#Imagines

[noonecareslol]

When it hits 9 pm and I pull out this combo:

Ps: I have severe writers block. Help

[lazysoulwriter]

pedrito & amorcito - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: pure fluff, established relationship, bilingual softness, contact names reveal, teasing, domestic cuteness, heart eyes everywhere

---

“Can you send that one to me?” he asks, nodding toward your phone — a photo you’d taken earlier of him with the sunlight in his hair, a warm smile mid-laugh. Your favorite face.

You pass him your phone. “Yeah, just AirDrop it to yourself.”

He opens your contacts.

And freezes.

Because there, at the very top — with a tiny little red heart and a sparkle emoji next to it — is:

Pedrito ❤️

His whole body melts.

“…Pedrito?” he reads aloud, like he needs confirmation.

You look up, cheeks warming. “Yeah. What about it?”

He turns to you slowly, eyes wide and already glittering. “You have me saved as Pedrito?”

You blink. “I’ve always called you Pedrito.”

“Yeah, but—in your phone?! That’s so fucking cute, baby, I—” He stops himself, lips twitching, trying to play it cool and failing completely. “That’s it. I’m blushing. I’m actually blushing.”

You giggle. “You like it?”

“I love it.” He presses the phone to his chest dramatically. “I’m gonna cry. This is romantic cinema.”

You nudge him with your knee. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he opens his phone, scrolls quickly, then shows you his screen.

Amorcito 💕

You gasp. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Pedro—”

He shrugs, smug now. “You really thought I’d have you saved as just your name? I’m not a monster.”

You fall into him, half-laughing, half-hiding your face in his neck. He wraps his arms around you instantly, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re so stupid,” you mumble against his hoodie.

“I’m your stupid,” he says, grinning. “Your Pedrito.”

You groan. “Never should’ve shown you.”

“Too late. It’s canon now.”

He kisses you again, warm and soft and annoyingly perfect. And when you check your phone later that night, he’s changed his contact photo to the sunlit picture you took earlier.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[improper-use-of-germx]

What if the monster under your bed just wanted to hang out with you? They twist and bend their body until they can hide themselves away, waiting patiently, unseen while you go about your normal life.

They like to listen to you. The music you play, the creak of the floorboards beneath each step, the almost indiscernible sound of you typing on a little screen. They especially liked listening to you as you lay in your bed above them, so close they felt every breath you took as if it were their own.

But their favorite part of the routine was after your breathing slowed, when the night was at its darkest and they could finally uncurl from their hiding place and stand to their full height. Well, almost. Your ceiling was a little too low and they had to stoop their head a bit, but they didn't mind bowing to you, sprawled out in your nest of blankets and pillows and other soft things. Their precious human friend, what wouldn't they do for you?

Sometimes they are content to just watch. When they think you seem tired today, and can't bear to possibly ever disrupt your few hours of rest, they stand over your sleeping form and stare until morning light forces them away again. They keep track of your heart rate, the way your eyes move under their lids while you dream, how often you toss and turn.

When they feel themselves get overwhelmed looking at you, they allow themself a little more. Sometimes they sit on the edge of your bed, letting their full weight dip the mattress towards them. They feel the heat from your body seep into the sheets and travel slowly to them, like water through a paper towel. Maybe one day they'll get closer, try to feel you non-vicariously. But for now, they're so happy just to be this close. They don't want to lose you yet.

[pucksandpower]

Sometimes I think about how there’s a whole community of people who love their fandoms enough to spend countless hours writing about them for free and a whole community of people who love their fandoms enough to spend countless hours reading those fics … and it makes me so happy to be part of something so amazing.

[pastanest]

so cute how reid is the baby of the team even to luke alvez who is canonically at least a decade younger than spencer and by the time he goes to prison really doesn’t know him that well but immediately joins the “get our son out of that cell or so help me” mentality

[edawgz]

ᝰ.ᐟ heat signature

| frank castle x reader. ~1k words. tension, enemies to lovers. alphabet soup F.

masterlist. | alphabet soup. | oneshot masterlist.

He showed up with blood on his knuckles and a scowl that could cut glass, standing in the doorway of your safehouse like he owned the air you were breathing. You didn’t bother looking up from the schematics spread across your table because if he wanted to shoot you... he’d have done it already.

“You leaking intel to Russo’s leftovers?” Frank asked, voice all gravel and full of accusations, like the question was just a formality before he decided whether or not to rearrange your face.

You slid a blueprint aside, slowly and carefully, giving yourself time to contain the burst of annoyance crawling up your spine. “Would I have sent them directly into your line of fire if I wanted them alive?” you asked without inflection. “Next time, try reading between the lines instead of through the scope.”

Frank didn’t smile, he rarely did, but something flickered in his expression. Irritation, maybe? Or the slightest twitch of amusement like he wasn’t sure whether to choke you or thank you. That was always the dance with him.. threat or flirtation. Sometimes it was both.

“You playing puppet master now?” he asked, stepping further inside without permission, heavy boots echoing across the concrete floor.

You leaned back in your chair, watching him like he was a chess piece made of live ammo. “Someone has to be,” you said. “You break into buildings like a hammer. I’d rather not get caught in your shrapnel.”

His jaw flexed. “So that’s what this is. You’re.. watching my six now.”

“I’m watching your mess,” you corrected, and stood slowly, giving him the full weight of your stare. “You think you’ve got a monopoly over rage and dead family? Newsflash, Castle.... you’re not special. You’re just loud.”

It was a low blow. You knew it before the words finished leaving your mouth, but you didn’t take it back. That was the rule between you.. no apologies, and no softness. Just sharp edges and bad timing, with bruises blooming beneath the skin where the other couldn’t see them.

He was close now -- too close -- and the tension between you drew tight like a pulled wire. You could smell the gunpowder and sweat on him, see the dark bruise at the corner of his jaw that hadn't been there the last time you saw him. You wondered if he ever got tired of hurting.

“Keep talking like that,” he said, low and dangerous, “and one day I might stop letting you walk away.”

“Who says I’m walking?” you shot back.

Silence. Heavy, heated silence. The kind of pause that thrummed in your chest like a warning siren.

There were nights you imagined what it would feel like to grab him by the collar and kiss the fury out of his mouth. Nights where you imagined what it was like to taste what burned behind his bitterness, to see if all that anger could be turned into something less destructive, if only for a moment. There were days you hated yourself for thinking it.

Because you weren’t allies, not really. You worked around each other, sometimes with each other, but more often in spite of each other. You moved in the same underworld circles -- different methods, same goals. You collected intel. He collected corpses. And yet, you found yourselves circling the same targets, the same motives, again and again like something cosmic was forcing your orbits to collide.

“You always this full of yourself?” he asked finally, stepping back enough to give you air but not enough to give you peace. “Or is this just for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Castle,” you said, even as your pulse betrayed you, as the heat crawled beneath your skin in places you didn’t want to name. “You’re just another man who thinks violence is a personality trait.”

He chuckled, it was a low, humorless thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. “And you’re just another mouthpiece for cowards who hide behind tech.”

You stepped forward. “I don’t hide.”

“No,” he agreed, mirroring you in taking a step forward. “You just pretend you're not involved.”

The insult landed somewhere deeper than it should have. Maybe because it was true. Maybe because you knew he was one of the only people who could say something like that and make you feel it. That was the trouble with Frank Castle — he saw through bullshit like it was smoke in the wind.

The worst part? You admired him for it. God help you, but you did.

“I do what needs to be done,” you said, voice quiet but steely. “Just because I don’t leave a trail of bodies doesn’t mean I’m not in this fight.”

He looked at you for a long time. Not with pity (he’d never offer something so soft), but with the kind of intensity that made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

You wondered if he hated you more for standing toe-to-toe with him… or for being the one person who didn’t back down.

“You got blood on your hands too,” he said finally.

“And I sleep just fine,” you replied, even though you both knew it was a lie.

The silence between you deepened. Thickened. You could feel it press against your skin like a second heartbeat. When he stepped forward again, this time without the pretense of anger, you didn’t move. His hand came up, hesitating for half a second before brushing your jaw, not rough or gentle, just deliberate.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, his voice so low it barely registered.

You should’ve lied. You should’ve told him it was about the money or the data or the power. But in that moment, standing in the half-light with Frank Castle’s gaze on you like you were something real, something understood.. you didn’t.

“Because I need to,” you said. “Because I can’t stand watching people like you run headfirst into hell and call it justice.”

“And you think you’re better?”

“No,” you said, quietly. “But I think I’m still trying to be.”

Something shifted in his face. A crack in the armor. A breath too long.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was punishment and permission, teeth and tongue and the taste of something long denied. You kissed him back like you were trying to make a point, trying to match every scar on his soul with one of your own.

You broke apart just long enough to breathe.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you said, your forehead resting against his.

“No,” he agreed, voice hoarse. “But it shuts you up.”

You laughed breathlessly and surprised... and then pulled him back in.

---

When he left the next morning, he didn’t say goodbye. He never did. But your safehouse door was locked behind him, and your comms log had a new encrypted ping waiting in the system -- coordinates, a time, and no signature. It was how he said see you soon.

You leaned back in your chair, blood still humming under your skin, and smiled to yourself like a woman who’d just danced with the devil and found him familiar.

[dreamlitkiss]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ helping your f/o's heal,

even when the process isn't "pretty". . .

...because they help you more than they know.

They’ve held you together on your worst days, steadied your mind when you couldn’t trust yourself to, listened when the words were hard and stayed when they didn’t have to.

But love goes both ways.

You see the weight they carry, too. The parts they don’t talk about unless it’s late and quiet. You see the way they take care of others so easily, yet flinch at being cared for. You know what healing can look like: uneven, unglamorous, sometimes hard to watch.

There are days when their armor slips, and you catch the truth of it all. Their trembling hands, the tired crescents beneath their eyes, the unspoken storms that flicker in their gaze; and you learn that love isn’t rushing to mend but standing beside the cracks, letting light through.

That's your only aim. To know they feel seen, especially when their own world fails them.

[clairewritesfanfics]

zombie au

Y/N who ends up getting infected by a zombie virus and her Mark refuses to kill her.

He's unaffected by the virus no matter how many times you scratch and bite him.

He keeps you safe and secured in isolation, away from those pesky humans who will kill an infected on sight. You're free to roam inside your room. He refuses to chain you up.

He promises he will not stop until he figures out a cure, kidnapping scientists all over the universe and getting as many test subjects as possible. Running out of infected to experiment on? Very well, he will infect another continent if that's what it takes.

A Mark who will even build a human baby factory just so the doctors have a fresh batch of samples.

Alternatively, imagine Mark getting infected by a unique Viltrumite-targetting strain that turns him into a mindless, destructive beast, except when it comes to you.

Even in the grasp of madness his brain guards his love for you and he will instinctively stop his aggression when you are present.

Zombie Mark who lets you ruffle his hair and embrace him, who never bites you even when he sees your bare flesh.

You swear to him that you will find a cure and use your own technology to dominate the other Viltrumites, capturing every single infected to be dissected and used. 

And so what if you run out of Viltrumites? You can always produce more. Thraxans are only good for propagation, anyway.

(Two yanderes going yandere for each other is one of my favorite things. It's so grotesque, I love it so much. Also, for the anons who messaged me via ask box, the inbox isn't loading properly due to wifi issues so I won't be able to discuss/answer what you sent me at the moment. Anyway, good night!!)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[aervera]

PUBLIC MENACE

synopsis. gojo thinks you’re the real troublemaker for being too cute in a crowded café. contents. SFW, tooth-rotting fluff, gojo being gojo. notes. my first ever imagine. be gentle with me please.

MASTERLIST

it’s not your fault.

you were just sitting there, minding your own business, sipping an iced matcha latte and flipping through the menu at your favorite café in shibuya. your sundress was modest — okay, maybe it had a bow at the back and a slightly twirly skirt, but you hadn’t dressed with intentions. you’d only planned to meet your annoying, cocky, ridiculously attractive boyfriend for lunch.

and then satoru gojo walked in like he owned the entire ward.

he spots you in a second, even though the café is packed. his eyes — though hidden behind his signature black sunglasses — lock onto you like a homing missile. and you already know, from the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, that he’s up to something.

you watch him approach with that confident, lazy gait — hands in pockets, white hair slightly mussed, jujutsu high hoodie casually slung over one shoulder. he looks like he belongs in a commercial, or worse, a fanfiction.

he drops into the seat across from you and doesn’t even glance at the menu. instead, he leans in, rests his chin on one hand, and grins.

“your cuteness,” he says, voice low enough to feel like a secret, “is making everyone stare. stop it.”

you blink.

then you scoff. “excuse me?”

gojo tilts his head, as if he’s genuinely concerned. “i’m serious. that thing you’re doing with your lips while reading the menu? adorable. that little crinkle in your nose when you’re trying to decide if you want fries or mochi pancakes? weaponized cuteness.”

you raise a brow. “you’re the one who walked in here looking like an off-duty k-pop idol. if anyone’s getting stared at, it’s you.”

he shrugs, completely unbothered. “that’s different. i’m always stared at. but you?” he leans even closer, and you can smell the faint trace of his cologne — something fresh, clean, dangerously addictive. “you’re my secret weapon. my greatest weakness. my biggest distraction.”

you roll your eyes, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your neck. “you’re being dramatic.”

he rests his cheek on his palm and smiles wider. “and you’re blushing. which, by the way, is also making everyone stare.”

you glance around. a few people are sneaking peeks. whether it’s at you or at gojo is anyone’s guess, but you pretend to hide behind your menu anyway.

“i should’ve picked a quieter place,” you mumble.

he hums in agreement, but there’s mischief dancing in his expression. “but then i wouldn’t get to show off how cute my girlfriend is to the general public. i mean, look at you. you're like a cupcake with legs.”

you shoot him a look. “you’re so weird.”

“weirdly in love,” he corrects, and then groans dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “god, even your annoyed face is cute. what am i supposed to do? you’re out here breaking hearts, babe.”

you snort. “the only heart i plan on breaking is yours if you keep talking like that.”

“ooh, threats. now that’s hot.”

you try to stay irritated, but it’s difficult when he’s beaming at you like you hung the stars. even when he’s being obnoxious — especially when he’s being obnoxious — he manages to make your heart skip. you glance down at the menu again, hoping he’ll stop staring.

he doesn’t.

you sigh. “do you want to order or just keep flirting?”

he smirks. “who says i can’t do both?”

you deadpan, “gojo—”

“alright, alright,” he surrenders, raising his hands in mock defeat. “but only because i can’t let my cupcake starve. what are you having?”

you end up ordering the mochi pancakes and he gets some ridiculous triple-shot iced espresso with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. the barista barely blinks — clearly used to his chaos — but you can’t help but laugh.

“you have the palate of a ten-year-old.”

“and you,” he says, swirling his straw like it’s a fine wine glass, “have the laugh of an angel. seriously, they should bottle that sound.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“but you love me.”

“unfortunately,” you mutter, just as the food arrives.

he steals a bite of your pancakes and makes an exaggerated moan. “delicious. just like you.”

you swat his hand. “people are watching, gojo!”

“that’s what i’ve been saying!” he exclaims, pointing at you with his fork. “you’re the one being criminally adorable! i’m just responding to the threat!”

you give him a look that promises vengeance, but he only winks in response. and for a moment, despite the noise around you, the packed café fades into a comfortable blur.

there’s a kind of bubble that gojo pulls you into — effortless, warm, and just a little chaotic. and even though he can be a menace, he’s your menace.

you eat in a kind of teasing peace, trading bites and sarcastic commentary, until he says — more quietly this time — “you know i mean it, right?”

you glance up.

he’s taken off his sunglasses, revealing those impossibly blue eyes, and his usual grin is softened with something more honest.

“you are cute,” he says. “but it’s not just the dress or your smile. it’s the way you light up when you talk about your favorite shows. the way you pout when you’re concentrating. the way you make even a quiet lunch feel like the best part of my day.”

you stare at him, suddenly speechless.

and then he adds, “still — i do wish you’d stop being so cute in public.”

you blink, touched but also unable to resist. “because people are staring?”

“because,” he says, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand, “it’s really hard not to kiss you right now, and i don’t think the world is ready for that level of public affection.”

you snort and squeeze back. “you’re lucky you’re hot.”

“don’t i know it.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo eating out his wife in bed, early in the morning?

Gojo rolled over to flop on to his wife's side of the bed and discovered that she wasn’t there. Which immediately woke him up and caused him to pout.

He had been very busy recently, training the kids and trying to keep all the new cursed activity at bay, and had been looking forward to sleeping in with his wife. But she wasn’t there! How rude….

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Gojo got a hint of fresh coffee in the air. He grumbled as he didn’t want to get up yet, but his stomach also grumbled as it realized fresh coffee meant breakfast too. A man needed to eat.

Meandering to the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes and bumping gently into walls, he found his wife indeed in the kitchen. Wearing one of his shirts that just covered her bum. Fuzzy slippers on her feet. Clearly moving onto her next task as the coffee perked on the stove.

“Oh! Good morning, Satoru.” [Y/N] greeted in a chipper tone. “I thought you wouldn’t be up for a while longer.”

“That was the plan.” Gojo replied. Mixed between a scold & a whine. He came up behind his wife and told her, “I rolled over and you weren’t there. It woke me up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” [Y/N] apologized. Nuzzling his head as it rested on her shoulder. “I wanted to make you breakfast though.” Gojo looked down and saw all the ingredients for his favorite French toast on the counter. Ingredients, he was sure, they did not have in their house when they went to bed last night.

Gojo felt his stomach do little flip-flops. Part hunger, part moved to quiver by the thoughtful gesture. He had to do something in return.

He kissed the side of his wife’s cheek, then neck, before he turned her around and kissed her fully on the mouth. He heard [Y/N] moan against his own lips and pulled her close so she could feel how excited he was for her & his present.

“Satoru….” [Y/N] breathed when he finally let her go. All breathy and cooing. “I can’t make breakfast if you hold me like that.”

“I’m not hungry for breakfast right now though.”

He then grabbed [Y/N] by the hips and popped her up on the counter. The neat file of ingredients being pushed back in a haphazard mess behind her as he knelt down in front of his wife. A man needed to eat.

Pushing the hem of his shirt she had stolen up over her thighs, Gojo leaned in to kiss the soft skin just past her knee and move up. Her legs parted for him. Probably because he was there but also to keep balance on the counter by distributing her weight more evenly. He moved her legs to his shoulders so she wouldn’t fall. Narrowing in on his prize he was pleased to see she wasn’t wearing any underwear, which made it all that much easier to flick his tongue against her entrance.

[Y/N] whimpered at the initial touch but quickly relaxed against the cabinets as Gojo ate her out with as much fervor as he did her cooking. Being so busy, it had been a while since he had had her taste on his tongue. He wanted to savor it, but patience nor restraint was ever Gojo’s strong suit.

His tongue lapped at her entrance. Swirling around her hole before he came back to suck on her clit. Her whines & moans got louder. The cabinets banged behind her as she clung onto one to hold on in a wave of pleasure. His hands had to hold on to her thighs to keep her moderately still.

“..S-Satoru…!” [Y/N] moaned. Her hips grinding into him and the quartz underneath her now. “Ahh..don’t stop…don’t stop…I’m gonna cum…I love you…I’m gonna…just a little…mhmph!” She bit her lip as her body went ridged. Thighs shaking by his ears. Her slipper flying off somewhere as her legs kicked out in ecstasy. Wave after wave of sweet honey coming over his tongue. A nice, sweet treat for the morning, if Gojo did say himself.

Once she had finished, Gojo pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Gochisousama, princess.”

[Y/N] chuckled. An almost sleepy sort of noise as she came down from her high. “I didn’t make you anything though. And…,” she looked down at the ingredients and found the eggs she had carefully laid out were crushed on the counter sometime during their escapades, “I guess I can’t now.”

Gojo snickered with a cheeky grin. “That’s ok. It’s the thought that counts.” He never believed that but in this case, he would make an exception. “Why don’t we just order in instead and we’ll get more eggs later. We can have French toast tomorrow?” He grabbed [Y/N]’s slipper and slid it on like Cinderella before he roughly pulled her off the counter. “I think we’re gonna be busy until lunch anyway.”

[yungbludz]

En Su Casa

SUMMARY: well deserved rest days back at home feel like torture for the champion…

WARNINGS: smut

You didn’t know exactly when or why things took a weird and unexpected— very predictable though— turn. Whether it was when Carlos finally came back home with you or when he laid in his bed after months of constant traveling around the globe. What you did know was that he was… restless.

His family had known you for a while yet you had been to their place only a handful of times. Carlos wasn’t home that often either so you mostly spent your time together during tournaments or on a beach somewhere warm. When he asked you to go back home with him you didn’t even hesitate. Anything for the champion, no? Oh boy, you were in for a ride.

At first you didn’t even notice. Well, you didn’t put two and two together at least. When you walked into his house, his parents were making dinner together. His whole family was there for their champion and you felt pride and joy overwhelm you as they congratulated him warmly. Carlos thanked each and every one of them, hugging some and kissing some others before excusing the two of you to go put your bags in his room.

“Can I take a shower before dinner? I feel gross,” you commented as you tried to find a spot for your bag. You didn’t even acknowledge Carlos, being very surprised his room was in its usual messy state — courtesy of his mom.

“Of course. Maybe we can even shower together and save some time, no?” You were used to this kind of jokes. Carlos was always rather flirty with you but it didn’t mean that he always wanted to act upon his eleven year old jokes. In hindsight you should have seen the way he was eyeing you up and down or how he was already taking his shirt off. Yet you giggled and brushed it off, grabbing your clothes and closing the door behind you.

The next hint should have been after that dinner. You were helping loading the dishwasher with Carlos— which should have been odd enough to ring a bell since Carlos was not one to volunteer to help. He was passing you the dirty dishes to put them in. His mother had insisted you let her do the hard work but you shook your head and told her she should relax. You were staying there for a few days, the least you could do was help out around the house. Carlos had quickly stood up and followed you. Even his own family shared a look of confusion.

You were listening to his family banter coming from outside. It wasn’t hot yet in Murcia which allowed you to enjoy a chill evening out on their little terrace. Carlos was awfully quiet for someone who didn’t know what quietness meant.

“Everything okay?” You had asked at some point turning around. Carlos looked up from the pile of dirty dishes and smiled. You should have noticed it wasn’t his usual lovey dovey grin: it was a smirk.

“You are so sweet. Taking care of my mom and of my family,” he stated nonchalantly. You smiled back and shrugged your shoulders, resuming the activity of putting dishes in the dishwasher.

“It’s no problem. Your mom deserves some rest,” you replied absentmindedly.

“Hopefully you’re taking care of me next,” he had murmured. And maybe, just maybe, if you had seen the look on his face you would have understood his words’ true meaning. But you weren’t facing him.

“I always take care of you, sweetie,” you said sweetly. Carlos sighed and tried to say something back so that you could get him but his grandmother stepped inside the house. You didn’t notice, too engrossed in your conversation with his grandma but Carlos rolled his eyes and sighed annoyed. Not at you, but at the situation he was finding himself. Every time he tried something either you wouldn’t get the memo or one of his family members cockblocked him.

The next time he tried something funny was around bed time. His extended family had finally left and the rest of the house had gone to bed. You were brushing your teeth, washing your face and getting ready to sleep while Carlos laid in his bed only wearing a pair of boxers with his hands behind his head. The memory of his win in Rome only a distant memory now. There was something else he wanted now, almost more than winning in Paris again.

When you finally came back into his room he eyed you up and down. You were wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy or sexy. But it was the most attractive thing on earth for him, maybe because he had started to think with his dick and not his brain.

“Amor, vengas aquí,” he called for you as you paid him no attention. One thing Carlos was most of the time was needy. He needed your whole attention every single time. It was endearing to be fair. You locked your phone and crawled on the bed to lay next to him but he redirected you so that you sat in his lap.

“I missed you,” he mumbled tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You grinned confused.

“Missed me? We have been together the whole day,” you reminded him but he pouted and shook his head. His hands fell to your naked thighs and stayed there, caressing the skin.

“C’mere,” you leaned in to kiss him. He wasn’t entirely wrong: you had been together the whole day but you were always surrounded by family members. Carlos welcomed you in his arms. You pecked his lips but he was the one to deepen the kiss. His hands moving from your legs to your waist to pull you closer, his mouth moving slowly yet hungrily against yours. He was a good kisser, always been. The type of kisser to make your legs wobble and insides twist. But you knew a few tricks too. You knew he liked it when your pulled his hair gently or when you bit his bottom lip.

What had started off as a simple kiss turned into a sloppy make out session. Carlos was so invested in it that he forgot where he was and how quiet he needed to be. He was so used to hotel rooms where he could be as loud as he wanted because he always booked his room as far away as possible from his team that it didn’t cross his mind the fact that his parents were two doors away from his bedroom.

“Shh…” you giggled when he let out a grunt. He let out a breathy giggle and enjoyed your lips on his for a little longer. Your nails scratched his scalp as you kissed him. And then, suddenly, you pulled away.

“Time to sleep,” you had reminded him while trying to get off him. Carlos looked at you in shock and bewilderment. He glanced at you and then down at his lap, his white boxers did nothing to conceal his growing bulge.

“Amor?”

“Yes, we can cuddle. But don’t snore,” and with that you turned around and went to sleep. Carlos was so confused he didn’t even protest at first. He was so confident all that kissing would lead up to what he wanted that the thought of you just going to sleep after getting him all worked up baffled him. Did you really not get in the mood after making out? Did he do something wrong? Oh God. What if you didn’t like having sex with him? Did he not satisfy you anymore? Carlos tried to remember if there was ever a time when he behaved selfishly during sex. Did you fake your orgasms? Oh God. Was he one of those guys? Those who can’t tell when their girls are faking it? Carlos started to spiral. Going to sleep was now the last thing he could do but you seemed to be fast asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Therefore Carlos turned, flipped around, huffed and puffed as he tried to find the right position. Yet the problem wasn’t the position, it was thinking you weren’t attracted to him anymore.

What Carlos didn’t realize was that his single sized bed wasn’t big enough for you to not feel every single movement he made. Therefore you weren’t getting any sleep either. Thanks to him. It was around midnight when you finally took matters into your hands and turned around to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. He was taken off guard because he genuinely thought you were sleeping.

“Nada…” he tried to lie but he was the worst liar on earth.

“C’mon tell me. Why aren’t you sleeping? Whatever is bothering you is bothering me too since I can’t sleep if you keep moving around,” you sighed and sat up to turn on the little light he had on his nightstand. Carlos debated whether or not he should have said something. He hated showing he was insecure to you but he also knew it was better to work it out together than to hide it.

“¿No te gusta como follamos?” (Do you not like how we fuck?) it was so random that you stared at him with the most puzzled look you could come up with. Was he on drugs? Did he drink any wine at dinner? The lack of answer made Carlos internally panic.

“You don’t? Oh god, are you going to break up with me?” He blurted out panicking. Uh? You stared at him as if another head had grown out of his neck.

“What are you talking about? Where is all of this coming from?” You finally spoke. He had blindsided you with this sudden question.

“You have been avoiding having sex with me,” he stated matter of factly. You tilted your head to the side and furrowed your brows. Uh? You couldn’t recall a single time when you had rejected his advances.

“Earlier. I thought we were going to fuck but then you went to bed,” he finally explained. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t calm Carlos down at all. Now you were laughing at him. Oh God, it was over. He was officially single.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he pouted and crossed his arms looking down.

“Oh no, baby. I’m laughing because I had no idea you wanted to have sex. Carlos, we are literally two doors away from your parents. I thought it wouldn’t be appropriate,” you tried to explain your thought process. That finally calmed Carlos. So you didn’t hate him? Good to know.

“But why not?” He kept pouting. He was cute when he did that. You smiled and caressed his cheek sweetly.

“Because, baby, you are the loudest person ever when we fuck and I don’t think either of us wants your family to know that,” your point was more than valid. Carlos embarrassingly smiled but didn’t give up. He was confident he could keep it quiet.

“Pero puedo ser quieto,”

“You couldn’t even be quiet with my panties in your mouth in Rotterdam and Juanki was next door,” you reminded him. You weren’t wrong. His coach side eyed him the whole flight back home. Carlos wanted to talk back but he knew you were absolutely right. Yet he couldn’t change his mind. The bulge in his boxers had a mind of its own.

“Pero amor…” he started to talk and put his big puppy eyes to work. You giggled and shook your head. You weren’t going to let him get away with this. Carlos grabbed your hand and tried to pull you closer by also grabbing your waist.

“Carlos,” you warned him pointing a finger to his chest. He was playing with fire.

“Pero, amorc mira lo que me haces. No puedo estar así toda la noche, ¿no?” He took your hand in his and led it downward till you reached his boxers. He was hard. You rolled your eyes but you knew he was working his magic on you.

“Dale, amor. Te juro que puedo estar quieto,” he mumbled while kissing your shoulder and then your neck, leading to your cheek and then his mouth ghosting over your lips. Damn. He was hard to resist.

“The first sound I hear coming out of your mouth I am stopping,” you warned him. He nodded like a good boy and smiled. Of course he always got what he wanted…

You didn’t know how hard it was to be quiet. You assumed Carlos would be the one struggling the most but you were wrong. He was sitting up against his headboard while you rode him. You were sure your jaw was going to snap soon because of how hard you were clenching it. Carlos licked his lips and sighed. His hands guiding your hips as he imposed an atrociously slow rhythm. You could feel every inch coming in and out of you. It was torture.

“Carlos,” you whined as he slowed down.

“Quieta,” he scolded you. The audacity… you looked away and tried to breathe in and out. This wasn’t pleasure, this was medieval torture and why on earth was he enjoying this so much? You bit your bottom lip and clenched around him every time he bottomed out. He gave you a warning look but that didn’t stop you.

“Y/N,” he grunted as you continued. He couldn’t expect you to keep going like this the whole night.

“Shut up,” you shushed him. Your hands holding onto his broad shoulders for leverage. He gripped your waist and let you finally move. And so you did. You went faster and he began to struggle. His mouth dropped open as you rode him the way you both liked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the point where your bodies were conjoined, the way his cock slipped in and out of you.

“Joder,” he grunted sinking his nails in your flesh. You didn’t stop, resting your forehead against his as you tried to find a more stable position. The skin to skin wasn’t very quiet but you prayed the door and the walls would muffle the sound. Whereas you took care of Carlos’ increasing grunts by slapping your hand over his mouth. Of course he couldn’t shut the fuck up.

“Carlos, I swear—“ you groaned when he let out a deep grunt. He couldn’t even be quiet on court. What did you expect?

The Spaniard took you off him, which left you puzzled and annoyed. He flipped the two of you around so that you would be lying on your back and he sneaked between your legs, his face hovering over yours and his arms around your head.

“What are you—“ he pushed your legs back so that he could have more access. His face was soon hid in your neck where all of his grunts and moans were muffled. The angle switch did wonders on your core. You sank your teeth in your bottom lip to silence yourself.

“Fuck,”

“Be quiet,” he reminded you smugly. The prick.

His pace was ruthless and didn’t let you even breathe. He was going harder than you expected but you could also feel your orgasm build up faster.

“Amor, un día me vas a matar,” (you’re going to kill me one day) he muttered breathlessly. You wanted to answer something snarky back but you didn’t trust your own voice in that moment. Carlos’ stamina and strength on court were just as impressive in bed. His hips ruthlessly slapped against yours till you couldn’t take it anymore. His teeth bit your neck, his hands fisted the sheets as he teetered over his own orgasm.

“Correte para mí,” he begged you in your ear and you could only do as you were told. Carlos followed you right after, coming undone inside of you. His hot seed spilling into your throbbing core. You tried to be quiet in the process, biting onto his shoulder. Carlos pulled out after a few seconds and smirked when he saw his cum spill out of you and onto his sheets.

“Great, now we have to make the bed again,” you huffed and tried to sit up but Carlos quickly pushed you back down. He towered over you with a big smug, his naked and hard chest almost intimidating.

“I’m not done,”

[lazysoulwriter]

stay close - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: explicit smut, established relationship, sleepy summer sex, lace lingerie, soft dom!pedro, needy and affectionate, praise, gentle asking, cockwarming turning into slow love-making, intense emotional connection

The fan hums softly, spinning uselessly above your bed.

It’s summer in LA. The kind of heat that lingers in your bones. You’re half-asleep on the cool sheets, barely covered, chest rising slow and soft. Pedro’s behind you, wide awake and suffering.

Not because of the heat. Because of you.

You’re wearing that new set you tried on earlier — black lace, barely-there, the kind that wasn’t really made for sleeping but you insisted anyway. “It’s too hot for anything else,” you mumbled, already climbing into bed.

Now here you are. Back pressed against him, your ass snug against his thighs. One strap slipped off your shoulder. Your hips shifting every so often in your sleep, dragging that sweet curve over the very obvious problem in his boxers.

Pedro groans quietly into the pillow.

He wants you.

No—he needs you. Just to feel close. Just to have you wrapped around him, even if it’s slow. Even if it’s quiet. Even if all he gets is a little of you, half-asleep and pressed up against his chest, breathing softly while he stays buried inside you.

He leans in and kisses your shoulder. Soft. Careful.

You stir just a little, humming.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice like gravel. “You awake?”

“Mmm… kinda.”

His hand drags slowly over your waist. He presses a kiss behind your ear, lips warm and needy.

“Can I… stay inside you?” he asks, barely above a breath. “Not fuck. Not yet. Just—be close.”

You blink, still half-lost in sleep, but the way he says it makes your body ache. He sounds so tender. So full of want.

“Yeah,” you whisper, reaching back to touch his hip. “Yeah, baby. Come here.”

He pushes his boxers down, carefully tugs your panties to the side. Takes his time. Just the tip of him sliding between your folds has him exhaling like it’s relief.

And then he’s inside. Slowly. Deeply. Filling you with a low moan that makes your whole body shiver.

You gasp softly. “Pedro…”

“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just like this. You feel so fucking good. So warm. Let me stay.”

His hands grip your hips, not to thrust — just to hold. To anchor himself in the sweetness of you.

But the longer he stays buried in your heat, the harder it gets to hold back. You’re clenching gently, body responding even in your daze, and he can’t help the way his hips start to roll. Slow. Deep. Intimate.

You moan.

“Wanna make love to you,” he whispers, breath shaky. “Let me. Please.”

And you nod, already melting for him.

What follows isn’t fast or rough. It’s needy. Soft kisses. Slow strokes. His hand slipping under your lace bra to thumb over your nipple. His mouth on your shoulder, your jaw, your cheek.

“So beautiful,” he pants. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You come with a whimper, pressed into the mattress, body trembling around him as he follows seconds later — groaning your name like it’s the only thing that ever mattered.

After, he holds you even tighter. Still buried inside. Still connected. Still needing to be as close as possible.

You whisper, half asleep, “I love you.”

And he kisses your shoulder again, whispering, “I’ll never get enough of you.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖° 🖇️Let Me Be Your Fool ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#2 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

drabbles/scanrios: nishimura riki x bubbly cutesy fem presenting! reader FLUFF

i cannot get that gawdang song out of my head

we love an opposite aesthetic couple

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

adores you so so much, to the point where he finds himself staring at you without saying a word, just admiring you.

enjoys seeing the contrast of aesthetics between you. his more hip edgy style focused on dark colours and baggy silhouettes vastly contrasting your soft lacey style more on flowy fabrics, dainty patterns, and florals.

whenever you'd go out on dates, he would always have his digital camera with him to capture even the littlest details of you. the glitter eye makeup you had on? captured. you had a ribbon in your hair? done. had pearl earrings on? obviously. you had a faux orchid on your kitten heels? he's about to take a picture no matter how much you protest.

another endearing thing he would do for you without question during your little outings together is hold your bag or purse no matter how pink, lacey, and glittery. your bag would stand out like a sore thumb hung on his shoulder during shopping sprees or walks in the park, and every time you would say you could carry it as to not ruin his whole vibe, he stubbornly declines, saying you could never ruin anything.

one time, you guys attended a music festival together, your feet aching from constantly standing and walking around in your heels, even if it was the lowest pair you had. with a single complaint, ni-ki switched shoes with you. his huge timberlands comfy against the stinging pads of your feet while he nonchalantly stood barefoot in his socks, enjoying the music. he even tried wearing your heels for a minute. eventually, you felt bad he had to endure the music festival in just his socks, but he didn't care how dumb he looked or how dirty his socks got as long as his girl was comfortable.

we all know how obsessed he is with chrome hearts. this boy does not shy away from sharing his obsessions with you because you're top 1 of them all. would absolutely scour the whole internet and take his time searching physical stores to look for merchandise you would love. anything pink he could find, automatically pulling out his wallet for you.

trust that he will always have something that symbolizes you with him. whether it be a cute cat keychain hanging on his leather bag, or a cutout of your kiss mark he stubbornly insisted you make for him inserted in his phone case. one time you caught him tie one of your ribbons to his belt hoop, a final touch to his outfit.

loves sleepovers with you. especially your makeup or skincare sessions. will patiently hold on to your waist as you smear another product he has no idea about on his face, loving the sensation of your gentle fingers running all over his skin. one time, he insisted you give him a 'glam makeover', which was a full face of makeup like yours. you argued with him the whole time because he could not keep a straight face, causing you to keep messing up the makeup. he just couldn't resist the smile tugging at his lips everytime he saw you so focused trying to do his 'glam makeover'.

he loves music, and it was hard for him not to associate every song with you. throughout your days together, he would blow up your messages, sending links to songs, pestering you to listen and share your thoughts on it. ofcourse, playlists handpicked by himself were no exception. the cover photos? the candid photos he would take of you.

[flvvffy]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

wc: 488. not proofread

soft!sukuna who loves it when you run your fingers through his hair. he instantly closes his eyes and nuzzles closer. the feeling of your nails grazing his scalp os sensational. he lets out breathes of contentment, resting his cheek on your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. and don't you dare stop. he'll look at you like you just offended his bloodline. "who told you you can stop woman?", he places your hand back on the top of his head, while you just smile at him.

soft!sukuna who feels the most reassured when he has your hand in his in public. especially when there's a large crowd, or even if there isn't, he just likes having your hands in his warm, rough and larger hands. rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb and lightly squeezing it to let you know he's there.

soft!sukuna who jolts awake almost instantly when you move away from him in his sleep. before meeting you, he had a harder time falling asleep, but he can now, almost immediately with you in his arms. but if you move away from him, he gets up with a scowl on his face and pulls you closer. "try that again and see what happens", this time pulling you in closer and tighter.

soft!sukuna who absolutely adores your forehead kisses but will never admit it, not even to you, but you know. the way his cheeks and ears immediately flush and he avoids eye contact from you, trying to act like it doesn't faze him. and when you don't give him a kiss, he basically acts like a brat towards you, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. "don't act like you care", he says when you try to ask him, but one kiss and he'd back in your arms.

soft!sukuna who as big as he is, prefers to be the little spoon whenever you cuddle. especially on days when he's just moody and wants to enjoy the comfortable silence between you two. the feeling of his cheek pressed against your chest, and the soft beating of your heart easily calms him down during one of those days.

soft!sukuna who lets you have the first bite of his food whenever you go out to eat. "have some. need to make sure it's not poisoned before i eat it", he jokes but in reality, he just like feeding you. just the act of you taking the spoonful no questions asked and the face you make when is delicious or not, he lives for that. his heart and stomach doing weird things to him.

soft!sukuna who will never admit to anyone, not even you, that he has a soft spot for you, even though it's so obvious because of the way that he treats and regards you, as someone important in his life. someone he loves...

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

[cherriicou]

older bf! seungcheol x college student! reader (f) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

a/n; doing this for my own sanity // word count; 1.2k

content; age gap, size difference, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cock-warming, hair-pulling, spanking, public/semi-public sex, degradation, praise kink, tummy bulge, office sex, smut with the smallest amount of plot

MDNI 18+ after cut

OLDER BF! CHEOL who first met you at your part-time job at the coffee shop near your home. shaky hands and pretty smile handing him his coffee, at his now go-to place. he knew his confident aura and flirty looks were being picked up by you. you were smart, just very shy and he liked that. he left you his number on the receipt after signing, along with a $20 tip. giving you chills as he gave you a wink and a small smirk before leaving the shop.

OLDER BF! CHEOL who gave you a date,time, and place as soon as you agreed to meeting with him. the restaurant he chose proved all your assumptions as it was extremely fancy. like you never thought you’d step foot in a place like this. his first time seeing you outside of work and oh he was in love. your hair out of that cute ponytail and perfectly sitting on your shoulders. the dress was simple but still made you look stunning. and him wow. his entirely black suit with the sleeves lifted, showing his huge arms that you so badly want to have on you.

OLDER BF! CHEOL who swears you can quit school and he will provide everything for you. you giggle at his request but decline as you believe he could do that, but you still wanted to pursue your career. he admits defeat and tells you how much he admires your ambition while keeping his eyes trained on you. you knew you were probably blushing like an idiot but somehow it felt right to, you wanted him to know how hot he makes you.

OLDER BF! CHEOL who couldn’t take you off him when you practically grabbed him and started kissing him. not an ounce of breath coming out of the heated make out session until he pulls you off so you could take it up to his place. as soon as you’re in there though, he’s already picking you up, having you wrap your legs around his torso while leaving kisses around your neck and jawline. his hands squeezing your ass under your dress, making you whimper in neediness.

OLDER BF! CHEOL who now has a slight obsession with having his mouth and fingers on your cunt. he is eating you out so sloppily, tongue digging in deep into your pussy as his fingers go in and out at the perfect pace. “you look so sexy like this, princess,” “look at you sprawled out for me,” all while you’re a moaning mess with your hands grabbing at both your tits and the bed. you melt at the sight of his face glistening with your wetness and immediately want more of him.

OLDER BF! CHEOL who knew he would have a size kink with you, i mean you were practically less than half the size of him. but this was even better than what he had imagined. you’re hand was latched onto his arm as he slowly stretched your poor cunt out :< he didn’t even know what to look at, your adorable fucked out expression or the way his cock looked disappearing into your pussy. “ahh, cheol-ah,” he only coos and smiles at you. “aw, you’re doing so well baby,” “pussy taking me in so good, fuck,” putting it all inside you.

OLDER BF!CHEOL who stared at the tummy bulge peaking out every time he thrusts into your tight cunt. “baby, look at that,” “my dick is destroying your little insides, isn’t it?,” you can’t even let out a response. your moans are beyond loud and all you can let out is ah’s and fucks and pleads. he just grunts, pounding harder to hear those whimpers you let out while struggling to tell him how it’s too much for your body </3

OLDER BF!CHEOL who is proud to have you at his side. his employees and assistants can look at him crazy all they want, but having you sit on his lap while he works or having you do your own homework on the couch in his office is what makes his life perfect. so what you have an age gap, you both were extremely happy with your life together. plus, he didn’t mind making people know why exactly you were with him.

OLDER BF!CHEOL who takes you in the private room near the bar that contains all the men who were staring you down. the fact that he could even afford to rent out that private room, and have a young beautiful girl with him was what he wanted them to see… and hear. your screams only getting louder as he pounds deep into you with his hands holding you against the wall. “yeah, let them hear your slutty moans princess,” he then turns you around so your pressed up against the wall, ass arched out to him, and he’s sliding into you immediately as you’re already being fucked relentlessly.

OLDER BF!CHEOL who even helps you study sometimes! oh, you keep getting these questions wrong? well he’ll make sure you won’t anymore! “please, cheollie,” “just move a bit,” you whimper as you sat on his cock. he smiles and only taps on the paper in front of you. your whines won’t work on him when it comes to you studying and it honestly does make you hate him a bit but then yes! you’re getting the questions right! and before you could celebrate, he’s already on it and giving you what you’ve wanted. you’re thrown onto the bed with seungcheol giving you the sweetest smile while aligning himself to your entrance. “my smart pretty girl,” and he starts fucking you hard. taking off all the stress you had from school and him finally being able to go crazy on your body :3 stuffing you full of his cum as a reward.

OLDER BF!CHEOL who thinks you’re the neediest girl alive. he thought you had work today, but instead he was brought with a nice surprise. you came into his work, a short skirt n cute top with a snack in hand, “wanted to hang out with you,” you smile sweetly. he smiles suspiciously until you sit directly on his lap and he feels your wetness start to soak his pants. “mmm, really princess?” “go ahead, use my thigh baby. let me work a bit more,” you nod your head and snuggle your face into his neck. god you’re such a tease to him, his slacks are completely ruined from your slick and the sweet smell of you is entrancing him. his continues his work calmly, not wanting to let your little game win but as soon as you orgasm once on his leg he figures it’s time to ruin you.

OLDER BF!CHEOL who bends you over his desk, making you whine as he teases your sensitive cunt. “couldn’t wait til i got home, little whore,” his hand smacks your ass. it felt so unbelievably good, the pain mixing with the orgasm you just felt. you call out his name only to have his tie shoved into your mouth while he rams into you from the back. your strangled moans making him even more turned on while he pounds into your sensitive pussy :< “no no, you wanted this doll,” “fucking take it,” god you needed to do this more often.