Vox steps forward and opens the plush TV. He points to the device he’s put in there – whenever the pressure point is pressed enough, the song starts playing, and it runs on battery, so it’s easily exchangeable.

“Do you – do you like it?”

Alastor hums, squeezing the toy again. Then he looks at his cane.

“I do,” he admits, “but I can play the song myself. Can you change the song the device plays?”

Vox deflates a little – he should’ve thought about that. Alastor is a radio host, after all, of course he would have access to all his favourite songs on demand. But hey, the thought still counts, doesn’t it?

“I – yes, I can,” damn his voice for sounding so detached, “what song would you like?”

Alastor looks at him, and smiles. “Yours.”

Vox blinks, confused. Huh? “Huh?”

“I can play any song I want with my microphone. What I can’t do,” he says, voice sultry sweet, “is have you sing it for me.”

Vox can’t breathe. Did he really – did he – for real? He – he hadn’t even thought about that. Vox isn’t a singer, not really, but – Alastor – he – he really – gods. Oh fuck, he’s so in love.

“You – you really want me to sing it?”

“Yes,” affirms Alastor, still smiling. “Whichever song you please, as long as you sing it. Can you do that?”

Vox wants to fuck him, he wants to kiss him, he wants to marry him.

“Yes,” Vox breathes and he takes the toy when Alastor hands it back. He can’t look away from the demon.

“Thank you for the gift,” the radio demon croons, “I look forward to receiving it.”

He brushes his fingers along Vox’s face, and Vox whimpers. He’s behaving like a fucking teenager, but he can’t fucking stop.

“Come,” Alastor says, unbothered, “let me invite you to drinks. A new bar has opened up, and I had planned to visit it with dear Husker sometime, but your company is much more pleasant! Come, come!”

Without waiting, he stalks on ahead and Vox only has time to stuff the toy into his bag before he runs after him.

The bar they go to is actually kind of fancy, not the usual garbage clubs Vox tends to visit. There’s even a stage, and a singer is performing. Well, at least Vox isn’t underdressed, even if these people aren’t his, well, people.

“Allie, I don’t think I fit in here. They’re all fancy and stuff.”

Vox presses against Alastor’s arm, his only shield against all the looks he surely must be getting.

“Bushwa! If they have a problem with you, they might dare and come to me. No, no, dear sheik, worry not your pretty square head. Come, let us try out the drinks. If they are bad, I mustn’t bring Husker here at all, ha!”

They wander over to the bar and Vox only really felt safe if he was physically pressed against the demon. Luckily, Alastor seems not to mind.

“Hello, my good man! Give us your best quilt, now will you?”

The barkeep just grunts, and complies.

“Shall we make it a competition, dear? Whoever of us can drink more?”

Vox pouts. “What do I get if I win?”

“So focused! If you win, love, then I might be persuaded to sleep in your bed tonight.”

“Get us all the drinks!”

Alastor laughs and Vox desperately tries to drink straight from the bottle. He can drink that twig under the table!

He, in fact, could not drink that twig under the table. Alastor is a fucking bottomless barrel. Like, seriously, where is storing all that alcohol? Vox can barely walk straight, and the only effect on Alastor seems to be a slight blushing of his cheeks. It’s fucking adorable, but that’s not the point!

“You should’ve said you can drink like you bein’ paid for it.”

Alastor laughs, a clear sound in the night. “I don’t recall you asking, darling. Never take a bet if you don’t know all the relevant factors. I’m win-orientated!”

An asshole, is what he is. An asshole Vox is sadly madly in love with.

“So, what did you win, exactly?”

The demon gives him a side-eye, smirking only.

“Why, I won my right to sleep wherever I want tonight! Also, of course, I won you, didn’t I?”

Before Vox can fully comprehend that sentence – he is drunk, after all – Alastor pushes him against the wall and presses himself along Vox’s body. Vox’s breath hitches and he’s blushing, not just because of the alcohol. It’s dark, and Alastor is so pretty. Vox wants him. He just fucking wants him so much. He bites his lip, and stares into the red eyes before him.

He wants to – he loves him. He wants to say it, but he doesn’t dare. Why not? It’s Valentine’s. Now’s the day he should be able to say it. But something stops him. Vox whimpers and puts his hands on Alastor’s waist – it’s so tiny, so thin and Vox presses against the body before him.

“Cash,” Vox doesn’t beg, because he’s a man and men don’t beg. Alastor curls his lip in a snarling smile and reaches forward, slow, always too slow. Vox opens his mouth in advance, waiting, eagerly waiting and he smell Alastor’s rancid breath already when voices sound from the corner.

“You the radio demon?”

Oh, Vox hates them and wants them to die.

Alastor turns his head towards the voices, but he hardly removes himself from the position he’s in. His upper lip is curled in the grimace of a smile and he blinks slowly.

“So sorry, gents, I’m not on air at the moment. If you have song requests, please keep them to yourselves.”

“Nah, you fucker, we’re here to beat you up.”

Alastor sighs and rolls his eyes. “Really,” he grumbles, only to Vox, “can’t they tell I’m busy?”

That’s him! That’s Vox! Vox is busy!

But he does push away from the nice position they’ve been in and he fully turns to the sinners that have started coming closer.

“Let’s do this quickly, then. Seven against one! It’s not like I stand a chance. My, what a bind I’m in! Whatever shall I do, woe be upon me.”

He’s undermining his own words by focusing on the dirt under his fingernails. He’s so fucking silly, Vox loves him. However, the sinners seem to take courage from it, as they begin to advance more quickly. Sobering up faster than Vox ever thought to be possible, he pushes himself from the wall, ready to stand with the demon.

“Hush, my love. Don’t get in the way. Stand there and look pretty, will you?”

The sinners are close now, and Alastor snaps his head around with a loud crack. It echoes in the alleyway they’re in and Vox – he expects to see something like he saw at the gala, but he doesn’t. Instead, Alastor rushes forward, faster than Vox even knew was possible and he lands exactly in the middle of the intruders. With black hands and claws, he swipes through the air, ripping two people in half. Blood splatters onto the ground and the other five shriek in terror, and they separate.

Alastor grins wide, more smile than anything else, and there’s blood on his cheek. Without missing a beat, he jumps after another two, smashing their heads against the nearby wall. They burst open like ripe watermelons. One of the remaining three finally fumbles out his gun, and he aims at Alastor with shaking hands. Vox gasps when he hears the shot – Alastor’s head jerks, and Vox wants to scream already, but the demon just laughs, deep and full on static. His head cracks back up and Vox can hear the sinner mutter a very heart-felt “fuck” before Alastor jumps him too, chomping his teeth on his head, ripping it clear off. The two that are still alive have scrambled back to the entry of the alleyway and Alastor turns his head, with the head of their, their leader, still in his mouth.

“Running already? But I’m not even done yet! Come! Come beat me up, I’m all open!”

As if to prove his point, he throws his arms to the side, laughing. The ripped off head falls to the ground with a wet sound and the sinners scream, and they run away.

Alastor turns around fully and starts stalking towards Vox – it’s only a handful of steps and Vox sinks to his knees. Alastor stops before him and he grins wide. With the moonlight behind him, he looks like he belongs exactly where he is. Vox presses his legs together, trying to get some friction. Slowly, Alastor bends over, never ever needing a spine and he grabs Vox’s face with bloody hands. He pulls Vox back up with him and slowly, too fast, slams him against the wall. There’s something fleshy moving in his eye socket and then Alastor presses himself up against Vox, kissing him. Needy, Vox whimpers and pawns at Alastor’s back, trying to press in closer. He can taste the sinner’s blood on Alastor’s tongue and he wants – he wants – it’s embarrassing, but oh gods, how he wants.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pants with hot breath against Alastor’s lips.

The demon growls in response and pushes his claws softly into Vox’s flesh. Vox’s hips buck forwards and he can’t help the wanton moan that escapes his throat.

“Hold onto me,” the demon rumbles in a low tone and he doesn’t need to say that twice. Desperate for his mouth again, Vox presses back in, kissing him again, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, fisting his hands into his hair.

It’s dark, then, and something feels cold and wrong, and when Vox opens his eyes, they’re in his shoebox. How did they – what - but Alastor pushes him back, onto the bed behind him. Vox catches himself on his elbows and he stares up. Half of Alastor’s face is smeared in blood, his eye is still a bloody, fleshy mess, and he tears his bowtie off.

“Undress to your liking.”

Vox must black out for a moment, but when he comes back to himself, he starts tearing his clothes off. He’s not gonna ask, and he’s gonna take it. This wasn’t how Vox had suspected today to go. And still, he’s a little insecure, so – he leaves his underwear on. Shyly, he glances up at the demon – he’s gotten rid of his bowtie, his suit jacket and his shoes, apparently. Well, Vox never thought he’d get to see Alastor’s shirt this clearly, although it is a bit of a shame.

The demon climbs on top of Vox, and presses him into the mattress. “Little sheik,” he croons with a voice as smooth as silver, “displease me, and I’ll rip you apart. But, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Teasingly, he strokes a sharp, bloody claw along Vox’s throat and he whimpers. Yes. Yes, he would like that, actually. Alastor bends forward, and licks his tongue along Vox’s neck and he shivers. Instinctively, he spreads his legs and Alastor slots himself right in, as if he belongs there and gods – the things it does to Vox’s head. Sharp teeth tease at his Adam’s apple and he – he wants. He wants Alastor to push his teeth in, rip it out and swallow it down. Fuck, fuck, what in the hells is wrong with him?!

The demon sits back up again, still smiling. With his thumb, he wipes away some blood on his cheek and holds it close to Vox’s face – so close, and yet too far to lick it clean. Vox wants. He wants to lick it clean. The demon shuffles back and blindly, Vox follows. Alastor lets himself fall back onto the mattress, and Vox follows, hovering over him. He’s out of breath already.

Smiling like a cat, Alastor reaches his hand up, pushing his thumb into the corner of Vox’s mouth. But before he can properly start sucking and licking it, Alastor pulls him down and shoves his tongue between Vox’s teeth. He moans and shivers and he leans down, lets his body fall onto Alastor’s and he responds to the kiss with wild abandon. The demon’s dainty legs sling themselves around Vox’s hips and Vox could die right now and wouldn’t regret a thing. Well, maybe he wants to get off first, but that’s a secondary objective here.

Pulling his thumb out of his mouth, Alastor wraps his arms around Vox’s neck and pulls him impossibly closer. Vox rakes his fingers on his bedding, shredding his blanket but he doesn’t care. Heart beating up to his ears, he starts to grind forwards, fully expecting to be shoved off, to be slammed against the wall and threatened within an inch of his life and that wouldn’t be so bad either. But – Alastor doesn’t stop him. He simply shifts his legs a little and if Vox weren’t dead already, he’d surely die now.

Pushing the ball of his hand against Vox’s throat, Alastor temporarily interrupts their kiss to growl, deep and dark: “Do your worst.”

Then he pulls Vox back in, biting hard onto his tongue, and Vox rams his own claws into Alastor’s shoulders, holding him as close as he can as he starts rutting against him. He can feel the demon’s blood over his fingers and fuck, he’s getting high. His own blood pools in his mouth and he bites the demon back as good as he gets. In his mouth, their blood mixes and Vox can’t tell the taste apart anymore. He loves it. Fuck, he needs more, he needs everything.

“Allie,” he pants, desperate, “Allie, fuck, I need you, gods, I can’t –“

He starts rutting faster, and he’s expecting Alastor to stop him at any moment. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

Vox is different. He’s special, and only he gets this. Only him, only him, only him.

“Only me,” he growls, as deep as he can go, and he pushes his claws into Alastor’s throat. The demon looks up at him, with half-lidded eyes – eye, rather – and the tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth. It’s full of blood. Vox breathes hard, tearing his claws down, leaving bloody streaks in his wake. Alastor doesn’t seem to mind and Vox roars, rutting faster, tearing his claws through the demon’s chest. He can feel Alastor’s claws scratch at the back of his neck and gods, he wants to. He wants them to kill each other in the bloodiest way.

Vox grunts and his thrusts become erratic. He’s so close, and Alastor’s legs are locked so tight around him. Gods, fuck, he doesn’t want to stop, how could he ever stop?

“Little fool,” Alastor croons in a deep, warbling voice, “do you want me to kill you?”

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes!” Vox shouts and he comes, smashing his lips against Alastor once again. The demon’s legs tighten around his hips and Vox is riding his high. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he wants more, he needs more, he needs it again.

Pulling away, because he needs to fucking breathe, he sinks down onto the man below him, and he breathes hard next to the demon’s face. He feels cold claws trail along his spine and he moans, closing his eyes. He swallows, his throat dry as fuck. He doesn’t know what the fuck just happened. But frankly; he kind of doesn’t care. This was – fuck, this was better than he could’ve ever fucking dreamed of.

“Wait,” he pants, “did you – ?”

“Shush, sheik. Don’t push your luck.”

Vox’s heart stops for probably a little too long, but it’s okay. Fuck. He’s never expected that Valentine’s could go like this, that – that it could feel like this.

“Your eye,” he starts.

“It will be fine. Give me two days, and why, you’ll never even know it was gone at all!”

Alastor pushes him away and sits up, looking only a little rumpled. He’s bloody all over. Vox whimpers. He wants him. He wants him more than is healthy, probably, but what is he to do? He’s so gone, he’s so far gone.

“Stay here tonight. Allie – please. Just sleep next to me. I won’t touch you, but – please.”

Alastor blinks at him. He seems to contemplate the idea.

“So needy,” he comments, but falls back all the same. “I suppose you can hold my hand.”

Vox smiles, and he does. Alastor’s hand are ice-cold, and there’s blood that’s just starting to dry on them, but it’s perfect. It’s perfect and Vox – Vox wants things to never change.

In the morning, the demon is gone.

There’s a note in his stead, though: Rest well, little fool.

Vox smiles, and keeps the note close.

#hazbin hotel #writing #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #radiostatic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hurt/comfort #irrlicht writes

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endlessnightlock · 1 year

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Here's a prompt if you're up for it: post mockingjay, before so after, Katniss hears Peeta Scream in the middle of the night, and goes to his house and slips inside the bed with him. He only notices it the morning after. If something happens in the morning is up to you

Peeta is screaming again. His moans are deep and guttural and wake me with whip-snap suddenness, sooner than I'm ready, but the groggy wakefulness is a relief.

Peeta is always saving me, this time from my nightmares.

Will either of us ever want to sleep again? I wonder, pulling myself up, unsteady and swaying. Before standing, I hesitate on the edge of the bed.

Should I go to him? Does he want me there at all? Things are still strained between Peeta and me. Maybe it's my fault. I haven't made much effort to get closer to him. I don't know how anymore. It's like there's no room left in my head for answers to those questions. Maybe the distance between us is because of Peeta. He could have returned feeling there was nowhere else for him to go for healing. Perhaps he doesn't want more than a surface relationship between us.

Shaking my head at the indecision, I get up. I'm always going to go to Peeta. I can't ignore his screams while I'm alone, save Buttercup and all the ghosts. Now the sound of his voice is in my head, my skin tight enough to burst, and my heart is racing; sick fear something could be really wrong bangs around inside my head.

I can't listen to Peeta scream. I can't know that he's terrified and do nothing to help him. I need to know he's okay, that he's safe, that no one is taking him away from me again. I need him.

I make my way downstairs and pause at the door to slide on a light pair of house shoes before trotting down the steps and running to his house. Being late summer, the air is hot and thick, lying across my body like a wet blanket.

The tree frogs, cicadas, and crickets creak loudly, and I finally notice and give thought to their presence as I reach Peeta's house. Insects out in the woods where the Capitol's firebombs didn't reach. I used to find their din maddening this time of year. Now there's something so wonderfully normal about their songs, reminding me I'm back in Twelve when I have trouble recalling that.

In a blur, I'm letting myself in at Peeta's house. His screams have fallen to a pitiful, shuddering whimper. I think the worst of it must be over, but he's curled up in the fetal position, trying to make himself smaller. Fat droplets trickle down his cheeks.

It breaks my heart that he's been alone. I know what it's like; it's been the same for me. Because I don't know how to live yet, not really, not after spending so much time wishing I wasn't here. It's been better since Peeta came back. Making sure he stays alive is enough to keep me going. We take care of each other.

"Peeta," I murmur his name as what, a warning? before kicking off my houseshoes and climbing into his bed behind him. Gingerly I let my weight settle on the mattress, positioning myself so that my head is higher than his. My arm slides around his chest from behind, and I press my body against his back, my cheek resting on his head, keeping my hold loose. Peeta told me once that they used to restrain him when he was being tortured, and that feeling of helplessness was sometimes worse than the pain.

His body stiffens a little but relaxes again, the shudders that wracked him dissipating, lessening until it's over and he's worn out and loose-limbed in my arms. His breathing evens out, and instead of waking up, he remains asleep.

I bury my face in his sweaty hair and press my lips against the crown. My body is shaking, and my lips trembling. Peeta smells like salt and damp skin and life, his unique scent.

What happened then and what's happening now overwhelm me. Tears slip from my nearly closed eyes and roll haphazardly down my face. I'm glad Peeta's asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm because I don't know why I'm crying, so I couldn't explain it to him. If he were awake, I'd feel I had to leave. I don't understand anything except the enormous relief from being with him.

KPKPKPKPKP

Peeta's awake before me, his cheek resting on his pillow, one bloodshot blue eye solemnly fixed on my face. He looks exhausted. I feel like I should say something and try to explain myself, but I've never been good at starting our conversations.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice cracking like dry parchment paper.

"You were screaming last night," I say, propping my upper half on my elbows and peering across the mattress at him. "I couldn't just listen to that."

"Sorry, I'll try to keep the noise to a minimum after dark," he says after a moment. The frown hasn't fully formed on my face before he grins at me.

"You can't do that anymore than I can. The two of us are probably bringing down the neighborhood property values," I say as if most of Twelve weren't returning refugees and transplants from Thirteen.

"No more than Haymitch already is," Peeta shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, away from me. "Things are quite cozy in Victor's Village, aren't they? All the crazies grouped together in one convenient spot. Just you, me, and Haymitch."

I sigh and flop face-first on the bed. Peeta turns back onto his side, reaching for my hand. I glance at our hands once our fingers are linked together, specifically the tracks of scars that connect him and me as a matching set. Crazy or not, I'm glad he's here.

"Thank you for coming last night. I feel like I'm losing my mind all over again when it gets as bad as it was."

I think about the way Peeta told me once that all his nightmares were about losing me. I wonder if any of his fears revolve around that now. It doesn't matter either way. My heart is inexplicably tied to his.

I turn my head and peek across the pillows at him. "Welcome," I say.

"If you want, I can come whenever I hear you scream" he adds. "If you want me to."

A lump forms in my throat, making it difficult to speak or swallow. I try to clear it away, but my voice is still husky when I answer him. "Of course, but only if you want to."

#endlessnightlock writes #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark #thg fanfiction #post-mockingjay growing back together #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble

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twigg96 · 11 months

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Would it be okay if you could write some headcannons about how Dethklok would comfort their s/o if they were crying? Nothing really happened, they were just thinking about past mistakes and memories. It’s totally fine if you’re uncomfortable with this ask, just disregard this if you are. Thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Hello my sweet anon I absolutely can write some H/Cs for a sad S/O. The boys can seem so gruff and tuff most of the time but when it comes to the ones they love they really are so sweet and kind 💕

Nathan - Soft sniffling and sobs grab his attention as he passed by his room to grab his third coffee of the night. Peeking inside his darkened room Nathan felt his heart break and shatter. Shit. His S/O was laying on his bed clinging to a pillow for dear life softly crying. He didn’t remember doing anything earlier to piss them off or make them upset or anything… still… he better check to be sure they’re ok. Walking in hesitantly Nathan rapped his knuckles against the doors metal frame to announce himself. “Babe…” Nathan muttered lowly and calmly, walking over to the side of the bed he sat on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me.” He whispered rubbing their shoulder and back lovingly. Nathan was a fantastic listener when it was important and this. This was important. He’d hang on every word his partner had to say. He’d nod his head and help his partner to rationalize with what they were thinking. He was a realist after all. And if they didn’t want to talk that was ok with him. He completely understood nonverbal communication. He’d lay down next to them on the bed and hold them close and tight to his chest, rubbing sweet loving circles into their back. Once in a while he’d kiss their head or their face while he whispered sweet nothings into their ear about how much he loved and needed them in his life. Reminding them how important they were in this world before letting them drift off to sleep.

Pickles - Life was one hell of a fucking drug. Pickles knew this more than anyone. That’s why he chose to stay high for most of it. One night while he and his S/O smoked he noticed they were a little more quiet than normal. Staring up at the stars Pickles rattled on through the night trying desperately to get any type of response from his partner. That is until a tiny hiccuped sob came out. It startled Pickles more than anything. Turning to face them he watched as they covered their own face with both hands and began to cry. He felt like a failure of a boyfriend to not have noticed that his partner was in so much pain. In an instant he’d scoop his partner into his arms and hold them tight rocking them back and forth. He wouldn’t say anything else for a moment fearing that he had said something to provoke the tears. Simply he would stroke his lovers hair and kiss their cheek letting them unfurl themselves and wrap around his body. He wait patiently for them to tell them what was wrong. And if they never wanted to. That was ok to. He understands that sometimes people just need to cry.

Murderface - The bassist was an emotional stone wall on a good day. Emotions were a mystery to the man, especially complex ones. His bandmates were astounded by the simple fact that he managed to fall so hard so fast in such a real way for his partner. He was always extremely protective of them, ready to run and fight for them at a moment's notice. So whenever he found them hyperventilating and crying in the hallway he instantly went into protective boyfriend mode. Who did it?! What happened?! Kneeling down and taking them into his arms he held them tight rubbing their shoulders. At first he tried everything in his power to make things right. He begged to understand what was happening and how he could make it better. He tried deep breathing exercises he had learned from Twinkletits. The only thing that seemed to calm his partner down even remotely was when he made them laugh. It was completely on accident on his part. He had bashed his elbow into the brick wall behind him and made "the funniest face" his partner had ever seen from him. After a very wet make out session and line of clarifying questions, Murderface and his partner laid down some ground boundaries as to how to handle the next panic attack as well as what Murderface could do to help that wouldn’t cause him bodily harm (cuddling them close like always, asking fewer questions, and relaxing so they could relax were just a few on his partner’s list).

Skwisgaar- The Swede’s love language was and always has been touch. Once he garnered the strength to ask his S/O out he couldn’t keep his hands off of them. Holding their hand in public places, touching their back to escort them through a door, running his hand through their hair as they sat silently. The love they felt for one another was always shared openly and physically. But as his partner laid with their head buried in their own knees, rocking back and forth on their shared bed, begging him not to touch them… Skwisgaar suddenly felt helpless. He wanted to help anyway he could. Reaching below the bed he pulled out his guitar, watching them nervously he began to play, softly, lovingly. A song he would come up on the fly with. One that came truly from the heart. Letting his fingers guide his tale he would close his eyes once he was sure they were calmer, breathing normally. Maybe even asleep. In the morning he would ask if they were ok. They would come to him if they wanted to. He trusted that. But for now he wanted to be the tune to end their sorrows.

Toki- The poor boy is a major worrier. On any normal day he would have an anxiety attack worrying over whether or not his S/O got enough sleep the night before they went to work. If he happened to walk past the bathroom door to hear his partner crying he would stop and press his ear to the door and listen just to be sure. He’d call out his partner’s name and wait patiently for a response. If there were no response he’d slide down the door, leaning back against it. He’d tell his partner about his day to try and distract them from what was going on in their mind. He’d tell them about the cute kitty he saw on his morning run. How he really wanted to pick her up and bring her home for them to see but figured that the kitties mommy would really miss her if he took her with no warning. He’d tell them about the real cool friend he made while walking around the city who he was pretty sure offered him drugs but it was fun talking to him anyway. As the door would open he wouldn’t ask anything of his partner. He understands more than anyone trauma and the devastating impact it held on the psyche. He understood that people just needed to cry it out sometimes and that his partner was no exception. He’d open his arms and let his partner know if they ever needed him. He was there. Always.

#thank you for the ask!#thank you anon #anon ask #asks always open #metalocalypse headcanons #imagine metalocalypse #metalocalypse #dethklok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #william murderface

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