#v; i too can become a hero

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS

[pktearsoftazmily]

What's the sort of person Lucas would become, once he's an adult? Do you have any headcanons about that?

Lucas remains the kind, strong boy he has been for so long, but he's not afraid to speak his mind at this point. That boy now has confidence to voice his thoughts without fear of judgement or worry of it backfire on him.

When he's an adult, Lucas becomes a farmer boy! He tends to the sheep in the farm he's began to build over the course of time, but plans to make it an official farm once he has more money to buy more animals and homes for them.

His anxiety isn't bad as as it used to be. It still flares up from time to time, but it's a lot more manageable now. His depression also isn't as bad any more either.

Still likes country western music. You can't take that away from him folks, as much as you might try to.

Becomes a father eventually to a boy of his own! The boy will end up looking a lot like Lucas and will be named Aaron.

Thankfully, his immune system, while never being as strong as the average person's, does however get stronger! Getting sick for him won't come as easily as before when he was a teenager, but he still needs to practice self care to ensure he doesn't get sick.

Can now talk about past trauma without the urge to cry. This includes Hinawa, and the abandonment from his father.

[yanderestarangel]

Okay, so I was thinking about yandere Peter B and Miguel O’Hara with FTM reader. Both men obsessed and possessive with them ever since they joined the society.

And they both share them. Kinks could be breeding, size difference, degradation, praising kink? Miguel could be a hard dom and Peter a soft dom. You could add more if ya like.

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

🕸️🕷️ 》 OUR LITTLE SPIDER || PETER B. PARKER AND MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER ||

A/N: I made it in headcanon format because I was too lazy to make a one shot, but I hope you like it.

THIS WAS A LITTLE TOO LONG SORRY--- ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

TW: age gap, smut, yandere content, dark romance, daddykink, praise!kink, size!kink, possession, manipulation, ftm reader, betrayal, breed!kink, v!sex, anal!sex, overstimulation, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, aphrodisiac use, dub con, threesome, creampie.

Being in the spidersociety was a big responsibility role for you, but you accepted it anyway, after all you had the sense of hero that each spider variant had. You didn't expect so much attention or flattery for you but that's what you received from two specific people ─ Miguel O'Hara, your boss and Peter B. Parker, the most peaceful and sweet spider man you met in Spider society. You swore you saw hearts form in the two older men's orbs simultaneously.

You quickly saw things escalate to a strange level. Miguel was very protective of you, even putting you on "easier" missions like staying at the spider society headquarters and giving him boring reports.

"You're safe here. Being a spider-man isn't just about battling villains, it's about learning responsibility. You're still a little spider, carinõ." the Mexican would speak as he gave you more papers to fill out. While on the other hand, Peter agreed with everything the leader said, complementing even more.

"Miguel is right, baby boy. You still have a lot to learn." The older man gestured excitedly and you accepted, defeated and sighing.

O'Hara watched everything with a chill passing through him, he tried not to let his thoughts speak loudly but he knew that Peter was also interested in you, just like the Mexican was.

"You shouldn't be so close to him, Peter. Your wife will be jealous." O'Hara hissed the words like venom coming out of his fangs, while the other spider-man just smiled relaxedly and looked at the younger man.

"You want to compete for him? Is that it Miguelito? You liked him too, didn't you? We can share." Peter spoke as he saw you oblivious to the dark conversation you were both having.

The proposal for a share was denied in the first instance, but every day it seemed more tempting for the spider leader, for several reasons. The main one was that you were getting closer to other spider variants and Peter, being more social, was keeping up with your pace ── at the same time that you realized that some spider variants no longer wanted to talk to you, if that variant presented romantic interest in you, they disappeared and came back with deep bruises, diverting topics with you and leading you to turn to Peter.

Little did you know that the nice family man was the cause of that. He was sick for you, to the point of abandoning his purposes and character ── you and his daughter were the only things that mattered to him at that moment, he told himself that he still loved Mary Jane... But he also loved you.

Peter was getting rid of another spider variant using threats and pure blackmail to do so, but the poor victim that time had no chance after Miguel appeared and took out his fury on them. The tall man sloppily wiped the blood off his hands as he turned to Peter.

"Okay... I accept your proposal, let's share the ninõ." O'Hara spoke in a calm, cold and insane tone, while he saw Parker smile and nod his head ── after this previous peace agreement between them, it was his life's turn to become a sweet hell.

You had no one else inside or outside the spider society, Peter and Miguel were the only ones who spoke to you. (Peter's threat + Miguel's tyrannical power with the other spider variants in secret was the reason for his involuntary isolation.)

In addition to the fact that the Mexican used his entire database to find out about your family, friends and possible love interests outside the society he had control over ── some were bought with money, others were threatened and others... They were found in alleys and became news on TV channels.

Everything was falling apart in your life, even your college grades and your mental state and all you had left was the comfort of the two older men... Exactly as you both planned.

You ran into their arms while crying and venting ── an Oscar award was supposed to be presented to the duo, both of them pretended shock and indignation while you told them every detail. So when you were weakened enough, they acted, bringing you into their possession, protecting you from the cruel world that was made worse in their minds.

Compliments, gifts, words of positive affirmations and everything sweet and warm in the world they gave you. Miguel was more desperate for touch, placing you on his lap while he worked on the panels of the multiverse or giving you small, intimate but not vulgar kisses, something that asserted a silent and slow dominance ── away from curious eyes, after all he was still the leader of that society.

Peter on the other hand would give you more affection in public, you and him would even go for a walk together with mayday as a family, away from Mary Jane's eyes. He would also lie to you saying that he and his wife were separated and even show the old divorce paper to prove something to you... You were trapped in a spider web of lies and dirty manipulations.

And when you realized, you were in a relationship with both men ── they asked you if it was okay for you to deal with both of them at the same time, which you denied, too drunk with pleasure to think about anything more than both filling you to the brim (an effect that was also the fault of the aphrodisiac Miguel had put in your drink that day.)

Peter's hands took off your spider uniform while O'Hara's thick hands went towards your wetness, playing roughly with your clit "mi hermoso" the spider leader growled in your ear as one of his thick fingers entered inside you, making you moan ─ at the same time that Peter sucked your nipples and gently squeezed your breasts, his experienced hands were working magic on your body. Raw kisses were left by the older man on your abdomen, as Parker knelt and licked your clit, helping O'Hara prepare you even more for what was to come.

"You're already dripping for us, aren't you? Such a good little slut." The tanned man teased as he stuck a second finger in your cunt, stretching you in scissor movements, back and forth. Peter got out on his knees as he captured your lips lightly moaning huskily against your flesh: "Such a beautiful and good boy for us... You make your daddies proud like that little spider." He said as Miguel pressed his hard, pulsing erection against your ass, making you moan loudly against the other man's lips.

The two bodies fit perfectly inside you, practically crushing you with their heat as you tried not to cum on O'Hara's fingers, but the effort was in vain as you felt him easily reach your cervix. You felt one of Peter's fingers soon find your other hole, making you moan even more against his lips.

"That's it, my spider boy. Show us how much you want it." The voices mixed together as you felt like you were going to explode at any moment and it actually happened ── you came, squirting onto Miguel's forearm and dripping onto the floor as all your muscles contracted involuntarily.

"I knew it was going to be a fucking squirt." The spider leader said, laughing, as you left for the next step ── you just left yourself there, your body for the two of them to use as they wanted, you just wanted to feel good and they would guarantee that.

With careful coordination and chemistry between the three of you, you found yourself sitting on Peter's lap, your back pressed against his chest as he guided his cock to your tight hole. Meanwhile, Miguel positioned himself at your front, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered your dripping pussy. "Te ves tan hermoso."

Peter couldn't help but let out a groan of satisfaction as he finally buried his cock deep inside your tight ass, the feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness was overwhelming for him, he had to fight against the urge to just thrust into you with abandon. Instead, he took deep breaths to steady himself, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, you feel incredible, baby boy. So tight and eager for me... You wanted that, didn't you? Being filled by two dicks, a greedy, needy boy..."

Miguel's primal instincts took over as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock, the blissful sensation causing a guttural moan to escape his lips. "I'm going to breed in that beautiful pussy of yours, boy... You're going to be our breed whore... We're going to always leave you full of cum, in that beautiful hole of yours." Miguel's hips moved in sync with Peter's, his thrusts gaining speed and force as he aimed to push you over the edge. "So beautiful and obedient, If you continue like this, being a good boy will be rewarded ok?.." the older man moaned as you felt Peter and Miguel's cocks stretch you to the edge, letting you drool on both of their cocks like an animal in heat. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you moaned their names. Parker and O'Hara continued their relentless thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and riding the waves of your ecstasy, but they hadn't stopped yet. Peter's thrusts grew more frantic as he felt your body convulse under him, the pleasure building within him as well. He knew that his release wasn't far behind.

"You're so damn tight, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna come--" His voice was filled with a mix of pleasure and urgency as he increased the pace of his thrusts. O'Hara felt his own release drawing near, your tight pussy milking his cock with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hips tightened as he neared his own climax. "Holy shit little boy, you're really going to get pregnant with us, aren't you?" As both men reached their climaxes, they filled you with their seed. Peter's hot cum filled your tight ass, while Miguel's release spilled into your pussy, marking you as theirs. Their bodies shuddered as they reached their peaks, their gazes locked on yours. Nothing needed to be phallus, not when both of your eyes reflected their red, sickly hearts, surrounded by possession and pleasure for you.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

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(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

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@kiyomi-uchiha777

[plussizeficchick]

Silver Linings Playbook | Shigaraki x Chubby! Reader

Summary; Shiggy’s got a dirty secret and well, you’ll make the most of it.

Warnings; smut, sub! Shigaraki/dom! reader, P in V, panty sniffing(quite a bit), masturbation, spit kink, scent kink? (Not proofread)

Sn: this was originally requested by anon but I could never do the request justice fr, but I hope you like it!

He knows he’s utterly depraved, but he can’t help himself.

Ever since he’d first stumbled upon your discarded underwear, he’d made it a habit to pick up the piece of fabric.

At first, he hadn’t even thought of sniffing them, content with the feel of it rubbing against his aching cock, imagining it was you sliding up and down his dick. He thought of cumming into the fabric, before having you step into them, his warm seed settling onto your cunt. The perverseness of it.

But then, during one of usual escapades, he accidentally dropped the sullied undergarment on his face. The scent of your juices sent a shiver down his spine and it didn’t take long before his cock was pulsing, body tensing as his cum splattered against his abdomen.

He needed more.

— —

You enjoyed this little cat and mouse game you were playing. 

At first, you were a bit annoyed. He stole some of your favorite pairs! But after a while, you began to feel flattered. 

It’s not often you find out your boss uses your panties to get off.

So you decided to indulge him, even occasionally rubbing your clit through the material, your juices leaving behind a sticky mess. However, you were starting to become restless.

It might be time to make things a bit more interesting.

— —

You figured the best way to get what you want is to “stumble” on him snatching them up, and you knew just when to do it.

Typically, you and Toga would head out, steal a few things you’d had your eyes on, stir up some trouble for some heroes then find your way back. Enough time to slip in and out, his prize tucked securely in his pocket.

So imagine his surprise when just as he’s about to pick up the heavenly piece of fabric, he hears your voice behind him.

“Well, well, well. What’s this we have here? Boss man stealing my panties?” You tsk, circling him. He avoids eye contact, ashamed at being caught red-handed. “I was just-” “What do you do with them?” You interrupt. Shigaraki stares up at you aghast, sputtering over his words, “W-what? I- you-” You cup his chin, focusing his gaze on you, “I said, what do you do with them? Show me.” 

You walk towards your bed, situating yourself comfortably, patiently waiting for the show to begin.

Shigaraki is nervous, of course he is, but his cock has also never been harder, your words going straight to his dick. He takes his time, slowly peeling away his shirt, and jeans, but he hesitates when he gets to his boxers. “Give them to me.” He hears you say, no, demand. He bristles, looking up at you with wide eyes, seemingly just noticing you’ve forgone your clothes too. “What? You can have mine, but I can’t have yours? Hand it over.” 

His dick twitches.

He slowly removes them, standing to put them in your outstretched hand. “Well? Give me a show.” You instruct, practically shooing him away from you. He grabs the panties he was planning to steal from you, the cute white ones with the little bow on the front, but now he wishes he’d waited, the pink thong practically riding up your pussy lips looking much more appetizing. 

He teases himself first, brushing his fingers sparingly over the tip, pre oozing along his fingers. He shudders, wishing desperately it was you touching him, even just a kiss.

He settles for bunching up your panties against his nose, spreading the pre-cum from the tip to the base of his cock, pulling a small hiss from himself. God, you smelt heavenly, it was a scent he never wanted to go without, wanted it on his face all the time.

He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes till they shot open at the sound of you moaning, the sound pulling his attention and fuck, you were a sight to see.

You were rutting into your hand, rubbing your pussy through your panties as you watched your boss get off to your panties. It was so utterly debauched, the sight of your cunt soaking through your panties, the wetness sticking to your fingers. He wanted to taste it. He was so fucking close.

“Stop.” He felt his world crash around him.

“Wh- why?” He practically sobs. He was right there! “Because, baby,” You say, peeling the ruined piece of fabric off. “I want you cumming in me.”

He could cry.

Shigaraki wastes no time, practically jumping into the bed before you stop him. “Wanna ride you.” Is all you say before climbing on top. 

You sink down on him slowly, easing his cock into your slick cunt before rolling your hips, setting a steady pace. He’s panting, the feeling of your velvety walls sucking him in earnestly stealing his breath away.

He loses his mind when you start bouncing on him, your tits jiggling tantalizingly in his face. “Suck on them, make me feel good, Shiggy.” And that’s all he needs to hear.

He wraps his arms around your plump waist, holding you steady against him as he pumps himself inside you, his cock slamming deliciously into your g-spot. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue laving over a bud, his teeth grazing it slightly. Your pussy clenches, the wet schlick! sound from your combined union somehow making you hotter, the coil in both your stomachs getting that much tighter. You pull him from your nipple, bringing him into a hot kiss, your tongues dancing together as you moan into each other's mouths. “Cum for me, please.” He practically begs, his cock near to bursting.

With those words the coil snaps, your orgasm washing over you like a wave as your pussy tightens up on him. You can hardly manage to form a sentence, but there’s only one coherent thought on your mind.

Shigaraki doesn’t realize what’s happened until he feels you run a thumb along his bottom lip, his mouth automatically opening for you. You open your mouth, a glob of spit trailing from your mouth to his before you take your soaked thong and bunch it into his mouth, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips. “Cum for me, Shiggy.” 

He’s never seen stars quite like this before.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[blqstar]

HI BABES<3!!! Can you please please please, write something for a sub!yan Izuku and mean reader 🤭, literally my favorite thing to read! But if not, I just wanna say I love your writing!

ofc, poota butt! and thank you so much, i’m glad you love my writing. i hope this is worth your while, love 🤍

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ CONTENT WARNINGS: nsfw (17+) , yandere themes , sub!yan!izuku , dom!mean reader , oral (f!recieving) , mention of anal fingering , zuku being delulu and v obsessive , honestly not proofread lmaoo

pro!hero izuku midoriya. majority know him as a strong and reliable leading figure, with his strength and intelligence being respected equally. but the man you knew him to be was the total opposite. here he kneels in front of you, lapping up your cunt with your juices, never taking his pleading eyes off of you.

izuku was a total creep. always watching you through darkened corners and small windows, following you everywhere you went no matter if other bystanders watched him in suspicion. he was a major stalker. and with being the obsessive freak he is, you wanted to mess with his head so bad, to the point where he completely crumbles to the slightest amount of attention you give him.

you wanted to use him for all his worth. izuku doesn’t care if you’re the nicest child of god or the meanest bitch on earth. all he wants is for you to notice him, acknowledge him— be something worth your while. And what if you spent that ‘while’ making him spread his legs and finger himself while you watched? who is he to try and stop you?

if he can’t be with you, at least he can make himself useful. if you say that all he’s good for is eating that pussy of yours, who is he to oblige? as long as he’s good for something.

it was just fun and games at first. using the stalker, letting him trip over himself by the fact that you were actually paying attention to him. but the more and more these activities kept going on, the more and more you found yourself becoming fond of the man.

your conscience told you to get outta there, that playing with someone’s feelings was just dead wrong. but it was just too entertaining for you to run away. who else would let you treat them like a little doggy on a leash? no one else but him. that’s why you felt that izuku was a more…special case that needed to be explored to the lowest depths. for your satisfaction, of course.

“i promise to show you i’m worth somethin’ to you….please…don’t leave me, i won’t be able..to live without you.” he says, his hot breath hitting your lips as izuku continues to slurp away at your clit.

your legs shake at the hot breeze, your hand rushing down to hold the back of his head. you can only sigh at his words, pushing his head down a little more.

he savors every swipe of his pink tongue over your abundant slick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to, and with a hitch of his breath, tears spring to his eyes when he thinks in the slightest that it might be.

if it wasn’t good, you woulda left ‘em already.

[exhaslo]

Hi! I love your writing, especially what you wrote throughout Kinktober. I like to request something involving Miguel O’Hara.

So back on Day 30 of your Kinktober where you posted Villain!Miguel, it got me feeling things after reading the whole fic. Then a “What If” scenario came to mind: what if Spider!Fem!Reader was able to win the battle against Villain!Miguel and she would kidnap him this time to gather intel about Alchemax’s shady business practices (because she already knew the villainous Spider-Man is Miguel under the mask). While trying every way for Miguel to open up, but won’t budge unless he pleads a deal.

He’ll open up…if Spider!Fem!Reader has sex with him. Deal is sealed but the heroine warns the villain if he tries anything suspicious, he’ll receive more than pleasure.

- @club-danger-zone

Lissssssten, I read this at 3am when I woke up for work and been thinking about it ALLLLLLLL DAY!!!!!

Summary: Alternative Ending to Kinktober Day 30, Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader

Original Click Here

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, corruption, dirty talk, p in v, restraints, rough sex, overstimulation, manipulation, wannabedom!reader

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Everything happened so fast that you were still trying to process what had happened. You were responding to a new threat at Alchemax when it started. A new, strong and dangerous villain had appeared, but to your concerned surprise, it was none other than your psycho coworker, Miguel O'Hara.

Miguel was the son of Alchemax's own CEO, Tyler Stone. The proud and cruel son who shared his father's ideals. You had been Miguel's coworker for years and knew how crazy he could be. Miguel was obsessed with studying the genetic makeup of some of the heroes from the Golden Hero Age. Particularly, Spiderman.

Miguel tested on people without a care. One of his experiments ended up accidently biting you, turning you into the hero Spider-Woman. It was hard, but you had to keep your secret from the madman. Miguel was like a mad scientist. What was worse, was that he finally tested on himself. That new threat you were responding too was none other than him.

"Just treat him like any other villain!" You told yourself.

Honestly, you were not prepared. Despite knowing how Miguel was, you couldn't help but fall for the bad boy troupe. Miguel was just so good looking. If he wasn't so crazy, you'd probably had asked him out. Hell, you always folded whenever he asked you to do something for him.

"Alright. Let's get this started," You finally said as you entered the room where Miguel was.

Miguel raised his head, giving that cold stare he usually had. His eyes were a beautiful red shade compared to normal. You wanted to ask him why he tested on himself. You wanted too, but taking down Alchemax was far more important.

"Tell me everything you know about Alchemax."

Miguel watched you with amusement. He had been trying to get you in his clutches since you first appeared. This was as close as he was going to get. Miguel wanted you as a test subject. Miguel let you beat him so he could get close to you. Licking his lips, Miguel observed you in person. That suit was tight against your skin. If only he could just touch you. If only he could study your blood.

"Miguel, focus." You demanded. Miguel returned his attention to you. That mask that covered the top half of your face, "If you cooperate, I might let you off easy."

"You already know my name," Miguel hummed lowly, leaning back in his seat. The restraints holding him back, "I'm honored."

"We can work this out," You sighed softly, seeing that he was being unreasonable, "I'm sure-"

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine." Miguel said with a cruel smirk.

You had to be someone he knew. He could sense it. Furrowing his brows, Miguel noticed that his sense of smell had become stronger. This was getting interesting.

"D-Depends on the questions." You told him, biting your lower lip.

Miguel's eyes sparkled. There was one person who would bite their lip whenever they got nervous. Miguel inhaled deeply as he felt excitement run through his veins. It seemed like he was going to get his experiment after all.

"Oh, (Y/N), you've been keeping this secret from me this whole time? I gotta say, I'm a little hurt." Miguel's tone was cruel as he watched you flinch.

"N-Now we're getting off topic. Alchemax has been-"

"(Y/N)," Miguel changed his tone into a sweeter one, knowing how to manipulate you, "Why don't I answer all your questions if you just do me one little thing."

"T-That's not my name, b-but what is it?" You stuttered.

Miguel noticed your scent change into something sweet. His pupils dilated as he felt something in him grow hungry. Yes, this was a good reaction. Miguel was going to play his game.

"I'll tell you everything if you have sex with me." He told you, his words dripping like honey.

"Se-" Oh, you were folding.

Your heart nearly stopped as you tried to come up with a proper response. You had only imagined a moment like this. The amount of nights you masterbated to the thought. Slowly approaching Miguel, you knew that this was a horrible idea. What hero would give in to a villain? What hero would willingly have sex with an enemy?

"F-Fine! But if you try anything, I'll make sure that you'll receive more than just...pleasure," You huffed.

Honestly, you were nervous. What the hell could you do to him if he tried to make a move? Not wanting to think about that, you just played along. You were going to be the dominator in this moment. Miguel was tied up to the chair.

"Would you take your mask off for me?"

"Don't push it."

You fixed your hair, getting on your knees to undo his feet restraints. Despite Miguel being evil, you still wanted him to be comfortable for this. Once you loosen the restraints a little, you proceeded to undo his pants. Your fingers trembled as you stared at his large erection. He had already gotten hard just from asking you!

Miguel watched you in amusement. You smelled so scared, yet so sweet. You slowly stroked his dick as you undid a small, hidden zipper from your suit. Miguel's smirk widen,

"A zipper?" He questioned with a low groan. You pressed his tip, biting your lower lip,

"Y-You try going to the bathroom with this on! I had to make adjustments!" You huffed.

Once you thought you were ready, you sat against Miguel's lap and tried to slid onto his dick. You whimpered, unable to do so. Miguel leaned his head into your neck, inhaling your neck. You gasped lowly as he licked your cheek. You could feel fangs. Miguel never had fangs. You tried to move away, but Miguel nibbled against your suit,

"It's never going to fit unless you let me help, carino (sweetheart)" Miguel groaned lowly. You whimpered as you decided to rub your hips against his dick,

"I-I'm taking control."

"I don't think you can," Miguel's tone turned cruel once more as he grazed his fangs against your suit, "You smell so sweet. All for me."

"Don't flatter yourself," You gasped lowly as you started to get into the pleasure, "T-This is just...for information."

"Sure, (Y/N). My little (Y/N), the super hero. The perfect test subject right in the palm of my hand."

"S-Stop...c-calling me that," You begged.

Every time Miguel said you name, it sent shivers down your spine. Once more, you tried to slid his cock inside you. You whined and cried out as you managed to fit the tip inside your tight pussy. He was too big and you were not prepped enough, but you had to try. If you let him go, who knows what he would do.

"Treat this like another battle, (Y'N). You can handle it. If not, I might have to fight back."

You yelped as Miguel thrusted his hips up ever so slightly. Your walls tighten around his tip, begging him to wait. You were supposed to take control. You had to take care of this. You could only whimper and cry as you finally fit him fully inside you.

"What a perfect fit. Aren't you a good little test subject." Miguel whispered in your ear as you held onto him, "Now start moving. You owe me for keeping this secret, (Y/N)."

"M-Miguel...I...I said..." You whined as you started to bounce against his cock, "A-Ah~ Hah~ I-I'm in...mhm...c-charge."

Each time you bounced against his dick, you felt your body jolt in pleasure. Drool nearly rolled down your mouth as you started to ride him faster. His dick hitting your cervix with each thrust. Fireworks went off in your brain as you felt a hot, tight knot about to explode.

"That's right, (Y/N), you were made just for me." Miguel used his teeth to pull your mask down. Your fucked out expression turned him on more, "This chemistry we share must be explored more!"

"M-Miguel~!" You cried out, shaking as you reached your orgasm. Miguel licked his lips as he kept moving his hips, thrusting inside you,

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, (Y/N), you just have to keep up your end of the deal. You will, won't you? Or do heroes lie?" He said with a devilish smirk.

"Y-Yes! I-I will!"

You moaned softly as you felt Miguel cum inside you. Your vision blurred slightly before you calmed down from your high. Gasping, you immediately fixed you mask and scooted off of his lap. You fixed yourself up and gave him a slight shock from one of your web shooters. Miguel hissed in pain,

"I-I told you I would punish you if you tried something!" You cried out, huffing your cheeks out. Miguel just chuckled,

"I'm a Villain, did you really expect me to play fair?"

You whined softly, but to your surprise, Miguel did share some information with you. He only gave you a little bit and told you that if you wanted more, you had to keep meeting him. You were hesitant at first, but you kept telling yourself what was the harm?

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"You've gotten used to this, huh, (Y/N)? Can't do anything without this villain's dick inside you?" Miguel whispered harshly as he pounded your pussy from behind. You held onto the wall, moaning loudly from pleasure,

"T-This is j-just f-for information-" You tried to say. Miguel just roared in laughter as he held your hips higher, slapping himself into you,

"Sure. Just admit that you can't do anything with me. I'm the villain who corrupted you."

"N-No, t-this....this is f-for ah~ w-wait...s'much..." You cried out as Miguel started to pinch your clit, "M-Miguel...I-I said-"

"That I can do what I want as long as I help you arrest my father. I'm doing a good deed here,"

Miguel just watched you break under him. The amount of orgasms he had drawn out of you this past week alone was an accomplishment. The amount of times you kept coming back to him for more 'information' was just delicious. This was a game he wanted you to believe that you were winning.

Giving you another load of his cum, Miguel watched in amusement as your body twitched for more. He pushed his fingers inside you, wanting to keep the cum inside. Miguel wanted to experiment with you more. With a lick of his lips, he leaned towards your ear,

"You know, after I help you arrest my father, you're still going to need information to take down other big bads." You whined, trying to move away from him,

"I-I will be the judge of that. Who's to say I won't have you arrested?" You warned, moving away to fix your zipper. Miguel just laughed in response,

"You would never."

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Gosh, I can't wait to write the Villain!Miguel series!!!

[intricatedemonicrituals]

Canon Destiel Timeline Masterpost

I wrote this all in a fugue state while listening to Green Grow the Lilacs on repeat so forgive any mistakes. @gay-fae ask and ye shall receive

So much has happened in the long and storied history of his fandom so I've decided to try to document it. I've started by looking up every time that canon destiel, destiel event, misha collins, jackles, or some other search terms have spiked on Google and cross referenced them with tumblr or twitter posts from that day. I know a lot of this is Misha stuff, but he does tend to be the one to say things

November 5th, 2020: Season 15, Episode 18 "Despair" airs and Castiel declares his love to Dean. The presidential election, Georgia turning blue, the presumed retirement of Vladamir Putin, Dabi from My Hero Academia, Ouran Host Club season 2, Sherlock season 5, the president of Bolivia being attacked with dynamite, ongoing BLM protests, a twitter artist making racist art of Ted Bundy, Hetalia returning, a dead man being elected Representative for North Dakota, V for Vendetta, scientists discovering a "hell" planet that rains rocks and has lava oceans, and half of Europe being in lockdown all became tumblr news around the same time. Some of these are true, some not.

November 8th, 2020: Misha Collins, in a panel with Richard Speight, states that the confession scene was a "declaration of homosexual love", and that when Castiel goes to the Empty, it is an example of the "Kill your gays" trope.

November 19th, 2020: The finale airs and it is not well loved to say the least. The episode is short, Dean dies by falling on a nail to death fighting vampire clowns, and there are several characters left with dangling unresolved plot threads and arcs, including Castiel. The car is in heaven though. There is very little heard from the cast and crew, if anything.

November 22nd, 2020: Misha Collins, in a livestream, tells a fan that Castiel and Jack are remaking heaven together, Cas has his wings back, and they are rainbow-colored. He had, however, mentioned the rainbow wings before.

November 24th, 2020: The Spanish dub of the confession is released and a "rogue" translator has written "Y yo a ti" or "I love you too" as Dean's response. Destiel goes canon in Spanish. Tumblr stops working as a result.

November 25th, 2020: tumblr user @thebloggerbloggerfun claims Jensen Ackles said "I had a member of the film crew record the confession scene on my phone for me" #unsourced #releasethetapes

November 26th, 2020: Misha doesn't appreciate the rogue translator, but walks that opinion back later the same day

November 27th, 2020: A "leaked" Italian dub of the confession scene shows a mutual confession.

November 28th, 2020: President Obama follows a destiel account on Twitter

November 30th, 2020: The supposed "Italian dub" is revealed as a fake created by user @iotiamo using sound clips from other parts of the Italian dub on show.

December 1st, 2020: Twitter user @mothdean says "misha I know you have a stan acc and spy on us so can we have a hazel update please"

December 3rd, 2020: Misha tweets about Hazel snoring and this is taken as possible confirmation of Misha's secret stan account

December 11th, 2020: A script from Cas's perspective leaks. It says "We see Cass's POV of Dean again - his face drawn, drained of hope. But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester."

December 16th, 2020: Newsweek runs an article about an article that Misha wrote about the Lewinsky affair while interning in the Clinton White House in which Misha comes off as rather thirsty for Bill

December 20th, 2020: All Supernatural related materials disappear off the CW's website due to a copyright dispute with Warner Brothers

December 31st, 2020: Mishapocalypse redux

February 9th, 2021: Spn cast members Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris tweet about a party at the Roadhouse and it grows to become a full Destiel wedding

February 16th, 2021: @steveyockey made a fairly benign post about Jensen Ackles. The notes went wild in a variety of ways and started a rumor that Spn writer Steve Yockey was dead

February 20th, 2021: Steve Yockey is not dead and he should say it

March 3rd, 2021: The German dub drops and it is also romantic in tone

March 6-8th, 2021: A virtual con happens where Jensen discusses Chaos Machine and Jared says he wants to be in their next project. They also show that WAP video. Jensen is giving full mountain man preparing to play Soldier Boy.

March 10th, 2021: The French dub is released. Cas says, "I love you, Dean" and Dean now responds, "Don't do this to me, Castiel"

March 13th, 2021: The company Amazon tweets about Castiel and Misha Collins asks if they ship Deancas or Wincest. Subsequently apologizes.

March 16th, 2021: Misha says he can't speak as Castiel because Warner Brothers" specifically forbade it. #cwsniperconfirmed

March 17th, 2021: Sam and Eileen are getting married! I have no idea how this came about but I'm happy for them

March 23rd, 2021: Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris claim on Twitter that the Roadhouse party was about Valentine's day and not a wedding. Ferris specifically said that she worked on the show and that people tried to make Dean/Cas into "something that it wasn't", She also stated she doesn't "know what queerbaiting is" and that it was due to an "agenda". This led to #deanisbi trending on Twitter and Tumblr.

March 31st, 2021: Some possibly fake leaked scripts come up for sale on eBay. Also, Jensen is Batman.

April 1st, 2021: Mishapocalypse redux

April 6th, 2021: Leaked scripts from the 2 final episodes pop up and have several mentions of Cas in them that were omitted. Dean even thinks about Cas's confession when confronting Chuck.

April 18th, 2021: Scripts from seasons 12 and 13 leak. These include scenes from after Cas's death

May 17th, 2021: Jensen's band Radio Company releases an album including the song Watching Over Me

June ~5th, 2021: Misha says at a convention that Watching Over Me is about Castiel. Jensen neither confirms nor denies this when asked about it

June 11th, 2021: It is announced that Misha is publishing a book of poetry

June 18th, 2021: The Russian dub airs and Dean's line is changed to "Don't you dare, Cas"

June 24-28th, 2021: Jensen and Daneel Ackles reveal that they are making a Supernatural prequel series following John and Mary Winchester (a story that NOBODY was asking for). Jensen will reprise his role as Dean and will narrate. Misha hints that he would like to be involved, as do Ruthie Connell, Samantha Ferris, Matt Cohen, and Julie McNiven (the perils of having a cast of mostly immortal characters). But Jared Padalecki first says that he is happy for the Ackles's, he later said he was "gutted", then responded to Robbie Thompson's tweet calling him a "coward" and saying "what an awful thing you've done". The next day, Jensen and Jared both do damage control and say they'll always be brothers

July 17th, 2021: People are asking if Destiel will be canon in Space Jam, Misha's poetry book's cover is revealed to lukewarm reviews and people are talking about a particular poem about piss, and Perfume Genius releases an article that is a self-insert vore fanfiction about having sex with Jensen Ackles

August 2nd, 2021: Perfume Genius is at it again with "Last Friday, I had my eyes removed by Jared Padalecki". No, I do not know why she is doing this.

August 9th, 2021: Destiel fics hit 100k on Ao3. Misha tweets his support and people remember that he sometimes reads fanfiction and theorize he has an A03 account

September 1st, 2021: Misha makes his first Tiktok. There is a short intro before he calls cut, walks behind a screen, and strips his clothes off

September 3rd, 2021: Jake Abel uses Michael and Adam to help sell his hot sauce brand

September 4th, 2021: Misha confirms that the love between Castiel and Dean was "reciprocated"

September 9th, 2021: A clip of the real Italian dub of the confession scene goes viral as it is revealed that, unlike the Spanish dub, they change the line to "ti voglio bene" or essentially "I love you like family". Misha responds with a video saying "Ciao Italia, ti amo" with the subtitle "Love is love in any language"

September 21st, 2021: Misha drops the fact that one of his poems is from Castiel's perspective.

September 30th, 2021: Jensen will be appearing at a con on the same day as Misha and not with Jared for "professional reasons"

October 4th, 2021: Misha responds to a fan's tweet by saying that Jensen has "crazy eyes and a knife in his pocket"

October 10th, 2021: Daneel posts a picture of Jensen intently reading Misha's poetry book in front of a roaring fire on Instagram. Misha responds that he misses them even more

October 12th, 2021: Jensen is cast in Rust, a (rather ill-fated) western and Misha says "Yippie-ki-yay" and calls him a stud in the comments

October 16th, 2021: Denvercon. Jensen and Jared reunite for the first time since THE INCIDENT

April 24th, 2022: Misha Collins says in terms of being an extrovert, an introvert, or a bisexual, he joked "I'm all three". This led to the internet celebrating Misha's newly revealed bisexuality.

April 25th, 2022: Misha Collins comes out as straight. Oops!

June 19th, 2022: According to Misha, Dean's heaven was supposed to be at the Roadhouse with all his friends and Cas was going to be there with him

November 7th, 2022: Misha calls Elon Musk a snowflake

November 12th, 2022: Tumblr starts planning another Mishapocalypse

January 24th, 2023: Jensen and the cast of the Winchesters throw Dean Winchester a birthday party, including wearing silly little hats

February 26th, 2023: At JIBcon 11, Jensen sings an improvised song about an angel while Misha sits cross-legged on the floor looking up at him

April 1st, 2023: 10 year anniversary of the Mishapocalypse

April 16th, 2023: A year after his bisexual whoopsie daisy, Misha says that Warner Brothers asked him to "let it go" and keep pretending to be bisexual.

August 23, 2023: Rogue Spanish translator is revealed to not have gone rogue at all but instead to have followed the script he was given, confirming the existence of a mutual love confession that was cut at some point.

If you can remember any events and dates that I haven't found, please let me know and I'll add them! I haven't really rounded out 2022 and 2023 yet.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Sorry... Not Sorry

Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Smoking, Male masterbation, Drug and Booze use, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Orgasm denial, Dirty talk, Language

Summary: You work with the boys to fulfill Butchers mission. Your family, like MM's, were killed by Soldier Boy. The only difference, you aren't mad about it. Your family was terrible and you constantly suffered at their hands. When you all find Soldier Boy, you offer to be his babysitter, only your attraction for the older supe might be too strong to fight.

Masterlist | Patreon

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He escaped you in Russia, only to track him to The Legend's house. You aren't a supe so for the most part you hang back when they go fight. Butcher always had a soft spot for you.

When it comes to Soldier Boy however, you willing volunteered to babysit the nuclear powered superhero. Everyone was reluctant at first. You're the youngest of the group, but you weren't backing down. Not this time.

Eventually Butcher agreed, which led you here. Some old man's house who wants to relive the glory days. Any other day I would pretend to listen, just not today. I am on a mission.

I walk towards the room The Legend informed me he would be in. Whatever I was expecting to find on the other side of the door, orgy, some chick giving him head, was not what I found.

His back was facing the door when I opened the handle. Wildly designed silk robe hiding his body from my lust filled eyes. Leg proped up on the bed frame. His whole body moving as he grunts from the pleasure his hand was providing his dick.

A very well endowed dick if I remember Russia correctly.

My body begins to heat, my underwear quickly becoming damp from my own private show, breathing coming in fast shallow pants.

Forgetting he had super hearing, Soldier Boy rips a surprised gasp from me when he speaks into the quiet room, "I can practically smell your sopping cunt from here Pretty Girl."

He doesn't turn or even stop his movements. Though you do notice he has slowed to a lazy rhythm. No longer chasing a quick orgasm.

Closing the door behind you you take one step at a time towards the powerful man infront of you. A man who I'm positive can spit me in half with one powerful thrusts into my heat.

Oh what a way to die.

By now you're standing right behind him fighting the urge to touch him. In a blink of an eye he swings around to come face to face with me.

We are in the middle of a staring contest. Him wondering my next move. Me wondering if I even have the nerve to follow through with anything.

Now or never I guess. This is one way to thank him for saving me. I know he hurt a lot of people and is the ultimate asshole, but to me he's a hero.

With a wave of bravery rushing through my veins, I step up and wrap my hand around his huge cock. My tiny hand barely touching as I begin to slide it up and down his shaft.

Soldier Boy throws his head back from the contact. Long, messy hair shining as te sun hits him just right. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through it. I know I've got him when I hear a deep moan leave his kissable lips.

"Been a long time since a beauty such as yourself has touched me, Doll."

I still can't speak. His husky voice drips of honey when he's aroused, eye's that were once shining green are now hooded and black with lust. The man's beautiful on any given day, but when he's in a stage of bliss, he's breathtaking.

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Strong, long, thick fingers move rapidly inside me as Soldier Boy brings me to the edge again. Pistoling straight into my g spot repeatedly.

"You're stunning when you're fucked out and frustrated, Doll." He removes his fingers from my soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. My pussy clenching around nothing.

"Mmm... taste sweet." Rolling on top of his naked body I rub my wet center up his length while sinking my tongue into his mouth. Stunned for a moment from surprise before he begins to kiss me back... hard.

Breaking away I lift my body and grab his leaking cock before impaling myself on his perfect dick.

I was right, he's going to split me in half. It burns as he stretches me to my limit. Never had a cock this good. I can feel every vein as I slipped farther down his shaft.

Bottoming out I stay still waiting for my body to adjust. Feeling my velvet walls flutter around him as they fight to accept his size. He shifts slightly sending electricity shooting through my body, another wave of arousal soaks his dick.

"Soldier Boy..."

Laughing he leans up, wrapping a strong arm protectively around my waist as he kisses me sweetly. "Sweetheart I'm balls deep in your sopping cunt right now, pretty sure you can call me Ben." Then he thrusts into me, hitting my cervix.

"Ben..." is all I can moan as he takes control of my body.

"That’s my Pretty Girl. Scream it baby, my names never sounded so sweet before."

His pace quickens sending me into my first orgasm. Clenching him so tight I'm amazed he can still move as he fucks me through it. "Squeezing my cock so good."

Ben watches where our bodies are join, "this pussy is drooling Doll. Making such a pretty mess of my dick." I tighten around him, "oh fuck yes..."

"Got one more in there for me baby girl." It wasn't a question. He brings his rough hands to my bundle of nerves and starts to vigorously rub me there.

My orgasm build fast and hard. Just as I'm think I'm about to be thrown over the edge a new sensation comes over me, "shit... Ben you have to st.. stop. I.. I think I'm go.. going to pee."

He doesn't listen. If anything the statement makes him feral as he double downs his efforts. Then it happens. My body let's go, vision goes white as I scream his name as loud as I can before slumping into his chest.

What feels like hours goes by, but I'm sure it's minutes, before I feel someone gently finger my pussy. Whimpering I hear a dark chuckle beside me.

"That was fucking hot Doll." Ben holds me to his chest as he lazily plays with my pussy and our mess, "I'm far from done with you, sleep for now."

"You should have known better than to try and tease me. Best damn pussy I've had... just might have to keep you now." He gently bites my ear lope.

Through my blessed out haze I weakly smile before whispering, "Sorry... not sorry."

I fall asleep in his warm embrace with his laughter as my lullaby and his fingers bringing small waves of pleasure every once in a while.

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Taglist:

@syrma-sensei

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

[melrosing]

a while back you mentioned bran being a fisher king type of figure if he becomes king. i am so intrigued by that concept. can you tell us more?

so full disclosure, I don't have a great deal of familiarity with Arthurian legend or British/Welsh mythology, which is what the Fisher King really draws upon, so I don't think I can say anything of real substance on this subject! i keep meaning to just sit down and swot up on this stuff but it's. not really something you can do in one sitting lol

HOWEVER i think even to a wiki peruser it's patently clear that GRRM is drawing on the Fisher King concept with Bran (as in, once you know he's doing that, you realise he isn't even trying to hide it). and I do tend to think that GRRM is more likely to stick with the top line of a myth or historical event he means to parallel rather than get lost in the minutiae - e.g. Matilda v Stephen succession crisis inspiring Rhaenyra v Aegon, the Black Dinner of 1440 inspiring the Red Wedding, this is GRRM taking the substance of an event but not the details of how it came to pass.

I'm going to guess that rather than getting into the finer details of the Fisher King mythos, GRRM is going to utilise it much like he's used Shakespeare's Richard III for Tyrion, which is another inspiration that seems painfully obvious from the moment you spot it, but is hardly lifted beat for beat, and I seriously doubt that Tyrion's story ends up anywhere like the end of RIII. but you can see GRRM taking the bits and pieces of RIII he finds interesting and twisting them for Tyrion in ASOIAF.

so with that in mind, I'm just going to quickly list the key points I can personally gather from the Fisher King myth that seem to gesture to Bran, and why I think these are probs interesting to GRRM as a writer (but as I say there are people who know lots about arthurian legend and british/welsh mythology who would probs have a lot more to say here):

the Fisher King is usually depicted as being wounded in the groin/legs/thigh - this is considered synonymous with his inability to have children and so propagate his line. immediately obvious parallel to Bran, and I think through both ASOIAF and F&B, GRRM is trying to show that ruling through dynasties where everything hinges on how the next guy's son turns out, is not a viable way to run a country. Bran will not be succeeded by children of his own blood, but I think much in the way that he himself has succeeded Bloodraven

the Fisher King is one with his land as such: his welfare is the welfare of the land, and when he takes a wound (and becomes infertile), the land too becomes barren. the Fisher King awaits a hero who will heal and restore him and so the land (but I can only imagine GRRM would subvert this - it's clear through GRRM's writing of disability that he doesn't see value in just 'curing' his characters. he wants to actually write them as disabled people). and I think there's a lot in Bran's story about man learning to respect the land he lives upon - the children and the first men's peace pact was agreed upon the grounds that the first men would essentially preserve Westeros and its weirwoods etc, and so I think it's generally agreed ASOIAF could end with a similar kind of pact to end the Long Night (or after the end of TLN)? so again, think this point is about Bran representing a renewed relationship between the lands of Westeros and its peoples - the welfare of all is tied together through him

the Fisher King is guarding the Holy Grail. im way out of my depth on this point, someone with more knowledge re. the Holy Grail needs to weigh in here lol, but I would guessssss that maybe this has something to do with Bran ending the story on the Isle of Faces, protecting the peace from there or SOMETHING idk

then the most obvious point: the Fisher King as he appears in Arthurian legend is thought to draw on the figure of Brân the Blessed, a character of Welsh mythology - which immediately recalls Bran the Broken (something Bran literally calls himself several times). the name 'Bran' also translates to crow or raven in Welsh, so, duh. and Brân the Blessed's story ends with his requesting that his head be buried on the White Hill of London - and as long as it remained there, Britain would be safe from invasion. more about Bran being tied directly to the welfare of the land and its peoples

(again there's doubtless a lot more that could be added here by someone who understands the Fisher King myth better than I do, but these seemed like the most obvious points that anyone could draw on)

anyway I absolutely take it as a given that Bran will be King at this point, and whilst it's really hard to imagine what that looks like, I do think it resonates. GRRM likes writing about dynasties but I don't think he believes in them. I'm sure he feels much the same way about feudalism, but I doubt that will be gone by the end of ASOIAF, too, so this is how I picture it??

KL: destroyed. red keep: fucked. some level of politics may continue here post-series, but I think it will no longer be the heart of westeros. the fact that it is in AGOT is I think GRRM trying to show the corruption at the heart of this country - KL is constantly described as a cesspit where the rich play their games and live and eat luxuriously directly atop the shoulders of the poor and downtrodden, divorced from what's happening in the rest of the 7K.

the new heart of Westeros will be the Isle of Faces. this is where I think Bran will end up. we don't know much about it, bc noone is able to sail there, but this was where the pact between the COF and the First Men was created, and it's one of the last places in the south where weirwoods still grow (here, in abundance). and apparently there was once a Green King of the Gods Eye?? if the Green King, of the Rivermen, is in any way the role Bran will soon be occupying, maybe this is where his Tully heritage is somehow relevant. and also like 'god's eye', Bran's whole thing is about learning to see all, so. likely place for him to be. ultimately, I don't think Bran will remain in Winterfell; the story is supposed to be about unity I think, and not northern exceptionalism, so a remaining Stark sibling will take up that seat and as I said before, I tend to think that will be Sansa.

and I guess the most I can imagine beyond this point is Bran living alongside the COF (perhaps in the company of Meera idk?), functioning less as a political entity and more as a figurehead, perhaps an oracle, who lives for the welfare of his people. there will still be politicians to run the country, but they will be guided by Bran in some way, and like Bloodraven, Bran will choose his own successor. what the intricacies of any of this look like i have no idea, but this really does sound to me like the start of GRRM's answer to all his concerns re. dynasties and corruption etc etc

sorry this was all garbled as hell but this is basically what the Fisher King endgame means to me for now. in short, not a whole lot that I can make sense of but I like the feel of it, I think it's consistent with the themes of the text and suggests the start of real change at the end of the story, rather than the start of yet another dynasty.

[dr-spectre]

MY SPLATOON OCS!!!

Imma share my Splatoon ocs with you all. I have 6 of them to share and i hope you guys like them. I'll show you what their main outfit is, their secondary outfit, general info, likes, dislikes, favourite idols, stuff like that!

THIS IS A VERY LONG POST SO KEEP THAT IN MIND! I HAVE WARNED YOU!!!!!!!!!!

YOU READY?!? ENJOY!

Sunny

Age: 19, She/Her, Sexuality: Lesbian

Sunny is a 19 year old inkling who attends university. She's very peppy, energetic, outgoing and emotionally intelligent as she's able to pick up on peoples emotions very quickly. Sunny has a large circle of acquaintances but a small group of people she would actually consider friends. Her days are very busy as she juggles between university, hanging out with friends, engaging in hobbies and being with her mum, dad and younger sister.

Although she may seem bubbly and happy on the surface, deep down she has tons of spiraling thoughts in her head that she constantly tries to shut down by keeping herself busy, which leads to her being exhausted after each day. She cannot handle darkness and pure silence and needs nightlights and white noise to help her sleep.

Likes:

Shopping

Dress up

Fighting games

90s style Anime (not actual 90s anime, just anime in the style from our 90s in the splatoon world)

Sports/outdoor activities

Ice cold drinks and spicey food

Dislikes:

Bugs

Darkness

Cold weather

Birds

Loneliness

Country music

Favourite weapon: Hero shot

Favourite sub weapon: Burst Bomb

Favourite special: Trizooka

Favourite Idol: Frye - Loves her feisty personality and rooting for an underdog. She managed to grab a selfie with her out of sheer luck and has kept that photo ever since in her locker.

Fun trivia: She was the second Splatoon oc i came up with, i used a female Inkling for Splatoon 3 at launch and after making a gear set for competitive play, the idea of Sunny came into my brain and she was slowly developed from there.

V

Age: 20, He/Him, Sexuality: Heterosexual

V is a 20 year old Inkling who used to live in Inkopolis before moving to Splatsville after the Final Fest as it was cheaper to live there. He is quite shy and non-talkative most of the time and he genuinely likes to be by himself. However that doesn't mean he is rude, he's very caring and compassionate but he's not the best at expressing that kindness due to poor social skills.

He spends a lot of time in ranked matches to earn money where he grew a name for himself and his aggressive playstyle with his main being the Roller class. V used to do Salmon Runs as well before quitting after it became too stressful for him. When he's not doing turf war matches or ranked, he loves to lounge about, playing video games, listening to music and engaging in Idol content.

However, V is quite sensitive and any sort of comment or judgement from teammates in matches will make him shut himself off and try his hardest not to cry. He also has anger issues and can let his anger get the best of him. Due to him overusing the Kraken Royale special in matches, it gave him... unwanted side effects...

If he becomes too angry he will transform into a kraken and go on a rampage. Another side effect from abusing the Kraken Royale special is that he also has the ability to grow squid tentacles from anywhere on his body which he can control like arms. Although he doesn't use this ability in matches as it would get him into trouble.

Likes:

Video games/Video game collecting

High paced music (Drum and Bass)

Photography

Painting

Cold weather

Milkshakes

Dislikes:

Condescending people

Tight clothing

Flying insects

Most vegetables

Splattercolour screen

Unexpected routine changes

Favourite weapon: Splat Roller

Favourite sub weapon: Splat Bomb

Favourite special: Kraken Royale

Favourite Idol: Callie - Is a massive fan of hers and has tons of merch of her. His friends make fun of him for his obsession which makes V feel incredibly embarrassed and blush like no tomorrow. He sleeps with a Callie plushie every night to help himself fall asleep.

He even got to meet her during his birthday when he was out with some friends in Inkopolis Plaza. He was stuttering and was extremely nervous when talking to her, but Callie just wished him a happy birthday, gave him a hug and her signature on the inner part of his visor. She even told him that if he wants someone to talk to he can just knock on the window at Inkopolis Plaza, and he did just that the next day.

Fun trivia: V was the first Splatoon oc i made. He is based off of the Inkling i used to rock in Splatoon 2 and i developed a character based on that. the name "V" comes from the animal, vampire squid. The kraken and tentacle abilities he has are inspired by the Venom symbiote in Spider-Man media and the classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde dynamic in media.

Hapalo

Age: 21, He/Him, Sexuality: Asexual

Hapalo is a 21 year old Octoling born in the Octarian domes and was brought to the surface with his family when he was VERY young. He is a kind soul and brings a gentle vibe with him. He is very interested in Inkling culture and loves exploring and consuming new art, writing, movies, tv shows, music, etc. whenever he can. He also does poetry and other forms of writing to express himself. He even won writing competitions at school at Inkopolis and he still keeps those cheap plastic medals up on his wall.

Hapalo also works at a library where he sorts books and manages things. He sometimes reads stories to young Inklings and Octolings and he's always delighted to interact with them. He even sometimes sneaks in milk cartons for all of the kids when his supervisor isn't looking.

However, Hapalo is very against getting into arguments and anything too overwhelming. Anything that disrupts his chill mood makes him incredibly upset and he needs to be alone to calm down. He's also very sensitive to certain sounds, smells, tastes and textures.

Likes:

Writing

Movie nights

Sushi

Swimming (in Ink pools... not water)

Birds

Tableturf card collecting

Dislikes:

Arguments

Drinks with solids in them

Mayonnaise

Crowded spaces

Social media

Unorganised areas

Favourite weapon: Snipewriter 5H

Favourite sub weapon: Sprinkler

Favourite special: Tacticooler

Favourite Idol: Marina - Finds her cute and loves her style of music. He also finds some relatability in her as she's also an Octoling. He got to meet her during the Final Fest and they talked about Inkling and Octoling culture and art.

Fun trivia: Hapalo's name is based on the scientific name for a blue-ringed octopus Hapalochlaena lunulata. I came up with the idea of him based on the male Octoling that i used to use in Splatoon 2, however i only started developing him months back.

Bloom

Age: 20, She/Her, Sexuality: Bisexual

Bloom is a 20 year old Octoling who grew up in a chaotic household in Eeltail Alley with five younger brothers and a mother who has gotten pretty sick. She is pure chaos incarnate, she's extremely energetic, excitable, sassy and is always looking to get rough and dirty. Bloom is always out and about, riding an old motorbike, rock climbing and sneaking into gyms to work out for free as the memberships are too expensive for her. She even attends motorbike races and dirt bike competitions as a racer which gives her some decent cash.

Although she still comes home on time to take of her brothers and her mother. She has a kind heart but she won't miss an opportunity to push peoples buttons which can land her into trouble.

Bloom also has an interest in the water ever since she was a kid. She would often put her finger and other limbs in bodies of water to see how they would react to it.

However, she often acts very jokey and silly with others in order to hide pain she's feeling. Bloom worries about her mother constantly and dooms over if something bad is gonna happen to her and her brothers. She'll tend to isolate herself from others or be overly attached to her friends.

Likes:

Her family

Old machinery

Motorcycles

Working out

Dancing

Fizzy drinks

Dislikes:

School

Winter clothes

Sleep

Really sterile places

Charger mains

Choc mint ice cream

Favourite weapon: Luna Blaster

Favourite sub weapon: Fizzy Bomb

Favourite special: Zipcaster

Favourite Idol: Pearl - She loves listening to her raps and enjoys her spunky energy. Bloom managed to meet Pearl when Off the Hook were touring near Splatsville. Pearl took a breather and that's when Bloom found her and said how much she loves her music and how she's a big fan. Pearl was a little put off by her energy at first but eventually warmed up to the excited Octoling and gave her a fist bump and a thank you.

Fun trivia: Her name is based off of a name for a group of jellyfish. I decided to base her name from that because the colour and hair choice i picked for her reminded me of jellyfish.

Lilly

Age: 18, She/Her, Sexuality: Bisexual

Lilly is an 18 year old Inkling who is the younger sister to Sunny. She is sort of a shut in and spends most of her time indoors on her PC. She used to be talkative at school, but over years of bullying and being talked down to by everyone, she became a recluse and avoids going outside due to anxiety and a skin condition that makes her sensitive to sunlight so she always brings an umbrella with her when going out on a bright day.

Lilly is a digital artist and hoarder of random technology, ranging from old laptops, hard drives, video game consoles and rhythm game controllers like guitars and DJ turntables. She runs a website where she takes commissions, although she doesn't get much money it's still pretty good cash. She doesn't attend school and still lives with her parents.

She can be quite cheeky and has a weird way with her words that make interacting her feel... off. She can also be quite perverted in her speech but she won't push any boundaries if the other person is uncomfortable by her.

Likes:

Technology

Drawing

Rhythm games

Coffee

Anime

Her older sister Sunny

Dislikes:

Outdoor activities

Sunlight

Fruit

Vegetables

Hot weather

Very outgoing people

Favourite weapon: Recycled Brella

Favourite sub weapon: Autobomb

Favourite special: Crab Tank

Favourite Idol: Marie - Finds her extremely attractive and cool. She was her sexual awakening when she saw Marie dance from a video online. Lilly even purchased a giant Marie plushie to snuggle with and has kept hidden from her family in her cluttered closet.

Fun trivia: Lilly is based off of Futaba Sakura from Persona 5. I wanted to have a character that is similar to her, down to the colour choice and personality.

Shinobu

Age: 22, She/Her, Sexuality: Heterosexual

Shinobu is a 22 year old Octoling who grew up in the Octarain domes. She always had trouble in school and was talked down to by her instructors and parents. She was told to "be more disciplined! Be like other Octolings! Stop being lazy!" She was even physically abused by her parents and decided enough was enough and ran away to the surface at age 13, determined to leave her old life behind and start a new.

She quickly adapted to Inkling culture and learnt the language at an insane speed, all fueled by the pain of her past. In fact she adapted so quickly people often mistook her as an Inkling. Shinobu learnt the ways of turf war and discovered a new obsession and career path, music production. She grew a name for herself as an indie music artist and currently has 3 albums with 13 songs in each. She has a unique musical style that involves sampling the Idols' vocals and making tracks that blend jungle drum and bass, and pop.

She also became obsessed with fashion and is always constantly making new outfits for herself. Shinobu also has a rare disorder that affects the pigment in her ink which causes it to switch between purple and pink at random. Although it doesn't cause her any pain fortunately.

Shinobu is bold, highly determined and sure of herself. She cannot be manipulated or mind controlled. You give her the hypnoshades? She ain't getting hypnotised. You give her the Controller VM? Nothing will happen. However if she hears the Calamari Inkantation she can't help herself and starts dancing like crazy.

She has a chill demeanor and never lies no matter what, she is always compelled to tell the truth even if it'll hurt her or the other person. She is also very empathic and understanding of others and will always be there for her friends and the ones she loves.

Shinobu also has a very excited side to her when alone or with someone she's very close with. She has a huge smile on her face, is very touchy and is giddy.

However she often suffers from nightmares and anxiety which cause her to not get very much sleep. She's sort of a night owl and not by choice...

Likes:

Reading

Plushies

Tea

Roller skating

Pajamas

Tableturf card battles

Dislikes:

Small or cramped spaces

Heavy metal music

Sand

Public transport

Loud sounds

Messy places

Favourite weapon: Splatana Stamper and Charcoal Decavitator

Favourite sub weapon: Burst Bomb

Favourite special: Inkjet

Favourite Idol: Shiver - Loves her style of singing and how she's a shark tamer. She often watches videos of her performances and gets all giddy and yells when Shiver does kakegoe.

Fun trivia: Shinobu is based off of the character of the same name in No More Heroes, Shinobu. I wanted to make a Splatoon oc that was a cool fighter that wields a Splatana and i developed the idea from there.

Sunny's relationships

V: Solid friends

Hapalo: Good acquaintances but nothing too special

Bloom: BESTIES!

Lilly: Love her to death

Shinobu: Thinks she has cool style

V's relationships

Sunny: Cool gal

Hapalo: Friend since school

Bloom: Likes her energy

Lilly: Think she's funny and a good time on voice calls

Shinobu: Girlfriend, loves her a ton : )

Hapalo's relationships

Sunny: Likes her positive attitude

V: Hope he's doing okay

Bloom: Not on good terms after an... incident at the library...

Lilly: Impressed by her art skills

Shinobu: Feels bad for her

Bloom's relationships

Sunny: BESTIES!!!!!!!!!!

V: Feels like he should open up more but he's still a nice friend

Hapalo: Doesn't like him. Aside from his hair

Lilly: Thinks she's a little weird...

Shinobu: Doesn't like her attitude but feels sorry for her past

Lilly's relationships

Sunny: Little jealous of her but still loves her

V: A good friend to play games with

Hapalo: Doesn't understand how he thinks her art is good...

Bloom: A bit put off by her energy...

Shinobu: Big fan of her music work

Shinobu's relationships

Sunny: Thinks she's nice but is worried about her busy life

V: Boyfriend, loves his gentle and quiet energy

Hapalo: Likes his writing and can relate to him somewhat

Bloom: Respects her love for her family

Lilly: Thinks her art is great and that she should be more confident

Splashtags

Okay that is it for my Splatoon OCS! If you wish to... i dont knowww... draw any of them..... 👉👈 then DM me and i can give you better looks at them!

THANK YOU FOR READING!

[chouxsardine]

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

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

It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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

Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

[linkspooky]

What ending would you have liked for the League villains in BNHA?

Well, there's two answers to this question. What would be my ideal ending to the League of Villains requires major story structure changes. To the point where it almost becomes an entirely different story,v venturing into fanfiction territory.

Basically keeping the story as it is until My Villain Academia, there's no longer a clear and distinct line between Hero and Villain. Shigaraki is now the real deuteragonist of the story, and the story is split between Deku's journey and Shigaraki's.

The league are no longer just an insane fringe element that doesn't deserve to be listened to or have their wrongs redressed. Since they now have the MLA they have public support behind them, they like become actual rebels against hero society with even public support. Either the War Arc doesn't happen, or the villains win and society is effectively destroyed so that the heroes no longer have their tight grasp.

A bunch of kids die in the war, because they weren't relevant and it's a consequence for UA raising child soldiers. The remaining relevant kids are forced to cope with two realities, number one they were violent enforcers of a broken system, number two the villains are right in some ways. A moment of the kids going "Are we the bad guys?" However, they can't agree with destroying everything so they have to fight to rebuild. The kids have lost faith in the adults, break off from them entirely so the adults no longer hog all the screentime and try to attempt to solve the problem on their own. Also, Enji dies in the war arc because Hori didn't do anything satisfying with his character beyond that part, and Dabi is hit with feelings of: oh no killing my father didn't fix my problem.

Then you'd basically have to have the narrative find a compromise between Shigaraki's complete radicalism but lack of any motivation to rebuild, and Deku's desire to save others but lack of self-awareness about the evils of his society and how the system can't be fixed as it is. Like a war between the opposite forces of preservation and destruction and Deku and Shgiaraki having to eventually work together to build their world. Maybe Deku even manages to convince Shigaraki there is a future, and save him from statements like "I don't care what happens next." The League of Villains and the reduced Class 1A are like two parallel groups in the manga running in tandem, and also Deku's bonds with his friends are closer now and actually shown in story they become a tight knit group so both sides are trying to protect the people they love too.

Here was my realistic ending I was expecting when the war started. The kids fight their respective villainous foils and then manage to talk them down and solve things with words instead of violence. Then the villains and heroes team up in order to save Shigaraki from AFO, which is the first step of redemption of the league, and also the kids realizing that the league love each other. At the end of the fight Deku tells Shigaraki what he's always wanted to hear when he was Tenko, "You can be a hero, too." bookending the story with the words All Might told him. The villains either get rehabilitated because they helped take down AFO, or they run off to become vigilantes.

What we got was everyone being sent to hell instead and that sure is something.

[wayfaringhoax]

Plans

Summary: Javier Peña is slowly but surely becoming a thorn in your side. He just can't seem to leave you alone at work, and you're coming to realise that dismantling your plans is his top priority.

Word Count: 15k

SLOW BURN! You have been warned ...

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Trope: Opposites Attract (work acquaintances that bicker like crazy)

Rating: Explicit. 18+ MDNI

Warnings: explicit sexual content (dirty talk, oral sex f-receiving, p in v), swearing, consumption of alcohol, mention of drug-related violence and death, angst, mention of overworking, bickering at work, bribing/trading favours at work, discussion of insecurities, talk of previous sexual partners. Slight dub-con with an unexpected kiss (on the cheek).

Author’s Note: This fic features a reader/OFC blend. She has a defined job and a particular personality, but she has no pre-assigned physical appearance.

I really hope you enjoy this! Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you liked this fic. It would mean the world to me !!

You have a method for these types of calls. The ones where an embassy associate or some other government official refused to accept what you were trying to tell them. It’s all about the tone of voice used; you must appear agreeable with a hint of ditsiness, just enough to remind whatever balding senior on the opposite end of the phone that you were a woman, and so, it was expected that things weren’t getting done properly. If it weren’t for misogyny, you’d have been yelled at more times than you could count.

God, and the pet names. It was as though these men believed sweet talking had the power to override all scheduling conflicts and put their names at the top of the list. You swear they are the reason why you never like when men call you “baby”, or “sweetheart”. The only thing it aroused in you was disgust.

As the American Ambassador to Colombia, your boss was in high demand, and as his personal assistant, you were extremely protective of his diary. And well, Crosby was revered for his expertise and military history, which caused all the other WASPs in your sector to swarm to him; eager to share a drink and talk politics with an American hero. 

Despite the fact your boss had no time to indulge them, having his hands full with more pressing matters - such as the alarming rise of drug-related violence in South America - they still blew up his phone constantly. Did these men not have wives to annoy, instead of you?

You lift your head at the sound of someone entering your office.

“Need your old man to sign this paperwork.” 

Not now. 

Javier. The man lives in his own little world, it seems. Can he not tell you’re currently occupied?

You raise a finger to your lips to shush him, before pointing at the phone pressed to your ear.

“What?” He mouths, moving closer to you. 

Rolling your eyes, you make a shooing motion with your hands. 

It doesn’t work, as he places the forms down in front of you, and when you think that’ll be it, you notice he’s leaning over your desk; eyes looking at you expectantly. 

You look up at him in disbelief. He’s grown far too accustomed to getting his own way with the women around here. You’ve seen the way he smolders; dipping his head down so his eyes appear irresistible when he gazes up at them, and of course, you couldn’t help but scoff at how he’d undo a few more buttons of his shirt, too. Sometimes, if he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, he’d even resort to the sluttiest thing a guy could do: rolling the sleeves up. But, it hasn’t failed him yet.

Poor Colleen. She was about ready to hand over the embassy’s entire criminal database when Javier held her hand to admire her manicure. But it’s not going to work on you. 

You pull the phone away from your ear and press it to your chest, giving him a look that could kill.

“Javier, I’m on the phone.” You hiss. “You’ll have to wait.”

He huffs in annoyance before sinking back into the chair opposite you. You’re doing your best to stay focused as you rattle off a list of alternative dates, but Javier’s taken to toying with your belongings that are laid out on your desk. When you notice him holding a frame next to his face, raising his eyebrows as he points to the photo of your cat, you’ve just about had enough of his impatience. 

You attempt to snatch the object away from him, but he’s too quick for you; putting it back in its place before seizing your planner. 

“Mr. Cassidy, I can assure you. As soon as your funding is cleared, the ambassador will be in touch to discuss moving forward with the project.” You say whilst frantically making grabby hands at the man sitting across from you, hoping it will entice him into returning your most prized possession.

You have no such luck, as Javier appears perfectly content to browse the pages outlining your meticulous schedule, stopping every so often to nod his head or hum in amusement. You feel your ire rise at the country attache’s brazen presumption, but somehow, it doesn’t reach your voice, allowing you to continue the call as normal. 

Javier’s taken aback at how unaffected you seem, so he decides to ramp up his efforts.

Reaching into the pocket of his sand-coloured blazer, he pulls out a cigarette, and when he lights it, he observes how your eyes flash with a hint of something. Something he doesn’t see often. 

Could it be quiet rage simmering beneath those doe eyes? 

You were a people-pleaser; always pleasant and professional. So Javier’s surprised at the way you’re glaring at him. Proud even. Knowing he’s the one to bring it out of you.

As he makes himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other and reclining back into the chair, you flash him an exaggerated smile. But Javier knows that it’s not meant for him, rather, it’s directed at whatever schmuck has been hoarding your attention for the past five minutes. 

“Thank you for your patience, I’ll be in touch shortly. Alright, take care now.” 

Finally. You end the call and immediately lean forward to retrieve your planner.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask. “Are there no drug kingpins that need incarcerating?”

He stares you down with a slight pout on his lips before repeating his earlier request; as though he didn’t even hear what you just said.

“I need this signing. It’s urgent, is he around?” 

“Everything’s always urgent with you, huh?” You grumble. 

“It’s not like there are lives at stake or anything.” 

You don’t appreciate his sarcasm, especially after how he barged in and disrupted your work. 

The smirk he’s masking is beyond infuriating, and you’re sure he’s exhaling the smoke from his lips in slow motion, purely to rile you up further. 

Every little thing he’s doing seems to annoy you, though you’re not entirely sure why. You put it down to the fact that you know you can’t get rid of him. Not easily, anyway. And not until you give him what he wants.

“The ambassador’s engaged all day, I’m afraid. Try again tomorrow, perhaps?” You tell him with a sickly-sweet smile, holding his forms out towards him.

Javier realises he may have pushed you too far, so he quickly scrambles to sit up straight; hoping a different approach will work on you.

“Sweetheart-” He begins, leaning closer to you. Cigarette now forgotten in favour of working you over.

You cut him off. “Don’t call me that. I’m not one of your girls, Javier.”

He sighs, retreating back in defeat. It’s hard to believe that you didn’t even look at him when you spoke those words, but your tone alone suggested it would be wise to back off. And so, Javier does just that, whilst he scratches his head for a new strategy.

“How about you fast-track these...” He suggests, holding the papers up again. “And in exchange, I’ll buy you a drink.”

You can’t help but scoff. 

“Yeah, that seems fair.” You jest. “That would also require me going to a bar with you, outside of working hours.”

You don’t need to elaborate. He knows you’d never willingly do such a thing. 

“You see.” He drawls. “That’s where you’re wrong. A few little birdies on the third floor told me you’ve got plans this evening. If I just happen to be in the area…well, I think our arrangement can still be fulfilled.” 

Your ears heat up in embarrassment. You didn’t like the thought that this man knew what you got up to outside of work. In your head, colleagues were colleagues, not friends. You liked to keep your work life completely separate from your personal life, and frankly, you didn’t want him trying to weasel his way in there. But something told you he wasn’t going to let this go.

It wasn’t like you’d advertised your plans. The women from communications had hounded you in the break room when they noticed you’d had your hair done. It would’ve been unprofessional to ignore them, so eventually, you’d let it slip that a few of your friends from home were visiting, and you all planned to head into town for some drinks. 

They had fussed over you like you were a newborn. Of course, you assumed it was because you typically kept to yourself at work, and it simply gave them something to gossip about; someone’s life to pry into where they could.

When did you get so cynical?

Snapping out of the memory, you busy yourself with organising your desk drawer. 

“Let me guess.” You say dryly, preoccupied with the task at hand. “You’ll be drinking alone?”

He raises his eyebrows in good humour. “Not if you’re there.”

“Fast-track’s gonna cost you more than one drink, Peña.” You tell him, your voice taking on a singsong quality as you avoid making eye contact. 

“And I’m not drinking with you. I have friends, believe it or not.”

“What will it take?” He asks, looking somewhat intrigued; he didn’t think you’d budge.

“Well, there’s six of us. So three bottles of something should be about right.”

Javier sighs. Why does it cost money to get anything done around here? 

“Wine?” He asks you.

“Am I that easy to read?” You say incredulously. There goes yet another thing he now knows about you.

Yes, he thinks. But he wouldn’t dare tell you that, too scared to poke the bear since you were so close to giving him what he wants. Javier stays silent, opting to give you a knowing look instead.

Finally, you look his way, and your eyes pierce into him. He’s not quite sure if he’s turned on or scared shitless. Or perhaps he’s both? 

Taking the papers from his grasp, you dangle them over the tray marked as “priority”, and his eyes lock on the movement of your hands like a cat chasing a laser. 

“If this means you’ll leave me to work in peace …” You say, looking to him for confirmation of your agreement. 

Javier raises both of his hands at that, holding his palms out in surrender. You squint at him in apprehension, before dropping the forms into the tray.

As he makes his way out of your office, he turns back to address you, and you’re not at all surprised when the DEA’s country attaché winks at you. 

“I’ll see you there.” He tells you.

“Unfortunately.”

***

The bar isn’t as crowded as you hoped it would be. Which means you spot him as soon as he enters. He’s still wearing his dress shirt, but he’s slipped his signature leather jacket over the top, and as cliché as it sounds, it screams bad boy; giving you yet another good reason as to why you should stay away from Javier Peña.

Javier, however, is pleased by the lack of patrons this evening. There’s enough empty space for him to have the perfect view of you from where he’s perched at the bar, nursing his whiskey neat. It’s an intriguing view, he thinks, as his eyes soak up the sight of you, very much out of your element, as you leave your circle of friends to get a drink. 

Your pristine black mary-janes have been swapped out for a pair of electric-blue strappy heels, and your modest silver stud earrings are nowhere to be seen. Instead, your ears are adorned with an elaborate, colourful pair of drop earrings, and Javier can’t help but want to pull your hair back so he can get a better look at them. Not that you’d ever let him that close to you. At least not before you tore him a new one, that’s for certain.

And the dress. His eyes can’t decide where to settle, as his gaze darts between each visual spectacle you’ve curated for him. 

Well, he knows you most likely didn’t dress up for him, but he doesn’t stop himself from indulging in the thought for a brief moment. The knowledge that you’ve been hiding all this underneath those pencil skirts and stockings is a pleasant surprise to him. One his brain can’t seem to compute just yet. 

Sure, he thought you were beautiful. After all, Javier wasn’t blind; he could spot a pretty woman from a mile away. But you always dressed so modestly. So he’s not quite sure what to think when he sets his eyes on the exposed skin of your shoulders in that halter neck, as well as the way the glittery fabric hugs your curves just right before it flares out slightly when it reaches the top of your thighs; giving your ensemble a flirty, playful touch. 

He also can’t help himself from staring at the supple skin of your legs as they draw his eyes down, feeling as though he’s been hypnotised. Besides, you’d made an effort tonight, and it would be criminal to let all your hard work go unnoticed. 

Was there someone you were trying to impress? Surely not. 

Javier knew you weren’t the type to give any man who didn’t meet your exceptionally high, and oddly specific standards the time of day. If they weren’t going to play into your five-year plan, then they were of no use to you.

Perhaps you have yet to notice him, he wonders. Stubbing out his cigarette, he heads to the bar, ignoring the bartender’s sceptical look when he orders three bottles of red wine for the table of young, attractive women over in the corner. Women who look like the last thing they need is to be bothered by this man, drinking his sorrows, alone on a bar stool. 

Amused, he watches you all fuss over the complimentary booze, chuckling to himself when he sees your friends dive right in to fill their glasses. But you don’t seem to be drinking any of the wine you haggled for back at the office. Instead, you stay sipping your margarita in the corner of the booth, seeming perfectly content to sit this one out.

Javier’s perplexed, and slightly exasperated at your cheek. His wallet is feeling significantly lighter in his jacket pocket as of right now, and here you are; shunning his generous offering. 

He walks over to you, preparing to turn on the charm. 

Wearing a winning smile, he approaches tentatively. He's playing the part of the handsome gentleman with nothing but pure intentions, and he doesn’t miss the way your friends’ eyes light up at his arrival. You, however, don’t seem so impressed.

He hunches over slightly, holding himself with a cocky air and chewing his gum as he catches the attention of the rest of the table.

“Ladies…” He begins. “Apologies for the interruption, but I need to borrow your friend here. It’ll just be for a few minutes, then I promise, you can have her back.” 

You take a moment to consider what he might want, but nothing sensible comes to mind. Therefore, you conclude that he must’ve come over here for the sole purpose of vexing you. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask him warily. 

“Embassy business.” He tears his gaze away to wink at your friend. “It’s confidential, of course, so I can’t say any more.” 

“Who’s this?” Your friend asks excitedly, and the rest of the group appears to share her enthusiasm, judging by their wide eyes and straightened backs. You couldn’t fault them, as the men back home were nowhere near as handsome as him. Javier had that whole rugged cowboy appeal; wild and headstrong, a little rough around the edges, with just enough charm and chivalry to make the panties drop. 

Did you really just acknowledge that you find this infuriating man attractive? 

You’d asked the bartender to go easy on the tequila, but perhaps he’d done the opposite. As there could be no other reason as to why you’re currently indulging in such absurd thoughts.

Of course, Javier’s thrilled at the prospect of flashing his badge to the group of beautiful women currently looking up at him like he’s some kind of god. 

He holds it up to them. “Javier Peña, DEA.”

“Again, I apologise, but it really is urgent.” He says, looking at you expectantly. 

You sulk out of your seat before you walk straight past him to a more secluded section of the bar. 

He gets a little too close to you, as when you abruptly turn to face him, he’s hit with a mouthful of your hair. “What is it?” You grit out. 

Meanwhile, Javier’s taken aback at how sexy you are when you’re mad like this. At the embassy, you kept it subdued; hiding behind your persona of professionalism with pleasant smiles and jovial handshakes. But right now, you look as though you might actually slap him. 

“Bonita-”

Again, you cut him off at the use of another pet name. Holding your hand up as you roll your eyes in frustration.

He tries again. “You clean up nice…” And at that remark, you turn your body to face the bar, not wanting to give him another opportunity to check you out.

“You’re not drinking?” 

You gesture to your margarita whilst you take a healthy sip.

“You know what I mean.” He says. “What? You rinse me out for nothing?” 

Taking advantage of your apparent shyness, he’d managed to slip in closer, so you’re surprised when his next words are spoken into your ear.

“You waiting on someone else, huh? Got a better offer or something?” 

“God…” You groan. “I just don’t like the idea of you buying me a drink, okay?”

“You’re from work.” You tell him as a matter of fact.

He raises his eyebrows in confusion. 

“The problem is … ?” His words trail off, searching for your reasoning. 

“The problem is.” You say. “Is that it’s not appropriate.” 

Javier watches your eyes fix on something behind him, ultimately giving you away. He turns his head to see what’s caught your eye, finding what he could only describe as a rather gormless American tourist, sharing a beer with another fellow statesman, as they stick out like a sore thumb. A pair of gringos, if he wanted to be particular. 

He can feel the mirth rising in his throat as it hits him. You had eyes for this plain-looking man. 

And he liked the look of you, too, it seems, as Javier notices him rise from his seat, clearly heading in your direction. 

“Oh, it’s funny is it?” You ask, your tone low. 

He’s taken to ignoring you now; staring straight ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar, finding your irritation to be quite the source of entertainment.

The sight that greets you next is Javier, taking a swig from his drink whilst his eyes peer at you over the rim of his glass, inciting you to do something. You ball your hands into tight fists, before shuffling down the bar slightly to put some distance between the two of you.

The tourist is now in front of you. He fluffs his hair as he leans against the bar and greets you, and Javier silently sniggers at the man’s mediocre efforts to flirt with you. You, however, don’t seem to mind it, judging by the genuine smile on your face. Oh, so this is your type. Meek, predictable and incredibly dry. Each to their own, he thinks.

He knows he should probably leave soon, not wanting to spend another weeknight wasted for no good reason, but he can’t tear himself away from eavesdropping on what might be the most boring conversation he’s ever heard. He’s listened to hundreds of wiretaps on sicarios’ phone conversations, and although he wishes those shitbags were dead, their chats were far more engaging than the one he’s currently privy to.

“So, what’s your favourite colour?” 

“Purple.” You tell your admirer, overjoyed at the mundane nature of your conversation. 

Mundane is safe, and safe is good. Good is what you need in a husband and potential father of your future children. Good pays the bills. Good doesn’t spin your world off its axis and force you to question everything you thought you knew about yourself. Good, was good. And this man had all the right qualities, so far.

Another question. “What do you think of lasagne?”

“Yeah, I like it.” You reply, and Javier can’t actually believe how into this you are. 

Well, perhaps he could believe it, actually, if your planner was anything to go off. You even penciled in when you planned to consume alcohol. 

He had nothing against your love of a routine. But he most definitely wanted to see how far he could push you; see how you’d react to spontaneity.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you place your hand on the American’s arm and lean in closer. 

And for Javier, it’s the final straw.

His resolve snaps. Unable to tolerate any more of the painful scene unfolding right beside him, he makes his way over to where the two of you are standing, and in typical asshole fashion, he makes sure to accidentally bump his shoulder against the other man when he reaches you.

“Pérdon, amigo.” He says, hand on your date’s shoulder in a faux apology, before he mutters something else in Spanish. His voice low enough that you didn’t catch what it was.

You hazard a look up at him, and …

Fuck. You realise he’s only just getting started.

The tourist had been so kind as to order you both another drink, but before either of you could get your hands on them…

“Thanks, baby.” Javier coos, looking right at you as he takes a sip from one of the drinks; specifically, the one your date had been reaching for.

Stunned at his bold use of yet another pet name, it’s a few seconds later when you react. You turn your head so fast, that if he wasn’t a government agent, he would’ve missed it, but luckily for Javier, he senses you’re about to call him out when he sees your eyebrows raise, mouth open and hand poised, ready to point a finger in his direction. 

So, naturally, he shuts you up before you can ruin his fun. And he does this in the way he knows best. 

He kisses you. 

Or at least he tries to, but you somehow manage to swerve him just before his lips meet your own, causing it to land on your cheek.

It’s only a peck, but it does the trick, as you are well and truly dumbfounded.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then you hoped Javier could gauge just how close you were to throttling him by looking into yours. What the fuck was he doing? 

Your ‘date’, though you weren’t sure you could call him that anymore, is just as shocked as you are, backing away from you slightly. You sense he’s not wanting to step on any toes, but he can tap-dance all over Javier Peña’s toes if he likes. In steel boots. You’d most definitely find joy in that. 

You size him up, trying to work out how to get yourself out of this situation before this asshole escalates it. Conflict was the last thing you wanted; it didn’t fit into your schedule for the evening.

“Javie-” You try.

“Sweetheart…I think you’ve bored this man for long enough, don’t you think?” His arm snakes around your waist, pulling your body into his as he stares blankly at the other man, waiting for him to scurry.

And, well, you were also hoping he’d leave. However, your reasons were different from those of Javier’s. Whatever they may be. 

You simply didn’t think you’d be able to contain your anger at the agent’s shenanigans for much longer, and you didn’t want to flip your lid in front of the stranger.

Cutting his losses, your tourist sees himself back to his table, and you notice he’s quick to grab his jacket and tuck in his chair. Javier’s getting comfortable on the stool next to you when you see your admirer leave, and the tight-lipped smile he gives you on his way out has you cringing; mortified at the example that’s been made of you tonight. 

When you’re sure he’s gone, you let some of the facade drop. 

“What was that?” You ask Javier, voice as sharp as a thousand knives.

He simply twirls the glass around in his hand, not taking his eyes off the amber liquid for a second. 

You push again. “What could you possibly have gained from that?”

But still, no answer from the DEA Country Attaché.

“You know what…nevermind.” You exclaim before attempting to return to your friends over in the booth.

Before you make it past him, Javier holds his arm out to stop you in your tracks. Offering you the second of the two drinks, he gestures for you to take it.

“Sit down.” He tells you. “At least until you’ve finished your drink.”

Simmering is no longer the most apt word to describe how you’re feeling right now. You are boiling; the heat in your veins ready to spill over at any moment.

Yet somehow, you are so overcome with outrage that your body feels stiff, and you’re unable to move, or even get more than a few words out. So, not quite able to comprehend what’s just transpired, you sit down, waiting for him to offer up some kind of explanation.

After a few more swirls of his drink around the glass, Javier breaks the silence.

“I was doing you a favour. Trust me, he was dull. You don’t want that.” 

You deserve better than that, is what runs through his head, but that’s a whole other emotion, so he squashes it before it can fester into something more potent.

He continues. “Your kids would’ve been called Randy and Bob or some shit like that.”

“Yes.” You grate in response. “And we could’ve lived in a cushy house in a nice neighbourhood, bought a couple of cats, and travelled once per year.” 

“You want that?” He asks you dubiously.

“And how could you know what I want, Javier?” 

Sensing your control isn’t wavering, he turns to humour. “Well, uh…he didn’t seem like much of a cat person, I’m afraid.” 

Well, he’s got you there. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d successfully picked out one of the man’s flaws. You couldn’t let Javier Peña of all people get the better of you. 

“And you don’t seem like much of a diplomat, but here you are … Mr. Attaché.”

That one was a bit too on the nose. 

A sullen look grows on his face; telling you it’s time to go. 

Tomorrow’s a new day, and if you see him, it will be at work. He can’t get away with this shit there. 

Right?

***

Clearly, Javier does not know how to respect your personal space.

The next day, at 12:15 pm precisely, you head to the break room for lunch, and by the time your coffee cup is filled, he’s there too. Loitering behind you like a lost puppy, but not the cute, innocent kind. Javier Peña was the yappy, irritating kind of puppy. 

Crosby had often considered him a thorn in his side; always waltzing in with some grand scheme that threatened to derail everything he had been working towards for years. And now, you were beginning to understand just how your boss felt. 

He waited for you to acknowledge him, but after seeing you potter about the communal space; tidying, reorganising, anything to look busy, he realised that you were stalling. 

And you were. You were hoping he’d get bored of watching you be so mundane, and eventually, he’d leave you alone.

He makes himself a cup too, before leaning against the unit next to where you’re currently refilling the sugar.

“Good night?” He asks, his usual mirth now present again.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Lunch break.” He grins.

“Oh, excuse me. I thought your diet consisted of cigarettes only.” You tease.

So quick, he thinks. And he doesn’t give you a response, hoping this little victory over him would somehow weaken your guard.

“You never come in here. What’s special about today?” You ask.

He shrugs in response before straightening up slightly, subconsciously hoping to get a little closer to you. He’s fascinated. As far as he was concerned, you eat, sleep and breathe work. So seeing you use your break time, like everyone else, feels strange. It feels new.

What would you do? He found himself studying you like you were a rare specimen; your behaviours, motivations and fluctuations a complete mystery to be unravelled. 

However, as he readjusts his posture, the collar of his shirt slips a little. Previously, the garment had done well to hide it, but now it’s plain to see.

A hickey.

This man has a hickey, just above his collarbone, and due to your proximity, you can see it as clear as day. 

And for some reason unbeknownst to either of you, it incites you. 

You’re not jealous.

You’re impressed. He’d spent a good portion of his evening derailing yours, and yet he still had time to secure a hookup. Well, the man was determined; you had to give him that.

“Good night?” You repeat to him, eyes locked on the offending mark.

Javier follows your gaze until he realises what you’re referring to. He looks around the room to check for eavesdroppers, before lowering his voice.

“Yeah, it was actually. It doesn’t compare to sitting at a bar discussing fucking lasagne, or all the different shades of purple that exist… but I’d say it was alright.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know it wasn’t my finest hour. But at least I ended the night with some dignity.” 

“Oh, I had plenty of dignity by the end of the night.” He says. “You should try it sometime. It’s good stress relief.”

Stress relief. God, this man was ignorant if he didn’t realise that the majority of your stress recently has been caused by him. 

Him, and his insistence on aggravating you, getting under your skin and sinking in deep, all for some twisted type of power play. 

You must’ve been the only woman at the embassy who wasn’t throwing their panties at him as he walked by their station, which made you a challenge. Just like Escobar, you were a target that needed to be worked. He saw you as a conquest, and that’s what brought him to the break room just now: he was doing his reconnaissance. 

Moving to the far side of the room, right where the refrigerator stood, you try to put some distance between you before replying to his quip.

“Thanks.” You tell him dryly, your eyes looking at anything but him. “But I’ve got my own form of stress relief that works just fine.”

He holds in a chuckle. You were probably one of the most highly-strung people he’d ever met, so he seriously doubted your words. If this was you with well-managed stress levels, he couldn’t imagine what you’d be like on a bad day. And yet, some part of him wanted to see that. Wanted to be the one that drove you to that place. Not out of malice, of course, but out of curiosity. 

Javier wanted to work you up, right up to the point where you’re at the edge of what your body can handle, only to see you spiral down. All your rational thoughts lost to the physical, as you fall over the precipice, into a sea of baser instincts. It would be beautiful to see, he thinks.

But the sound of your heels drags him out of his fantasy, as he sees you heading towards the door. You were on your way back to your office, by the looks of it, and Javier can’t help but follow you, though he kept a safe distance so as to not spook you too soon.

When he sees that you’re at your desk again, comfortable, he quickly sneaks through the door. 

You’d anticipated that he wouldn’t leave it alone without getting the last word in, so you weren’t exactly phased by his intrusion. Typing away, you get on with your business as though he’s not there. 

Standing beside your desk, to any onlooker it appears as though he’s just running something by you, as he picks up a document from your desk that looks somewhat related to his sector. He rakes his eyes over it sporadically, not at all paying attention to anything it contains. Rather, he’s debating whether to let a certain thought of his loose. Would it be too much?

“What is it that you do then?” He asks. “For stress relief?” 

He looks up from the piece of paper he’s holding to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t meant to be sexual, but you couldn’t deny the shift in the atmosphere. Javier felt as though there was something unsaid between you. Something festering in the back of both your minds.

Your ire now subdued, you drop your pen to look up at him. “Organisation. Cleaning, moving things around my apartment, filling out my planner…” You say, tapping your nails against the wooden surface in thought. 

Javier feels something light tug at his chest. Fascination, for sure. But could it also be admiration he feels? He can see that you’re getting swept up in a daydream of your own making, drifting towards a sweet fantasy; your eyes lighting up in pleasure, and he wants so badly to call it fascinating, but something tells him it’s a little closer to endearing.

The document long forgotten, he asks you. “Your planner, huh?”

You nod in response. “It’s sacred.” 

A delicate smile makes an appearance on your face, and Javier’s trying his hardest not to indulge in the sight. 

“I bet. You use it to plan out every part of your life?”

“That’s what it’s for.”

“Even when you fuck?” 

That renders you speechless. Javier had expected you to lash out, call him filthy or heatedly demand that he get out of your office. But nothing comes.

It’s at this exact moment when he realises he’s struck a nerve. Your shoulders have dropped, you’re nibbling on your bottom lip, and under the desk, he can see your feet have stopped their usual tapping. You look sheepish, almost.

He knows he can’t take it back, so he figures he might as well push forward. After all, he’s got nothing to lose. Except for his eyes, and any other vital body part, should you go back to being mad at him and claw them out.

“Right.” He drawls, waiting for you to elaborate.

Usually, when Javier Pena provokes you, he expects you to give it back to him. But not this time, it seems.

Laying back into your chair in resignation, you sigh. “Not quite. Let’s leave it at that.”

It’s clearly a lie, you denying that your sex life is dictated by a schedule. Javier knows you’re just the kind of woman that wants to exercise control over every aspect of your existence, even your carnal pleasure. You’re not giving much away, and he wants to crawl deeper; draw out a confession and claim a victory over you.

“Leave it at that...” He parrots. 

“DEA interrogation 101, never deflect. Good job you’re not a criminal, huh?” He jests, his laugh seeming shakier this time.

Still unwilling to budge, you give him nothing.

Again, in classic Javier fashion, he leans down, hands planted firmly in front of yours on your desk, crowding your space as his eyes beg yours for contact. “Bonita.” He coos.

That does it, snapping you out of your mildness. 

“Javier!” You admonish, voice firmly raised, though not enough to draw the attention of others. 

“I know, I know… no pet names. Apologies.” 

All he receives in response is your glare. Scathing and defiant.

Straightening up, he exhales whilst flexing his fingers. “Just tell me. Then I’ll leave it alone.”

But you’re not prepared to give this man any ammunition against you, not of your own volition, anyway.

However, he decides to adapt his strategy. He swipes the sacred object. Your planner, and holds it behind his back; beyond the extent of your reach.

You don’t react at first. Not until you hear his next words. “I think I’ll take a quick look-”

Darting out of your seat, you go to stop him, reaching over your desk for the stolen object, before he slams it back down in front of you. His wide palms pressed firm against the fabric cover, holding it down in a show of his dominance. You shouldn’t find that sexy, you think, cursing yourself silently for allowing yourself to become affected by this man.

As this is nothing short of an act of war, leaving you bristling and agitated. Rising to your feet, you gravitate towards where he’s holding your planner hostage. “You’ve had more than enough fun terrorising me over lunch break, I think it’s about time you get back to work.” You say.

“Tell me, and you can have it back.” He affirms, though he doesn’t need to move an inch. He knows, and you most definitely know, that your strength is no match for him. He’s an agent, for crying out loud. You’ve got no chance of getting your planner back without one of two methods: manipulation or seduction.

The latter was certainly off the cards, so you went with the former option. But you couldn’t deny your body’s reaction to Javier’s physicality. The way he stood firm in place, challenging you to come to him, all the while knowing he has the power to wrangle you wherever he sees fit. And to you, that was undeniably sexy.

You would never indulge in such a fantasy, of course, liking your men docile, as they were less likely to cheat and screw up your five-year plan. But you could allow yourself this one forbidden thought. Just for a second longer.

“There’s nothing to tell. Give it to me and I’ll bump your meeting with Crosby to tomorrow instead of Friday. Heard you need a sign-off… urgently.” You try smirking. “Something about a Cali operation and a chicken van.”

His own grin falters. Huh…he must really need the ambassador’s approval. 

But he tries to play it off. “It’s alright, these things can’t be rushed. I think I’ll hold onto this a little longer.” 

“What do you want, Javier?” You ask, your voice unimpressed and impatient.

“Tell me. Tell me that you actually plan when you get laid. Then you can have this back.” He holds the planner above his head, and when you reach for it again, he snatches it back behind him. 

“Come on…” You groan.

He moves closer to the door, daring you to let him leave with your most prized possession. But you’re running out of plays, you’re getting tired, and you remind yourself that Javier’s most likely going to get screwed later on, in some way or another, by the Colombian government, and that thought alone brings you comfort. Enough comfort, that it outweighs the distaste of having to give in to him.

Stepping closer, you huff out. “Okay! Fine! … I follow what Vogue magazine suggests. Orgasms at least every two days, and-” 

“And what?” He taunts.

“Eating saffron regularly, a-and drinking red wine, too. Aphrodisiacs … you know?” 

Javier’s grin is smug as shit, after drawing out your admission, and you want nothing more than to wipe it off his face. But right now, you just want him gone. Somewhere where he can’t see the blush flourishing in your cheeks. 

“Are you done?” You ask, arms crossed against your chest in an attempt to regain the appearance of power. Something you had forfeited whilst chasing the DEA Country Attaché, who held your planner hostage, around your office like a child chasing a butterfly.

The man in front of you softens at your tone, understanding that he’d pushed you quite far, and that he quite possibly got carried away. He couldn’t resist the way it felt; getting swept up in teasing each other, evoking a lightness in his chest that doesn’t come around often. 

“Do you ever do anything simply because you want to? When you want to?” He asks you. “Impulsively?”

All you can say to usher him out of your space is his name. “Javier.” You call, until you somehow manage to form a few more words. “Time’s up. Out, please.”

Sensing you’re at the end of your thread, he stalks towards the door. But when he reaches for the handle, he turns back to look at you. And the look on his face is unlike any of the ones he’s sported around you previously. It’s genuine. 

He calls out to you, voice almost quiet enough to sound sincere. “Hey, uh- if you ever wanna ditch the planner and let loose sometime, let me know, yeah.”

And with that, he’s gone. Leaving you reeling from the implications of his parting words.

***

The following day, Javier seeks you out on his lunch break, hoping to ask for another favour. But you’re not there. 

When he asks around in the break room for you, he finds out that you’d gone out for lunch today. Avoiding him, perhaps?

Now left with twenty-five minutes of free time, and a reluctance to head back upstairs and do some actual work, Javier goes snooping. He already had his excuse, having brought down another form for you to sign off on, so he’s not worried about looking out of place. But still, he’s considered a hero nowadays; a reputation to uphold, so he quickly checks for prying eyes before he pushes open the door to your office. 

That’s when he sees it. 

Your planner. Sitting pretty, waiting for someone to come along and peek inside. Well, today, that someone was Javier Peña. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a huge violation of your privacy, and if you found out, you’d surely have Crosby fire him. But as his feet carry him forward, he tells himself it’s harmless.

You work in an embassy, and you weren’t the type of person to have anything incriminating on your person whilst in a building filled with the top brass, not to mention various military and police officials, so there couldn’t be anything too intimate in there.

He picks it up, and as soon as his fingers touch the first page, he becomes frantic; possessed by the need to soak up as much of you as he can through these slightly worn pages, before he gets caught.

Javier studies your schedule like a classified file. He tells himself he’s searching for some dirt on you, something juicy that will become ammunition for his future torment. But that’s not the whole truth. At least, the fondness in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Mondays: no caffeine until 12 pm… Wednesdays: senator’s conference, dinner with Damon, laundry (whites) … Saturdays: allowance of 500ml wine …

The last one causes his eyebrows to raise, though the discipline it showed was certainly true to what he knew about your character.

However, as he’s about to investigate what you had planned for this Saturday night in particular, he hears the click of your heels getting closer, followed by your laughter. There you were, on your way back to the office, Crosby close behind as the two of you partake in light-hearted conversation. Huh, so that’s what you look like when you’re happy.

Luckily, for Javier, the ladies from your floor latch on to you, dragging you into their conversation and buying him some valuable time whilst you discuss last week’s department meeting.

It all happens so fast. He darts out of your office and makes a beeline to the elevator, his shoulders slacking only when he’s back in the sanctuary of his own workspace.

Pulling open his desk drawer on the right side, he shoves your planner inside and almost slams it shut; the closure somewhat symbolic of his hesitancy to confront what he’s just done.

Oops. 

***

It was when he saw you working late one evening, on a Friday nonetheless, that Javier considered it might be time for him to return your planner. He hadn’t looked inside again, not since that day in your office when he’d come looking for you during lunch, but there was a reason he didn’t want to give it back just yet.

The planner tied him to you. It gave him a reason to not have to leave you alone. Of course, you weren’t aware that he had it; as far as he could tell, but for as long as he held it, he’d matter to you. This little piece of stationery gave him a place in your world. Just for now, but now was enough for Javier, at least until he could make sense of these incomprehensible feelings you were eliciting from him.

Feelings that were causing his stomach to churn, currently, as he observes the way your hair falls in your face, whilst your hand moves elegantly over the page. However, he notices that the usual swiftness of your writing is absent. It appears as though you’re tired; wrist flexing far too often, and the strokes of your pen somewhat sluggish at this time of night. And to top it all off, there was a cup of coffee beside you; the rim kissed by the pink of your lipstick, teasing him with phantom sensations of what your lips would taste like. 

Javier got the sense that for you, drinking coffee after 7 pm was practically illegal, and yet the proof was right in front of him. It must’ve been a tough day if you were willing to disrupt your immaculate sleep schedule.

He steps inside, and you’re not even alarmed by him violating your privacy again. At this point, you’d come to expect his presence, despite how troublesome it always seemed to be for you.

“Sweetheart…”

Devoid of the energy needed to accost him for his choice of words, you settle for a scowl. But it’s a tired scowl, and he can tell you’re most likely not in the mood to bicker with him like you usually are.

You don’t lift your eyes when he sits down in front of you, but you should’ve done. Because if you did, you’d have seen the unmistakable furrow of concern on his face. You would have seen his empathy. Unadulterated, earnest and afflicted. It was the kind of expression one can only offer to another when they’ve experienced it themselves. 

After all, Javier had plenty of experience in overworking himself to the point of physical and mental burnout. Unable to ever switch off, even, and rather than fall deeper into his vices, he considered it better to channel the ambivalence he often felt into more work; that way he’d feel like he was doing something good. Even if all he was doing was searching for minor leads; needles in a haystack that Uncle Sam didn’t have the funds to clean up. 

Hoping to obtain more of your attention, he lets out a rough cough to stir you from your tired musings.

When that doesn’t work, he asks. “What are you still doing here?”

“It’s fine.” You tell him. “It’s not that unusual.”

“For you, it is. Trust me, I do this often and I never see you here. What is it?” He questions, gesturing to the forms you’re working on.

“Crosby needs all this done. He’s headed back to Oklahoma for the weekend to see his family, and well, there are four networking events next week, and it’s down to me to organise it all. Nothing I can’t handle, but he only dropped this on me when he called earlier, at 4.30 pm.”

Javier knows that by the way you punctuate the time, you’re not a happy bunny for having your schedule thrown into disarray. Like clockwork, you left the office at exactly 5 pm every day, so at 8.53 pm, you’ve had almost four hours off track. 

“So what … you’re gonna sleep here for the weekend until it’s done?”

Exasperated, you say his name in a warning. “I’m not in the mood for your-”

“I’m not in the mood for you, right now.” You tell him, wanting it to come across with absolute finality. But there’s no certainty in your voice, and it pains Javier to see you like this. 

He knows it’s not his fault - the cause of your stress - but the way you’re trying to exile him sends an anxious quiver through his veins. A part of him longed for you, and hearing that you wanted him to leave caused an uncomfortable urge to fight; to prove to you that he could fix it all for you.

He calls your name in a plea to get you to stop, just for a moment. Perhaps so he can talk you round? Fuck knows. He doesn’t know what to do, but he figures he’ll try to buy himself some more time. 

You look up, and he can see the whites of your eyes are tinged red; strained. The way you look so unsure of yourself has him crippled. Never, had he ever anticipated seeing you like this, as you were always so driven, confident in the trajectory you were following for yourself.

He says your name again. And it’s a white flag; a temporary truce whilst he helps you through this stump. 

“What?” You ask. You’re not annoyed, however, as there’s a trace of laughter in your voice; the kind of laughter that comes when something slips. It wasn’t exactly a facade, but you’d definitely loosened up now that you had gone past your “working hours”. To Javier, it seemed as though you’d given up on trying to impress others. Trying to please everyone, as you did constantly throughout each day at the embassy. And shit. Javier liked the way it looked on you. 

Authenticity.

“You should head home, it’s late. Crosby would never get rid of you if you didn’t finish all this shit.” He says with a soft smile.

“Well…” You huff. “It’s easier said than done. Besides, you said it yourself. You’re always here late.”

Of course, he was the pot calling the kettle black, but this was you. And you didn’t deserve this. 

He doesn’t have an answer to that. “Yeah, well …”

“What about this?” He says, picking up your stress ball from your desk. He holds up the squishy cat, before holding it out to you.

“Here. Give it a squeeze … Problem solved.” He jokes.

You take the toy from him before giving it a few good squeezes in your hand, and Javier can see some of the tension in your muscles evaporate at that. 

And he’s almost floored when you smile sheepishly at him. Do it again, he begs in his head, wanting - no, needing - to see this purer side of you. 

Standing from his chair, he coaxes you up too. “Come on … pack up your shit and you can let me give you a ride home.”

You shake your head almost instantly. “I’m good. I can call a friend.”

Javier sighs and perches on the corner of your desk. Leaning down closer, he tries again. “Well, Brenda left hours ago. You caught a lift in her with her, right? Come on, it will save you and your friend the hassle.”

He’s greeted by your vacant expression. Well, this is going great for him.

After a pause of deliberation, you try to get your words out. “But-” Is all you manage.

Sensing your concern at this new advancement in your working relationship, he tries to reassure you. 

“What, huh? Your planner won’t let you?”

And as soon as Javier mentions the planner, he regrets it. Considering it was currently in his possession, and he had planned to return it to you tonight, he probably shouldn’t be putting the thought of it in your head. Thankfully, you’re too exhausted to pick up on it.

“Come on …” He groans. “Be a little spontaneous for a change. Who knows? You might like it.” 

“I don’t wanna owe you any favours, Javier.” 

“No favours …” He assures you. “I’ll even do you one. If you let me drive you home, I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

You pretend to believe him. “Right. It’s not like you haven’t told me that several times already. I’ll believe it when I see it, Agent.”

Fuck, why does the thought of that hurt him?

“This time I mean it.” He announces.

And in that moment, a pool of unease treads between the two of you. 

You should be glad of his promise to leave you be. Perhaps, you are. But you love routines and consistency, so you can’t deny that the thought of such a change unsettles you deeply. 

Feeling both anxious and safe with Javier in this moment, you accept his offer.

***

Riding in Javier Peña’s car was not where you thought you’d be on Friday night. And you’re sure he can tell by how strangely you’re acting.

You’ve got your knees locked together tightly, with your hands resting in your lap. Whilst you tense and flex your fingers repeatedly, Javier’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road. But at the stop lights, he’s able to get a proper read on you, and once again, he’s bemused by what he sees.

It’s awkward. Or at least, you’re behaving awkwardly. There’s no sass, no feisty determination … 

Just you, not knowing how to act around him now you’re alone together. 

“Lighten up, would you?” He says. “You look like you’re riding in a funeral car.”

And that snaps you out of it. Slightly. 

You swallow and unclasp your hands before you speak next. “Sorry, I’m not used to this.”

“What, you don’t take DEA agents home often?” He teases. 

Javier predicts your eye roll before it comes. “What do you think?” 

He looks away from you then, but you spot his grin in your peripheral vision.

It’s silent for a short while, until the man beside you can’t help but speak his mind.

“Look, I uh- I completely get it, you know. Not trusting people, not wanting to let them in. But it’s not all bad. Having someone to talk to, someone to have fun with, someone to touch. I meant it when I said it’s stress relief. And you deserve to have that.” He says with utter sincerity.

“With whoever you consider worthy, of course. If anyone can even make it that far, right?” He jokes.

And you can’t help but laugh at his teasing this time, but the awkwardness is still very much present in your body. 

“Thanks …“ You mutter, voice trailing off in uncertainty.

Javier uses the lull to change the subject. “So how long have you been living at your place?”

“Around two years. Not all of us got upgraded to the premium apartments. We can’t all be heroes, you know.” 

Your pitch rises at the end to convey your amusement, and Javier finds himself mirroring your soft smile.

“Don’t know about a hero, Princesa. But I’m El Jefe now … guess they needed to give me a swanky new apartment to distract from the fact I’m pretty fucking useless these days.”

Princesa. 

That one was new. But for some reason, it was fitting.

And it doesn’t even bother you, right now. You know Javier Peña is a notorious womanizer. But just for a moment, you let yourself indulge in it. The moment that feels so much like a fantasy; you’re alone with him, in his car, and he’s calling you Princesa. It’s the funniest thing, how exhaustion has completely unravelled all your judgements.

“Wh- what do you mean? Crosby wouldn’t keep you around if you were useless, Javier.”

Fuck. The way you say his name like that, so hopeful, and without a trace of expectation. It makes him want to tell you everything; all of his fears, regrets and deepest insecurities. 

Some were rooted so deeply they almost felt physiological, and perhaps, they’re what cause him to say. “Every lead’s always one step ahead of you, and by the time you manage to get somewhere, someone’s already dead. When it matters, the people in charge won’t do shit, not until the narcos embarrass them enough to knock them off their asses.”

Your heart flutters at his raw admission.

“Fuck, and when things are good. When people aren’t getting killed, it’s because the government’s in bed with the fucking bad guys, paying them off with Uncle Sam’s money. Meanwhile, the narcos are raking in more cash than ever before.”

“Javier…” You exhale. 

Unsure of what to say, you try to reassure the troubled man beside you. 

“It’s enough. What you’re doing is enough. That’s all you can do. The system isn’t changing anytime soon.” You tell him.

The question is on the tip of your tongue. “I’ve heard things, and well … there will always be people like Stechner, pulling the wrong strings. Why put yourself through all the pain, when it’s never going to change? What’s in it for you, Javier?”

Does he even know why?

“One less body. One less overdose. One less finca destroyed … I hope to God that somehow, the scales are tipping. Even if it’s only a little. I hope something good comes out of it all, once in a while.” He says.

Silence soon comes to feel like a friend. At this moment, neither you or Javier know what to say, but you don’t feel the need to fill the quiet just yet. After all, that would mean acknowledging the prominent development in your relationship, and you were both too afraid to call it what it was. Afraid that acknowledgment would cause everything to dissipate all at once.

“Thanks for lending me your ear … uh, I guess it’s a good thing I said I’d leave you alone. Means you won’t have to hear me whine like that again.” Javier tells you, his apprehension somewhat obvious to an outsider. But not to you.

“Yeah … it’s a good thing, huh.” 

Nothing else is said for the remainder of the journey. The day had ground the two of you down, and you had collectively reached your limit. 

As you enter your apartment, you can’t help but replay the drive over in your head. Dropping your heels on the way to the living room, you curl up on the couch, processing. Would Javier really leave you alone?

Yet the most pressing question remained unanswered. Is that what you wanted? 

***

When Javier vowed to leave you alone, you expected it would bring relief.

However, you haven’t seen the man for five days now, and you can’t shake the sense that something is missing.

His daily annoyances had become a part of your routine, and without them, your office felt a little too quiet. Ghastly, almost. It was devoid of the warmth his mirth would bring, as he’d saunter in bargaining for favours with that artful charm of his.

Files he needed you to fast-track. Stationery he’d tamper with on your desk. His legs crossed in your chair. Even the curls of his cigarette smoke filling your office. All these things were simply no more. 

To the best of your understanding, you’d always thought you hated him. He was everything you were not. Scared of commitment, brazen and sometimes rogue, Javier was a lone wolf. 

Whereas you were reserved, organised, rigid in your ways and a pathological people pleaser. A goody two shoes, to be frank. 

He was everything you thought you hated, but perhaps, he reflected everything you were scared to be. 

For the longest time, you believed you needed someone just like you. A mirror, to be exact. Someone who validated your existence, because they lived in the same skin as you. 

And now, you’re not so sure anymore.

Having somehow misplaced your planner, time had seemed quite blurry, lately. You made a mental note to buy another when you head into town at the weekend, yet part of you wondered what it would be like to be without it. After all, you’d survived the last week. Would it be a disaster? Or would it be freeing?

There was a deep yearning within you to break the monotony and try something new. You longed for the taste of spontaneity and recklessness that Javier had fed you; bit by bit until you’d become addicted to the thought of it. 

You weren’t naive. This didn’t mean you wanted to run away with him, ask to go steady, and pray he’ll change his biology. Pray he’ll commit to you, and you only.

No. The thought of that made you feel sick, even. You’d never want to be the sacrificial lamb who tries to change the wolf, all because she thought there was a chance he could love her, in a different life.

Rather, you longed to give up control to him. You longed to have him knock you down a peg, make you question everything you ever knew about yourself. You longed to see the version of you that complimented him; all rough edges and dark clouds.

But a leopard can’t change its spots - not overnight, anyway - and you didn’t possess the courage needed to make a move. So, ultimately, you got back to work, allowing these new desires to fade into the background.

Perhaps, in the need to catch another kingpin, desperation alone would bring him to your desk, and he’d sweet talk you round to get things moving faster. And you’d flirt back with him, or at least try to, and he’d be surprised; eyes wide and smirk strong.

Such a thought sent a shudder through your body. Perhaps.

***

Javier Peña couldn’t remember the last time he went over to a woman’s place, without the intention of sleeping with them.

But here he is, standing outside your door. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while, having stood by his word to leave you alone. And although he tells himself he’s just here to return your planner, at last, that doesn’t explain why he decided 9.27 pm would be the best time to come over. 

It also doesn’t explain why he wore that same leather jacket from the night at the bar, when he’d ruined your chances with another guy. Or why he made sure to lock all the car doors and windows, as though he expected to stay awhile.

He knows his chances are slim. But Javier wants to test the odds. 

His knock startles you, and you scramble to fix your appearance, not having expected any visitors this late in the evening.

When you open the door, you’re met with the last person you expected to find there. He’s uncertain, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous. But Javier Peña doesn’t do shy. Reckless and haphazard, perhaps, but not shy. Not like this.

Why is he here? Did Crosby die, or something? You couldn’t imagine why else he’d be here right now.

“W-What happened? Is he alright?” You ask, stuttering in your panic.

He holds his hand out to steady you, firm fingers clasped firmly around your delicate wrist. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry. I just came to return this. I uh- found it in the break room, beneath a pile of magazines.” 

He holds up your planner. But he doesn’t hold it out to you, too scared of you kicking him to the curb once you’ve got it. Before he even has a chance to figure out why he’s here.

“Oh my God! Really? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief, still coming down from your earlier panic.

“Yeah.”

He looks up to the ceiling, not quite sure how to handle the fact you’re quite underdressed; the top buttons of your blouse are undone, revealing the way your breasts are barely contained by the thin satin adorning them. And underneath your skirt, your legs are bare too, a sight that had haunted Javier’s dirty dreams since he first saw them that night with your friends. 

When you’d opened the door, your sweet little gasp of surprise caused his cock to stir in his jeans, and now he’d set his sights on your body, he wanted to hear it again, as he held your thigh against his chest whilst he fucked you deep into the bed.

Shit. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you; feel what it’s like to hold your attention completely for a while. Feel you clamping down on him as you said fuck expectations and succumbed to the chaos of carnal pleasure. Pleasure that he was desperate to give you. 

You weren’t a conquest. Not at all. It was just that Javier knew how much you were holding back and holding out on yourself, and he wanted to be the one to show you what it could be like to let loose. To let go and be a little kinder to yourself.

Leaning in closer, he coerces your eyes to meet his, and the intensity of his stare has slick pooling between your thighs. He didn’t even need to touch you. You’d give him anything he asked for.

“So, uh … what’s on the agenda for tonight, then?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Nothing.” 

Your eyes peer up at him. Your want, need and craving staring back at him. It has to be now, he thinks.

“Fuck!” He curses, before his body’s moving yours, walking you back into your apartment with his hands on your hips. 

“Javier! W-what?” You ask, but you don’t get the chance to reply when his lips on yours successfully quiets you. 

“Javier! We should … We should- shouldn’t be-”

“Shouldn’t be doing what, huh?” He counters, his tone laced with amusement.

You don’t have an answer for him, instead your hand grips the back of his neck to pull his mouth back to yours, and in return, you feel him smile through his kisses.

When you reach your bedroom, you situate yourself on the bed whilst pawing at Javier desperately. His belt. His hair. The leather covering his broad shoulders. Your hands reach for whatever they can get. 

“Sweetheart.” He exhales, his voice trying its best to hide his impatience. 

His eyes unable to get enough of you like this, you watch as they roam up along your bare legs, taking in the rare sight of you sans stockings as you lay back on the bed, your supple skin the perfect contrast to the crisp white sheets beneath you. 

His gaze having soaked up enough of your body to drive himself crazy, he eventually moves it upwards to admire your face; the innocence mixed with pent-up frustration divulging how much you need to be touched. How much you need someone to unravel you from head to toe.

“I need-” You begin. “I need it, Javier.” It being every unspoken desire you harbour for this man. Everything you want him to do to you, but you’re too scared to admit. 

“I need more than that. Words, baby. What do you need?”

“I-I need you to show me. Show me what it’s like to let loose … like you said.” Your voice trembles slightly, not used to acting on your wants.

That’s all Javier needs to hear to give him the green light. Then, he’s back on you, mouth latching to any inch of skin he can reach. Trailing kisses down the v of your cleavage, stopping only when your blouse cuts off his access to the heaven below, he moves off the bed to stand beside it.

“Take your clothes off. I need to see you.” He tells you.

“Are you seriously asking me to strip for you?” Your voice is hesitant, worried you’re not going to match up to his other girls if that’s the level of sexy he expected from you. “Is this what it’s always like?” You ask. “With the others?”

“No, fuck I- … I’ll mess up the buttons on your pretty shirt if I try. Maybe you should-”

You cut him off. “Yeah, that’s good.”

He watches you unfasten each button, one by one, and you’re taking too long for his liking. It’s not deliberate on your part, it’s just that you’re wearing satin and the garment had to be handled delicately. By the time he’s removed his leather jacket and his shirt, you haven’t even made it past your tits. 

It’s not enough. There are still too many parts of you concealed from him, and Javier decides that messing up the buttons wouldn’t be that bad after all, as he replaces your nimble fingers with his own rough hands, opening your shirt with a few harsh tugs before wrangling it over your head. 

When he’s gotten it off, he tosses the somewhat wrecked garment aside before hiking your skirt up to pool around your tummy, and his rough touch has you moaning loudly.

“Javier…” You whine.

“Javi, baby. You call me Javier when I’m getting on your nerves at work.” He gives you a cheeky smile, relaxing you. “This is different.”

You try it out, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue. “J-Javi …” You moan, deciding it tastes good in your mouth.

“There you go, baby.” He praises, his face lighting up at your submission, but also at the fact you seem to be enjoying yourself, as that’s all he wants out of this; for you to feel good.

He kisses and nips at the soft skin of your belly whilst he tugs your panties down your legs. They stick to your pussy, at first, due to how much slick has gathered within them, but you lift your hips eagerly to help him, and Javier’s taken aback by just how vocal you’re proving to be. How pretty the sounds you’re making are. 

However, he doesn’t know that you’ve already written this off as being a one-time thing. You figured that If you were only going to be able to have him once, you might as well go all in and enjoy yourself. Right?

Having stripped you of your panties, he quickly pockets them in his jeans, but not quick enough for it to escape your notice. 

“What are you going to do with those?” 

Your expression is guarded, concern causing you to shift back up the bed slightly. Javier’s stomach drops as he sees you slip away from him slightly, and he’s consumed by the need to reassure you.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do.” He says, hand gently working your calf to relax you. “Do you trust me?”

You probably shouldn’t, but you do. “Yes.”

“Good.” He taps his pocket with your underwear inside. “A precaution. You’ll have to speak to me again after this. If you want these back, of course.” 

It’s the way that even his filth is somehow laced with sweetness that comforts you, and you settle closer to him on the bed, allowing his hands access to your body again. His experience now blatantly obvious to you, Javier swiftly slips your bra off, mouth instantly latching on to your nipple as he teases it with his tongue.

“Javiiii … “ You whine, writhing under his touch. Hand caught in his soft curls, your fingers press his head closer to you, which is frankly impossible, but still, you try; unable to get enough of him.

“What, baby? What is it, huh?” 

Arching your back as his tongue swipes at a particularly sensitive spot, you mewl. “Touch me, please.”

He lifts his mouth from your tit with a wet pop. “What do you mean?” He asks with a smirk. “Looks like I’m already doing that, no?”

Javier’s greeted with a cute, yet frustrated grumble from you. “Touch me there.”

“Where?” He knows you won’t explicitly tell him where, but he continues to tease it out of you. 

“You want me to touch your pretty cunt?”

“Oh my God …” You cry out. “You’re so dirty.”

Taking your words as praise, he finds himself needing to prove to you how dirty he can be. 

He flips you onto your belly, and as you go to raise yourself up on your forearms, he beats you to it, pulling your ass up and causing your back to arch. Shoving your skirt out of the way, he leans over you for a moment, tangling his hand in your hair as he massages your scalp, subtly pushing your head further into the pillows. It’s a signal. It says relax, I’ve got you. But it also says don’t move, this is exactly how I want you.

You lose it when his mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue licking thick stripes through your folds as you open up for him. 

“Fuuuck!” His lips suckle and kiss your hole in a wet frenzy, as you squeal before quietly cursing yourself for being so noisy.

Javier watches you plant your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your sounds of pleasure. He reaches a big hand back into your hair to turn your head sideways, as he urges you. “Don’t hide from me, baby. This sweet little pussy deserves to feel good.” 

His words are made even filthier by the sounds of him mouthing kisses on your cunt. You moan for him, louder this time. “It tastes so good, too, just like honey. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” You beg. 

Javier stops. He lifts his mouth from your centre, only to spit on it. A mixture of your slick and his spit runs down, past your hole and onto the sheets below you; the lewd sound of his fingers toying with your combined juices has your shoulders digging further into the bed. He’s driving you wild.

His fingers nudging at your entrance, you call out to him. “Javi … m-maybe we should slow down, we’re getting the bed all wet.” Your hands fist the sheets, hoping to draw his attention to the soaked fabric as your eyes plead with him.

Pausing the exploration of his fingers, Javier moves his head to the side to check your expression. You look embarrassed. Ashamed of feeling this good, and he can’t have that. He’s not used to women who are so stubborn in receiving pleasure. 

But then again, you weren’t most women, and that’s what drew him to you in the first place.

“Sweetheart, you say the word and we’ll stop.” He reassures you, and you shoot him a grateful, yet timid smile in return.

“But you shouldn’t ever feel embarrassed about this.” His thumb finds a pearl of wetness pooling at your entrance and he drags it up, smearing it everywhere, and you feel it too, as the cool air hits the slick now covering your ass cheeks. 

“This, is so fucking sexy, princesa. And it’s going to get messier, still, when you come on my mouth.” 

Princess, he calls you again. And the way your pussy clamps down on nothing tells him you like this pet name, after all.

“Ah!” 

“You good?” He asks, his concern genuine.

“G-Good.” You squeak in reply, before stretching out on the bed again.

And with your affirmation, he ducks his head down to bury his face in your pussy, again. But this time, he’s increased his force; his tongue darting inside your hole whilst one hand grips your thigh tightly. The other finds its way back into your hair, caressing your scalp and gently tugging to coax you further out of your shell. 

“J-Javi!” You moan his name again, liking the way the sound of it moves through your body. Like it was yours to keep, for just one night. 

“Yeah, you like that baby?” He goads, mouth never leaving the paradise between your legs as his nose nudges your swollen clit. You feel every syllable vibrate through you. “You like getting your cunt eaten?” 

“Javi, please.” You whine, volume no longer a concern of yours.

He knows you’re close, can feel you throb against his tongue, and your thigh shakes underneath his hand. He moves both hands to spread your cheeks, allowing him to dive even deeper and tongue-fuck you even harder.

“That’s it princesa. Sweet girl. I’ve got you. Give it all to me.” He coos, lapping at your clit to draw out your orgasm. 

You come in a symphony of whines, mewls and cries. Your pussy soaking his face, as well as the sheets, just as he promised you. 

And Javier works you through it, drinking up your nectar and prolonging your orgasm until your body falls flat on the bed in exhaustion. He figures it had been a while for you, so it was no surprise that you looked as though he’d just fucked you to sleep. 

Now pliant in his arms, he moves his hand back to your head, petting you as you come down. “That’s it, baby. So fucking good for me. You did so well, huh?”

“Javi … “ You groan, voice hoarse from all the noise you made. His grip on your hair is firm enough that you feel yourself leaking again, already, and you reach behind yourself to feel him.

“Shhhh, baby. I’m right here. What do you want?”

Everything you have.

Such a thought scares you, and so you turn onto your back to tell him. “It’s fine, I-I’m all good now … you should-.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what you want.” So stubborn, he thinks. Can’t you see he needs you just as bad?

The sound that comes out of your mouth is just above a whisper. “You, Javi. I want you.”

You sound so sweet, beckoning him to you like that, and he pushes your legs apart before pushing a finger into your sopping heat, soon adding another when you purr for him.

“Well, you’ve got me, alright. You didn’t even need to ask nicely.” He smirks at you, and you would’ve rolled your eyes had he not been taking you apart with his fingers so good. 

Reaching for his belt, you coo to him. “I want to touch you, s’not fair …”

And, well, Javier would be a fool to deny you. He makes quick work of his belt and zipper before pulling his jeans off, and then he’s kneeling on the bed. Right in front of you, where you can see him; throbbing, the tip flushed red, aching for the touch of a woman. 

He gives himself a few firm tugs, before groaning out as his strokes get faster. His gaze locks on you. Your eyes blown wide, lips parted and tongue peeking out in thirst, as you arch your hips up towards him. 

“Fuck.” He leans forward to capture your lips, but your hand on his chest stops him halfway.

You look up at him in expectation, your eyes unsure of what it is you’re asking for.

“What is it? Are you okay?” He asks in earnest. 

“I … I want to see you … touch it.” You say, voice as soft as a kitten.

And Javier groans. He settles his legs on either side of you as his hand returns to his cock. You can see that he’s teasing himself, playing with the tip and smearing his precum down the underside. Is that for your benefit? It’s somehow become more than a little friendly stress relief between colleagues; he’s showing off for you.

“Baby!” You whine, hands grabbing at his forearms to stop him.

Well that was unexpected. But he liked it. Liked the way you were getting into it enough to call him baby. Releasing his cock from his grip, he looks at you. You reach for his soft brown curls again, pulling him down to your lips.

Between kisses, he taunts. “Thought you wanted to watch, princesa. Huh?”

“I’ve seen enough. I need you to … “

“Need me to what?” His expression plays at being serious, but his tone tells you he’s teasing. 

He knows you don’t want to say it, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“I need you to … “ You begin, but you can’t say it. “I need you …” You beg, instead, wrapping a leg around his lower back in an attempt to get his cock inside of you.

Javier chuckles at this. He should’ve known you wouldn’t be willing to admit what you’re about to do. With a wrecked sigh, he grabs your thighs and pulls your sweet cunt onto his cock.

The sounds you both let out excite each other further, and as Javier opens you up on his hardness, you mewl at the stretch. It stings perfectly, reminding you, once again, that your experience is no match for his. You squirm on the bed desperately as he gives you more of himself.

“So tight.” He grits. “Doing so good, princesa. Taking me so well. Look at that … “ He marvels, looking down to where your pussy is stretched out around him. He pulls out slightly to show you how your juices have soaked him. “Already, huh?”

You let out a high pitch, girlish sound at the depraved sight. There couldn’t be any doubt. That was you. Your body taking his, and it fills you with a peculiar sense of pride.

He pulls out again, teasing your clit with the tip; tapping it against your nub until he’s satisfied that you’ll have to throw these sheets out with how wet you’ve gotten them. It catches on the rim of your hole a few times as he pushes it back inside, eventually getting tired of his own teasing and pushing in all the way.

“Fuck, yesss.” You praise, your hand fumbling to hold his. Javier gives you one of his hands and you intertwine it with your own, resting it atop your hip. His other hand, however, holds your leg, spreading it wide as he fucks into you deeply.

He’s on his knees, his back straight as he drives forward, and your hips are raised, almost as if you’re perched on his legs. Javier fucks you until you’re both spent, and as you both near your peaks, he crawls up to lean over you; mouth pressed to your ear, tongue licking at your skin whilst he fills your ear with pure filth. 

His change of position has you practically bent in half, your hips lifting off the bed as he pounds you down into the mattress.

“Princesa …” He rasps. “Need you to come on my cock … show me how much you like it.”

“J-Javi … “ Your hands tug at his hair roughly, cunt clenching down on his thickness.

His thumb rubs your clit faster now, as you get louder. “How much you like the way I fuck this sweet little pussy like it’s mine. Always so uptight, huh? Turns out you just needed to get fucked like one of my girls-”

You cry out as your orgasm hits you, and as you come all over him, Javier talks you through it. His thrusts now slower, but deeper. 

Again, you roll your head to the side, hoping to drown your cries in the pillow, but Javier quickly sets it back in place, needing to hear it all come out.

“That’s it. There’s my feisty princesa … let it all out.” He coos.

And he wants to sneak a glance at where you’re soaking him, but he’s taken by the innocent look in your eyes as you let go for him.

Forehead now pressed against yours, he kisses your face whilst soothing you with his soft gaze. And the way you’re looking back at him reassures Javier that his last comment didn’t offend you. 

Who knew you secretly liked his filthiness?

Satisfied you’re finished cumming, he pulls out and begins jerking himself over you.

“Javi, baby.” You coo. “I want to see you. Want to feel you on my skin.” 

It’s the gentleness within your voice that sends him over the edge and Javier comes in spurts, painting the skin above your mound with his seed. Some of it spills onto your pussy, too, and he feels another wave rush over him as he watches his cum coat your puffy hole. 

“Fuck.” He curses, nose nuzzling your throat before he collapses beside you. 

“Yeah … “ 

He places a quick kiss on your lips. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

You nod, trying to curb your enthusiasm by biting your lip. But Javier can see through it, considering he’s an agent.

Or was it because he’d gotten better at reading you? 

“Thanks.” You offer awkwardly.

“Jesus Christ … “ A large hand palms his face. “Please tell me you didn’t just thank me. I’m not an escort, no matter what you might think.”

That has you giggling, quietly. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Javier.”

Javier. 

So you were back to that, huh? Javier feels himself tense at the change of address.

Deciding to give himself a moment, he tells you. “I’ll be right back.” Before getting up and heading into the bathroom.

He returns a moment later with something to clean you up. As he softly swipes the cloth over your sensitive folds, he searches for something in your expression. Something he can’t seem to define.

Leave it alone, he reminds himself as he settles back on the bed, next to you. You feel his chest press against your side as he hovers over you, hand caressing your hip, whilst his eyes avoid yours.

“Well, um … I guess that’s it. Wow … “ You say, dazed, as though you’d never truly experienced pleasure before.

Without asking you, of course, he lights a cigarette. “Well, you know where to find me … “ He says, voice trailing off in implication.

“That won’t be necessary.” You chuckle. 

“I should probably get back to searching for a husband.”

“You know, I’ve got a five-year plan waiting on me.” You breathe, and Javier notices that you almost look unsure. “What about Van Ness? He’s one of your agents, right?”

“What about him?” He replies.

“I see him around the office … he’s cute. Is he single?” 

“Princesa … “ He groans, and you cut him off.

“I thought we were done with that whole thing now.” Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly shy. 

He hums in thought. “Never had a woman talk about another man whilst she’s in bed with me.” Tutting, he pretends to appear offended. 

Yes. Pretends.

You give him another girlish giggle, and it warms his blood again.

“Well … Is he single?” You repeat, eyes alight with hope.

Huffing out, he reaches over to the ashtray on the nightstand. “You’ll have to ask him.” 

“You haven’t thought it all through though. Not properly.” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where do you want to live when you’re married? Colombia?”

You shake your head.

“Van Ness is DEA. We’re the kind of guys that find it hard to settle down in one place. I can’t see him leaving Colombia just yet, not whilst the action’s still here … “ 

He’s got a point, though you hate to admit it.

“Whatever.” You groan. “No DEA guys then.”

“Except me.” He interjects, smirking at you.

“Including you!”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Javier moves his body over yours, looking down at you with a gaze so intensely affectionate, it renders you speechless.

But then his signature, winning smile returns. “What I’m hearing … princesa. Is that your search is futile, right now. As long as you’re in Colombia, anyway.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, and you can’t help but open up for him. It seems as though he’s unlocked a new weapon to torment you with; his touch. As, currently, you’re unable to resist even the slightest sensation: a featherlight graze of his fingertips on your body.

“The way I see it. You might as well enjoy yourself some more. Marriage is always going to be there.” 

He winks at you, and you want to throttle him. Like that day in your office, when he’d interrupted your call. 

But you end up doing something else.

You close your lips around his thumb, sucking him further into your warmth, whilst simultaneously staring daggers into him. 

Always so stubborn, Javier’s reminded.

“There’s my feisty girl, huh?”

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

Taglist for this fic: @gracieispunk @queerponcho @darkerskylines @soaringcloud @kirsteng42

Shoutout to the bestie, @gracieispunk for helping me out with this and for taking my initial ideas to the next level with your genius. Eternally grateful for your support! <3

[spencerkeg]

Stardew valley… but if the roles were all swapped around

I'll do some gals next... Eventually -w-

Character traits and relationships under the cut!

As it says on his sheet, Dr Alex Mullner was an aspiring gridball star that suffered a major injury. I think that experience humbled him in a way and he's a lot less arrogant now. He's still charming and a bit smug at times be he has the same sensitive side deep down.

I couldn't BEAR for evelyn and George to be swapped with anyone else or for them to not be his grandparents... So I just decided that whoever the NEW Alex is- is his cousin lol

He's got most of his original personality but I think he has a lot of Harvey's intelligence as well. Of course being a doctor he would need that- but harvey is also considerate of other's feelings and I think Dr Alex would be just as sweet.

In terms of.... Lurv 💕. He feels like he's missed his prime. He doesn't regret becoming a doctor but he can't deny that this was never the plan. He's a little dense in terms of who could possibly be interested in him (like harvey lol). He just needs a farmer to come pay him some special attention and listen to him geek out about football and excersize ❤️

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

Think of samuel as one of those musicians on the internet that likes making sick mashups. But also he'll try and combine way too many and then make them all v electronic and synthy so it can be wild to listen too. But it makes sense to him at least!

Of course he's a gamer... He has to be. I think it's more things like shooters or bizarre indie games than strategy rpgs like og sebby likes. Also duh guitar hero.

He's way less anxious than the typical sebastian but he's just as stoic, if not more so. He hardly reacts to anything but his words are always very kind. Getting to know him means you can tell when he's happy or upset even when he gives you the same blank stare.

He's not even thinking about love. It never even crossed his mind the farmer would be into him until they ask him out. He probably turns them down at first while still thinking and figuring out how he feels lol only to realize at like 1am that he does in fact like them back ❤️