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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

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Second Thoughts

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.2k words

Summary: Weeks before their wedding, one of them might have second thoughts.

A/N: For days, I have been haunted by this picture of Pedro wearing gold chains and I needed to write this to keep myself from exploding. It’s Pedro’s fault. And I chose Javi for the fic because that slut always has like the first 3 buttons of his shirts undone (like a whore, jezebel, harlot) and it drives me mad to see his neck. Anyway, enjoy 😉

“What’s this?” He took the cigarette back between his fingers to ask. It was his customary post-sex smoke. Something he couldn’t give up on, much like his customary workplace smoke, road rage smoke, morning smoke, post-lunch smoke— you got the idea.

“A dildo.”

Javi looked up at her, eyebrows raised and lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t as impressed by her attempt at a joke as she was. But then again, the man was known for his eternal grumpy face. He could be offered a lifetime supply of free whiskey and he would still look like someone ran his dog over.

She rolled her eyes at him. For a man employed by the US government to go after Pablo Escobar, he sure was dumb.

“What does it look like, Pendejo? It’s a gold chain. For you. Happy birthday,” she snapped, pushing the present into his hands.

His brown eyes softened as he took her hand and rubbed circles on her wrist with his thumb. “Querida…you shouldn’t be spending all this money on me. I don’t even wear jewelry.”

“It’s a gift, Javier. And I know you don’t wear jewelry. I just think you should be.”

“Oh?” He asked, head tilted and eyebrows knitting together in curiosity.

“Mhmm. Let me explain to you in terms that your male brain would understand,” she said, getting on her knees on their bed and setting them on either side of his thighs. He looked incredibly beautiful in the dim lighting of their bedroom, golden skin made more gold by the warm streetlights. His hand that was not holding his present came up to her back, his touch gentle despite the rough calluses he’d earned with his years on the force.

She brought her index finger to his chest and traced his collarbones. He had beautiful skin, no matter the scars and the sunspots from all his days running around in the Medellin streets under the sun.

“Seeing you wearing a gold chain would do to me what seeing me in lingerie does to you. It’s like a little sneak peek of what’s inside, you know? Especially because you are a slut who forgets that the top three buttons of your shirts exist and I can see your chest all the goddamn time. It’s a little tease of what lies underneath.”

“Ahh…”

“Finally. He gets it.”

“‘s like seeing your lace bra and a bit of cleavage. I like the cleavage more, but the lace adds to it,” he said, hand lazily grazing the curve of her ass. There was nothing sexual about it or their nudity. They’d already gone at it like rabbits and were done for the night. But it was good to stay bare with him, her lack of urge to cover up adding to the easy intimacy they slipped into post sex.

“Exactly,” she said, taking the gold chain from him. She straddled his lap and looped the gift around his neck before clasping the ends together. He watched quietly, his stoic expression cracking through to reveal a smile when she pulled him towards herself by the chain.

Through lazy pecks of her lips, he said, “So it’s a leash, I see?”

“Maybe,” she smiled as she pulled away. She licked her lips as she took in the sight of him, congratulating herself mentally. It looked better on him than she thought it would. His body was already fucking perfect, well-toned, but the chain made it sexier somehow. The way it sat around his neck and bent when it touched his clavicle, the light hitting it beautifully to highlight it against the pink flush of his skin.

“Looks good,” she added, fingering the cold metal.

“If you say so, Jefa,” he said before taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Well I do say so,” she said, reaching to the back and pulling the pendant to the front to rest on his chest. He looked down at the pendant, eyebrows raised as though surprised to find it there. He took it between his fingers and squinted at the letters engraved on it. Her initials.

“Marking me, I see?”

“Sure… You gave me a diamond ring and I felt bad I didn’t give you anything, so…”

“It’s not traditional for women to give their fiancé something. You didn’t have to feel bad.”

“I know,” she said, tracing her initials.

“Hmm, can’t wait until the wedding to let everyone know I’m taken?”

“Suuure,” she said, rolling her eyes before getting off his lap and sitting next to him. “If that makes you feel better about being tied down to one woman forever, Javier.”

“It’s a woman who lets me tie her down to my bed, so…” he trailed, brushing his mustache with him thumb and giving her a once over.

“You sound worried…” he said, turning to get a better view of her. She kept her eyes on her lap, afraid that looking at him would be confirmation in his eyes if this worry he’d caught so easily.

She wasn’t worried. Or so she liked to think. When he got on one knee, she was a little surprised. One, they’d only been dating for a year. Two, she didn’t think he was the marrying kind. The first words out of her mouth weren’t Oh my God or a resounding Yes. It was a hesitant Are you sure?

When she visited his hometown Laredo with him to meet his Papa and his extended family and friends, she had more reason for unease. A neighbor just not so casually dropped the secret that he’d once been engaged to someone else, someone he left at the altar before moving to Colombia.

“You’re so brave, giving our Javi a chance after what he did to poor Lorraine.”

“What did he do to…? Who is Lorraine?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Figures. She was his fiancée. Left her at the altar. The poor girl.”

Lorraine had reassured her that everything was alright, even implying that she was glad she didn’t have the bad luck of ending up with Javier. It was an immature Javier from many years ago, she’d said as much. He wouldn’t do that again. He made mistakes, but never made the same mistake twice. Or that is what she told herself. It didn’t stop her from thinking of the worst case scenarios— Javi leaving her at the altar, a future divorce, Javi getting bored with her and cheating. He wasn’t the cheating kind despite his reputation as a manwhore. But rational thought never stopped anxieties.

“You sure you want to get married?” She asked, letting her insecurity shine through. It was better than the alternative.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” he said, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “It’s good you asked me because I didn’t even think about that when I took a good chunk of my savings and spent it on a diamond ring that lost half its value once I left the store. I just bought it on a whim and had no choice but to get on one knee, profess my undying love for you in the restaurant we met and ask you to marry me.”

You asked Lorraine too!

She swallowed her words, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Are you sure? Because this isn’t the first time you’re asking me that,” he said, the sarcastic tone finally leaving for a more serious one. She nodded and when he looked unconvinced, she said, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“I know I haven’t given much time into planning a proper wedding. It’s not that I don’t want one,” he said, taking her left hand and playing with her engagement ring. “It’d be nice, with both our families there. But it’ll take time and I just can’t wait. It’s a dangerous job, you know that. And you decided to be with me anyway.”

His other hand cupped her cheek, his brown eyes revealing the depth of his heart for once. There was always a softness to them with their deep color and the downward turn of their outer corners.

“If I’m going to keep you in danger by virtue of being attached to me, I figured I should take the plunge, commit fully. If… I know it’s not great to hear it, but…” he sighed before rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “If something were to happen to me, I want you to be my next of kin. For any medical decisions, visitation rights, survivor benefits if…You wouldn’t have those rights over me if I was just your boyfriend.”

“If that’s the only reason you’re marrying me…”

“Of course not. I’m marrying you because I know I want to spend my life with you. But if this isn’t the life you want…the danger, the anxiety, the missed anniversaries and birthdays,” he said pausing before he continued, “potential of widowhood.”

Her hand closed around his and he held her back, his hold tight and reassuring in its firmness. She pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth and leaned into his chest. “If you have any doubts, there is still time.” She heard him swallow before he spoke again. “I’m willing to make more time if you need it. We could push the wedding, you can take as long as you need. It’s a big ask— marriage. So if you want to say…if you want to change your mind, you have every right. I won’t… no hard feelings.”

“Pobrecito…” she cooed before placing a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t have doubts. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

She felt him exhale. His eyes closed and he nodded. “Okay.”

“It would be too late anyway. Had I thought of it before we started dating, when it was just sex…maybe I would’ve left you,” she chuckled, fidgeting with the loose threats coming off their thin blanket. “But I’m in too deep now. The damage to my soul in leaving you would be far greater than anything that could happen if we stayed together. We hit a point of no return long back and now I just can’t be without you.”

Something like gratitude crossed his deep brown eyes. His eyebrows raised and his tight expressions softened. His large hand came up to cradle her face. “I can’t be without you,” he echoed, voice rich with emotion. His thumb traced her bottom lip before he leaned in. She kissed him eagerly, gentle yet passionate as they poured their anxieties and fears into the kiss. Slow and languid pecks decorated her lips and then her face.

“I was lying…”

“Hmm?”

“When I said there would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind. I was lying.”

She chuckled against his lips, placing one last kiss before pulling away. “Oh yeah?” She asked and he nodded. He held her close, not allowing her to leave his embrace.

“I would be so upset.”

“Good to know,” she said, curling a finger around his gold chain and pulling him close. His lips stretched into a grin and he gladly went where she took him. He leaned in, hoping for a kiss, but she dropped his chain and pushed him off by his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her and she simply smiled.

“You look so handsome when you smile,” she said, bringing her thumb up to his mustache, caressing the prickly hairs.

“Mhmm?” He asked, his smile morphing into a smirk. She slapped his cheek lightly and he laughed before he flipped it to a frown. “Not like that. Don’t look smug.”

“My naked wife is on my bed telling me I’m handsome and I’m not supposed to look smug?”

“Wife?” She squinted at him. “I’m not your wife yet. Keep that smug smile up and I might change my mind.”

“Oh? Didn’t you just say you weren’t changing your mind? That you were in too deep for that.”

“Yeah, that was before I realized I was marrying a liar. You kiss your fiancée with that lying mouth, Javier?”

“Oh I do more than kiss her with my lying mouth,” he quipped before getting off the bed and pulling her down the bed by her ankles. She squealed at the sudden movement, lifting her head up to find him on his knees on the floor by her legs.

The smug smile she asked him to get rid of was present and glowing more than ever. He spread her legs wider than necessary. His eyes narrowed at where her thighs met and he licked his lips, sending a shiver through her. It was maddening, the effect he had on her. She’d had him multiple times in several different positions that night. She’d put on lingerie and taken him over and over until he couldn’t anymore, until her body was covered in evidence of his presence and satisfaction settled in her heart. But here she was, a mere half hour later, desiring him again.

Spread out obscenely for him, his wide chest in between her legs, she wondered how she looked to him. If it really was such a sight that it made his eyes glaze over with lust.

“Mi esposa… Estás tan guapa así,” he praised, peppering kisses up her thigh. Her heart beat for him, faster and faster with each kiss that brought his lips closer to where she needed him most. She brought a hand to his messy curls, caressing the strands she’d pulled at just a little while back.

She groaned as he moved to her other thigh, skipping her pussy that was dripping anew with her arousal, blending with both their cum from when they last made love. He dipped a finger in, coating the tip white before bringing it between his lips.

“We taste so fucking good together, baby,” he said, pushing his finger in, deeper this time. Her pussy squelched from its wetness as he pushed in and out, the white liquid flowing out of her. He bent his head down between her legs, licking up her excess, not wasting a drop of it. He gave her a few pumps before he withdrew, making her whine.

Hovering over her, he smeared the liquid on her swollen lips. His birthday present hung from his neck, gravity bringing the cold metal into contact with her own neck. God, this was what she was hoping for when she bought it for him.

Before she could lick her lips, he brought his pretty pink ones to hers. She moaned, both from the sensation of his lips on hers and the realization of how dirty it was to be kissing with their cum from between her legs coating her lips. The man was certainly creative in the plans he cooked up to defile her. There were men who refused to even kiss her after she sucked their cock and there was Javi, tasting his own release on her lips.

She parted her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide in. She moaned into his mouth as she tasted their combined release on his lips and his tongue. She played with his hair, untangling the knots she’d left there from tugging at it. The smell of sex filled her senses as he pulled back and breathed out of his mouth. One hand played with her breast, covered in bite marks and hickeys from his greed, while the other reached back between her legs and fucked her with two fingers instead of one, his large digits stretching her out in preparation for him.

“So fucking gorgeous, fuuuck!” He cursed, taking in her expressions as he circled her clit. “Thought I’d just taste you again. But you got me hard again. What’s this, round four for the night? Look what you do to me,” he said, taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock. He guided her hand up and down his hardening cock, making her stroke his length in his hand.

“Have me fuckin’ addicted to this cunt, baby. You can’t have second thoughts now. You’re not allowed, not even if I say you can rethink this. You think I’ll let go of pussy this good? Hmm?” He asked, withdrawing from her pussy and bringing his fingers up to his lips. He plunged them between his lips and licked it up with a moan. “Don’t be fooled by how good I take care of you. I’m a selfish man. You can’t give me aaaall this,” he said, hands roaming her body and stopping to knead her breasts. “and think I’ll be all selfless and give it up.”

She shivered from his words and arched into his touch, pushing her tits into his hands. “I was being kind and fucking stupid ‘cause I thought you might want to reconsider marriage. But I’ve got you, don’t I?” He taunted, collecting what was left of them from between her legs before bringing his fingers up to her line of sight.

“I’ve got you, all for myself. No woman who comes like this for her man will think of settling for anything else,” he said before smearing it on her face. She stroked his cock faster, relishing in how he screwed his eyes shut from her touches. She brought her thumb up to the tip of his cock, swiping up the bead of precum. She brought it to her lips and tasted him, maintaining eye-contact with the man hovering over him.

“All mine… Look at you, so fucking filthy with cum on your face. You do that for your boyfriends?” He mocked, putting down all the other men she’d let touch her before him. She shook her head, speechless as she devoured what was in front of her. She lined him up with her cunt, allowing him to push in. The fervor of his words sunk into her with his cock and she wrapped around him, warm, wet and greedy.

He was fucking beautiful— messy ink black hair falling over his forehead, soft brown eyes, neatly trimmed mustache, pretty pink lips and her initials in a gold rectangle swinging from his neck. She reached up and pushed his hair back and placed a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t always understand words, was stunned by her confessions of love, of the need to spend eternity in his arms. She knew he struggled with words, saw how much courage it took him to say I love you the first few times he did. Te quiero came easy to him, having grown up saying the words to his parents, but te amo was like moving a boulder uphill.

He spoke words of love with much more ease now, he told her he couldn’t wait the duration it took to plan a wedding to finally be her husband, told her he wanted her to be his next of kin, that she could change her mind even though he didn’t want her to. He made himself better with words. For her. Because he knew when she smiled at her book it was because of a ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you’. When she read to him ‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more’, his breath hitched as he asked her to read the sentence once again before he confessed it was how he felt about her.

While he’d gotten so much better with his words, she liked to meet him in the middle, speak his language- touch. He understood touch— her gentle hand pushing his hair back and her lips on his forehead. He understood her hips rising up to meet his slow thrusts.

“‘Y’know, fiancée pussy is good. Better than girlfriend pussy. Bet married pussy will be miles better,” he said, making her tighten around him. “You like thinking about that? When you’re all mine to do with as I wish…”

“You need a piece of—” she stopped to hiss from how his body made contact with her clit. “Y-you need papers from the fucking government to make me all yours? Thought you didn’t go by the books, Agent Peña. You are already mine, husband or not. You’ve been mine since I— hnnng!” Her words devolved into muddled sounds as he forced himself in her harder.

“Can’t talk? I shut that mouth up, huh? Try to say you might not marry me and I’ll shut you up just like this,” he scolded, pinching her nipple between his fingers and letting go to knead her breast in his large hand. “Pissed me off so bad, I wanna drag you to the fucking embassy right now and make you my fucking wife.”

His thrusts grew harder and his dangling necklace swung back and forth, grazing her chin before swinging away only to hit right back. Exactly what she pictured. It was a pretty sight, forehead covered in sweat, errant locks of hair sticking to it and eyes glazed with lust, all for her. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his back and pulling him closer to herself as she struggled to meet the vigor of his thrusts. As much as she wanted him, she wasn’t as fit as a man who hunted other men for a living.

His physical prowess thrilled her, made her writhe underneath him. She ran her nails down his back, preparing him for how she would sink them into his back once again when he brought her to her peak. His muscles felt glorious under her fingers. She visualized each bulge and dip, pictured them with the scars she’d already left on his back and the scars she would give him. She moved her hand to his shoulder and then down his arm, licking her lips as it registered how fucking muscular he was, how he could crush her with them but chose instead to hold her, to love her.

As his thrusts grew more erratic and his breathing uneven, she knew he was getting close. His chain went from swinging against her to resting on her as he lied atop her and his thrusts got short. She moaned at the weight of him, aroused by how bulky he was. So beautiful and so goddamn muscular and all hers. He buried his face in her neck and filled her up with his cum, moaning her name before crumbling on top of her.

She felt him softening inside her. He slowly came to, kissing her neck before sliding down her body.

“What’re you doing?” She mumbled, fatigue settling into her worn out body. He looked up from where he slithered down, eyes still ferocious with hunger. How the fuck was this man still horny?

“Still haven’t shown you what else I do with my lying mouth,” he said, kissing down her belly and stopping at her cunt to give it a lick. She shuddered.

“Baby, ‘m sleepy…”

“‘s okay, you sleep. I’ll just get a taste here. Need to make you come.”

“You’ve made me cum many times already. I’m perfectly content.”

“I’m not. I need this pussy again,” he begged, flattening his tongue against her cunt. She hissed, sensitive from their night of passion, but grabbed him by his hair and pushed herself up into his face. “Thank you, ma’am,” he groaned into her, making her giggle.

“You’re such a whore, Javier,” she teased, still laughing. He gave her one more lick before he looked up at her with a shit-eating grin.

“You know what they say- you can take a man out of a whore but you can never take whore out of a man.”

“What does that even mean?” She asked, chest rising and falling from laughter.

“It means…” he trailed before licking his cum dripping out of her. He moved to her clit and sucked it between his lips, the pressure having her whining. Her hips jutted up instinctively, but he pushed her back down to the bed with a firm yet gentle hand on her belly. A minute of licking and sucking from his expert mouth and she came undone for him, thighs shaking and back arching before she fell back on the bed. He placed one final kiss on her mound before he lied back neck to her.

Javier and their blanket wrapped around her, she sighed in contentment.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

“Oh…” she said, trying to not let her frown show. She’d planned a fun day out for him because he was supposed to have this Sunday off. Sightseeing, birthday cake and more birthday sex. But their plans were always written in water.

“I’m expecting intel from Helena tomorrow,” he said, caressing her arm. “If I’m right, if what she says matches my suspicions, the guys and I will join Carillo in Medellin. If things go well, I won’t be home until right before the wedding.”

“Well, then I better not see your ass in Bogota before our wedding day,” she said, earning herself a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you…umm, for the gift. I… it’s nice,” he membled awkwardly. His arms pulled her in tighter and his lips pressed on her temple before she gave in to sleep. When she woke up, there was no evidence of the passions of her night other than the rumpled sheets and the soreness between her legs.

Series Masterlist

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fic #javier peña fluff #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x you #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #domestic javier peña #javier pena narcos #narcos smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #all that i've inflicted on the world

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ashwhowrites · 7 months

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Older! Rockstar! Eddie x reader doing a Halloween party just with their friends, and Reader dressing up like a sexy vampire and Eddie being a vampire, and he just wants the party to end just to be with his girl

Happy October! A fun and sexy Halloween blurb. Thank you for requesting <3

"Baby, can you tie this?" Y/N sighed, giving up as she couldn't tie it correctly. She stood in front of the mirror. A tight dark red corset, a heart shape to advance the look of her chest. A black bow in the center, and a black lace flow at the bottom. Almost like a small dress. Her legs are covered in black fishnets and red heels are on her feet. Her hair was curled and messy, with winged eyeliner and red lips. Fake blood dripping out of the corner of her mouth.

Eddie appeared behind her. Dressed as a vampire as well. A black shirt, left unbuttoned, with fake blood dripping down his chest. Black pants and a red cape thrown on his back. Fangs in his mouth as he smirked at her.

"You look good enough to eat." He teased, nipping at her neck with his fangs.

"Alright, Dracula. We need to hurry, help me." She teased. Eddie sighed and began to tie her corset. His eyes bounced between watching his hands and her reflection in the mirror.

"Do we have to go? I think we can have our party right here." Eddie whispered, kissing her bare shoulder lightly. His hands wrapped around her stomach, his right hand sliding down the front of her dress, lifting it as he rubbed her clit softly over her fishnets and underwear. She moaned but quickly grabbed his hand. Stepping out of his arms.

"It's Gareth's party. Yes, we have to go. He's your best friend and bandmate." Y/N said, turning around to take Eddie in. Her eyes eyeing his bare chest.

"Seems like you are occupied with something else as well," Eddie smirked, Y/N rolled her eyes and looked up at him. She smiled at him and walked around him. Grabbing her cape she threw it on.

"Let's go!"

~~~

The party was loud and packed when they walked in. Eddie held her hand as he dragged her through the rooms.

"HE WOULDN'T EVEN NOTICE IF WE WERE HERE OR NOT," Eddie yelled over his shoulder, Y/N rolled her eyes and followed behind him.

"YOU'LL SURVIVE!" she yelled back.

When they made it outside to Gareth's huge backyard, they spotted him.

"You made it!" Gareth cheered, dressed as a werewolf as he hugged Eddie.

"This must be your girl! It's nice to meet you." Gareth said, shaking her hand as he took her in. He whistled and gave Eddie an approved nod.

"So Y/N, mind if I ask if you truly are into vampires or want to try a werewolf?" Gareth joked, Eddie punched his arm.

"Haha, funny!" He growled, wrapping his arm around Y/N.

"Calm down, Grandpa. Just a joke. You guys look great together and I hope you have a good time " Gareth said, heading inside.

"Grandpa? How rude." Eddie pouted.

"Well Dracula is quite old....that's why I always had a crush on him." Y/N teased, a smirk as she grabbed Eddie's open shirt to bring him closer to her.

"Plus vampires are way sexier than a dog." Her voice was low as she felt his chest underneath her fingernails. Eddie shivered as he felt himself getting turned on.

"Can we please just go back home?" Eddie pleaded, his hands landing on her ass and giving it a squeeze.

"Just a few hours then I'm all yours." She promised, kissing his lips.

Throughout the night Eddie was losing his patience. Her body was against his as they danced, his brain clouded by her smell. The looks of all the young guys her age staring at her in disbelief. In so many ways Eddie loved how he was older than her, he hated growing up and losing the youth. But the look on the young boy's faces when he got to show them she was all his, made him feel amazing.

She got drunk as the night went on, her hands having no control as she traveled down into his pants. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her right in front of everyone. Let the little boys see how a man does it, but he respected her.

"We gotta go home to do that." Eddie said into her ear, holding her hands as she tried to claw into his pants again.

"No time. Bathroom or car. Give me something." She whined, her tongue on his neck. Eddie didn't have to be asked twice, dragging her back to his car.

Happy Halloween to him

Further reading:

#i promise i'm not actually this weird about Mika #ensemble stars #enstars-sexyperson-polls #poll propaganda #mika kagehira #mishka🍬#enstars

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batsforbadones · 1 year

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creepypasta headcanons (from a slasher blog? more likely than you think)

I know you all didn’t follow me for Creepypasta content but I didn’t want to make a new account, and I need to get some head canons across. also I picked the tumblerest aesthetic image i could find for each one to really channel that energy.

trying to get a feel for them, be easy plz. I haven’t written for them in years.

Based on the fandom perceptions of the creepypastas rather than real lore.

TW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE/ SA/ ED/ SH JEFF THE KILLER

-Mega Mall Goth ass beat. Listens compulsively to Marilyn Manson. Had a third wave sexuality experience when KILL4ME was released. -Addicted to Heroin because he thinks it makes him sexier. Has extreme delusions of grandeur. Believes he’s a new age god that is meant to be worshipped- Essentially believes he’s some form of reincarnated Aphrodite. In actuality its more like the modern day Narcissus, or Dorian Gray, suffering constantly with a news cast image of himself that he just sees getting uglier and uglier -”They never get my fucking smile right. I swear they’re editing it- They’re like, fucking editing it-” -Severe Body Dysmorphia. He can’t perceive his body. He can barely perceive his face when he’s in the process of healing. It’s all lacquer to him- Iridescent. He doesn't view this as a bad thing, but on the rare occasion he can perceive his body, he’s disgusted, and mutilates it in an attempt to repurpose what he views as simply “an unfavorable medium” -Very into body mods. He views his smile this way- further perfecting a craft. He has piercings and the ink and the works- Most shops don't blind twice about his appearance, often applauding the look. -Contrary to his living legend, Jeff was neve able to fully burn off his lids. He tried, and just ended up nuking his lashes. He does find that lack of hair to be appealing, though, and often keeps the rest of his body, save for his head, in a similar shape. A lot of it struggles to grow hair because of the scar tissue anyways. -Never got the chance to grow out of his edgy, 14, and deep phase. Curses compulsively. With every breathe the word Fuck, Bastard, Cunt, Bitch, or some other new fun word will come spilling out. -Chronically straight. like, obsessively straight. Very into the most typical looking women because ‘metal is a mans topic’ (he literally only knows 4 Metallica songs) and if he very much has that ‘they’re too easy to manipulate’ -He’s always chronically chasing women he can’t have.

EYELESS JACK

-Daddy Kink Haver. Proper dominant, educated man. -I think he’d be older. Not Hannibal. This isn't about Hannibal. Jack is more breakable, pliable. He’s demanding and domineering, and he sneers and snaps his teeth like a dog. He bites in bed. He pulls hair. He’s borderline animalistic when he consumes, and yet surgical and steel when he slices. -He doesn’t prepare meals. He eats it raw. He’d find the flavor- the specialty of the meat to be tainted by spices and herbs. He just needs the meat. -Complex form of OCD. He doesn't need to be clean. He’s not really put together. He’s got a five o’clock shadow, a hoodie that smells like copper, and a bizarre itch in his own kidneys. If he doesn’t remove someone's, he’ll be forced to remove his own- And he only has the left one left. -Tall. Not wide. Lean. He’s got a cock that drags across the ground. Uncircumcised. And he walks with the tilt to prove it. -And he sweats, and groans, and there’s this sense about him that he’s only living off adrenaline and coke. -A severe sadist. The kidney eating has little to nothing to do with this. Those are urges in his organs. The choice to get a medical PHD has everything to do with this, though. Watching people writhing on gurneys when they come in for emergency? Gorgeous. Erection driving. -Also, has a PHD. It’s DOCTOR Eyeless Jack to you. -Goes by Eyeless Jack purely due to a newspaper misprint and a well placed note. He committed an act of enucleation, and instead of the multiple missing kidneys from previous LIVING victims, he’s only known for this? Humans are so weirddddd.

TICCI TOBY

-A lot quieter than he’s made out to be, only really mumbling out things here and there- however, notably, when he’s loud hes l o u d. -The better descriptor of how he behaves would be self harmingly neurotic. Sometimes other harmingly neurotic. Charmingly, neurotic. His neurosis has very little to do with his tourettes. It has everything to do with his mania. He’s always on an upper, and the way he moves proves it. He’s borderline animalistic with his motions. He doesnt walk anywhere, he either bolts or stomps. He finds urges to burn things a little too frequently- -If you both to get close enough without his mask on, you’ll see that he’s actually mumbling--- all the time. It’s almost like a consistent chitter of his teeth. Like a weird, fucked up rattle. -One of his main tics is pulling his jaw scar. It’s a hook motion, and he yanks down and it leaves the area constantly raw. He would prefer to not speak, but then again, he isn’t really given the option. -He tweets like a bird. “WooHoo~” -A consistent problem with his schizo-affective ass is that he’s subjective to equally grandiose delusions when having episodes. Like Jeff, he often finds himself gagging on the kitchen floor, struggling to cope with the fact that he’s disgustingly mortal. Like, Jeff is- bad- Toby’s consciously bad. It’s like the second he became aware of Slenderman being-- real- any form of humanity drained from him. It’s not like he had a disorder to blame it on anymore. A real dude was just-- making him act like this. It wasn’t in his head, what was he to do against an eldritch horror? -lays... incredible pipe. Insane levels of pipe. He’s hypersexual with the audacity to have a thing for anal. He’s awful. awful. He can go for hours- -But its not like he feels anything. He struggles to feel anything emotionally to begin with- and physically, literally. -The act of sex is bizarrely calming to him. Rhythmic. It’s like a hypnotic form of self care for him. He can zone out for hours- It’s not like he becomes aware when he’s rubbed his dick raw- or your internal organs.

#creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #creepypasta smut

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proceduralpassion · 1 year

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Torments

(gif by me, excuse the terrible quality lol)

A/N: I wrote this the night of 10x11 and it's been sitting, collecting unedited cob webs ever since. I finally spruced it up and made it presentable, so here ya go! Kev deserves someone to hold him and tell it's all gonna be okay 🥺

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Wife!Reader

WC: ~1k

Warning(s): angsty af, discussions of dysfunctional familial relationships

The house was quiet when he walked in. There was light coming from upstairs but he leaned his back against the front door and stood in the darkness. The mute shadows that surrounded him mirrored the hollow feeling in his chest. There were unfinished emotions resting in his spirit and he sighed a heavy breath, wondering if he should unleash them from his depths or stuff them back down, much like he did with a lot of his torments.

It was already late when he left the precinct, so late that he knew that he missed dinner, but his mind was already set on stopping by his building to make sure there was an adequate unit for his father. He’d call and hire someone in the morning to clean it up and put some furniture in it, but he couldn’t bear to go to sleep tonight without verifying that his father would have somewhere safe to go, once he got out of the halfway house.

He’s not sure how long he stood there, with his head against the door, but it lifts upright when he hears footsteps descending the stairs.

“Kev?” Your voice eked out carefully.

“Yeah, it’s me, baby.”

He met you at the last step and you both wrapped your arms around each other tightly. You feel that his weight is heavier tonight and know that today wasn’t a good day. Instead of acknowledging it, you guide him into the kitchen, “I left your food in the microwave, let me heat it up.”

He follows you silently, his head still leaned on your shoulder as he walks behind you with his hands on your hips. You lean into his embrace as the timer counts down until the egg rolls and fried rice are ready. Still, no words are spoken. You say nothing as his arms wrap tighter around you.

This is how it went with the two of you. He was a proud man and it wasn’t always easy for him to spill his emotions out to you. You were dogged in your pursuit for the truth, in your mission to heal his afflictions the way he always did for you, without question. There was a silent compromise in the way that neither of you spoke. Time was a pact, the equalizer that told him that you wouldn’t push and that he wouldn’t suppress.

You two sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, ankles linking against each other under the table.

Always touching, the two of you.

He offered his plate to share, but you only took one bite out of an egg roll before shifting the dish back in front of him. Your ring shines against the glint of the light above and your eyes can’t help but jump to his. Like you did all the thousands of other times you saw that golden piece of metal surrounding his finger, you smile and your heart flutters. He catches the simper and his shoulders shake in a hushed chuckle.

“I’m sorry, that ring will always be the sexiest thing you will ever wear,” you always say.

“Even sexier than the chain?”

“Damn. Can’t forget about the chain.”

You two don’t actually say the words aloud like you usually do, but the back and forth is wordlessly exchanged through your eyes. A language that only two people in the universe will ever be fluent in.

When he finishes his plate, you go to grab it, but he swipes it away before you can and rises to head to the dishwasher. He loads the plate and fork and then detours to the fridge to grab something out of it.

He hands you your half-eaten dark chocolate bar and sits. You offer it, he leans over to only one bite out of it before pushing it back into your hand. And so, now you’re the one who eats quietly because you know that your husband is ready to talk, but still needs a moment to gather his thoughts.

You finish your chocolate, enjoying the crunch of almond in the last morsel and Kevin reaches for your hand.

“I got him a place to stay in the building.”

You nodded, not saying anything, allowing him the space to release whatever he's holding.

“I don’t know… I’m just still so… angry. I’m happy he’s out. He’s safe. But he had all this time to reach out. To make amends. And the best he can come up with for an excuse is his pride?”

His voice still creaked with emotion, much like before, when he let his dad have it at the precinct. He thinks about Jordan and Vinessa and even at his most frustrated, he couldn’t bear to think of not showing up for them whenever they needed. It may not have been fair to him, raising two kids when he was barely an adult himself, but he still couldn’t even fathom letting them down in any way. So how could the man that sired three children allow anything to hold him back from rushing back to them, from picking up the pieces of a long broken family?

Your second hand reaches around to wrap around his and you lean closer to him, allowing your foreheads to rest on each other’s.

“I feel like I can’t even be too mad at him. Because I don’t know what he went through. What he had to get through to survive all those years on the inside… Maybe he wouldn’t have made it if he was too weighed down by thoughts of us.”

You speak for the first time.

“You just hate that it was you and the kids that were weighing him down.”

With glassiness in his eyes, he nods.

You rise from your seat and rest in his lap, nestling his head against your chest, caressing the back of his neck. He heaves a deep breath and bundles closer into you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

You hold him tight as his shoulders shake, allowing him to find solace in your embrace. A safe haven so he can mourn for the time lost. And forgive for what wasn’t his fault.

As always, like and reblog if you enjoyed. Thanks for the love 💖

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @ginghampearlsnsweettea @jackburtonsays @justahopelessssromantic

#chicago pd #kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater x black reader #<- it's really for anyone but i always write with black!reader in my mind #kevin atwater x wife! reader

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liminalmemories21 · 4 months

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Does this one light the spark plug lim? 👀

Early days, between S1 and S2 - Carlos takes TK to his favorite art gallery in Austin 👀

He's half listening to Lexi talk about the new frontier of trying to date during COVID when it occurs to him that they've never gone on a date - him and TK, not him and Lexi. He pauses halfway to taking a bite of his sandwich and Lexi stops talking to stare at him. "I didn't know you cared that much Reyes."

He rolls his eyes at her because he's been her emergency get out of a bad date call more than once, and she grins. "What'd you just remember? Did you leave the milk out?"

He shakes his head. "I realized I've never taken TK on a date."

She lifts her eyebrows. "TK, your boyfriend? That TK?" She takes another bite of her sandwich. "You landed that without a date? Tell me your ways, Oh Mystical One."

He huffs a breath. "I don't recommend our process." She make a skeptical noise, and then a call comes in for them over the radio and the discussion gets shelved.

He thinks about it on the way home though. They'd gone to darts at the bar, and that was kind of a date. Sort of. But also not really. And, more specifically they haven't gone on a date since they became official, since they lay on the hood of his car and TK took his hand and called them a team. The 126 comes over to his condo for game night, and he's been to the Strand's for dinner with TK's parents, and TK sleeps in his bed more nights than he doesn't, but they've never gone on a date. There are reasons. The world shut down barely a week after the solar flares hit, and even if there'd been anywhere to go they'd both been too exhausted and too haunted by the world falling apart around them to even think about a date.

But things have settled now, some at least. COVID is still the headline in the newspaper every day, but it's possible to think about something else now, just making it though the shift doesn't require every part of his energy anymore. He has the breathing room to think about a date.

He hasn't exactly been on enough dates to have a usual. And, none of the things that are traditional date material are really an option at the moment anyway. All the restaurants he'd daydreamed about taking TK to are still take-out only, and even if he wanted to take TK to a club on a date - which he doesn't, he wants a different kind of intimate - they're closed.

It leaves him stuck for days, thinking it over while he patrols. It isn't until he's idling at a traffic light outside the LINE hotel staring up at the Women's Votes mural that he has a stroke of genius. He remembers early - when every moment with TK over lunch or dinner at taco stands felt stolen and chancy - the way that TK would stop to look at any gratified street art they came past, the way he'd cock his head and pause.

It takes him another week to figure it out, and then another week to wait for a day when they're both off with no commitments. He won't tell TK where they're going or what they're doing, just tells him it's a surprise, and to wear comfortable shoes.

TK spends the evening trying to wheedle and then seduce it out of him, and Carlos devotes himself to fucking him until TK's barely able to remember his name. He feeds TK scrambled eggs and buttered toast and grapefruit for breakfast and does not let the way TK moans around buttery bread distract him from his plans for the day.

He drives them across the South Congress bridge and eases his car into a space just barely large enough to fit it, and flushes when TK whistles low. "Nothing sexier than a man who can parallel park in one move, baby."

They wander down South Congress hand-in hand, detouring down side streets as they catch a glimpse of color that promises a hidden treasure. They pause for coffee, and then for nachos, and then ice cream. TK stops to say hello to almost every dog they pass, and hoists two small children up so that they can write a wish on the Chalkboard on Elizabeth Street and Carlos trades helplessly charmed smiles with their mother. She leans against a tree watching and says quietly. "He's a keeper."

He nods agreement. "That's the plan."

It's winding into late afternoon by the time they make it back to the car, footsore and a little burned from the late autumn sun. TK waits until they're in the car before he leans over the gearshift to kiss Carlos slow and soft. It's not chaste, but it's sweet and heavy with an emotion neither one of them has named out loud yet but he thinks they both feel.

When he pulls back Carlos licks his lips, chasing the taste of TK and the tamarind jarritos he'd bought on the way back to the car. "Does that mean it was a good date?"

TK rubs a thumb over his cheekbone. "Best last first date I ever hope to go on."

#tarlos #911 lonestar #writing prompt

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internetgremlin-writes · 2 years

Note

Passionate sexy times with carlos after he comes back to the hotel drenched with champagne 🥵🔥

When I say you're about to get SEVERAL versions of this... I don't even care this man deserves the world I will write him winning A THOUSAND TIMES OVER (also the gifs from today aren't in yet so bare with)

@hnmaga-blog here is one hopefully BEFORE you sleep!

Warning: SMUT

im actually so overwhelmed with all this im struggling to sit still and write so I've got the highlights on for the race I've just watched lmao

You had screamed yourself hoarse. Hands clasped so tightly your nails had made small crescents in your skin, as red as the garage you were sat in, your eyes locked on that screen. You didn't remember even breathing during that last safety car. You'd been bouncing on the balls of your heals, mumbling half of prayers to every god you could imagine, and some you were sure you'd just made up.

And then it happened.

He sailed past his teammate, took his lead back and held onto it like a dog with a bone. And you watched, screaming, shouting, sobbing as the chequered flag waved and Carlos Sainz, your Carlos, became an F1 Winner. You felt like you were erupting, your entire body splintering as you burst with joy and pride and relief and a million other emotions that you couldn't name as you turned his mother who had the same look on her face and sobbed freely onto her shoulder.

You didn't stop crying through the entire podium ceremony. Everyone saw Carlos as this new man. New confidence, power, and control over the car. The Carlos who had finally settled into Ferrari and was proving everyone wrong. You didn't. You saw the teenager you'd grown up with. You saw the Carlos who'd just gotten into his first race car, not a go-kart, who'd come away with a P5 and ran at you, cheeks flush and grin big as he assured his best friend that he was going to win a Formula 1 race one day.

The look he gave you when he finally found you in the crowd was identical. And then he was grinning at you and winking and your stomach dropped to the floor because you knew what was coming next.

It didn't help that you didn't think you'd seen anyone look sexier drenched in champagne. With his image blown up on the screens behind him, you could see every curl of his hair that was plastered to his neck, the flush on his cheeks, and the smile that really, truly reached his eyes.

You'd finally stopped crying. He had a lot of media duties now, and then team debrief and photos and lord only knows what else. You knew you had some time. You slipped back to the garage, finding yourself sidling up to Rupert with a horribly poor acting job of feigning tiredness and asking for Carlos' spare hotel room key. There was no way Rupert believed you were tired, but he handed you the key with a knowing look in his eye.

Your relationship wasn't exactly a secret, you'd been best friends since childhood; your father a British rally driver who had competed with Carlos Sainz Sr which had evolved into a longstanding family friendship. You spent your teenage years going through phases of crushes on the Spaniard. In your early twenties it started as a mortally embarrassing hook-up after a night of drinking that was perhaps a bit too soon following a messy break-up of yours. And then that hook-up turned into casual sex on the rare occasions you saw each other - nothing more than two young, hot people letting off some steam. The casual hook-ups turned into him inviting you to his races, getting dinners before, and staying for whole weekends. During a challenge video he did with Torro Rosso, he let slip that his 'girlfriend' wouldn't have been impressed with his poor attempts at cooking.

You'd called him that night and asked, with a cold dread in your stomach you tried to ignore, whether his girlfriend was currently in a hotel he'd paid for close to the track for the next race weekend. He'd said yes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and that was it. You were Carlos' girlfriend. You never really went public with the news, he just started appearing more on your social media and you on his - and the fans put the puzzle together pretty quickly.

Once in the hotel you changed into a dress you'd brought with you- just in case. It wasn't really a dress, more a virtually see-through slip with lace stained a deep, dark red.

You only had to wait an hour before you heard the familiar fumbling of the door handle and Carlos stumbled into the room, a faraway grin still on his face. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you grin fading from his face and something hungry stealing over his eyes.

He was still in his race suit and first place cap, the trophy in one hand and champagne bottle in the other. You could see the fabric of it was still soaked, shining. You could smell the alcohol on him. He placed the prizes reverently on the desk, trophy beside bottle beside cap, which he took off and gently folded before shaking his hair out. It was wet, black and shiny and sticking up in all directions.

"What is this?" He asked, slowly approaching you and gesturing at your outfit. You shrugged at him, a languid smile of red lipstick breaking out across your features.

"What? You can't handle one more prize?" His eyes visibly darkened, his grin becoming wolfish as he stole towards you.

"It depends," he stood directly in front of you, fingers toying with one of the spaghetti straps holding your outfit up, before drawing it down and over your shoulder with ease. Just his fingers grazing your skin was enough to make you shiver. "Do I have to share this podium?" His race suit hit the floor and he stepped out of it, already pulling the fireproof top over his head and allowing it to join the pile.

"This one's all yours, you earned it,"

That was all it took for Carlos to lunge at you, pinning you to the bed as he kissed you with something you'd never felt before. It was electric, charged with liquid serotonin. You didn't think you'd ever experience anything so pure and so filthy so simultaneously. He was groaning into your mouth as you pulled on the knots formed in his wet hair, your hands grappling to touch him everywhere you could.

You found yourself laughing into his mouth as his tongue slipped into yours at the same time you realised his skin was damp, everywhere. He pulled back, watching you, amused.

"What?" You'd not heard him sound so light. So happy and carefree and joyful in so long. It was like a breath of fresh air that made you fall in love with him all over again.

"You're soaking wet!" That made him laugh, collapsing his weight onto your chest as you felt hot puffs of air in your neck, making you squirm below him. He quietened, pressing kissing along the vast expanse of exposed skin that was your chest. His hand was sliding along your thigh, making its way all the way up until you could feel him so close to where you wanted him so badly.

"I'm supposed to say that to you, no?" Before you could say anything you felt his finger dip between your folds, swiping experimentally. He raised an eyebrow at you when he realised you weren't wearing any underwear. His grin faded to a smirk. "Ah, but so are you," he held his hand up, and you could see his fingers glistening in the low light.

"You looked so good up there," you murmured, arching your back to press your chest against his. He groaned appreciatively, at your words or the way you were pushing the waistband of his fireproofs and boxers down, you weren't sure. His head dropped into the space of your neck as you wrapped a hand around him and started to move lazily, enjoying the way he responded to you with a shudder and a guttural noise.

"I was thinking about this in my interviews," he admitted, a guilty smile and what you thought might have been a blush creeping across his features as he bucked into your hand once more. He cast a glance over his shoulder, to where his small pile of treasure was sat on the desk, which struck you with an idea.

He gave a small moan as you slid out from underneath him.

"What?"

You didn't say anything as you moved, deliberately swaying your hips far more than usual as you crossed the room, turning to him with a devilish grin on your lips. You elegantly lifted yourself up, seating yourself directly beside his trophy and allowing your legs to fall open.

"You should be able to see your winnings," Carlos looked like he's died and gone to heaven, all too eager to rush over and have you in his arms once more, kissing you feverishly, urgently.

"I love you," he mumbled against your lips "You're the best prize," you were a little distracted, he was standing so close that he was brushing against your clit, sending small shockwaves down your spine.

"I love you too,"

He hesitated as you reached down, lining him up with your entrance, you gave him a quizzical look.

"But I haven't-" you kissed his cheek.

"I warmed up before you got here," you admitted. Carlos loved to make sure you were fully seen to before he even thought of having sex with you. Usually, you loved how attentive he was to you, but today, well today the only thing you wanted to celebrate was him and okay - so the image of him soaked to the skin in champagne on that podium had been enough to get you going so much so that waiting for him to come back had been a little too long. Carlos must have appreciated the gesture because he almost growled as he pushed into you.

"Dios Mio, I will never forget how good you feel," he groaned into your neck, beginning to build pace. You were gripping his shoulder, knowing full well your nails would be marking his skin but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You'd waited so long for this moment that the euphoria of it all building rapidly within you and you felt your stomach tightening already. Carlos had one hand on your hip and the other, you noticed, was gripping the base of his trophy.

"My winner," you purred into his ear, knowing exactly what he needed to hear.

"Be careful," his voice was low, strained and dangerous. "If you want to-" Carlos was unable to finish his sentence for you were already gone, your walls clenching around him as your head fell back, calling his name repeatedly in bliss. Carlos shuddered, his entire body stilling as you felt him come with you, his lips pressed against yours in one last burning kiss as your hands knotted in his hair to keep you grounded to him.

He stilled, his hand on your hip becoming an arm wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him. You pecked his lips, only pulling away enough so that your foreheads were pressed together.

"Congratulations, Carlos,"

He was still breathing too heavily to speak, his eyes closed and eyelashes spread across the top of his cheeks as he nodded against you. He was still smiling.

"Celebrate with me in the shower?"

You grinned at his thoughts, knowing exactly where this night was heading, and that you'd only just scratched the surface of the celebrations to come.

#first one #sorry that took longer than i expected it took me a minute to organise my thoughts lol #anyway congrats carlos u deserve the absolute WORLD #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #f1 #formula one #silverstone 2022 #british gp 2022

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shopcat · 11 months

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what is your favourite steve hcs like who the ultimate steve in your eyes is

oh man so easy. he's the most autistic on earth. to me. also think he's transmasc and like importantly ☝️ i also think he's comfortable with it :) for some reason (cis) ppl i think just cannot fathom a story of a "unexpected" chara being some level of i guess stealth trans and not in the depths of drama and pain about it bc they literally will only ever use us to fetishise or exploit us they don't like actually care for any level of normality and average trans existence because we literally just can't live ... normal lives ... steve harrington can't be transgender to them bc that's more unbelievable that he once SHOOK OFF a concussion. OR inversely like, him being trans can't depth or symbolism. i just think he is cuz it's fun it's the most fun ever he's literally The guy of the show he's The fan service and the cool action hero and the silly comic relief love interest-with-no-love-interest him being a literal self made trans man rules and is cool and hot and makes him sexier in every way <3 and honestly yeah ESPECIALLY in the time period bc ... trans... people have always existed... Even in small towns... crazy‼️

other than that i like most interations of The transgenderism. i think he and robin share pronouns at some point in their lives. i think he wears glasses to read but i also think he's always worn glasses and just hid it. i like the migraine thing bc i get migraines.. many of my friends think he's jewish on his mom's side generally nonpracticing and i think that rules insanely and is real forever now. also italian bc that's awesome. i think he can cook and he learnt using his mom like box of recipe cards that were passed down from his grandma i also think he's close with all his grandparents bc that's sweet and i like to think his grandma on his mom's side lives in a nearby city and he can visit her whenever and it's awesome there

ummm i think he's scared of dogs bc of the demodogs anything above the like calf and he will Not be entering the abode ❌ and he owns like 6 or 7 cats just a crazy amount of cats bc there was a feral colony behind his house and he looked after them and started reintroducing them to the indoors and he's Incredibly determined to spay neuter and rehome when possible every feral cat in all of hawkins post mews's death he like makes it his mission bc he's like um what if there's more dogs or something they're literally unsafe.. there's monsters afoot.. i need to save them in the depths of his upside down recovery moment when he had like no friends other than dustin and nothing else to do and it grew from there. he can't volunteer at the animal place tho bc There's doggies there ... i also think he eventually gets over the dog thing bc i like the idea of wayne owning a doberman or rottie or mastiff or something and through introduction to her he becomes more comfortable through the power of LOVE ‼️

also bc of that i like the idea of him going into some sort of animal rehabilitation or forestry thing i want him in the woods running around. wearing khaki shorts and boots with a zinc stripe on his nose. UGH. and specifically i want him to work with kids or just people in general somehow bc it can get potentially lonely in some of those jobs i think he is the top contender for like a day camp counsellor or even a sleep away if those exist in indiana .. all of this also wraps up into the whole taking his cpr cert or doing a first aid/emt course. also i can just picture him being like And here's the lake where a lake monster nearly drowned me. yeah. isn't that awesome. it's because i wasn't wearing a life jacket he preys on kids without life jackets.

erm. i also think he likes gardening esp food bc it branches into his cooking thing but it would take a couple years to build any of this up current age steve harrington is born to be a minimum wage princess who lays on people's basement floors and makes out with stoners and paints robins nails horribly. and reads magazines. and steals food from people. he is my beautiful loser and rep for every 20 year old layabout who doesn't know what they're doing in life. And he likes boys.

#asks #not what you asked for i don't think but where my heart went ❤️#sts

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hellcatinnc · 4 months

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A Girl & Her Guard Dog Anime Review

Includes Spoilers

First off I want to mention I have watched all the first season of the show but also read the manga. I would suggest reading the manga if you can't wait and see if they make another season. However I can say I know some say that anime's leave alot out I can honestly say the only thing left out was the manga had a little bit more of a naughtier side I thing like nothing extravagant but I swear you see Keiya with out his shirt more often in the manga than the show. Its so little thought you wouldn't much notice it. As the ending of the anime talks about how he talked to her friends about their love life in the manga its funny because you actually see two young girls lash into a 26 year old man and him practically bow down to them due to him wanting to be everything Isaku's wants.

On to the show I love this show its really a guilty pleasure fluff piece to me. Yes there is a age gap but it doesn't both me especially since in japan the age she is doesn't effect anything. Not to mention I think its beautiful he loves her so much. I do think the anime did a good approach to the end of this show though. It gave you flashbacks of everything he and her had been through that led them to be together. You got to see how much they both loved each other but you also got to see the way he looked at her changed over time. Not only that but going into it you only hear him say he will be her mother and father and even her brother. But in the ending they continued the rest of that day where he told her he would be whatever she needed even though he wasn't blood he would protect her. This means he said what he said to comfort her in everything she needed in life and he wanted to be that person she loved and needed most.

It might sound creepy to some but I honestly think it was beautiful. I mean yes he didn't know how to love maybe the same way she did but that is because I think he has been so in love with her he wanted to hold her and be intimate without thinkin of her age and experience. To me I see it as a reaction you love someone you want to be as intimate as possible, however that was the only thing that wasn't getting in Keiya's head because he was so excited to be with her for her to feel for him even a ounce of what he felt he went over board. She is alot more reserved to I mean even in the manga its not like they have slept together after like 40 some chapters. It is a slow burn love story and some it might annoy due to that. I normally don't care for slow burn but if the characters are likable enough I will stick through it and I loved both Isaku and Keiya.

Its light hearted and even though there is some violence I mean come on he is a yakuza body guard, even with that I would say its milder. Like there is a episode she is kidnapped but he never lets them get to far to take her back. He gets shot and he shoots someone as well at a point. The only thing thats a warning I would say is there is a guy who claims he is going to rape her in front of Keiya to hurt him, granted it never gets that far but you do see him cut all the way down her shirt and you never see soo much. That even is in the anime its touched on but never fully goes into it because of her reaction and Keiya's that shuts this shit down. I love Keiya's response though he can't really touch the guy without causing ruckus however he comes at Isaku again and all bets are off he plainly just told the mans keeper that he would kill him.

Honestly it really is a touching story that brings them together and watches them fall in love. Their loves may not be exact but they can learn from each other. I will say though I feel like Keiya has a sexier edge to him like a yakuza would have in the anime and I feel like he can be more aloof and not the smartest in the manga actually pretty dense at times, my opinion I prefer the anime version of him better.

#anime #shoujo #shoujo anime #a girl and her guard dog #a girl & her guard dog #anime review #reviews #review #utou keiya #senagaki isaku #isaku senagaki #keiya utou

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

Text

Hurt and Protect

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Warnings: violence, bloodshed, Joel being a murderer, dub-con, mentions of drug use, choking, public nudity, sex in public, exhibitionism, slapping, hitting, moneyshot.)

Word count: 2.3k words

Summary: In a world where politeness wasn’t part of trade, it helped to have someone like Joel Miller as your protector. But to be his to protect also meant being his to hurt.

A/N: This is my first attempt at second person pov. I think this is the worst thing I have written in terms of things that will get me a VIP pass into hell. There is so much shit here like damn. So, please read the warnings above for anything that you might not like. I’m ashamed and will need 15-20 business days to recover from my shame. I hope it’s worth it lol

“Throw in your bitch and I’ll get you those 50 extra pills.”

As far as last words went, that was…unique. You stood aside, unable to do anything but watch as Joel pummeled the guy with his fist. Although, you had to say you wouldn’t stop him if you were able. The man’s trade offer angered you enough that you would have shot him yourself. But it wasn’t wise to kill your suppliers.

Watching Joel beat him up was an entirely different thing. It felt good to have a protector, an attack dog who would pounce at any threats to you even if you were perfectly capable of defending yourself. It must be why Tess kept him around. She pointed in a direction and he walked, she identified a guy and he killed. And now he was doing something similar for you. You hadn’t asked, but Jesus he was doing it just for you.

He was a sight when filled with rage. You had nothing else to compare it to of course. Rage was one of the only things decorating his features other than agony, shame and emptiness. You licked your lips as he grunted from the effort as his fist connected with the man’s head. The man’s screaming had quietened a while ago, but he didn’t stop. Jaw clenched, teeth gritted and face splattered with blood, he continued, pouring out every bit of fire he had in his eyes into the man.

As though it wasn’t enough, he retrieved his knife from its sheath and stabbed it through the man’s chest. The blade went in easily and it was then that he finally looked up from his victim and at you. Rage transformed into something else, something still dangerous but somehow sexier, you realized as you found your hand reaching between your jeans. You rubbed yourself through your thick jeans, the stitches joining the fabric in the middle seated perfectly to get some traction.

On Joel’s other side stood the man’s friend— no, associate. There were no friends in this world. He took a few steps back when Joel’s attention turned to him. But he didn’t run, seemingly frozen in place by the sheer power of Joel’s fury. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide when Joel Miller had his sights on you. It was as good as a bullet in your skull to just be targeted by him.

A crowd began forming around you, watching in morbid fascination the murder of two men. It only made you rub faster, your eyes trained on how he caught the guy by his collar and slammed him against the wall. You felt a sick jealousy growing inside you. You wanted him to do that to you, to slam you against a wall and hurt you in front of a crowd. You would beg for it if he asked you to.

The man who'd made it a habit to eye you like a piece of meat ever since you’d started trading with him looked at you. You smiled, relishing in the fear in his eyes. The number of times you’ve had to stay awake with a gun in your hand in your own apartment because you feared men like him and what they wanted to do… It was nothing short of bliss to see one of those men tremble in fear like you did, waking up from nightmares of what they promised they would do to you. “Please, please. I’m sorry— ask him to stop, plea—aaaaaah!” his begging turned into screaming as Joel’s bloodied fist connected with his face.

Joel looked towards you and smiled a sinister smile and you mewled as though it were his hands instead of his eyes touching you. His knee connected to the man’s crotch and he screamed for his god and his mother, neither alive to stop the atrocity. There was only man and the horrors he was capable of when society collapsed.

Joel’s eyes never left you as you touched yourself. He knew what his violence did to you and he was going to make every motherfucker that dared to ask for you a victim in his hunger to see what the world had done to you.

This wasn’t you before everything. You’d dated nice men who opened the door and pulled out your chair and were instantly loved by your family. Now… You wanted the likes of Joel who killed men with his bare fists for you, who would watch as you touched yourself to his violence in front of a crowd of your neighbors.

Joel pulled the half-conscious man off the wall by his shirt and slammed him back on it. Hard. The man let out a pitiful whine that was overpowered by Joel’s grunts and groans. As the man hit the wall again, Joel’s large hand around his throat, you moaned your protector’s name. He palmed his growing cock through his jeans, his lustful eyes set on you before he bent down to pull his knife out of his first victim. A little gasp was all that was heard when the blade pierced through the man’s jugular.

He pulled the knife out of the dead flesh, the blade and the handle now both a dark red from the lives it had taken. He pointed the knife at you and spoke, panting from his efforts, “Strip.”

You obeyed.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a few people shuffling away. Parents with kids mainly. It was funny how they would watch men being murdered with their kids like it was the morning cartoon but this was where they drew the line.

You shook as you pulled your boots off and then your jeans and panties. Joel unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, making no effort to take his clothes off. With your jacket, shirt and ratty bra joining the pile of clothes, you were completely naked for Joel and the Boston QZ. A few heads peeked out of windows in nearby buildings, their curiosity piqued by the noise.

He approached you, his blood soaked hand going directly to your cunt. Two large fingers pushed in without any warning and you whined at the sudden intrusion. You clenched around him, pulling him to you as though he was what you needed to be alive. Like he was air. Like he was water.

Joel was a man of few words and that didn’t change when he fucked. He wiped the bloody knife on your skin with practiced motions, careful not to cut you. Although you wouldn't have complained if he drew blood. He could take everything he wanted from you and you would beg him to take more, to take and take and leave you empty for him to fill you up with his needs and desires, for him to mold you into anything he wanted.

You found yourself on the floor, debris poking into your back as he hovered over you. The dead men lied on either side of you but you had eyes only for Joel, for his hunger and his lust. You moaned his name as he entered you with force, giving you no warnings to prepare for his length. You cried as you burned from how he stretched you out. You attempted to kick your legs, but his weight atop you meant that you couldn’t move an inch. You were truly trapped underneath him, your fate entirely in his hands.

You were fully willing, yet he brought the knife to your neck. He placed the sharp edge of the blade at the base of your throat and you should’ve cried but you moaned his name. You were immobile underneath him, doing nothing to further your own pleasure or his. You just laid there, a cunt in place of his fist as he rutted into you. The sounds that slipped out of your lips were not your own, we’re not even human. But he seemed to like it, pounding you in the exact same angle that made you cry so.

Images of him punching the men entered your mind and you clenched around his cock. “Hit me,” you begged. “Plea—” your cheeks stung and your head turned to the other side as he slapped you. You didn’t have to ask again. His hand struck your cheek again and again and— it burned and it hurt so good and he must’ve known from the way you tightened around him that you needed it. Needed to be violated on the streets surrounded by strangers, friends and the men he’d killed in your name.

Sounds of his quick breaths filled your ears and it had your mind reeling. It shouldn’t be possible for just the sounds of someone’s breaths to fill you up with such intense lust. But this was Joel. And it was beginning to make sense. The reason for your sickening need for the violent man. The sounds of his breaths were the same as the ones when he killed and tortured. His sounds in moments of passion— both carnal and animal were the same…

His hand came around your throat and squeezed hard. More blood on your skin. Wherever he touched, he left evidence of what he was capable of. There was no technique, no care for your safety as his hand squeezed and relaxed at a pace most pleasurable for him. Just what he wanted and how your cunt tightened around him when you struggled to breathe. If you had to breathe your last breath because it made his dick feel good for a moment, it wouldn’t bother him. It didn’t surprise you that you were unbothered by it.

His hand around your throat felt just as good as the heroin he injected into your veins to help you sleep— part of your payment for accompanying him on dangerous trips out of the QZ, trips that didn’t necessitate someone as strong as Tess. Your moan combined with the lewd squelching of your cunt around Joel’s cock.

Your legs kicked out, the gravel and stones scratching, diggin in, drawing blood. You became lost in the feeling of it all- the euphoric sensation of his hand around your throat, the stretch of your cunt around his cock, the safety of being Joel Miller’s, the knowledge that everyone in Boston now knew what you were. It all became too much to bear, pushing you over as you found a high you would forever chase in drugs only to realize that he was the only one who could provide it to you. It was the moment he made you his, whether or not he wanted to own you.

His hand left your throat in search of the next piece of your flesh he could use for himself as you gasped, drawing in every bit of air that you could. His hand found your tits, alternating abuses between the two as he pinched, slapped and mauled the flesh. His hands wrapped around your tits, using them for purchase as he pounded into you, the force pressing you hard against the ground.

The world returned around you as the haze of your orgasm dissipated to provide some clarity. More men were left in the crowd than women. Some had their hands on their crotch as they used your humiliation to satiate their needs. If Joel wasn’t occupied with you, those men would lose their hands. Potentially more. It should scare you, the eyes of so many men, many with the worst intentions, pleasuring themselves to your body. But it didn’t. It was now well established that you were Joel’s. There didn’t need to be a label of friend, fuckbuddy or girlfriend to give you the protection that belonging to such a man did. You would not be spoken to rudely again. You wouldn’t have to fear late night knocks on your apartment door. Not even a fool would ask for his use of your body as a tool in negotiation.

Joel pulled out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing at the loss of him. In the few minutes he had filled you up, he’d made your body forget what it was like to not be wrapped around him. His loss felt like the withdrawal between periods of finding the drugs you needed. You cried his name and your fingernails lodged themselves in his back as you attempted to push him back on yourself. But he moved up your body, stopping with his cock over your face. You gasped at the sight of his length coated in your slick, shocked that you’d been able to take all of him. He pumped his cock a few times before he came, spurting ropes of his cum. The red on your face mixed with his release.

It only took him seconds to recover. He tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans up, restoring his dignity as you laid bare for the city to watch. He collected his equipment from around the ruins of you and the men he killed for you- guns, knife and both your backpacks. He bent over and grabbed you, pulling you to your feet by the strength of just one arm.

You stumbled, but he grabbed you by your hair before you fell. Doors and windows shut as realization dawned on the residents of the Boston QZ that their heads would roll if Joel’s thirst for blood hadn’t been satiated for the day. The crowd began to disperse. The audience ran in the opposite direction as Joel paraded you through the streets, on full display for anyone who thought they could speak to you the way the men had spoken. It was a warning— this is mine and mine only.

His to hurt. His to protect.

Read more of my Pedro Pascal character fics

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