#He just has to tease him a little bit first
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embbarnes ¡ 2 days ago
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Manhandle. | L.H
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summary: Feral-ish Logan is obsessed with you.
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warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Porn no plot | Soft dom!Logan | PiV | Unprotected sex | Swearing | Light degrading | Dirty talk | Cunnilingus | Aftercare
a/n: I will die on the hill that Logan loves his partners a little chubby. Idc. I didn't have the patience to edit this ignore mistakes pleaseee. Reposted after deleting, reprised a little bit but I didn't bother to edit it so ignore mistakes. ;; wc: 2.4k
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Logan cannot stand you for one reason and one reason alone: You drive him crazy.
Why the fuck are you so soft? Why do your hips sway so much? Why are you so doe eyed and sweet smelling?
His cock twitches in his pants as he sees you talking to another mutant. Fuck. He doesn't like it. He wants you for himself. He needs you for himself.
That's exactly what he does.
He grabs you and tugs you along, you of course go with him, being so sweet and naĂŻve...when you're alone, he practically rips your clothes off. He normally would tease and play with you more, but he can't help himself. He's too eager, his patience is diminished.
Your soft gasp when he tore the fabric from your body made his balls grow heavy and a low growl rumble out of him. You were beautiful to him, your body drove him crazy. He felt hotter than normal, like he was going to die if he didn't have you. You made the most pathetic sound when his hand pushed between your legs and felt your soft folds, his calloused fingertips finding that sweet little pearl. "Fuckin' wet for me...from rippin' y'r clothes off, huh? You like it like this? Bein' manhandled?"
You felt your face heat up and your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any second. You stammered, unable to come up with a solid reply as you pathetically tried while his thick fingers explored your folds confidently. They prodded your entrance, making you tense a bit.
"Y'r tight, my damn finger has a hard time gettin' in here...how are you gonna handle my cock, princess?" he grabbed your face with his free hand, tilting your head up as he kissed you. His lips were warm, the taste of cigar and whiskey on them, a hint of salt and jerky. You melted into his kiss, even though he was claiming you this way. His tongue pushed into your mouth, invading you and exploring every inch as if he owned you. His teeth gently bit your bottom lip, he didn't want to overwhelm you too much, not yet anyway.
"That's it...whimperin' for me...you love this, I can tell by how wet you are. Can't imagine my cock in there...it's so tiny...have you ever been fucked before?" he grunts deeply in your ear, the sound making your entire body react as you shake. Your nipples erect and feeling stimulated by the fabric of his shirt as he stands close enough to rub against you.
"Logan...I...mmn, I have I just...-"
"You've never been with me baby, I'll show ya what a real man can do. I know when y'r fakin' too, you won't have to do that with me." He chuckled, his hand moving away from your dripping core and he grabbed your plush hips, lifting you up while his hands massages and groped the meat of your ass and thighs. "Goddamn...these things..." He threw you onto his bed, his hand on your belly for a moment, kneading you.
"Logan-!"
"I gotcha...just let me take care of you..." Logan's voice was gentle, but he sounded slightly condescending as he spoke to you, the clear teasing undertone made you whimper in response. His hands pawed at you like a man who had seen a naked woman for the first time, on your breasts, sides, hips. Hs grabbed your thighs again, eagerly holding onto your flesh and spreading your legs apart for him. "Such a fat cunt you have, looks comfy, you'll treat my dick well won't you, sweet thing? Perfect little home for it...that's where it belongs isn't it? You're lost without my dick in you."
You squirmed below him, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he held you down. You couldn't deny how hot your pussy felt, you wanted to demand for him to stick it in, to just fuck you into the mattress, but you also didn't want to admit it, playing the game a bit. Besides, Logan was clearly enjoying how you were acting, so you kept it up.
"Ah...please..." You begged lightly, your legs falling limp and allowing him to open them wider. You felt so horny by now, Logan had a way of bringing it out of you. Your core felt like it was on fire, and you needed his touch more than air.
He placed open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, his teeth grazing the thin skin and biting your flesh teasingly. You could feel the slick, warm muscle of his tongue barely touch your sensitive skin as he continued to knowingly tease you. After his painfully slow movements, he finally got to your center, his pupils blown like he was on drugs.
Logan growled deeply, exhaling through slightly parted lips as his hands came around and held your thighs tightly. His head lowered, nose nudged your clit as this man took a deep inhale of your sex. Your face heated immediately, suddenly feeling embarrassed he was smelling you so intensely. His nose buried, your wetness covering it as he investigated further into you until he was satisfied memorizing your scent.
When he pulled up, he barely pulled away for you to say something about his little display and his lips latched onto your clit, knowing exactly where it was after mapping out your cunt mentally. He was torn between making you squirm and beg, or just taking what he wanted. You were intoxicating to him, he hadn't felt his cock throbbing to painfully before, patience was not an option right now.
You made the sweetest sound for him when his encased your clit in his mouth, his lips securing around that pretty pearl and he lightly sucked on it. His firm hands held you still while you naturally squirmed around from the stimulation, keeping you down even when you tried to buck into his mouth more. Logan pulled back enough for his breath to warm your swollen bud, and he grunted, "Stay still. You don't get to move. I'll make you cum, I'll decide when you've had enough."
The tiny whimper that left your trembling lips was enough encouragement, but he wanted to push a little more. So, the smug bastard leaned up and over you, glaring down, his wet lips shining against the dull light of the room peering through his always drawn curtains. Still, when the warm sunlight did peek through, he looked gorgeous.
"Say it. Say you understand."
"I...I understand..." you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, not realizing how tight it felt until you spoke again. He smirked down at you, his eyes raking over your form and he let his hands knead your body a bit more. "So soft...perfect for me. I can really throw you around hm? You can take it..." he groaned as he felt your body, his hands moving up to your breasts and holding them, massaging and pinching your nipples like an eager virgin.
Logan moved down again, his mouth drooled as he took your clit once more, his tongue lapping and teasing the bud before dipping inside your entrance. He tasted you, groaning like an animal at your taste as his tongue went deeper. You hooked your leg around his shoulder and pulled him closer, finding a loophole in keeping your hips still.
Luckily for you, he enjoyed it enough to allow it.
"Stop squirmin' princess...I've almost gotcha ready." He continued to work your pussy until he felt like you were ready enough. He pulled away and licked his lips, "Now...open those pretty lips." he swiped his fingers over your folds and then held them to your pouty face. "You're such a dirty girl...doing everything I say, aren't you?"
He lightly spanked your pussy, then pressed his dick into your folds and rubbed to slicken himself. When did he take his pants off?
You were interrupted when his fat head poked your entrance, forcing you to stretch out around the soft flesh and allow him in. You mewled desperately, the burn of it was so addicting. "Lo...Logan..!"
"Shh, sh, you can take it." he whispered and pushed until his head popped inside. You gasped, just his head made you feel dizzy. And he kept going.
Inch after inch.
You were squirming and crying softly, he was so big, ugh it felt amazing but overwhelming all at once. "L-Lo..Logan, I..aah," you blabbered, his thumbs swiped your temples as he chuckled down at you, his body keeping you warm. He pressed his scruffy cheek into yours so he could whisper to you while his hips rocked against you, his wet head smacking gentle, sloppy kisses to your swollen cervix.
"Shh, good girl, gooood girl," he praised you in a low, soothing tone, his voice contradicting what his body was doing to you. You felt like you were on fire, pleasure was shooting through every inch of you while that delightful burn remained as strong as ever. "Y'r doin' good...so good. Takin' all of me inside ya...knew you could."
Logan's hips moved faster inside you, driving himself in and out at a much better pace for the both of you. He held your legs up and watched himself move in and out of you, admiring the beautiful arousal that coated into his curls. He deliberately made slow, long thrusts so you could feel the mold of his cock perfectly.
Every vein, the spongy head, how his cock formed your velvet walls and made you adjust.
It was everything you could've wanted from him.
While you memorized the shape of his dick, he suddenly threw your legs around his waist and he leaned over you, causing your hips to come up and off the bed a little. He began to drive himself inside at an animalistic, rough pace while he held you. His teeth bared as he let out the deepest snarl you ever heard from him. "You make me fuckin' wild, baby...look what y'r doin'...I'm actin' like how I should. A fuckin' animal."
You sobbed lightly from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, his cock hitting that delicious spongy spot inside that made you see stars. "Logan!! M'gonna cum...!" you cried, your fists balling the sheets by your head as you let out all your little sounds you tried to hide.
There was no reason to hide them anymore, honestly.
He kept going just as he was, knowing his movements and pace were perfect for you. "That's it...yeah baby, cum on my cock, show me how much you like it, milk my cock." Logan held your hips firm, his fingers dug into your flesh as he focused on his thrusts, driving deeper and deeper.
You finally let out a strangled cry, your vision blurring as your body released around him, clamping down on his dick like a vice and almost messing up his rhythm. Logan hissed, "G-goddamn-"
"I'm cumming, fuck! Don't stop, keep going, keep fucking me!" you screamed desperately, reaching you and clawing his shoulder blades, your hips rocking against his thrusts as your mind just focused on riding out your orgasm for as long as possible. He moved with you until he finally let loose, one single thrust in and his cock swelled and exploded against your pretty cervix, spraying his cum inside and filling up your little hole. He dripped out of you as he continued to fill you up, cum squeezing past his cock plugging your pussy, but the sheer amount of it couldn't be contained completely.
Logan's chest rose and fell quickly, his skin in a thin sheen from sweat, as was yours, and you both stilled as you regained your breaths together. You were in a complete daze, your mind foggy from pleasure and good hormones, his dick still buried inside you and felt so right.
"Good girl...fuck, my girl." he grumbled and nudged your head to the side with his own, kissing your jaw. "Did so well...down we go, easy," he lowered your legs while speaking to you gently, pulling himself from your body and watching as his cum flowed out of you. You whined at the absence of him, he just tsked and shushed you.
"Ah, don't give me that...we have to get you cleaned up. Be good for me, and I'll make sure you're nice and cozy after." Logan chuckled at your dazed expression, lifting you up a bit and smirking at how you whined into him.
"Logan....noo, just a little longer..." You pleaded lightly, trying your best to convince him, but he was not going to give in. Instead he picked you up with ease, your weight didn't bother him in the slightest, and he carried you to the bathroom.
"Clean first, then we can lay all you want." He set you down in the bathroom, knowing you were very exhausted by now and most likely coming down from your orgasm high, so he made the clean up quick. His touches were gentle, carefully washing the rag over your body and between your legs, getting all the sticky cum washed away. He stood behind you and kissed the nape of your neck, giving you goosebumps even under the hot water. "Doin' good for me...keep it up, we're almost done princess..."
When you were finally finished, you were so relieved to lay on the clean bed. Your body was much more worn out than you thought, before you collapsed, your legs trembled and almost refused to hold you up. You snuggled into the sheets, smelling heavily of Logan plus a hint of the earthy cologne he rarely wears.
He joined you a few minutes later, his strong arms wrapped around you and held you close. His hand slowly caressed up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging you. His presence and the tiredness hit you after cleaning, and the drop of hormones made you want to sleep. Your body turned towards him, your face burying in his chest as you let out a shaky breath.
"Easy...I gotcha...sleepy girl. Go on and take a nap, I'll stick with ya until you wake...promise." He kissed the crown of your head and held you firmly against him, knowing you were going to fall asleep any second. You drove him so wild but he also felt a strong need for you in other ways. He wanted you for himself in every shape and form, you were so beautiful, and he would make sure you believed it and saw yourself as he did.
If he couldn't convince you with words, well...he can always fuck you again and make you see.
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Thanks for reading - em 🌿
Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest
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yemmuis ¡ 2 days ago
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thinking about roommate!choso, who, after fucking you for the first time, decides its the only thing he likes anymore.
besides spending time with you, and watching movies with you, and smoking with you.
you know those “physical needs, physiological needs, spiritual needs” pyramids you learn about in highschool? yeah, chosos goes fucking you in bed, fucking you in his car, fucking you on the bathroom counter, fucking you on the couch, and then—and only then—comes eat, sleep, drink.
he cant stop himself. i mean, really—when you’re walking around with your ass practically hanging out of your shorts, tight shirt with no bra underneath, how can you blame him for bending you over the nearest surface and barely taking the time to pull your panties off? (he doesn’t, just pushes them to the side or pulls them down enough to expose your wet cunt. just for his stupidly big cock to bully into your cervix as usual.)
and how can you blame him, when hes so sweet to you when hes quite literally pounding you over the back of the couch? all that comes out of his mouth is “i’m sorry, baby, ‘m sorry, but you know how i get when you tease me” and “i love you, thank you” over and over and over until hes pumping you full of his cum and then dropping to his knees to watch while he stuffs you full of his fingers to make sure you cant fake cummin’ for him.
so what, he’s a little anxious. what is he if he cant please you, though?
and maybe he has a bit of a…disregard for protection. it just feels so much better when he isnt hindering himself with a condom, obviously!
and maybe he likes watching you drool into his chest when hes done with you; watching his nut ooooze out of your cunt and make a mess wherever hes fucked you this time.
sure, you scold him after every time— “you gotta use protection next time, cho, i don’ wanna get pregnant.” you grumble, even while your lips are locked with his and just by his half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils you know hes not quite done with you yet.
deep down, you know maybe you wouldn’t mind having chosos babies.
not that you’ll tell him that. he’s very weak to your suggestions, and you don’t know what you’d do if he got it in his head that he wanted to marry you and pump you full of his kids.
…maybe you two should have a talk on where this whole roommates-to-fuckbuddies thing is going.
note :: i have something big in the works i proooommmyyy i jus need 2 find the time 2 write ☹️☹️ soon u shall have ur fix my babies i promise
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xxsquiddkiddxx ¡ 3 days ago
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Heels ~ Viktor x Reader
Pronouns for reader: She/Her
Relationship type: Platonic, romantic feelings, slight enemies to lovers if you unfocus your eyes a bit
General Idea: Viktor used to hate the sound of those damn boots of hers, but now he's grown to find an odd sense of comfort in the noise. Along with... a series of other feelings.
Content Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Viktor being sassy, s1 Viktor, Takes place between S1E3~E4, Viktor's kinda down bad but in a denial way, Viktor also isn't good at realizing he has feelings for the reader, Jayce needs a 32hr nap
A/N: My Viktor headcanons got a LOT more love than I thought they would... so I decided to write some more Viktor XD
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(Nobody's POV, but it's mostly told. through Viktor's thoughts)
~☆~
The lab was pretty much silent. The only sounds heard were the sounds of Viktor tinkering with a Hextech device and the occasional flipping of pages as (Y/N) read some notes that Jayce had written. It was late, definetly past midnight as the two worked.
"(Y/N)," Viktor says, breaking the silence. The girl's head pops up at the sound of her name. "Come here for a second? I need a second pair of hands."
"Be right there." She says, finishing the page she was on. She stands up and walks towards him, the sound of her boots hitting the tile as she walks.
Clack
Click
Clack
Viktor used to hate the sound of her boots. "Those damn boots are so annoying," He had complained to Jayce during the first week of (Y/N) working as a part-time assistant. "Click clack click clack, drives me insane!" He had mocked before sighing.
"Viktor... don't both your boots AND your cane make that noise as well?"Jayce had responded, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. This made Viktor at a loss for words.
"Well... It's annoying when she does it!" He had sassed back in response, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
That was 3 years ago. Now, he found a weird sense of comfort in hearing the sound of her boots hit the floor. He couldn't explain why, enjoyment of familiarity maybe?
"What's up?" (Y/N) says, standing behind Viktor. The smell of her perfume was almost overwhelming to him, overloading his senses. Which was weird, seeings as it must've been almost 13 hours since she'd last applied perfume. And that doesn't last long... was he delusional? Or maybe just tired? Whatever. It doesn't matter.
"Yeah, I just need you to hold this in place." Viktor says, not even looking up from what he's doing. He gestures to a little piece of metal he's holding. (Y/N) leans over Viktor and holds the piece in place as requested. The scientist trys his best to ignore the feeling of her closeness and the racing of his heart... holy crap was it warm in here? It must've been. Although it seemed strange to him that it was magically warm in here all of a sudden. This spirals him into a memory, a memory that took place a little less than a week prior to now.
Viktor sat at his desk, for once not to work on Hextech, but to run his hands through his hair and stay deep in thought.
"Viktor?" Jayce asked. "Are you OK? You haven't been as focused as you normally are today. Did something happen?"
"I think... I think there's something genuinely wrong with me." Viktor says. "Like... maybe I'm coming down with something?? I don't know." Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane slightly for support.
"Oh?" Jayce asks, raising an eyebrow. "Could you, uh, possibly elaborate on that?"
"Well, for one everytime Ms.(L/N) comes near me I about have a damn heart attack." Viktor says, his cane clacking softly on the floor as he paces. "Like yesterday, perfect example. She accidently brushed my hand when she was passing me a paper and I actually thought I was dying."
Jayce suppresses a smile, trying not to laugh. Was Viktor really getting THIS worked up... over a little crush? "Oh?" Jayce says, still suppressing a smile. "Is that it?"
"Whenever she's near me, I swear to the gods that I become hyperaware of... like... everything." Viktor says. "Like the room feels warmer, her perfume or her shampoo is ALL I can smell, I'm almost convinced I know every single speckle of color in her eyes... I think I might actually be going crazy." Viktor says, stopping his pacing. "I'm positive. I've actually hit the breaking point and am decending into insanity."
Jayce now can't help but laugh. Maybe it was his lack of sleep from working on Hextech for days on end, maybe it was the seriousness in Viktor's voice about his "decent to madness." Jayce's laughter came out as almost wheezes due to how hard he was laughing.
Viktor throws his hands up in exasperatedness. "Jayce!" Viktor scolds. "This ISN'T funny! There's-"
This just makes Jayce laugh more and more. "Yes it is, Viktor." Jayce manages to say through wheezes. He's holding onto the desk for support as he laughs. It gets to the point where passersby become mildly concerned for the scientist's wellbeing. "I assure you you're not decending to madness."
"Then what the hell is going on????" Viktor exclaims, collapsing into his chair.
"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine." Jayce says, wiping the tears of laughter away as he tries to steady his breathing.
"Viktor?" The sound of his name snaps him out of the memory. "You good? I think I said your name like five times." (Y/N) says with a chuckle. Viktor shakes his head slightly.
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Viktor says, continuing what he was doing. He tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands, the side of his own hand pressed against Ms. (L/N)'s own hand. When he's done. He about throws the screwdriver down. "Thank you for your assistance." Viktor says, the weight off his shoulders earning a little sigh of relief.
"Was that all you needed?" (Y/N) asks.
"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Viktor says. (Y/N) hums in response, walking over to her desk. Click, clack, click, clack. Her boots echo in the room. She grabs her coat and walks towards Viktor again.
"I'm gonna head out then." She says. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound of her boots ring in Viktor's head, a haunting sound that he didn't actually mind having on replay in his brain. "You should too soon." She says, her voice kind and soft.
Viktor's stomach feels like it's about to leap out of his body. Even though it was scientifically impossible, he couldn't help but worry about it. "I will soon." He says, the softness in his voice actually shocking him. Normally he'd just lie out his teeth and sleep in the lab, or not sleep at all. However, when he said that he would... he truly meant it. His eyes move away from the project and to (Y/N). "I'm just gonna finish this little bit up."
(Y/N) smiles, it's tired and small, but it's still a smile nonetheless. Seeing her smile along made the corners of his lips feel like they were moving on their own. He suppresses a smile the best he can, but it still shows on his face. "Goodnight, Viktor." She says, her voice still soft. She didn't speak full volume, and that for some reason made Viktor's heart rate skyrocket.
"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He says, the same tone and volume as (Y/N). She turns and walks out of the room. Click, clack, click, clack. He listens to the sound of her shoes until they completely fade out.
"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine."
Viktor didn't have a crush on (Y/N)... did he?
~☆~
For more fics: my masterlist
Feel free to request fics!!!
~Squeed
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euthymiya ¡ 19 hours ago
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part one ; office mate! gojo ; company heir! gojo ; female intern! reader ; fluff ; pre getting together
Satoru is good at getting things he wants. It’s not because he’s spoiled (although he’s that, too) but rather, it’s because he’s persistent. Annoyingly so. Persistent in that way where he doesn’t necessarily earn what he wants, but scores it just because the other party is tired enough to cave for the sake of some peace.
Case example: you.
You sit across from him as he happily sips on his excessively expensive coffee from all the extra syrups.
“How can you have that much sugar?” You cringe.
He raises an amused brow as he hums, “Because I don’t choose to be miserable. You should try it sometime.”
Glaring, you roll your eyes before taking a sip of your own coffee. Satoru is at least nice and chivalrous enough to pay for your coffee—although, knowing what you do now, it’s not exactly as though he can’t afford it. You’re pretty sure being the heir to the company you intern for means he’s loaded in enough money that a simple iced coffee isn’t too much of a dent in his pockets.
You give him an unimpressed frown before getting to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns the company?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” you hiss, “I’ve been passive aggressively calling you a lazy asshole for two months!”
“Do you change your mind about that?” He asks infuriatingly calmly.
“No,” you admit. You take a long look at him before nodding in confirmation as you repeat, “No, I don’t.”
He pouts a little at that, still cute and aggravating at the same time. “Hey,” he says, only a little wounded and a whole lot excessively dramatic. You can tell he didn’t get a lot of attention growing up with the way he pulls theatrics. Something about the psychology of unmet emotional needs as a child from your one semester of psych in college comes back. “You don’t have to say it so condescendingly.”
“Well, you are lazy,” you point out. He shrugs because…well, it’s a fair point. “But now I know why.”
“So what, if you knew my old man was our big boss, you’d be nicer to me? Is that it?”
You crinkle your nose and give him a look of disbelief. “No,” you say—it’s almost amused. The first ounce of humor you’ve shown around him at all. “But I wouldn’t have wasted my energy caring that you’re a deadweight in the office.”
“Ouch,” he pouts, “I bought the coffee machine on our floor!”
“It’s getting rather faulty,” you hum, “You should consider investing in another one for us.”
Satoru likes that about you. You’re interesting. Interesting not because you’re exceptionally smart or all that impressive—not that you’re bad by any means. Being accepted as an intern here must mean your resume has a degree of prestige to it, but you’re just like any other person in the building. Except, instead of shrugging off his bratty, obnoxious self, you seem to care a great deal about what he does.
It greatly amuses him enough that you’ve sparked his interest.
“You’re fun,” he chuckles, “I like you. You’re not boring.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” you bat your lashes, sarcastically giving him a dreamy sigh, “Not boring. How charming of you.”
He grins wider, and something in your heart does a little bit of a clench. It’s so…pretty. Everything about him is pretty. The clean, pristine button down with perfectly ironed pants. The soft, messy hair that somehow adds to his expensive look rather than take away. Those bright, piercing blue eyes that feel like you’re lost in infinity when you look into them.
He’s pretty. Pretty annoying, too—but pretty all the same.
“I’m working on it,” he murmurs.
“What? Your manners?” You snort.
“My charm,” he corrects.
“We might be here for quite some time then,” you tease. You don’t know what it is. Falling into a bantering back and forth with him is so easy—so amusing and, if you’re honest, a tiny bit exciting.
Maybe a background of wealth and fortune makes a man appealing like that. Or maybe he’s just likable. You’re not sure yet.
“You’re saying you’ll be here waiting for me to get there?” He raises a brow, winking as he adds, “So maybe you’re charmed after all.”
“That’s a stretch,” you pretend to scoff. Nevermind the hardly hidden smile on your face—that means nothing. “I just want to watch you fail, that’s all.”
“And if I succeed?” He challenges, looking at you expectantly.
You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge him in whatever petty games he has going on. “In what, being charming?”
“Yes,” he nods, “What if I succeed in being an irresistible dreamboat of an office neighbor?”
“I doubt that’ll happen,” you bite your lip in an attempt to fight back a large, dimpled grin. It’s funny, you think—just up until a few hours ago, all he ever managed to do was pull your lips into a scowl. Now, it feels like it’s impossible not to stretch them into a smile. “But, if it does, I suppose I’ll eat my own words.”
“No,” Satoru shakes his head, lips curled into a serious, unsatisfied frown, “No that simply won’t do. I need better than that.”
“Okay,” you finally laugh. It’s radiant. It comes from your belly and vibrates through your chest. He’s somehow good at it—just one coffee grab during your lunch break, and he’s already managed to earn the sound of your joy so easily. Something about that tickles a weird, unfamiliar spot under your ribcage. “Lay out your terms.”
“You have to be my girlfriend if I manage to make your eyes turn into hearts over my handsomely unbeatable appeal.”
It’s cheeky, his grin. Wide, confident, and still boyishly hopeful. You start to wonder why you ever disliked such an easy to fall for smile.
“That’s pretty bold,” you note.
“I’m bold about the things I want.” You pretend that those words don’t make your heart do a helpless flutter.
“Okay,” you nod, agreeing as you take a final sip of your coffee and hand him the empty cup, “I’ll agree to these unlikely terms. You can start by bringing me another coffee.”
“You got it, boss,” he salutes before doing a giddy little jog to the counter and ordering you another coffee. It’s cute. It has your heart in a scarily fast chokehold.
Somewhere in the heat of the moment, as you watch him fumble over his wallet and almost drop his card while he goes to pay, you think he may have already won the terms to this ridiculous agreement.
But you won’t tell him that, you think. Just to drag out the eager, hopeful look in his eyes that dart over at you and shoot you a sly wink.
———————————
here is part two as promised for @enyathedrakaina bc they sent me cat pics
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supernotnatural2005 ¡ 2 days ago
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'Ride em' Cowgirl'
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Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.
AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️
Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof
Main Masterlist
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The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.
Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.
You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.
You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.
Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”
Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”
Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.
Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.
Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.
“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.
Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in. 
Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled. 
"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”
"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”
Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long. 
His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer. 
You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long. 
His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more. 
“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.
It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.
You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. 
"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again. 
“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length. 
His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again. 
The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers. 
His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same. 
As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress. 
You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him. 
He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub. 
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings. 
He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast. 
“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple. 
You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit. 
“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring. 
“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him. 
Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless. 
“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh. 
You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away. 
With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure. 
You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you. 
You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you. 
Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight. 
“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand. 
Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed. 
“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth. 
“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.
“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you? 
“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites. 
“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork. 
You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more. 
You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition. 
You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement. 
You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready. 
“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you. 
“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides. 
“I have no doubts, baby.” 
In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed. 
“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.
Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure. 
All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win. 
With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight. 
“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop. 
You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you. 
His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release. 
Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself. 
“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.  
“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you. 
Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.  
You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him. 
"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly. 
"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his. 
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AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀
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greengoblinswifey ¡ 3 days ago
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Betrayed By Blood—Nicholas Chavez x Fiancée!Reader
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summary— you think you’re getting married to the love of your life but it all comes crashing down when you discover at your engagement party that nicholas has been cheating on you with your older sister. based on this request.
warnings— angst, cheating, heartbreak, betrayal.
a/n— i am such a slut for angst, keep it comin!
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿
You had always been the kind of person who believed in love wholeheartedly. When Nicholas entered your life three years ago, you couldn’t believe your luck. He was everything you’d ever wanted, kind, successful acting career, charming, and so ridiculously in love with you that it almost felt unreal. You were the envy of your friends, your family—hell, even your own self at times. He made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. He was your best friend, your lover, your everything.
But what made it even more special was how seamlessly he fit into your world. The way he would light up when your family talked about their traditions, his willingness to learn about your culture, how your older sister, despite the years of distance between you two—had begun to bond with him. It was all so perfect. Nicholas had even made a point of getting close to your older sister, knowing how much she meant to you, even if it made you feel a twinge of discomfort sometimes. You were still getting used to the closeness between them, but it didn’t bother you much. She was just looking out for you, making sure the man you were about to marry was really the one.
Your sister was always a bit more distant from you. You’d never had the kind of bond that some people shared with their siblings—she was a few years older, more independent, and you’d always felt that divide. But when Nicholas came into the picture, something shifted. She started coming around more. She started asking about your relationship, checking in on how things were going. You even started enjoying the time she spent with him, seeing how happy he made you. Nicholas always appreciated your family and their cultural traditions, always joking around with your uncles about how they would “teach him the ropes” on making your culture’s food. They’d all gathered around him, with your uncles and cousins giving him their best cooking tips, even asking him to come to every cookout. It made you laugh how easily he fit in. It was exactly what you had always dreamed of—a man who loved you and respected your family’s values.
The engagement had come a little earlier than expected, but when he proposed to you, you couldn’t say no. You had been telling Nicholas for months that you didn’t want to wait forever. You wanted a future, you wanted a family, and most importantly, you wanted him. He had been apprehensive at first about rushing into things, but soon, he was on board. Your family was thrilled, your uncles teased him, and your mom cried with joy. Your sister, though not exactly the most emotionally expressive person, seemed genuinely happy for you both.
The engagement party was the culmination of everything, a massive celebration of your love. It was your moment, your chance to show everyone what Nicholas meant to you. And you couldn’t wait.
The night started off perfectly. Nicholas, looking dashing in his black suit, was by your side, his hand in yours as you made your rounds. Your sister, radiant as always, stood nearby, laughing with your family, as everyone celebrated the two of you. You danced with Nicholas, his lips brushing your neck as he whispered sweet things into your ear. You felt safe in his arms, protected. His smile was everything, and in that moment, you truly believed your life was everything you had ever wanted.
Your uncles, rowdy as usual, crowded around Nicholas, teasing him about being a part of their “cookout crew” now. They joked about his need to learn how to make your cultural dishes, like he’d be joining them for the next family cookout. You loved it. It felt like the piece of the puzzle you’d been waiting for your whole life, a family who accepted him, and him, genuinely embracing them.
But then, as the night progressed, you began to notice things. Little things. The way your sister kept laughing a little too loudly at Nicholas’ jokes. The way her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long when she made a joke, just a touch too intimate for your liking. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the alcohol, on the festive mood. Your sister had always been affectionate with the people she liked, but something about the way she looked at him made your stomach turn.
It wasn’t even the physical closeness. It was the way she looked at him, like she was seeing him in a way you hadn’t seen before. You shrugged it off at first. He was your fiancé, after all. You shouldn’t be feeling jealous. She was your sister, and you wanted her to like him, to approve of him. This was nothing. Just a moment of insecurity.
But when Nicholas disappeared to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Half an hour had passed, and he still hadn’t come back. Your sister had gone missing too. They were both nowhere to be found, and a quiet alarm began to ring in the back of your mind.
You finally decided to check on them. You climbed the stairs, heels clicking against the floor. The music from downstairs muffled everything around you, and as you walked down the hallway, your heart beat faster with every step.
You remembered he’d said he was going to the bathroom. The upstairs bathroom door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. You pushed the door open and peeked inside.
What you saw made your blood run cold.
Nicholas, your fiancé, was kissing your older sister with a passion that made your stomach drop. His hands were tangled in her curls, gripping it as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Her hands were all over his chest, moving to grip his bulge, and the way they kissed each other was everything you hadn’t seen from him in your three years together. There was nothing tender about it, nothing sweet. Just raw, ferocious hunger. He had her pressed against the counter, and they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you.
You froze, every ounce of warmth drained from your body. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind refused to accept what your eyes were seeing.
And then, your sister’s voice, breathless, echoed in the room.
“Take me right here,” she purred.
Nicholas smirked against her lips. “Later tonight,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Tonight, I’ll give you this dick and everything you want.”
Your sister laughed, a sound you would never forget. “She’s so stupid,” she said, hands trailing down his chest. “Thinking you actually chose her.”
And Nicholas, your fiancĂŠ, laughed. He laughed.
The sound was like a knife to your heart.
You couldn’t watch anymore. You turned and stumbled away from the door, the world around you spinning. Your legs felt weak, your heart pounding in your ears. You had to get away. You had to get out of there.
You made your way back down the stairs, your brown skin feeling somehow drained of color, your chest tight with the weight of everything crashing down.
You sat on the couch, numb, staring into the distance as the laughter and chatter of the party continued around you. Everyone was so oblivious. How could they be so blind?
You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the empty glass in your hand, feeling the bile of betrayal and heartbreak rise in your throat. But the truth was clear now. The person you had trusted most in this world, the man you thought would be yours forever, had betrayed you. And your sister, the one person who was supposed to have your back, had been the one to help him destroy everything.
Everything was fucking over.
The world felt like it was closing in on you. You stood in the corner of your sister's yard, away from the noise and the chaos of the party, trying to breathe in the cool night air, but it didn’t help. It was all too much. Your thoughts raced as your mom, drunk on Hennessy, slipped out the door to check on you.
“Are you okay, baby? You don’t look so good,” she slurred, her words barely hanging together.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Just a little too much to drink,” you said quickly, offering her a smile, though it felt like your face was frozen. You didn’t want her to see the turmoil churning inside you. You didn’t want anyone to see the cracks in the perfect picture you had spent so long trying to paint.
She frowned slightly, swaying on her feet as she stared at you with unsteady eyes. “You sure? You seem so off. Maybe lay off the Henny, huh?”
You laughed weakly, swallowing the bitter taste of your own anger. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good but maybe you should too, Just need some air. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She nodded, barely convincing herself, before she staggered back inside. You could still hear her slurring through the door. “You’ve got such a good man, don’t forget that,” she called over her shoulder, her voice drifting on the warm night breeze.
“I know, I thought so too,” you said under your breath.
But now, everything had shattered. You stood in the cold, looking out at the darkened street, your thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt. Maybe she’s right, you thought. Maybe I was stupid. So stupid for not seeing it earlier.
The signs had always been there, hadn’t they? The way Nicholas and your sister would hang out without you, their bodies too close, the long hugs that lasted a bit too long. The way his hands would graze her shoulder or her back, like it was something casual—like it didn’t mean anything. But you had been so blinded by wanting to prove to yourself, to your family, that Nicholas was the one. That he loved you. And that your sister, the one person who you thought would always have your back, would approve.
You had wanted her approval so badly.
The signs were obvious, though. The way he would always find a reason to make her laugh, to make her feel special. He’d tell her jokes only she seemed to find funny, or the way he’d always help her with things around the house when he was at your family gatherings. The way he would stare at her ass when she’d walk away from the table, thinking you didn’t see it. The small, subtle touches, how he always found a reason to touch her arm or her back. It had been happening all along, and yet, you had made excuses. They’re just close, they’re family.
But it wasn’t just that. It was the way they’d look at each other. It was the way they had always made quick excuses to disappear for a few moments, always sneaking off together, but you had never thought much of it. Just friends, you had told yourself. But now, standing in the dark, it hit you like a ton of bricks.
They had been sneaking around behind your back for so long, and you had been too blind to see it. How could you have been so stupid?
You suddenly felt dizzy, as if the weight of it all had just crashed down on you all at once. You knew you couldn’t stay out there much longer. You had to get away, had to leave. You couldn’t stand to see their faces, couldn’t stand to pretend that everything was okay.
Before you could even collect your thoughts, you felt a presence behind you.
“What are you doing out here, mama?” Nicholas’ voice cut through the silence. It was warm, too warm, and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t turn to face him. You didn’t want to.
“I just needed some air,” you lied, trying to sound casual. You didn’t trust your voice. “The alcohol’s got me feeling all weird.”
He stepped closer, as if concerned, his hand coming up to touch your arm. “Well, let’s get you back inside. What’s wrong?”
You winced, flinching instinctively as he tried to kiss your cheek. You jerked away from him. “I’m not feeling too great, honestly,” you muttered, your voice breaking just enough to make him pause.
Nicholas laughed lightly. “It’s just the booze, babe. You know how it gets you all—worked up. Hope you’re not getting cold feet now,” he added, his tone teasing, but his eyes scanning your face too closely. “You know I love you, right?”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You fought the urge to lash out, to scream at him, a bitter laugh. You love me? Sure, you do.
You managed a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you nodded, playing the part. “I know, Nicholas. I know,” you said through gritted teeth.
You’re full of shit.
You both made your way back inside, where the party was still in full swing. Your mom was laughing with your uncles, and your sister, who seemed to have too much to drink. She was swaying a little too much, her lipstick smudged, her hair a little messier than usual.
You couldn’t help but stare at her. How could she? How could she betray you like this? The woman who had held you as a baby, the woman who was supposed to protect you, be your big sister—your own flesh and blood.
She walked up to you with that sickly sweet smile, her hand on your arm, as if nothing was wrong. “You guys should stay over tonight. You're both too drunk to drive,” she said, her voice syrupy, but you could hear the underlying smugness.
You forced a smile, but it was more of a sneer. You didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to be in the same room. “Thanks, but I think we’re going to head out,” you said, your voice cold and distant.
“Are you sure? Also, you look beautiful tonight,” she said, a little too loud, her eyes flicking to Nicholas. “You’re so lucky to have him.” She smiled at him, that smile that made you want to throw up.
You could barely stand it. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” you muttered. “But we should get going.”
Your sister didn’t argue. Instead, she waved it off, telling Nicholas that he should clean up with her, but you cut her off sharply. “No, she said she’d clean up, so Nicholas just come to bed since she wants us to stay so bad,” you said to him, your voice firm. He didn’t question it, but you could see the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.
They both paused. Shocked that you’re not letting them play their little game anymore.
He nodded reluctantly, muttering something under his breath, and followed you upstairs.
Once in the room, you started to get ready for bed. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, telling you how much he loved your family and how he couldn’t wait to be a part of it all. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was already part of it—in the worst way possible.
As you climbed into bed, you turned to face away from him, feeling the warmth of his body beside you, knowing how wrong it all was. He pressed kisses along your back, but you flinched with every touch, every word he whispered. You knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to lull you to sleep so he could slip away.
You pretended to fall asleep, lying still as he shifted beside you. He waited a few minutes before slowly nudging you off of him, making sure you were still “asleep” before getting out of bed. You kept your eyes closed, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You heard the sound of him leaving the room.
The tears started to come then. One single tear fell from your eye, and that was it. He was really going to do it. He was going to go fuck your sister, and you knew it wasn’t the first time.
The tears didn’t stop as you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t know when he came back to bed, but by then, you didn’t care.
The next morning, the air was thick with tension. Nicholas, ever the actor, was trying to act like nothing was wrong, all smiles and charm, but you couldn’t look at him. Not after everything.
“You okay?” he asked, trying to make conversation on the car ride home. His hand rested on your thigh, cold, stiff. Not warm like it used to be.
You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, trying to keep yourself together.
When you got home, you walked straight to the bedroom without a word. He followed behind, still trying to act normal, trying to act like he hadn’t just betrayed you in the worst way possible.
You turned to him, your voice hard, cold. “How long?”
He looked at you, confused. “How long what?”
“How long have you been fucking my sister?” you spat. His face went white.
He started rambling, trying to justify it, trying to come up with excuses, but you stopped him cold. You looked him dead in the eyes, your voice low but sharp enough to pierce through his fumbling excuses. “Cut the bullshit, Nicholas. How long have you been fucking my sister?”
His face drained of color, and for a split second, you saw panic flicker in his eyes. But then he straightened up, his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words. He tried to spin some story, but it was all nonsense, just meaningless rambling that you couldn’t stomach.
“I— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, baby, I—”
You cut him off, disgust twisting your insides. “Fuck you. You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught.”
His face fell. He opened his mouth again, but you weren’t listening anymore. You pulled the ring from your finger and tossed it at him with all the force you could muster. The diamond caught the light before it clattered to the floor, a symbol of everything that had ended between the two of you.
“Don’t. Don’t even try to fix this,” you spat, your voice cold, firm. “I’m done. Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face again.”
He took a step back, his eyes wide with panic, a mix of guilt and anger on his face. He pleaded with you, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You could barely look at him.
“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered, the betrayal so thick in your chest it was suffocating. “I trusted you. And I trusted her.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I never want to see either of you again.”
Nicholas looked like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. His face was a mess of guilt, frustration, and desperation as he turned on his heel, heading for the door.
When the door slammed behind him, it felt like the last thing holding you together had fallen apart. The silence that followed felt deafening, and as soon as you heard the sound of his car pull away from the driveway, the floodgates opened.
You had never felt so broken in your life.
You didn’t wait for long before pulling out your phone and dialing your sister’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice so sweet, like everything was fine. Like nothing had changed.
“Hey sis! What’s up?” she said, her tone light.
You didn't waste time with pleasantries. “Fuck you bitch,” you snapped, your voice filled with venom. “Two-faced whore. I never want to see you again.”
There was silence on the other end. You could almost hear her gasp, her breath catching as she processed the words. But you didn’t give her a chance to respond.
“Stay the hell out of my life. I never want to hear from you again. Ever,” you added, your voice colder than ice.
You didn’t even wait for her to respond before you hung up. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear her lies. The texts and calls came flooding in immediately, frantic apologies, explanations that you knew were all just bullshit. You didn’t care.
You blocked her number without a second thought.
The betrayal was suffocating, and you couldn’t stop shaking. You wanted to scream. You wanted to burn it all down. But instead, you curled into yourself on the bed, every part of you hollow. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry at first. The tears wouldn’t come, not until the numbness wore off, and then they came in a flood, unstoppable, overwhelming.
Your heart felt like it was ripped in two. Betrayed. By the man who had promised to love you forever. By the sister who had held you when you were small, the one person who had always been your protector. Now she was just another person who had turned her back on you.
You lay there, letting the tears fall until there were no more to shed. And when it was over, there was nothing left but silence and a cold, gnawing emptiness.
The next few days passed in a haze. You didn’t leave your room, didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t.
When you finally found the strength to move, to get out of bed and go through the motions, everything felt like a shadow of what it used to be. Your heart was still broken, but the anger was sharper now. You were angry at them both. Angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner. Angry at your family for not being who you thought they were.
But most of all, you were angry because you knew deep down that you would never trust anyone the same way again. How could you?
The world felt different now—like it had shifted, and you were no longer sure where you stood.
But in that anger, there was clarity. You were done with Nicholas. You were done with her. You didn’t need them. You would be okay. Maybe not right now, maybe not in the next few months, but eventually, you would find peace.
And you’d never let anyone—anyone, take that away from you again.
The betrayal was deep, but so was your strength.
You weren’t going to let them destroy you.
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capquinn ¡ 2 days ago
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how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him
omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭
Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.
“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.
But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.
“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.
“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.
He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.
He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.
“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”
You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Yep.”
And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.
“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”
And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.
“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.
But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.
“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”
And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”
His brow shot up. “A prank?”
“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.
He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.
“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”
“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”
Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.
“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.
His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.
“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.
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joelmillerisapunk ¡ 21 hours ago
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Lunch Break | 3.6K
Javier PeĂąa x coworker f!reader
Summary: Javi edges you at work
Warnings: unprotected p in v, fingering, oral, reader has hair that's pullable, vibrator, public sex, lots of edging
Notes: This is the only Javier fic I've ever written so sorry if everything is not great to his characterization. I hope you enjoy. A big thank you to the sweetest @sawymredfox for reading this for me and helping me with the Spanish love you so much! Thank you to my love @thundermartini for reading bits and pieces for me love you love you! and @syd-djarin for the mood board love youuuu!
Masterlist
Reality dawns on you while seated on the hard black leather chair in the conference room—everyone filing in—you realize with a sinking heart that in your haste this morning, you neglected to remove your vibrator from its spot in your back pocket ‘Fuck’,  you chide yourself silently, 'you can be so stupid sometimes.'
With an air of nonchalance that belies your inner turmoil—the embarrassment of potentially being caught with such an intimate item—you navigate towards the back corner where solace awaits by way of a coffee pot; 'Just get through this meeting,' you reassure yourself, 'then it's straight to your car.'
As you stand by the coffee machine, the weight of the object in your back pocket feels conspicuous. You can't help but wonder if it's as noticeable to others as it is to you. Before you can even pour that first cup of coffee—a balm for your nerves Javier Peña sidles up next to you, his own cup of black coffee already in hand “Why does it look like there's a giant bullet in your back pocket?” he queries with an infuriating smirk playing on his lips.
"Why are you staring at my ass, Peña?” You lean against the surface of the coffee machine and muster up enough bravado for one last retort before this encounter ends mercifully soon; "Maybe I’m housing the next big thing in bullet technology," you toss back at Peña with feigned nonchalance while internally cursing yourself for not double-checking your pockets this morning like you usually do. You fill up your cup from the pot, hoping he takes the hint and moves away. But instead of leaving, he stays put and reaches into your pocket. Your spin around and your face burns with embarrassment as he holds up what he found - a pink vibrator - between his thumb and forefinger. You stand there, momentarily shocked—but honestly, not really. This kind of childish, middle-school game is typical of Javier. Always stirring the pot, always trying to get a reaction. You glance around the room, noting how everyone else is busy with their own conversations, laughing or small-talking, completely oblivious to the little scene unfolding between you and Javi.
Your eyes snap back to him, your annoyance clear as you extend your hand. “Give it back,” you demand, voice firm.
“Not until you tell me what it is,” he says, holding the item just out of reach with a teasing knowing smirk.
“Oh my god,” you groan, exasperated. “Just give it here, and I’ll show you.” You stand there, arm still outstretched, palm up, waiting for him to cooperate. The irritation bubbling inside you is hard to contain, especially since it seems painfully obvious to you what it is. 
Javi finally relents, placing it into your palm with a grin that suggests he knows he’s gotten under your skin. You curl your fingers around the hard plastic, sighing as your other hand moves to the opposite end of the device. Twisting it, the small pink vibrator quietly buzzes to life.
You lock eyes with him, deadpan. “Happy?”
Without waiting for a response, you switch it off and shove it back into your pocket, hoping to move past this absurd moment.
Javier blinks at you, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face. It’s clear he’s not entirely shocked—like a part of him always suspected you weren’t as straight-laced as you let on.
“So damn gullible. Why the fuck did you bring that to work?” He chuckles, shaking his head.
"That's confidential, Peña—classified. Don’t ever touch my shit again, or I’m reporting you." You spin on your heel and stride away, your shoulders tight with frustration, planting yourself in a chair at the far end of the table. Javier Peña stands frozen for a moment, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he watches you leave.
The meeting drags on endlessly, each passing moment heavier than the last but as soon as it concludes, you bolt from the room, your legs carrying you to the parking lot faster than you thought possible. You yank the car door open, drop into the driver’s seat, and slam it shut, letting your body sink into the cool leather. A hand runs over your face, rubbing away the tension, but it’s futile—every muscle hums with unresolved stress.
Always stressed. That’s your perpetual state. Nothing—not meditation, not the strongest caffeine jolt—seems to dull the edge. You need something real, but since that isn’t an option, you opt for the only relief within reach.
You sit up, retrieving the travel-sized vibrator stashed in your back pocket. Your eyes dart around, ensuring the parking lot is deserted. Once satisfied, you unbutton your dress pants, pushing them down just far enough to slip the device against your throbbing clit. The buzz sends immediate relief coursing through you, a soft whimper escaping your lips.
Your breath quickens; your core tightens. You're so close—on the brink—when the passenger seat suddenly dips. The car shifts as someone slams the door shut.
“I knew you were a slut,” Javier’s voice drawls, dripping with amusement.
You gasp, fumbling to switch off the vibrator, but his hand catches your wrist, halting you mid-motion. You glance up, startled, meeting his dark, mischievous gaze.
“Finish,” he commands, his voice firm, laced with dominance. “I can wait.”
Your lips part, a protest forming, but it dies in your throat as his free hand grips your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His voice drops lower, “I said finish.”
A shiver races down your spine as goosebumps erupt across your skin. He releases your wrist and chin, giving you control again—or so it seems.
Your hand trembles as you reposition the vibrator, pressing it against your clit once more. The vibrations hit, and your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Javier watches intently, lighting a cigarette as though savoring a fine performance.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Such a good girl. So pretty.”
The buildup to your orgasm is overwhelming, every nerve in your body attuned to Javier's command. You grab his arm, your nails sinking into his skin as a moan tears from your lips—raw, unrestrained, louder than you’ve allowed yourself in so long. His large, tan hand covers your mouth instantly.
“Shhh, baby, you gotta keep it down,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low. He waits until your breathing steadies before easing his hand away, but then he stops everything. The vibrator’s buzz fades as he pulls it away, leaving you teetering painfully on the edge.
Your body jolts when his fingers slide inside you without warning replacing the vibrations. A gasp escapes your lips, your back arching as pleasure spikes through you. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, each stroke precise and maddeningly effective. The rhythm he sets sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, pulling you closer to release. You feel yourself tightening around him, every movement driving you closer and closer. And then, just as you’re about to unravel completely, he stops.
His fingers leave you empty, aching, desperate. Before you can even protest, he brings them to his mouth, his tongue sweeping over his fingers to taste you. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he licks them clean, savoring every second of your helpless frustration.
He glances at his watch, the smirk on his lips cutting through your haze. "Oh, look at that—lunch is over. Better get back in there, agent."
Without another word, he opens the car door and steps out, leaving you breathless, trembling, and yearning for more as he strides away like nothing just happened.
The next morning, you arrive at the office earlier than usual, your frustration still simmering from how Peña left you high and dry the day before. Scanning his office from your desk, you note it’s still empty. You settle at your computer, trying to focus on work, but the irritation gnaws at you.
When he finally walks into his office, you pause, considering if confronting him is really a good idea. Then you remember the way he left you wanting yesterday, and resolve steels your spine.
Once you’re sure he’s alone, you stride to his office, closing the door firmly behind you and locking it with a deliberate click. The sound makes him glance up from the papers he’s working on. His eyebrows lift in mild surprise as he sees you. “Can I help you, agent?”
You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you walk up to his desk, fixing him with a stern glare. One hand presses against the clutter of paperwork, steadying you, while the other gestures for him to come closer.
He hesitates but complies, leaning forward just enough for you to grab his tie. You yank him toward you, bringing his face mere inches from yours. In a low, dangerous whisper, you let your irritation bleed through:
“If you ever fucking edge me like that again, I’ll report you for breaking into my vehicle, Agent Peña. Maybe this time, you’ll do better.”
Releasing him, you step back, smoothing your expression to one of cold indifference. Without another word, you place a small black box on his desk, turn on your heel, and leave his office. You return to your desk, seamlessly slipping back into your work as though nothing just happened.
Inside his office, Javier sits back in his chair, adjusting his shirt with an unreadable expression. His gaze lingers on the box you left behind. He picks it up and flips it open, revealing a small, pink, oval-shaped controller with simple directional commands: up, down, left, and right.
At first, he frowns, puzzled. Then he notices the folded piece of white paper tucked inside. Opening it, his eyes scan the words written in your unmistakable handwriting:
This controls the vibrator currently in my pussy. Edge me to your heart’s content, but if you don’t finish me by the end of the day, I’m reporting you for touching my ass in the conference room.
Javier smirks as he places the box and note in his desk drawer, slipping the controller into the right pocket of his DEA jacket. He doesn’t turn it on yet—he’s waiting. This little game the two of you are playing amuses him, and he knows there’s another meeting scheduled today. All he has to do is bide his time.
When everyone gathers in the conference room and takes their seats, the meeting begins. It’s not remotely important—just some pointless presentation from personnel management. Javi positions himself near the back of the room, leaning casually by the coffee pot. You, on the other hand, are seated near the front, far from him.
You try to focus, your pen tapping lightly on the notepad in front of you, but it’s impossible. This is, without a doubt, the most useless meeting you’ve ever attended. Your gaze wanders across the room, scanning faces aimlessly until your eyes land on Javi’s.
He’s already looking at you, his dark eyes filled with mischief. A smirk tugs at his lips, and he winks before raising his brows suggestively. His hand dips into his pocket, and he nods slightly, drawing your attention to the movement.
It takes you a second to piece it together, but when you do, your eyes widen in realization. He’s going to use the controller—here, in the middle of a meeting, surrounded by nearly every colleague you have.
Your heart races as you shoot him a sharp look, pursing your lips in a silent plea. You shake your head subtly, trying to convey, No, what the hell are you thinking?
But before you can finish the thought, your body betrays you. A sudden, uncontrollable jolt runs through you as the vibrations hit, intense and overwhelming. You grip the arms of the black leather chair, your lips parting in a silent gasp as the sensation floods through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.
Javi’s smirk deepens from across the room, his gaze fixed on you as if daring you to keep your composure.
That fucking bastard. That fucking beautiful bastard.
Your gaze locks with his, and he lifts a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay silent with a teasing "shhh." Your breath hitches as you try to compose yourself, the relentless vibrations from the hidden toy driving you to the brink. Closing your eyes for a moment, you fight to keep your expression neutral, but your lips part involuntarily as your climax builds.
You’re soaked, your underwear and the chair beneath you bearing the evidence of your struggle. The need to release is overwhelming, the sensation climbing higher and higher. Suddenly, a gasp escapes you, your hands gripping the arms of the chair to ground yourself. The sound draws the attention of everyone in the room, and every pair of eyes turns your way.
“Agent, are you okay? Something you’d like to share?” the coordinator asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Maybe you’re coming down with something,” Javi adds, his voice laced with false concern. His lips twitch as he fights back a smirk, his hand slipping subtly into his pocket. He presses the controller, ramping up the intensity.
The sudden surge of vibrations makes you jump in your leather chair, your whole body jolting with adrenaline. “No, I—I’m fine,” you stammer, voice shaky as you desperately try to suppress a moan. “Just… tired. S-sorry.”
The coordinator studies you for a moment, then nods. “Alright. If everyone’s ready, let’s continue.” The room finally shifts its focus back to the presentation.
Your chest heaves as you dig your nails into the chair’s arms, eyes squeezed shut. The vibrations grow impossibly stronger, and you know Javi is enjoying this far too much. He sits there like he owns the room, his posture relaxed, his expression smug. The sight of him only fuels your frustration.
Just as the peak feels inevitable, the vibrations stop.
The silence in your body is deafening, leaving you reeling from the sudden absence. You whip your head toward him, your glare is full of unspoken threats. He meets your gaze, shrugs casually, and smirks—that infuriating, half-cocked smirk that makes you want to both slap him and kiss him senseless.
He’s winning this game, and you hate how much you love it.
The meeting finally wraps up, and you return to your desk, finding it just as empty and uninspiring as before. You try to focus on your laptop screen, willing yourself to concentrate, but it’s a losing battle. All you can think about is Javier—and how badly you want him to touch you, to finish you.
Without a second thought, you stand and head straight for his office. The urgency in your steps gives you no time for decorum; you push the door open without knocking and slam it shut behind you.
Javier looks up, one brow arching in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
You plant your hands on your hips, frustration seeping through your voice. “You did it again.”
His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Did what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Peña.” You extend one hand toward him, the other still fixed on your hip. “Give me back the controller. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fucking concentrate.”
“Oh, this?” he asks, holding up the remote. His smirk deepens as he flicks the device back on. The sudden vibration against your core sends a jolt through you, and your hands dart out to brace yourself against his desk.
“So, you really want me to stop?” he drawls, standing from his chair with deliberate slowness. “Or maybe you’d rather I give you the real thing? You tell me, sweetheart—what do you want?”
His voice is low and teasing as he approaches, his towering frame closing the distance between you. He places his hands on the desk, as you turn around to follow his movements, caging you in. You try to hold his gaze, but the intensity is too much. After a few seconds, your eyes flutter shut.
“Please…” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Please what?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.
Your resolve shatters as his lips hover close to yours. “Stop…” you manage to mumble weakly, even as your arms reach up, wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.
Javier’s hands grip you, firm and possessive, as his mouth captures yours in a heated kiss. The vibrator’s hum fades into the background as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring you with unrestrained hunger. Your thoughts dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his touch and the euphoria of his kiss.
When he finally pulls away, he gives you a smirk so devastating it leaves you breathless. His hand trails on your thighs, teasing at the hem of your skirt.
“Javi,” you plead.
Instead of replying, his fingers slip beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. He pulls the still-buzzing vibrator from you with a deliberate slowness, your slickness coating his fingers. Tossing it carelessly onto some paperwork, he lifts you onto the edge of the desk. His dark eyes meet yours, filled with a hunger that makes your pulse race.
With practised ease, he pushes your skirt up to your hips and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down and tossing them aside. The cool air against your bare skin sends a shiver through you.
Before you can truly process what’s happening, Javier helps you down and spins you around, pressing your chest down against the desk. His firm grip pins your wrists behind your back. The sensation makes you moan.
“You just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?” he taunts, his voice dripping with mockery. Reaching around, he stuffs your damp panties into your mouth, silencing any reply.
The metallic clink of his belt buckle hitting the floor echoes in the room, followed by the low rasp of his zipper. Your heart pounds as you feel his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back toward him.
Javier leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “Think you can be quiet now? Or do I need to remind you how to behave, mi niña buena?”
His question hangs in the air as your muffled whimper escapes through the gag. Behind you, his cock presses against you, and the anticipation coils tightly in your stomach, ready to snap.
You nod eagerly as the wet fabric is pulled from your mouth. He grabs your arm, helping you up, then points to the ground. “On your knees.”
You obey without hesitation, sinking down as he steps closer. His cock is in your mouth again in an instant, stretching your lips as he thrusts forward, letting out a deep grunt like he hasn’t had release in weeks—whether it’s a pussy, a mouth, or even his own hand. His grip tightens in your hair, holding you steady as he pushes deeper into your throat.
“So pretty when you’re sucking cock, tan hermosa” he rasps, his voice rough and dripping with lust.
The initial sting fades as you adjust to his size, letting him slide deeper with every thrust. His cock twitches in your throat before he suddenly pulls out, leaving you gasping on the floor. You look up at him, wide-eyed and eager, your lips glistening as you catch your breath.
He wastes no time pulling you to your feet, turning you and bending you over the desk. His hands slide down your body, one stopping between your thighs to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. The sudden stimulation sends shocks through your body, making you shudder.
“Fuck! Please!” you beg, your voice cracking under the tension.
He doesn’t answer, instead slipping your underwear back into your mouth to muffle your cries. “No estàs siendo una niña buena, tienes que estar callada, bebé,” he murmurs, his tone dark but calm.
Without warning, he slams into you, stretching you wide as his cock fills you completely. The muffled sound you make is a mix of pain and pleasure, your body clenching around him as you struggle to adjust to his size. His hips drive forward relentlessly, each thrust pressing deeper until the ache melts into pure bliss.
Your fingers grip the edge of the desk as waves of pleasure roll through you. His cock feels impossibly thick inside you, and every stroke makes your legs tremble beneath his weight. He notices, leaning down close to your ear.
“Come on, baby.” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I know how badly you want to cum all over my cock.”
His words push you over the edge. Your body spasms as your orgasm hits, goosebumps prickling along your skin. A muffled moan escapes you as you tighten around him, trembling uncontrollably as the intensity consumes you.
He doesn’t stop. His thrusts grow harder and faster, driving deep into you as his own climax builds. The desk creaks under the force, and your body feels like it might give out, soaked in your own release. His growls turn guttural, animalistic, as his cock twitches violently inside you.
With one final thrust, he spills into you, hot and thick, his grip bruising as he holds you close. His hips slow, his body shuddering as he rides out his release, his breath ragged against your neck.
After a moment, he drops your arms, letting them fall limply to your sides. You slide down to your knees, your back leaning against the desk as you pant, trying to steady yourself.
He crouches in front of you, his hand cupping your face. Tilting your chin up, he makes you meet his gaze, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch,” he says, his voice low and teasing.
He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek before standing, adjusting his clothes as if nothing happened. Without another word, he strides out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you breathless and spent on the floor.
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thememestrider ¡ 2 days ago
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40k Sfw Alphabet - Sanguinius
Thanks for all the love my first one of these has been getting! It's now, like, my second most liked/reblogged post. So, again, thank you guys so much!!
By popular demand, my next primary is the glorious hawk boy himself, Sanguinius.
Please enjoy (and watch out for errors cause this is unedited)
A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Sanguinius is VERY affectionate, both physically and verbally. In public, in private, doesn't matter. Wherever you two are, he's whispering sweet nothings in your ear or ensuring he's got a hand on you. Part of it is to be a tease, but most of it is for his own comfort. He always wants to know you're close. Always wants you to know how important you are to him. If he's in particular need of this reassurance, he might drape a wing over your shoulder or around your waist, just for that extra bit of physical touch.
B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)
Aside from Vulkan, Sangy is about the easiest person to be friends with. He's charismatic, he's well-adjusted and he's genuinely a really sweet dude. But to be best friends with him, that might take more time. See, Sangy is used to people befriending him because of what he is- the Great Angel, the perfect primarch- and not necessarily because of who he is. So, even with friends, he maintains his angelic mask, and he will be resistant to letting it slip. Given enough time, however, I can see him feeling comfortable enough around you that he feels he can be himself, and maybe even share some of the darker things he deals with.
C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Sanguinius-cuddles are about the only thing that rival Vulkan-cuddles, if not exceeds them. If he could swallow you up with his arms alone, he would. At times, you might have to ask him to let up a little, lest you suffocate from his grip.
Sanguinius absolutely makes use of his wings with cuddles, too. Like a pair of enormous downy blankets, he will encase you in them, humming contentedly as he feels you stir against their feathers.
D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Sanguinius is definately the type to want to settle down. He wishes a life where he doesn't have to live up to the expectations of the Emperor and mankind as a whole. A life where he can just... live.
And doing so with the person he loves most? That's just about the perfect dream.
E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
If Sangy is breaking up with you, he's letting you down gently. He's explaining how he feels and trying to keep you from blaming yourself. Trying to remain friends would be too painful for him, though, and I believe once you two parted ways, you wouldn't see much of each other again.
Now, if you broke up with him, it's a slightly different story. Others have already head canoned that beneath the surface, Sanguinius has a possessiveness streak, and I believe that a break up he did not want would absolutely trigger that streak. He'd never hurt you, nor intentionally do anything to cause you distress or torment. But you're never leaving his sight, whether you know he's there or not. And Emperor help any man who tries to touch you- consensually or otherwise.
F - FiancĂŠ (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)
With his powers of foresight, Sanguinius probably knew you'd be the one he'd marry the moment he laid eyes on you. So, with that in mind, he would want to rush things at all. He knows how this is going to end, so he's going to enjoy every moment of it: from the awkward first dates right up until he buys your ring.
G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)
Only primarch more gentle in both regards is Vulkan.
H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)
Much the same as cuddling. Super crushing, super loving, and making good use of those big beautiful wings.
I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
It would take a while, I think, purely because before he were to say it, Sanguinius would need to realise that he doesn't have to maintain the facade of perfection when he's with you. I see that taking a long time. But once he does realise this... Oh boy, you're getting the confession and the proposal all in the same say.
J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)
Sanguinius trusts you with every ounce of his soul. He knows you are his and that he is yours, and he knows that he will never have to worry about you betraying him.
However...
As mentioned back in E, I am part of the group that head canons that Sanguinius has a secret, buried possessive streak. He is aware of it, he strives to keep it under control, and nine times out of ten he is successful. But he is not always successful. And when he is not successful, the most common way his possessiveness shows itself is jealousy. Are you being particularly friendly with one of his brothers? He may intervene. One of your male friends embrace you for just a little too long? Sanguinius will be glaring daggers at him, might even bare his fangs. This behaviour is worse when he's feeling particularly insecure, or if the stress and grief of war is getting to him. But as I said before, he's aware of this, and he will communicate with you exactly how he's feeling and what he needs from you in terms of support.
K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Depending on the mood and what both your desires are, Sanguinius kisses range from gentle and sweet all the way up to intense, getting-your-lip-bitten, can't-breathe-cause-he-won't-let-you-go passion. With Sangy, you get the best of both worlds.
L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)
Only primarch better around children than Sangy is Vulkan. Enough said.
M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)
Sleepy, I think. One, because Sanguinius loves nothing more than lying in bed and holding you close to him like a teddy bear; and two, because sleeping while wrapped in his wings is so damn comfy, why would you ever wanna get up?
N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)
Depending on the mood, ranging from cuddle sessions that lead to you both falling asleep in each other's arms, to make-out seshs that led to said cuddling sessions, all the way up to... well, this isn't the nsfw alphabet, so I'll let you guys... you know...
O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)
At first, getting Sanguinius to open up is like trying to pry open a steel crate with your bare hands: fucking difficult. He's the Great Angel, after all; perfection doesn't even begin to describe the expectations he has to live up to, let alone those that he holds himself to personally. So getting him to divulge how he really feels or that, under the surface, he's struggling under all that weight? Yeah, I don't see that being easy. However, when Sanguinius DOES finally trust you and he realises he loves you, it'll be like opening the proverbial floodgates. For the first time in his long life, Sanguinius has someone he can admit his flaws to and they will love him all the same: he's going to make use of that and he's going to cherish that. Right up until his last, dying breath.
P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)
Sanguinius has all the patience in the world for you. However, if he's particularly stressed or the Red Thirst is gnawing at his mind, I can see it suddenly becoming very thin. He would deeply regret anything hurtful he ever said in these moments, though, and would go above and beyond to make it up to you.
Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)
Every little detail he has committed to memory. How you look, what you like, all the memories you've made together. You can bet your bottom dollar that, when he lay dying at Horus' feet, he was flashing back to every single second he spent with you.
R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)
The moment he realised he could be himself with you, Red Thirst and all. It's the moment he realised why he'd forsee you to be his soul mate- because you love him for him. All of him. Every perfect curve and jagged edge. For both the angel and the beast.
S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Part one isn't even a question. The mere possibility of you coming to harm is enough to get his Red Thirst raging. And if something actually DID happen to you? Emperor help whoever or whatever was responsible.
Much like all of the primarchs honestly, the kind of protection Sanguinius needs from you is the emotional kind. He needs someone with whom he does not have to maintain the facade of the Great Angel. He needs someone who sees him for what he is: a man. A man with demons that he needs help in fighting. He's not an "I fix can him" type beat like some of his brothers (cough cough, Konrad, cough, cough). More "he can fix himself with your support."
T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)
U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
He's putting in the whe nine yards: whatever that means for you, Sanguinius is doing it. Even if he's distracted by war, taking care of you is his number one priority.
Aforementioned possessiveness. Another could be emotional guardedness, at least in the beginning of your relationship.
V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Only in terms of wanting to impress you or make you happy. I could also see Sanguinius having a real thing about his wings: constantly preening them, always wanting to ensure his feathers are all nicely aligned and smoothed down. Couldn't tell you why I think this, just feels right to me idk.
W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
Absolutely.
X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)
In the wake of Sanguinius' death, the Blood Angels see you as his successor. In their eyes, you are their Primarch now, in all ways other than literally. They revere you the way they do their father. They hold your word above any commander or high lord, even on matters that, by rights, you should have no say in. They'd also see you as their matriarch. Their mother. And as such, many of their warriors would confide in you the same way one would with a trusted maternal figure. I can see you becoming an emotional rock for a lot of them- not just collectively, but individually, as well. So much so, I could even see your presence and/or intervention being a kind of soother of The Black Rage. After all, the only thing strong enough to pull a Blood Angel free from the grief of his father's death is the love of his mother.
As mentioned above, Sanguinius' death was a loss so devastating to the Blood Angels' collective psyche that it spawned a literal curse of madness within the legion. So you can bet everything that the Blood Angels aren't letting you out of their sight. If you thought the Salamanders were protective... you ain't seen nothing yet.
You go nowhere without an entire Astartes squad by your side; as well as snipers lining your route/location and an entire strike cruiser in orbit over the planet you're currently on. They'd probably give you your own set of armour, too, designed by the Blood Angels' own artists before being crafted by their own weaponsmiths.
Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)
In general, a lack of empathy and arrogance. I could also see him really not liking someone who does not or cannot recognise their own flaws and shortcomings, what with how massive of a focus self-improvement and self-awareness is to the culture he fosters within the Blood Angels.
Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)
You're getting wrapped in the wings. Even if it's sweltering hot outside, Sanguinius is cuddling you right up under his wings like a mama bird with her chick. He'll stop if you ask, of course, but you WILL have to ask.
Tags: @solspina @beckyninja
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puck-luck ¡ 2 days ago
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Like Hughes, prompt 1, hearts… I was thinking maybe she’s having a bad day and talking about her brain just not shutting up something along those lines lol
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warnings: oral fem receiving on a dining room table wc: 619
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“I’m sorry, Lu. I know I’ve been talking about this for a while. You must be bored,” you say sheepishly, picking at the remaining food on your plate. 
“I’m not bored,” Luke replies. “I like listening to you talk, even if you’re just venting about how work sucked today. It’s up to you if you want to keep talking about it, babe.”
“I’m sure I could talk about it forever,” you grumble. “I just hate how in my head I get over the stupidest mistakes and interactions. I know it’s not that deep, but I get so wigged out.” You stab at the pile of green beans with your fork. “I wish there was some way where I could just turn off my mind when I don’t want to use it.”
Luke quirks an eyebrow at you. “You think?”
“Yeah,” you tell him. You shrug. “It gets overwhelming to be in my brain, sometimes. It would be nice to quiet it down.”
Luke looks at you for a moment too long. “I have an idea for that,” he says. He clears his plate, then yours. 
“Luke, I wasn’t done eating,” you complain.
“I’ll reheat it for you if you’re still hungry after.” He leaves his plate in the sink, but places yours in the refrigerator. Then, he walks back over to you, taking your hand and guiding you out of the chair. He moves your utensils and glass of water to the floor, away from your feet. “You trust me?” He asks, thumbing over your bottom lip.
“‘Course,” you reply. “Always.”
Luke smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Good.” He backs you up against the table, trapping you. You hop up onto the ledge, sitting back more comfortably as Luke towers over you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as he leans down to kiss you until your chest is heaving and your cheeks are flushed. “I’m gonna fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head,” Luke says like he’s swearing on his grave. “But first, I’m going to eat my dessert.”
You feel a bit lightheaded and hot as he gets to his knees, undressing your lower half. His hands rake over your exposed thighs, tickling your flesh and groping the particularly meaty sections in his hands. Luke kisses over the inside of your thighs, the sensitive areas marked with suction mark after suction mark– they’ll all fade by tomorrow, so you can’t call them hickeys. He’s so sweet about the way he teases you, which lasts until you’re unable to wait any longer. You stammer out a plea for him to do more, unsure if you’re in a space where Luke will grant your requests.
His eyes lock with yours and a smirk covers his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he inches forward, sticking his tongue out when he gets close enough and flicks the tip over your clit. He’s not close enough for it to be anything more than a tease, but the touch already has you whimpering and trying to move your hips closer to his tongue. 
Instead of chastising you for being so greedy, Luke buries his face in your cunt. He went from nothing to everything at once– making you cry out. Your hands fly to his hair. Luke just closes his eyes and nuzzles into your pussy, his tongue working overtime against your clit. One of his fingers has started to trace slowly around the rim of your entrance, although he refuses to enter. 
He seems hell-bent on making your pleasure wash all over his fingers well before they even enter you– you’re in for a long night.
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4linos ¡ 1 day ago
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cooking, lying, and loving you.
han jisung x gn!reader
synopsis: you surprise your boyfriend with a home-cooked meal after his long tour, but the dish turns out far from perfect.
wc: 705
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After weeks of being on tour, Jisung has finally returned home, and you have been impatiently waiting his arrival. You chose to prepare dinner as a surprise for him because you know how much he must have missed home-cooked meals. Even though you're not very good at cooking, you've spent the entire day planning and putting your all into the dish. You're nervous yet excited, imagining his reaction when he realizes how hard you've worked.
When he walks through the door, the sound of his suitcase rolling across the floor catches your attention. “I’m home!” he calls out, his voice a little tired but warm and full of love.
You rush out to greet him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Welcome back!”
He grins, melting into your embrace. “It smells amazing in here. Did you… cook?” His tone is surprised but genuinely touched.
“Yup!” you say, beaming. “I wanted to do something special for you. Go freshen up—it’ll be ready when you’re done.”
Jisung heads off to change, and you quickly finish plating the food, making sure it looks as good as possible. By the time he sits down, the table is set with candles and everything. You can see how moved he is by the effort.
“Wow,” he says, his eyes wide as he takes it all in. “You did all this for me? You’re amazing.”
You blush at his words. “Anything for you. Now, dig in!”
He grabs his fork and takes his first bite. His attitude somewhat changes, but he masks it with a smile. His nod is a bit too enthusiastic. "Mmm," he adds. "This is so good!" With pride, you smile. “Really? I was worried that things wouldn't work out.” "No, it's delicious!" he insists, taking another bite, although at a slower pace. His thoughts are racing inside.
*It's slightly salty—no, it's really salty. And the texture isn't right. However, they put a lot of effort into this—I can't say anything. I'll simply push through.*
Feeling happy by his obvious enjoyment, you continue to watch him eat. "You really like it?”
“Of course!” he says, washing it down with a big gulp of water. “You did an amazing job.” He clears his plate despite the challenge, finishing with a triumphant smile. “That was so good. Thank you, babe.”
You’re practically glowing from his praise. “I’m so glad you liked it! I was worried it might not be perfect.”
Jisung shakes his head. “It was perfect,” he lies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
Later, Jisung waits in the doorway, watching you with a sheepish smile as you get ready for bed. Casually, he scratches the back of his neck and says, "Hey." "Yes?" You look at him in the mirror and hum. "Well, I He took a step closer and says, "I have something to tell you.”
Curious, you turn around. "What is it?" After he pauses, he starts laughing. "Alright, don't be upset,
but the dinner wasn't that good."
Your jaw drops as you process his confession. “What?! You said you loved it!”
“I didn’t have the heart to tell you!” he defends himself, laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach. “You looked so proud, and I couldn’t ruin the moment!”
You grab a nearby pillow and playfully hit him with it. “Babe! I can’t believe you lied to me!”
He tries to dodge, laughing harder. “It wasn’t a lie—it was… creative encouragement! You worked so hard, and I really did appreciate it!”
You can’t help but laugh along with him, even as you give him another light whack. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me,” he teases, catching your hand mid-swing and pulling you close.
“Barely,” you joke, rolling your eyes.
He grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “Next time, we’ll cook together, okay? That way, you can’t accuse me of lying.”
“Deal,” you say with a smirk. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily.”
Jisung kisses your cheek, still chuckling. “Fair enough. Just know that I’ll always finish whatever you make—even if it’s… memorable.”
You both laugh as you settle into bed, teasing each other until the night is filled with warmth and joy, the imperfect dinner already a funny memory to share.
—
nini’s notes!! 112724
heyy. i hope you all have a good thanksgiving tomorrow (if you celebrate, of course). i’m so ready for this year to be over 🤧.
asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!
-🎀
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brbsoulnomming ¡ 11 hours ago
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Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!
This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!
-----
Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.
The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”
“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”
Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.
“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.
To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.
Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.
“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”
“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.
—
He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.
Dustin's away at camp, after all.
“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.
Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”
“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”
Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”
Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”
“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”
Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”
Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”
Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.
“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.
“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.
“Yeah.”
Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.
“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”
Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”
He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”
Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”
Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”
Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”
“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”
Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.
Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.
Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.
Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.
“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”
“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.
He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.
“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.
They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.
Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”
Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”
“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.
Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.
—
Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.
One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -
But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.
He doesn't need one.
Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -
“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.
But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.
“Hi,” Eddie says back.
And that's -
It's something.
—
Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.
It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.
—
He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.
He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.
—
This isn't like any beating he's taken before.
Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.
He can handle it.
Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.
"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."
Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.
He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.
But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.
It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.
They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.
He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.
They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.
His chest splits open.
The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.
His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.
"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."
The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.
The second soldier laughs.
"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.
The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.
"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"
"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."
There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.
"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.
The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"
—
Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.
His chest aches.
Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.
Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.
But he's not alone now.
He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.
He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.
They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.
It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.
—
Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.
Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.
He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.
The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.
When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.
His stomach turns.
Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.
It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.
The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.
He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.
There.
Now no one will notice.
-----
This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!
Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse
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revelboo ¡ 17 hours ago
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The way you write Jazz has me absolutely floored, my god, it feels like I’m looking at a mirror sometimes
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Over It Now Pt 14
IDW Jazz x Reader
• Watching you grasp the lapels of your jacket and hold it closed as the icy wind pulls at your hair leaves him feeling guilty. Knows you’re cold, but still can’t say no to you. Because you’re coming to sit with him willingly now even as your breath fogs in the air and you shiver in your coat. Cold, but uncomplaining. And he hates that he keeps coming back here making you feel obligated to spend time with him knowing every visit increases the likelihood of getting caught. “What was your home like?” You ask.
• Glancing down at you, his visor dims a bit. “Like any city, I guess, doll,” he says slowly, lips twitching as his big hand against your back shifts. “I remember the first time I saw Iacon. All these beautiful buildings and the chaos of the city like a living thing. Remember thinking I didn’t belong.” He’s smiling, but it’s different than his normal, sure smiles. It’s real, you realize as your breath catches. This is what he looks like without that fake smile, that mask, and you want to reach up and cup his big face in your palms, but you’re afraid if you do, he’ll realize what he’s doing and go back to pretending.
• “You were a musician, right?” Servos sliding against your back, he smiles. Remembers the feel of an instrument in his hands, playing and singing on a busy corner. The days where a passerby smiled because of him, never making much, but some days enough to feed himself. On the days he didn’t, he watched and learned. Servos nimble from strumming the strings of his instrument, were clever enough to steal to feed himself. He’d tried to get by on his art alone, but risk of starvation had made him desperate. And that had eventually brought him to the enforcer’s attention. To Prowl’s.
• “It wasn’t always easy, but I loved it. Creating something real that made others happy,” he says, visor glowing as he looks out across the yard at the falling leaves. “For a long time, I forgot what that felt like.” And his attention drifts back to you, a servo hooking under your chin to tip your head up. “You reminded me, kitten.” Not a lie or teasing. Your heart is racing, hammering against your ribs as he stares down at you. Remembering the lonely sound of his singing pulling at you, aching for him without even understanding the words he was singing. You hadn’t needed to, understanding the sound of loss and sorrow and reaching out, because he was hurting.
• “I like this you better,” you whisper, standing slowly, mindful of your cast covered leg, and reaching up with those little hands. Lowering his head to meet you, he feels your hands on him. “You don’t have to smile all the time, if you don’t feel like smiling. Just be you.” Do you have any idea how precious you are to him? How much he needs to hear those words? You must. Gently curling his servos around you and lifting you to nuzzle his cheek against you. Knowing he won’t be able to stop coming back to you even if it ends up ruining your life, because he’s awful and he needs this so much.
Previous
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valentine-cafe ¡ 22 hours ago
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(jingyi 1311, male reader)
being a friend who hangs out with him while he works, stopping by to drop off some homemade lunches and chat as an excuse to see him. (maybe often enough that you get teased by his coworkers)
unbeknownst to him, you.....really, really think it's hot how sweaty and grimey he gets as he works. the smell of motor oil and grease only worsens it. it's hard to hide your fluster when he's right there, when you're fantasizing about all the things you'd do, or want him to do to you. you so badly want to lick the beads of sweat running down his neck, intoxicated by all of the scents on him... alas, you've got to keep your poker face and act like normal, but perhaps your gaze wasn't as subtle as you wished.
who knows if he'd even want to mess you up as badly as you want him to.
˖⁺. ﹙ top naga mechanic x bttm male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁
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. . . close eye !! 🍒 :  mechanic ˖ naga ˖ villain character﹙ verse 1311 jìngyí. ﹚
you can't help but be turned on by your mechanic naga friend. . . you just have to watch him work.
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jìngyí is the furthest thing form unaware at all your little visits, the lunches, the talks. the way that your eyes always seem to trail along his neck after he’s pushed himself from the undercarriage. or his hands while he’s working on one of his newest inventions.
how you accidentally bump into him on your way in. just so that you can feel the touch of his arm against you. feel the strange mix of heat and cold that radiates off of him.
he is a patient man. a snake that quite enjoys to lure his prey to him. bit by bit. size them up. note if they can take him.
oh and you were just so willing. he wonders how many times he has kept you up at night. or had you scampering home to needily jerk off the second your front door is shut.
every time he catches your stare all he can imagine is how you would whine beneath his strong hands. he debated on what he should do to you first. jerk you off? finger your poor little hole? maybe make you grind on him since you’re such a needy slut.
and it’s not like he makes it any easier for you. he always makes sure to throw off his top overalls at some point when you are there. intentionally leans over to grasp at his tools. speak into your ear in a murmured apology. or an answer to whatever question you asked today.
it isn’t until one day he catches the little tent you so desperately tried to hide away. yet still had the nerve to trot on in and talk to him.
what else can he do but make you bounce on his dick? you wanna act like a whore so let him treat you like one.
he’ll type away at his holographic screen with new schematics for his inventions. shooting you a small glare when you stutter your hips. only for him to clap your thigh, squeeze it and bring you down into a hard slam. his balls slapping against your ass.
“don’t stop now.”
if you’re lucky he might stroke at your dick. trace a free finger along your tip before flicking it. then going back to his work like nothing happened. “always looking like you wanna gag on my dick. so ride it. come on.”
when you’re whining and begging for him to do it is when he’ll get annoyed. slam you over the hood of one of the cars he has been working on and start rough-fucking you into the metal. until you’re gasping, crying his name - clinging onto whatever you possibly can.
“j-jìngyí -! h-hngh fuck please -”
all you’ll get is a greased hand around your throat. yanking you up to a pair of cold lips as his hips slam forward and start fucking that one, blinding spot rapidly.
“please? just giving you what you wanted. come on baby,” a deep hiss eases from his body. as he crushed you against the hood and pounds your poor ass to putty. till you’re spilling over and limping the next few days back to him and his workshop. ready to mess it up further.
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aayakashii ¡ 2 days ago
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continuing the headcanon that @str8upjorkinit created with a few more houses, since some people asked for it (will post the other houses later I promise!)
Hotarubi and Mortkranken with a S/O that loves to carry them around (with pictures ?!)
Subaru
Turns into a tomato immediately
Apologizes for being carried as if you're not the one that decided to carry him in the first place!!!!
Tries SO hard to think of reasons why you should not be holding him like that, but his mind is just a blue screen at this point
Subaru tried the best he could not to entertain his little crush on you but you really went there and made it impossible 😔
He'll never say it (because he always thinks he's being inconvenient), but he loves when you carry him whenever he's anxious or overwhelmed
You're kinda like his personal weighted blanket and he loves it
Still apologizes constantly, even after you two have settled this into your routine... time to hold him even tighter to maybe squeeze the insecurities away!
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Subaru when you first began holding him vs Subaru after getting KINDA used to you holding him
Haku
Oh he's sooooooo into this
It's a wonder you don't drop him at your feet when he starts flirting with you right away
AND your face is so close to his? He hit jackpot, baby!
Expect him laying his head on your shoulder and flirting shamelessly just to see you getting flustered
It's not like he's not affected though!
He has the wildest butterflies fluttering in his stomach when you hold him so tightly and so close, literally sweeping him off his feet
After a while, you get used to his teasing, so he just enjoys his time on your arms.
If he ends up taking his afternoon nap on your lap, you can't blame him 🫵‼️ you did put him in the moat comfortable place ever (your arms)
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Haku while he's flirting with you vs Haku when he relaxes and naps in your arms
Zenji
HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE
In fact, speaking of Time of My Life, you know that old movie, Dirty Dancing? If you can lift Zenji, he Will be forcing you to do the whole choreography with him
and you WILL be taking Patrick Swayze's role because he wants to be the girl who's lifted
Obviously he's excited you can lift him since he's HUGE but in his mind he's just like....... of course you can lift him!!! It's YOU after all!!!
You literally can do anything in his mind. No wonder you're his second favorite person, only behind his little brother.
He feels like a little damsel in distress whenever you carry him in his arms and he loves it, even starts writing more stories with this theme since he's so inspired
Loves it so much that he kinda expects you to do it everyday
Sending thoughts and prayers for your back
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Zenji when you showed him you could lift him vs you after the 1000th time he asked you to carry him
Yuri
CAPITAL H HORRIFIEDDDDDD
Yells "PUT ME DOWN, WORM" like a thousand times
The other students start asking for you to please just put him down so they can work in peace
Because he won't stop yelling and distracting everyone with how dramatic he is
You're having way too much fun though, seeing how he turns the deepest shade of red ever and stutters nonstop about you being insane
He will never not complain whenever you hold him in your arms, but, after a while, he kinda gets used to it
Says it's just a symptom of your derangement and that no medicine seems to fix it 😔 how tragic
To be honest, he kinda likes it a little bit... especially the way he can see your face and your smile from up close... but he'll never ever admit it to himself, much less to you
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Yuri when you carried him for the first time vs Yuri after he resigned himself and accepted that you Will carry him no matter what
Jiro
10000% doesn't mind
He is, however, a bit surprised that you can actually lift him up (after a little bit of struggle since he's the biggest ghoul after all
He thinks it's a little bit funny how you made it a matter of honor to carry him without struggle (which you manage after a while)
Whenever you get spooked and he (sadistically) laughs at your reactions, he allows you to carry him as some sort of peace offering
Jiro used to resist being carried whenever he got sick. His habit of just enduring it by himself for as long as he could was a bit hard to break
Much to his surprise, however, being able to "relax" in your arms as you take him back to Mortkranken made his sudden bouts of sickness less harrowing
Still thinks it's a little bit amusing how silly you look so focused, carrying someone double your size. He can get used to it as well, though
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Literally just Jiro. Jiro vibing as you carry him. He will always just be vibing.
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tojisun ¡ 16 hours ago
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[head in my hands] diabolical hockey au just hit me rn-
thinking about being the specgru’s head coach’s controversially young gf, and most of the team are fucking enamoured.
so taken by how you look that, sometimes, they’d chirp at their coach (it’s nikto.. i have been bewitched 😣) about how maybe they’d get to focus if he just brought around his little sweetheart and nikto stares at them with pursed lips and deadpanned eyes before making them run lines for hours.
but nikto’s… intrigued by this. because he is the first to say that yes, you are a doll. god, the prettiest of them all - he still doesn't understand why you even chose him but it's not like he'll let you go anymore, darling. not a chance.
but mactavish's chirp is still bright in his ears that nikto realizes that maybe, just maybe, he can indulge the boys a little bit.
just a smidge. not enough to actually give them a taste, but just a spark; light up that hunger they're feeling, and maybe nikto can even get a reward for himself. maybe they'd finally lockdown on that powerplay or even solidify their defense, but whatever it is, nikto's quite excited.
it's not often that the solution to your team is right there, in the palm of your hands.
.
in the next practice, nikto pretends that nothing's changed in the routine. the boys are still doing their stretches, with garrick leading them to it, and the assistant coaches are gearing up for diverse set of trainings. keller, for one, already's got the backup goalie with him while they set up drills for him and price.
the practice goes on, with nikto amping up the intensity just so the reward falls sweeter than it is, before winding them down for the natural break. nikto gets off the ice while the team makes a game out of gathering up the pucks to dump them back into the bin, and he watches, almost with anticipation, as time trickles.
then, the inevitable-
you, bounding in from the locker rooms at nikto's message, and the team's attention easily being snagged.
it started with johnny, elbowing riley, then it was everyone turning to watch as you walk towards him you don't even give the others a second glance, laser-focused only on him. on nikto.
look at you. a room full of men who wants you and all you care about is him.
nikto feels his gums throb with something like pride, and he doesn't even notice that he's began posturing too - back straightened as he rolls his shoulders and stands up straight.
"baby," you breathe out, giggly almost, as you fold yourself into his arms.
"kotenok," nikto rumbles out, pulling you impossibly closer. sure, half of it is for show, but the stronger half is thrumming with obsession. with possessiveness and desire. because the team doesn't need to chirp for nikto to know how perfect you are.
the team's gone all quiet and laughably docile, and nikto would tease. would chirp back just to see all of them grumble at the realization that nikto can bring you around all they want, it won't change the fact that you don't even care about them.
but you're already in his arms and they're looking on with vivid envy that nikto dismisses the idea and calls for the end of practice.
that doesn't stop the boys from flirting with you, apparently - johnny catches up with you on his way back to the lockers, chatting up about your dogs like they're not nikto's dogs too. simon's brooding, quiet as he shadows you and mactavish on the way back, and only pipes up when you turn to include him in, like you're truly his weakness.
price is more subtle - stealing your attention as he stands beside nikto, like he is truly challenging his coach for his coach's girlfriend. it sort of works too because you're vibrating from where you stand as you ask him about his recent shutout - against washington - all starry-eyed like the fan you are.
but garrick. nikto thinks he might just be the worst because it's him who has you acting all shy, your eyes flicking up to kyle's face before ducking down as you busy yourself with the zipper of your jacket like you couldn't handle prolonged eye contact. it's kyle who speaks to you with such quiet timbre that you're visibly quaking when he leaned forward to whisper directly into your ear after another stuttered, "huh?"
it's kyle who walks away first too, and the one that had you tripping on your feet as you subconsciously followed even when nikto's already waiting by the car.
damn it. maybe he'll make garrick do suicides tomorrow.
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