#jeans wife anon

[brambletakato]

I genuinely love that we all are peaceful over our versions of Des’s wife unlike some other fandoms where a similar circumstance happens and suddenly houses are ablaze and people are stranded in the depths of war, like I genuinely feel safe talking about my version of his wife because I’ve actively seen that we all have common sense and acknowledge there’ll be different interpretations and that’s awesomesauce

[pickingupmymercedes]

Happy you're home - Lewis Hamilton

request : "their son is like 2/3 y/o and reader obviously pays more attention to him, even after coming back from work, so lewis is a bit 'jealous' and very clingy, needy with his wife." - fluff anon ✌🏽(gonna call you that because you were so lovely even with the confusion)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader!

wordcount: +2k

a/n: There's a bit of angst , I know the request was for something fluff, but I just had to. It's worth it though, promise😉.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

"So, special dates?" Lewis asked casually as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/n stir the sauce simmering on the stove.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder at him, catching the hint of something beneath his tone. "Yeah, just little outings after I pick him up from nursery" she replied lightly, sensing where this conversation was headed.

"Outings?" Lewis repeated, pushing off the counter to walk closer, his eyes following her every move. "You make it sound so... exclusive."

"Well" Y/n teased, turning to face him fully "It was our thing while you were away. Just me and him. You know he's a little creature of habit."

Lewis crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "And what, he's not happy I'm home now?"

Y/n laughed softly, moving to grab a couple of plates. "He's thrilled you're home, Lew. But he's also two, and he's gotten used to our routine."

Lewis hummed, but there was a slight edge to his expression. "I just thought he’d be excited to see me. I mean, I picked him up, and he barely smiled."

"He's not used to you picking him up, that's all. Give him time." She set the plates down on the table and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He missed you. We both did."

Lewis softened at her touch, pulling her closer. "I missed you too. I just feel a bit... left out?"

Y/n tilted her head, studying him. "Left out?" She smiled, though she could see the seriousness in his eyes.

"I mean…" he admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It’s like every time I turn around, he's glued to you. And I get it, you're his mom, but..." He trailed off, his hand resting on her hip, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the skin he found just below the waistband of her jeans. "I guess I'm just a little jealous."

"Of him?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement.

"Maybe," Lewis muttered, his voice low. "Or maybe of the fact that you two have all these moments when I'm not around."

Y/n's smile turned into a gentle laugh, and she leaned up to kiss him softly. "You know, you could join us on our little dates."

"Could I?" Lewis' eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Because it seemed like he wasn't too happy about me crashing those special times today."

Y/n chuckled. "We'll make it our thing—all three of us."

Lewis seemed to consider this, his hands tightening around her. "I don't want to just be the guy who shows up between races, Y/n. I want to be part of all of it."

"You are" she reassured him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

He sighed, nodding slowly. "I know. I just hate missing out."

Y/n cupped his face, making him meet her gaze. "You're here now. And that's what matters."

As the rest of the evening went by the tension from earlier slowly dissipated. But Y/n couldn't help but notice how clingy Lewis was, not just with their son but with her too.

Every chance he got, he was touching her, keeping her close. When it was time to put their son to bed, Lewis lingered, his hands on the small of her back as she tucked the little boy in.

As they got ready for bed themselves, Y/n couldn’t contain herself anymore. She slipped into her nightwear, watching as Lewis pulled back the covers.

"So" she began, trying to sound casual, "you’re a little... possessive tonight."

"Possessive?" Lewis looked up; one eyebrow raised. "Is that what you call it?"

"Handsy would be a better word" Y/n teased, slipping into bed beside him.

Lewis smirked, leaning closer. "Maybe I missed you more than I realized."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the smile forming on her lips. "Or maybe you're still a bit jealous of a toddler."

Lewis didn’t deny it, instead pulling her into his arms, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe I am. But can you blame me?"

Y/n laughed softly, running her fingers tips on his arm. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"Um…" Lewis murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of their son's cries coming through the baby monitor. Y/n sighed, moving to get up, but Lewis held her back for a moment.

"Does he really need you every time?" he grumbled, clearly frustrated.

"He's two, Lewis," Y/n reminded him gently, though there was a hint of impatience in her tone. "And yes, he needs me because that's all he’s got."

The words were out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. Lewis’s expression shifted, something like hurt and understanding mixed on his features. "Y/n..."

"I’m sorry," she quickly apologized, her voice softening. "That’s not what I meant."

Lewis nodded, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Y/n nodded, leaning down to kiss him briefly before slipping out of bed.

She hurried to their son's room, finding him sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

"Dada?" he asked through sniffles, looking around as if expecting to see Lewis behind her.

Y/n’s heart melted a little, and she leaned into the crib, brushing his curls back. "Dada's asleep, sweetie. Do you want me to tuck you in?"

But their son shook his head, determined. "Dada."

Before Y/n could respond, Lewis appeared in the doorway, his expression softening as he saw their son. "Hey, buddy" he said quietly, crossing the room to pick him up.

The little boy immediately settled against his father’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around Lewis’s biceps.

Y/n watched as Lewis sat down in the recliner, cradling their son with a tenderness as she have them some space, slipping out of the room and back into bed.

When Lewis finally returned, his footsteps were soft as he approached the bed. He slipped in beside her, pulling her close and leaving a kiss to her exposed shoulder.

"Has he been waking up like that a lot?" Lewis asked, his voice tinged with concern as he settled into bed beside Y/n.

Y/n nodded, resting her head on his chest. "For the past couple of weeks mostly. The change in routine really got to him."

Lewis sighed deeply, his hand gently tracing circles on her back. "I should’ve been here for his first days at nursery."

Y/n lifted her head slightly, about to reassure him, but Lewis's hand on her back stilled her.

"Y/n, don’t" he began, his voice thoughtful. "It’s not just about missing his first days. It’s the time you’ve had with him, but also the time he’s had with you."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Lewis let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I missed you, too. Not just the way I always miss you when I’m away, but I missed being a part of this routine. The bedtime, the little 'dates,' the way he clings to you... I missed seeing you with him, and I missed having you to myself after all that."

Y/n's heart softened at his words, a tender smile tugging at her lips. "Lew, you’re always part of those moments, even when you’re not physically here."

Lewis’s eyes met hers, full of emotion. "I know I was stupid earlier, but it's because I love being with you—both of you. And when I'm not, it feels like I'm missing out on so much. As his dad and as your partner."

Y/n’s smile widened as she shifted to lie more comfortably against him. "I missed you too. More than you know. And trust me, our little guy missed you like crazy, even if he didn’t show it."

Lewis chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "He’ll come around. I just have to remind him that I'm part of this whole 'special date' thing too."

"You will," Y/n assured him, brushing a soft kiss against his neck. "And as for us, we’ll make up for lost time."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice filled with affection. "You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Hamilton."

And as Y/n began to drift off to sleep, Lewis leaned into her hear, whispering almost to himself "I really did miss you. And I’m not going anywhere. Not for long anyway."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf

Missed You | j.yunho

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.

5 months. 

For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs. 

You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?

Dinner. 

Dinner dinner dinner. 

You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children. 

You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.

“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of. 

You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water. 

It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side. 

When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face. 

You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you. 

Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy. 

The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed. 

“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet. 

“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie. 

“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”

You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass. 

Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock. 

“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”

“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak. 

You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.

“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ‘m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”

“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”

“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding. 

“Mm.”

“You…you fucked a pillow?”

“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone. 

Fuck. 

You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it. 

“Gonna hurt you…”

“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.

“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you. 

“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips. 

“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”

“When we get home—”

“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. 

“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”

“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”

You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips. 

“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”

“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh. 

You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark. 

You falter, pausing to catch your breath. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”

“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.

Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp. 

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”

“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.

“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. 

All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”

You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever. 

You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin. 

Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more. 

“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”

“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break. 

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit. 

“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles. 

“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”

You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs. 

“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver. 

“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”

You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him. 

“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you. 

“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”

You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. 

He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get. 

“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”

You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help. 

“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant. 

“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction. 

“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks. 

“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”

“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”

“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”

“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut. 

You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”

You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”

He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.

“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”

Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple. 

“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile. 

“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement. 

“I love you too, pretty.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

A HELL OF A MORNING

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,2k

part 2 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: Joel has his favorite thing for breakfast. His stepdaughter.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel’s POV, dub con but reader’s into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), blackmail, premature ejaculation, creampie, degradation, rough m!oral, brief choking on cock, slutshaming, praise kink, daddy kink, mention of public sex, spanking (1), cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: This mf wouldn’t leave my mind and after such a warm welcome of the first fic I’m happy to share more of his depravity with you. I hope you all will enjoy this new story❤️ A huge thank you to a lovely anon for this request and the inspo💕 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Ilysm! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST

There you were. Sweet thing in her little shorts and a tight top, sitting across from Joel at the breakfast table. Beautiful and hot. Just like a week ago, and a week before that. The only difference was that this morning he knew the feel of your pussy squeezing his cock, knew the taste of your soft lips, the weight of your tits in his hands. This morning you were his.

While Joel’s wife was setting the table for the three of you, you were throwing shy glances at your stepdad from time to time. Joel fucking loved it. Loved how anxious you were about what you two had done the previous night, loved how you flinched every time he spoke, scared that he’d tell the secret to your mother.

‘Honey, got news for ya. I’m fuckin your daugher. Pass the salt?’

Fuck no! He’d never do that, never ruin this thing between him and his sexy stepdaughter. Having you on a leash like that, using your holes whenever he pleased was a gift. You belonged to him and he was going to do everything to keep owning you.

Joel felt like the luckiest man on the planet when his horny thoughts were interrupted by your mom.

“My head’s killing me. I’m going back to bed,” she complained after taking a sip of her coffee and then left the two of you alone in the kitchen.

Fuck. Yeah.

Joel bricked up in a second. His cock was already throbbing in his jeans from all the memories of the previous night that had been flashing in his mind as soon as he had woken up that morning. He’d jerked off in the shower, eyes closed, head full of images of his stepdaughter, coming on his fingers, his cock, her dildo. Thanks to you, his spank bank was full for months ahead but did he even need it when he had a real thing to corrupt and fuck?

After his wife went upstairs, his stiffness began to ache in anticipation. He got a mild kick out of it because he knew that the remedy was sitting right in front of him. Tight magic hole of his stepdaughter was within arm’s reach.

What a sight you were! Eyes downcast, chest heaving, you knew damn well what was going to happen. Maybe even wished for it. Joel had no doubts what a little slut you were. Surely you were excited about a good ol’ morning fuck just like he was. And Joel was ready to oblige, storing a thick breakfast sausage for his favourite girl.

“Ya know what I always wanted to do since you moved to mine?“

A shiver seemed to run over your whole body when his voice broke the ringing silence in the room and you saw your stepdad get up and plop into a chair next to you. You smelled good, sweet and flowery, and Joel began salivating like a hungry wolf over a bunny.

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“Wanted to eat ya out,” Joel replied and poked the wooden surface of the table with his thick finger. “Right — poke— here — poke.”

His heavy gaze fixed on you, he sneered at the way you squirmed in your seat and kept pressing your naked thighs together.

Gah! The horny slut was already soaking her lil shorts.

Joel had an hour or so before his wife would wake up and he was going to use every single second to play with his stepdaughter.

“Did you like your dickin down yesterday?”

You bit your lip, eyes fixed on your lap. Then you whispered, probably scared to be heard by your mother.

“Joel. It’s so fucked up.”

“What is, sweetie?” Joel cooed, scooting closer to you with his chair. “The part where you made recordings of your stepdad fuckin your mom? Or the part where you came hard stuffed full of my dick and your pink rubber cock? Aw, look at you squirmin, ya pussy achin?” he chuckled and pressed, ”What’s exactly fucked up? Tell me.”

“All of it.” Your voice was barely heard. Poor thing must be so confused, terrified, Joel thought. He almost felt sorry for you but the lust immediately took over and he put his bear palm on your naked thigh.

“Yeah, I reckon ya right. But what’s done is done. If hell exists we’ll be there together, babydoll. So let’s have some fun when we still can, yeah?” He roughly squeezed your thigh and you shook your head, looking elsewhere but him.

“Don’t you forget, missy, you have no other choice,” Joel reminded you with a dark smile and leaned forward, his breath fanning your cheek. Your gaze snapped up to his and your pupils dilated when his face got close.

“Ya scared we’ll get caught? I get it.” Joel’s hand slithered higher, inching closer to your covered pussy. “Don’t worry. I’m always careful. If I’m fucking you, means the coast is clear. Relax and enjoy the ride, yeah? And if by some wild chance we’re caught, come up with a lie. No offense but your mom ain’t the brightest. You’d be full of my cock on the couch and she’d think we’re just cuddlin.”

Joel took a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck! why do I get so hard jus’ thinkin about it? Do I want her to watch me fuck you? What do you think?”

You scrunched your pretty nose but Joel didn’t fail to notice your squirming, your glossy eyes, your hardened nipples, tenting your top. He was happy to make you crazy for his cock and his dirty talk was working. Your body was succumbing to his horny taunting, but your mind was still fighting the inevitable.

“Stop it, please,” you begged, shaking like a little chihuahua. Your fear was making you tremble, but you were needy just as much as he was. A devilish smirk twisted Joel’s face as he continued,

“Let’s watch movies together. Every few days. We'll call it ’our bondin time’. You’ll be sittin snugly next to me on the couch. I’ll play with your pussy under a blanket, uh? You’ll try not to moan like a whore.”

“She’s not that stupid, Joel.” Your gaze got fiery, tone annoyed. Joel narrowed his eyes. Were you getting angry at him for tormenting you or at your mother for keeping you from getting railed by your stepdad on every horizontal surface in the house?

Smirking, Joel leaned back and spread his thighs wider. His cock was thumping in the confines of his jeans and he began palming it to get some relief.

He was torturing himself too, turning both of you to the max with his talk, but for sure the pay off was going to be worth it.

“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t be that ballsy,” he rubbed his scruffy cheek as he spoke, “Damn, if I could tell everyone I’m fuckin your little cunt. Dream! Using your holes in the open. You’d be cockwarming me at the first poker night I hosted.”

Joel loved when your breath hitched.

”Imagine Tommy’s face when he sees my sweet stepdaughter creamin ‘round my cock in her short skirt. I’d love to show you off, babydoll. You’re a ten.”

Your eyes clouded up, fixed on the coffee mug in front of you, and you slowly licked your lower lip. You seemed to be imagining the picture he was painting and Joel knew that you loved what you were seeing in your little cock-obsessed head.

Joel snapped his fingers and you jerked, waking up from your depraved daydreaming.

“Ya were a good girl for me yesterday but here are my rules.”

Your glossy eyes were blinking at him as you mumbled,

“Rules?”

You looked so confused like there was no thought in your pretty head whatsoever. Hell! He wanted to fuck that head.

“Yeah. My house, my rules, sweetie. First. No panties allowed. I wanna know your pussy is free to play whenever I want. And ‘s hot to know that you walk around like that.. ready for daddy to use.”

“Ohh..ok,” you looked down and he saw a little smile dance on your lips. Joel’s face got dark.

“Ya wearin any now?”

You shook your head, your head still down.

“Good girl,” Joel smirked and slapped his thigh with a palm. His chest expanded thinking you’d done it for him and then his mind short circuited.

Almost holding his breath he asked,

“Ya still leakin me?”

Your gaze darted up as you murmured, “I don’t know.”

“Check. Now.”

His tone wasn’t leaving any room for discussion so you brought your hand to your shorts. Joel couldn’t wait to see it. His hand was palming his giant hard-on which was beating hard against his thigh when he saw your hand disappear in your shorts and you moaned softly.

“Two fingers. Stretched you good yesterday. Fuck yourself a little for me. Gather everything you can.”

You locked eyes with him, gaze foggy, while your digits were working your pussy. Joel cupped your cheek and stroked your face with his calloused thumb.

“Such a good slut for daddy.”

He saw you breathing faster as your hand was picking up the pace between your legs.

“Stop! Makin you come’s my job. Pull ‘em out.”

You retrieved your fingers and you both saw them glistening in the light of the morning sun.

Joel took your hand and you gasped when he shoved your fingers into his mouth. He licked them clean, humming at the taste and smacking his lips like a fucking TV chef.

“Yeah, delicious pussy … what’s that undertone? Ah! My jizz!“

Joel’s smile was full of lust and triumph.

“Your little pussy kept some of daddy’s milk. I bet she wants me to fuck it deeper into you. But I need a better taste first. Get up.”

Joel made you stand between his spread thighs and shoot his blown eyes up at your face as his hand grabbed your pussy and he began kneading your soft mound and folds with his thick fingers. His movements were possessive, harsh, but still pleasant, judging by your expression - lips parted, eyes hazy, ready to roll back any second.

“Now the second rule. No boys in this house or anywhere else. You can fool around with your girlfriends if ya into that, I don’t give a fuck, but I don’t want any dicks around her, ya hear me? I want your pussy hungry for cock. My cock.”

Joel’s dick was unbelievably hard, trying to poke out of his jeans. ‘Fuck it! I’m in my own house. If I wanna pull the shlong out I will,” Joel thought and unzipped the fly with a carnal smile. His cock jumped out as soon as it was free and bobbed, looking engorged and ready to explode. But after tasting you, Joel craved more.

He spread his thighs wider, noticing the way you darted your eyes down to get a peek of his length.

“Miss it, babydoll? haven’t seen him all night, yeah?”

Joel pulled you closer by your hips, leaned down and pressed his nose right into your clothed mound.

You gasped and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

“What are you…?” the only thing you had time to say before a moan escaped your lips when Joel’s hot tongue licked your pussy over the thin material of your cotton shorts. They soaked in his saliva in a second and through the wet fabric he could easily feel your pulsating clit under his tongue. He was sure you felt his hot muscle there too by the way you fluttered your eyes shut and bit your lower lip.

For a few moments he kept kneading your asscheeks and licking over your shorts, soaking them and turning you on more and more.

Then your eyes snapped open and you looked at the door. Joel parted from your clothed pussy for a second to reassure you,

“Don’t worry, baby. There’s a squeaky step at the top of the stairs. I’ll know she’s comin.”

His words seemed to relax you a little and you held onto his shoulder tighter, trying to sway less under Joel’s hungry groping.

And his hunger was getting unbearable.

“Hop on the table, little slut.” Joel’s chin and mustache were glistening with his saliva. His voice was gruff and impatient. You did what he said, like a good girl, and your stepdad lifted your hips and pulled your shorts down, exposing you. In a second they were lying on the floor. The next command sounded like a growl as Joel sat closer to you in his chair.

“Feet up.”

You obediently placed your feet on the edge, hands planted behind you on the table. “Hey there, beautiful. Daddy’s ready to play.”

The sight of your cunt was driving Joel mad. Like a starving man, he buried his nose between your wet folds and took a big whiff off your drenched pussy. He’s never smelled anything hotter and groaned at the scent. You were so wet he could drink you for hours and he didn’t see any reason not to start. His hot tongue began sliding all over your cunt, gathering your slick off every crevice and fold, slurping and licking with obscene noises. Joel spread you open with his thick fingers so he wouldn’t miss a drop of your tangy nectar and his eyes were closed as he groaned against your perfect cunt.

When he opened his hazy eyes an image of you— jaw slack, chest and belly heaving, lashes fluttering- almost made him jizz all over your thighs. You looked gone, absolutely overdosed on pleasure.

Joel had to stop. The taste and the feel of your little cunt sent his cock and balls into a frenzy and he had planned to pump you full.

But when you looked at him and whispered a quiet ‘daddy, please’, his mouth as if by itself latched onto your crying pussy and he continued sucking, licking, nibbling on your folds and clit. You raked your fingers through his curls, scratched his scalp with your nails, and Joel moaned into your heat. He’s never been so horny in his life, never wanted anyone so strongly and it felt like he might have died if his balls weren’t drenched soon. His cock was leaking rivers of pre-fuck juice but Joel wanted to last, wanted to come inside you again.

“Want daddy’s tongue in your hole, baby?” Joel asked, brushing your puffy clit with his thumb and taking in the sight of you. You were longing for a release and it didn’t surprise him when you nodded eagerly.

“No, tell me. Wanna hear it.”

“Please, fuck me with your tongue, daddy,” you murmured and your blown puppy eyes and a thirsty- slut expression sent his tongue right into your flattering hole. Joel moved his head back and forth, reaching with his thick tongue as deep as it would go, lapping off your slick that was flowing out of you generously. His hands were kneading your thighs, until one snaked up to your chest and under your top. He found your soft tit and began groping and squeezing it while his tongue was thrusting into your tight hole.

Joel’s plans crushed when you started coming. Your walls began clamping on his tongue, your legs trembling, but what caused his misfire was your needy ‘daddy—daddy— ‘m coming— ahhh’. That and the sight of your face all ecstatic and sexy made him thrust his hips up, his balls drew up and his cock began spurting cum all over the place like a damn volcano. Growling and cursing through his teeth, Joel grabbed it by the base, trying to minimize the damage but all in vain. His creamy jizz landed on your thighs, your twitching clit, puffy folds, his neck, his jeans and the table. It was a fucking mess.

When Joel stopped coming, he pushed his sweaty hair back with his hand and leaned back on the chair. Panting, you placed your feet on the floor and stood up on your shaky legs in front of him. Joel’s cum was sliding down your thighs so you padded to the counter and grabbed a paper towel. You cleaned yourself up, then came back and handed some to Joel. But he kept sitting, watching you, legs spread, cock softening but still huge resting on his left thigh.

“Bad girl.”

“Hm?”

“Made me come without stickin it up your pussy.”

“I —Joel, I didn't do anything.”

“Bullshit.” He was fuming. He hadn’t busted a nut like that since he’d been a teen. Fucking embarrassing.

You needed to be punished.

“On your knees. Lick it up.”

“Joel..”

“Lick. It. Up.” His tone was cold.

He saw you swallow loudly, eyes full of fear of the steel in his voice. He didn’t pity you at that moment, his hunger for you had been temporarily satiated and everything he felt then was the desire to possess, control, bend your will to his.

The sight of you kneeling between his legs put a dark smile on his face, and when you swiped your little tongue over his hairy thigh, gathering the spilled cum, it morphed into a grin.

”Everything, babydoll,” he commanded and leaned forward to grab his mug off the table. The coffee was lukewarm but it would do, he needed to rehydrate after busting such a big load. The load you were eating off his soft cock right that moment.

”Bon appetit, little whore,” Joel gloated, sipping his drink, as you were working on cleaning him, your eyes fluttering shut from time to time. You were swallowing his jizz again and again, your tongue soft and hot, and soon Joel began enjoying not only your humiliation, but also the sensation of your gentle tongue dancing over his dick, his balls, his inner thighs.

Joel was chewing on his lower lip, eyes blown, as his cock was waking up.

You were pulling away from his hardening length but suddenly Joel‘s strong hand pushed your head down, spearing your mouth with his cock.

Joel’s fat tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged. Your nails sank into his thighs, teary eyes snapped up to his face with panic, as he was making you choke on his thick dick.

“What is it, babydoll? Ain’t used to huge shlongs, uh? ‘s ok, we’ll train ya,” he cooed, bringing the mug to his lips. He took a sip and then let you free. You coughed, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and glaring at him.

Joel put the mug back on the table and his hand, wrapped around your upper arm, pulled you up on your feet.

While you were still catching your breath, Joel manhandled you down onto his lap. You whined but didn’t fight it. The sensation of your wet pussy pressed to his crotch, your juicy naked ass on his thighs injected a new shot of arousal into his veins.

“Daddy’s back in business, sweetie. C’mon, sit on ‘im.“ Joel lifted you up slightly and then, holding his cock at the base, slid the leaking head between your soaked folds, searching for heaven.

“Bull’s eye,” he chuckled when his fat tip caught on your sloppy entrance.

“Make her eat him—bet ya pussy’s hungry — yeah—hnggg”! he grunted, feeding your cunt his dick in one go. You arched your back and softly whimpered.

“Still tight as fuck. Shit.”

You were sitting on his length fully, warm and wet, and Joel’s arms snaked around your body, caging you in, keeping you close.

“Damn, this cunt of yours… fuckin made for me… to milk my cock… to drive me crazy.”

All you could muster to reply was a moan which came out louder than Joel expected.

“Fuck,” he growled and crashed his mouth against yours, his big hand on the back of your head. You didn’t fight him, maybe it would have been hot if you’d done a little, but your submission, your desire for his cock, was feeding Joel’s ego, making him throb harder, grow faster inside you.

Kissing you, he felt your pussy thump around him, squeeze his already stiff shaft tighter with every beat of your fluttering heart.

“Ride me, ride my dick,” Joel groaned, parting from your whimpering lips, and almost choked when you began moving up and down, slowly first, helping yourself with your hands planted on his broad shoulders and then picking up the pace. His bear paws were kneading your ass, lifting you up in assistance while your walls were massaging his cock just right.

“Yeah—she’s somethin, babydoll— best pussy I had— swear—fuckin hell.”

You seemed to love bouncing on your stepdad’s dick. With sweat covering your forehead, you were glowing in the sunlight. If Joel were romantic he’d compare you to an angel. But he was a lust-driven, immoral asshole so he barked,

“Lovin it, horny slut?”

You didn’t reply, already cock dumb, too concentrated on your upcoming release. Suddenly you leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. Joel felt your tongue dance over his skin and he realized that you were licking off the cum left there.

“Good fuckin girl,” he praised you with a chuckle. “Ain’t even need to tell ya.”

Joel’s head fell back and his jaw got slack as you were kissing his jaw and neck, still riding him. When you pulled back, your lips and chin glistening, Joel dropped his head to watch your cunt swallow his shaft again and again. Your cream was gathering on the base of his cock and covering his coarse pubes.

Your movements were getting hectic, desperate, and Joel was ready to come too.

“Milk daddy again, babydoll. Make it right this time. Let me fill ‘er up.”

You pressed your body close to his with need and after moaning ’Daddy’ into the crease of his neck began shaking on his cock, squeezing it, pulsating, gripping it tight.

It sent Joel right over the edge and his dick spat a long rope of cum into your core, then another and another. He grabbed you by the waist and started moving you up and down, prolonging your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper. He wanted it inside you forever, claiming you, marking you, making you his. Joel squirted the final rope with his arms under yours, his hands pressing on your shoulders, pushing your whole body onto his cock. He emptied his balls to the last drop and you accepted his load moaning and whimpering.

Joel slouched in the chair, exhausted but satisfied, and you rested on his chest. A few moments later Joel looked at his watch and croaked, getting your attention with a light spank over your ass,

“C’mon up, sweetie. She’ll be up soon.”

Joel helped you to get up and cleaned his cum off the table with the paper towel. You weren’t helping. Standing by Joel, you looked drunk, your legs shaking. Your stepdad smirked after assessing your look and helped to put your shorts back on.

“Damn. Lookin like after a gangbang. Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled and stumbled to the door, like a deer that recently learnt how to walk. Joel furrowed his brows. Your mom would definitely ask what had happened to you. Hopefully she wouldn’t see you sneaking up to your room.

Unfortunately, Joel’s luck ran out. He heard a squeak.

Fuck!

In three big steps Joel reached you and took you in his arms, bridal style. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Follow my lead,” he said under his breath and carried you out of the kitchen.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” his wife exclaimed, frozen in the middle of the stairs.

“She hit her toe, honey. Clumsy girl. Don’t worry. I’ll help her up to her bedroom.”

You were nodding, looking sad, and Joel smirked in his mind. Little slut was ready to lie.

“Is it broken?” Your mom’s voice was worried.

“No, just hurts,” you replied with a shaky voice, ”I’ll be fine.”

Joel hurriedly walked up the stairs, carrying you in his strong arms, leaving you mother behind.

”Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get her everything she needs.”

“Thank you, Joel,” he heard his wife say on her way to the kitchen. Hopefully she won’t notice the scent of sex and cum there, Joel thought.

He shut your bedroom door behind him with his foot, carried you to the bed and laid you down.

“What did I tell ya? She’ll believe anythin,” he smirked, standing by the bed, his hands on his hips.

You smiled a little and leaned against the headboard with a sigh of relief.

Joel’s gaze slid down from your tired looking face to your shorts. An idea of pushing his cum back into your soft hole with his fingers flashed in his mind. No! He needed to return to the kitchen and reassure your mother. God forbid she’d come up to check on you and notice all the cum stains on your clothes.

“We had fun, uh, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Wasn’t talkin to you,” Joel gruffed before bending down and petting your pussy over your shorts. You scuffed and Joel barked a loud laugh.

Then he left your bedroom with a wide smile on his face and thoroughly drained balls.

Thank you for reading! Comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || stepdad Joel drabble || more step family naughtiness

Tag list:@milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who might be interested @toxicanonymity @she-could-never @kiwiharrykiwi @joelalorian @tateypots @magpiepills @pedroswife69 @megangovier @baroness @witchofthedeepwoods

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello! If you are willing I would like to request a Frankie morales x reader oneshot? 🙃🙃 im obsessed with Frankie x wife reader lately and I was thinking maybe you could write somethin where the reader is pregnant and having cramps / contractions while Frankie is out with his friends and calls him all freaked out but even though it’s just false labour he still rushes home anyway?🥰🥰

(I love your writing btw I hope you accept this request thank you <3)

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐲 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

Pairing Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary A night of laughter, love, and quiet devotion reminds you and Frankie how much your world has grown—especially with your baby on the way.

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! This is my first time writing for Frankie, so let me know what you guys think. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Across the living room, the evening news drones so low, the TV might as well not be on at all. Ten minutes ago, Frankie left you alone on the couch to go get ready for a night out. You’d looked up from your book long enough to catch the wink he shot you before disappearing up the staircase.

As easy as it would be for him to stay in, you insisted he go out and enjoy himself. The two of you had finally settled into your new home. Soon enough, the guys were starting to rib him about falling off the face of the earth.

He's getting better at striking a balance these days. 

“Alright, hermosa,” he announces as he descends the stairs. “Here’s what I’m working with...” 

Frankie walks back into the living room in dark-wash jeans and a sage button down. As you set your book aside, he offers a goofy spin in a lighthearted mockery of what you oftentimes do. You try to restrain your smile, but it shines through anyways. Frankie grins like he’s won a prize, teeth glinting along with the sparkle in his dark eyes.

Everyone said he was trouble when you first met. It didn’t take long to realize they meant the intoxicating kind that disarms a room, draws people in, makes them feel seen. The kind you’d never recover from losing if you let slip away. 

A year ago, he got down on one knee and asked you for forever. That was the moment you realized that, in turn, you were the trouble he couldn’t bear to lose.  

Before you have the chance to stand, he stalks over to you and leans down to capture your lips in a brief, tender kiss. 

You smile when he pulls away to stand back up to his full height, all six feet and broad shoulders. Looking up at him from your seated position feels a little funny, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If for no other reason than the gentle way he pinches your upturned chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Have fun,” you murmur as you blink up at him. 

“I will.”

“And be safe.”  

“Yes ma’am.” Frankie’s touch falls away, and you stand to wrap your arms around his neck.

You tuck your nose into his shirt as his strong arms encircle your waist. He smooths a large hand up your back before stilling at the nape of your neck to deliver a firm but gentle squeeze. As he starts to pull away, you slip your fingers into his hair to scratch his scalp with your nails. It’s been a while since his last haircut, and now the dark strands curl beneath his ears. 

Frankie hums a low note of satisfaction. “Not fair.” 

“Completely fair,” you lilt.

He chuckles and pulls back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft as he says, “Should be back in a couple hours.” 

“I’ll wait up.”

"You don't have to," he says.

"Don't I always?"

He thinks back over the times he's gone out without you, and yeah. You always do.

•••

It's quiet when he arrives back home. 

He kicks his boots off at the door and notices a pink sticky note on the wall above the key holder. There's a smiley face and heart drawn on it along with "welcome back!!!" Frankie feels himself smiling as he plucks it off the wall and saunters further into the house. 

In the living room, one lamp remains on so he can navigate his way through the otherwise dark space. You've folded the throw blanket. Fluffed and arranged the pillows like you do every night before bed. It’s the little things like that, little signs of life, that he’ll never tire of coming back home to. 

When Frankie finally enters the bedroom, he sees your smile in the warm, dim lamplight. You're kneeling on the bed wearing the cutesy black pajama set he likes on you. A breathy chuckle escapes him as he takes you in before his eyes find yours. 

He plays off the warmth in his cheeks by holding up the sticky note you had left for him. 

You tilt your head with innocent, furrowed brows. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Beats me," he plays along as you slide off the bed. 

He sets the note on the dresser so he can rest his hands on your waist when you approach. The scent of vanilla evades his senses in the gentlest way. 

“Did you have fun?” It’s a genuine question, but his mind goes fuzzy when you smooth your hands from his stomach up to his pecs. 

With a distracted nod, his thumbs slip beneath your satin tank top to brush your skin. All he can think about is the gentleness of your touch. The way you begin to toy with the button at the top of his shirt without actually unbuttoning it. 

“But not too much fun, right?” you ask. “You’re not too tired, are you?” 

You finally pop the first button undone, then the next one, then the next. Revealing more and more of the dusting of hair across his tanned chest. 

Rather than answering, he scoops you over his shoulder as you squeak his name. 

- 

Eight Months Later

It’s been a while since Frankie laughed this hard. When he’s finally on the verge of catching his breath, Santiago picks up from where Will left off in the story, and that pleasant side ache returns. If he weren't too busy swiping the tear from his eye, he reckons he’d see every head in the bar turned to gawk at the four cackling hyenas. A live country rock band plays as their soundtrack.

Luckily, that isn’t the case. Like them, everybody is lost in their own little worlds. With their own inside jokes and old stories that endure no matter how many times they're told. 

“And that’s what your ass gets for trying to show off,” Will concludes. It earns him a prompt elbow to the side from his younger brother, whose cheeks are either flushed from the whiskey or embarrassment. 

It had been the story about Benny getting told off by a group of older women during a group trip to Panama. Not in English, but in Spanish. The icing on the cake was that they had been pausing every few words so Santiago could translate for them in real time. 

As their amusement begins to settle, they look around at each other and shake their heads. It’s been too long since they’ve gotten together like this. Frankie takes a small swig from his beer and lets his head rest against the wall behind him. 

Under the dim lights, with drinks on the table, and surrounded by strangers, it feels as though no time has passed at all.  

Benny’s eyes rove over to the recreation room, where people shoot pool and throw darts. 

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to kick some ass in a game of 501,” he says. 

William folds his hands on the table. “We puttin' money up?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Benny scoffs and pulls a face. “I’m leaving here with something.” 

“Twenty-five each and the winning team splits the pot?” Santiago proposes. “I call Fish on my team.” He gives Frankie's shoulder a squeeze.

Benny drums a beat on the table. “Let’s do it.” 

They’re in the middle of scooting past other patrons when Frankie’s phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He doesn’t expect to see a picture of your face light up the screen. Santiago is the only one in the group who notices. 

“Gotta take this,” Frankie tells him, and answers the call as he turns away. 

“Hang on one second, honey, I’m getting someplace quiet.” 

To make it to the front of the establishment, he shuffles between a small sea of tables filled with people with loose smiles and glowy faces. He holds the door open for a group of young ladies filing inside, which earns him a series of chirpy thank-yous. The giddy energy of the night fades once he’s outside, as if it was all stuffed within the walls of Dave's Bar and Grill. With the patio being around back, only a few people stand smoking out front. 

The air is warm. A couple of the parking lot lights flicker. Frankie heads toward one of the benches as he says, “Alright, sweetheart, I’m here.”

A heavy breath is the first thing that greets him from the other end of the line. 

“Frankie,” your voice is shaky, and his brow furrows as he takes a seat. 

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice even softer. 

“I’m cramping pretty bad right now.” You take another deep breath. “I think it’s the Braxton Hicks the nurse was telling us about. They’re finally happening.” 

He stands from the bench and begins pacing along the curb. “You sure they're the false ones?” he asks. “You know you’re body better than anybody else…” 

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure.” Another sharp ache pulses low in your stomach, and makes you bite back a small whine. 

Frankie releases his lower lip from between his teeth as guilt tugs at his chest. “Go lay down, okay?” he says as he fishes his truck keys out of his pocket. “Or run yourself a bath if you can manage. Nurse said that’s supposed to help.” 

Shuffling arises on your end. “Okay,” you murmur.

“I’m on my way.” 

Tonight, you can’t muster the willpower to tell him to stay out with his friends. Ever since you hit the thirty-four-week mark, you’ve been hyper-aware of every pang, flutter, and gurgle. Even if you were the one feeling the heat, it was easier to walk through the flames with him. 

“Drive safe, okay?” you say. “Go the speed limit.” 

“I’m always safe.” It’s a white lie, but he was getting much better. Especially now that he was about to have two people looking forward to him arriving home in one piece at the end of the day. 

Life is a delicate, fragile, remarkable thing. It’s a fact that solidified all the more the first time you showed him a black-and-white ultrasound and pointed out your little girl. 

“I’ll be there soon,” he promises. 

Santiago steps outside as he's hanging up, immediately scoping out Frankie. 

“Everything alright, man?” He searches Frankie’s gaze. He’s always analyzing and piecing together. People, places, things. Frankie doesn’t have to say anything. “Your wife and baby okay?” 

Frankie nods, but there’s worry etched across his face. “Gonna head home to be on the safe side.”  

“I’ll let the guys know.” Santiago pulls Frankie into a hug and gives him a few pats on the back. “It was good seeing you tonight.” 

“Likewise.”

“Guess it’ll have to be a playdate next time,” Santiago teases. 

Frankie cracks a smile. 

•••

With the bathroom door cracked, you can hear the familiar shuffling of Frankie entering the house. His keys clink into the bowl shortly before the steps begin to creak under his weight. One purposeful footstep after the next, until he’s filling the doorway with a hand on his hip. But you sit in the bathtub with your eyes closed and your head tipped back. The subtle scent of lavender fills the humid air. You’re only visible from your collarbones up, and your pregnant stomach rises above the bubbly water. 

Rather than speaking, he stands there and takes you in with those soft, dark eyes. You’re beautiful where you lay. His gaze is palpable, and opening your eyes to meet it solidifies for him that you’re okay. It's a silent assurance. These moments when you don't need words have only grown in number. Every trace of worry that once existed has dwindled away.

As he takes a small step inside, he tosses his baseball cap onto the sink counter and runs a hand through his hair. Tension melts from his shoulders in real time. Makes him look even taller where he stands.  

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you say, then note, "Your shoes."

The teasing undertone to your words makes him chuckle. At himself, at the fact that he’d rushed home, despite your warning, with a head full of clamoring thoughts. Thoughts of arriving to you in labor and having to deliver his own child. Or packing you into his truck and needing to pull over and do the very same. There was no middle ground.

He’d dedicated years of his life to working under the most intense pressure, but it was his pregnant wife who’d finally thrown that composure off course.  

Yet here you were pointing out the fact that he had tracked his shoes upstairs.

Frankie crouches to untie his boots before kicking them off his feet. He stumbles in the process and has to brace himself on the sink. The smile already budding on your face blooms into a fuller one when he huffs and peeks over at you. When you straighten up, the water sloshes and reveals more of you chest. 

A long sigh escapes him as he sits alongside the tub and stretches his long legs out in front of him. That’s when a laugh bubbles up your throat. Despite his best efforts to retrain his own amusement, he can’t help but join in. The two of you sit there laughing in a mix of relief and acceptance of the fact that your worlds have only just begun to change. 

A comfortable silence soon settles in the space between you. Frankie gets an almost wistful look about him as he stares straight ahead. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask after a while. 

He rests his arm on the side of the tub. “Us,” he answers. “Being parents.”  

There’s an understated sense of anticipation in his tone that he still hasn’t been able to put into words. A small hint of apprehension lingers too, but the type that propels as opposed to paralyzes. 

You hum as you run a wet hand over your glistening stomach. 

“I love you,” he continues softly. “I love her.”

He reaches out to splay his large hand over your stomach. You smile as he continues talking, “Love that I get to do this with you.” 

Fondness swells in your chest all the more. Like a third lung set on sustaining you too. 

“I’d kiss you right now, but I don’t know how,” you admit. 

Without hesitating, Frankie shifts so he’s able to steady your chin and press his lips to yours. You lift a hand to rest the tips of your fingers against his scruffy cheek. Frankie hums when you ghost your tongue along his lower lip, only to pull away like you have something to say. Before you can speak, he presses back in for one more soft peck, then touches his forehead to yours. 

You feel yourself smiling. “What I was trying to say,” you start, but Frankie kisses you again because you’re right there, and because he can.

Butterflies erupt all throughout your stomach. 

“Go ahead,” he finally coaxes with a small smile, lips brushing yours. “What were you gonna say, hermosa?” There’s a gruff, honeyed quality to his voice that you’re certain is intentional. 

“That I love you too,” you whisper. 

-

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

FRANKIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[heytheredelulu]

I was wondering if you could do maybe a like feral Bucky? Like maybe they trigger the soldat and instead of him fallowing their orders he goes after the shy curvy little intern of Tony’s? They’ve both been too shy to make a move. I’m cool with whatever spin you put on it, I LOVE your writing.

(Love all your normal kinks so feel free to add those too as you see fit! )

Thank you lovely 🥰 Can’t wait to drool over more of your writing lol

I took this and RAN with it.

It ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated so this one will be broken up into two parts.

I struggled with trying to incorporate Bucky being triggered after the reader already being somewhat aquatinted with him, pining after him, etc. so I went the route I did and I hope it fulfills your request!

Part one will be mostly just plot building with a spicy cliff hanger leading us into a part two of pure smut.

Ready to Comply - Part One - Anon Request

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, choking, blood (Bucky is strugglin’ and bites his own hand), a lil sexual tension in prep for part two, he sniffs her coochie, okay?

“Okay, stop. Stop that.” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth. You shot him a glance and tugged at your skirt one more time for good measure. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “You look fine, Rookie. Very professional. Is that what you needed to hear?”

You scoff and shake your head. “That’s no- I’m not fishing for compliments, I genuinely hate dressing like a fucking secretary.” You grumble, drawing a laugh out of Tony. “And don’t call me ‘Rookie.’” You add with a prod to his chest. He brushes the front of his suit jacket sarcastically in response to your poke and raises his hands defensively, a soft chuckle rising from his throat.

“A fucking secretary? Really? It’s business professional. Did you think I could let you stand next to me in a press conference wearing an old t-shirt and some torn up jeans? We need to create a semblance of professionalism.” He gestures to his own attire with a grin and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he continues.

“And what’s wrong with ‘Rookie’? You’re my little protégé.” He jests, reaching like he’s going to pinch your cheek as if you were some adorable little toddler. You frown, swatting his hand away and brings it to his chest, clutching it dramatically. “Wow, you’re going to assault your friend, mentor and extremely rich and handsome boss?” He jokes, feigning offense.

“The only accurate adjective in that sentence is ‘boss’, Sir.” You reply dryly, crossing your arms. The corners of his lips twitch into a sly smile and he nudges you with his elbow. “I’ll accept if you don’t agree with friend and mentor.” He starts, pressing his lips into a pout. “But I might actually get a little offended if you refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome I am.”

You groan in annoyance and roll your eyes, preparing a witty comeback when Pepper Potts rounds the corner with a tablet cradled in her arm, a phone nestled between her ear and shoulder and an expression of concern written across her face.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me.. another offer for People’s ‘sexiest man alive’? I keep telling them, I can’t be on the cover every ye-“ Tony stops mid sentence as Pepper’s manicured forefinger lands on his lips, effectively silencing him.

“Yes. Okay. Understood. Thank you.” She says curtly into the phone before disconnecting the call. “That was Fury. We have an issue. A Barnes issue.”

Your brows furrow at this. “What’s happened with Bucky?” You ask, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. He’d been all but isolated since he’d moved into the Avenger’s tower alongside his best friend Steve Rogers and you couldn’t imagine him being the source of an issue with how reserved this man was. You weren’t at all oblivious to his past- it had been global wide news after all, but in the months since his de-conditioning in Wakanda he had been making great strides towards recovery, working to make amends.

Though your interactions with the ex-assassin had been few, he’d always been polite and kind towards you. You’d felt so out of place among the Avengers, being Tony’s intern. You weren’t on the team, hell, a few of them didn’t even know your name despite you having been trailing behind Tony for the last year. Maybe it was your own fault, considering you hadn’t really made an effort to talk to any of them but aside from the fact that they were all extremely intimidating, you were naturally a shy and quiet person.

You quickly push the self deprecating thoughts from your head. You didn’t care about any of that. You shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be on the team, or were there to make friends, you were here as an engineer, to learn from who was arguably the most intelligent man on the planet. Perhaps that’s why Bucky had always been cordial to you more than some of the others living here. Maybe he gravitated towards you, as someone who constantly felt so out of place, because he felt that way here as well.

Or maybe he thought you were cute.

Oh fuck, if only.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to the man or that you’d been quietly crushing on him practically since you’d started your internship. Every small interaction with Bucky left a blush on your cheeks and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting about your belly.

The thought of someone as absurdly good looking as Bucky fucking Barnes finding you attractive was enough to spark a surge of heat straight to your abdomen.

No, get it together. Now’s not the time.

You mentally scold your vagina for having the nerve to throb at the mere mention of Bucky Barnes regardless of the context and turn your attention back to Pepper and Tony as they argued in hushed whispers.

“What’s happened with Bucky?” You repeat, knowing they likely won’t clue you in if it’s related to Avenger’s business.

Tony offers a nervous smile and exchanges a quick glance with his wife before he checks his watch. “Terminator? He’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably holed up with security for setting off the metal detector.” He pauses and then snaps his fingers. “Or maybe he walked past the junkyard on fifth and got snatched up by the hydraulic magnet.” He says, lifting a hand and miming a crane.

Pepper lets out a soft sigh and your gaze flicks to her. “Yeah, a big magnet or something.” She mumbles, turning her attention back to her tablet. “I don’t think that’s-“ Your cut off by Tony’s hand on the small of your back, urging you forward. “Enough about Robocop. We’re on, Rookie.” He says, his nervous expression falling away and quickly being replaced with a mask of professionalism. “Let’s go unveil our project to the press.” Pepper moves to open the door for you both and before you can open your mouth to tell Tony that if he calls you ‘rookie’ one more time you were going to strangle him with his overpriced tie, your senses are overwhelmed with an onslaught of overlapping voices and camera shutters.

You toss your blazer over the desk in your quaint office and slump over into the chair, trying not to let your mind run wild with anxious thoughts about the press conference. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but worry that you probably looked like a deer in headlights up at the podium alongside Tony.

You huff and rest your chin on the back of your hand, glancing over at the computer screens. Your attention is immediately drawn to security footage from one of the conference rooms when you see movement on the monitor. You lean in with your brows furrowed. It’s late and no one should be in the conference room. You expand the image and can clearly make out Tony and Steve moving about the room with tense body language.

You hover over the footage with your mouse and hesitate. You know that you absolutely should not eavesdrop on the two men but once Tony’s hands begin angrily gesturing around you give in to temptation and turn on the audio.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘back up?’” Tony shouts, beginning to pace the room.

Steve leans forward with his palms on the table and his head bowed slightly. “It’s exactly what I said, Tony.” He replies, his biceps flexing as he grips the table. “HYDRA had a fail safe. They’d planted a back up activation incase he would ever manage to be deprogrammed.” He looks up at Tony with a solemn expression. “They got to him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve-“

Tony holds out a hand, his other resting against his temple as he tries to comprehend what Steve is telling him. “Well you weren’t and they did so know we have to figure out how the fuck we navigate this.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “Do we have eyes on him? Is he in the building?”

Steve sighed and stood upright from the table. “No. He’s in the wind. We lost contact with him a few hours ago.” He admits, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something you need to know.” He adds, looking at Tony with concern as he begins to pace again.

“Well spit it out, Rogers!” Tony yells, stopping and turning back to Steve.

“Nat received some intel. The hit HYDRA ordered is on you and your intern.” He says so quietly you can barely pick it up on the audio. Fear crawls up your spine and your hand trembles as you increase the volume on the security feed, while your heartbeat in your ears becomes near deafening.

Tony stiffens, slowly approaching Steve. “You wanna tell me why?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve nods. “The new tech you unveiled today.“ He explains.

Tony sighs, understanding why one of their enemies would be threatened by what the two of you had been working on and reaches to loosen his tie. “I’ll take Pepper and move her to the safe house before I meet you at a rendezvous point. Send someone to get my Rookie and get her off the grid. I don’t want her alone for a single second.” He says in an exasperated tone, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his cell phone as he stalks towards the door.

“And Rogers?” He asks, turning around one last time, his hand curled tight around the doorknob. Steve’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with guilt ridden eyes. “Yeah?”

“Find Barnes.”

Find Barnes.

The statement echoes in your ears, sending your thoughts spinning as if a category five hurricane were waging inside your head.

No. No, no, no.

There’s a hit out on you?

To be carried out by the fucking Winter Soldier.

Oh you were so fucked.

You scoot your chair back, bracing your hands on the desk to stand with wobbly knees.

Bile rises in your throat as you take a slow step backwards, bumping the chair in your state of panic and knocking your jacket off the workbench. You jump at the sound of it slipping to the floor and clutch your chest as a result of inducing your own jumpscare and take slow breaths to steel your nerves before you bend down to pick it up. As you rise back upright, your gaze connects with a pair of vacant, icy blue eyes in the shadows across the room and your entire body seizes in terror.

He’s not in the wind.

He’s been in here with you this entire goddamned time.

“B-Bucky?” You stutter, bringing your jacket to your chest and grasping it until your knuckles turn white. Maybe Steve and Tony were wrong. Maybe Nat’s intel was wrong. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding and you weren’t about to die at the hands of the ex-assassin you’ve been pining over for nearly a year.

He takes a step forward from the shadows, his face expressionless and his eyes unblinking without a single trace of emotion behind them.

Okay, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You whisper, almost a plea to the man you knew, locked away somewhere in the brain of the cold and calculated killer standing in front of you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t register your words, as he crosses the lab in a few quick strides and catches your throat in his cybernetic hand.

Oh god.

The air leaves your lungs, his grip tightening around your windpipe as his face remains blank.

You’re going to die.

So why are you so fucking turned on?

Heat pools low in your abdomen, your core flooding with arousal, coupled with fear and unbridled lust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you gasp and thrash in his grip, your thick thighs rubbing together with every kick and flail, doing nothing to alleviate the throbbing ache in your cunt.

God this is so wrong.

His brows furrow, the first hint of emotion since he stepped out of the shadows. His head tilts inquisitively and his grip slackens around your throat as he leans in, tracing his nose across your jaw line and inhaling deeply. You still, your face contorting in confusion as you swallow hard against his palm, leaning your body into his hold.

His eyes narrow as he pulls away from you and you take the opportunity to suck in a breath, massaging your neck gently while your gaze drops to observe his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” You ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, wondering if maybe he’s somehow snapped out of the trance he’d been in. He’s still and silent for a long moment, his head bowed as his chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

“Sergeant Barnes, are yo-“

His head snaps up, effectively silencing you.

Your mouth remains agape, stuck on your last word and as he watches you with predatory eyes, taking menacing steps toward you, you can’t seem to find your voice any longer. You stumble backwards, losing your balance and falling back against the desk, unable to regain your footing before his hands grip the flesh of your bare thighs.

He tilts you backwards, your back colliding hard with the surface of the desk, stealing the breath out of your chest. He drops to his knees, splaying his palms against your thighs, the hem of your dress rising up to expose your panties as he spreads your legs wide before him and drags his nose across the fabric.

He groans.

He fucking groans.

“You’re my mission.” He breathes out, eyes wild and fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if he were fighting to physically restrain himself.

“I know.” You whimper, lifting your head to look down at him over the soft curve of your stomach.

“I’ve been ordered to kill you.” He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh and drawing in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

He turns his head and mumbles something incoherently, his breath ghosting against the damp fabric of your underwear and sending a wave of arousal crashing through your core. He stiffens, curling his flesh hand into a fist and bringing it to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as he swallows back a moan.

He shakes his head, his teeth pressing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and you move to sit up, leaning on your palms as you look down at him where he’s slotted between your legs, visibly trembling.

He rises quickly to his feet, his left hand shooting out to curl around your neck again and he drops his bloodied flesh hand to his side.

“Because..” He says through clenched teeth, inhaling sharply as the cool metal of his thumb strokes the column of your throat.

“I can’t fucking focus when all I can smell-“

His free hand roughly cups your pussy over your panties, his voice trailing off as he kneads his palm against the thin, wet fabric.

He growls, tightening his grip around your throat and jerking you up to him, forcing you to meet his threatening gaze.

His expression grows pained and he whimpers, dipping his head to meet your forehead with his own, his breath fanning across your face with every heave of his chest.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@suz7days @blackbirdwitch22 @truthfulliarr @lilacka

Part two

[awakenedevildays]

you should do a stiles fic/blurb/imagine based of off the song not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker. like a fluff fic where reader and stiles are just so in love with eachother.

「not a lot, just forever」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

a/n: this was so fun but so hard to write, thank you for requesting anon, I loved writing it!🩷

warning: none really, aged up characters (18 in the first, 23 in the other two).

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

And your dearest fantasy 

Is to grow a baby in me

I could be a good mother

And I wanna be your wife

"you know you're like- the prettiest girl in the world?" he slurs as you make him sit on the bed, his drunk and sleepy body doesn't protest as he falls lazily on it.

"Am I now?" you ask with a smile and he nods with a dopey grin, his pupils slightly dilated and hair messy from the night he spent with Scott in a bar, 'bro's night', as they call it. 

He nods, the dopey grin staying as he continues to look at you with what he thinks is a flirty look, but in reality is just him looking at you in a drunk daze. "You should model." He says and leans back, his arms holding him up as he looks you up and down

You giggle "so love really is blind" you say as you take the hem of his shirt to take it off him. 

His smile disappears like you actually offended him. "don't say that." he raises his arms to help you in the task and his hair get even messier than before. "Every time I look at you, it's like-" he lets out a soft sigh, the alcohol in his veins is making him more sentimental than usual. "it's like I forget how to breathe."

"baby how much did you drink?" your worried but amused tone makes him grin again.

"A.. a lot." he admits, his grin is somewhat guilty as he sits there in just his jeans. "I lost count after the seventh shot." he mutters and sighs annoyed at his lids that are feeling heavier than normal and his spinning head.

"Stiles! what made you think that was a good idea?" you scold him while making him wear his sleep shirt. 

"Scott... He said I couldn't handle that many shots in a row and I wanted to prove him he was wrong." he admits and pulls the shirt on with your help, groaning as he leans against the headboard. "Turns out... I was wrong."

You stifle a laugh. "Of course you were." you reach down to unbutton his jeans. 

"Hey now, who said you could do that?" he teases lazily and takes your fingers in his to stop them. "I'm still sober enough to do it myself, y'know."

"yeah? go on then." you raise again and put your hands on your hips expectantly

Stiles chuckles and clumsily stands on his feet to undo them himself, but his vision is going all swirly and his hands feels numb. "Uhm," he mutters and blinks a few times before looking up at you with almost pleading, puppy eyes. "Just- help a lil' tipsy guy here, yeah?"

You roll your eyes amused and help him take them off, his eyes looking at all over you as you do. "Mm, you're pretty," he mumbles as he leans down to kiss your cheek, his minty breath caused by the freshly brushed teeth hits you as he reaches for your lips

"you already said that." you say on his mouth as his jeans fall at his feet. "Now get under the covers and sleep." 

He grabs you by the hips and groans in protest, pulling you closer to him. "Can't sleep yet.. I gotta make out with my girlfriend first." He murmurs but lets you push him towards the bed behind him until he's lying down.

"Maybe tomorrow Sti'" you join your boyfriend on the bed, covering the both of you with the duvet and he doesn't waste time to lay his head on your chest with a pleased groan.

"God, this is the life!" he almost moans on your boobs as he slips his hands under your nightdress to hug you closer. You giggle and hug him back, a hand on his hair to comb his brown and messy locks back to soothe him to sleep. 

"Mm.." he hums at the feeling of your hand on his head, his face nuzzles against your chest. "I love you." He slurs, his voice a bit groggy and tired as he lets his lids close, the warmth of your body and the alcohol in his system making his mind feel fuzzy.

"I know." 

"Hey! Say it back." he murmurs, his voice sounding a lot like a spoiled toddler, in his drunken state he didn't even notice you quoted Star Wars but oh well, too bad for him.

"I love you" you reply and kiss his forehead. 

"Mmh.." he hums happily and buries his head back in his favorite place. "I want to marry you" he confesses a few minutes later just when you thought he fell asleep.

"we'll have to wait a few more years for that."

"But- why?" he whines and looks up at you, a pouty look on his sleepily, drunken face. "I want to marry you now."

"Now, as in now? you in your batman themed boxers and me in a nightgown?" you ask jokingly as your thigh goes to rests over his hip.

A wide grin takes over his expression. "That would be perfect." he says and moves his hand from under your nightie to your thigh, his fingers gripping at the soft flesh.

"There was that song, what does it say? 'I like shiny thing but I'd marry you in paper rings'" he sings lazily with a slurred voice "was it Taylor Swift? oh I love Taylor Swift" he rambles and you giggle amused against his forehead. 

One of his hands begins to trace random patterns on your thigh. "Seriously... if I asked you, would you say yes?" he asks suddenly and looks up at you, his puppy dog ​​eyes almost pleading.

You open your mouth to answer but he beats you to it. 

"Wait- no." he interrupts and hides his face again. "Don't tell me yet, I want it to be a surprise." 

"okay" you sigh and pat his back... like you would actually answer him in these conditions. 

"Good" he mutters, his lids feeling heavy as he lets himself succumb to sleep. "Gotta make it a super-super surprise." He mumbles against your skin before he is out, his breathing soft and steady against your body, completely snuggled up to you.

You smile down at his asleep state, you actually really like drunk Stiles. 

Not a lot, just forever

Intertwined, sewn together

Like the rock bears the weather

Not a lot, just forever

"what about this?" he asks, throwing himself on the millionth bed of the store. 

"Stiles stop throwing yourself on every mattress you see" you scold him from the end of the bed with your arms crossed to your chest, you look like a mom with her toddler right now.

he gives you a cheeky smile and rolls onto his stomach, burying his face in the comforter and looking up at you.  "But why? I'm having fun," he replies, his voice slightly muffled.

"I can see that, but I'm tired of sleeping on an single inflatable mattress full of  holes, I would like to fall asleep on a bed and wake up at the same height I fell asleep in, not on the floor because it deflated during the night and I would love to have it by the end of the week."

Your boyfriend rolls onto his back, propping himself up with his elbows and looking up at you with offended eyes. "what's wrong with my camping mattress?" 

"you really want me to start?" you ask raising your eyebrows as to challenge him.

He looks at you up and down while pondering the answer. "no... not really, you're probably right anyway."

you nod in a 'thought so' manner and walk by his side to sit next to him on the exposed mattress under his amused eyes. 

"Can I just say that if you had listened to me two weeks ago now we would be sleeping in the bed that was in my room in Beacon Hills?"

"It was too small to sleep for two people but too much of a hassle to move from beacon Hills to here! it's easier to buy a bigger one here" 

"It wasn't too small for two people, we slept there just fine" he protests, reaching out to pinch your thigh.

"maybe you slept well because if I didn't let you stay in the middle you'd have a crisis! but I didn't have room to move and I always found myself sleeping on top of you." you reply while pointing an accusatory finger on his chest.

he rolls his eyes dramatically as you speak, letting out a quiet huff.  "that's not true!" he chuckles, wrapping his hand around your finger and giving it a light kiss before dropping it. "I seem to remember you falling asleep on top of me, more than the other way around." 

you roll your eyes "I assure you that if I had had the space to move I would not have slept on you, you'll see it when we'll have a bed big enough to move."

he gives you a smirk, tilting his head back to smirk up at you. "oh yeah? and what if I want you to fall asleep on top of me?" he asks with a grin while sitting up.

"aw, you'll get over it" you peck his pout.

"Oh, I doubt it, I can be very clingy."

"I know that... so what do you think about this?" you bounce on the bed a few times to feel the softness under you.

He props himself up in his elbows, looking down at the bed as you jump on it. 

"I don't know... it's not soft enough"

you nod "I agree"

his gaze turns to a bed a couple of feet away.  "what about that one?" he asks, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the bed.

You stand up "let's try it, come on baby."

when two days later the bed you two have chosen is finally built in your house (in five hours because you and Stiles are not exactly born to build things) you're more than exited to finally throw away that damn mattress and sleep at least a cm away from your boyfriend. 

Stiles flops back onto the bed, a sigh escaping his lips as he lets his body sink into the sheets and the comforter.  "God, this is paradise." he murmurs, his eyes closed and a content smile on his lips. "Look!" he says and proceeds to roll from one corner of the bed to the other. "You can roll over 4 times and a half!"

You giggle as you put on his shirt to sleep in, you only hope the bed is not gonna give up overnight, considering the fact that you and Stiles found three screws left out after finishing assembling it. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," he replies and pats the bed beside him. "come here." You comply and he immediately wraps his arms around waist when you slide beneath the covers next to him, tugging gently to drag you on top of him. "Mmm, much better" he murmurs and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"It is" you mumble "well, goodnight Sti'" you mutter before detaching from him to move on your side of the bed.

"wait wha- where are you going?" he asks with a slight frown as he sits on his elbows.

You turn your head to look at him "to sleep...?"

Stiles lets out a quiet sigh and rolls his eyes. "Be for real and get back here." he murmurs, reaching a hand out to tug on your wrist.

"no, no I have to show you I can sleep on my side if I have enough space."

Your boyfriend sighs disappointed before a smile appears on his face. "You know what? do as you wish" he says before kissing your cheek and laying down on his back again, you want to slap that stupid grin off his face. 

"thank you." you sass back and turn off the lamp on your bedside. 

You turn back to face him and curl on yourself, ignoring the snickers coming from your boyfriend and try to fall asleep... only to soon find out that the task is harder than expected. You move to lay on your back. Then on your side again. Then on your other side, but still nothing. 

Stiles' breath is becoming slower and deeper as the minutes pass and you envy him as he moves on his side towards you, deep asleep only 15 minutes after your conversation. 

How can he fall asleep so fast? 

As if to answer your question, from his mouth escapes a pair of soft snores and you huff annoyed, that's it, you're too tired to prove him right. 

You kneel next to him and push his right shoulder enough to make him fall on his back gently, he grunts in his sleep with a frown and you wait a few seconds until his expression relaxes again to continue with your plan. You take his left arm and stretch it out horizontally to carefully lay your head on his shoulder and to slot your body on his side, one of your legs finds its place between his as usual and your arm hugs his waist to you. 

You sigh in contempt as you feel his warmth under you and his scent under your nose... finally, a few minutes later, your eyes close sleepily and you shift even closer to him with a satisfied 'mh'. You don't pay attention when his arms move to wrap around you...

"I knew it."

"shut up." 

Through your eyes I see

A smile you bring to me

To your joy, I tether

When Stiles started to work at FBI everyone told him it was going to be hard, especially the first few years: with all the creepy criminal cases, the never ending paperwork, the unpaid overtime he does without realizing it because he is too immersed in the cases he was assigned and so on... He loves his job, of course. But he soon realized that his favorite part of the day is not when he's working... it's when his shift has ended and he opens the door of your shared apartment where you're probably in already waiting for him.

"Babe I'm ho- oh, you're here...?" he says with a confused frown, placing his backpack down and simultaneously loosing the tie on his neck. 

"Hi baby" you kiss his lips and move his hands away to untie it yourself, more to keep your nervous hands occupied than to actually help him "how was your day?" you ask and when he tries to move into the house you block his way again.

"it was good... and yours?" he asks and you nod with pursued lips, your eyes avoids his and focus on his neck to unbutton the shirt "mhmh, good". 

Stiles narrows his eyes at you suspiciously. "What did you do?" He asks you with a small smirk, letting you unbutton his shirt but still trying to go a few steps more into the house.

You scoff "why are you assuming I did something?" you ask.

He scoffs right back at you in return but still gives you a small smirk, his hands rest on your hips to squeeze them "because you're literally stopping me from coming in, clearly nervous and suspiciously fidgeting with my shirt to avoid my eyes" he lists, his hands sliding a little farther down to slip in the pockets of your jeans.

"you're a really great detective, aren't you?" you ask trying to change the subject. 

Stiles chuckles and leans closer to you to get a good look at your flustered face "you're dodging the question and I still want an answer"

You sigh and throw your arms around his neck to hug him "Stiles, promise you won't get mad" you beg him.

"Should I be worried?" he asks and before he can have the chance to hug you back you break the hug. 

"No, no I mean- its not something bad, its cute... yeah its cute" you smile encouragingly, maybe more at yourself than at him. 

"ok, now I'm confused" he sighs and lets go of you.

"maybe I should just show you" you grab his hand and guide him to the living room. He scans the room to see if there's anything different but it doesn't seem to be anything wrong at first glance. 

You let go of his hand to walk behind the back of the couch and lean down "I don't see anyth-" he hears a loud meow "-oh..." he says when you raise again: in your arms comfortably lays a small white kitten with bright blue eyes.

"I know we just moved in and that we said we're not ready for a pet... but she was in the streets alone and I looked for her mom everywhere! she was cold and starving and... and I know you're more of a dog person but isn't she the cutest angel you've ever seen?" you caress her small head as you walk back towards him. "-I know I should've talked to you about it earlier but my heart couldn't let her there" you look down at the kitten. 

He sighs and meets you halfway "baby... we just moved in..." you nod ands whisper a small 'I know', you can feel tears prickling in your eyes. 

"And taking care of a cat is expensive..." you nod again, already giving up the idea of keeping her and call a friend you know would love to have her. Both his hands rub the face of the kitten and she immediately starts to purr "so how did you name her?" he asks and your face light up immediately, you look at him with big, wide eyes.

"really?! can we keep her?!" you ask with a higher pitch voice than normal.

"of course we ca-" your lips smash against his lips repeatedly and he smiles while trying to reciprocate them. 

"what- did I do- to deserve you?" you ask between the kisses and he hums in content at the love you're giving him. 

He shakes his head and gives you one last gentle kiss on your lips before moving back a little to look down at the bundle of fur you hold in your arms "what's her name?" he asks.

"Marie" you say proudly while giving her to him.

He raises an eyebrow at you, looking at you with a soft, but teasing smile "wasn't that one of the names for our future baby?" he asks and slowly starts to walk backwards towards the couch, Marie purring all the while in his arms.

"It is! and... her mom is Duchess" he looks back at you, the smile on his face turns into a frown. 

"Excuse me, what?" You grimace at his expression and run into the bedroom to come out of it seconds later with a sheepish smile on your face and another white, bigger cat in your arms. "Oh baby... no" he says throwing his head back against the cushions, Marie climbs unbothered on his chest. He groans and looks up at you, a pout on his face and a very clearly annoyed expression "two? really?!" he asks but still caress the white fur of Marie, his eyes never leaving her mom's same fur. 

"they're a family! we cannot separate them, and she will take care of her own baby, so technically we'll take care of Duchess and she'll take care of Marie!" you sit next to him "and the vet said they're both as healthy as they can be, just sightly starved, he said they were probably abandoned not too long ago" you explain while Duchess sniffs her baby in your boyfriends arms.

"are you seriously trying to guilt-tripping me into keeping them?!" he asks and you bite your lips guiltily and an hopeful expression on your face.

"is it working?" Duchess walks out of your arms and towards your boyfriend's lap.

He sighs again "yeah, yeah it is" he answers making you smile lovingly at him, how could you be so lucky. Your boyfriend shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile betrays him right away "did you really call them after the Aristocats? wait- were you planning on calling our future daughter after Marie from the Aristocats?" 

"well, they're both, girls, white and cute, how could I not?" you answer and decide to ignore his second question, what's wrong with naming your kid after a cat anyway?

"well, I guess it checks out" he says, his hands are still caressing Marie and Duchess but his eyes are not leaving yours "you're lucky I love you, you know?"

"I know, and I love you too" you say kissing his cheek "soooo?" you ask anxiously.

Your boyfriend looks back at the two cats on his lap. "fuck... okay, we'll keep them" he says and in response you throw your arms around his neck to pepper his cheek with sweet kisses. He basks into your kisses just as pleased as before, the cats making themselves comfortable on his legs "but we're not getting anymore, understood?" 

"ooor we could look for-"

"absolutely not." he says firmly.

"but you didn't even let me finish!" you protest.

He light scolds you with his eyes "is your plan to get two more kittens, one orange and one black, to call them Toulouse and Berlioz so you can make the whole Aristocats family?" he asks.

You open your mouth in shock, he knows you too well. "see? you're wrong, that's not what I was going to say at all." you lie.

He gives you a knowing smirk and raises his eyebrows at you "oh yeah? And what were you going to say, then?" he asks with raised eyebrows and a fake surprised tone in his voice.

"...I hate you" you huff while sitting down next to him, Stiles opens his arm when he sees you move and you lay your head on his shoulder, his arm rests around your shoulders and you hug his waist.

He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. "What? You just told me you love me".

"I didn't know the real you a minute ago." you sigh.

"yeah right... I love you too, baby" he says as he rubs your back under your shirt in the way he knows you love "but if I see another cat in this house..." he threatens and you raise your head to look at him.

"what will you do?" you taunt him.

Stiles smiles like he already won "I'll kick you out." 

You gasp in fake shock "you would never!" 

"yeah? try me."

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you enjoyed, recommendations, suggestions and requests are always welcome and open! <3

Do not copy or repost.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Weird question but what sort of smells/ perfumes to you think the tulpar crew uses? It’s really bizarre I’m aware but it’s popped into my brain and now I can’t stop thinking about it.

Also I’ve been lurking on your blog for a while (late October I’m an og 💪) and I’m behind a few asks 😇. Wondering if you do emoji anons? If so can I be your 🐁 anon?

yes ofc you can be 🐁 anon!!<33

Curly— vibrant, fresh, clean.

Curly would smell like a warm hug, I know that doesn't make any sense but he would probably smell like sweat from always working with hints of herbal skincare from whatever soaps and shampoos he might use while showering, with a hint of citrusy notes because he just gives off those vibes, he would also smell like fresh laundry because his uniform of always tidy and neat.

if we stick to the idea of him being a well paid man then I'd assume he's into those classy and exxy💸 perfumes like dior sauvage, and Jean Paul Gaultier. Something which isn't overpowering yet subtle and pleasantly noticeable.

Jimmy— harsh, cheap, unrefined.

Now let's be true to ourselves,i could've damn well just said he dowses a can of axe spray to make up for his lack of showers. But we know that he does in fact enjoy showering and taking care of his hygiene, but the guy who says that 'hobbies are for people with money' i don't think he'd care too much about what he smells like, nor would he be spending money unnecessarily on expensive perfumes.

Jimmy smells of sweat, cigarettes with a hint of whatever cheap perfume he uses, with slight notes of a sour undertone, he's the kinda guy to keep 13-1 shampoos on the deck, so his hair would probably smell like that. He doesn't smell like shit, just very generic. If we talk about fragrances, then if curly offers to buy him stuff, he'd probably go for JPG—Le Male, which has a very overpowering scent, since he wouldn't probably be very good at buying perfumes and would just ask curly what he uses and pick one.

Anya— feminine, floral, gentle.

Anya would smell very clean, her hair would smell of the floral shampoo which she uses, she'll probably have sandalwood tones to her, misty, woody, light scents which don't draw too much attention but are subtle and gentle. Since she enjoys fast food, on a casual day she might smell like burgers and fries, but that's what it means to be human.

I don't think she'd be too keen on spending too much money on scents, but I do believe she picks out the ones which actually smell good. Think floral, fruity, vanilla. Peach or pear, those kind of undertones. I'd say she uses that one Versace perfume she bought 7 years ago in a yolo moment which she uses preciously, or affordable floral perfumes which are actually very pleasant and subtle and not brash.

Swansea— Earthy, Woody, Refined.

Aside from being a sneakerhead, I'll assume Swansea likes taking care of his hygiene as well, which would include what he smells like. On his own Swansea would smell like sweat, but with mechanical undertones like engine oil or metal. He's have sour and warm notes as well, he buys branded belts and would smell like leather.

He'd probably have his wife choose his perfumes for him for what she thinks suits him the best, probably like Tom Ford, or Chanel Coromandel.

Daisuke— Fresh, Playful, Tropical.

Daisuke is a youngster and he knows where the heats at, he most likely keeps up with trends and what's the latest move, but he obviously wouldn't smell like the freaking Italian mafia or a rich grandpa from the suburbs.

On his own Daisuke smells citrusy, hints of coconut and fresh mints. ( He secretly smokes and chews bubblegum to cover up the smell ) he'd smell like fresh soap and shampoo because he'd definitely be up in the taking care of his looks and hygiene game to impress the ladies.

He doesn't have problems buying expensive perfumes like Tom ford, sauvage, Versace, but tropical events would suit him the most like Creed Royal, Hermes or Tommy Bahama

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS: PT2

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam, a bit of sexual tension that is not yet resolved (pls be patient with me)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - Posing as Sam Winchester's girlfriend at a charity ball for a hunting case isn't so bad, that is until you have to do actual work. You might kill Dean when you get out of here, and hopefully get your hands on your fake boyfriend.

W.C. 2k words

(Original) Ask anon: A: Hello hello! I'm back again; I'm going to change my request style a bit, how about a female reader with thick thighs? Make her with Sam please

Playlist: ♫ Blue Jeans - Lana Del Rey, Body - Megan Thee Stallion, She's My Collar - Gorillaz

A.N. part 2 finally ! was not expecting winter break to be so busy...more to come so so soon my loves. Also, so sorry to make this into 3 parts I swear im not trying to torture yall - xx claire

Taglist: @callsign-ember @kaiserpoo @lovelymax10

Inside the estate your once flushed face grew even warmer — this time from the heaters, not Sam’s undeniably sexy voice. Past the elegant entrance and wide, old doors was a large ballroom type area with an intricate ceiling that you had to crane your neck up to look at. The thick banners hanging around the room were a deep blue, showing images of marine animals in a chilling climate, most looking disheartened or sad. In swirling letters on the top of each banner read: “Marine Life Fundraiser: 2025” 

“How much you wanna bet they don’t even know half of the animals they’re donating to?” Sam piped up.

“Not a lot. These events are more about having a nice evening in a way too expensive outfit, showing off your very rich, sexy boyfriend/husband or very pretty, young girlfriend/wife, and doing that rich person laugh.”

“I don’t know if we’re being very convincing then.”

“What do you—

Sam snaked his right arm around your waist, the soft velvety fabric of your dress ruffling under his sleek suit. He gripped your firmly but not tightly, his hand gently digging into your soft flesh through your thin dress. He smiled…no, smirked (you weren’t sure) down at you.

“That better, pretty young girlfriend?” Your eyes dilated in seconds and you fought to keep your eyes off of his. 

“Y-yea...” You wanted to groan at how small and bashful your voice sounded, you never stuttered. 

“Can you guys feel up each other after we finish this?” Dean’s husky voice sounded in both of your ears a bit muffled but it startled both of you, making you feel almost compromised. Sam loosened his grip on you only slightly, letting out a sigh from his throat that went over your neck and left an intense tingling feeling.

“You wanted us to play the part,” You muttered to Dean after you flipped on your ear piece, a gentle hand on Sam’s chest as you made your way to the bar. 

“yn, can you put on something over your tight ass dress so Sam can frickin focus?” Your mouth dropped open, scoffing and tilting your head to the side in fake offense. 

“Can you stop looking at me and do your job?”

“I am, but it's hard when you two keep eye fucking eachother. Get your drinks, socialize, and distract the remaining family grill ‘em if you can. And please, listen to your ear piece.” Before you can reply, your eyes land on Dean in the crowds of suits and dresses, who is looking at you unamused. You smile, and he rolls his eyes playfully. You knew he wasn’t actually mad, but you also knew you did need to focus. You ordered a drink, Sam looming very close to your back, ordering after you. He slides the bartender his card, taking your drinks and leading you to the back of the room.

“So…you seen them?” You shook your head, knowing he was referring to the family. You scanned the room pointedly, tuning out the music, chatter, and all the bright lights and costly chandeliers in the room, finally spotting the youngest member of the family, Victor Brady, sitting with his mother. His mother had gone ‘missing’ but he never had. Based on your research, you knew the Bradys were rich of course, but you weren't sure the motives of the group of shapeshifters yet. Why were members of the family disappearing then coming back as if nothing happened? Had they really kidnapped some of them? Were the mother and son in front of you really them? How many of them were there?

“Hey, don’t worry,” Sam muttered in your hair, seeming to sense how wired-in to the family your mind was, “Let’s go talk to them. Remember, I am,” he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, flashing the fake ID Dean had handed him earlier, “Ron Fogerty, son of a wealthy businessman from Canada. And you…” he pointed a finger at your face, then moved it to direct at your purse where your fake ID resided. You pulled it out. 

“Elaina…Clifford? Really? You guys are still using the rock names?” Sam gave you a pointed look, as if saying, it wasn't my idea with his face. 

“No idea how you both don’t get in trouble more often. Anyway, I’m girlfriend, correct? We’re here to support the Brady’s Fundraiser and get to know their youngest.” 

“Bingo. Let’s go before Dean gets on our asses again.” 

Strolling arm in arm to the Brady’s table with fake smiles, you and Sam greeted his mother first, then him

In the Impala, you had told the Winchesters about recent photos of them that had been published in the local paper. The family was known for being wealthy but not unkind; and was regarded highly among those in the city. But, in the photos from the week before, the youngest, Brady, was seen holding a number of odd documents leaving the bank, then making his way in the opposite direction of his family estate. Of course, the photos did not show the small printed lines of whatever secrets he was holding…but his angry, crude expressions in the photos did not match those of the graceful man sitting in front of you.

“This is Elaina, my girlfriend. She’s very interested in wildlife and insisted she spoke to those running the fundraiser.” Sam smiled, his voice calm and collected. You nodded, and Mrs. Brady tapped Sam’s shoulder, asking him something you couldn't make out because her son’s voice was louder, closer to your ears. 

“My name is Victor. Please, sit. It is nice to meet others with a passion for doing good with what they were blessed with.” You turned to see Sam was speaking civilly with Mrs. Brady, seated across from her, and you decided to sit as well. 

“Yes, I…also must say I find this place beautiful. Your family has lived here a while, I hear.”

Victor’s face dropped, his mouth forming a thin line. “We have. But you shouldn't believe everything you hear.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, trying desperately to play the part of a kind, naive woman, when all you really wanted was for him to tell you something, anything that might get you closer to what was going on. 

“Of course not, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He sighs as you trail off, and that's when you notice the dark crescents of purple under his eyes.

“No, it’s my fault. People have been saying some things, lately, about us, about my father particularly. I do not appreciate men who spread false information.”

“And I do not either, I am actually a journalist back home, Victor. I know the importance of telling a factual story.” That made him relax.

“And I am glad to hear it. My parents don’t understand that whatever they’re doing is making me look like a fool as well.” You furrowed your brows. Whatever they’re doing?

“I’m sorry. It's hard to separate from your parents' identity, especially if they're as well known as yours.” 

“Exactly. I love them, and I love these events, truly, but just because I’m young doesn't mean I won't understand all the things they keep from me.”

“I know wha–

Your words stop stuck in your throat as you feel cold liquid streamed over your legs, your mouth dropping open as the wine made you get goosebumps. You tilted your head up slowly to see…Dean; empty wine glass in his hand, the alcohol now all over your velvet dress. You look up at him with daggers in your eyes, and he already knew he was going to get it later. But the look he gives you after he apologizes and offers you some napkins suddenly makes you aware of his plan.

“So sorry again, miss, here, I’ll take you to wherever the bathroom is and…” Sam is up now, moving closer to you before you widen your eyes at him, and he tilts his head slightly in confusion before Victor speaks up.

“That won't be necessary, I will show her.” You thank him and quickly mutter a, “I’ll be right back, honey,” to Sam, who nods, finally getting what Dean was thinking. You walk away, you hear a few security guards telling Dean rather loudly that he is cut off from the bar. 

You follow Victor, hearing his expensive shoes clacking on the dark wood stairs past a number of guards, ascending until you reach a long, grand hall. He walks to the second door on the right, and you understand that this is his parents bathroom. You can feel your heart beating at a speed you didn't think possible, thanking God that you still had your purse, and the special items inside you needed for a case like this. Victor offered you a few different stain removers, finally offering you a blow dryer for the bottom half of your dress where Dean had probably spilled a hundred dollars worth of wine on you. 

“Excuse me, I’m just going to use the restroom.” Victor points to the very far corner where you see a door at the end, which is around the corner from where you stand. Your plan tumbles around your brain, keeping the blow dryer on the loudest setting as you turn on your ear piece. 

“Alright, I’ll be here,” You say to Victor with a polite smile. He nods, turning the corner as you smirk, your heels already off, hand reaching into your bag as you go through the connecting door to his parents room. It had been a fucking hassle to get the layout of this stupid estate, but if this was the main building, that meant you were in the bathroom next to the master bedroom. Bingo. 

“I’m in the bedroom,” you whisper, nearly out of breath with how fast your heart is beating.

You held your device up to your eye, sending a silent thanks to Bobby for helping you with it. You were booksmart, not handy. You weren’t a great physical hunter and didn’t have a knack for making things; but Bobby did. A couple years ago when you had both worked on a case with Shapeshifters, you’d kept some of the…sheddings, is what you agreed to call it, of two of them when they transformed. The ooze smelled awful and almost glowed once you brought it home. You’d expressed how helpful it would be to detect such ooze, almost like night vision goggles, for hunting shapeshifters. He’d agreed, and after a dozen phone calls and hours searching through his piles of junk and scrap from various cars, created a shedding detecting circle that looked like a single binocular eye.

“The parents? Holy shit, I’m a genius,” Dean’s muffled voice came in your ear.

“You got lucky. And I’m expecting a form of apology when this is over.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have some ideas. Sure you’d rather get my typa’ apology from Sammy, though.”

“You know I can hear all of this, right?” Sam said, his voice low and quiet in your ear.

“Can you both shut up so I can focus with the two minutes I have up here?”

You quickly spotted a heap of shedding glowing in the far right corner of the room, swiftly going over to see a pile of the ooze, skin, blood, and teeth. You scrunch your face at the smell, but put your left eye through the detector again. It took you a lot longer than you wanted it to, but you found a small trace of it on a cabinet near their bed. Inside, documents with faint traces of the shedding were in your hand in minutes.

“I got something, I’m coming back down,” you mutter, folding the pieces of paper as much as you could, shoving them not so gracefully in your purse when you heard the bathroom door open. 

“Sorry! Wrong way out. I think I’ve nearly had as many drinks as the wine spilling guy.” You giggled, smiling at Victor like he was God’s gift to Earth, hoping he’d buy it. And he did. He smiled politely, washing his hands before leading you out of the bathroom commenting on how, “The stain remover worked quickly, it almost looks as good as new.”

[tojipie]

Hello my love! I know you’ve been gone for a while but I wanted to stop by and ask if you have any realistic but unhinged toji headcannons? Hopefully this gets you into the spirit of writing again, I don’t mean to overstep. We miss you❤️.

hello sweet anon :( i’ve admittedly been struggling with my mental health a whole ton which is why i’ve been gone but this ask really did help me get back into the groove of writing just a bit <3 thank u for stopping by ! mwah

this is just me saying shit to say it pls don't take this srsly !

content: fluff, mentions of alc, smoking, suggestive talk but not smut, a little angst

was a victim of the xandemic in his late 20s so one of his pupils is a little bigger than the other

initially hated ambulances because of the absurd cost but grew to hate them even more because the attention makes him uncomfortable. oh you want to take his blood pressure? ew, don’t touch him. that’s weird. would rather patch himself up than sit under a gaggle of fluorescent lights for 6 hours in an ER waiting room.

shiu has been a co-signer on every apartment he’s ever rented because his credit score is in the single digits.

picked up vaping on accident after the corner store ran out of cigs when he needed them most. still prefers marlboros because he likes that searing feeling in the back of his throat. throws the cartons out his car window like a freak.

his drivers license is crumpled. like physically crumpled like paper. he has no idea how it happened but when he needs to use it at the liquor store he definitely gets stares.

will forever be devoted to his late wife. mentally at least. she’s the love of his life but in his mind sex with other women isn’t really cheating right? like he uses a condom sometimes so it’s fine probably? he's not gonna stay celibate for the rest of his life. the topic keeps him up at night.

has a scar from an appendectomy right above his v line that women go crazy for. he’s not entirely sure what they like about it but he’s been touched there so many times that it’s morphed into an erogenous zone.

slut for fast food. would rather get a vanilla shake and dip his fries in it till his stomach hurts than spend time at a sit-down restaurant. eats like shit but still maintains his physique, infuriatingly enough.

hates being in public more than you’d think. it’s a deeply uncomfortable feeling that stems from the risk that being discovered poses during jobs. he prefers to have groceries ordered, meals delivered, and shiu take his car down to the shop if needed. if hes out and about he’s either at the casino tables or the liquor store.

is down for whatever if the price is right. like truly. older women love what he has going on which works well in his favor because it puts a roof over his head. absolutely no shame once money is involved.

has tried to get help for his gambling addiction a few brief times. got close once and then decided to hit the blackjack tables to celebrate his progress. he jokes about how things ended up from time to time but deep down he knows it’s pretty serious.

shops at the goodwill bins mostly. made an effort to stop stealing as much because of how dirt cheap the thrift is but couldn't stick to it. likes to go down the jeans isle and look for change in the pockets. his biggest score was a 5 dollar bill that had been through the washer so many times it was practically blank.

there's a little voice in the back of his head telling him to have more kids and he's not opposed to listening.

[joelscruff]

ummm hi this is so random i just needed to tell someone about this cause no one i know likes pedro

so i was watching s1 narcos and javi was wearing this fkn white half sleeved shirt and they knew what they were fucking doing and i’m dying he’s so fkn hot what do i do!!, if i was interning for him and he walked in the room wearing that oh my fkn god i would be dead sorry for this rant

soaked (javier peña x f!reader) 18+

so as usual what was meant to be a little drabble became a full-fledged fic. what is wrong with me????? this outfit is truly insane though and i couldn't stop thinking about it getting wet 👀 i hope you enjoy xo (and thank you anon for the inspo and for telling me what episode this lovely shirt was in!) summary: it's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: smut, blowjobs, deepthroating, protected p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink (javi has a big dick), biting, probably bad spanish (blame google) word count: 6k (this was supposed to be a drabble!!!!!!! wtf!!!!!!!!) ao3

You're pretty sure you're going to quit your job.

You've been an intern at the DEA for about a month now, in charge of extremely mundane things like pouring coffee and organizing paperwork. No one really talks to you other than Steve Murphy, one of the agents you're assigned to, and even then he's too busy to really give you much attention. It's lonely and boring, and part of you thinks you might have quit already, if it wasn't for...

"Morning, asshole," Javier Peña enters the office with long strides, tossing a stack of papers toward your (very tiny) desk. You can't help but stare at him, swallowing nervously as you assess the plain white shirt he's wearing, loosely tucked into his tight jeans and accentuating his strong, tan arms. How does he always look so good? His hair is messy, brown curls tangled and sticking up in places like he's just rolled out of bed, and he probably has. The faint scent of whisky that follows him tells you all you need to know about how he spent his evening.

You're worried for only half a second that he's talking to you, but you realize his gaze is directed toward Steve, who simply shrugs.

"You didn't have to come," he replies with a laugh, "You coulda said no."

"To your fucking wife? Please." Javier sits down in his chair with force, leaning back to immediately put his long legs up on his desk and reach for a cigarette from his pocket, "She was excited about it, you dick."

Steve just laughs again, turning back to his work, "You did the right thing, man. I don't know what else to say."

You wish you understood the story, knew what they were playfully ribbing each other about, but for the past month you've been on the outside of their relationship. Steve gives you reassuring smiles and some small talk every now and then but it's not enough to feel like you actually belong there, not to mention that Javier has only spoken to you once. Even now, as you rise from your chair to pour some fresh coffee into his mug, he doesn't even look at you.

"You owe me," he says to Steve, lighting up his cig, "Pendejo."

As you pour his coffee you can't help but notice the way the collar of his shirt rides low enough for you to see his collarbones, see the light dusting of hair smattered across his dark skin. There's a few droplets of sweat here and there, and you resist the urge to lean forward and press your tongue to each one.

"I'll have some more too, sweetheart," Steve says behind you, and your thoughts scatter as you pull back from Javier's mug to go re-fill Steve's. You're aware of the way Steve's eyes trail to your breasts, hidden only by a thin layer of blue fabric; it makes you self conscious and also a bit confused. Steve has never looked at you that way before, "That's a nice blouse," he says to you with a smile, eyes going back up to your face, "My wife has one similar to that."

"Thank you," you say quietly, finishing filling up his mug and wanting to go back over to your desk as soon as possible; you don't like the idea of a married man ogling you.

"Isn't this a nice blouse, Javi?" Steve continues, and you freeze.

What is Steve doing? Is he trying to get you insulted? You turn slightly to look at Javier, coffee pot trembling slightly in your hand when you see that he's got an irritated expression painting his face, mouth downturned in a stern frown.

"Thin ice, Steve," Javier replies and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes set firmly on Steve's face, not even bothering to even look at the blouse in question.

"What? It's nice," Steve seems to be feigning innocence, yet again another inside joke you're not apart of. Except this time it's at your expense and you're not sure how that makes you feel. Suddenly Steve reaches up and takes a ruffle of your blouse near your arm between his fingers, "Really soft, too."

"Steve," Javier repeats, eyes dark, "Thin. Ice."

You look from Javier to Steve and back to Javier, absolutely bewildered. It's like things are being said but you can't hear them, have no idea what kind of secret language they're speaking. You pull away from Steve a bit, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna go put this back," you say quietly, referring to the coffee pot.

"Of course, sweetheart, I won't keep you," Steve gives you a wink and you know something is off. From what you've gathered so far from your time here, Steve loves his wife, has a picture of her on his desk right in front of him that you always catch him looking at. You've only been here a month but you swear he's mentioned her every single day, if not to you then to Javier, if not to Javier then to another intern or agent. So why is he suddenly being flirtatious with you?

You leave the room and return the coffee pot, staring at the aged tiles on the wall in front of you and feeling a lump form in your throat. You really do hate it here, you don't know why you've stayed as long as you have.

Yes you do, you idiot.

--

It's raining outside by the time your work day ends and you feel yourself deflate as you walk out the front doors of the DEA; you'd been hoping for the hot weather to continue so you could go for a run and distract yourself from this weird and uncomfortable day, decide whether or not you're going to just quit already. It's like the heavy rainfall is mocking you.

You feel much too depressed to walk home so you go back inside the building and make your way back to the office to call a taxi. Steve passes you in the hallway and slows down, puts his hand up to stop you.

"Hey, I'm sorry for this morning," he says, eyes kind and gentle, "That was inappropriate, I shouldn't have touched your blouse."

You're not sure what to say, giving him a small shrug, "It's, uh, okay. I was just..." you shake your head, "Yeah, never mind, it's okay."

"You're wondering why I did it." he states, frowning, and you almost laugh at his immediate assessment of the situation; deflecting a DEA agent? Not the smartest idea.

"Well, yeah," you shrug, "It was kinda weird. You're usually, um... very respectful so-"

He winces, "I know, I'm sorry. It was just me trying to get on Peña's nerves," he shuffles awkwardly in front of you, shifting the weight from his left leg to his right and back again, "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I owe him."

You look at him in total confusion, shaking your head, "I don't understand."

He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to word it," he bites his lip and then seems to resign himself to something, "Javier... he likes you."

You stare.

"My wife and I, we kind of wrangled him into having dinner with us last night. They were talking, she was askin' him about women, if he'd been on any dates, typical questions," he laughs at the memory, "He said no and she asked if he had his eye on anyone. He said no again, but I know this guy like the back of my hand, I can read him like a book. I knew that second no was a goddamn lie."

Your heart is pounding in your chest but your thoughts are muddled, unable to draw a clear conclusion from what Steve is telling you. You continue to just stand there wordlessly, listening.

"A few drinks later - well, more than a few - I asked him who he had his eye on. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get it out of him, he just smiled, took a drag of his cig..." Steve acts this out, bringing his cigarette-less fingers to his lips and pretending to take a puff, eyes heavy-lidded and bleary, "And said your name."

You can't believe what you're hearing, there's no way it's true, no way he's telling you about something that actually happened. Your heart continues to pound relentlessly, staring at Steve like he's speaking another language, a million wordless questions flying back and forth in your mind at top speed.

"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," he quotes, voice slurred and gravelly, "She's sunshine incarnate."

"But he doesn't even look at me!" you blurt out, eyes wide.

Steve drops his hand and laughs again, shaking his head, "Sweetheart, he looks at you all the time. You're just looking away when he does it."

This revelation hits you hard, makes your breath catch in your throat. Is this actually true? Or is this some sick inside joke they're playing to get you to finally put in your notice, one of their private little games that you're not a part of. On principle it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard; the man has spoken to you once, only once, and it was on your first day. He'd introduced himself, shook your hand, and that was that.

"What do you mean you're doing this because you owe him?" you ask, shaking the thoughts away, "Isn't this just humiliating him?"

Steve smiles again, slightly smug, "I see the way you look at him too, you know. I'm not blind," he looks at his watch then and makes a face, "Listen, I gotta go, but if you're heading back to the office, he's still there."

"But, Steve, I-"

"Trust me," he gives you one of his reassuring smiles, "He needs - scratch that - wants someone like you, someone... stable."

You don't think being on the verge of quitting a paid internship would be considered stable, but you understand what he means. You may have only been here a short time but Javier's reputation is widely known around the office, something you've found yourself sympathizing with instead of villainizing him like others do. You know his history with women is pretty bleak relationship wise.

Steve begins to walk away from you, leaving you standing there speechless, "You better hurry before he leaves," he calls. He picks up his pace but you're still able to hear him as he mutters, "and that's my good deed done," then saunters down the hall and disappears around the corner.

--

The office you share with Javier and Steve is the only one still lit on your floor, meaning everyone else has already gone home. You know that Javier likes to stay late sometimes, work on the case alone and look at things from different angles in solitude. You feel nervous as you approach the door, not wanting to bother him. But regardless of whether what Steve said is true, you still need to call a taxi.

You turn the knob and walk inside, trying to be as quiet and slow as possible. Your efforts are pointless though, as Javier looks up from his work and sees you immediately, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"It's raining," you say softly, awkwardly, "I need to call a cab."

"Right," he nods to you and then returns to his work without an afterthought, writing something down on a piece of paper.

You stand there for a few moments just looking at him, watching his face, trying to find any indication of affection behind those focused eyes, his serious brow. He looks the same as always, lost in thought, scribbling away, handsome as he does it. The white shirt certainly isn't helping; he's unbuttoned it more now, his chest exposed and sunglasses hanging from a button near his pocket. He's so effortlessly gorgeous, it makes you ache.

He must sense you still standing there, not making any move to walk to your desk and pick up the phone. He looks up at you again, brow furrowed, "Do you need something?"

You shake your head quickly, cheeks burning, "N-no, sorry," you shuffle over to your desk and sit down in your chair, doing everything you can to avoid looking over at him again. You think about what Steve said, how Javier is always looking at you but only when you're not aware. You wonder if he's doing it right now.

You reach for the phone, unable to stop your hands from shaking slightly. You're almost sure you feel his gaze on you now, boring into you and watching every move you make, eyes deep and brown and calculating, always calculating. Assessing. What does he make of you? If what Steve said is true, what does he see when he looks at you?

Sunshine incarnate.

You can't help but smile at the words, dialing the number for the taxi slowly as your brain repeats them over and over. Had he really said that about you? And meant it? Your thoughts are so jumbled that you accidentally press the wrong button and have to start over, hanging up the phone quickly before picking it up again.

Just as you go to press the first number, a hand comes down and stops you, brushing against your fingers in a tender and gentle way. You freeze, staring at the hand, knowing it's his, knowing that if he wasn't looking at you before, he certainly is now.

"Why don't I just give you a ride, cariño?" he asks quietly, voice slightly rough around the edges, "I'm heading home now anyway."

You will yourself to look up, eyes capturing his immediately and getting lost in their depths, big and brown and soft and searching. Your lips part but no words come out. You force yourself to give him a nod, repressing the urge to jump up and kiss his mouth, envelop him, hold him close and look even deeper into those soulful eyes.

You stand shakily and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on your back as he follows behind you. The walk down to the main doors of the building is completely silent, save for the clicking of your heels against the linoleum and his heavy masculine breaths at your side. It's still raining once you get outside, and you can't help but make a face.

"Not a fan of the rain?" he asks you a bit loudly over the pelting of water against the concrete, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It's not my favorite," you admit, wincing, "Where are you parked?"

"You stay here where it's dry, I'll pull it up front."

You watch him dart out from under the eaves of the building, rain immediately soaking his white shirt without apology. You watch with wide eyes as his back becomes visible from the downpour, skin a pinkish brown beneath the suddenly translucent material. You catch sight of two dimples near his lower back before he disappears from eyesight.

You swallow, trying to pretend you don't feel yourself begin to throb within the confines of your underwear, a wetness pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with the rain.

Only a few moments later he's pulling up front, waving at you from behind the car window. You dash forward and feel the rain soak your hair, your skin, your blouse. There was nothing about rain in the forecast this morning so you hadn't thought to bring a jacket with you; you're now regretting that decision greatly.

The passenger side door is already unlocked and you slip inside gratefully, slamming it behind you and exhaling loudly. The rain continues to pelt the windows, the roof, a steady and repetitive sound as you look down at yourself to assess the damage. At least you chose a blue blouse and not a white one, although you can faintly see the shape of your nipples poking through the fabric. A bit self conscious, you cross your arms and huddle forward in the seat.

"Should heat up soon," Javier says beside you, quiet like he'd been in the office, "Seatbelt."

You glance over at him for only a second but regret it instantly, immediately noticing the way the rain has completely soaked his white shirt, exposing the taut and firm muscle beneath, his wide pecs, dark nipples, his flat stomach and belly button, the trail of hair that leads down to...

You grip the seatbelt in your hands and turn your attention to clicking it into place, feeling yourself throb even more. God, he's so fucking hot. You can't blame all the women he's slept with for wanting to get in his pants, he's a fucking Adonis. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away from the building, focusing on the small bursts of heat that are beginning to radiate from the vents in front of you. You rub your hands together, momentarily forgetting that he could probably see your breasts through your blouse if he looked over.

But that's just it...you never know when he's looking at you. And part of you wonders what would be so bad about him seeing you like this.

You drive together in silence for a few moments, an undeniable tension building and building the longer you both sit there without speaking. Every so often you can't help but let your eyes trail back over to his body, eyeing the way his wet shirt clings to his skin, beginning to slowly dry in small patches from the car heater. You can vaguely make out the shape of a scar on his abdomen and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace your finger along the length of it, ask him how he got it, kiss it better.

"I feel you watching me, querida," he murmurs, eyes on the road.

Your eyes widen and you sit back in your seat stiffly, "S-sorry."

In your peripheral vision you see him smile, thumbing the steering wheel, "You're always watching me, aren't you?"

You don't know what to say, swallowing tightly around the lump you feel building in your throat. Is he about to call you out? Tell you to stop?

"That's okay, I'm always watching you too," he says it quietly like it's a secret, taking a heavy breath as he continues, "But you know that now, don't you? Steve's a little shit."

You can't help but laugh, which makes him grin wider. He looks over at you and you meet his gaze, feeling shy when his eyes drop to your chest and back up again.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he murmurs, eyes back on the road, "I'll be real gentle, I promise."

You stare at him, slightly confused. It's only a moment later that it dawns on you: you never told him your address.

"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, voice shaking slightly in anticipation.

He gives you another side glance, smiling kindly at you, "I think you already know, cariño."

--

No more than twenty minutes later he has you laid out on his bed completely bare, his mouth pressed firmly against your wet core as you writhe and moan under his touch. His palms are pressed flush against your stomach, holding you to the mattress, never releasing you even when you start shaking uncontrollably from your orgasm. He just keeps going, sucking on your clit and fingering your throbbing hole, nose buried in the patch of hair on your mound.

"Javi, Javi, Javi," you repeat over and over again, thrashing in his sheets, fisting the duvet. He'd told you as soon as he had you in his bed that he didn't want you calling him Javier anymore, and you'd had absolutely no problem with amending your vocabulary.

He hums, giving your clit one last hard suck and making you almost scream with overstimulation, body heaving up off the mattress as he finally pulls away from your core and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.

"That's it, querida, feels so good, doesn't it?" he breathes, crawling back up and pressing kisses against your skin as you come down from the pleasure, heart pounding in your chest, "Your little pussy needed me so bad, didn't she?"

"Yes," you whimper, voice weak, unable to say anything else as he continues to kiss along your breasts, your neck, your cheeks. His mustache is soft and welcoming against your skin, tickling every inch of it in the best way possible as he worships you.

You can't believe you're even here, lying in his bed, lights dim as the rain continues to pelt the windows and drench the city while Javier drenches you. He's still wearing the white shirt, still damp and tucked into his jeans. You reach forward and pull at his belt, fingers trembling.

"Oh, cariño," he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth hungrily, "Want my cock now, do you? Thought that might have been too much for you."

You shake your head quickly, feeling tears sting in your eyes at the thought of him not giving you what you want, "Please," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please, Javi. I need it so bad."

"You do," he agrees, hands trailing upward to squeeze your breasts, thumbing your hard nipples, "You need to get fucked, knew it from the moment I met you. Knew it had to be me to do it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, voice breathless as he begins to undo his belt, "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because you're so pretty, hermosa, so pure," he tosses his belt to the ground and reaches for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your eyes fall to his bare chest, his stomach, so much clearer now than they'd been through the wet fabric. He's absolutely perfect, and you feel yourself salivate as you reach up to palm the soft skin of his belly, feeling the hair under your fingertips, tracing the scar you'd seen earlier. He grabs your hand gently, squeezes it, "I knew if I talked to you, you'd end up right here. In my bed."

"And that would be a bad thing?" you whisper, eyes searching his, "This is bad?"

He shakes his head quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, "No, querida, this isn't bad. This is what you need, I know that now," he unzips himself and your jaw goes slack when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear, his cock completely bare and on display beneath the denim. He pulls himself out, showing you how long and thick he is, cut and curved, leaking from the tip. Some of it drips onto your tummy and you both watch it dribble down your skin, dipping into your belly button, "You need it," he whispers, "Knew it when you started looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you breathe, still staring at his large cock, wondering how it'll possibly fit inside you without splitting you in half.

"Like the way you're looking at my cock right now," he says softly, shuffling forward a bit on the bed, "Now, sit up, okay? Give it a kiss."

You don't need telling twice, scrambling amongst the sheets and crouching forward to envelop the head of his cock inside your mouth, warm and sticky on your tongue. You close your eyes, feeling them almost roll back in your head as you suck gently and swallow down his precome, tickling the back of your throat.

"Gonna see how much you can take, okay?" he says quietly above you, and you feel his hands in your hair, stroking your scalp reassuringly, "You can stop if it's too much."

You slowly move forward to take a few more inches, eyes still closed, only opening again when you feel his hands grip your hair tighter. You look up then, eyes lidded and heavy, and he's looking down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, thumbing the base of your neck, "Just made to have my cock in there, huh?"

You nod slowly, breathing through your nose and pushing yourself further, wanting to take as much of him as you possibly can. You get about three quarters down and feel the tip prod the back of your throat. You still, inhaling deeply and feeling tears well in your eyes, silently begging yourself not to gag.

"Just a little more, querida," he whispers, stroking your hair, "You can do it, I know you can."

With his soothing encouragement you slowly take the rest of him, not stopping until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. You inhale again and your senses are overwhelmed by his masculine, sweaty, musky scent. It's heaven. You open your eyes and look up at him, tears welling over and spilling down your cheeks.

"Oh, baby," he says, biting back a moan, "That's so good, knew you could do it," he feels you trembling on his cock, throat closing around the head, and he carefully slides you off.

You start coughing immediately, drool running down your chin in long ropes. You'd feel embarrassed but he's smiling at you, leaning down to press kisses to your forehead.

"You did so good," he praises, wiping your chin with his thumb and kissing your lips tenderly, tasting himself on your tongue, "Took all of it so well, querida."

"I can do it again," you say quickly through another cough, voice rough, "Just gimme a second."

He smiles wider and shakes his head, "I know you can, but you don't need to, not tonight. Just wanted to see if you could take the whole thing in that pretty mouth," he thumbs your lips and you immediately capture it between them, sucking his thumb feverishly. He groans slightly, watching it disappear, "and now that I know you can... we need to see how well it fits inside that perfect little pussy, hm? Think it'll fit?"

You nod immediately, releasing his thumb with a pop, "I'll make it fit."

He groans again, getting off the bed and pulling his jeans down his legs, "That's what I like to hear, baby." He pulls open his bedside table and grabs a condom, tossing it over to you, "Now put that on my dick, cariño, gotta be safe."

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, ripping the condom open with your teeth and sliding it down his length. You feel his eyes on you now; you'd never been able to feel it before, had no idea he'd even been looking at you, and now it's like his gaze is burning your skin. You lean forward and press one more kiss to the head of his cock, smirking when it twitches.

"Come here, hermosa," he mutters, taking your hand and carefully pulling you off the bed. You both stand there naked in front of each other as he leans down to kiss you tenderly, hand trailing up to press flush against your back. He's so beyond everything you could have ever hoped for; you still can't believe this is actually happening, "Stay there for a second," he whispers.

You watch as he gets on the bed and sits at the top, back leaning against the headboard. His cock stands stiff and inviting beneath him as he splays his legs out and opens his arms.

"Sit on my cock, querida," he breathes, and without any hesitation you climb into his lap, legs shaking as you grip his shoulders and hover above him, "Nice and slow," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, "That's it."

The tip of his cock breaches your entrance and you keen at the sensation, still shaking slightly as you slowly ease yourself down on him. You're so wet, his length slipping inside easily at first, but once you get about halfway down your hips stutter and you whimper.

"You got it, baby," he breathes, thumbs splayed across your belly, "Not much more," he pushes inside a bit further and you cry out in ecstasy, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands move to your back, holding you tightly against him as he continues to fill you, not stopping until he bottoms out, "There," he murmurs, rubbing circles into the skin of your back, "That's all of it, cariño. Did so good, taking it so well for me."

You sit like that for a few moments, him whispering praises in your ear and rubbing your skin soothingly. He's so thick inside you, you've never felt so full. After a few more moments he carefully grips your hips and slowly begins to move you on his cock, up and down, watching your expression and reveling in the whines emitting from your throat.

"That's it," he says, brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your face, "That's what a real cock feels like, querida, and it's the only one you're gonna get from now on." Your face scrunches up in pleasure and you find yourself hiding in his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around him and starting to move your hips to match his pace.

"Javi," you whimper, feeling the head of his cock pushing against the deepest part of you every time you brace down, "So big inside me, Javi."

"I know, cariño," he murmurs, soothing you again with a gentle rub to your back, "Filling you up so good, huh?"

You hum and let yourself go, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone as you still on his cock and let him go back to working you up and down, murmuring in your ear about how good you feel, what a perfect girl you are, how you'll never fuck anyone else but him for the rest of your life. And you want to believe it's true.

"Work won't be the same anymore," you say against his skin, voice muffled.

"Christ, baby, you're thinking about work?" he taps on your neck and you pull back to look at him, shivering as he continues to fuck you relentlessly as he speaks to you, "Don't think about work right now, querida, not when I've got my cock buried inside you."

"I want you to start fucking me at work," you say suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure as he hits the deepest part of you again, "In secret, please."

He stills for a second, surprise appearing on his face before he smiles, starts fucking you again with even more fervor, grunting with very thrust.

"Of course I will, baby," he says, pressing his forehead against yours, gripping your hips tighter and fucking you fast and hard, so much so that you feel yourself writhe off the bed again, fingers clasping around nothing as you moan loudly, "I told you, ever since I met you I knew you needed this, needed my cock," he kisses you then, wet and hot, and you feel the tension in your belly start to build, "Gonna give it to you every chance I get from now on, I promise."

You whimper at his words, fucking yourself down on him as hard as you can and letting out cries of pure bliss as he begins to hit your favorite spot over and over, so impossibly deep inside you that you think maybe he will split you open. He rises off the bed with you a bit, holding you tight to him as he wildly bucks into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna come, hermosa," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and sticky against your skin, "Give me one more, get that pussy all wet for me," you let out an inhuman sound and feel yourself involuntarily bite into his shoulder, making him groan.

"I'm sorry," you moan, pulling back and seeing the crescent shaped mark in his flesh.

"For what?" he groans, and you feel his thumb start to prod your clit, rubbing it furiously, "Do it again, baby, mark me up, make me yours," you feel your orgasm overtake you at the words, fingernails digging into his back as you writhe and cry in his arms. Without hesitation you bite down on him again, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will most certainly be a mark there tomorrow.

He groans at the sensation, pulling you impossibly closer and stilling inside you as he pumps the condom full of his spend, twitching inside you at every pulse. He doesn't pull out right away, just lays still within you while you pant against his shoulder, eyeing the purple mark beginning to bloom on his skin.

"I bit you," you say, eyes wide.

He shifts slightly beneath you, cock still filling you up as he chuckles, "Yes, you did."

"I'm sor-"

He puts a hand up, shaking his head, "Don't apologize, cariño, I like it."

You nod slowly and carefully pull yourself off his cock, already missing the full sensation of having him deep inside you. You lay back on the bed beside him, eyes closed as he disposes of the condom and then settles himself tightly against your side, spooning you and pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

"Did you mean what you said?" you ask quietly, eyes still closed as you feel yourself begin to drift off in his embrace, "Will you really fuck me at work?"

He laughs, gorgeous and perfect in your ear, "Yes, mi sol, I meant it."

--

Javi takes you home early the next morning so you can change your clothes, not wanting Steve to know about what happened last night, as much as it would probably tickle him to know he had a hand in it. He waits for you outside, listening to the radio in his car and squinting against the bright sun, fingers tapping against the base of the window absentmindedly. After a few moments you come back out, wearing a yellow blouse this time in honor of your new nickname. He smiles radiantly at you and you know you made a good choice.

You both manage to keep Steve completely in the dark for the first part of the day; Javi goes back to ignoring you the way he usually does, which you have to admit makes you feel a little bad. But it's all water under the bridge when he follows you to the women's bathroom around noon and locks you inside one of the stalls with him. A few seconds later his cock is hitting the back of your throat as he proves to you that he wasn't lying.

--

"What's that?" Steve says in the late afternoon, only about an hour until you can go home. You look up from your desk but he isn't talking to you, his gaze fixed on Javi.

"What?" Javi replies, brow furrowing as he looks down at himself, "Got a bug on me or something?"

"No, you have a bite mark on your shoulder," Steve says matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks go hot, eyes widening as you stare at Javier and watch him figure out what to say.

He just shrugs coolly, "Yeah, slept with this wild bonita last night, she wanted to mark me," he looks back down at his work, "Your wife ever do shit like that, Murphy?"

Steve sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, "No, she doesn't."

"Thought so," Javi smirks, still not looking up from his paperwork, and you watch as Steve twists his mouth into a scowl, shaking his head.

A few seconds later Steve's looking over at you, giving you a small look of what you can only describe as sympathy, "Sorry," he mouths, shrugging dejectedly, "My bad."

You give him a smile in return, shaking your head, unable to help the rush you feel at not getting caught.

"It's okay," you mouth back, "I'll get over it."

You know Javi is watching you this time.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

[megalony]

Below The Limit

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, loosely requested by anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17 @zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone

Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: With (Y/n) having diabetes, Tommy likes to make sure she's okay when she's on shift. And when she isn't, he makes sure he'd there to look after her.

Enjoy.

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

"Tommy, hey. What can we do for you?" Chimney dropped the wash cloth down into the bucket by his feet and moved to plant both hands down on his hips.

His lips quirked into a smile when he noticed a familiar face waltzing into the station.

His gaze followed Tommy walking past the truck with an air of confidence about him like he was still part of this team. As if he always had and always would belong here, and the thought made Chimney smile.

A bashful look flustered across Tommy's face as his lips quirked into a lopsided smile that made his nose scrunch up and caused creases in the corners of his eyes. He glanced down at his feet for a moment while he had one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other hand was scrunched around the bag strap on his shoulder.

"Hey, is the missus about?"

His voice was as soft as the look his his eyes which darted around the station to see if (Y/n) was anywhere within sight.

Sometimes it felt strange to be back in this station house. Back where he had been a couple of years prior. Back somewhere that didn't feel like a home to Tommy like the Harbour now did. But it didn't feel so bad being back here when he knew this was where (Y/n) was; that the team now felt like a home and he was glad his wife was a part of it.

"Yeah, I think she's up in the kitchen, come on." Chimney waved over his shoulder and led the way towards the stairs with Tommy trailing close behind.

Tommy swiftly climbed the stairs, smiling softly and nodding his head when he locked eyes with Hen. She was sat on the sofa watching the news, nursing a cup of strong coffee that smelt like it had no milk in it whatsoever.

He turned to the left, his boots thudding against the polished floor announcing his presence to the rest of the team.

As soon as his eyes landed on (Y/n), a soft grin formed on his lips and the tension in his shoulders loosened as he approached the table. He let the bag slump down on his shoulder and silently walked up behind (Y/n).

His arms cocooned around her neck and he pressed his chest down into her shoulders, feeling the way (Y/n) jumped and gasped before she realised who it was. When Tommy pressed his lips down on the top of (Y/n)'s head, he felt her hands reach up and hold onto his forearms. She leaned back into him and turned her head to the right, pressing a soft kiss against Tommy's exposed neck.

(Y/n) let her eyes drag up and down her husband, feeling her heart thunder out a few extra beats at his attire. He was wearing a very thin, sleeveless grey top that showed off the way his arms bulged when they wrapped around her neck. And his blue jeans were pulled up high over his hips with his shirt tucked in.

"Hi," She whispered softly, rubbing her hand up and down his bicep while she leaned her head on his other arm. (Y/n) knew if she closed her eyes, she would be liable to fall asleep. This was how they slept when they were at home, with her tangled up in Tommy's arms like this.

"Hi babe." Tommy gave her shoulder a squeeze and pressed a kiss to her cheek as he swayed (Y/n) from side to side. He felt the way he shivered when he lifted his head and moved to hover his lips over her ear. "I brought you your meds."

Tommy kissed her cheek again before he leaned round to steal one from her lips. When he stood up properly, his hands moved to hold her shoulders as (Y/n) leaned her head back into his abdomen and smiled up at him.

"Thank you."

(Y/n) gave his wrist a squeeze before she got up from her seat at the table and slid her hand into Tommy's palm. Her fingers squeezed his hand tight and she gave his arm a tug until he grinned and followed her around the side of the table and over into the kitchen.

When they got into the otherwise empty kitchen, (Y/n) spun round and pressed her hips back against the counter and moved her hands to grasp the countertop. Her head tilted back to look up at her husband who towered over her with a coy grin as he moved to stand between her legs.

He slid the backpack off his shoulder and slumped it down on the counter beside (Y/n) before his hands moved to hold her hips. He gave her a squeeze and pressed down against her until their hips were touching and their chests were merged together. His thumbs glided across her hips and he took a few seconds to look her up and down, drinking her in as if he hadn't seen (Y/n) in days rather than just hours.

"Do you feel okay? How's your shift been?" Tommy kept his voice quiet, although there was only Chimney and Eddie sat at the kitchen table and they weren't listening in.

He smiled when (Y/n) let go of the counter to drag her hands up his arms until she was holding his biceps.

"Three calls in less than two hours this morning. I'm ready for home," (Y/n) let her head fall in the centre of Tommy's chest which rumbled as he laughed and made her stomach flood with adrenaline.

She loved the way his thumbs stroked up and down her hips and his fingers gave her a squeeze every now and then. And she could feel his lips merging with her hair again and the touch made her shiver.

So far (Y/n)'s shift had been hectic. They had been on more callouts this morning than the last shift (Y/n) had been on last week. For it being her first shift back after a week off sick, she had certainly come back with a bang. But she knew in six hours she could head home and be with Tommy.

He had been on shift last night and was finally heading home, so he had a few hours to kill until (Y/n) came off shift and could come back home. That was why he was here. He had finished work and picked (Y/n)'s meds up along the way home because he knew she wouldn't have chance and she was running low.

"Tell me you've had lunch, or do I have to crack open the insulin before I go?"

Tommy's hand slid up from (Y/n)'s hip to cradle the side of her neck and he tilted her head back so they were level. His nose nudged hers as he swooped down and stole a kiss, tasting the orange juice on her lips which told Tommy she was trying to keep her sugar levels up.

He felt (Y/n)'s hands glide from his biceps to hold his shoulders so she could push up on her toes and be level with him but he pulled back far too soon for her liking.

His fingers curled around the back of her neck and he arched a brow, waiting for a response while he reached over her and opened his bag.

"Chicken sandwich and an apple for good measure. Is that okay, Pilot?"

"I suppose that's good enough. But take it easy, please? I know what it's like when it's a busy shift."

God knows Tommy had had enough busy shifts down at the Harbour to know it was very easy to miss meals or forget about a drink and start to dehydrate. But he couldn't have that happening with (Y/n). Skipping one meal would throw off her blood sugar and give her a dip in glucose levels which she didn't need.

He didn't want (Y/n)'s first shift back to be one where she had to go home early because she'd overdone things and made herself sick. If he thought for one second that she was already wearing herself thin, Tommy would take her back home with him right now.

"Don't worry, I've got a stash of chocolate bars in the truck and cartons of juice in the fridge. And there's a sweet box I keep dipping into, I'll be fine."

She always brought in fruit juice and cans of pop so she had sugary drinks on hand in case of a hypo state. And there was a box of small chocolate bars, mainly Freddos, tucked under one of the seats in the truck. It was easier for (Y/n) to have a little boost of chocolate before they went into busy, exercising situations so she wouldn't wear herself down and run low on sugar.

Plus, they all brought sweets and treats in for when they were bored or on the move. And sweets helped (Y/n) after a big call out and she needed to boost her levels back up again.

"Hm, good."

Tommy stole another kiss before he rummaged around in his bag and got out the white paper bag.

"You've got some glucagon in there, we burned through all the reserves the other week. Keep some here and I'll take the rest home."

His hands fell down to hold (Y/n)'s hips when she spun so her hips were pressed into the counter and her bum was pressed back into Tommy. She opened the bag and took a look through while she felt his lips attach to her shoulder.

(Y/n) hadn't been well during the last two weeks and she had to have all of last week off work. Tommy had taken a few days off to look after her and he had been surprised at how much glucagon they had gone through. (Y/n) had insulin and a few different forms of glucose, but for emergencies such as a hypoglaecemic state, she had glucagon injections.

Tommy had never had to give (Y/n) so many injections as he did during the last two weeks. He had to explain to the chemist that they needed more in case (Y/n) had any more hypo states. She kept some injections at home, but she had to keep some here at the station for emergencies.

She had spare insulin, glucose sachets, glucose powder and glucagon injections in her medical bag here in the station.

"Thank you babe." (Y/n) took out what she needed and put the rest back in Tommy's backpack, but her eyes lit up and she reached inside his bag for the pack of jelly babies she just spotted. She felt him murmur "How did I know you'd find those." against her shoulder as if he had bought them for himself.

They both knew he got those especially for (Y/n).

They were one of her favourites and they were a great source of sugar when she needed a boost.

She took them out the bag and hid them in one of the kitchen cupboards with the rest of her stash. (Y/n) could always count on Tommy to hide a pack of sweets or a few chocolate bars into her work bag when she wasn't looking. She would never run out of reserves. Tommy wouldn't let that happen.

"Alright, now you're stocked up, I can go home."

"You're leaving me?"

He knew she was joking but the look in her eyes made Tommy's knees go weak and his stomach flooded with adrenaline. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her deeply while he groaned against her.

"Get back to work before I take you home with me, babe. I'll see you tonight." If he stayed here much longer either Tommy wouldn't go home or he would drag (Y/n) back with him and end her shift early. He needed to go now while he had the willpower to tear himself away from her.

***

3.7MMOL.

*Baby you need to get some sugar in your system, you're below the limit. Xx

Tommy tapped his phone against his palm and glanced up towards the sky like he was looking for answers or praying for a swift reply.

He needed (Y/n) to answer him.

Due to her diabetes, she had a Dexcom which was a small device on her abdomen that constantly checked and took readings of her glucose levels. For safety reasons, both (Y/n) and Tommy had the app on their phones. It alerted (Y/n) when she needed to boost her levels or when she had too much glucose and was going to have a hyper.

It was also good for if her levels dropped during the night because sometimes (Y/n) would sleep through it and wake up feeling horrid. But the app sent alerts and Tommy was a light sleeper. He got the alerts and made sure she was okay.

And right now, his alerts were going wild.

He continued to tap his phone against his hand while his shoulders rested up against the wall and he crossed one leg over the other.

*Baby, are you okay? Have you managed to eat anything yet? Xx

He began to turn his phone around and around in circles, but he wasn't getting any response. All he could see was the Dexcom alerts that showed her levels weren't rising yet, meaning (Y/n) either hadn't managed to eat or drink anything. Or, she was, but it wasn't helping and if that was the case, Tommy would have to go and make sure she was alright.

She was on shift and that made Tommy even more worried. What if this was happening while she was in the middle of a call? What if she didn't have her phone on her and couldn't see the alerts? What if she confused the hypo symptoms with general exhersion from the job?

"Hey Kinard, you ready?"

His eyes darted to the right when a colleague, Andrew, patted his shoulder and nodded towards the chopper. Had they gotten a callout and Tommy had completely missed the announcement?

He couldn't go out on a call. He couldn't fly them out into an unknown situation with his phone sending off alerts every two minutes and Tommy sat there, unable to check on (Y/n).

"Give me a minute." He looked back down at his phone, about to swipe across to (Y/n)'s contact when another notification popped up on the screen.

Glucose levels: 3.3MMOL

"Fuck!"

He couldn't go now. He had to go and check what was happening. If (Y/n)'s levels dropped anymore than this she was at risk of a seizure or going unconscious. And the last time that happened, Tommy had spent the night in the emergency room and the next two days in the hospital with (Y/n) slipping in and out of consciousness. He wasn't doing that again. He needed to go and find out if his wife was alright.

His heart gave a sudden pound in his chest when his phone started to ring and sent jolts of electricity running along his nerves and up his arms.

"Eddie?" Why was Eddie calling him? Wasn't he supposed to be on shift today? Hadn't Tommy already told him that he too was on shift? They didn't have any plans, they were supposed to be going out for drinks the day after tomorrow.

"Hey Tommy, sorry I know you're at work, but, uh, we've got a situation down here."

He knew. He just knew that Eddie was talking about (Y/n). Why else would he be calling Tommy? It wasn't as if Tommy was part of their team or someone they would call to cover a shift or diffuse a situation. His only connection to the 118, other than his friendship with some of the team, was his wife.

"How bad is she?"

"Sweating and having heart palpitations. She's had some sweets and a can of Fanta but she doesn't look good, we're waiting to see if her levels rise now. Any chance-"

"I'm on my way. Do not give her anything else until I get there."

They had to wait at least ten minutes after giving (Y/n) a drink or something to eat. Her body needed time to even out and for the sugar to do its magic and raise her glucose levels again. Then if it didn't work, they could try giving her something else to see if it would work. But Tommy didn't want them giving (Y/n) anything, not until he got there and checked how bad she was for himself.

"Kinard, is everything okay?"

"No. I need to go get my wife."

It was a surprisingly short trip from the Harbour down to the 118 station and Tommy couldn't have been more thankful.

His car keys circled round on his thumb, swinging back and forth until the keychain that depicted him and (Y/n) was continuously bashing into the palm of his hand. His work boots thudded against the polished floor and both hands clenched into fists, imbedding his keys into his palm like he was creating a mould.

"Where is she?" His voice dropped two octaves and deep frown lines appeared in his forehead when Buck came into his line of sight. He didn't have time for pleasantries, he needed to find (Y/n).

"Up in the annex." Buck pointed over his shoulder and turned, guiding Tommy up the stairs towards the kitchen he had only been in three days ago.

He didn't like what he saw. When his eyes locked on his wife, his chest puffed out and he held his breath. She was sat on the sofa, arms bound around her chest with her head tilted down and her body moving back and forth as she sat trembling.

He could see a can of Fanta opened on the coffee table, the pack of jelly babies he brought the other day were ripped open along with a chocolate bar and a glass of orange juice. None of which were finished and all of which clearly weren't doing anything to raise (Y/n)'s levels.

Bobby was leaning over the back of the sofa, both hands clamped down on the cushion like he was going to break it apart. Hen was sat next to (Y/n) on the sofa with a hand on her shoulder, and Eddie was sat on the coffee table. Tommy could see (Y/n)'s phone resting on Eddie's knee and he figured he was checking her Dexcom app to watch her levels to see if they were rising or not.

As soon as he walked over, Eddie got up and moved to stand near the kitchen table with Buck. (Y/n) didn't need everyone crowding round her when she didn't feel well.

"How are we doing, baby?"

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s system when she looked up and realised Tommy was here.

He was in his overalls.

The royal blue uniform he wore tightened and tensed around his shoulders and bunched over his hips when he crouched down in front of her. The material strained at his knees which pressed into the sofa while he crouched down between her knees and moved his hands to grip her thighs comfortingly.

"I- I'm sorry-"

"No, no apologies. Let's have a look at you."

She had made him leave work to come here. (Y/n) didn't want him to have to do that. But the stern look on his face stopped the panic from bubbling away in her head. He wasn't annoyed at her; he had chosen to come down here and he wouldn't have her apologise for that.

His hand slithered up to cup the side of her neck and he smiled softly while he felt her pulse. The palpitations were still present, but they weren't as bad as Tommy was expecting. Or as bad as (Y/n) had experienced last week while she was off work.

He reached across for her phone and took a look. Her levels were still below 4 and that wasn't good.

"Let's have another try and see how we go. Can you have a drink for me?" Tommy turned round and grabbed the can of Fanta from the table and held it out. One more try to see if food or a drink would even her levels out and if not, they would have to try something else.

(Y/n) tried to curl her hand around the can but she whimpered when the can began to shake and the pop fizzled around the rim and trickled down her hand. Her eyes locked with her husband when he curled his hand around hers and moved the can towards her lips.

After a few sips, she let Tommy take the can and put it back down and she moved her hands to hold onto his forearms.

He stroked his thumbs across her thighs while (Y/n) kept hold of his arms like she was making sure he wasn't about to leave her. As if he would. He thought about getting her to try some more sweets, but she didn't look like she could try and stomach any more. The dazed look in her eyes told Tommy it would be dangerous to get her to try and eat in case she passed out.

The shaking continued and it looked like the couple were trying some strange dance together.

But when (Y/n)'s head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up, her chin tilted down and her head flopped forward with her body following suit. Tommy pushed up on his knees just in time for (Y/n)'s head to collide with his shoulder and send his nerves shooting from the collision.

He moved his hands from her thighs to dig into her hips instead while Hen quickly leaned over and held onto (Y/n)'s upper arms to reel her up so she didn't fall down to the floor.

"No, baby you need to stay awake with me. Come on, up we go." He pushed up from his knees and eased (Y/n) backwards while he sat down on the sofa beside her.

As soon as he was sat down, Tommy carefully laid (Y/n) up against his chest with her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He could feel her quietly groaning into his skin and when her hand flopped onto his thigh, he breathed in relief. She was still conscious.

"I brought some more glucagon injections the other day, can someone grab it please? If her levels don't rise I need to take her to the hospital."

Eddie headed over to the kitchen. He already knew Buck wouldn't know what he was looking for and he wasn't sure Bobby would know either. He hurried into the kitchen and opened the end cupboard where (Y/n) kept all of her meds and her drinks and sweets.

"Baby, you still with me? I need to give you an injection, okay?" Tommy's left arm stayed wrapped around (Y/n)'s waist, keeping her tucked up into his chest. While his right hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back enough so he could look down at her and make sure she was coherent.

When she grumbled and gave his thigh a light squeeze, Tommy shifted his hands down to (Y/n)'s waist. He turned her around as slowly and carefully as he could and leaned (Y/n)'s back up against his chest so she was slouched against him.

Her head fell back on his shoulder and when (Y/n) felt his right arm swoop around her waist, she flopped her trembling hand down to clench around his forearm.

(Y/n) couldn't find the will to open her eyes, but she kept squeezing his arm every few seconds so he knew she was still awake and somewhat alert to what was going on.

As soon as Eddie came back through, Bobby held out his hand, a silent gesture that he would be the one giving (Y/n) her injection. As much as she loved and trusted her team, she didn't want any of them to do her medication. She only trusted Tommy with that job role. And he didn't like the thought of someone else giving his wife her medication.

"Okay, arm out for me sweetheart."

Tommy perched his chin on (Y/n)'s left shoulder while Hen gently held her wrist to keep her arm steady since she was still trembling like they were stood in the Arctic. His right hand curled tighter around her waist, pinning her into his chest so he could tap his thumb over her elbow to find where best to inject the glucagon.

It was a good job he'd done this hundreds of times already and that he was used to giving her the injection from this angle. His lips pressed down against her shoulder when she whimpered and tilted her forehead against his.

"Shh, sweetheart, all done." He managed a smile when Bobby took the used needle from him to go and dispose of it.

Tommy's hand pressed down against (Y/n)'s stomach while his other hand smoothed up and down her arm. He merged his lips against her cheek and sat her up a bit straighter just to make sure she didn't fall asleep. If she went unconscious he would have to take her to the hospital and he knew she never wanted to do that. She hated the hospital.

He could feel himself counting the minutes in his head. He needed (Y/n) to react. He needed her phone to buzz with a notification that the injection had worked and her levels were rising back to where they should be. He needed her to perk up and be out the danger zone so he could take her home.

Tommy held his breath and stayed motionless when (Y/n) suddenly moved down to hold his arm. He could tell it took her some effort to lift his arm and he wondered what she was doing. But his lips curved into a melting grin when she wrapped his arm around her upper chest just below her neck and he realised what she wanted.

She wanted comfort; she wanted a cuddle.

He curled his left hand around her shoulder and tensed his arm across her collarbone. His heart flipped and increased in rhythm when (Y/n) tilted her chin down and kissed his arm. Both her hands curled around his forearm that she was kissing and she snuggled down against his chest and he could tell she felt calmer when he started to sway them from side to side.

"Hey, I think it's working." Eddie picked up (Y/n)'s phone and held it out for them all to take a look.

A notification popped up. Her levels were steadily crawling back up towards 4MMOL and as long as they kept getting higher and got anywhere above 4, (Y/n) would be okay.

"Thank God," Tommy murmured against the top of her head while he slowly uncurled his arm from her waist so he could grab the glass of juice. He knew going into a hypo always made (Y/n) feel thirsty and he would feel better if she had some more to drink to keep herself conscious and alert.

(Y/n) tried to take a few sips but she had to put the glass down and she went straight back to cradling Tommy's arm to her chest.

"I feel sick," She whispered hoarsely while she blinked a few times to clear her hazy vision. She could feel the shaking starting to subside and she was starting to feel more alert and awake, but she felt like she was going to throw up. Not uncommon when she had an episode, but (Y/n) hated feeling like this.

"That should wear off soon."

"You need to go home and get something to eat. And don't think you're coming in tomorrow, I'll change the rota and swap you to Friday instead." Bobby's tone and his expression was one not to be messed with. (Y/n) couldn't stay for the last four hours of her shift today, not after an episode like this. It would only make her a liability for this happening again.

She needed to rest and it was nearing tea time so she would need to go and get something to eat and hope that would help settle her system. And Bobby knew it would be best if she had tomorrow off to level her system out and she could come in on Friday instead so she didn't lose any hours.

He knew Tommy would give him a call if (Y/n) wasn't well enough to come in Friday.

Hen whispered a soft "I'll go get your stuff," and she patted (Y/n)'s thigh before she got up to go down to the locker room.

"Right, shall we get you home?"

(Y/n) tilted her head back on Tommy's shoulder and moved her hand to cup the side of his neck. She brushed her thumb across his jaw, noticing the intrigue in his eyes when she bit down on her lower lip. "You're on shift-"

"You can think again if you think I'm leaving you like this. I'm taking you home, that's final. Come on, sweetheart." There was no way Tommy was taking her home and then going back to work. He had already cleared it to end his shift early. Everyone at the Harbour was more than understanding when Tommy explained about (Y/n)'s condition and the fact that he needed to look after her.

His hands shifted down to her hips and he carefully eased (Y/n) forward. He let her lean back on his chest and use him as a prop to hold her up while he pushed up from the sofa.

But when Tommy realised her knees were quaking, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head.

He stood in front of her, shifted his hands down to her thighs and lifted her up effortlessly like she weighed nothing more than a pillow. (Y/n) gasped and quickly hooked her legs around his waist and looped her arms around the back of his neck. Her temple fell forward onto his shoulder and she began to glide her fingers up and down the back of his neck until Tommy growled quickly and caused her to stop.

She could feel the way he held her in place on his torso with just one arm wrapped around the back of her thighs. He leaned down and grabbed her phone with his free hand and followed Bobby down the stairs. It was as if (Y/n) weighed nothing and the ease he held her with and his combined, flattering grin made (Y/n)'s stomach jump.

Her lips attached to his neck just behind his ear and she grazed her teeth against his skin. She smiled into his neck when his free hand slapped against her thigh while he twisted his head to kiss her temple.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

***

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) nudged her nose against the side of Tommy's neck while she looped her arms tighter around his shoulders. Her fingers tickled the back of his neck and ragged up and down the short hairs until he had to lean his head back when she made him shiver.

She kept her eyes closed while she pressed a tender, butterfly kiss against his neck and pressed her knees tighter into his hips. Her lips curved into a grin against his neck when she felt his hands move.

Tommy slid his left hand up beneath her shirt so his fingers could trace over her bare skin and trace the dips and curves of her spine. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head and wedged his other hand past the band of her leggings so he could give her hip a squeeze.

He knew she wasn't watching the movie anymore. He wasn't sure she had even been watching to begin with and at one point he thought she had fallen asleep, but she proved she was awake now.

He slouched down into the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, crossing one ankle over the other while (Y/n) shimmied on his lap and curled up against his chest.

When she finally bothered to open her eyes, (Y/n) pressed her temple into the side of Tommy's jaw. She was about to turn her head and see how far into the movie they were, but her eyes suddenly locked on Tommy's phone that was laid out on the sofa next to his thigh.

He had her Dexcom app open on his phone.

He was checking her levels, even while he had (Y/n) sat here on his lap awake and content, proving that she felt better than this afternoon. He wanted to watch her levels and pounce the second her levels dropped below 4. Tommy wasn't willing to go through another hypo. Not when he was here to look after her.

(Y/n)'s lips curved into a tender smile against his neck when she realised he kept flitting his eyes down to his phone every now and then, making sure he noticed any dip in her levels.

"You feeling okay?" He murmured quietly against the top of her head while his hand continued to rub circles up and down her back. And (Y/n) could feel the pad of his index finger tracing each column of her spine like they were bumps in the road he was counting.

"Just tired."

"Tired, or drowsy?" He hummed when (Y/n) shrugged and pressed a tingling kiss right beneath his jaw which made him take a deep breath. "Can you try some chocolate then? Stop your levels from dropping any further."

(Y/n) tightened her arms around his neck when Tommy pressed his palm flat against her back and leaned forward. Their chests meshed together and he turned his head to plant a sloppy kiss against her cheek while his hand reached out onto the coffee table and grabbed the pack of chocolate buttons.

He slouched back into the sofa and inched down a little more until he was almost fully reclined with (Y/n) tilted forward into his chest.

He placed the bag down next to his phone and he smiled when (Y/n) took a small handful.

Her levels had been going up and down since Tommy brought her home and although she felt a lot better now, he didn't want to risk her having another hypo. Which was why he'd got the app open so he could see if her levels dropped so the moment they did, he could get her to eat or drink something and perk them back up. And if her levels rose too high, he would go and grab her meds from the kitchen.

(Y/n) popped two chocolate buttons in her mouth and held one out against Tommy's lips. Her stomach fluttered with adrenaline when he gladly accepted the chocolate and kissed the pad of her thumb in the process.

She took a few more chocolates while her cheek rested on Tommy's shoulder and her arm stayed around the back of his neck.

But after a few minutes, (Y/n) slowly lifted herself up and sank back on Tommy's thighs. Her hands moved to cradle either side of his neck and she loved the way his eyes instantly fell on her and his head tilted back against the sofa so he was staring up at her. He was giving her his full attention as both hands moved to hold her hips.

"Can we go to bed?"

She got her answer when he reached across for the tv remote and turned the tv off without a word.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) sank back down against his chest and attached her lips to his. She could taste the chocolate on his lips and the sugary taste and the feel of Tommy's teeth grazing her lips had her nerves tingling and sparking like electricity.

Their lips barely parted, pulling back to suck in another gasping breath before Tommy was taking control of her lips again. His hands slithered down to cup the back of her thighs while he leaned forward, squashing her chest into his so he could push forward and stand up. He kept (Y/n) sat low on his torso, her thighs pinned around his hips in a tight embrace that made him smile against her lips.

He took two steps away from the sofa before he groaned against her mouth and pulled back so he could look what he was doing.

It was hard to concentrate when he felt (Y/n)'s hands glide up from his neck to cup his face. Her thumbs brushed across his cheekbones and she watched him slip his phone into his back pocket. But it was when he grabbed the pack of chocolates that (Y/n)'s eyes furrowed and she looked at him quizzically.

"What're you doing?"

Her lips attached to the side of his jaw and she felt him give her thigh a tight squeeze while a smirk formed on his lips and his nose scrunched.

"Trust me, you're gonna need the sugar."

[gremlingottoosilly]

I saw another anon ask about Konig and his little wifey who likes gifts and shiny things and just

Imagine

His little wifey doing a little fashion show for him with all the pretty outfits she’s bought

Maybe she even got a nice set of lingerie or two for hubby’s viewing pleasure?

Awwww, he loves seeing you happy like this! You're so pretty, he can't help but take pictures, so many of them, his recruits are going to groan from frustration for days on end while watching him being more and more whipped with each passing second. He isn't a fashionista and he doesn't know much about fashion and style and just loves everything you put on because gosh, his wife is so pretty! So nice!! He is a bit old-fashioned like that, he spends so much money on Polaroids! He loves to have the picture of every outfit you compile, and rotates the cutest ones in his vest whenever he goes out on missions - this guy is missing a death flag every time he takes up a picture of you in some expensive new coat or a really cool set of pants and jewelry, and kisses it before committing another war crime and killing a bunch of people. You look so awkward in the shopping center, it's insane. I can imagine Konig strolling through the shopping street with high-end shops in Vienna, hauling all of your bags like the good horsey he is because you wanted to go to ten different stores and gave him a show every time he whipped out his card to pay for everything! He will even allow you to style his clothes, just a little bit - nothing too much and god forbid you from buying him skinny jeans because he will reconsider giving you buying privileges. You buy yourself a nice lingerie but, unfortunately, Konig is an old soldier who doesn't respect art and knows jackshit about cute lingerie pieces that need to be taken out in a gentle and swift manner...he just ravages it from your body because he can't wait to unwrap you like a cute gift! He will buy you a new set later, don't you worry.

[vickyzangels]

% “top floor motel suite, twistin’ my cigars..”

# synopsis ; post-concert adrenaline? you two sneak off after a performance (girl idk) also another anon requested tom and reader fuck before a concert while i was writing this so i hope close enough

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x fem!reader

# word count ; 835

# tags ; nsfw (mdni), fingering, oral (f receiving), no specified relationship, this is probably ass but i’ve seen worse

a/n ; wow a smut so soon how bold🧍🏻‍♀️

also “meine frau” - my woman/wife (you guys aren’t actually married it’s just a nickname don’t get your hopes up delulu)

teeth grinding together as you both pushed your way into a backroom. tokio hotel’s performance ended and as soon as they left the stage to make room for the next, tom dropped off his guitar to grab you and pull you away (obviously not without bill looking at you two weirdly, he knows what you two have been doing 👁️👁️). the process of running into the room, slamming the door, and ending up against it while making out with each other was blurry, but here you two were moaning into each other's mouths just like after every concert.

he held one of his arms against the door next to your head and had the other one holding your side under your shirt, using his thumb to rub slow, small, and gentle circles into your skin innocently like he wasn’t currently lifting his knee to rub you through your jeans. the friction was so perfect with how it rubbed against your clit through your panties and kept making you buck onto his leg. the feeling was so engulfing, with your eyes screwed shut and panting into the air with tom moving down to your neck leaving kisses, by god if an angel came down to take you to heaven you’d say no. not like you’d make it in, anyway with what you two were doing

“meine frau, you’re so impatient.”

“i- what?”

he pulled back, keeping his arm next to your head and on your side, and looked at you with those eyes that under any other circumstance would make you want to vomit and tear your hair out for good reason but right now he was smirking. that smug asshole.

he laughed, “i said you’re so impatient. hey, you’re getting yourself off on my leg, don’t lie and say you’re not!”

your face was starting to contort, it looked sour. is he serious? while you were literally riding his leg, he calls you impatient? he was starting to see your change of mood like he was getting worried he ruined it.

“listen, i was just joking, i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

“and how do you plan to do that?”

“..i’ll eat you out.”

and before you knew it, you ended up sitting on the table against the vanity mirror shoving everything off of it to make room for you. something sweet about you two was that despite being similar in personality, a lot of your physical features mirrored each other. like how he always wore baggy jeans and you wore tighter ones, which would be cute in other conditions but right now while tom was trying to pull your jeans off to kiss your waist, it was more of an inconvenience.

thankfully, they came off and tom made quick to kneel and put his head between your thighs, sucking the insides to leave hickeys and inching closer to your cunt. somehow you hadn’t noticed till now that you were painfully throbbing, your thighs covered in slick and wanting to close your legs, only stopping yourself from doing so because you remembered tom was between you. not that he’d complain about being suffocated with your legs.

tom had been kissing his way closer to your pussy and it was driving you insane how close he was to pleasing you but he just.. hadn’t. you opened your mouth, starting to weakly beg him to touch you, pleasure you, when he finally flattened his tongue against you and licked a long stripe of your pussy.

“..please, tom, touch me- holy fucckk!”

he started to suck on you, reaching up his fingers in a v-shape and running them up and down your folds to later hold them at the entrance, prodding at it just barely enough to enter you. he’s a bit preoccupied but if he had a mouth to talk, he’d say something about how desperate you were for him, but it looks like he pities you and finally pushed a finger into you to move with slow strokes.

he kept his consistently slow speed by lapping at your slick, pushing in a second finger and turning it upwards to curl them inside you. the strokes and curls of his finger were starting to speed up and match the new motion of his tongue flicking your clit.

“god! shit-“ you moaned.

a knot in your stomach was starting to form and every single passing second of hearing tom lap loudly at your juices and the additional gushing from his fingers and mouth kept pulling the knot tighter and tighter. he kept groaning into your cunt, every word he repeated vibrating through you. you were dangerously close, bucking against his face like a bronco to have his nose continuously rub your clit.

“fuck, tomm! i’m- shit- i’m gonna cum!” weaving your hand into his dreads and riding his face to your release, squirting your slick through your orgasm. he kept sucking and lapping at you, resisting your weak attempts to push his head off you before finally stopping to kiss around you cunt. through your heavy breaths, “..your turn?”

“yeah.” he uses the table next to your legs to push himself up, quickly going to fumble with the belt over his pants, nearly getting the entire strap off before-

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

tom was the one to answer, “wer ist da?” who’s there?

“oi, du musst raus, wir gehen und nein, du kannst keine 5 minuten mehr haben, mach es im hotel.” hey, you need to get out, we’re leaving and no you can’t have 5 more minutes, do it at the hotel.

…

“verdammt noch mal.” damn it.

a/n ; working on this for 3 days straight with 2 allnighters while ignoring how awkward it is to write it just to hate how it comes out then give up towards the end is crazy… 😟

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

[wholoveseggs]

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

[darylsdelts]

I need more of your headcanons of Daryl being a mama's boy pleeease!! Also, I support the anon who said that everything you say about Daryl is canon... I mean, you know him personally after all😌

Daryl; a mommas boy:

🐻 his mother wanted to, but couldn’t breastfeed him very well since she wasn’t exactly healthy. She regretted not having that closeness with her baby for the first few months.

🐻 Daryl would ask for warm milk until around age five, when his father would no longer allow it. It was a comfort to him mostly because it means watching his mommy make it then he got to sit on her lap and drink it.

🐻 Little Daryl would save his best jeans his momma bought him for when he had to go to school, he never wore them whilst playing.

🐻 His first favourite toys were tiny toy trucks. He took them to the park to push em down the slide and another little boy took one. He didn’t try to get it back or say anything, he just walked over to his mommy with watery eyes.

🐻 He’d get tummy ache at school when he missed his mom.

🐻 As he got older, after his mother passed, he’d quietly talk to her in his room about how things have been with his father and how he hated Merle for leaving him.

🐻 His mom was one of those people who liked crystals and witchy things. When he found that Jasper stone it reminded him of his mom.

🐻 Older Daryl sometimes wonders if his mom would agree with the way he handles certain things. Would she want for him to have a wife? Kids?

🐻 His mother and father put him off of marriage completely but his mommy always told him that he’d be loved deeply no matter what.

🐻 Baby Daryl didn’t like porridge.

🐻 Very fussy when having medicine.

🐻 Didn’t particularly like bath time either, always trying to make it go quick.

🐻 Didn’t like when his mom cut his hair to keep it out his eyes.

🐻 The smell of lavender reminds him of his mom.

🐻 His mom tried to help him with reading once the school told her that he struggles with it. She didn’t know he was dyslexic.

I could say so much more but this feels like a lot