#I mean look at thi s

[loveisinthebat]

Extreme Quality Baby

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[tunafruitt]

--> || ❝ I’m The Favorite! ❞

Reverse! Isekai/SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, some crack :3, gender neutral reader

[ Reverse Isekai with the genshin boys !! A day out for the first time since they were somehow transported into your world… ] [word count: 1.9k]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, ITTO, KAEYA, DILUC, CHILDE, KAVEH, XIAO, AL HAITHAM

“Your Grace, with all due respect… THIS ISN’T FAIR AT ALL!”

“I understand what you’re saying Venti but I can’t bring all 20-something of you outside… 8 people is already too much! An average friend group has around 3-4 people and I’m bringing double that! I promise I’ll take the rest of you out some other day.”

Hearing consecutive sighs of disappointment, you turn to look at the rest of the men. They were visibly upset. It’s not that you DON’T want to bring them all outside! Really! It’s just that some… or, most, of them have features that would stand out in a public setting. Take Gorou and Tighnari for example! Their ears could maybe be hidden for some minutes at a time using a hood or beanie, but what about their tails? Not to mention ITTO. He literally has the most red, obvious horns.

You did your best to make them look somewhat normal. Kaveh and Wanderer could pass as a normal citizen if you removed some accessories, but characters like Diluc and Neuvillette couldn’t. So it was up to you to dress them up! Yayyy!!!

No. This was NOT an easy job. Diluc’s bright red hair couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard you tried. Neuvillette’s long hair could maybe pass as normal... maybe. His horns though? I guess you’ll have to go with the “Oh! Why are they dressed like that? Well you see, my friends just left a cosplay convention a while ago. They look cool right? Yeah.” Excuse.

You gave them what you had left in your closet. What did fit them were sweats, loose pants, pajamas and some old shirts. It was odd not seeing them in their usual complex and pretty outfits. The buffer and more muscular characters looked (not surprisingly) attractive in your shirts… they were tight just around the right spots. They noticed your eyes in their direction with your face ever so slightly flushed, but decided to not say anything about it. ( THEY KNOW.)

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

With the boys dressed up and ready, it was finally time to head out! The people you brought with you were: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Kaveh, Xiao and Al Haitham.

Xiao insisted on being the one to “protect you”. Denying his request felt awkward for some reason…

Kaveh had been interested in the simple and strangely large buildings cramped next to each other. You wouldn’t be so mean to deny his request to go see some of them in person right?

Al Haitham was interested about your world and wanted to learn more about it, maybe he’d find some books that weren’t all fiction and romance.

You’d feel bad if you only brought one Ragnvindr brother.. so you brought both. You also didn’t want to hear Kaeya bickering with Diluc about him going out on a “date” (it wasn’t.) with the Creator.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley look a bit intimidating so maybe they’d scare people off. Who would’ve known you’d have two scary looking men protecting and looking after you?

And Childe….. well he’s Childe. He was stuck to your hip.

You didn’t really know where to go.. The park? A restaurant? A supermarket? All of these options were a bit difficult since they’re usually filled with people. Of course, no matter where you go there’s likely to be people, but it’d be easier to not have to be completely and utterly aware of every stranger around you in fear that they might find out who the men you brought with you actually are. Your only option was to ask them if they had an idea or if they wanted to visit an area.

“Oh! Can we go to one of those food places you’ve talked about before? What is it called.. uh.. curly… curly fries..?”

“Jack in the Box. The name is Jack in the Box, Childe.” Wriothesley remembers every little thing you talked to yourself about when the only way they were able to feel you was through a screen. All of them would listen to you talk about a movie you watched, something funny that happened, or gossip that was spreading around your school or workplace. Anything.

You let out a small chuckle at their conversation. Their recommendation isn’t bad you think. All they’ve been eating is whatever you had back at home, since ordering takeout for more than 20 people would be wayyyyy too expensive.

So a fast food restaurant it is!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The walk there was…. tedious. Childe was trying his best to not wander off, he really was! But there was so many new things he’d never seen before, so it’s not his fault. Neuvillette was probably the calmest out of everyone. He was right by your side following your lead. Maybe holding onto your arm once or twice.. on accident! (it wasn’t) Xiao was observing his surroundings a little too hard.. yeah this is all new to him, but I guess he was serious about protecting you. Though you didn’t really need it with 7 tall men around you.

“Mortals… The need for human interaction is what makes them weak.”

Diluc and Kaeya would not SHUT UP. If you passed by a bar, Kaeya would ask if he could go in, just for a second! He just wants to see how different they are from the ones in Mondstadt, really. Diluc would follow up with “You’re no better than that… that drunkard Venti.”

Kaveh would stop mid-street to look at the buildings...

“These buildings are so… long. How do they hold up so much weight? It’s impressive! What would they need so many floors for though… Why is there a man’s face as the logo in that restaurant? Oh! He’s glowing?”

“If you get ran over by one of those vehicles it’ll be your fault.”

“Huh? Al Haitham! YOUR GRACE! Wait for me!”

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The next problem was choosing what to eat. Ordering food for 8 people, not including yourself, was expensive. You knew that! But you didn’t mentally prepare for the bill.

“Oh god…”

“Your Grace? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Eat up! We can go somewhere else after this if you want.”

You had realized that a woman had passed by your table countless times. She was very obviously staring at the men, looking almost flustered? Oh, she must think they’re attractive.

……

SHE THINKS THEYRE ATTRACTIVE??!

Okay. Thats okay. As long as she doesn’t ask for their numb—

“Uh-uhm.. excuse me, sir. Can I have your number? Or.. just Instagram is fine too.” She was staring directly at Wriothesley. You should’ve known letting him go out in a tight shirt and loose pants would’ve attracted more people.

“Uhh.. Pardon me, ma’am. Number…? As in… prisoner number..?” The Duke had an obvious confused and conflicted look on his face.

“Huh?”

“Aha.. ha… forgive him. He’s taken! So he can’t give out his number to just anyone.”

“Oh.. S-sorry. Forgive me I’ll just— I’ll get going.“ She was very obviously embarrassed over this whole ordeal.

“What did she mean by number, your grace?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it…”

The group of men began to eat. (Neuvillette ordered a cup of iced water and Xiao didn’t eat anything.)

“Your Grace, there’s some food on the corner of your mouth.. Here. Let me help.” As Kaeya was about to reach his hand and wipe off the food with his thumb, there was thud on the window next to your table. Huh? It’s Itto.

It’s Itto?

“WHAT THE HELL. HOW DID HE GET HERE!?” You whispered screamed as turned to Itto. Did he follow you here? Was he here this whole time????

Through the glass Itto was saying something. His voice was muffled but you could make some things out.

“Your Grace! Don’t let this… this BUFFOON touch you! I, Arataki Itto will volunteer instead!”

You let out a loud sigh. You had to go get him… imagine seeing a tall, buff man with white hair and what looks like horns with a black hoodie up against a restaurants window…

Yeah that looks weird from an outsiders view.

You signal to the rest of the men to follow you out. When you got outside you wanted to tell Itto to never do something like that again… but he looked so sad, almost like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry Your Grace… I just wanted to accompany you! I might have gotten a teenyyy tinyyyy bit distracted on the way. You never told me there was so many cool lookin’ beetles in your world! There was one that that was very small and red with black spots, probably not useful for beetle fighting though. And I also saw some… uh.. not to disrespect anyone but there was a really weird lookin’ dog..”

SIGHHHHHH. You started to wonder what would have happened if he really had gotten lost, or what if someone recognized him? The thought of losing one of the men scared you. Would you be to blame if one of them never made it back to Teyvat?

“Itto… I love you and everything, but never do something like this again. What if we never found you? What would have happened then? I think we should head back home..”

Itto was on the verge of tears. He’s had more beans thrown at him than he could count, but nothing ever hurt as much as this.

It took Itto a while to process that you had also said you loved him.

“M’ bad Your Grace.. I won’t follow you next time… but, I love you too Your Grace!!”

The men turned to him SO FAST?? Xiao was about to take his spear out, Al Haitham looked DISGUSTED. Kaveh and Childe’s jaws were wide OPEN.

“DUDE YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

“Childe’s right, we all love Our Grace, not just you.” Diluc only said this because he wanted to be the one to say “I love you”, but you didn’t need to know that. If it was for anything else he would never agree with a harbinger.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Why can’t I love and appreciate our beloved Creator? You guys are all just mad that I, the Number One Oni, Arataki Itto, am Your Grace’s FAVORITE.”

“WHAT? NO! Your Grace is that true?”

How many sighs have you let out today? This must be a full time job because you just let out another sigh.

“No, it’s not. I love all of you equally! Don’t start any problems with each other in public, please… We should be heading home anyways. Look at the sky, the sun will set soon.”

Almost in synch, the men respond “Yes, Your Grace!”

Seeing them like this made you feel all happy and giddy… It was nice seeing them together with you in the picture. You smiled at them and they just stared. They waited for you to turn around before looking at each other almost competitively. It was clear that each and every one of them wanted you for themselves in some way.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

It was finally time to head home!!! After one long and exhausting day, you finally made it back.

The rest of the men were waiting patiently for you (Venti, Wanderer, Lyney and Heizou had to be held back by Albedo, Dainsleif and Pierro.)

“*SNIFF* AUGH.. YOUR GRACE! *SNIFF* WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“Hi, Venti… I missed you all too..” Venti’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, while he cried onto your shoulder.

“Your Grace, you’re here!” Thoma looked.. tired. Just what happened while you were gone? You decided to ask just incase.

“Hi Thoma, and everyone else. Did anything happen while me and the others were gone?” You had a gut feeling that something happened… they were unusually quiet… too quiet.

“A fight broke out between The Puppet and Cyno.”

“WHAT??”

AAAAAHHHHHHH thank you so much for 200 notes on my last fic omg y’all got me giggling to myself and spinning in my bed stop.. First long fic!!1!1! I plan on making little comic based off of the “The Creator has a.. LOVER?!” fic with the Zhongli and Venti scene with reader!! Yayyy! I Hope u guys enjoy this AUGH it makes me so happy to see people liking my noob writing thats really just me writing my thought and daydreams ilyily

[the-oblivious-writer]

Daylight |1|

Amber Freeman to Eventual Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter one: It's Nice to Have a Friend

Summary: You are enjoying a pleasant evening with Tara when things escalate for the worse when you answer a phone call from your girlfriend, Amber. There's only one person who can get your day back on track

Warning(s): Swearing, toxic!amber x reader, arguing, & implied anxiety

Notes: first chapter out. finally.

Masterlist|Next Part

You were currently napping at your desk, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your trigonometry teacher drowned on about—something, you couldn’t really think right now. You were up until three in the morning preparing for your physics exam. You would be risking your spot on the football team if you got anything that wasn’t passing.

So here you were, knocked out in the middle of math, when all of a sudden something smacks the side of your face. It’s enough to get your attention, waking you up before you look around with a puzzled expression. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the folded piece of paper that had hit you.

you drool when you sleep, the note read. You peaked to your left, glancing at the girl who sat one over from you. A smile began to graze your face when you realized who had thrown you the note. You wrote a reply on the corner of the paper before swiftly passing it back to the girl.

When she looked over to you, you were already looking up ahead as if nothing. She read the note; at least i dont watch people while they’re sleeping creep. She couldn’t help but smirk down at the note, playfully rolling her eyes before ripping off another piece of paper from her notebook to roll into a ball and throw it at you. You narrow your eyes at her but she’s imitating a confused look.

Then the sound of your teacher clearing his throat could be heard. “Ahem. Tara and Y/N, is there something you would like to share?”

You and Tara make eye contact before looking back at the teacher. 

“No, Mr. Quinn,” Tara said before you followed with, “No, sir.”

After a second he nodded, “Alright then—as I was saying.” He turned back around, continuing the lesson. 

When the class was over, Tara walked over as you were packing your things. You could hear her impatience as you did so which caused you to roll your eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me,” you told her while zipping up your bag. 

“And you don’t have to be the slowest person alive, but here we are,” she countered as you both began to walk out of the classroom.

“Whatever—damn it these halls,” you grunt after somebody slams into you. “We’re doomed if the school’s ever set on fire.”

“I don’t care what the code or whatever is, if the school’s set on fire it’s every student for themselves,” Tara replies.

“You do know that means right?”

“What?” She knitted her eyebrows, looking up at you as the two of you continued to walk in the school’s halls.

“Tiniest people go first,” you answer—immediately making Tara shove your arm.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, her dimples showing as she lightly shook her head. Tara’s hand was still gripping your sleeve, an action that neither of you took notice of. She’s been your friend, your best friend, since you were six years old; a bit of physical touch was not uncommon in your friendship, never questioned. 

Both of you were now leaning against a vacant wall, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, another arm slipped around your waist, causing Tara to let go of your arm. It didn’t take long for this person to practically be clinging off of you—her arm around your waist, the index finger of her other hand hooked in one of your belt loops. 

Of course, who else could this person be than none other than your girlfriend; Amber Freeman. 

“Oh, hey Tara. Didn’t see you,” Amber backhandedly greeted without even looking at Tara. Amber had always been passive aggressive towards Tara. The Carpenter couldn’t explain it well if you asked her, but ever since they met—seventh grade—it’s like she has this vendetta against her. You were having lunch with Tara when Amber met you, and it didn’t take long for her to take a liking to you. She had developed a crush on you throughout middle school, it wasn’t until the summer before sophomore year that you and her got together.

And that is how the three of you were now in this hallway, Amber with her arm around your waist, your own arm around her shoulder, while Tara resisted the urge to gag at the PDA.

“I actually have to get going, but I’ll see you later?” Tara says as she starts to make a subtle exit. She no longer saw a reason to stay.

“Of course, see you around,” you send her a smile that she doesn’t hesitate to send back. That was something you could always count on her for. 

Your eyes don’t leave Tara until they lose track of her in the crowded hallway. Just seconds later you felt a tug on your belt loop and you looked down to see Amber.

“Are you coming to the party tonight? Marcy’s throwing it since her parents are out of town for the next few days,” your girlfriend explained. 

“Sorry, can’t tonight. I have to watch my little brother. Some other time?” Your tone was apologetic as you gently rubbed her lower back, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset you couldn’t make it to Marcy’s party. 

“Whatever. It’s fine,” was all she said—her voice monotone and dismissive—while she began to pull away. Your eyebrows furrowed at her actions and a pressure starts to envelop your chest. She started to turn to walk away from you and that’s when you reached for her hands.

“Hey,” you murmured loud enough for her to hear while you turned her back around to face you. “I’ll try and get the next one, okay?” You try to hold eye contact with her but she seems to find the ground more interesting. “I’m sorry, Ambs.” 

She finally looks up, sighing. “It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time,” you nod as you bite the inside of your cheek.

Amber looked at you, letting out another sigh before saying, “I’m fine, Y/N—really. You’ll get the next one.” That tightening feeling in your chest begins to loosen at her reassurance. “I have to go,” she gives you a kiss, deepening it just before pulling away. “I’ll text you this weekend?”

You hummed in response, and the two of you shared another kiss before you both set off for the day.

After making sure you had everything, you began to walk towards the main entrance—leaving the building before making your way to the spot where you and Tara meet up everyday after school. You always walk home together, pretty much since you first started becoming friends. 

You leaned against the pillar as you waited for Tara; it’s not like you didn’t see her just a few minutes earlier, so she shouldn’t be too long. You look out ahead, blankly staring at the patches of ice that covered the ground; it was windy out, so much in fact you felt as though you couldn’t go without five seconds of blinking or else you would start tearing up. Thank goodness for eyelids—

—“Boo!” You heard someone shout; you immediately jumped back, startled, your hands were raised and ready to swing at whoever or whatever. But any thoughts of fighting vanish when you look over to see the culprit. “Jesus fuck, Tara,” you suspired.

She’s laughing her ass off, both hands over her mouth. You let out a dramatic exhale before saying, “I’m gonna get you for this. Just wait.”

“Oh yeah?” She replied between giggles, “What are you gonna do? Throw a football at me?”

“You’ll see,” you warned while narrowing your eyes at her.

Tara was finally able to get herself to stop laughing. “Of course you will, tough guy.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled as the two of you began to walk. “So, got any plans on this incredibly dull Friday evening?” You inquired while digging through your pocket for your gloves.

“Mmm not really,” Tara answered. Her arms always had a slight sway to them as she walked; it’s something you’ve always noticed, it’s one of the things that’s never changed about her.

“Then are you free to come over? My parents are out of town and I’m still gonna be watching my brother, but he’s probably just gonna be playing video games with his friends the whole time anyway,” you said; your hands were still digging around in your pockets.

“Yeah, I’m down.” Tara looked at you with raised eyebrows before saying, “Um, you looking for something?”

You suddenly groaned when you realized, “Shit. I left my gloves at home.” You roll your eyes at your own forgetfulness before stuffing your hands back in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

“You can take mine,” Tara tells you. Without hesitation, she stops and begins to take off her own gloves but you put your hand over her own to stop her.

“Tara, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure her. 

At this point, you both have stopped walking. Tara shook her head at you, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just take them.”

“What about your hands?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Now who’s being stubborn?” Ugh, you were so annoying. How dare you use her own words against her.

“Fine. How about this, you take one glove and I keep the other one.” She looked at the hesitant look on your face before sighing, “If you don’t take it then I’ll just refuse to wear my gloves at all and then we’ll both freeze our hands off.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in, taking the other glove from Tara and putting it on. You slipped on only half of the glove before you realized something. “Wait. You don’t have pockets.” 

“Okay?” Tara looked at you confused.

“Where are you gonna put your ungloved hand?”

“Oh my God, I’ll be okay. I have—”

“—Warm blood? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” you chuckled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tara asked in a defensive tone.

“You said the same thing when we went to see No Way Home but all I could hear was your teeth clattering.”

“That is not true!”

“People complained!”

After a few moments of silence of seeing who would break first, you finally spoke up. “Okay. How about this, you use one of my pockets. Deal?”

“It’s not that deep,” Tara protested.

“...Deal?”

Tara rolled her eyes, shutting them as she sighed before looking at you again. “Deal.”

She got closer to you before you wrapped your arm around her, giving her right hand access to your right pocket. A smile grazed your face, “See now was that so hard, shortstack?” You teased as you lightly noogied her with your free hand. 

“You are such an ass and a half for that,” you heard her bitterly say.

“Yet you stay,” you said as you were both turning the corner to where your house was.

“I should’ve left you on that street corner where you were standing.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark while getting your key out of your pocket.

“Just shut up and open the door. It’s freezing and my feet still hurt from gym,” Tara complained, never dropping her hand from your pocket.

“Oh? I thought you were—what was it? ‘Warm blooded’ you said?” You smirked, beginning to turn the front door’s lock with your key. Tara started shoving you as soon as you unlocked the door.

“Hush,” she scolded you while taking off her shoes.

“No need to shove.” You kick off your shoes before placing them to the side. You and Tara make your way to the kitchen, placing your stuff down on the way in.

“Your parents already left?” Tara asked as you rummaged through your refrigerator.

“Yeah, they had to go to some funeral. Nobody I was close with though—I think it was a distant uncle,” you filled her in as you gave her one of the gatorades you pulled out of the fridge. “They should be back by tomorrow night,” you continued.

“And I’m assuming that’s your brother upstairs?”

Your little brother and his friends were currently yelling at each other over voice chat, you weren’t really sure what about but you knew it was video game related.

“Of course,” you said after taking a sip of your own gatorade, “Wanna head to my room or the basement?”

“Either’s fine, I’m honestly just beat. Anywhere I can lay down I’m totally open to,” Tara said while stretching out her arms.

“My room it is.”

—

“So,” Tara started; you were both on your bed, her legs on your lap as you both watched a show on your laptop, “what did the ice queen want when I left earlier?” The use of the nickname Tara had for Amber caused you to glance at her.

“Tara,” you said, giving her a look that matched your scolding tone. She mumbled something under her breath before you continued. “She just wanted to know if I could make it to a party tonight. I just said I couldn’t, and that was that.”

“Ah,” she replied in a monotone voice.

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, that was just a normal ‘ah.’”

“If you say so…” You both turn back to screen, Tara reaches over you to grab one of the snacks before you feel a buzz in your pocket; you looked down to see you got a message from Mindy.

“Who is it?” asked Tara, followed by her shoving a few gummy bears in her mouth.

“Your sister,” you replied without hesitation as you typed. 

She shoved you with her foot, glaring at you for your comment.

“Nah, just Mindy asking if I’ll be at the party—oh, and apparently Wes too.” Tara immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved her face against it, her loud groaning muffled. You laughed at her actions before continuing, “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Maybe he really is just curi—nevermind, I can’t even lie.” 

She let out an even louder groan. After a few more seconds, she finally picked up her head as she sighed. 

“We dated for like five minutes. That’s it.”

“You can’t blame the boy for being so obsessed with you. I mean, look at that face,” you teased as you pinched her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, harshly letting her head fall against your bed’s headboard. 

“Ow,” she winced. 

“14 year-old you just had to be polite,” you said while also moving your head to rest against your bed’s headboard. You tilted your head to face her, now looking at each other as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

“That isn’t …exactly what happened,” her eyes trailed down to her lap.

“It’s exactly what happened. You would’ve felt too guilty to say no because his pet hamster had just died.”

“Ugh.”

“How come you’re never that nice to me?” You feigned a pout while reaching for your phone that was now vibrating in your back pocket. “Uh. I gotta take this. Gimme a sec.”

Tara didn’t have to ask who it was. She already knew from the shift in your demeanor and attitude.

“Hey…” Tara heard you trail off as you left the room. You closed the door, going off to the side and leaning against the wall.

“Hey.” Amber’s greeting was curt and monotone. Nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say next. 

“What’s up babe?” You hoped that your voice didn’t show how nervous you were.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. What is this I’m hearing about you and Anika?” Shit. You know you should’ve told her sooner, you still would’ve gotten heat for it but at least it would’ve came from you and not a gossiping cheerleader just trying to stir up trouble.

“It’s nothing bad—I just need some help in physics and she agreed to tutor me,” you tried to explain as straight-forward as you could. 

“How do you conveniently fail to mention this? We saw each other not long ago, yeah? So how come I have to hear about this from Daphne?” 

“There’s nothing else going on other than studying. She just—”

“She just what?!”

“She just offered! She overheard me talking to Chad about needing to get my grade up!” 

“Yeah right, Y/N! Everyone knows she has a thing for you, don’t be so naive,” she scolded as if you were a troublesome child. “I bet this is why you didn’t want to come to the party tonight.”

“Are you kidding? I told you, I have to watch my brother tonight. And Anika does not have a thing for me. Why can’t people just be nice to me without you freaking out?” Now you were pacing back and forth.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to freak out if you would just tell me these things beforehand!” She shouted.

A familiar tightness in your chest grew with each word she threw at you, and your tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of your mouth. What could you possibly say when you knew it wouldn’t suffice? You knew nothing you said would matter. You knew she wouldn’t have any of it.

“And you fail to notice half the school wants you—but once again, you’re just being naive! But I’m just your lame girlfriend, right? I don’t matter?”

You manage a scoff at her words. “Who—when did I say that?”

“Yeah go ahead, act like I’m insane. That I’m just making it all up in my head,” Amber went on as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m sorry, I just—”

“So you’re saying I’m not making this all up in my head? That I should worry about this?” This remark only made you even more exasperated from how insane it all sounded. This is insane, right? You’re not losing it? There really is no winning with this woman. 

“What? No! Of course not. Please just tell me what the right thing to say is.”

Then there was a pause that lasted a little over five seconds, but it felt longer. After the pause, you could hear Amber sigh over the phone. “I just need space right now.”

“I feel like… I feel like you always need space,” you confessed, aggravation at the tip of your voice. 

“Have you ever considered this is why? Maybe I wouldn’t need so much space if you would actually learn to listen to me for once,” she sourly shot back. Although she was no longer shouting, you could feel her burning frustration through the phone. You were all too familiar with her pattern of emotions when it came to disagreements with her. 

“I am listening but—”

“Clearly you’re not if there’s a ‘but’ to that.” Amber let out a dry laugh. “This is exactly why I need space; why we need space. When you wanna start acting like my girlfriend—you know where to reach me.”

She didn’t give you a chance to plead your case any further, hanging up the phone just as she spoke her last words.

You let your head hit the nearby wall as you slumped down to sit on the floor, groaning out. You tucked in your knees close to your chest before dropping your head to rest on them.

God, how could you be so stupid? You should know better by now—right? It’s not like you haven't had the same argument with Amber over and over again. It was routine at this point. Literally all your fights go about the same. 

You picked at your jeans, silently murmuring to yourself as you replayed the argument in your head. 

“Fine. Take your space. I don’t care.” Your chin rested on your free arm that laid on your knees as your other free hand continued to pick at your pants. “Are people not allowed to be nice to me? I don’t say anything when she studies with other people. What’s so different about me? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise…” 

Just then, the door opened. You looked over to your right, completely forgetting you were just outside your bedroom door. You looked up to see Tara staring down at you as she leaned against the door frame.

“Hey,” she greeted, walking over to sit in the vacant spot next to you on the floor. 

“Hi.” 

"Talking to yourself?" She quipped, jokingly, as a way to lighten the mood.

"You know me," you said. But Tara saw through to your thrown attitude.

“You okay?” She asked once she sat down.

“I’m… alright.” You responded, now looking at her. “Just the usual, you know.” There was a pause and a look that Tara was giving; you broke, sighing as you stared back down to your own fingers before speaking again. “She, uh, found out about Anika tutoring me. I guess she’s not Anika’s biggest fan or something.”

Tara knew she should comfort you. No matter how much she wanted to tell you that Amber was terrible, no good, and a bitch, she knew that would do no good. Reassurance was the way to go in these situations with Amber, no matter how much she hated the taste of her own words. “She’ll come around. She always does.” 

“Thanks…” 

A moment of silence passes before Tara gets up from her spot, your eyes tracking her movement. She reaches her hand out for you to grab before saying, “Come on, let’s play Mortal Combat or something. I’m bored and feel like showing off.”

You laughed as you took her hand and stood up. When you stood up, your fingers interlocked with hers, almost like puzzle pieces. She rubbed her thumb over your hand for extra measure. A sense of warmth flew through you and the tension in your shoulders start to release.

"Thank you, Tara."

-----------

A/N: drama, commence

Taglist: @alyciaddict @tropicals-things @orignalpat @lilbitdepressed27 @nahnahnahwhat @fanboy7794

[rene-darling]

ACCIDENTALLY- walking in on them pleasing themselves to you

Adeptus reader in xiao's part, no pronouns are mentioned for the reader so ig it's gn!reader., just wanna let y'all know REQUESTS are OPEN so feel free to choose from The list of fandoms I do (yes I do more than genshin)

Xiao...tighnari...cyno...scaramouche

Xiao

He doesn't know what's gotten into him he was doing his normal patrol of liyue until he heard some strange noises of grunts and moans it seemed like someone was hurt!

As he got closer he saw them doing- things it's not the first time he's accidentally stumbled upon humans partaking in such activities but for some reason, this was stuck in his head he couldn't help it he just- couldn't forget about it...

His mind wandered to maybe you doing those things with him...how would you look?would you...even want to do such a thing with the likes of him, either way, he couldn't control his mind from wandering

This brings him to now as he slowly strokes his hard cock small whines leaving his mouth his mind was clouded with pleasure which is why he made his next mistake

Throwing his head back while arching his back he let out a louder-than-usual scream and accidentally let your name out "A-ah..y/n!"

In a split second, the room was covered in smoke when you appeared "yes xia-" "..." "..." "y-y/n!" xiao was startled as he grabbed the nearest thing to him and attempted to cover himself "..xiao" you were..shocked to say the least catching the ever so stern yaksha jerking it off...and to you?? "thi-this I mean uhm" was it just you or was his pretty cock leaking even more...

Xiao would have teleported outside the room the second you appeared but to his dismay, he was naked.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't mean to s-say" you wear mesmerized by him anything and everything he said went in one ear and out the other you couldn't help yourself staring at his naked body he was so pretty!! "..stop staring...please" xiao was embarrassed but he was increasingly becoming nervous too you were staring at him like some predator who was gonna swallow him whole

You slowly made your way onto the bed while xiao stared intently at you backing up until his back hit the bed frame "hey xiao, that was my name you were yelling right." "..mhm..i-im sorry I-ah!" you gently grabbed his cock which was poorly hidden by some sheets- "so you won't mind if I do this right."

The poor yaksha shivered and sobbed for the rest of the night truly, his darkest fantasies came to life..

Tighnari

He can't help it okay! You just smell so good and it's mating season for the fennec fox!! Every time you hold his hand, come a little closer to his face than usual he swears you're doing this on purpose!

He's been held up in his room for who knows how long with a thick dildo stuck up his ass as he pounds it ruthlessly into his hole

Collei's been getting a little worried about tighnari he's been in his room for so long! She's worried so she asks you to go check on him which you gladly accept

You slowly open the door to his residence it's dark with some light shining it takes a few seconds for you to adjust your eyes "tighnari..?" WHAM something lands on your face as tighnari lets out a loud girly shriek! You stumble around a little until you find the lights turning them on you look around when you're greeted with the sight of a naked tighnari trying desperately to cover up

Your eyes land on the floor where you finally see the object he threw at you...a cum covered green dildo...

For what feels like an eternity you two just stare at each other..."i-ill just take my leave" tighnaris so embarrassed you saw him like that! And instead of being sexy and shaking his ass or something- he-...he threw a fucking fake dick at you!! " archons please kill me"

He ignores you the rest of the week and doesn't interact with you running away every time he sees you with his face all red, of course until his heat gets too unbearable and he begs you to fuck him!! You say yes of course who could say no to him while he's whining and crying like that!

Cyno

Even the great general mahamatra needs to load of stress once in a while tho what he didn't expect is you walking in on him

It's been a long week of catching criminals he's tired. And lately, you just seem to get more and more desirable he can't help but get all sweaty palmed when he sees you!!

He knows he shouldn't do this here- in his office of all places someone might walk in...and someone did

He's clenching a picture of you in a bathing suit you teasingly gave him "in case you need something to think about while jerking off" he didn't think he would actually use it but...

His groans are soft and quiet making sure he doesn't disturb anyone "general maha-...matra" "y/-y/n! I-i um" in his utter shock he drops the photo he had of you and your eyes slowly look down a stunned expression on your face as you stare down at it

"I-" he doesn't want you thinking he's a perv!! "i-im sorry! Please forgive me I don't know what got into me-" he was closing his eyes too afraid of the look you might give him

You were quiet it was almost deafening slowly he opened his eyes and to his shock and horror you were right there in front of him "general I have great respect for you so I won't tell anyone what I've seen today...but in return, you should give me something as an apology- don't you think?" he was so embarrassed he was sure he was as red as a tomato! "mhm- yes I'm sorry anything-"

Cyno let out a huge gasp as you picked him up. And slammed him onto the table

"I think this will be more than enough- make sure to stay quiet now..."

Scaramouche

Scarmouche is a puppet he doesn't have sexual desires! But...there's just something about- you. it makes him crazy, mad deranged even though he can't put his finger on it but he's obsessed

Every time you hold his hand or even sit next to him he gets all hot!! So this is your fault he's in no way responsible for what he's doing if it weren't for you-...he wouldn't have ever discovered such carnal desires!

You're always teasing him about his sheer suit and how he should be careful or "bad men" are gonna rip it open or when sitting and talking to the traveler you rub his thighs up and down occasionally stopping to rub and group them

He pinches his cute puffy pink nipples as humps a pillow he's not even trying to be quiet he can't help it he's in too far deep

"wanderer- are you okay-..." gasping he stared at you all red and flustered "I-i...this- this is your fault!!" "?? What h-how is this my fault?!" "yo-you! You're always teasing me a-and i-i!" poor darling. He Starts to sob! He can't take it you've been teasing him and now you're rejecting it!! "I-its your fault s-so take responsibility a-and...help me" "i-i wait what did you say at the end?"

He can't take it! You're being dense on purpose, aren't you!! "I said help me goddamit" he gasped and let out a whine when you grabbed him by the throat "see that wasn't so hard now was it? You don't have to be such a bitch about it, if you wanna get fucked dumb then just say it nicely."

"p-please.." it was quite a long night after that.

[hanwiore]

Armins friend group knew eachother like the back of their hands. Having to grow up with eachother and sticking with eachother through arguments and dislikes.

The friendship first rule being never to hide anything.

And i mean anything.

But armin has been a good boy, atleast that’s what people thought because why has his friends never knew he was sneaking around with the most popular girl known on twitter and instagram for her big ass and juicy tits?

The one who had mutiple viral videos with whip cream dripping down her dark brown areola, as her over dramatic nails gripped them and bounced them with her pretty smile showing over her pink tongue as she sticks it out in the camera?

Why have they never knew?

Well that’s because sneaky, little armin wanted to keep her to himself!

He gets fucked to good, gets turnt on to easily to have anyone look at her. But that was before today.

Before he gave you consent to post a video with armin.

A video on your popular twitter. Free and willingly.

Armin sat on your satin blue bed comforter, back against your chest and legs spread wide against yours. Your phone recording on your nightstand, perfect lighting from two ring lights so they can see everything.

So they can see his flushing cheeks and ears that even followed down to his neck, they can see his hardened nipples that squeezed between nipple clamps. And oh his dick….maybe not that big in length but so thick and so pink!

He was adorable that’s why you had to get your greedy dirty hands on such a sweet boy.

Your hello kitty nail set, extra long and slightly curved complimenting his dick as one stroked it and the other holding your vibrator that settled on his balls that was now soaking wet from your orgasm before and his messy pre-cum that ran down. “M-mommy!” He gasped and shook.

From the beginning you trained armin, him being a virgin and you being a slutty thing. Training him how to cum on demand was what he was really interested in so you made sure that to be his first content with you.

“Yes baby?” Glossed lips says closely to his ears. His eyes rolled back and thighs twitched and shook, “feels so good mommy, i-i oh.” You looked over his shoulder and into his eyes that now opened and was staring right at the camera. You saw a smirk slightly form on his face.

You squeezed his dick and pressed the vibrator harder onto his full balls, “oh? whats funny?” You hummed as he moaned loudly, fingers gripping on your thigh and moving all over you. “T-that, nghh, how no one else can do thi-this fuck! Do this but m-me.” Armin finally stutters out, you make him hold the vibrator now against his frenulum, his whines grew more louder and shaky.

Your now free hand grips his neck to turn him slightly so you can kiss his cheek, “that’s right baby, no one else but you, cause i’m yours right?” That made armin legs pull up and tried to clench them to hide his dick but your stroking turnt ruthless, gripping him just like your cunt would. “Ohh yes! yes yes yes. Can i cum hm? Wanna cum so bad for you mommy- s-shit.” He was a babbling mess.

“Not yet. Cause your also what armin?” You asked, nonchalantly is what armin would say but your pussy was soaked, you can feel it.

His fingers gripped on your thighs tighter, head thrown back on your shoulder, “i’m yours hnnn yours !” He bit his redden lips, tightening his stomach so he won’t cum and disobey because he’s a good boy. Just like you trained him to be.

“Exactly so you listen to what mommy says, but your a good boy aren’t you my sweet armin?” His pre cum sliding down your fingers and it gets so wet and messy you hear squelching sounds in the back other then his whimpers and cries. “Y-yess mommy.” He moves the vibrator over his tip, lips chapped and mouth opening, spit train connected both his bottom and top lip as no sound comes out, slight “hnns.” And “nghhs.”

You smiling at the camera and wink then you turn to armin to kiss his neck, your hand moving from his neck to his sensitive nipple and you squeeze, “you can cum baby.”

He almost goes forward if it wasn’t for you arm around his chest, “imcummingimcummingmommy! Im fuckin- cumming oh mommy!” His thighs shook and he actually cries. Tears forming and slipping “nghhh oh…” big spurts of cum moving over his chest and his thighs.

“Wait till your friends see this.”

[midnightwriter21]

heyy :) can i request small scenarios of s/o asking the kny hashira what hairstyle do they like the best on them?? (like braid, ponytail, bun, hair down etc etc) some fluff!!

demon slayer hcs: which hairstyles do the hashira prefer

characters: obanai, rengoku, sanemi, muichiro, mitsuri, tengen, shinobu, giyuu

warnings: i say meanie words

an: giyuu’s kinda sucked lol i’m sorry. i don’t write for gyomei

OBANAI

i think obanai would prefer his partner to have a practical hairstyle

that way it doesn’t become an obstacle or even a danger if they come into contact with a demon

therefore he’d probably like his partner to wear their hair tied up in some way

whether it’s braided like mitsuri

or in a simple ponytail

as long as it’s outta the way and won’t become a safety hazard

bc with snake boy

your safety is his top priority

also!!

obanai is canonically down bad for his bae

so he’d also like his partners hair tied up so that it doesn’t obscure their face from his view

he likes to admire you

wants to see every inch of every expression that crosses your face

RENGOKU

i’ve said this before in other hcs but imma restate it here

kyo is the ultimate service bf

will do EVERYTHING for you

including doing your hair

that being said

i feel like he’d do your hair exactly the same way he does his

the lil half up half down thing he got goin on?

it’s the only hair style he knows how to do lmfao

but!!

if you don’t prefer that hairstyle he would absolutely learn how to do other ones

would prob ask mitsuri to teach him how to do hair

he just wants you to be happy with the way you look

SANEMI

BOYFRIENNDDDDDDD

he’s so gorgeous it makes me sick

my man’s likes long hair

now do NOT get it twisted!!

if you’re on a mission?

that hair better be tied tf up

ponytail, braids, bun, pigtails

he don’t care

but put it up

like obanai, your safety comes first

sanemi will tie your hair up himself if need be

it might get tangled… but it’ll be up

if you’re just chilling at the butterfly mansion or at his estate though…

he likes it down

he likes the way it flows down your back and frames your face

and when he’s feeling soft he likes to run his fingers through it

he thinks it makes you look more innocent and carefree

MUICHIRO

he does not gaf

at all lmfaoooooo

okay that’s a lie

kinda

i feel like he doesn’t really care about the length of your hair

or the exact style you wear it in

but i do think he likes face framing bangs

not for any real reason

just that it accentuates your facial features

it draws more attention to just how cute you are

MITSURI

oh you already know that y’all are about to be TWINNINGGGG

mitsuri is braiding your hair herself😤

i just know she’s so gentle with it too

she’s brushing your hair and detangling any stubborn knots

you don’t even feel the slightest tug on your scalp

did y’all’s moms ever pull tf outta your hair while they were doing ur hair when u were little?

i learned to do my own hair rly young cause she was so rough… just me? oh okay

ANYWAYS

yk when you used to plan to wear the same outfits as your friends when you were younger?

the whole “let’s both wear a skirt tomorrow” type thing?

that’s mitsuri but with your hair

and it’s every single day

queen

TENGEN

he does not have to be THAT fine bro tell the animators to calm down

ik they be animating him with one hand if ykwim lmfaoo

*ahem* anyways

another one that does not gaf what you do with your hair

as long as it’s ✨flashy✨

and by flashy i mean he wants it to be something that makes you feel and look confident

cause confidence is sexy af

period

now he does want you to keep up your hair maintenance

and by hair maintenance

i mean make sure that hair dye stays fresh

those split ends? trimmed

and keep that shit washed and clean too

other than hair maintenance i don’t think he’s that picky

every once in a while he might suggest a hairstyle he thinks would suit you

but ultimately it’s your decision

also i think he’s really good at doing hair

i mean the man has 3 wives already

if you think he’s not helping them style theirs… your wrong

SHINOBU

mommy? sorry… mommy?

i think she’d prefer your hair to be tied up in a bun

she likes to see your face

study your expressions

she likes being able to read you

things you like, dislike, and how you react to certain things

not only does she think you’re adorable

but she thinks your facial expressions are entertaining as well

she’s gonna help you do your hair

and she’s def the best at doing hair compared to the other hashira

she’s gonna have you looking good asf

not a hair out of place

GIYUU

water boy likes short hair

not super short

like below the chin but just barely above the shoulders

idk why i just feel it in my bones

also the cute wispy bangs covering your forehead

yeah

i can’t come up with a reason for this i just think it fits lmfao sorry

[chronically-ghosted]

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link 

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty. 

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension. 

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees. 

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said – 

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen. 

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him. 

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part. 

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all. 

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine. 

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?” 

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin. 

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.” 

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed. 

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.” 

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?” 

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has. 

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.” 

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.” 

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat. 

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod. 

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places. 

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway. 

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him –  running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night. 

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense. 

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips. 

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win. 

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest. 

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet. 

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest. 

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates. 

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper. 

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you. 

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough. 

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.” 

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this. 

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass. 

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command. 

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you. 

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall. 

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing. 

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need. 

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks. 

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him. 

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?” 

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh. 

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.” 

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!” 

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles. 

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life. 

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.” 

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor. 

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more. 

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.” 

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing. 

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all. 

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in. 

If you just –

“Come for me.” 

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot. 

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck. 

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again. 

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down. 

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely. 

But that is something he is not capable of right now. 

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse. 

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them. 

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days. 

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open. 

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off. 

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over. 

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest. 

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.” 

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission. 

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands. 

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again. 

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you. 

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to. 

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you. 

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.” 

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end. 

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him. 

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips. 

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick. 

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you. 

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,” 

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.” 

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips. 

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb. 

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls. 

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning. 

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs. 

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth. 

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?” 

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.” 

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.” 

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s. 

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted. 

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open. 

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week. 

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you. 

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release. 

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.” 

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking. 

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted. 

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his. 

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken. 

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels. 

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake. 

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away. 

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek. 

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change. 

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs. 

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles. 

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock. 

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.” 

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you. 

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession. 

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?” 

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck. 

“Not at all.” 

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while. 

Noonan is annoyed. 

Murphy is not. 

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.” 

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.” 

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.” 

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader using the power of seduction to get her way? She wants pick the show they watch tonight but Sevika fights her on it? Sloppy head.

She wants to get Sevika out the house to come run errands with her on a busy Sunday morning? Sloppy Top.

She wants Sevika to do the dishes? Reader is shoving her hands down her wife’s pants.

😌🤗🙏🏽

i love this so muchhh

men and minors dni

sevika's whipped for you. she's past the point of even trying to deny it. she's not really sure what happened to her, or when her womanizing ways were traded in for a singular obsession with you-- but it's where she finds herself now.

she wouldn't trade it for the world.

that doesn't mean it's not a little embarassing for sevika how quickly she folds for you.

like a week ago. she'd had plans she'd been looking forward to all fucking week to go on a bar crawl with a few of the crew members. and then she'd gotten home, and you'd pouted when she told you her plans.

"sorry baby, the boys are already waiting for me at the last drop." she grunted as you wrapped your arms around her.

"do you have to go?" you whined, kissing against her neck. "i've got a bubble bath drawn up. you could join me, spend the night in, split a nice bottle of wine..." you trailed off, sucking a hickey into her neck.

she didn't smack your hands away when they began unbuttoning her top. and she wasn't surprised in the slightest to find herself texting the groupchat that she couldn't make it. after all, you're way more fun than her friends.

that wasn't the most embarrassing time you've seduced her into your plans, though. not even close.

just three days ago, she'd been heading out to go to the gym.

"bye babe!" she called over her shoulder.

you stuck your head out of the bathroom. "where're you goin'?" you asked, a little whine in your voice. she froze, her hand hovering above the handle.

"the gym, why?"

you pouted. "oh, damn."

"what?"

"no, don't worry, go have fun." you promied her, waving it off.

sevika wasn't satisfied, though. "what?" she asked again. you just shrugged.

"wanted to watch that movie with you." you pouted. "thought we could have a movie night tonight since it's raining."

sevika tried to stay strong, she really did, but then you walked out of the bathroom wearing the shortest pajama shorts you own.

they shouldn't even count as shorts-- they're more like panties.

her grip on the handle tightened so hard she was certain she crushed it-- and all the thoughts of her work-out flew out of her mind. she gulped.

"'s long as you let me fuck you when i get bored." she mumbled as she started walking toward the couch. you just giggled and sat down on her lap, kissing her cheek.

"'s long as you face me toward the tv." you shrugged.

and now, sevika's sure she's reached a new low.

you've got her in the crawlspace under your porch, a flashlight in one hand and a shoe box in the other. why? because you 'think you heard a crying animal.'

sevika wanted you to leave it and let it die. "i'll scoop it out if it starts stinking, but we should just let nature do it's thing, babe."

"sevika!" you gasped. "that's horrible!"

she wasn't going to budge. not a bit. not when you pouted, not when you started throwing crumbs through the slats of your porch to feed the pathetic little creature, not even when you tried crawling under yourself.

but then, you'd cornered her inside your house, your tits on full display in one of your lowest cut tops. sevika knew she'd be under the porch before you could even start talking.

"sevika?" you asked sweetly, blinking your eyelashes up at her. she gulped, tried to pry her eyes away from your cleavage. "baby, please can you go under and see what's going on? i promise, once we get it out, whatever it is, we'll give it some food and water and put it in a bush back where it belongs. i just think it's stuck on something, and it's crying so much i can't ignore the poor thi--"

"you're fucking evil, you know." she cut you off. you had to bite back a smirk.

"what do you mean?" you asked

"you think i don't know you're trying to trick me right now babe?" she asked, pointing at your tits. "you think i didn't notice your sudden wardrobe change?"

you pouted. "so is that a no?"

"fuck! i'll fuckin' save the fuckin' animal, for fuck's sake, are you happy?" she asked, stroming to the utility closet to get her supplies.

you just giggled and followed after her, kissing her cheek. "and once you're done, you're gonna ride my face as a reward." you whispered against her cheek.

and now she's covered in mud, rescuing a fucking mouse from where it's been trapped in a sewer pipe. you're watching from the opening, holding a flashlight over her shoulder to help her light the way.

"you did it!" you squeal, jumping up and down. sevika grunts, turning on her belly to start crawling out. she's not gentle with the shoebox as she shoves it out from under the porch, but the fucking rat will be fine. you help her stand when she reaches the opening, and then pull her down for a long, slobbery kiss. all of her complaints and anger melts the second you do. "thank you, baby. really." you whipser.

sevika huffs. "i'm gonna go shower. you're gonna give the fuckin' rat a grape and set it free. then, i'm gettin' my reward." she smacks your ass, then turns to run in the house.

you giggle and call after her. "sounds good babe, i'll meet you in the bedroom. you want me to keep the slutty shirt on or...?"

sevika freezes on the porch, considers her options, then turns around to look at your tits in the nearly-transparent white shirt, and all the mud on her body is worth it for that view. she grins. "keep it on."

you giggle, nod, and blow her a kiss.

yeah, she thinks as she stumbles inside, stripping her muddy clothes off. she doesn't mind being whipped for you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents

[derangedanomaly]

Part 1: Their s/o is a skeleton pt.1 (Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror) - For context

Their s/o is a skeleton PT.2

(Error, Dream, Ink, Swap)

Error:

Oh, he absolutely knows that you're a skeleton because you're dead.

How? He read your file. (Sneaky mf)

He might've been a little interested in you at that time. (Takes this to his grave)

He's the one that's, next to Dust, the MOST prepared! You want bandaids? He has a whole stock of them. You need snack's? Sure, what do you want?

He's like your little hero most of the time, it's actually really cute ❤️

Always ready to step in if you happen to be in danger.

He became a little sap because of you, no one really knows why, or where it come from.

Error speaking to Ink; "I hate you, and I wish I would've never met you! So tell me, why should I help you?!" ".... We've got Y/n-" "I'm in."

Uses his strings to secure you when on missions, since he has Haphephobia.

Really sweet towards you, but an ass to everybody else 💀

"Y/n! I need you to-" Killer spoke, but got cut off by Error. "I'll do it." There's a silence following after that. "Huh? Wha-Why? It's quite...hmm... dangerous." Error scoffed at Killer's dumbness. "Yeah. Exactly I want to do it for Y/n." You awed a little, grateful for Error's kind words.

After they ended their own conversations, you went up to Error, smiling at him. "Error..thank you for doing that!" Error smiled and used his strings to sort of...hug you? "It's no problem. I'd do anything for you..." You blinked and looked at him, confused. "Huh? I'm sorry- what did you say," Error blushed deep yellow and stammered. "A- Uh.. it's nothing! Really..." After awhile of you both staring into each others eyes, Error snapped out of it blushing profusely.

"I GOTTA GO! THE ANTIVOID'S ON FIRE!!!" You laughed as he teleported away. What a liar..heh.

Dream:

Oh my god! You're dead?! Is his immediate reaction. After that follows a quick stammer of these words: "Are you ok?! I mean- you're dead, of course you're not ok! BUT DOES IT STILL HURT?! OH MY GOD!!!!"

He's like a worried mother. 💀

Becomes even more worried when he finds out you're bones are easily breakable.

Someone, please calm him down!

Don't get him wrong, he is usually composed and calm, but he literally went crazy after you told him this mind-blowing fact to him.

I mean, he loves you, very dearly. But he just found out that his crush is actually dead, and is very fragile.

After getting used to this, Dream treats you as if you were made out of porcelain.

He's being so very careful for you. You could be doing anything. Even the simplest of things, and he'd be watching you like a hawk, checking if you'll be ok.

He stopped doing that after you told him it's making you uncomfortable, but decided to instead hold your hand, or lay his hand on your back. (Depending on what you're doing.)

Doesn't bring you on fights on many occasions. (Doesn't like seeing you hurt.)

But if you do end up in a fight, he makes sure to always put you first. No one else matters except you when it comes to fights. Not even himself. He'd rather sacrifice himself then watched you die. 😭

You were watching a movie, when you felt it..the intense gaze....

Like a hawk ready to strike. You silently gulped, turning around. You were met with Dream's gaze. "Uhm...hi Dream..? Something's the matter?" Dream shook his head, his gaze never leaving you. You groaned. You thought he was over this! You turned to him. "Dream! I thought that I told you, that you don't need to watch over me in these situa-" "You're pretty." Everything fell silent, as you let his words sink in. You blinked a few times, red blush starting to appear on your face.

"Huh?" "You're very pretty tonight, Y/n." Is that why he was staring?? You didn't had any words, shock overcoming you. "Um..thank you??" He flashed you a gentle smile, then went up the stairs. What a weird night.

Ink:

Oh, so you weren't born a skeleton? Cool cool. But can you watch thi-

He doesn't care. And it's not because he's an asshole, it's because he doesn't find it really mind-blowing.

He doesn't change his view about you just cause you're dead! Hah!

He's that kind of a friend that would laugh if you'd done something to yourself. Like broke a bone on accident or something. Trust me, he WILL laugh his ass off.

He might be doing all these things, but he did find himself chasing after you. He didn't know that though. (Remember. He doesn't really have emotions..)

He probably never felt these emotions before, so he doesn't know that he loves you, until one specific moment.

The moment where you confess to him. He should feel happy in this moment! But he just feels- sorry. For you. He thinks he doesn't deserve your love, simply because his emotions are fake.

So he studies these emotions further!

He suddenly becomes an expert at love. 🤠

Keeps telling you cringe things, thinking that'd woe you... "I wanna be your sigma baby!" You just look at him in disgust. "Don't... don't do that..."

Ink loves to capture small moments on camera, so he has a ton of pictures with you two! He has them all printed out, sticked on his wall.

Every time he looks at them, he thinks of you. And that just makes him feel...alive.

You were walking down the stairs when you suddenly tripped. You groaned, about to stand up, until you heard a loud crack. Oh no.... your leg bone just broke! Great.. "OH MY GOD! I can't believe you just plummeted a whole flight of stairs!" You groaned even more when you heard the voice of that rat...Ink.

"Ink...can you help me instead of laughing at me?" "No." Was his immediate response before laughing his ass off furthermore. "You're such an ass..." Ink chuckled, suddenly holding you up bridal style. "Yeah, but I'm your ass." You couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Yeah.."

Swap:

Is kinda...chill? It's actually really weird. You would think he'd freak out the most.

It was actually just cause Error told him beforehand. (Swap bribed him 💀

He was surprised, but didn't change the way he treated you.

The only thing he did is just...admire you from afar.

You kinda became his role model. He just admires you so much! He thinks it's incredible how you can still push forward even in your conditions.

Has kitty bandaids in his pockets prepared just for you :)

Just a lil cutie, always making sure you're ok.

Always encouraging you in everything you do! He's your little cheerleader.

Tried to calm Dream down when he found out. "It's ok Dream! They're ok! Stop overreacting!"

He might be the good guy. But if he finds out...that someone hurt you... he'll personally eliminate them. And he's not really hiding it either. He's actually thriving in it. (Which makes you kinda nervous.)

"S-Swap?" You called out his name. You needed his assistance. Nightmare severely hurt you. Broke a few bones... Swap immediately went to your side.

"Y/n! Are you ok?! What happened?" You frowned and explained him the situation. "Nightmare happened. That's what.." you slowly went to sit down, watching Swap curiously. "...Swap?" You suddenly saw a flick of anger across his face. "I'M GONNA TEAR HIM TO SHREDS THAT EVEN DREAM WON'T RECOGNIZE HIM!!" You jumped, being shocked. You never saw Swap act like this.

He was about to rush out the door, until you stopped him, holding his sleeve. "Swap, no! It's ok...just...help me patch up? Please.." Swap looked at you sadly, until nodding his head going over to the medkit. "I'm sorry...Y/n. I don't know what came over me..." You nodded, wincing from your injuries. "... I'm still going to annihilate him.." you looked at him with confusion. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" "Nothing. Just that I love..." He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. "Tacos. I love Tacos." Swap blurted out avoiding your eye contact.

..

.

"And also you..."

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

okay, monster!au characters reaction to Yuu(s) having hiccups. Like the high pitch squeaky toy type of hiccup. I feel like it would be seen as cute to concerning by everyone depending on how long they last.

Hiccups can be extremely annoying to the one experiencing them (and sometimes be painful), but highly entertaining to observers! 😆 I remember at one point that my nephew had a little trick to get someone to stop having the hiccups by asking them a completely random question, like, “What did you say about [insert random thing]?” and the sheer confusion and attempt to clarify what was going on would end up stopping the hiccups!

The trick kinda loses its effectiveness when you use the same phrase over and over again though, so shaking it up a little might work!

Anyway, it’s not uncommon for animals to get the hiccups either, though the pitch and duration will vary. As such, most monster species experiencing them tend to be less vocal than us humans. Now imagine that Yuu gets these high-pitched hiccups in the middle of class one day. >v>

/--------------/

Yuu: *stirring their cauldron in potionology* “How’re the ingredients coming along, Grim?”

Grim: “Mrrrgh…this is too tedious. Why can’t I stir and you prepare the ingredients?”

Yuu: “Because the last time we tried that, you slipped on the book pile and fell in. We had to start all over again!”

Grim: “Okay, okay, sheesh! What do we need first?”

Yuu: “First, we need…three grams of wild chicory.” *takes dish and pours contents into the cauldron* “Next, we need a—[hic!]”

Grim: “Need a what?”

Yuu: “We need a—[hic!]”

Grim: “Eh?”

Yuu: *getting frustrated* “Pass me the—[hic!]—the—[hic!]—oh for the love of—[HIC!!]—ow!”

Grim: “Fygah?!”

Deuce: “What was that?? Are you okay?!”

Yuu: “What? You mean the hi—[hic!]—ccups?”

Ace: “That’s what human hiccups sound like?”

Crewel: *stalks over* “Why are you pups yapping instead of working?”

Grim: “Yuu has the hiccups!”

Crewel: “Hiccups?”

Deuce: “They sound so…squeaky.”

Yuu: “[HIC!!!] Ow!”

Crewel: *looking concerned* “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

Yuu: “I’m fine, really! They’ll—[hic!]—go away eventual—[hic!]—ly.”

///Two hours later in Magical History///

Yuu: “Ugh…I hate thi—[hic!]—is!”

Ace: “Dude, how long are hiccups supposed to last for humans?”

Yuu: “It var—[hic!]—ies. Ow…”

Ace: *ears twitch* “Are…you okay? That sounded like it hurt.”

Yuu: “Yeah, like I said, it hap—[hic!]—pens. Never had them last thi—[hic!]—is long tho—[hic!]—ugh.”

*Trein continues teaching the class, Yuu’s hiccups getting progressively more frequent as they try to stifle it. They try everything they can, from holding their breath to taking slow sips of water, but they end up getting more and more embarrassed as students stare at them and Trein gives them a concerned and annoyed look at the same time*

Yuu: “Can this g—[hic!]—et any—[hic!]—worse…?”

Crowley: *drops in out of nowhere* “Pop quiz!”

All except Trein: “Gah!?”

Yuu: “………”

Deuce: “…Yuu, your hiccups are gone!”

Yuu: “They are?” *pauses* “They are! Thank you, headmaster!”

Crowley: “Hm? Oh, well, you’re welcome, Yuu!”

Trein: “You have no idea why they’re even thanking you, do you?”

Crowley: “The fact that a student thanked me in the first place is more than enough to know I’m doing my job right, Mozus.”

///Later///

Ace: “Wait, so you mean that humans scare each other to get rid of hiccups?”

Yuu: “Yeah, that’s why when the headmaster jumped in like he did, I got surprised and the hiccups went away.”

Deuce: “How does that even work?”

Yuu: “I……don’t really know. But it can be effective, if a little bad for the heart at tim-”

???: “Screeeeeeaaaah-!!”

Yuu: *looks up as a large shadow charges at them* “AAAAAAAA-!!!”

WHUMP!!

Ace: “Gyah! Floyd? What the heck, what’d you do that for?!”

Floyd: *holding Yuu in his arms* “Hahaha! Why not? Lil’ Shrimpy has the funniest reactions when Seagull does the same thing.”

Yuu: *looking panicked and horrified* “[Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic! Hic!!]”

Floyd: “Eh? Why’s Shrimpy making that sound?”

Ace: “Ugh…and we just got the hiccups to stop.”

Grim: “Wait, I thought scaring humans got rid of them, but scaring them can cause them too??”

Yuu: “Just—[hic!]—get me—[hic!]—some wat—[hic!]—er!”

///------///

And there we have it! The good news is that Yuu will definitely have plenty of help getting rid of the next round of hiccups. The bad news is that it may not be so good for their heart with how terrifying some of the monster boys can be. 🤣

By the way, the last part was inspired by the last strip of a Calvin and Hobbes comic where Calvin had the hiccups, and was trying all sorts of tricks to get rid of them. Believe me, it was a tossup between Floyd and Rook in terms of who was going to pull that stunt at the end!

[justcallmesakira]

Bsd men with a childish s/o part 2!

Sypnosis: Bsd men with a very silly and goofy s/o with ranpo, akutagawa and nikolai! Genre: Lowkey fluff, crack

Warnings: poisoning with peanuts, sliding down a metal Rollercoaster railing, implied doxxing a Mexican kid, blasting, teeth 😇

A/N: Okay so my last post got loads of likes so I decided to do a part 2 because why not? I don't think I will do part 3 but you can request if you want..?

Ranpo-

Wow... look two autistic lovers challenging each other who can eat the most sweets without getting cavity!

You one time tried stealing his candies,, so he kept you in those childrens tents filled with colorful balls😧😧😧 yk those silly cages made for children so they think they are meant to have fun?

Nahh fukuzawa gunna call the CPS

If you think he will be all sweet with you.... No shit bro your in for a ride, AND I MEAN A LITTERAL RIDE-

"uhh ranpo I don't think we should use a Rollercoaster as a slide" "shut up you kid! Sliding not a crime xD"

Two grown up adults found sliding down a roller coasters rail

BRO let the news reporter have a break 😭

He's kinda like dazai but a bit more childish with you (awh how cute...)

One time he tried to play with a kid on the sandbox but he refused so you came and gaslighted the kid to eat a peanut butter lollipop 🍭🥜

Turns out the kid had allergy to nuts

Kid: AUGHHH AGUH AGHGh AEEEEUGHH you: :3 Ranpo: god must be happy

FAMILY GUY Reference??? YES

And so two totally romantic lovers go on a journey to poison little kids!

Hohoho if aomeone bullies you he's gonna go "Hello (first name) (middle name) (last name) who lives in (full address) and was born in (birth hospital)" on that Mexican kid who tried to bully you

That's hot😋😳🤭

One time you lost your left glove in the winter so he took your left hand and slid it in his gloved hand

YES THAT'S POSSIBLE I DID THAT TO MY hopeless romantic ass Self!!!!

Akutagawa-

....

How did you get him to date you bro 😀

He does not even understand what wrong with you so he always has be the one saving your ass during a mission just in cas3

OH it's not for your protection.... It's him protecting the building so you don't blow it up

😁😁😁

You know how he goes ◉ - ◉ sometimes? That's exactly how he questions your silly antics

"I can't wait for the tooth fairy to come for the teeth under my bed!" "◉-◉" higuchi: you are too old for fallen tooth what are you sa-- Y/N WHO'S TOOTH IS THA--"

He only glared at higuchi telling her to not question it with you behind him ":3"

Sometimes you play with his rashoumon by putting make up on it

Idkdontaskmehowyoudidthat-

"sir we bombed up the plac-" "good" 💁‍♀️💄👹---🧑

GUYS THE DEMON IS THE RASOUMON AND DON'T QUESTION IT

If anything akutagawa is questioning why he has to keep you in a children's daycare

BRO give him a break-

When dazai met you and you two had matching energy he was just staring at you two with respect... He felt a bit felt out though

HUG HIM RIGHT NOW👿

Other then that he tries to understand you and protect you from danger because of your goof :)

Nikolai-

This is gonna get messy.... 😨

Honestly you have matching energy butttttt- BONUS POINTS IF YOU ARE A TERRORIST WHO Goes >:3 WHILE BLOWING UP A BUILDING-

Fyodor is questioning his life choices because you two acCidENtaLly burned his kitchen

"Damn.... It's 7 am..." Fyodor said calmly as he saw his only house burn down

Your gonna become his pretty assistant in his circus or sth🤡

Anyways you know those bumper cars? You two ride those and bump each other with it causing a friction and blasting the whole place

He will let you lay on his thi- I mean lap if you are too tired but don't be surprised to wake up with pigtails and heavy makeup :>

NIKO I love you but if you do that... Things are gonna get way messier😊😊😊

If

If you want anything he Wil just open up his portal and bring

"oioioioi koala (the name you gave him because of kolya) I want to drink shrimp and lollipop soda" *opens up portal and takes out a golden can* "here you go! :3" "Oh tank yew :3"

Totally sane and normal!!

Yes you call him koala instead of kolya but he always goes 😳🤭

I would too bbg wann-

Overall I think it's sort of good to be cheerful I mean at least you get too get away with his pranks (slightly)

Just make sure he doesnt sigma 3 breakdown hair you

A/N: I know this wasn't good but I am not in the mood to write yk--so sorry it's not funny or anything anyways I am not sure whether I WI will write part 3 or not

Tag: @silverbladexyz

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated!

[xzaddyzanakinx]

I Crybaby I part two

Mean Punk/Grunge Anakin × Naive Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: demeaning comments, crude behavior, aggression toward reader, hurt/comfort, reader is taken advantage of, Anakin is briefly a creep

Info: Anakin is an ass, like no joke he's really mean. Pierced and tatted Ani, he plays the drums, annoying rude neighbor, modern AU (90's), he might be mean now but I promise he will get better (probably)

NOT PROOFREAD

As the day went on you got yourself ready. A friend from one of your college classes was due to pick you up anytime now. The guy was nice enough to invite you out to go bowling with a group of his friends, knowing you were new and that you didn’t have a solid friend group yet. You were appreciative of the gesture, despite your bubbly personality you found it difficult to keep a steady friendship, it seemed that people took advantage of your naivety, your kindness.

Jacob had promised that his friends were just as great as he was, it was the week after classes had ended for the summer and they had collectively decided it was an atrocity that a girl like you had went the school year without a proper night out with friends.

Wearing a tight red crop top and a cherry patterned short skirt and a pair of white sandals you stepped out side, checking on your hair and makeup one more time in the porch window before sitting on the swing to wait for him to pull up.

Anakin had been watching you from behind his bedroom curtains as you primped and prepared to go out. A mix of annoyance and fascination flickered within him as he observed your movements. He couldn't help but notice the tight red crop top that accentuated your figure and the short cherry-patterned skirt that revealed your toned legs.

Feeling a sudden pang of jealousy, Anakin scoffed to himself as he grabbed his pack of Marlboros and his lighter from the nightstand. He stepped out onto his porch, determined to distract you from whatever event you planned on attending.

Anakin couldn't help but admire how good you looked, despite his attempts to downplay it.

"You're really going all out, aren't you?" he called out, purposely using a sarcastic tone as he walked over, the sound of his combat boots hitting the concrete echoing through the air.

He lit up a cigarette, taking a deliberate drag and letting the smoke linger in the air between you. Smirking at the disgust on your face when the smoke curled around your head, he snickered as he watched you fan it away with your delicate little hands.

Despite his snarky facade, he couldn't help but feel a streak of possessiveness at the thought of you going out with someone other than him.

"What do you mean?" You asked, standing as you saw Jacob's station wagon rounding the corner.

Anakin smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the porch railing, the smoke escaping his lips in a lazy wisp. The sight of Jacob's car approaching only fueled his determination to stir up some trouble.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, princess," he replied, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and annoyance. "Just think you're putting in a lot of effort for some random."

As Jacob's car pulled up, Anakin pushed himself off the railing, making his way over to your driveway with an intentional swagger. He looked Jacob up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, silently sizing him up as if daring him to make a move.

"So, this is the lucky guy, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Better keep a close eye on him, he looks like one of those sleazy types."

Anakin's words were meant to ruffle Jacob's feathers, and to his disappointment, the other boy seemed to be unaffected. He simply stepped aside and leaned against his car, a grin spreading as he watched you leap down the steps.

"Jay-Jay!" You shouted excitedly as he opened the passenger door for you.

Anakin laughed loudly, doubling over before leaning back on his heels, the toes of his shoes leaving the ground. “Jay-Jay?” He mocked.

"Who's this?" Jacob gestured to Anakin, very obviously judging his appearance and behavior.

"He's my neighbor, lives right there." You pointed.

Anakin raised a pierced eyebrow at Jacob's judgmental gaze, his playful smirk never leaving his face. He leaned against the car, deliberately invading Jacob's personal space as he spoke with a self-assured tone.

“Just thought I’d make sure she’s in good hands you know? Gotta watch out for my baby girl.” Anakin replied, leaning into the still open car door to give you a condescending pat on the cheek.

His use of the pet name was deliberate, a subtle reminder that he had taken a liking to you, even if he wasn't ready to admit it. Anakin shot you a mischievous grin as you settled into the car, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned back to Jacob.

You watched the exchange between the two boys. Jacob instantly bristled at the use of Anakin's pet name. He stood up a bit straighter to attempt to tower over Anakin with no luck, since Anakin was obviously much taller, even without the clunky boots he wore. You could tell Anakin liked getting a rise out Jacob, seeing as how his cheeks got red and his fists clenched.

"Take care of her, champ," he said, his tone containing a mix of jealousy and true concern for your safety.

“Can’t believe he said that while I’m standing right there!” Jacob fumed under his breath as he walked around the car to the drivers door. “Little shithead.”

Anakin couldn't help but overhear Jacob's remark as he made his exit. He chuckled to himself, basking in the knowledge that he had effectively managed to get under his skin.

He muttered, his tone tinged with amusement. "Guess I struck a nerve."

With one final wink in your direction, Anakin pushed away from the car and retreated back to his own porch. Leaning back on the porch swing, Anakin took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a protective shield. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the flicker of concern that wormed its way into his thoughts.

He watched as Jacob's car disappeared from view, the distant engine noise fading into the quiet evening. The reality of his own possessiveness began to sink in, causing a mix of conflicting emotions to surge within him. Anakin found himself questioning his motives, the strange connection he felt with you.

With a sigh, he stubbed out his cigarette and stood up from the porch swing.

You were worried that Anakin's behavior would dampen the mood, but it didn't, Jacob quickly recovered to his usual chipper self.

Walking alongside you happily as you entered the bowling alley to meet his friends. Thankfully there were other girls there that immediately took a liking to you, they made you feel like part of the group right away.

As the night went on you formed the opinion that yes, Jacob had some cool friends, and you wouldn’t mind getting to spend more time with them. The girls and you had ordered a few drinks at the bar next door between games and by the time Jacob was ushering you into the car to take you home with a gentle hand on your back, you were more than a bit tipsy.

Soon enough he pulled into the driveway, jogging around the front end of the vehicle to help you out. He chuckled when he saw you had taken off your shoes and were holding them awkwardly in your hands. Your bare feet smacked the pavement and you couldn’t help but giggle.

"Thanks, Jay," you slurred, flashing him a crooked grin. His hand on your waist steadied your loose movements.

"C'mon let's get you inside." He laughed.

As you fumbled with your keys at the front door, Jacob leaned in close, his voice laced with mild concern.

"Careful now, don't want you busting up that pretty face," he teased, gently guiding the key into the lock for you.

The door of Anakin’s home swung open, time for his late night smoke and not at all meant to be a front for spying on you and the stupid guy with an arm around your waist.

"Buh-bye Jay," you slurred, hugging Jacob sleepily.

The boy towered over you, dwarfing you with his larger size. You seemed to small and fragile next to him and it worried Anakin. He leaned in with the intent to kiss you, and of course you remained blissfully unaware of the escalating tension hanging in the air.

Anakin couldn't stand by and watch as another man tried to claim what he saw as his. With a flick of his cigarette, he crushed the butt beneath his boot and rose to his feet. A mix of anger and protectiveness coursed through him as he approached the porch, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Alright, that's enough," Anakin growled, stepping between the two of you. His voice dripped with a toxic combination of aggression and protection.

Jacob stepped back, his expression caught between surprise and annoyance.

“What's your problem, man?" he snapped, clearly taken aback by Anakin's sudden appearance.

Anakin leaned in closer, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can just swoop in and take advantage of a clearly intoxicated girl, huh? You're delusional if you think I’m letting you walk in there with her."

His words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence engulfing the three of you. Anakin's gaze remained fixed on Jacob, his icy stare daring him to make a move.

Jacob, realizing the situation was escalating, backed off slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Look, man, I didn't mean any harm. I just…. I thought she was into it. My bad." He stuttered.

Anakin's lips twisted into a smile, though it was laced with bitterness.

"Your bad, huh?" he sneered. "Stay the hell away from her. She's off-limits."

Without another word, Jacob turned on his heel, swiftly retreating to his car. The confrontation left a sour taste in the air that dissipated swiftly after Jacob’s car squealed out of your driveway.

Anakin's gaze softened, though his anger still smoldered beneath the surface. He turned his attention to you, remaining silent for a beat before stepping closer, his touch gentle on your exposed shoulder.

"You alright, princess?" he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the venom he had displayed moments ago. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself searching his face to confirm he was being genuine.

At the realization that he was indeed being serious tears filled your eyes and You pushed the heels of your palms into them to attempt to fight them off, but it was no use. Your mascara was running, no doubt your lipgloss was smeared across your cheek, you were in a disheveled state and couldn’t help but steel yourself for the possibility he would make some terrible jab at you and your situation. You let yourself crumple into yourself as you sunk to the ground, taking a seat on the threshold of your still open front door.

"'S-sorry. I don't mean to be a crybaby." You shot a rude glare at him. Still upset that he had called you that so long ago.

“I feel so stupid!” You cried, your fists against your forehead. “I thought he wanted to be my friend.” Your voice trailed off, broken and quiet.

For a moment, Anakin was at a loss for words, his mind swirling as he scraped the nearly empty barrel of empathy stored in the back room of his brain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay." he murmured, his voices held a rare tenderness as he knelt down in front of you.

“Want me to beat his ass? I’ll do it.” He tried joking with you, sighing in defeat when it just made you cry harder.

He reached out, his thumb gently tracing along your cheekbone, wiping away each tear that escaped your eyes. Anakin's touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual behavior.

"You're just here to make fun of me."

"Hey, don't talk like that," he said softly, "I'm not here to make fun of you babe." he said, his voice carrying an undertone of genuine affection.

"I can be an asshole sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care.” He smirked, “I do have a shriveled up heart in here somewhere.”

Anakin's confession hung in the air, his words carrying a weight that revealed a deeper layer to his guarded personality.

You were so shell-shocked by his words that your sniffling halted completely, the guy had never said a more than a few grumpy words to you before. Now he was here in front of you, offering Comfort? What bizarre alternate reality had you stumbled into?

“You gonna say something or just stare at me?” He laughed.

“I- sorry.” You cleared your throat and scrubbed at your eyes, managing a half hearted smile, “thank you.”

"Yeah, yeah." He said sarcastically. Offering you his hand, "c'mon. Don't want the whole neighborhood seeing you like this."

You took his hand and let him pull you inside, he closed the front door and looked around, trying to decide what door led to your bedroom. Eventually he chose the correct one and guided you to your pink blanketed bed.

"Where's your stuff at? Like your pjs and shit?" he fumbled through the dresser, shoving the underwear drawer closed immediately, so embarrassed that he saw it he smushed his finger in the process.

"God damnit." he mumbled, shaking his hand. You giggled and pointed to the next drawer down.

He pulled out a set of cotton shorts and a matching shirt, adorned with a cute little Hello Kitty and strawberry print. Anakin held up the clothing, a mix of amusement and surprise playing on his face.

"Really?" he remarked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He handed you the pajamas, his fingersbrushing gently against yours.

"Take your time changing," he said, his voice softening with a newfound tenderness. "I'Il wait here."

Anakin settled himself on your bed, leaning against the headboard, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your figure as you walked into your bathroom. He wanted to give you the space and time you needed to collect yourself, to let the tears subside, but it was awfully hard when you left the door cracked open. Flashes of your legs could be seen as you kicked off your clothes and Anakin was valiantly fighting the urge to drool.

As you changed into your pajamas, his gaze trailed over your legs, appreciating the way the fabric was dragged up and over your curves. Anakin's thoughts wandered to something significantly less than holy, if he was a religious man he would’ve smote down by lightning just for forming those thoughts.

But he shook himself out of the trance, reminding himself to respect your privacy. Once you stumbled out from the bathroom, dressed in your ridiculous, albeit cute, pajamas, Anakin's eyes met yours, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"You did good, princess," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He patted the space next to him, silently inviting you to join him on the bed. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one, he wanted to create a safe space for you. Anakin genuinely cared about your well-being, at least right now in your drunken state.

He lifted up the blanket for you to crawl under, and patted your head awkwardly as he stood up. Stepping into the bathroom and searching through the cabinet, finding a wash cloth he wet it and then glanced around for soap. Shrugging his shoulders and deciding the hand soap was good enough. Trotting back over to you, dripping soapy water on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

"Close your eyes." he commanded softly.

Gently wiping off the black streaks on your face. The gesture made me sleepy, and soon enough you were half asleep. You heard him chuckled to himself and the wet smack of the washcloth landing in the sink.

"Night." he whispered thinking you were asleep, trailing a finger over your cheek. Soon after you heard the front door open andclose, knowing he'd went back to his house.

You thought maybe after that night Anakin would be a bit more friendly with you, but he'd ignored you even more than before. You were quickly getting exhausted of it. Everyday you’d see him leave his house, you’d wave and he'd ignore it.

Everyday you would see him come back home, You would wave and ask him how his day was and he wouldn't answer. He'd just go straight into his garage to take off his mechanic's jumpsuit. He even came to the diner were you worked at and you had to watch him request a different waitress just so he wouldn't have to speak to you in front of his band mates.

The next few days were more of the same, and you expected it to be no different when clocked in at the diner that afternoon. After sliding your punch card back into its slot you sauntered through the kitchen and greeted your coworkers on your way to the front.

After arriving at the counter you noticed a new flyer pinned to the cork board behind the register. In big bold sharpied letters the word 'Vermin' was followed by a date and time. The description was 'headbang at the hideaway with us.' The location was a well known party spot, an abandoned warehouse.

"Hey, what's this?" You pointed to it, one of the waiters coming over to explain that it was a local band.

"You know the drummer don't you? Blue hair? Tall?” He laughed at your shocked expression, and you explained that you never realized his band was popular enough to get a gig this large.

"Are you going?" You asked excitedly.

"No but I think Kristen and her boyfriend are." He pointed to the other waitress on shift.

You made a mental note to ask her more about it. You decided you were going, and you were going to look good doing it.

After work you went straight to the mall. There was only a day before the event and you knew you didn't have the right clothes.

"Sorry to bother you," Feeling extra brave you walked up to a girl standing outside smoking, she had on a t- shirt similar to one you had seen Anakin wear before. "do you mind if I ask where you got your shirt?"

You smiled, trying to be as polite as possible and not make a fool of yourself. A soft chuckle escaped her, but there wasn't a hint of malice behind it. For some reason you felt that she could be trusted, she had a calming vibe about her.

"Uh yeah, the only alternative store we in town is in there." She laughed, looking you up and down.

"I-| know I don't look the type." You put your head down in embarrassment. "there's this thing I want to go too and I don't want to look out of place."

“Oh don’t tell me it’s for some boy.” She gagged, smiling nonetheless.

“Yeah actually it is.” You blushed, picking at your nails, “Um thanks, I’ll just-“ she interrupted you.

"I'Il help you pick something out m'kay?" She pushed off the wall with her shoulder, her clunky boots smacking the pavement as she threaded her arm through yours and led you into the mall.

It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you, knowing that you wouldn't be left alone and confused in a dimly lit store you’d never stepped foot in. The air was thick with the sound of music and the scent of incense, the cashier cover in various body piercings and tattoos.

The girl took the lead, guiding you towards racks of clothes that resembled something similar to things you’d seen Anakin where before. Together, you flipped through hangers, choosing pieces that were definitely out of your comfort zone, but that you felt like you could easily pull them off.

Feeling like you were in a cheesy movie’s dressing room montage you experimented with band shirts, ripped jeans, and accessories that looked like they could be considered as weapons. Her presence provided a sense of comfort, assuring you that you were on the right track, it helped that she was perfectly comfortable being there herself.

The nerves that had once plagued you were replaced by a growing sense of confidence. The mirror reflected a version of you that felt stronger, more self assured. You were starting to understand the appeal of this type of dress and the scene it went with. The music flowing through the speakers started sounding less like pots, pans and rabid raccoons and more like drums, guitars and harsh vocals.

Finally, you settled on an outfit that made you feel empowered. You looked to your new friend, who had previously insisted despite her birth name being Deborah she was not a total loser and would rather you call her by her middle name, Marie.

"God. You look hot." She nodding her head in approval. “I’d fuck you.”

"Just chop this part off when you get home and you'll be irresistible." She made a scissor motion at the hem and sleeves of the shirt

"Chop it off?" You gasped. "why?"

She laughed, "Just gives it character, it'll make it look like you've worn it before and not like you just got it."

"Here." She dropped a chunky silver chain in your hands with a clip on each end. "that will go on your jeans okay? Then we'll rip some holes in here at your knees. And the shoes you have already are fine, converse go with everything. Let's go."

She pushed you toward the register, then out the doors and guided you towards the back entrance to the mall, stopping just outside the doors. She grinned, yanking the jeans from your bag.

“Don’t flip out.” She warned, grabbing the jeans by the waist and the end of the pant leg.

She pushed the toe of her boot to the fabric where the back of your knee would be and pressed it to the brick wall. She began rapidly sawing the jeans back and forth creating a distressed look. She tipped her head to you and offer the pants to you so you could do the other leg.

The act felt liberating, you’d never purposely destroyed brand new clothes before. Your movements were tentative at first, quickly escalating to something just shy of the force Marie had used. You let out a puff of air that blew your hair out of your face as you turned around to show her the pants.

She gave you an approving smile and tossed your bag over her shoulder, “Follow me, I’ve got some magazines and shit in my car you can have.”

“Magazines?” You questioned, bunching up the jeans in the crook of your arm to jog after her.

“Yeah, like for hair and makeup?” She laughed, headed toward a busted up black hatchback.

“Oh cool okay! Yeah I’d love that!” You giggled and clapped excitedly as she threw open the back seat’s door and ruffled through the mountain of discarded pop bottles, receipts and fast food bags.

“Ignore that.” she huffed when a grocery bag tied up with trash stuffed inside rolled out and onto the pavement.

She shoved the crinkled magazines into your shopping bag of clothes and picked up the trash bag and threw it behind her in her backseat, bumping the door shut with her hip.

“Thank you!” You threw your arms around her shoulders in a crushing hug that she wasn’t expecting, but quickly reciprocated.

“You got a pen in that purse?” She asked when you broke the embrace.

“Uh huh!” You nodded, easily finding it among the highly organized pockets and handed it to her.

She grabbed your wrist and wrote down her phone number, and pointing out the magazine was a subscription and had her address on it.

“I know you’ve got a little planner or address book or some shit like that.” She laughed.

“Yeah I do.” You blushed, smiling because she’d guessed correctly.

“Don’t forget to pencil me in okay babes?” She leaned in and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss like you’d seen people do in foreign films.

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[dragondemoness]

Hellooo, I saw your sdr2 girls with a reader who verbal stims with their names and talks in third person sometimes (like Ibuki ) and would like to request a similar one for the boys (esp Gundham 🐹) please 🎀 I loved the other one so much 💗 take care 🪴

DR2 Boys With an S/O Who Vocal Stims With Their Name

Hajime Hinata

It was a bit of an adjustment for him at first, but he grew to love it in no time

The first time you did it, he thought you needed something

"Right here, (Name). Is there something you need?"

"No. (Name) just likes saying your name. It's fun."

"Oh, I see."

He felt silly right afterwards, but he got used to it

He can't help but smile when he hears you stim with his name

And heating you talk in the third person was like Ibuki, but calmer

He wouldn't do it with you, but it's still really endearing to him

Nagito Komaeda

He thinks it's the most adorable thing ever

Anything that comes out of your mouth is his favorite sound by default, but when it's certain words or phrases you enjoy, he loves it even more

The first time you did it, he just gave you a curious look

"Hm? Did you need something, my hope?"

"Nope. (Name) just likes your name."

"Oh, I see. Well, then say it as many times as you want, my hope!"

It almost made him cry, honestly

He's amazed that anything about him is something you enjoy enough to stim with, so you're free to stim with anything you want

Occasionally, he'll join you by talking in the third person as well

He doesn't mean to make fun of you, though

If you don't like it, just tell him and he'll stop immediately

In the end, you're the most adorable and hopeful person he's ever met, and your stims only add to that

Kazuichi Soda

At first, he's just confused

He doesn't really understand what stims are at first, so hearing his name on repeat

"Huh? What's up?"

"Nothing. Your name is just really fun to say."

"Oh, really? Aww, that's adorable!"

It's actually really flattering, and he has stars in his eyes when he listens to you stim

He can't resist pulling you into his lap and kissing your face whenever you do it

He might talk in the third person with you, just to join in on the fun

If you don't like it, he won't do it again

In the end, you're just the cutest thing ever

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

He found it confusing at first

Hearing you say his name over and over was mildly annoying to him, and at some point, he snapped at you

"What?! I'm right here, so tell me what the fuck you want!"

"Nothing. Your name is just fun to stay."

"...Oh."

He felt really bad about it afterwards, and he doesn't comment on your stims anymore

He pretends to be annoyed, but he can't help but smile when he hears you stim with his name

Even though he doesn't say it often, he finds you and your stims adorable

Gundham Tanaka

He was also pretty confused at first

"Hm? What is it, my dark monarch?"

"Nothing. (Name) just likes Gundham's name. That's all."

"Really now? Hm... I see. Carry on, then."

Of course you like his name; he's the Supreme Overlord of Ice

It takes some getting used to, but it makes him smile to hear you stim

Your voice is his favorite sound, after all

The Four Dark Devas of Destruction enjoy it as well, and then everyone is having fun

Teruteru Hanamura

The first time you said his name on repeat, he called out to you from the kitchen

"Yes, my darling? Is there anything you need?"

"No. (Name) just likes your name."

"Oh, really now? Well, isn't that just the sweetest thing?"

He loves it

He loves hearing you talk in general, but hearing his name on repeat, even outside of the bedroom, is rather enjoyable

You're just the cutest thing to him, and your stims only makes you even cuter

Nekomaru Nidai

Hearing you stim for the first time immediately made him think you needed something

Or worse, you were actually in trouble

"WHAT HAPPENED, (NAME)?! ARE YOU HURT?! DON'T WORRY, I'M RIGHT HERE!"

"No, (Name) is fine. Your name is just really fun to say."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

You damn near gave him a heart attack, which is the last thing he needs, but he was relieved to know that it was just a stim of yours

Once he gets used to it, he finds it pretty adorable

It's flattering that you enjoy his name enough to stim with it

Ultimate Impostor

He doesn't understand them at first

Like most of the others, he just assumes you need something

"Yes, my dear? What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. Your name is just fun to say."

"Oh, I see."

He finds your stims really endearing, though

Sometimes, he uses his talent to see if you would say anyone else's names, and it doesn't work

His real name is your favorite, and he appreciates that a lot

Izuru Kamakura

He thinks nothing of it, honestly

The first time he heard you stim with his name, he dropped what he was doing and came straight to you

"Yes? Did you need something?"

"No. Your name is just fun to say."

"I see. Carry on, then."

After that, he didn't comment on it again, but he couldn't resist smiling a little when he heard you stim

He finds it incredibly endearing, even if he doesn't say it often

Overall, he appreciates your stims

They make you even more unique and not boring than you already were

[scorpioriesling]

Please Please Please H.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Xaden x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You have your sights set on bad news, you just don’t know how bad. You can only hope your friends aren’t right about how dangerous he truly is.

SR’s Note: Obviously the pairing features the reader as I usually tend to write, so we shall pretend Violet isn’t a character in this fic (: Although she is an absolute queen, she’s just not featured in this one. Peace & love, enjoy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

At first, you weren’t too sure if you actually liked him, or just thought he was handsome

(But after some time, you figured out it was more than physical attraction)

As for Xaden… he knew right away. Like, the moment he saw you, he was absolutely down bad

You actually saw him first, you both happened to be in the same bar at the same time one November night and once your eyes found him, you couldn’t help but simply stare.

“Listen sister,” Imogene said. She wasn’t actually your sister, but being a year older, she felt like she was. She was always looking out for you in a sense, anyway. “That’s Xaden Riorson. He’s absolutely bad news,” she said, but you just kept watching, fully entranced by him. “For you, anyway.” she added.

You rolled your eyes and asked her what that was supposed to mean. She only looked you up and down — over the mini skirt, corset top, and chunky heels — and back at him, his brown hair ruffled and leather clad black outfit reflecting the neon of the overhead lights.

“You don’t think I’m up for a challenge?” You raised an eyebrow. Quinn was approaching from the bar, and you all but snatched your shot glass from her and chugged it before meeting Imogene’s eyes again. Quinn only gawked at you.

She threw her hands in the air. “Absolutely not, I know you have balls, I just don’t want you getting hurt-“

“I can handle it.” You shot her one last look before weaving a path through the crowd, the handsome guy your pot of gold at the end. You were getting so close, you were mere inches away; but your foot caught on someone’s shoe and you stumbled-

“Easy there, short stack,” you heard a voice as smooth as whiskey from above as two strong hands whisked you up, setting you upright again on your platform heels. Your eyes met the deep brown ones of your target — just who you’d been looking for.

Turns out, your pot of gold was more than that, his eyes had reflected it too.

“Oh, uhmmm,” You fumbled nervously. The handsome guy only smirked, and you blushed nervously as his eyes roamed over your body.

“You have a name, short stack?” He asked. Your eyes flew wide. What a rediculous nickname, even in heels you couldn’t help your lack of height.

“Y/N.” You said shyly. He nodded, slowly glancing over your frame once more.

“Cute. Buttttttt I think I like short stack more.” He shrugged. You rolled your eyes not thinking better of it, and he laughed a little, his fingers finding the curve of your waist.

“Mhm. Should I come up with a rediculous nickname for you too?” You asked mockingly sweet as he hovered closer to you. The smell of Earth and mint eminated from him, and you tried to school your face into an unamused expression as you stared straight up at him.

“Oh, absolutely not. It’s Xaden.” He said, grinning down at you. You pursed your lips, and his other hand made its way to your opposite hip. He leaned in close, talking lowly so you could hear.

“Need me to help you stand, or do you think you can handle it?” He asks. You furrow your brows at him, heat tinging your cheeks once more as he chuckles at you. He lifts a hand and runs his thumb over your cheekbone.

“You know what short stack, you’re kinda cute. Feisty too,” your expression softens, and a genuine smile graces his lips. “I think I’ll keep you around, if you’d like.” You grin mischievously at him, and he leans in closer. You don’t care, you’d kiss this man right here and now, the drinks you’d had didn’t help that, but the way he halts at the last second leaves you a bit confused.

He glances to the left, and you follow his gaze to the back door of the bar where three beefy guys in black shirts filter in, scanning the crowd. Xaden sighs, and a flash of uncertainty crosses your mind.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. He smiles gravely at you, pulling you close to whisper once more.

“Listen short stack,” he starts. You peer around his shoulder, catching Imogene’s eye as she slowly shakes her head at you. “We may have to get outta here if you wanna continue this, that alright?” With that seductive voice, he could tell you to rob a bank and you’d do it for him.

You meet his eyes once more and sigh. “Xaden what… who are you?”

He all but winks at you, lacing your fingers through his before ducking to your height and wading through the crowd toward the front entrance. You can’t see around his broad shoulders, so you don’t realize you’re in the clear before the crisp November air hits you and you shiver. He straightens, and pulls you close to wrap an arm around you.

“I’ve got an extra jacket and helmet, I’m parked just around the corner, alright baby?” He coos. You stiffen in shock, but he only rubs his hand up and down your chilled arm soothingly.

“Helmet? For what-“

“HE’s OUT HERE!”

You glance back just to see the big guys from the bar running straight for you, a few bar attendees filtering out the front door behind them.

“Uhmm- Xaden-“

You squeak as he effortlessly whisks you into his arms, breaking into a jog down the street and you bury your face into his neck as the breeze whips against your face. Within minutes, he’s slowing, then stops to gently place you on a leather seat.

“Here, sweets,” he hands you a helmet, and you finally open your eyes to realize you’re on a motorcycle. This won’t go well with the alcohol you’d already consumed this evening.

He puts his own on, quickly strapping it and making quick work of adjusting yours to fit. His calloused fingers send thrills of excitement through you as he tightens each strap, and shucks on the extra leather jacket over your shoulders.

“Hold onto me short stack,” he orders. You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling just about every ridge of his abdomen underneath and adjusting yourself against the leather seat below. What the fuck did you get yourself into.

He revs the engine twice, and speeds past the men running down the sidewalk toward him. He keeps going, ignoring your panicked squeaks as you pass the bar once more, Imogene’s pink hair and grim look the final notion that you’re in for a wild ride.

You could only hope, only plead, that she wasn’t right.

ﾟ:* ✧

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.