#tonight I was sitting on the edge of my bed and putting all the empty wrappers around it in a cup

[handern]

dumbest fucking sleepwalking keeps happening this is the tenth time I find myself out of bed and cleaning my fucking flat with lights on and all like hello? can't I just rest? like a normal person?

#tonight I was sitting on the edge of my bed and putting all the empty wrappers around it in a cup #and it took me a whole minute to realize and stop #like hello it's 3am and we haven't had a full night sleep in a week stop that now #babbles blabbles #it's EMBARRASSING bc I sleep w the windows open due to the heat so everyone outside can see me

[wintfleur]

ꔫ lavender and vanilla

°. — pairings ( Oscar piastri x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( oscar was such a good boyfriend, he always took such good care of you. Now it’s your turn to take care of him and help him relax after a stressful day )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; kissing, slightly suggestive at the end. wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I came up with the whole plot in the shower listening to ‘motions’ by Naomi Scott, I highly recommend giving the song a listen, her music is so good and sooo underrated. Is anyone a doctor? Because I need my mind to be cleaned from all the Oscar brain rot I have…I can’t focus on anything but him! ˙ᵕ˙ )

“Keep on going to the daylight, if it feels right” you sang along to one of your favorite songs, your voice echoing through the lavish hotel bathroom. You didn’t have to worry about being quiet since you were the only one in the room, and you knew that neighboring hotel rooms were empty, the occupants all at the track. It was a late Thursday, and from the text you received a few minutes ago from your boyfriend, you knew he would be walking through the front door of the room; any minute now and you couldn't wait anymore. 

You missed your boyfriend dearly, you had stayed at the hotel all day only going out a few times to get some things, while he was stuck at the track for press conferences and getting ready for Friday and the weekend. You knew by the time Oscar walked through those doors he would be absolutely exhausted, he hated having to do media. Hours earlier you laid in bed wearing one of Oscars hoodie, breathing in his scent and wishing he was there to keep you warm instead. 

You had been scrolling through your phone, looking through all the pictures of you and him. There were some pictures of you and him when the two of you were younger-and strictly just friends. Then pictures of the two of you on the dates and vacations he would take you on, you were so happy. He took such good care of you, and now that's all you wanted to do. So, you got out of bed, got dressed and went out to get some things for tonight. Determined to have tonight be relaxing for your boyfriend. 

And now here you are hours later, sitting on the edge of the huge bathtub watching as the hot water fills up the tub and mixes with some of the lavender oil you put in. The scent of the lavender water and the few vanilla scented candles you had placed around the bathroom created the perfect aroma. The cold edge of the tub caused goosebumps to appear on your thighs, your body just itching to get in the hot water.

You heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and opening and the faint sound of your boyfriend calling your name. A big smile spreads on your watermelon Chapstick flavored lips (his favorite) and you quickly shut off the water before basically skipping out of the bathroom and into the large room. Your eyes immediately go to the bed where you see your boyfriend's back, his shoulders sagged as he dropped his phone and keys on the bed, his backpack on the ground. 

Oscar quickly turns to face you when he hears your footsteps, a smile appearing on his tired face at the sight of you. He had also missed you dearly. He had only a few seconds to get a good look at you before you threw yourself in his arms, your arms around his neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Oscar nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a deep breath and taking in the smell of your perfume, his favorite smell. 

“Hi pretty girl” he mumbled into your neck, his tone showing how tired he was. He pulled as close to him as he could, his hands massaging your hips. 

“Hi handsome” you beamed, your hands trailing down his arms as you pulled away from the hug. Oscar kept his hands on your hips as you took a step back, his eyes took in the sight of you. You were wearing a pair of green silk shorts that stopped in the middle of your thighs, and a matching camisole. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, you looked absolutely beautiful. 

“Look at you, all dolled up for me?” Oscar purred as he moved one of his hands from your waist, to cup your cheek; his thumb caressing your cheekbone softly. You leaned your face against his hand before whispering sweetly “I have a lot more for you to.” 

Oscar raises his eyebrow at your words and a smile adorns his face, curious on what you mean by that. You say nothing as you grab onto his hand and pull him into the bathroom. As he steps into the bathroom, he's hit with the relaxing smell of lavender and vanilla and the soft sound of music playing from your phone. When Oscar sees the filled-up bath, he realizes what you meant, and he can't help but ask “What's all this for?” 

“You always take such good care of me Oscar, i want to take care of you tonight” you expressed softly as you looked lovingly into his eyes, pulling him closer to the hot bath. Oscar smiled at your words, he was so lucky to have such a caring and loving girlfriend like you. Oscar brings your hand he was holding to his face and places a soft kiss on the top of your hand before saying “Well let's not wait any longer then.” 

You giggled at your boyfriend's eager tone, you let go of his hand before taking a step back from him, your hands going to your shorts to get undressed. Oscar takes his focus off you and instead focuses on undressing himself, sneakily looking back at you a few times. Oscar lets out a loud chuckle when he feels you slap him on the back with your top, when you catch his stare on your bare chest. 

You grab your clothes and pick up Oscars that he left on the floor with a roll of your eyes. He had a habit of leaving his clothes in the middle of the floor. You set the clothes on the counter while Oscar slowly sinks into the hot bath. Oscar lets out a heavy breath, his eyes closing as he rolls his shoulders, the hot water and lavender already doing wonders on his tense body. 

You lifted your leg and dipped your toe in the water, testing to see how the water is. It was hot enough to give you tingles, but not too hot for you to want to get out. Oscar lifts his head from leaning back against the edge of the tub and opens his eyes when he feels you slowly sink into the water. You had your back to him, and you were sitting between his legs, the bath was big enough for three, so you had no trouble fitting. 

Oscar let his arms dip under the hot water, where he grabbed onto your waist and pulled you back against him, the water sloshing at the fast movement. You leaned back against him, your head on his chest. Oscar smiled and rested his hands on your lower half, whispering in your ear “Now that's better.” 

You absentmindedly start playing with his fingers as you tilt your head to see him, he was already looking down on you; a smile on his lips, the tense look he had already gone. You were happy to see that. You spoke in a soft tone “is it too hot? I can put in some cold water if it is.” 

“No, it's perfect, don't worry…just like you” he trailed off into a whisper at the end, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you got from his words. You look forward and watch the dancing flames coming from the gas fireplace that was in the wall. The two of you relaxed in silence, and you silently debated if you should ask him what's been stressing him out lately. You have known Oscar for a long time, so you were quick to realize that something has been bothering him, and you had an idea it was work related. You wanted to reassure him, but you also didn't want to ruin the moment. 

“What has got you thinking so hard baby?” Your boyfriend's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, one of his hands moving up to softly massage your arm. He could see it in your eyes, that there was something on your mind. Seeing as he noticed, you took that as a sign to ask him about it. 

“I’ve noticed you have been stressed more than usual lately, is everything okay?” 

“Just some race related things, nothing for you to worry about” Oscar spoke in a reassuring tone, he didn't want to bother you with his silly nerves especially since he knew it was over nothing. Oscar's hands absentmindedly trace random patterns on your stomach, his eyes focused on your side profile. 

“I always worry about you osc, you know that” you spoke sweetly as you turned your body slightly to face him more, your leg draping over his leg. Oscar sat up straighter and rested one of his hands on your thigh, softly caressing it. Hoping that you wouldn't notice how red he got from your words, you meant so much to him. 

“I know, but I’d tell you if it was something serious” Oscar promised before placing a kiss on your shoulder, smiling when he sees the goosebumps that form from his touch, placing a few more delicate kisses on your neck. You smile before whispering “Promise?” 

“Pinky promise” Oscar chuckles as he lifts his hand from your thigh and holds out his pinky. You join him in laughter at the sight of his pinky before breaking out into a smile, you interlock your pinky with his. Oscar leans closer to you and takes your lips in a soft kiss, only pulling away to whisper against your lips “I love you.” 

“I love you” You whisper back, bringing your hand up from the water to cup his cheek and capture his lips in a kiss. Oscar was eager to kiss you back, following your lead as you took charge of the kiss. You tilted your head as you deepened the kiss, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and teasingly biting it, causing your boyfriend to moan against your lips. 

Oscar felt himself slipping deep into the kiss, his mind getting foggy at the feeling of your plump lips against his. The feeling of the water dripping down his neck from your hand gave him tingles and he felt his breath being sucked away from you. You rested your palm against his rib cage and slowly pulled away when you felt him pant during the kiss. A small smirk adoring your face at the sight of your flustered and panting boyfriend. 

Oscar still had his eyes closed as he tilted his head back, his lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath. His lips were red from the bruising kiss the two of you shared. If Oscar was stressed before, he definitely wasn’t now because all he could think about was you and your dangerously addictive lips. You felt his chest rise and fall under your hand, you leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on Oscar’s collarbone before turning back around; your back to him. 

You let yourself lean back against Oscar, your knees coming up to your chest and poking out of the water, the cool air hitting your legs causes goosebumps to littler your legs. Oscar—who still had his eyes closed, moved his hands to rest on your stomach again. You closed your eyes as well, finding comfort in being in your lover’s arms. You could tell that the water was starting to get warmer, and the lavender scent was becoming dull, but you weren’t ready to get out yet. 

“Oscarr” you couldn’t help but let out a whine when you feel something poke at your lower back, of course your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to control himself. You glance back at him to see him giving you a sheepish smile, his cheeks red. 

“What? You can't kiss me like that and then expect me not to get hard.” 

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I’m not sure how I feel about this one, it’s kinda rushed at the end but I just really wanted to get this out. but omg Oscar!! I’m so proud of him! He’s absolutely killing it! )

#﹕─┈ roro’s works #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine

[wearywinchester]

Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction

[enyearns]

Bakugou Katsuki: All the Lovers in the Night

in which bakugou keeps you company (even though you never asked for it)

✧ genre: fluff ✧ cw: some swearing! (sorry! my hands are tied, bakugou is a swearer!); also a brief mention of sex (the characters don't do anything remotely promiscuous, it's just mentioned) ✧ wc: 2.1k

song for this read: Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex

a/n: i think, sometimes, we all deserve a tame bakugou. and, i believe that bakugou really can simmer down when he's with you. it's no wonder why you feel safe with him. (i am an avid fan of this kind of bakugou. very avid fan).

You usually fall asleep easily. Really, you could sleep just about anywhere, even if it were on some rocky surface, or even if people were yelling all around you; you would just need five minutes before you’ll completely clock off the world.

But tonight was one of the nights where your mind was needlessly bustling with thoughts. Your body was extremely exhausted, and your mind was at the brink of sanity, yet your spirit couldn’t commit to sleep. You were, frustratingly, tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that eluded you.

You were beginning to feel suffocated and dreadfully alone in your room, so you wrapped your fluffy blanket around your shoulders and grabbed two books, taking off downstairs to the common area. Here it was dark and (unsurprisingly) empty; all the lights had been long turned off and there was no chatter in any corner of the dormitory, but still you felt like you had space to breathe again. 

As you made your way quietly to the couch, you felt comfort in seeing the traces of your classmates scattered around. The cake that Sato had baked (which was beautifully spongy and amazingly sweet) was on the countertop, only a few slices left since you and the other girls had graciously helped yourself to some. On the tables were someone’s textbooks. It was probably Sero and Kirishima’s — you saw the two studying (and chatting loudly) together earlier.

Honestly, it were the little things that made you feel safe again.

You curled up on the couch, turning on the lamp by the edge, and for a few minutes you had deliberated on which book to read. 

On one hand, you could continue reading Crime and Punishment, a fantastic Dostoevsky classic, or you could finish off Olivie Blake’s Alone With You in The Ether. In the end, you decided to put the psychological crime novel aside and opted for the young adult fiction. Where you’re at in C&P right now is boring, what with the chapter centered around the insufferable Katerina Ivanovna. And, to be quite frank, where you’re at mentally isn’t capable of reading through Ivanovna’s self-wallowing dialogue at the moment. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you were pretty invested in the book, reading each line with a curious focus. You were now laying on your stomach, nose buried deep into the book as you kicked your feet and blushed and giggled to yourself. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice that someone had come around. 

In fact, you didn’t notice until you felt a dip on the couch, making you look up curiously. Your eyes locked with a pair of strikingly crimson orbs, which were weary and slightly hazy.

Bakugou looked extremely tired, wearing just a black tank that showed off his biceps, and some plaid pyjama pants. He was holding onto a half-empty glass. “What you reading, nerd?”

You smiled remembering the scene that you’re on, but your cheeks also simultaneously burned. Hopefully Bakugou would not be able to make that out right now, since the lamp only dimly lit the space. “It’s nothing.”

He raised his brow, but he was too tired to pry, concluding the end of their quiet chatter (if this even counts as one). Bakugou made no move to leave. He was just sitting there and staring off into the distance, not saying a word. You, still lying on your stomach facing the boy, would sometimes look up to see what he’s doing, but you were met with the same listless and unreadable expression on his face. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that you were convinced that he was asleep with his eyes wide open. 

But you didn’t urge him to go back to his room to rest, nor did you ask why he was up in the first place. You didn’t want to prompt him to suddenly go away (knowing how easily his mood fluctuates). You enjoyed his company, and, as selfish as it was, you would hate it if he left. 

He eventually stood up (abruptly, to say the least), leaving just as quietly as he arrived. Before you could even let the disappointment stir within you, he came back again having refilled his cup. He had brought you a glass too. 

You gratefully took a few sips and placed the glass cup on the coffee table, mumbling a thank you, to which he just grunted. 

Instead of lying back down on your stomach, you took a risk (Bakugou is a flight risk, honestly) and rested your head on the boy’s lap. You could feel him stiffen under you, and when you looked at him curiously, it was only a moment later before he allowed himself to relax again. 

You smiled to yourself, only slightly, and began to read again. 

“So something’s botherin’ you.”

You lifted your eyes to look at him again. He was looking at you, his eyes still swirling with fatigue, but his brows were creased in concern. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

His frown only deepened. “Too late, ‘cause shit’s already troublin’ me.” You didn’t respond; you don’t really want to get into it right now. He quickly sensed that you weren’t going to tell him anything, so he just let out a soft sigh. “Still haven’t told me what you’re reading.”

You showed him the cover of your book, and he tilted his head to read the title. “‘Alone With You in the Ether’? Sounds corny as shit.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted unhappily, making the boy avert his gaze elsewhere, fighting back the pink that was crawling up his neck. You're cute. “It’s romantic, but it’s also cynical, and the characters are just so miserable…” your lips curved into a smile. “They’re so cute together.”

“You’re just not right in the head.”

“Hey!”

“So then? If you like it, it must be good. Read me a passage, the one you’re at right now, read it.”

You opened your book once more. The book, you were holding it up over your face, was obstructing his view of you, so he looked back ahead. He was ready to listen, in fact, he was listening for something, but he could only feel you fidgeting on his lap. Moments passed with you trying to start, but growing shy and stopping, again and again. Finally having had enough, he looked down at you, quirking his brows for a second time upon seeing you hide your face behind the pages.

“I– I can’t read it…”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and grabbed the book from you, skimming through the two open pages. He felt his body grow hot reading the words, albeit in a blur. It didn’t click for him immediately what you were reading, but it was definitely a… a you know what passage. 

And you got your damn head in his lap right now!!

“I-in my defense, okay, you caught me at a bad time! This is the only one– ugh! Olivie Blake writes it so romantically anyway, so what does it even matter!!” You were flustered beyond repair, and your friend being so obviously at a loss for words wasn’t making you feel any better. So you made a move to lift yourself off him, but Bakugou held your shoulder down. Instead, he reached over you and grabbed your blanket, placing it over your body.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold. You’re always getting cold too, what are you doing not using your damn blanket properly? You wanna get sick? It’s like you wanna get sick!”

Seeing the boy trying to literally cover up for you, his neck, ears and face coated in a furious blush, it made you want to laugh. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have realised that he was just trying to divert his attention, trying to keep the flow going. You smiled up at him, thankful, and continued to read. 

From then on, neither of you exchange another word. He was tired, and he’s never usually up at this hour. He only woke up from his sleep because he suddenly needed to pee, and then he suddenly really needed a drink. It felt like the Sahara Desert in his damned throat. But then he saw you. You looked happy reading, but you were up at this hour, and he knows that that’s usually a tell that you were distressed. 

He felt the sleep starting to overcome him again. He was absentmindedly running his hand through your soft hair (he doesn’t even know when he started doing this), and his arm was propped up on the couch in a relaxed manner. 

Other than you sometimes squealing or gasping (he found it endearing, extremely endearing), it was completely silent. Before he knew it, he fell asleep in that same position, his hand still entangled between your locks.

You were also feeling calm and relaxed, especially under Bakugou’s surprisingly soft touch. Just being in his presence, you felt healed again. It was weird; in the past, you never thought that he would have this effect on you, but here you are now, quickly falling asleep because of his presence, even though sleep was hard to catch for the past few hours. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bakugou was the first to wake. When he lifted his head (slowly), he immediately registered a dull ache in his neck. He was blinking his eyes, gradually getting used to the morning light that now filled the common area. 

He looked around precariously. The TV was on. Sitting somewhere else on the couch, some distance away, were Tokoyami and Mineta. There were also some of his classmates having breakfast in the kitchen. It’s probably somewhere between 7 or 8 right now. 

When he looked back down and saw that you were still sleeping, he felt his muscles relax again. You had curled up into him sometime in the night, your fingers loosely holding onto his shirt. 

It might be the fact that he’s too sleepy right now to fight back the smile muscles, but he couldn’t help the upward turn of his lips as he gazed at you with the fondest of fond expressions. He gently brushed your hair away, admiring your pretty, resting face. 

But of course, the moment’s too good to last. Too good when the other extras are around, at least.

“HE’S AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!!!!”

An irk mark appeared on Bakugou’s forehead just hearing the grapehead’s irritating screech. 

“HOW DARE YOU, BAKUGOU, HAVE A MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS WITH (Y/N)?! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE SACRED BODY OF (Y/N)!!!”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t do nothin’.”

“BAKUGOU’S AWAKE??” Pinky immediately came to the scene of the crime with a sly, sly, sly smirk on her face. She is too damn energetic for this hour, and Bakugou just pinched the bridge of his nose (which, now he realises slightly carries the scent of your shampoo). “WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU TWO????! TELL ME, TELL ME!!!”

“The nerd was reading some stupid novel.”

The others were also curious about the situation and started to crowd around the couch. They did (more or less) wake up to Bakugou and you sleeping together on the couch. How could they NOT be nosy, curious, and most of all, invested??

All this attention just irritated the ash blonde though. “Everyone shut up, she’s still sleeping!”

Mina cooed. “Awww, he cares so much for (y/n)!”

“I FOR ONE BE–”

“Shut the fuck up before I make you all shut the fuck up!!” he growled, lifting his hand menacingly. Sparks were coming out of his hand. It did work on scaring most of them, but Mina and Mineta were much too nosy to be threatened away.

The two were about to continue teasing Bakugou, but he felt you slightly stir, and this made his eyes widen in panic. He brought his hand back down to gently pat your head, all while glaring menacingly at Pinky and Grapehead, and oh, would you look at that, the rest of the Bakusquad were here too, looking at him with the same stupid ooh-la-laa expressions on their stupid faces. 

One more word and I’ll kill you.

“The affectionate petting is really undercutting your tone bro.” (Kirishima was the only one brave enough to point this out). 

“I fuckin’ know! Now scram, the nerd’s still sleepin’ so quit botherin’ us!!”

They eventually cleared because they adore you enough. Mina made a big deal out of it though, booing and showing him not one, but two thumbs down. Sero joined in, doing a i’m watching you gesture with his fingers.

Unluckily (or luckily…?) for Bakugou though, he was stuck in that same position for the next hour. Honestly, he could care less. All that mattered was that you were resting up and feeling safe, because it’s what you deserve. 

He’ll deal with the achy muscles some other time (and maybe he’ll just make you pay for it).

en's chitter-chatter: thanks so much if you made it this far! writing really does get my mind off things, so if this had helped anyone get their minds off things too, that would make me really happy! >//< also, i just want to share the books i've mentioned so far!

Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky) is a russian classic. it's a really good read on destitution, poverty, and the degradation of morality/sanity that the main character (Raskolnikov) experiences in the face of it.

Alone With You in the Ether (Olivie Blake) is a young adult fiction about the unconventional romance between Aldo, a PhD student fascinated by time, and Regan, a counterfeit artist. it's a really short read, and the way the words and dialogue flows is poetic. i really do recommend it! in fact, i can't recommend it enough! ^0^

finally, i'm not sure if anyone caught this, but All the Lovers in the Night is a novel by Mieko Kawakami! it's a japanese contemporary that follows the life of a lonely Fuyuko Irie, who has no one, and quietly grapples with the sudden realisation that she is, in fact, not okay with the absence of human company.

final note: i have a little Uncle!Aizawa thing in my drafts, but (to be truthfully) it stems from a bigger private piece that i’ve got going on. writing about Uncle Aizawa has been very enjoyable; it’s cute and personally makes me smile. i do want to post it, but my aizawa in my universe has a bit of an extra backstory. the family of the main character (aizawa’s niece) is well fleshed out, but i feel that aizawa’s character and backstory would be too OOC to be standalone fics ^^’’ anyways… if you guys are A-OK with a slightly different take on aizawa, i would be more than happy to share it!

until then, that’s all for now! please take care, stay hydrated, and remember to eat well <3

#LMFAO these tags are killing meee #yes please #every tag under the sun please? #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x you #dynamight #kacchan #dynamight x you #dynamight x reader #bakugou my hero academia #bakugo my hero academia #bakugou bnha #bnha #mha

[bedsyandco]

Luke would absolutely finish so fast when he fucks her boobs... he just loves them so much

um okay…don’t look at me🫣idk what this is. and I wrote it on my phone cause my laptop is dead so it needs heavy editing😭 actually do tell me every delicious little detail you liked

it was after they won the big ten championship and luke was riding a high, much like the other guys on the team. the only thing luke wanted to do was celebrate with her.

they were clinging to each other’s side the whole night. from the moment they arrived at the party, luke has had a hand on her, at all times.

she was wearing a skirt and this black little corset top that Luke thought should be thrown away and never to be seen again because he doesn’t know if he can handle seeing her in it again after tonight.

he was sitting on the couch, a drink in his left hand, talking with the guys. violet was leaning against his side, and his arm was thrown over her shoulder, his right hand fidgeting with the “L” pendant around her neck, fingers brushing the top of her breast every now and then, causing her breath to hitch.

violet downs the rest of her drink, putting her empty cup on the open space next to her and turning her body towards luke, her hand going to the nape of his neck, fingers tugging on the curls there as she whispers in his ear, “wanna go upstairs?”

luke’s lips tip up into a sexy little grin, nodding his head and he stands up, pulling her with him and gently nudges her in front of him, keeping his hand on the back of her neck to lead her towards the stairs. his hand falls to hers and this time she’s the one leading him up the stairs, his eyes shamelessly eyeing the way her ass is swinging in her skirt with every step.

when they get to his room, she pushes him onto the edge of the bed, and stands between his legs, his hands cupping the back of her legs and running them up and down.

her hands end up in his hair, tilting his head back as she drops a little kiss to his forehead, then his nose.

“did you take me up here to have your way with me?” luke asks teasingly, his hands moving higher, sliding them under her skirt and just beneath her ass, pulling her even closer until his chin is resting on her stomach, looking up at her.

“and if I did?” she responds, hands going to his hair again, pulling on the curls lightly

“I’d consider myself a very lucky guy,” luke says smirking and she laughs.

Luke presses a kiss to her stomach before sliding his hand down to her knee again and pulling her leg over his hip, and she brings the other one with so she’s straddling him.

Luke’s hands fall to her hips, and she rolls them causing Luke to whimper slightly and he connects their lips together in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to her ass and she rolls her hips again, grinding against him.

she slides her hands underneath his shirt, and up his chest and Luke pulls away so he can tug his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere across the room.

Violet kisses his neck, his collarbone and places a bunch of kisses down his chest and lower stomach, moving down from the bed until she’s kneeling in front of him, sitting between his thighs, and Luke’s eyes drop to her chest, eyes transfixed in the way her cleavage is spilling out of her corset-top.

Violet smiles and teasingly runs her across the top of her breasts before sliding them behind her back and reaching for the zipper on her corset.

“can I try something new?” violet asks coyly and Luke rests his hands behind him, leaning back

“you can do whatever you want to me,” Luke says and Violet feels her cheeks heat up at the way his eyes dropped from hers to her chest and back up

the minute violet starts unzipping the corset-top, luke sits up straight.

“take off your pants,” Violet orders and Luke scrambles to comply, hastily unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off. retaking his seat on the bed in just his boxers and watching as Violet finally lets her top fall to the ground, revealing her breasts and Luke feels his breath catch in his throat as she moves closer and reaches for his boxers.

“can I?” she asks tugging on the waistband and he just nods, lifting his hips, eyes not moving from her exposed breasts, as she pulls his boxers down, discarding them across the room

Violet wraps her hand around him and strokes him a few times, shuffling closer and rising on her knees, she taps luke’s thigh until he moves more to the edge of the bed and lays his dick right in between her breasts and a breath escapes him as she presses her arms against her boobs, pushing them together.

she tilts her head down and lets a string of spit fall from her mouth onto the tip of his dick, pushing her tits together with her hands and moving them up and down his dick.

“holy fuck,” Luke moans, resisting the urge to throw his head back or close his eyes cause he wants to witness, capture and remember this exact moment forever.

“is this- is it…do you need more?” Violet asks a little shyly, not sure if this was enough to get luke there by itself.

“it’s more than enough, it’s almost too much,” luke answers, a little short of breath, his voice hoarse

Luke starts thrusting his hips on his own, Violet only sitting there and letting him use her to get off. that thought turning her on way more than she thought it would.

“violet,” he groans, his hips stuttering a little

“can I?” he asks, referring to the fact that he wants to cum on her tits and she nods, desperate for it, just like him

a few seconds later Luke pulls away, aims his dick towards her chest and spills his cum on her breasts

“you didn’t-“ luke starts but Violet cuts him off

“I’m good. Promise,” Violet says, knowing he wants to argue

he sits there for a few seconds after, catching his breath and admiring his work. he gets up from the bed and cleans himself off, tugging on boxers and shorts before he’s out the door and to the washroom

he comes back a few minutes later with a wet cloth, helping Violet up from her knees and wiping her chest clean. she notices he wipes the same spot multiple times but doesn’t say anything.

he throws the cloth in his laundry hamper and walks towards his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and making his way back to her. pulling the shirt over her head and helping her put her arms through.

Luke gently fixes her “L” necklace that sat askew, kissing it gently before dropping another kiss to her cheek and her forehead.

“you staying the night or do you want me to take you home?” luke asks, pulling her into his chest when he notices how tired she looks

“can I stay the night?” she mumbles into his chest and he smiles slightly, kissing her head

“of course. I’m gonna go grab you some water real quick. you need anything else?” Luke asks

“pain meds please,” she says and he hums, squeezing her tight before disappearing out the door again and she plops down on his bed, “resting her eyes” turning into sleep that Luke happily joined in on once he got back

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ violet + luke ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #🌶️

[underdark-dreams]

Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]

Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)

Wet Behind the Ears

"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me." Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.

Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC

Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]

No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.

“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.

She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.

“Do come in,” she drawled. 

The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.

“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”

“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”  

“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.” 

That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”

“Harper,” answered Irenya.

That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders. 

And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts. 

“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.

Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.

Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.

“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”

As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye. 

If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.

Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.

A soft tap at the door broke her reverie. 

Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.

When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.

Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.

She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.

Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile. 

“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in. 

His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer. 

It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.  

Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”

She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.

“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word. 

“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”

“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”

She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?

“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.

“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?” 

She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.

Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.

At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.

She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”

“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”

“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”

Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”

“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”

“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”

“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.

Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away. 

She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.

“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”

The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.

Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?

As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.

“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.

“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”

She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.

“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots. 

So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.

“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.

His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Vehemently, he shook his head at her.

“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”

“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.

Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.

Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.

Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.

When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.

While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”

Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”

It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”

His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions. 

“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively. 

“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”

From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while. 

She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”

That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.

Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”

She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.

“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.

Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields. 

Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.

As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.

“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.

“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.

“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”

She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation. 

Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.

“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.

“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.

To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.

“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.

He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”

“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”

She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”

“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”

She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.

“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”

He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.

And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.

His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.

She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him. 

Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.

Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.

But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.

“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.

“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.

“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”

Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.

His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.

She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.  

She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?

Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release. 

Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.

“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”

“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.

“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.

That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.

“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.

Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.

For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.

“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”

He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.

He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.

“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”

His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.

With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.    

With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.

“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.

He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.

With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.

“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs. 

It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her. 

Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.

Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own. 

She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.

But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts. 

“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.

With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.

“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.

She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.

After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.

At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.

“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”

“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”

She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”

“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”

He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.

Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.

Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body. 

Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.

After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that. 

As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.

“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”

“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.

She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.

And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.

Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.

“Would you like to go to bed, then?”

His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”

She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning. 

Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”

She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark. 

When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb. 

As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.

She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair. 

“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”

#nsft #bg3 geraldus #harper geraldus #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 spoilers #geraldus x oc #spicy

[shankschewtoy]

Hiii! I hope you're doing great! can I request Sabo, Law, Shanks reacting to their s/o somehow slept on the bath? They thought they were taking to long and got in (Knocking and then walking in) and saw them sleeping and slowly sinking? Take your time! And an advance thanks!

a/n - you don’t know how obsessed I am with this idea anon oh my god- 😭 tysm for this request!! You have been the source of my inspiration!! So thank you for that! 💜

warnings ⚠️ - fem reader, suggestive kinda? Not rlly 😭

- taking a bath with Sabo is literally heaven 😭

- the way he gently scrubs your back leaves you with literally flawless skin

- he washes your hair too, and treats you like the literal queen you are ✨

- so tonight, you decided to ask him to take a bath with him after he finished up his paperwork for the day

- You drew the bath, putting in a lavender scent to set the mood just right, and you stepped into the comfortingly warm water

- it was just the right temperature, perfect

- tonight, his paperwork was taking a lot longer than usual, and you had been sitting in there for around 15 minutes

- the steam that was clogging the room was almost suffocating, why were you so dizzy??

- everything was so- blurry..

- before you knew it, the back of your head hit the edge of the tub as you slowly started sinking into the water

- your cheeks were flushed, breathing labored, your skin glossy and pale, your eyelids glazed

- Sabo ran towards the bathroom, realizing the time that nearly flew by for him

- he knocked on the bathroom door, quickly stripping off his clothes as he opened it to find you steaming, sinking into the water

- panic mode

- “Y/N?! OH MY GOD!”

- he rushed so fast that he tripped on the carpet, his naked ass laying flat on the cold tile as he ran towards you

- he lifted you out of the bath, checking your chest when he realized he had been literally fondling your breasts the entire time

- internally: “WHY ARE THEY SO FUCKING SOFT?!”

- he stopped himself, trying to gently wake you up, taking you out of the room and laying you in front of the fan to cool you off

- his heart was racing, you could hear it from a mile away

- his poor innocent soul was freaking out over how he accidentally “touched you” without your permission and holy shit he was about to go kill himself for it

- your eyes slowly opened and he felt his heart immediately calm down as he squeezed your hand gently with a smile

- “What took you so long Sabo?…”

- he laughed and gave you a hug, his warm body embracing you as he sighed with relief, smelling the lavender which made him even more intoxicated

- “Sorry… I had a lot more work..”

- “I don’t think we should take a bath now-“ -Sabo

- “yeah no shit sherlock.” -you

- "Babe, you're killing all of our noses. Poor benn's gonna go and suffocate because you haven't taken a shower."

- "He's overreacting!''

- "No I'm not." - benn

- When you suggested you would take a bath with him, his face literally lit up with excitement

- he was like a little dog who was about to go on the best walk of his life

- you went to go get the water ready, using some of his favorite shampoo and soap to spoil your red-haired boyfriend

- you stepped into the warm water, and the temperature was just right

- Unknown to you, shanks had already fallen asleep again on the bed, snoring away peacefully with a half-empty alcohol bottle in hand

- minutes passed, soon it had been 15 since you'd gotten into the water, and you were already starting to feel a bit light-headed

- the steam that blurred your vision wasn't helping at all, your cheeks were pink, your eyes glassy as they closed

- you slowly started sinking into the warm water, and oh god, if shanks didn't wake up soon, you probably would make the bathtub your early grave

- the bottle slipped out of his hands, the shattering of the glass waking him up as he sat up almost immediately

- He saw the light from the bathroom and he called out your name a couple times before walking towards the bathroom, taking off his shirt

- "Sorry- I fell asl- Y/N?! OH GOD!"

- cue his internal monologue about how stupid he was for falling asleep

- He literally started slipping on the floor as he lifted your body up with his arm, carrying you out of the bath and starting to try and wake you up

- He was literally about to have a heart attack at 39- lmao

- When you started coughing, you don't even know how relieved he was, he could feel his heart start to beat normally again

- "Dummy- why were you just sinking?!" -him

- "What do you mean?! You're the one who took forever!"

- "I- ok- fine- sorry.."

- "And you still smell like absolute shit." - you (pls he smells literally so bad- like alcohol and weird old fish)

a/n - omg this idea as literal perfection anon-

#shanks x reader #shanks #one piece x reader #akagami no shanks #shanks x y/n #red haired shanks #shanks one piece #sabo headcanons #sabo x reader #sabo x y/n #sabo x you #shanks x you #sabo one piece #sabo the revolutionary #one piece sabo #op sabo #revolutionary sabo #red hair shanks #op shanks #one piece headcanons #op headcanons

[huffelpuff210]

Only mine Part 2 Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent reader

Only Mine Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader

Steve looked everywhere at this party, but found you no where, He decided to give up his search coming home disappointed and empty handed, The next day was spring break everyone leaving for home, or going on some sort of vacation, Steve was walking toward the coffee shop you frequented when he seen your room mate leaving the dorm, listening to the conversation. 

“You sure y/n? I feel bad leaving you when you are battling a terrible cold.” She says holding the phone to her ear as she opens her car door throwing some of her stuff in the back of the car, 

“Fine but if you get any worse see a doctor I would hate for you to die on me while I’m on vacation.” She chuckles getting in the car and starting it, 

Steve grew concerned He looks at the dorm, He knew which dorm room was yours following you home a few nights ago, He knew this was his chance, tonight was when everyone was gone, and you were alone, He decided he would come back then, He already had the key to your dorm, All he had to do was take it from the office, He smirked knowing tonight was when he was going to get his girl. 

You sat on the couch covered in a blanket, a tissue box on the nearby end table, you were too tired to even make yourself any sort of food, You were pretty sure you had the flu, You barley had any energy to even go to the bathroom, Your cough hurt extremely bad, You thought you were dying too tired to even move off the couch, the show you were watching you were barely paying attention, 

You take some of the medicine to help you can feel yourself getting tired as your heavy eyelids slowly flutter shut, 

The sound of your door shutting echoed in your ears but you could not bring yourself to open your eyes you just assumed that it was just Jessica coming back for something, but soon you felt someone stroke your cheek. 

Steve slowly made his way through your dorm room finding you fast asleep on the couch, he rampaged through your dresser grabbing some of your clothes putting them in a bag, He walked over to you stroking your cheek with his knuckles, 

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll take care of you..” He whispered 

Scooping you up in his arms. carrying you out of your dorm, 

Your heavy eyelids slowly flutter open, and You notice you are no longer on the couch in your dorm, You slowly sit up and notice the room was massive, the bed was huge, the room looked modern with gray walls, the sheets and bedding were white, the bed frame was a thick wood with bed posts, 

The door opens revealing Professor Rogers with a tray of soup and a glass of orange juice. you were extremely confused.

“Professor?” Your voice comes out raspy 

“Please doll, call me Steve since we’re going to be spending some time together.” He says 

He sets the tray on the top of a dresser, that looks like it was carved from a tree, 

He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling your forehead, his hand cold to the touch, 

“Still have a fever, I guess that’s what happens when you have no one to take care of you,” He says with a smile tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

You were confused, 

“How did I get here?” You asked trying to get out of bed but he pushed you down 

“I brought you here and you need to stay in bed.” He says 

“Professor I need to get back home.” You say trying to get out of bed again But he quickly pushes you down again. But this time anger fills his eyes and he has you pinned down by your throat, 

“You are going to listen to me doll or there are going to be consequences.” He says 

You look up at him in horror, he is your professor, he was said to be a good guy retired hero, why was he doing this to you what had you done to be treated this way you didn’t understand it, 

“Do you understand?’ He asked glaring down at you 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, 

He smiled liking your answer 

“That’s my good girl.” He says 

You knew you couldn’t over power him, He was far stronger and bigger than you, 

You were a petite thing, your dad and brothers always teased you for it, but you never really cared about it until now, he grabs the bowl of soup feeding you the soup, you ate most of it until you told him you were full, He handed you the Orange juice, you drank half a glass, until you started feeling drowsy your vision blurry, 

“Get some rest doll, once you are better we will go over a few rules.” He says smiling down at you, you could barley lift your limbs, Steve lifted your legs putting them under the blankets, Kissing your forehead your heavy eyelids slowly fluttering shut, 

Steve watched as you tried fighting sleep, but eventually gave in, He smiled at the thought of having you all to himself, all he had to do was rough you up a bit and you submitted to him, He knew you would be perfect for him, 

He also knew you didn’t need to go to school anymore, He was going to take care of you, but being a few months shy of graduating he figured he would humor your family, knowing how a military family worked, he was going to have to humor them and let you at least graduate, that way he wouldn’t run into any problems, but after that, you were going to be his perfect wife weather you wanted that or not, and sure he was a bit older than you, but he didn’t care, you were perfect, it was hard to find a girl like you in this day and age and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let you go.

#dark avengers #mcu smut #dark alpha steve rogers x omega reader #avengers fic #dark professor steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #dark fic #dark steve x smut reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #innocent reader #chris evans

[romanstheory]

Better A Randy Orton One Shot

Warnings : Heavy Smut, Choking, Spit, Heavy Language, ADULT age gap, Toxic relationship, Edging, Oral (Female receiving)

Word Count: 1,183

18 +

"We're not together remember" I say tossing Randy's bag back at him "We're not together so take your shit and don't come back". I caught him texting other women for the fourth time. One second he's treating me like I'm his and the next second he's hoeing around seemingly trying to get a rise out of me by flirting with the next bitch. "You're right, we're not" Randy snickers, catching his bag effortlessly. He's such an asshole, the kind of guy you want to punch and then fuck right after. He's 16 years older than me, but it seems like he's my age sometimes.... But he's so god damn magnetic. It's almost like his toxic ways keep me coming back. My friends and family hate him, and his feels the same about me.

Our..... Situationship has been full of drama and rough sex. "See you next week" He says with a wink. He leaves without a fight and drives away. I sigh deeply knowing I'm going to have to see him at work. week passes quickly. I walk through the nearly empty halls of the arena, glancing to my right seeing Randy flirting with another girl, I've never seen her before. He looks up at me, bites his lip and winks. I roll my eyes, spotting Jey Uso. I shoot Randy a sharp look and stop walking in front of Jey. "You look really good tonight" I say scanning him up and down licking my bottom lip slowly.

"Oh uh, thank you!" Jey says sporting a wide smile. "Maybe we should link up later" I reply rubbing his tattooed arm. Jey agrees and heads on his way. I could see Randy filling with rage. I look back at him and wink and walk away. The night continues and ends, I've managed to avoid Randy all night despite hearing whispers that he's looking for me. I get back to my hotel room to shower and relax for the rest of the night when I'm startled by someone pounding on my door. I jump up and open it, ready to curse whoever is on the other side of it out. Randy pushes into the room aggressively. "What the fuck was that?" He barks. "Karma" I bark back knowing exactly what he was talking about.

His eyes go dark and his jaw clenches just like it always did in these situations. I cross my arm, leaning all of my weight on one hip. My thin tank top strap slides down my soft brown arm, catching his attention. "What the fuck do you mean Karma?" Randy barks again, remembering he's supposed to be angry with me. "If you can do it so can I" I snicker brushing passed him to sit on the bed. "Did you have sex with him?" Randy asks slowly walking towards me. "If I did?" I tease. "Did you have sex with him?" He repeats himself, this time with a demonic growl in his voice, now standing directly in front of me. He roughly grabs a handful of my soft curly hair, forcing me to look him in his eye. My face leaning on his bulge. "Be a good girl and tell me and maybe I'll go easy on you" He says staring into my eye, his still dark and cloudy.

"I guess you'll never know" I say laughing at his anger. He pulls my hair tighter "Maybe I'll just fuck you better" He says bending down, whispering in my ear. "Good luck" I whisper back. Randy smirks, grabbing my neck and planting a long kiss on my lips. I begin massaging his growing bulge through his pants. He breaks the kiss to slide my shorts off. He pushes me down onto the bed, sliding us both up. He spreads my legs and teases my clit with his tongue. His eyes lock on mine as I already begin to squirm. Back and fourth, around and around his tongue softly circles. He loves slow, making sure I squirm more and move with every movement. I put my hand on his head preparing to reach my climax quickly when he abruptly stops.

"What the hell" I say. "Not until I say so" He says licking his lips. He unbuckles his pants, completely undressing afterward, I do the same thing. He sits on his knees, eyes scanning my body slowly. I can feel my vagina pulsating, waiting for him.... For his touch. He gets between my legs, leaning over me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the bed before pressing his entire length into my throbbing vagina. He begins stroking, long, hard, fast, deep. Screams of pleasure begin to escape my lips, I try to muffle them. "LET IT OUT" Randy barks, he loves hearing me scream his name. I open my house and stick my tongue out. He grabs my neck and spits in my mouth before connecting his lips with mine again. his tongue battled mine while he pushed his length into me further and futher

I feel a warmth build up inside of me again, this time more intense. "Fuck! Ohhh fuck Randy! I- oooohhh" I struggle to get my words out as this warmth builds and builds. He swirls his thumb around my throbbing clit, intensifying everything all at once. Just as I begin to reach the tip of climax he stops and pulls out. It's almost like torture not only for me but also for him. He was sweaty, his rock hard member was throbbing, begging for release just like I was. "You're so fucking sexy" Randy says, his hands explore my body, I could tell he wanted to rip me apart, fuck my brains out ten times over. He put my nipple in his mouth, sucking and softly biting while massaging my clit once again. The feeling in euphoric, I never wanted it to stop. I grab his throbbing member, stroking it slowly. I can hear his soft moans and feel his labored breathing.

I push him off of me and get on all fours, shaking my ass in the air. "Fuck me like this" I say looking back at him. Randy could never resist my ass, it was his favorite thing about me. He wasted no time getting behind me and pushing his entire length inside of me once again. We both sigh loudly with relief. Randy groans loudly while he slams himself into me over and over again. The room filled with claps like thunder and loud screams from me. "Randy! Fuck me Randy!" I scream. "Cum all over this dick!" Randy screams. He slams himself into me roughly over and over again, slapping my ass in between strokes. I scream loudly as I finally reach my climax more intensely than I ever have before. My body begins shaking with pleasure as I collapse on the bed. Randy quickly pulls out of me, stroking his dick until his warm juice comes rushing out "Oh fuckk oh fuck" Randy groans loudly. Randy collapses on the bed next to me. "I fucked you better" He says out of breath

#wwe #wwe smut #wwe fic #randy orton #randy orton one shot #randy orton x female reader #wwe x female reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Landslide 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, alcoholism, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life with your alcoholic mother is tough and you problems only mount when the local sheriff takes an interest in you.

Character: Lee Bodecker

Note: I'm so tireddddddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The mobile home creaks with your movement. The tight walls of your room watch you dig around under your bed frame, retrieving the empty tea tin from under the slats. You pop off the lid as you sit back on your heels and slip out the small roll of bills. You keep cotton balls in the bottom to keep the coins from jingling, not wanting any listening ears to suss out your stash.

You take what you need and put the rest back. You snake your arm up to replace the canister in your hiding spot. You stand and dusty off your knees, the worn denim fading and thinning. You tuck the bills in your back pocket and grab your flannel jacket from the bed post. 

You look around the cramped space, a modest and meagre dwelling place. You don't think too much about it, you’ve never known any better. Just like the big spenders in their shiny cadillacs don't give you much thought. You find that money can only bring trouble.

You go out into the living room. Your ma's sprawled on the couch, one leg over the edge, yesterday's newspaper over her head, and an arm dangling like there's no drop of life left in her. You go to the slender counter set under the narrow cupboards and put the kettle on the single burner. You pop open the cupboard door and grab the instant coffee, adding a healthy dose to an empty mug. 

"Ma," you say in a crusty tone, throat dry from sleep, "coffee."

"Eh," she mutters but doesn't unveil herself from beneath the newsprint.

"I'm gonna grab some groceries on the way home tonight," you explain as you cross your arms and lean against the wall across from the short couch where she languishes, "why didn't you take out the bed?"

She grumbles and the newspaper slips off of her as she props her head up. She wobbles as she squints across at the dinette that converts to a cozy double. She shakes her head and lays flat again. You don't fail to notice the empty bottle beside her.

"Alright, then, I gotta head down to Ernie's. I'll make dinner tonight," you suggest.

She waves you off and pulls the newspaper closer to her face, hiding behind it.

"Think ya can grab more whiskey?" She croaks from beneath.

"You got whiskey money?" You challenge with a sigh, "ma, it ain't good for ya."

"Don't tell me what's good for me. I raised ya," she barks as she rips the newspaper away and sits up, nearly keeling over as she winces with her whole body, "urgh, what're you rilin' me up for?"

"Water's boiling," you say as you check your watch, the one with the silver chain your granny gave you before she passed. "If you gotta puke, do it outside."

"Aw, baby, please," she shakes and touches her temples, "don't leave me. I can't do it alone--"

"Ma, you just gotta pour the water and stir. It's that instant stuff."

She harrumphs but doesn't argue as you're already at the door. You pull open the door and let it close heavily at your back as you tramp down the front steps. You button up your wool-lined flannel as you come down to ground level, your boots kicking up dust.

You head up between the rows of mobile homes. Most of them are nicer than your own. The paint on the siding isn't all chipped and the doors don't creak so loud. Plus, there isn't a mess of dead plants rotting away in the garden plot.

As you head past Theo's picnic table with the bright red umbrella, the nose of a car pokes around from the next row. You stop and watch the cruiser roll by, a sheriff's star emblazoned on the brown paint. It's not that unusual to see a cop hanging around, they like to rove the area for vagrants.

The man in the front seat turns his head as he passes, meeting your eye with a nod. You don't know him, you've never seen him before, but his hat makes him seem rather fancy. He must be high up. You don't know why he's hanging around there if he is.

You wait until he's past you and cross the row and head up towards the entrance of the community. The place is an assortment of wealthy city slickers vacationing, comfy middle classers with their tots, and the dregs like yourself and your mother, living on pennies and nickels.

Work isn't far. You sit at the desk in Ernie's shop and tell the folks where to park their beaters and lemons. The men talk loudly over engines as you throw Rufus' bone and watch him bring it back to you. The place is quaint and a bit shady, but the only job that would have you.

You walk in and greet the old bloodhound as he raises his wrinkly face. He gets up, he rarely does that for anyone else, and follows you to the wooden desk where you perch and drink the burnt coffee they have on the burner.  He lays at the foot of your stool as you say hello to the first mechanic through the door. Glenn doesn't seem to hear or see you as he pulls down his cap and ducks into the garage.

The smell of autumn creeps in from the open door of the garage, blowing into your little nook. A lady with tattered tights shows up with a rattling pipe and you call in Jethro to have a look. She gives him a look, the type that may get her a lower price on the second-hand part.

You pull out the book you keep lodged underneath the desk with the cup of pencils and receipt pad. You open it, the broken spine laying flat as you read and pet the lazy dog's snout as he leans his large head on your leg.

The day wiles by as usual. Not abnormal, nothing out of order. The mechanics hang up their overalls and leave oil stained rags in the crate. You take those down to the laundromat on Wednesdays.

Ernie locks up as you leave, offering you a drive to the grocer that you gratefully accept. There, you walk the aisles with your list, choosing between one staple and another to fit your budget. A bag of rice will go further than potatoes.

You leave with a paper bag full of goods. A good amount to stretch until your next pay. You take your usual path back, cutting through the path behind Alfred Horsk's stables.

You enter the park. A man rakes his front lawn despite the leaf fall being sparse. Nellie, the old woman who complains about your torn jeans, sends a glare as you pass, and you shoulder her out of your mind as you turn down the far row.

Your mother's dented mobile home beckons you forth. You have no illusions, you know what people think, you know what they've seen. Your mother is hardly the paragon of virtue. And your father, while you don't know who he is, you're certain he's a deadbeat.

You slow as you approach. A white and brown cruiser is parked at an angle, just in the space between your mother's trailer and the next. The siren on top is dulled but shiny. The car is well-kept. Shoot, you're not prepared to talk your mother out of another fine.

The scene is even stranger as there are no officers to go with the vehicle. There's usually at least one keeping watch or listening to the scanner. Just as peculiar, the trailer is shut up and there's not hollering coming from inside. Typically, the door's wide open for you to stumble in upon your mother's latest turmoil.

You balance the paper bag in one arm as you climb the low steps to the door and twist back the handle. The door opens easy and you step into a low dim, curtains drawn and lights all out. There's still light in the sky but it doesn't touch the place.

Your mother's cackle jars you and the deep rumble in response puts you on edge. You let the grim dim of the autumn in behind you as you feel around for the light knob. You turn it and light up the glass shade over the dinette.

You nearly drop your armful as you find your mother on the bench, giggling as a uniformed man pours whiskey past her lips, the dark brown neck of the bottle glugging loudly. You recoil and stammer. It's not the first time you've stumbled on your mother with a man, usually she leaves a scarf on the door to prevent that. You're only thankful they are fully clothed.

"Sorry," you back up and spin out the door, snapping it shut behind you.

You hop down to the gravel and sit on the bottom step. You put the groceries beside you and roll your shoulders, trying to escape that grimy feeling. Really, a cop? Well, that might keep her out of trouble. Or at least, make the law look in the other direction.

You try not to think about it but your eyes are drawn over to the round headlight of the cruiser. You frown. It can't be the same officer as earlier. You rub your cheek and think. You can't tell, he was missing that wide-brimmed hat.

You tear your attention from the nose of the car and watch some kids run by in a game of tag. You begrudge your empty stomach and heavy head. All day you only wanted to be home so you could get the groceries away and turn in. Nothing ever goes to plan with your ma.

You place your chin in your hand and blow a raspberry. What kind of lawman feeds liquor to a woman like that? It's plain to see that your ma has a problem. It's slimy, really. Barely preferable to him booking her. There's something nasty about him holding that bottle, laughing at her desperation to sate her bottomless thirst.

Their voices come clearer through the thin wall of the trailer. You get up and take the groceries, hiding them around the back. Hopefully no one stumbles on them. You go back around and set off down the gravel. He should be gone by the time you get back.

The kids run by you, puffing and panting in their game. You watch them, mourning the days when life was as simple as that. For you, the carefree era of your childhood didn’t last long. If it ever was.

You hear a parent holler and one of the children disperses. The others disappear around the next row as they continue on in their back and forth. You cross your arms as the evening chill nips at your flannel. You loop around, making a full lap of the outer path of the park.

You come back in sight of your mother’s trailer. The door is open as the officer sits on your former perch, sucking on a cigarette. You think of turning back. You’re tired and the sky is getting dim. You just want to eat and go to bed.

As you approach, he looks up and blows out a cloud of smoke. You cross your arms as he bows and gives a half-salute with two fingers. He looks up at you as he flicks ash from the cigarette.

“Must be junior,” he stands with a grunt, “sorry to chase ya out like that.”

You shrug, “officer.”

He smirks, “I’m off-duty.”

You nod and look away. There’s something about him, something slimy. Maybe it’s the way his stomach hangs over his pants or how he lets the bolo tie hang loose down his chest, his top buttons still undone.

“Gotta grab the, er, groceries,” you excuse yourself.

You sweep around the trailer and retrieve your haul, thankfully undiscovered. As you come back to the front, the officer remains, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot. You go to the steps and he stops you, stretching his arm in front of you.

“What’s yer name, girl?”

You shake your head, “does it matter?”

“Ma’s a nice lady, ain’t she? I’m only curious…” he says, “if I’m gonna be comin’ around.”

You hug the paper bag and bite down. You don’t want to tell him. If he’s anything like the other men, he won’t be back.

Your mother calls your name as he she clatters against the door from the inside. She manages to tear it open as you cringe. She’s in her underwear and a tank top barely clinging to her shoulders. You unthinkingly bull past the cop and rush up the stairs.

“Ma, it’s too cold out,” you usher her inside, “Christ.”

“Hey, you watch your mouth,” she sneers.

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” you say as you put the bag down. You turn to close the door but it swings inward from the other side. It’s him, officer slime.

“So, Molly,” he leers at your mother, “this your girl, then?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” your mother grumbles and falls against the couch, nearly missing as the man catches her and sets her right.

You exhale through your nose. She wouldn’t be like that if he didn’t bring her liquor. You grab the mostly empty bottle from the table and go to the sink. You hover it over the drain as you mouth shrieks like a hurt cat.

“Don’t you be wastin’ that!” She howls.

“Ma, look at you–”

“Now, now,” the man comes close and reaches to put his hand around yours, “I paid for that.”

“Great,” you turn to him, “you can take it with you.”

“With me?”

“Have a good night, officer,” you let him have the bottle, “I gotta make dinner.”

“Don’t be rude,” your mother slurs, “he stayin’.”

“Staying?” you sneer as you eye the man warily.

“Now I raised you right, we don’t send a good man off with an empty belly,” she snickers and reaches for his hand, tugging him towards her, “we make sure he’s nice and full.”

“Ma–” you begin.

“You ain’t even introduced us, Moll,” the man kisses her knuckles before wiggling free of her grasp. He hands her the whiskey. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he grins at you, “Lee when I’m off the beat.”

You look at him, then your mother. She gulps down the whiskey sloppily. You turn back to the counter and hide your chagrin.

“Hope you like beans,” you utter in defeat.

“I ain’t picky,” he drawls as he leans on the table, watching you.

You peek over your shoulder. Your mother is barely conscious as she leans back, letting the bottle rest on the empty space beside her on the couch. The quicker she passes out, the sooner this man can leave.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #leader of the landslide #series #the devil all the time

[faretheeoscar]

INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

--Warnings: 🔥18+, nsfw, nipple play, but also kind of fluff(?) cause Steven is just so adorable idk--

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes,

Word count: 800~ this is more like a blorbo tbh

As always thanks to my proof readers @mandodinstuff , @lauraispunk

You were getting ready to sleep, doing your usual nighttime skincare routine in the bathroom while Steven reads in bed waiting for you before cuddling to sleep.

Unfortunately for you, your hands have been especially clumsy tonight, for some reason you have been reaping your face pads in half and honestly just making a mess, that culminates in you don't taking the lid off correctly of one of your many bottles of toners/moisturizers and ended up spilling the whole thing on yourself, leaving you with a see through white shirt and one bottle of 35£ of serum spilled on the floor.

“Fuck me!“

You sighed and walked back annoyed to the bedroom to change your shirt for a dry one, you tried searching for a new one on one of the drawers of the bedside table were you usually store your pajamas in but to add to your frustrations you just encounter an empty drawer as you haven't washed any clothes for the past couple of weeks, you sigh and think that one of your boyfriends shirts will do just as fine, so you turn to face Steven to ask him to burrow one from him while tugging off your own wet one.

“Steven do you have a shirt that I could—“

It all happens very fast, when you turn around Steven is already leaning right next to you sitting on the edge of the bed looking up to you like a drooling puppy and without a warning his face jumps forward and his mouth latches on your nipple, making you gasp also jump bit back at the sudden intrusion.

“Hey!”

You try to warn him, but Steven puts his arms around your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the bed while he indulges on sucking one of your nipples, and buries his face further, he brings his other hand to pinch the other one and you let out a high pitch involuntary whine as he does it.

He keeps on sucking one nipple and then turns the attention to the other, while his hand continues on teasing your perky nipples, rolling them between his fingers, if you are honest with yourself at the beginning you were a bit startled and confused by his sudden intrusion but right now you are melting under his touch, getting the familiar sensation of warmth down on your nether regions.

Steven stops latching at your nipples and brings both of his hands to grab them, starts playing like an amused child, while squeezing them together and then letting them bounce, just before he buries his face on the nape of your breasts and motorboats them a couple of times.

You giggle and he looks up at you with that mischievous playful smile that you love, you close your eyes as you feel the warm sensation of his breath against your nipple again, but instead of getting the warm sensation of his mouth on you, he just kisses softly your breasts and lets them go with a satisfied smile, he scoots back on the bed and gets on reading the chapter in his book, like nothing even happened.

You are left frozen in place with a hazy mind, a confused expression and soaked panties as you watch him while he puts his glasses back on and resume what he was doing prior without even flinching.

“Steven… what the--? Seriously?” You climb on the bed and pull down his book by the spine.

Steven looks at you through his glasses

“Sorry luv, sometimes the intrusive thoughts just win” He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders as he goes back to reading.

You take his book away from his hands and toss it to the floor.

“Hey what was that for?!” Steven looks down at his book that is now just a bunch of with pages all scattered on the floor.

“Sorry love, sometimes the intrusive thoughts just win”

You give him a mischievous smile and before he gets the opportunity to even say something or try to grab the book from the floor, you jump to straddle his legs and start grinding yourself on him.

“Oh, bloody hell—-luv, what, are you--“ Steven tries to mutter a complain but you put a hand on his mouth to shut him up.

“Shhhh....you’re gonna finish what you started Grant” You grind yourself a bit harder on him earning a muffled moan from him and a hardening erection "Am i making myself clear?"

Steven just nods frantically at you as he bucks his needy hips up and the friction of his now fully hard member against your clit makes you both moan pathetically.

“Outta boy, Steven, just let the intrusive thoughts in again honey and maybe I'll buy you a replacement for that book of yours"

Fic Masterlist

#moonknight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #this were literally my own intrusive thots at 3am in the morning

[author-ssi]

Let Me Pleasure You ~PJM

➜Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader ➜Genre: Smut, One-Shot Warnings: dirty talk and fingering [18+ MDNI] ➜Word Count: 1.1k ➜Summary: When you stumble upon a bartender named Jimin after being left unsatisfied by your date.

You're drunk.

You're so freaking drunk.

But that was the goal you had in mind when you entered this bar, so you're pretty pleased with yourself. Not the exact pleasure you'd thought you'd be getting tonight but at least after a few drinks, it's safe to say your sexual frustration has been appeased for the time being.

"It was awful! He just couldn't get it up! I mean, I was over there, trying my best to -you know- but it was no good!", you vent in the videos you're sending to your two best friends while sitting on a bar stool. Sipping your fourth glass of wine for the night, the buzz in your head intensifying, you glance around the empty bar to check whether you're safe from prying ears. The bartender is on the other side of the bar, there are but two groups of people at tables quite far from you; so you're good.

Clicking on your phone, you start recording the next video of you rumbling, "At first, I thought that he might be nervous but when I asked him he denied it and said that the hotel just didn't inspire him and that he was anxious about our limited time, too. I mean- He was the one who booked the hotel and as far as I'm concerned, we had plenty of time so all those are just excuses. Still, I don't get it! I gave him a handjob, and he got an erection but then, everytime he was about to enter me, he went... Limpy!".

Downing the rest of your drink, you twirl the glass around with your fingers as you let out a long, disappointed sigh. "So much for grooming myself... I put on my favourite body lotion, wore that pair of black, lacy lingerie I own and for what!? I've been going out with this guy for like a month and I've been dropping so many hints for him to find a place for us to have sex and when we finally get the chance, this happens!", you unconsciously raise your volume, ultimately groaning in exasperation.

"Why are you still dating this guy, then?", a euphonic, male voice is heard out of nowhere and you turn to face the black-haired bartender gazing at you with a genuinely puzzled look in his peering, brown eyes. You're too stunned to speak as you watch him lean against the bar resting his chin on his palm and raising a questioning brow at you, "Based on what you're describing it seems you two have no sexual chemistry and from my experience, when two people don't fulfil one another's desires in bed, then there's no point in them dating".

"You could always stay friends, keep things platonic", he adds with a shrug of his shoulders before coming out from behind the bar to stand right in front of you. "Besides, there are plenty of men out there; perfectly capable of providing you with the pleasure you deserve", his deep voice takes on a sensuous tone and travels all the way to your core, bringing back to the surface all the sexual frustration you tried to bury. Nimble fingers inch towards the end of your dress, hovering over your bare thighs. His eyes appear dark yet calculating, as if trying to pinpoint your boundaries so he won't cross them later.

Finding his intentions to respect you unbearably sexy, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together, trembling eyes almost begging him to touch you. Still, the handsome man settles on teasingly tugging at the edge of your dress, smirking down at you smugly. “It’s the first time I’ve had a stranger offer me advice on my sex life”, you observe with a playful giggle yet the way you’re staring at him from under your lashes is nothing but seductive. The heat in your panties instantly turns to dampness when his fingers finally move under your dress caressing the inside of your thighs, and you spread your legs slightly in order to allow him a little more space.

“How rude of me not to introduce myself... I’m Jimin”, he states with his voice becoming even more sensuous, causing goosebumps to shoot down your back and your legs to almost quiver. “I’m Y/N-”, you barely manage to utter before his fingers come in contact with the spot you need it most. A heavy sigh escapes you as pleasure paints over your expression when he starts to move his fingers up and down, rubbing them against your clothed pussy. “Nice to meet you Y/N”, he chuckles lowly, clearly satisfied with your reaction to his touch.

You place a hand on his slim waist for support, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his black shirt in attempt to choke back a moan when he adds more pressure and rhythm to his touch. "You know... If I was your man, then it would never get to the point where you'd have to drop hints for us to have sex; I'd rail you to your heart's content", his words are fierce and direct compared to the subtle and gentle way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear the moment you look up to meet his gaze. The lustful look you’re giving him urges him to go one step further, pulling your panties to the side and entering two of his fingers inside you.

Astonished by his bold invasion of your body, you can’t help but let out a staggered gasp. Yet, your state of astonishment is even more prolonged when his plump lips find their way to the now exposed skin of your neck, peppering wet kisses all over it. “Jimin, we’re not alone here”, you mutter in a brief state of clarity through the haziness of pleasure. "Oh, so you want to continue somewhere more private?”, he murmurs against your skin, his thick fingers suddenly curling inside you. The stimulation is too intense you’re surprised you didn’t fold on the spot. Instead in an attempt to control yourself, you clamp a palm against your mouth stifling a high-pitched whine.

“Look at how your pussy is squeezing my fingers. I can already imagine it clenching on my cock ”, he rasps with a slight grunt of anticipation before he finally draws his face from your neck to look at you. His tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. Not that you’d ever be able to take your eyes away from him either! “Come on baby, let me...", he speaks with his full lips now brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Let me pleasure you"

#bts #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin #smut #bts smut #bts jimin #jimin smut #let me pleasure you #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

Hi! I’m autistic and a lesbian and my current hyper fixation/ comfort show is Hazbin Hotel and my favorite/comfort character is Angel Dust. I was wondering if you could write a platonic Angel x gn/fem reader that is angsty and involves the reader comforting and taking care of Angel after a really bad night with Valentino. With cuddling, and handholding and Angel dealing with addiction/ self harm and the reader just being there and supporting him or something. I totally understand if not I just thought I would ask. Also I’m a huge fan of your work!!

So the way the story went, I didn’t get super graphic or anything. It truly is a really angsty fic but mainly comfort and reader being there for Angel with the help of Husk!

Let me know if this fic gets it for the prompt and if not, send me another request and I’ll take another swing at it. :)

rating: PG

genre: angst/confirt

characters: Angel x Reader, platonic

warnings: talk of boundaries, crossing physical boundaries, being a good friend.

Angel came into the hotel, looking distraught. He went to the bar and laid his top half on the counter, Husk and I giving each other a glance. I reach over to Angel to pet his hair, and the minute I touch him he shoots up, on guard, eyes wide.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” He says, his eyes pointed at me.

“Hey, Angel, she was just trying to help.” Husk said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I’m not. I’m sorry.” I say.

“But you DID.” Angel cries getting up. “You touched me, without even asking if you could. I’m not property for everyone to stroke tonight.” He yells, running off. I look at Husk and he sighs.

“I fucking hate Valentino.” I hear myself growl out, watching where Angel disappeared. My face falls quickly, knowing that Angel was upset right now.

“Go after him kid.” Husk says, cleaning out a glass. “One of us needs to and I think you gotta apologize.” I nod and quickly take after Angel, not before grabbing some waters from Husk and a few snacks he keeps behind the bar. I get up to Angels door and knock lightly, hearing the soft sobs inside Angel’s room.

“Angel, can I come in?” I ask. There’s no answer, but the door opens revealing an empty room. I walk inside and sit down on Angel’s bed, seeing him in his chair in the corner.

“I brought some water and snacks. I know you need them. I’m going to set them here on this stool, okay?” I explain.

“I’m not gonna fucking break.” Angel glares at me and I sigh.

“I’m not sure right now how to help you. I understand that I crossed a boundary early and I’m trying to be respectful of that, but you pulling up a defense mechanism that you’re fine and aren’t going to break isn’t giving me clear signs here.” I explain. “I want to help. How can I?”

Angel looks at me and all the malice and anger melts in an instant as he gets up, starting to sob and throws himself at me. He lands in my arms, kneeling on the ground as I was sat on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry.” Angel kept crying over and over.

“No, I’m sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable Angel or make you feel like I don’t respect you. That is so far from the truth.” I explain, clutching him to me.

“How can ya respect me? No one does. It’s what I deserve.” Angel mutters, his eyes dark.

“You do not deserve any mistreatment Angel. Regardless of the contract you have with Val. You deserve so much more than that blind bitch of an overlord could ever give you.” I declare, as I feel a chuckle.

“Blind Bitch?” Angel snorts.

“He couldn’t see two inches in front of him let alone two feet. Reason why he stays with Vox.” I joke back as Angel laughs again. “Come here.” I say and climb up Angel’s bed, laying on my back. Angel happily comes up and lays on my chest with Fat Nuggets curled up between us.

“Do you think everything will be all right?” Angel murmurs, his eyes slowly closing as he fell asleep, while I put his phone on silent.

“Everything will. And if it’s not all right, it’s not the end.” I murmur, gently brushing through his hair and I hear the gentle snores coming from him, allowing sleep to take me over too. Not before setting an alarm and texting Husk to wake me so we could make Angel breakfast.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel x reader #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin angel

[lovebittenbyevans]

The Wrong Sister | Prologue

Summary: You and your sister Jasmine don’t always see eye to eye. When she starts to bring her husband Andy Barber around more, you kept a distance from him until things began to change between you two.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Warnings: slight slow burn, cursed words

Author note: I missed writing this series. This series will be a short series and different. Enjoy reading!

Prologue

One missed call from Andy Barber (brother-in law)

You grabbed your phone after you put on your my hero academia t-shirt. You heard your phone buzzing again in your hand as you finally checked to see who kept hitting you up like this.

Andy Barber: I’m outside! Open the door, please

You reread his text message one more time like it was a joke or not. You placed your phone on the nightstand and walked out of your bedroom. You didn’t expect to see him anytime soon since your sister made plans for them tonight.

When you opened the door of your apartment, you saw Andy standing there in the pouring rain holding a duffel bag. “Hi.”

“Hey, can I stay here tonight?” He asked you.

You quickly moved to the side of the door to let him in. “Uh, you and my sister got into it again?” He walked inside taking his shoes off as you closed the door.

He sighed. “Um, kind of.”

You honestly were not expecting to see him tonight most of all. Your heart began to pick up fast as you walked past him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

It has been a long time since you had anyone staying with you. You can’t even remember the last time you had a guy stay over at your place.

Andy has been to your apartment more than once but only when your family wanted to have parties or get together at someone's house. You needed your heart to calm the fuck down right about now.

You led him to the guest room and opened the door. “Let me know if you need anything.” You thank god you were able to get rid of the yellow wallpaper and paint the guest room wall a nice light green color.

He clears his throat and walks past you inside the guest room. “Just water.” You nod and head directly to the kitchen.

You filled an empty glass cup with water and made your way back to the guest room. A skull mixed with a lion tattoo on his back caught your attention as you were about to hand him the cup with water.

Shit!

“Here you go.” You said making sure you spoke clearly.

Andy turned around with a smile and took the cup from you. “Thanks.”

You nod. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.” You were about to walk out the door when he called out to you. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” You responded while glancing at him.

Sometimes you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. There was something about Andy that had your heart racing fast and you can not see yourself being around him for long especially when Jasmine always tried to be in you two conversations.

His blue eyes locked with yours. “Why have you been avoiding me? I’ve been calling you and texting you for the past week.”

And there it is…..fuck!

For the past week you have not been answering his calls and text messages. He was not stupid. A part of him missed hearing your voice. He wanted to make sure his sister in law was doing okay.

“Uh.” You paused for a second. “What did my sister and you argue about this time?” You tried to change the subject.

You would be lying to yourself that he shouldn’t be on your mind. He was your brother in law for god sake. Your heart shouldn’t be beating fast for a married man. You should not feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/N.” He studied you as he tapped the spot on the bed next to him. He missed having real honest conversations with you. He missed seeing you as well.

You sigh and sit on the edge of the bed leaving space between you two. “Did Jasmine say something to you? I know we follow her rules.” He continues to talk.

You rolled your eyes and scoffs. Your sister and her stupid rules she always made up every time she dates or married someone which you have to follow regardless.

“No.” You shake your head.

Confusion showed on his face. “Is it about that day what happened between–” You cut him off immediately. “No, No, No.”

There you go lying again

Andy brows raise. “Y/N, Don’t do that.” He can tell when you aren’t telling him the truth. You were sometimes easy to read.

“Andy.” You said quietly.

That day should have never happened but it did. He reaches toward you and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It’s ok.”

You didn’t realize how close he was to you. You were pretty sure he could hear the way your heart was pounding.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he leans in close, nose brushing and whispers against your lips. “I want you to have me.” You move your head away before he could kiss you.

“Time to get some sleep.” You got up from the bed and let out a yawn. “Goodnight, Andy.” He was almost hard to resist but you was not going to give in. You walked out the door feeling butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks flustered.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans series #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x black reader #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction

[lilmissuseful]

I worked late. I have been a lot lately. but it's Friday, so I'm off tomorrow, which is good because I need stress relief again.

I always need stress relief, and she provides.

I text her and let her know I'm on my way, and that tonight I'm using her to my heart's content. So I'm not surprised when I open the front door and find her naked on the floor waiting for me. Her ass is in the air and her head is on the floor. What a wonderful sight to come home and see her holes on display for me.

I give her ass a squeeze before stepping around her to put my things down in the kitchen. When I sit at the kitchen table, beer bottle in hand, she crawls to me and presents her holes again. I reach down and rub her clit before giving it a firm pinch and tug. A soft moan escapes her, so I tug on it again a bit harder. Her back arches in response.

"Spread your pussy," I command, and she reaches back with both hands to spread herself. "Wider" I demand and she tries to spread her hole more. "Wider" I demand more forcefully, which she tries to do. I sigh with fake annoyance before shoving my index and middle fingers of both hands into her pussy, and pry her hole open wide. I have a good view into her now, but I continue prying her open, examining her hole. Satisfied, I spit directly into her and rub roughly at her clit before diving two fingers in her and pumping roughly before adding a third. "That hole looks ready to be used."

I pull my fingers from her before taking a sip from my bottle. I then undo my pants, and she turns to face me without command. Pants out of the way, her mouth begins to work as I take my time with my beer, holding her head down every so often until her gagging is hard and her body goes rigid, then I let her up again as I nurse my drink.

Bottle empty, I pull her off me by her hair and spin her back around. I give her pussy a slap and watch her lips jiggle from it before I spread her with one hand and push the neck of the bottle into her hole. "Fuck it" I order, and she begins sliding herself back and forth on it. Body betraying her, the bottle begins to glisten with her juices. "Such a naughty girl getting turned on by a bottle in her pussy," I tease and she whimpers in embarrassment. I pull the bottle from her before she can get too excited, turn it around and slowly but forcefully push the bottom fat end in her. she whines and groans, but eventually it goes in, and I fuck her pussy with it for a while.

I let go of the bottle, leaving it in her, and make my way to our bedroom. She crawls after me, bottle sticking out like a tail. Once in the bedroom, I strip down before pulling the bottle out of her. I spread her dangling lips again and admire her gaped hole. "So used" I tease while pulling on her clit again and giving her pussy a smack again.

I help her onto the bed and leave her on all fours as I retrieve the Hitachi wand from a dresser drawer. Turning it on high, I shove it to her clit without warning. She lets out a squeak of surprise before moaning and grinding her clit to the bulb of the wand. I love seeing her big lips vibrating under her from the wand. I edge her that way for a bit. When she's close to orgasm, I move the bulb from her clit to her hole, and shove it in her. She groans but her body goes rigid as her climax starts. Her whole pussy is vibrating as she whines in orgasm. I leave the wand there as her orgasm continues, quickly over stimulating her.

I spread her ass and taunt her, "not so ready to be used" but that's just how I want her. I line myself up with her asshole and slam all the way into her. she squeals loudly, and I have to grip her tightly to keep her in place. I roughly use her ass, taking her how I want despite her whimpers under me. the vibration from the wand lodged in her pussy only fuel me to go harder and faster. I jackhammer myself in her ass, relentless in my use.

I reach under her and quickly rip the wand out of her pussy, never stopping my pounding. She whines louder, and I slow enough to kiss her back before continuing my thrusts. When I finally reach orgasm, I slam deep in her ass and fill her.

I quickly slide out of her and admire her well used holes momentarily before I slide the fuck machine stand to the edge of the bed. I use this on her so often that it's now quick to set up. I lay a spreader bar at her feet and attach her wrists and ankles to it, leaving her ass in the air. She's huffing and puffing still, so she doesn't object in any way. I spread her ass and examine her hole before attaching a toy to it that will still be a tight fit in her used ass, and take some getting use to. I line up the machine, the piston fully extended, and push the toy hard into her ass until it's completely buried in her. She groans, wincing slightly at the size. I check her again before switching the machine on. I leave it on low long enough to check that the angle and depth are correct, then quickly switch it to high. The machine continues the pounding on her ass, the toy ripping out and shoving in at a very fast pace.

I reach under her to tug her clit and play with her pussy lips before slapping her ass and leaving her there to clean myself up quickly. I return, the machine still relentlessly pounding her ass, "gotta keep that asshole used," I taunt as she whines.

I climb onto the bed at her head, my legs straddling her body. I stroke myself while watching her be helplessly used and stretched. Then my hand finds her hair and I pull her to my cock and lodge myself in her mouth and down her throat, face fucking her while she's restrained and gagging.

I'll fuck her mouth until I grow tired of it. Only then will I slow the machine down until it stops, and release her from the restraints and clean her up for the night, letting her rest until I need to use her again. Which will probably be tomorrow...

#free use kink #free use slvt #fvcktoy

[ariundercovers]

Roundabout (When Paths Cross, Pt III - Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~2.8k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: The next Sunday. Fluff, flan, and the great beyond.

Chapter Warnings: its all fluff anf plot, no porn this time, Javi being a needy demon, spanish nicknames, idk what else its honestly pretty chill

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (II) HERE

Javi does, in fact, meet you for lunch that week. Twice. And then dinner on Friday. He’s a perfect gentleman, picking you up from your apartment and driving you to the restaurant. He holds every door for you, makes sure you’re seated first, tells you he’s paying and that he wants you to order anything on the menu you’d like. 

Normally, you’d take that kind of chivalry as a bit of an offense - some kind of lingering patriarchal worldview that you’d have absolutely no interest in - and yet, with Javi, you’re not opposed. In fact, you find that you genuinely enjoy it. Something about that shocks you even more than the way you jumped into his bed that first evening did, and even more than the warmth that blooms in your chest when he presses your knuckles to his lips. There’s just something about him, you think. Something you can’t quite put your finger on, but you already feel like you can’t live without.

Okay. It’s been a week. Get it together.

It feels like you’re in high school all over again, falling head over heels for anyone who showed an interest in you, no matter how bad they ended up being for you, or how much they annoyed you at first. 

Yeah. You’re falling. Hard. 

Fuck.

You’re getting ready to head over to Chucho’s for another Sunday meal when your phone rings. Picking it up, a beautiful baritone voice speaks into your ear that makes your knees a bit weak and a warmth bloom in your chest.

“Hola, Muñeca.” You sigh, like a lovestruck teenager, and move to sit down at the little armchair you keep in the corner of your room.

“Javier.” You can practically hear his smirk from the other side of the phone line, your own face graced with one to match.

“You’re coming tonight, right?”

“Like I always do, every Sunday. Unless… you don’t want me to?” You’re suddenly struck with a pang of worry in your gut, fear that perhaps things were moving too fast, that you’ve assumed some kind of exclusivity that the two of you have never discussed. You hadn’t stopped to think about what this might do to alter your standing weekly dinners at the Peña ranch. Javi chuckles in your ear and you settle immediately, reassured in an instant.

“No, darlin’, of course I want you to be there. I just thought I’d ask if you want to stay again? Maybe with a bit more planning this time? Doesn’t have to be with me, if you don’t want. We’ve still got the guest bedroom made up.” You smile and sigh, once again affronted by this gentlemanly way he has about him. Somehow, it’s not what you were expecting from a man like him. You were expecting something gruffer, with unfinished edges. Something more… machismo, really. He throws you for a loop at every corner.

“Yeah, of course. I’d love to. Any excuse not to come back to my empty apartment is a more than welcome one.” You can hear a little chuckle come through the receiver and then a heavy breath.

“Good. Can I come pick you up?”

You scoff and respond quickly. “I can drive myself, Javi. You don’t need to go out of your way for me like that.”

“It’s not out of my way if it means I get to spend more time with you, muñeca.” Sighing, you stand, pinching the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you start to pull out whatever clothes and items you’ll need for an overnight stay.

“Really, Javi. I’m alright. But I appreciate the offer. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll be out of the house in like… half an hour, I think.” 

He sighs lightly in the background but his words are laced with a touch of disappointment when he answers. “Hope you’re bringing some more of those pastelillos. Pops and I ate them all in less than 24 hours.”

“Ha! Of course you did. No pastelillos but something just as yummy, in my opinion.”

“Good. See you soon, then.” You pause your motions and smile softly to yourself, holding the phone once again.

“Yeah, See you soon. Bye, Javi.”

“Adios, muñeca.”

The receiver clicks off and you put down your phone, sighing dreamily as if you just stepped into a romance novel. He so successfully melted you by doing so little… it should really be more concerning to you, you think. 

Hastily, you pack up your bag and head to the kitchen where your homemade flan is cooling in the fridge. Pulling it out, you flip it onto the dish and scoop out the remaining caramel, grabbing up a can of dulce de leche and stuffing it in your bag before wrapping up the flan carefully and tightly. You flit around the house for a few minutes, tidying things up and making sure everything was in its place, lights were off, and cleaning up the few dishes lingering in the kitchen sink properly.

Taking a moment to visually scan the apartment, you open the door, hands very full, and shut it behind you before deadbolting it shut.

~ ~ ~ 

With the way your mind has you lost on some daydreaming tangent that is no doubt Javier-infused, it's no surprise that it feels like you blink and suddenly you’re standing in front of Chucho’s front door. You still blink back at it for a while before raising your hand to knock and being greeted by the old man, himself.

“Mija, I’m so glad you made it. Oh, here - let me take something, yes?” He takes the flan out of your hands and heads into the kitchen with it as you let yourself into the house, closing the door behind you. “Javi’s just finishing up a few chores around the ranch. He’ll be back in soon, I’m sure.”

You smile at Chucho and take a seat at the dining table as he brings you over a glass of water, taking the chair next to you. “Okay. No problem. You know he’s not the only thing I came here to see, right?” Chucho shrugs, a smirk on his face as he leans over and squeezes one of your hands with his own.

“Well… given the way he’s been moving around the house over the course of the week, I think I might’ve been knocked out of first place already.” You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, looking down into your glass in slight embarrassment before he quickly continues. “I don’t mean to make you feel embarrassed about it, mija. I’m glad, actually. He’s been so much less mopey. Much more pleasant to be around.”

“You noticed that in a week?” You’re shocked, to say the least, thrown a bit by Chucho’s admission. You knew how much you felt for Javi already, but you were surprised to hear he might be feeling similarly, to put it lightly.

“I did. Doesn’t take very long when it’s the right person.” The warmth in your cheeks spreads and you look back down before he squeezes your hand once again. “Mija… look at me, please.”  You do as he asks, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I want you to be careful. He went through a lot down there. I won’t pretend to know the extent of it, but… I don’t want to see you hurt, either. Just… just be careful. Okay?” 

Your brows scrunch together slightly and you nod, somber, but agreeing. “I will. I promise, Chucho.”

Naturally, it’s then that you hear the front door open and you turn in your chair to see one sweaty Javier Peña in his tight jeans and a pair of muddy cowboy boots, yanking them off and throwing them on the porch before he steps inside. He smiles at you immediately.

“Muñeca. Pops. ‘M gonna go shower. Be back out in no time.”  He squeezes your shoulder on his way to his room and your eyes follow him down the hallway as Chucho speaks up to you again.

“You’re good for him, mija. I just hope he’s good for you, too.”

~ ~ ~ 

Dinner goes by relatively uneventfully. You spend some time recounting your weeks - Chucho talks about the ranch and the problematic bull he’s been fighting for some time now, Javi talks about some of the things he’s been tinkering with on the property, especially the fences he’s been fixing up. You give them the low-down on what work’s been like over the last week and you can tell that they both listen very intently, even if they’re not up to date on museum lingo. You do your best to explain as needed.

When you’ve all finished, Javi gathers up the plates and you follow him into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for your very precious flan. As you’re reaching forward, fingertips just grazing the plate, suddenly there are a pair of arms wrapped around your midsection and a set of lips attached to your neck. Your body shivers involuntarily and you squeak, surprised. 

“Javi!” You almost shout, just barely holding it back into a whisper in time. “You could’ve made me drop the whole thing!” He chuckles in your ear and presses a kiss behind it. His voice is sultry, hushed whispers in your ear as he speaks.

“But I didn’t. Been waiting to get my hands on you all night, muñeca. Making me wait a whole week has been like a living nightmare.” You chuckle at his words and press back into his embrace as his lips drop to the junction of your shoulder and neck. 

“Well you’ve gotta wait a little more, Javier. I am not risking Chucho turning over his shoulder and seeing anything.” You push him off of you and turn around to a dejected look on his face, like a kicked puppy dog. You roll your eyes at him and reach up to press a kiss on his cheek. “You’ll survive, I promise. Couple hours, tops.” He sighs back at you but acquiesces, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, muñeca.”

You walk the flan back out to the dining area, setting it on the table as Javi follows behind with a set of plates, forks, and serving implements. You dole out a portion to each of you and sit down with a hesitant smile, waiting to see what they think of it. Chucho’s face lights up with the first bite, a smile on his lips that warms your heart.

“This tastes much like my wife’s did, mija. It’s wonderful.” 

You stop, tilting your head slightly at him as you study his expression closely. He’s never really talked about his wife before, at least not with any substance. You don’t know much about her, but you can certainly tell how much he loved her by the glimmer in his eyes at his admission.

“I’m glad you like it, Chucho. It’s always been one of my favorites.” Javi studies Chucho’s face similarly critically, and you think for a moment that you can see a twinkle in his eye that matches Chucho’s. If it didn’t feel overly intrusive, you’d consider asking them about her. You’d truly love to know, but it feels wrong. Like you’re sitting in on a moment that was never meant for you. You hold yourself, promising that you’ll bring it up sometime on a later date. Now isn’t the time.

Chucho eventually goes for seconds, as does Javi, and then you spend a few moments cleaning up from dessert. You’re standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes with care, when Chucho comes up to you and rests a hand on your shoulder. 

“Mija, you know you don’t have to do those.”

“You tell me every time, Chucho. I always do them. It’s my pleasure.” He smiles at you and gives your shoulder a light squeeze.

“Alright. Well, I’m off to bed. This old man is tired, and I think the two of you could use some time without me lingering.” You stop, turning to him.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re fine. I’ve seen Javi, oh… four other times this week?” You laugh, but he just smiles back at you and nods.

“I know. Still. I’m off to bed.”  He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he’s walking in the opposite direction toward the master bedroom. You shake your head in slight disbelief and turn back to the dishes.

A few minutes later, Javi is pulling up beside you with a rag, taking each dish from your hands and drying it before putting it away. Between the two of you, you get through it all rather quickly and in no time at all you’re drying your hands and turning around to Javi’s arms caging you in against the countertop edge. Your eyes go wide and you take in a sharp breath, suppressing what could have easily been a squeak, but you manage to keep it down.

“Hi,” You say, like a doofus.

“Hi.” Javi responds.

His smile grows impossibly wider then, as he shifts further into your space, wrapping your lips up with his own. You hum into the kiss automatically, hands lifting to find his hips and then the center of his lower back.

“Has it really only been a week?” He asks in between kisses. You sigh, closing your eyes softly as he works his mouth down the side of your neck. It feels like heaven on your skin.

“Yeah. Just a week. Feels like it's been ages longer than that, though.”

Javi pauses and chuckles for a moment. “Oh, good. It’s not just me, then?” You laugh lightly at him in response and lift your hands to either side of his face, pulling his face up to look him in the eyes.

“Definitely not.” He swoops in then to kiss you once again, a warmth blooming in your abdomen that feels like it's been settled there all week long. You do not understand how you’re falling so hard, so quickly, for this man. It’s unnerving.

Suddenly your world feels upside down for a moment as he leans down, picks you up to set you on the counter, and presses his body further into yours as his hips come forward to meet the edge of the countertop. His lips never leave yours, keeping you firmly connected to him as he moves you. You wrap your thighs around his hips, pressing your chest tightly into his, and you melt into the kiss. 

It’s impossible not to.

When he pulls away, he has a starry look in his eyes that melts your heart into an even bigger puddle than it already is. One finger pushes a piece of your hair to the side, away from your face, and he offers you that big, dumb, lopsided grin of his.

“Before we get too carried away, there’s something I want to show you.”

You smile curiously at him and answer, “Oh, yeah?” 

He nods and sets you down off of the counter for just a moment before he’s grabbing your hand and leading you toward the backdoor. Pulling you onto the porch before he shuts the door behind you both, he takes a seat on a small bench near the grill and pulls you into his lap, angling you so you can look up towards the sky.

“You probably don’t get this kind of view in the northeast, I don’t think. It’s one of the best things about Laredo.” You don’t really know what he’s talking about at first until you really take a moment to take in your surroundings. In front of you is the most brilliant sky - the night is clear, with no clouds to obstruct your vision, and you can make out every tiny pinpoint of light in the distance as you look out over the river into the endless sea of stars above you.

“Javi… this is- oh wow.” You’re in awe of it - you’ve never seen so many stars, taking up so much of the sky above you. You’ve never had the pleasure of looking out into the great expanse of the universe like this. It makes you feel infinitesimally small, almost meaningless, but then Javi’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist ground you back to him, back to this moment. Back to everything you’re feeling for him all at once.

The two of you sit there just like that for a very long while, wrapped up in the embrace and in the vision above you. You actually see a shooting star cross nearly from one side of your peripheral vision to the other, lacinand you lace your fingers into his, squeezing tightly as his other hand rubs soft circles into your thigh.

“What do you think, muñeca? Think you can see yourself staying in Laredo for a while?” You smile at his question and lean back into him a bit further.

“Yeah, I think I can.”

~ ~ ~

a/n - next part should be out sooner than this one! Already working on it! love yall so much.

NEXT PART (IV) HERE

#writing #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #pedro pascal #javier pena fanfiction #fanfic #no beta we die like men