#foli's 3k

[foli-vora]

Helloooooo! 3000 that's flipping mental, congratulations!

Could I please request some pelvis smashing smut with Frank Castle and:

“H-How long have you been standing there?”

Thank yoooo! 💖

Sweet love! I appreciate you so damn much, thank you for your request. I'm so sorry for the insane delay, but I hope you enjoy this little bit of filth 💖

close up

frank castle x f!reader

word count: 1k-ish? i finished it in my drafts so idk warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, use of saliva as lube, masturbation (f), toy use, smidgen of voyeurism, oral (f), brief mention of double penetration

It’s stress that has you so wound up. Tension hangs in your muscles, an ache starts to build behind your temples. You just need something to take the edge off, something to throw yourself into to forget the shit day you’d had to endure. You just want to be—no thoughts, no anxiety, just calm bliss.

And you know exactly where to start.

Usually it would be him. He’s always there for you when you need him, always more than happy to please, to work those worries and stresses away until you’re nothing but a sweaty mess, all shaky limbs and panting breathlessly at the ceiling without a single coherent thought in mind...

...but today Frank wouldn’t be back for a few more hours, and so you decide to take advantage of the quiet, empty apartment. Some days you’d wait, nerves strung and foot bouncing until he’s within arms reach and ready to chase all your shit away, but not today.

Today was rough, and you need something now. 

The dildo isn’t new by any means, but you’ve found very little use of it since Frank had taken up a more permanent spot in your life. It’s exactly where you left it, and soon your pants are abandoned on the floor beside your bed. 

You don’t bother undressing fully, you don’t even bother getting in the damn sheets. Your too impatient, too pissed off, too tense. It takes only seconds until your legs are spread, and you're spitting onto your fingers, smoothing them along the ridges along the toy and running the blunt tip of it through your folds and along your slit.

It's slides into your pussy with a bit of resistance, having not prepared yourself or the toy properly, but you see it through, and with a few smooth strokes, you feel your body start to warm to it, you feel the toy start to glide easier the more it moves within you and your hips start to meet the rhythm of your hand.

You picture Frank and how he looks moving above you, how he feels pressing you firmly into the mattress as his strong hands keep your thighs spread. You imagine the low gravel of his voice melting in your ear, telling you how good you feel, how good you're taking it and how crazy you drive him—

He's the last thing you expect to see when your eyes flutter open from a particularly deep hit of the toy, thick arms crossed over his chest and broad body braced comfortably up against the doorframe.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” You pant softly, not in the right mind to even feel the slightest bit embarrassed at getting caught in such a way.

“Long enough to enjoy the show,” he returns, a tug of a smirk pulling at one side of his lips, “you had a rough day, sweetheart?”

“Mm, you gonna get over here and help me, or just stand there?”

“Didn’t think you needed my help,” he rumbles, his grin briefly widening, “but I can’t say no to that.”

He steps into the room quietly, shrugging his jacket off while he does so before sinking a knee into the mattress and smoothing rough hands down your thighs. You go to remove the toy but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand pressing against yours and soon taking it over, pushing the dildo back deeper into your cunt until you’re whining softly from the pressure of it. 

“Let’s leave it in, pretty girl,” he mutters hoarsely, sinking onto his front and letting his tongue run along his lower lip as he drags the thick length of silicone back and forth, watching the way your slick pussy spreads and swallows the toy.

He’s entranced. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, his eyes often unable to help but fall and study the way his own cock splits you open and takes you apart whenever he gets the opportunity, but it feels different here. It’s not his cock, but he’s the one controlling the toy—the speed, the depth…

The way your cunt parts for it, the way the silicone glistens with your creamy arousal when he brings the length out to where only the tip remains probing at your entrance… Jesus. He’s got a goddamn close up of the whole thing, and it’s got him feeling damn near pathetic as he fights to grind into the sheets to sate the borderline agonising throb of his hard cock pressing up against his jeans. 

“God, look at you. You look so damn good baby, you’re takin’ it so well.”

You feel your chest heave at the praise, a slight pinch of impatience working it’s way between your brows at the slow pace he seems content using, “Frank—”

“Shh,” he soothes, pressing wet kisses along the inside of your thigh and feeling the jump of muscle under his lips, “you gonna let me have my turn, alright? Let me have my turn, and I’ll make it all better.”

His words melt against your core with a wash of hot air, and it takes everything in you to not buck your hips up in anticipation. Thankfully you don’t have to wait long. Lips soon press against your aching clit in a light kiss, before his thick tongue begins to roll firmly against the swollen nerve, languidly dragging up and down at the same pace he thrusts the toy in and out of you.

It’s fucking maddening. It’s perfect. 

He takes his time working you up, alternating between working his tongue over your clit in practised, methodical strokes that have your thighs tensing and toes curling, to sucking it softly into his mouth until the walls of your pussy flutter and clench around the hard, unforgiving surface of the dildo he keeps you full with.

It’s not long until you feel that flood of heat start to spread out along your limbs from your core, the familiar churning and tightening of a climax hanging just out of reach until your thighs start to tremble beside his head. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, curling tightly around the shortened strands in an effort to ground yourself as you begin to feel the end approaching.

He groans deeply against you, spurred on by the brief flash of pain along his scalp, and the vibration of his mouth against you as it works away is enough to push you that last little needed distance until you’re off the edge completely.

You fall with a sharp cry, bucking weakly against his mouth from the assault of blissful double stimulation through your orgasm and unintentionally fucking yourself deeper onto the dildo, dragging out your orgasm and milking it for all its worth.

Stars dance along your vision as you come down from your high, and your body practically melts into the mattress beneath you when he finally lets up and breaks away from your clit with a wet smack of lips, still keeping the toy buried to its hilt in your cunt. 

“I’m wonderin’…” he murmurs, his voice barely breaking through the thick haze drowning your mind, “you think you could take me as well, sweetheart?”

[ryttu3k]

Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction recs

Ongoing list of Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction recs. Sorted into oneshots, complete multi-chapters, and in-process multi-chapters, otherwise listed alphabetically. Italicised titles are absolute favourites.

Mostly Astarion-centric because the brainrot is real.

This is not including the approximately three dozen fics I have bookmarked to read later god help me.

Oneshots

A Helping Hand by rjestudioarts. Astarion/Halsin, 2.2k. Astarion goes to Measures to do something for his lover.

a social forced choice question and answer game by unsungillumination. Tadpolycule, 1.5k. The gang play FMK.

ascendant, alone by atomjenkins. Astarion-centric, 3.3k. Astarion begins his new life as the Vampire Ascendant.

anything? choose to live by alwaysyourqueen. Astarion-centric (minor Astarion/Wyll), 4.7k. Astarion sees a familiar face amidst the newly-freed spawn.

Best Unspoken by Asidian. Wyll/Astarion, 4.8k. Wyll learns, through painful lessons, about minding his tongue.

caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide. Astarion-centric, 18.9k. Astarion is dosed with klauthgrass; he and his companions deal with the consequences.

chaos construct by birthright. Astarion/Dark Urge, 4.9k. Astarion offers the Dark Urge his devotion.

Come Hell or High Water by Udaberri. Astarion/Karlach/Wyll, 606 words. Karlach returns to Avernus, but this time, she's not alone.

Dagger to the Heart by trashmaven. Developing Gale/Astarion, 1.3k. Astarion finds an interesting book in Gale's tent.

Deadwinter Warmth by Asidian. Astarion/Karlach/Wyll, 4k. A few times Astarion is kept warm.

Did I Think That Out Loud? by SomeoneNamedGem. Mildly tadpolycule, 3.4k. The tadfools versus thought-sharing brainworms.

fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty by solistrix. Aurelia and her siblings, 6.8k. Aurelia reflects on being the eldest sibling.

Fool Me Once by cyranonic. Karlach, Gortash, and Astarion, 6.9k. Karlach and her history with Gortash.

Five times Wyll spill the jug (and the one time Astarion does) by Yinello. Astarion/Wyll, 2.3k. Astarion vs Wyll's puns.

folie a deux by binder. Astarion/Gale, 8.3k. Astarion, a college student, starts having some peculiar dreams.

Four Sonnets and a Death Threat by HigharollaKockamamie. Gale-centric, 1.3k. Gale writes poetry.

Friendly Fire by Asidian. Karlach/Astarion, 5k. Astarion gets into a spot of trouble, Karlach comes to his aid.

Hedonism by ushuaz. Wyll/Karlach/Astarion, 4.1k. Astarion sort of stumbles into a relationship with Wyll and Karlach, and decides to teach Wyll hedonism.

Howl by menzoberranyr. Shadowheart-centric, 2.4k. Werewolf Shadowheart agenda lives!

if we put our worms together by corviiid. Gen, 1.9k. Short collection of modern AU microfics.

It's the Thought that Counts by Sephiius. Omeluum/Blurg, 3k. Omeluum attempts to make breakfast for Blurg, with 'attempts' being the keyword.

jackrabbit by tomorrowsrain. Astarion-centric, 15.6k. Astarion slowly develops a friendship with the others.

Jergal's Guide to Surviving a Mindflayer Invasion (And All of the Tadpole Sex That Comes With It) by falco_c. So many, 1.8k. Withers sees All (and lowkey wishes he didn't).

Just a Touch Pathetic by patster223. Gale/Astarion, 4.6k. Modern AU, explicit. "Or, two men try to bully each other into having self-esteem and then have sex about it."

Laborious Love by BhaalsDeep. Karlach/Astarion, 6.9k. Astarion makes a gift for Karlach.

Let's pray to the stars (for another chance) by Astralia. Astarion/Gale, 12.4k. Gale, born 170 years earlier than in canon, visits Baldur's Gate, and is seduced by a pale elf.

Like A River Flows by smallhorizons. Wyll/Astarion, 4.3k. On the eve of their departure for Baldur's Gate, Wyll considers his past and Astarion attempts sincerity.

Loopholes by starkraving. Wyll/Astarion, 5.3k. Astarion tries to work out the details of Wyll's pact. It backfires somewhat.

Melted Snow by Asidian. Karlach/Astarion, 3.3k. Cuddling for warmth!

noble pursuits by arcanefoxx. Astarion/Gale, 3.3k. Gale ascends. Astarion does not.

no one will love me like you again by FlowerCitti. Karlach/Astarion, 2.6k. Karlach regains the ability to touch.

Repairs by Asidian. Karlach/Astarion, 1.4k. Karlach approaches Astarion in his tent.

restless all night by hermitized. Karlach and Gale, 2.2k. Karlach and Gale commiserate over their fates.

Say you, say you, say you love me by God_I_Love_Butter. Gale/Astarion, 4.1k. Gale uses a Wish spell.

Seven Minutes in Avernus by cyranonic. Astarion and Karlach, 3.5k. Astarion and Karlach get trapped together.

Soak It In by shinymailbox. Karlach/Astarion, 3.8k. With time running out, Karlach and Astarion go for a swim.

Some Culinary Advice by Asidian. Astarion and Gale, 1.8k. Astarion attempts to cook.

surprise, surprise by foxflowering. Wyll/Astarion, 3.7k, explicit. Wyll has a surprise. Two of them, actually. Also some beautiful character study for them both, but yes, two... surprises.

Taters by OrangeChickenPillow. Karlach-centric, 1.6k. Karlach finds new speakers for her language.

temporal displacement by PurpleCatGhost. Wyll/Astarion, 4.8k. 20-year-old Wyll Ravengard meets a stranger who definitely seems to know him.

That old honey and vinegar by wearethewitches. Isobel and Thisobald, 1.4k. Isobel summons her brother for a first and last talk.

The Dead Shot by anonymous. Gale/Astarion, 2.1k. Modern AU. Astarion discovers new advances in photography.

Trial by Fire by monsterkiss. Karlach/Lae'zel, 3.7k. Lae'zel has… some fascinating flirtation techniques.

Uncrossed Lines by Asidian. Astarion-centric (with Wyll, Halsin, and Karlach), 1.9k. Astarion's friends defend his boundaries.

Upon Reflection by ellnick. Astarion/Gale, 2.7k. Astarion makes Gale have some realisations about his past relationship with Mystra.

We Happy Few by geometea. Wyll/Astarion, 30.1k. Fifteen years ago, Wyll saved the world, and all it cost him was his soul. Fourteen and a half years ago, Astarion disappeared.

well received by howeverlong. Astarion and Scratch, 1.3k. Astarion is Befriended(tm).

Multi-chapters and series

And All I Get Is The Gift Of Growing Old by Hatigave. God!Gale/Ascended!Astarion, 14.4k, explicit. Astarion and Gale are tremendously bad for each other.

Attrition by theneonpineapple. Wyll/Astarion, 62.9k. Prince Astarion of Larian vows to use his arranged marriage to Prince Wyll of Ultania to find a cure for the vampirism he's been cursed with.

burning bright by floralprintshark. Wyll/Karlach/Astarion, 9.9k. Technically an ongoing series, but all the individual parts are complete oneshots. Wyll, Karlach, and Astarion work out assorted aspects of their developing relationship.

Hells Escape Pact by ushauz. Wyll/Karlach/Astarion, 17.6k. Wyll is a devil, Karlach has been in hell for thirteen years, and Astarion was sacrificed. They meet in Avernus and decide it's time to get out of Avernus, tyvm.

how to escape the torment nexus by ushauz. Astarion/Wyll, 33.2k. Not many of the party survive the Netherbrain. Astarion does, and decides Wyll will be another.

love what is mortal by weatheredlaw. Halsin/Astarion, 36.6k, explicit (but not a main focus). Astarion decides it's time for a family reunion.

Monster Support Group by ushauz. Astarion/Wyll, Shadowheart/Karlach, 57.1k. No tadpoles, but they come together nonetheless.

Old Breaks by Asidian. Halsin/Astarion, 8k. Astarion has chronic pain from Cazador's tortures, Halsin looks after him.

Sharing by Asidian. Tadpolycule, 6k. Everyone is a polycule; people communicate.

The Baldur's Gate ABCs by improbable_archivy. Gen, 2.9k. A spectacular collection of poems!

The Cure by BlackwaterVial. Astarion/Raphael, 48.7k. Raphael ends up on the receiving end of a clumsy seduction by a newly-turned spawn and decides, hmm, he can do something with this.

What Drifts on the Air by Letterblade. Tadpolycule (and Halsin), 41.1k, explicit. "*slaps roof of orgy* this baby can fit so many feelings in it!"

Who's the goose that's on the loose? by JustPoro. Mild Astarion/Tav, 8.8k. Is that your sandwich? Not any more.

Multi-chapters - in process

Perceived Impressions by Acinonyx1. Halsin/Astarion, currently 38.3k, 15/17 chapters posted. Astarion is captured by the goblins, and thrown in the cage of a surprisingly non-hostile bear.

Seen by ayvaines. Gale/Astarion, Cazador/Astarion, currently 118.2k, 34/70 chapters posted. Astarion joins his fiance Cazador's Dungeons & Dragons game, and finds something in the game's charming DM, Gale. (Content warning: may be triggering for those in/who have been in abusive relationships.)

snare by parsnipit. Astarion/Halsin, eventual Astarion/Halsin/Dark Urge, currently 48.9k, 11 chapters posted. Fresh from helping save the world, Halsin makes a discovery in the depths of the Czarr Palace.

Something Lonesome and Wild by passing_lives. Astarion/Gale, currently 100.8k, 18/30 chapters posted. Cazador's ritual requires his spawn to have spawn. Astarion is captured by the mind flayers with one in tow.

Tale of the Star by AndyAO3. Astarion/OC, Gale/OC, Halsin/OC, lots of other relationships going on. Currently 253k. Multi-part series, with two complete acts and act 3 in process.

The Season by Linnetagain. Gale/Astarion, currently 222.9k, 18 chapters posted. Dancing On Ice AU, where Astarion is an ex-Olympian figure skater and Gale is a famous musician.

The Smallest Changes Have The Largest Ripples by Hyrulehearts1123. Dark Urge and Jaheira, Dark Urge/Astarion, currently 26.7k. Multi-part series, all individual parts complete so far. Jaheira adopts a strange child.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder / In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi, seeing that you are doing yizhan requests now. Can I get some recs for first similar to 心动 | Heartbeat by panda_desu. @akweenbitch​

~*~

2. Hiiii ❤️❤️ I would LOVE Meet-Cute fics for Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan! Famous, Non-famous, only one famous, Any and All! Please give me some ❣️

The Boy Next Door by Ilikecola ( E, 108K, WIP, YiZhan, Neighbors, Non-Famous, WYB is 18, XZ is 25, Blond WYB, Bratty WYB, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, ZSWW - Bottom WYB/Top XZ, Virgin WYB, Explicit Sexual Content, Protective XZ Getting Together, Graphic Designer XZ, Dancer WYB, Age Difference, Light Angst, Assault, Panic Attacks)

let's not try to figure out everything at once by corianderbunnies (E, 310k, WIP, YiZhan, Doctor XZ, Idol WYB, Famous/Non-Famous, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Switch YiZhan, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Praise Kink, Hurt/Comfort) it's locked so you need a login

Making my loneliness small by becka (E, 16k, YiZhan, RPF, au, non-famos XZ, sheep, sexual tension, first time, ambiguous/open ending, pining)

Fixtures and Fittings by ella_minnow (E, 42k, YiZhan, RPF, au, Interior Designer XZ, Motorcyclist WYB, Pining, Famous/Not-Famous, Slowest Burn)

The Scent of Happiness by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 48k, YiZhan, RPF, au, soft baker XZ, famous WYB)

Victorian AU series by mrsronweasley, vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 69k, YiZhan, RPF, victorian au, yearning, boning, reunion feels, reunion sex)

Cut to the Feeling by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, YiZhan, RPF, au, famous XZ, non-famous WYB, soft boys)

Pretty Dead by Verona95 (M, 252k, YiZhan, RPF, au, Strangers to Lovers, Police, Detectives, Crime Scenes, Investigations, Age Difference, Dark, Angst w Happy Ending, Fluff, Smut, Murder Mystery, Murder, Bottom WYB, Top XZ, Top WYB, Bottom XZ, Small Towns, Bratty WYB, Slow Burn)

Stripped by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 16k, YiZhan, RPF, college/university au)

you can take my heart series by ThirtySixSaveFiles (E, 68k, YiZhan, RPF, space au, Androids, Android WYB, Mechanic XZ, Alcohol, Peril, Sex Pollen, Illness, Pining, Semi-Explicit Mechanical Repairs)

a bar at the folies-bergère by belle_abroad (E, 9k, YiZhan, RPF, historical au, Famous XZ, Non-Famous WYB, Artists au, Dance au, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Angst w Happy Ending)

Xiao Zhan’s (Unplanned) Movie Date by Anonymous (Not Rated, 3k, YiZhan, accidental date, movie date, Graphic Designer XZ, Motorcyclist WYB, Dance Instructor WYB, Different First Meeting, Fluff, Unplanned Date)

Xiao Zhan’s Graphic Design Playbook by augmenti (M, 12k, YiZhan, Xiao Zhan stays an artist au)

~*~

3. Can you find recs that is similar to "Switched" by shorimochi? Where Lan Zhan went in the world of YiZhan and became like a relative to wang Yibo.... @myst1210

Once In A Lifetime by Anonymous (T, 28k, WangXian, Transmigrator LWJ, Attempt at Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Crack, Crack treated half seriously, Developing Friendships, Dimension Travel, Happy Ending) does this count? I haven't read it but the summary sounds similar?

you, in every world series by Deinde (G, 53k, YiZhan, wangxian, transmigration, dimension travel, pining, getting back together, bunnies, weddings, inseurity)

The Tamed by Escheria (T, 378k, wangxian, XZ/LWJ, WYB/WWX, YiZhan, YLLZ WWX, Overpowered WWX, XZ = WWX, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Isekai, Demonic Cultivation, Genius WWX, WIP) similar, its xiao zhan who went in mdzs so its kinda xiao zhan (in the body of wwx)  x lan wangji

~*~

[juletheghoul]

A Weekend Away

AN: Real talk, the idea for this came to me in a dream. I have reached Stephanie Meyers levels of fandom lmao. None of you should be surprised that this is an au, this Dave never went down the path of The Equalizer, instead he made a decision that made him filthy rich. We're talking big wealth here so I hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent, soft, rich, devoted husband and father. Quick thanks to my girl @wheresarizona for beta-ing this and for the gorgeous moodboard / header, as well as @foli-vora, thank you both for generally being supportive and amazing. Hope you enjoy xox. (I might turn this into a 3 part series depending on the response.)

Pairing; Dave York x f!reader

Warnings;  daddy kink 🤡 piv sex (wrap it up), squirting, swearing, dirty talk, oral (f-receiving), let me know if I missed anything. (Should be completed blank-slate female reader, but if there is anything I missed - please let me know!)

Word count; 3K

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

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

His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet in your shared bedroom, a clearing of his throat announcing his presence before his hands rest on your hips. His lips quickly descend to adorn your shoulders with kisses. 

“We’re taking off soon, baby. Is everything good to go?” Your last few words come out almost as a sigh - his lips have traveled from your shoulders to your neck and now to your ear, where he takes it between his teeth. He hums in the back of his throat in acknowledgment before he answers. 

“I’m sure everything is going smoothly. Let's sneak in a quickie before we leave, hm?” His voice is mischievous, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “Put that down - the housekeeper can pack for us.” His hand wraps around your middle and travels up, holding the weight of your breast in his hand and before you can say anything he’s turning you, spinning you in his hold to devour your mouth with his. 

Whatever argument you had in your head, whatever garment you had in your hand drops to the floor by his hunger for you, and then you’re falling, or rather being placed onto your back on your plush bed, and he's surrounding you. Your dress is up around your hips, and he's slotting his in their rightful place - his tongue is thick in your mouth, and you aren’t kissing, you’re being kissed. 

“I need you, baby.” He’s pulling down the straps of your dress with an urgency that makes you melt. His frown at the flesh on display for him has you pulling your swollen lower lip between your teeth, and it almost makes you light-headed how he can still make you this desperate this quickly. Your nipple is in his mouth, and your fingers curl into the short crop of his hair, the pained moan that escapes around the bud is almost lewd, but then the door to your room swings open, and she toddles in - your baby girl. 

“Is that my princess?” He lifts his head away from your saliva-slicked nipple to smile at her. She lifts her arms to him, and he lets out a resigned sigh - no quickie right now. “You, my lovely—” He speaks to her with a smile in his voice and in his heart, “Have impeccable timing.” He kisses her full cheeks, one then the other, over and over until she laughs. 

You lay in the bed, watching them as you right yourself, unable to be too disappointed when you see him like this - his face lit up with her laughs, her chubby little hands on his face in hopes of delaying a tickle attack. 

“I’ll finish packing up here. Why don’t you go check in on everything downstairs? Make sure the dogs are packed and see if Nana needs anything for the girls?” You stand up, fixing your skirts before reaching down to pick up the cardigan you’d dropped. 

“Fine,” he sighs, the baby laying her head on his shoulder, and he can't help but kiss her halo of hair. “Let's go check the hounds, princess. Mommy said so.” He gives you a quick peck before they’re both out of the room, and with him gone, you can focus on packing for the weekend. 

You look over what you’d already grabbed while trying to catch your breath, ignoring the way your underwear sticks to your skin, and with a shake of your head, you’re running through what you remember of your schedule for the next few days. 

Alma walks in as you’re coming out of your airy walk-in closet, one of David’s more casual suits in hand. 

“Let me do that.” She reaches for the garment bag in your hands, tutting at your momentary refusal. “The girls are packed and ready, the dogs are waiting in the mudroom, and we’re good to leave. Let me help you.” She took no nonsense, and you loved her for it. She’d been in your life since you met David; she’d been in his since childhood, and now she helped watch your girls. 

“Alma, this is a weekend away for you as much as it is for us. I don’t want you working, is Richard packed and ready?” Her husband was going to be joining you at your country house, a weekend of doing nothing but enjoying each other's company.

“Yes, he’s downstairs with David. They’re talking about sports or something, who knows.” She waved away your words and started packing things into the open suitcase. “The rest of the staff have already left to get the house ready. After this, we’ll be ready to leave.” She was the sweetest woman you’d ever met; it was obvious why David considered her a second mother. 

“Yes, I just need one more thing, something for date night tomorrow.” You spoke over your shoulder, a brisk walk back into the closet to grab something to wear. 

“That sounds great - Richard and I will watch the girls.” She called back, an amused sigh at her refusal to take a break. 

“You don’t need to!” You called back as your hands carded through the array of dresses that hung before you. David had well and truly spoiled you, and there were absolute confections hanging here, much too formal for a simple date with your husband. You settled on a slinky black number he’d yet to see you in. 

“Alma, I have told you, and so has David – this weekend is for rest. You do not have to watch the girls.” You spoke as she helped put your dress into its own garment bag. Once again waving away your concerns. 

“They aren’t work for me – they feel like family.” She zipped up the suitcase before turning to you. 

“They are. We are your family.” You pulled the heavy suitcase off the bed, smiling at her and meaning every word. 

-

His hand was gripping your thigh, his thumb making a steady pass over the skin in range, raising goosebumps in its wake. He smiles to himself, his other hand curled around the steering wheel, and he knows exactly what a tease he's being. You ignore it. 

“Daddy, are we almost there?” Charlotte calls from the backseat of the SUV, her little voice cutting through your tension. 

“Yes, baby, we’re almost there, just under an hour, I’d say.” He answers her, his kind eyes looking at her through the rearview. 

“Is Nana gonna be there?” She’s playing with a new doll, one he just bought her.

“Yes, baby, Nana is coming.” She smiles at his response. Evie was quiet in her seat beside her sister, her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. “Evie, honey, you okay?” His hand moved from your thigh, reaching behind to tug on her little foot. 

“She’s tired. Missed her nap today.” You turned to smile at her, her big brown eyes – her father’s eyes watching you both.

“Aw, well, at least you’ll sleep tonight.” He focused on the road. “Did you think of where you wanted to go for dinner tomorrow night, honey?” He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. 

“I didn’t. I’m happy to go anywhere.” You brought his hand back into your lap. “I packed you a nice suit.” He smiled. 

“I made a reservation in case you didn’t find a place. Supposed to be a nice place – hope you packed yourself a dress.” His hand gripped your thigh again. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” You meant it. He was. He was a wonderful husband and a loving, doting father. And if the way they treated you whenever you stopped by the office was anything to go by, he was a well-liked and respected business owner and boss. 

Before you knew it, he was pulling into the long driveway into your summer house. Every time you saw it, you thought about how your marriage had started, how you’d both lived out of a tiny studio apartment while you both worked and worked. He’d come back from his days in the military with a few scars and ideas of starting his own security company. 

Years later, you were all reaping the benefits of his discipline, of the hard work, and the lucky breaks he’d gotten. One government contract led to another, and soon his security company was the country's most used and most successful. 

“Okay, my lovely ladies, we’re here.” He parked in the gravel, a big smile on his face as one of the staff came out to take your bags and his. “Thank you, Jeffrey. In the room is fine and don’t worry about us this weekend. No hard work, okay?” He clapped the other man on the back before opening the backseat, where Charlie held her arms up. You were both holding onto your children when the dogs came bounding over. It was going to be a great weekend. 

-

The food was served at dusk on the patio, the large table set with a simple but delicious meal. Everyone ate together, you, David and the girls, Alma and Richard, along with the chef and the housekeeper, the driver as well. Everyone was welcome at your table, and they all knew it. There were no awkward smiles, no tentative words – the table was filled with laughter and conversation. The girls were passed from you to David to Alma when they weren’t chasing after the dogs. 

“Alma, stop – sit down.” He rose to stop her from chasing after Evie. “Here, have some more wine. I got the one you like. Relax, enjoy,” he said it with a smile, and she reluctantly sat with a slap to his arm. Richard smiled, pulling her in to place a kiss on her temple while the girls enjoyed the fresh air. 

Once the plates were cleared, most of the household had gone to bed, and the four of you were sitting in the cozy living room enjoying the peace and quiet of the countryside. He had a book in his hands that he was reading with Charlie while you rocked Evie in your arms. Pretty soon, though, she was asleep.

“I’m going to put her to bed.” You got up slowly, cradling her head against your chest. “Bath time will have to wait until tomorrow.” Charlie was yawning as you walked past.

“Come on, Charlie, it’s bedtime.” He closed the book, following you up the stairs, him going into Charlie’s room while you went into Evies. 

By the time he’d finished with Charlie, you were getting out of the shower, laughing at his pout at not having waited for him.

“Go get clean, and then maybe we can finish what you started before we left.” You slid your hand down his stomach, relishing the groan he let out when you palmed the bulge of his crotch. “Go on, get clean for me, daddy.” You smacked his ass before moving towards the bed. You didn’t make it far before he pulled you back, both his hands cradling your face as he licked into your mouth. 

“Don’t bother getting dressed. Daddy wants you just like this.” He pulled the towel away, sending you to the bed naked, his palm landing a heavy crack to the meat of your ass. 

Your skin crackles with excitement as you wait for him, nestled in the crisp, clean sheets. The sound of the water running ramps up the arousal, a deep anticipation filling every inch of you for the way his cock would soon fill you - for the way he’d surround you, the way his goal always seemed to be to consume whenever he fucked you.

Your heart skipped a beat when the water shut off, kicking the sheets off so he’d find you just how he wanted you. 

He came out still dripping, his cock bobbing.

“You ready for me?” Cool water droplets fall from his hair onto your skin as he crawls up from the foot of your bed, a kiss dropped onto your shin, then your knee, your inner thigh before he’s spreading your legs open with the breadth of his shoulders. 

“I’m always ready for you.” You reach down, threading through his damp hair, your heartbeat pulsing in your cunt at the way his eyes rake over your pussy, all glossy and ready for him.

“I know, baby.” His molten mouth descends, pressing kisses to your mound before he curls his fingers around the tops of your thighs, pulling you towards him hard enough to pull a gasp from your mouth. “Spread your pretty little pussy open for daddy. I wanna hold you close to my face.” He bites at the meat of your thigh as you bite the plush of your lower lip, complying with an almost delirious ecstasy. 

The hand not threaded through his hair snakes down and does as he asks, spreading open the lips of your sex for his mouth. He groans, staring at the ripe berry of your clit. 

“That’s my good girl. Keep it nice and open for me.” He dives in, his tongue honing in just where you want it most, and it’s like your whole body is wired with a current only he produces, an electricity that lights up every inch of you with pure want. 

Your belly trembles as his tongue strokes at the very heart of you, ramping up higher and higher as he presses himself closer, his mouth surrounding your clit in a steady suck. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream - your eyes almost unfocused at the way he moans obscenely into your skin. 

It’s too quick, the way stars burst behind your eyes and at the center of your being, and through the haze of euphoria, you hear him laugh. 

“Already?” He places an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, a rumble in the back of his throat at the way your legs try to close around him. “Just a few licks and you’re getting me all wet?” He smiles, his tongue cruel and sweet all at once. 

“Fuck me already, David,” You push his hair back slightly, separating his face from your cunt, and his smile widens. “I want it.”

“What do you want? Tell me.” He kisses your thigh before kneeling between your legs. Your mouth almost waters at the sight of his cock, the tip sticky with his own arousal. 

“I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me scream.” You all but moan the words, sitting up slightly to rest on your elbows. He reaches for a couple of cushions and taps your hip. When you lift them, he positions them under, elevating you at the perfect angle. 

“Perfect, don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He gets into position, the tops of his thighs pressed up tight against the backs of yours, and he lifts your legs up, so your calves press against his chest, your feet up by his shoulders. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He slides the fat head of his cock through your folds, soaking himself in you. “Bet I’m gonna just glide right in aren't I?” 

He notches himself, sliding in right to the hilt without resistance, a shared moan filling the air. 

“So fucking wet, you always feel so fucking good, baby.” He watches himself disappear into the clutch of your cunt, relishing the way he shines in your arousal. 

You can do nothing but pant at the way he’s hitting something sacred, something white-hot that blanks your brain every time he pushes against it. 

His hand shifts to your belly, and he presses down. Your brain short circuits, and you cry out almost involuntarily.

“There it is. That’s the spot, huh?” He speeds up, battering against the cosmos in your pussy. “You wanted to scream, so scream for daddy.” He’s railing now, focusing his energy on hitting the bullseye he knows he’s found, and the pressure is building - something that feels too good to breathe is creeping in, flooding your veins, your hands coming up and pressing against his chest. “Come on, goddamn it, give it to me.”  

His eyes are black with lust as your pussy leaks with the arousal he is ripping from you, and then it happens, a wet gush around where he keeps up his assault. A scream rips from your throat, and he laughs triumphantly. 

“There it fucking is, one more - I want you to do it again.”

Your brain is mush, and he’s soaked, but his thrusts don’t let up. He presses against your belly harder - his hips snapping quicker and quicker, and this time it happens faster. He doesn’t let your body curl in on itself like it wants to; instead, he spreads your legs, slotting his hips between them to kiss you as he chases his own high. One of his hands a reassuring press against your throat while the other palms your breast.

A handful of thrusts is all it takes for him to slow to a grind, coming with a deep groan, the pressure of it against your clit triggers a feather-soft orgasm as he fucks his come as deep as he can.

He collapses on top of you, breathing hard against your neck. Your brain floats in a haze of bliss as you both catch your breath. Your hands raise almost on their own to run along the smooth skin of his back, soothing yourself as much as soothing him.

“I love you, baby.” He lifts his head and presses a kiss to your mouth, sealing his words with it.

“I love you, too.” You run your fingers through his damp hair, pulling him tight against you for a few moments, enjoying the comforting weight of him for a little while longer.

Eventually, you both rise, and together you quickly change the sheets, giddy with laughter, and when you finish, he pulls you close. Whispers his words of devotion in the quiet darkness of your home, the both of you falling asleep-tangled in one another.

-

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @just-here-for-the-moment @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @mandosmistress @deadhumourist @felicisimor @tuskens-mando @no-droids-on-sunday @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @maievdenoir @kissasith @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @lorosette @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @allthatsleftbehind @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @planetariumx @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @swtaura @evelynseventyr @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @ichigodjarin @oliviajdjarin @actuallyanita

[jaeger-soul]

Hiiii Jaeger!! I'm a longtime reader of Stay and I love trying out other fic writers writing routines. Do you have a routine you wouldn't mind sharing? :3

hey there! thanks so much for reading Stay, it means a lot that this story still means something to other people <3

as far as a writing "routine" goes, honestly i write whenever I have the chance so it fluctuates every day?

this morning, I got up early and I've written maybe 200 words so far? But sometimes I'll get up early and bang out 3k on one go, it kind of depends. usually the only consistent thing with my routine is coffee -- always gotta have coffee if i'm writing

other than that, if i'm struggling with a particular scene or chapter, i do have this trick i've kind of pavlov'd myself into where i play fall out boy albums from my iTunes library (specifically starting from Alpha Dog on Believers Never Die and letting it run through Evening Out With Your Girlfriend, Folie à Deux, From Under The Cork Tree and continuing on for as long as I'm writing. Usually by the middle or end of Infinity On High, I'm taking a break from writing)

but yeah, i'm not necessarily a routine person cause i write whenever i feel like it/have the time. but coffee always, music always, and scrivener always. that's pretty much the only "routine" i really use

thanks for the question! if you have more questions about my writing process, please feel free to send another along! sorry i can't give you much of a routine to try out lol, I hope you still enjoy it!

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (5 Sep-11 Sep 2021)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😍 From This Day On (BrighteyedJill, hobbitdragon) - 43K, The Witcher: Eskel/Geralt - lots of good, chewy emotions - I think most of the Witcher fics I have read are more on the tv show side of Geralt so this was a different characterization (to me) since I don’t consume any of the source materials. I quite liked it.

😍 Til The End Of Time (fandomfluffandfuck) - 66K, Stucky; 1 Steve, 2 Buckys - 🔥💦🔥💦

😍 Mixing It Up - 40K, Zimbits - baker!Bitty AU - never tired of baker!Bitty/NHL’er Jack AUs. Give me all of them. 

😍 Blue Scales (chaya) - 52K, mer!Steve AU - labelled 'crack treated seriously' and it's seriously good - loved the worldbuilding details and the 'everyone-lives-in-the-tower (and-raises-merbabies)' found family vibe - *chef's kiss* 

plus 120K of shorter fic so shorter work shout out:

The Way To A Man's Heart (HaniTrash, art by kocuria-visuals (kocuria)) - MCU: shrinkyclinks, 11K - absolutely delighted that someone has written the fic where pre-serum Steve is basically Dylan Hollis. adored this.

You Like What's in My Head (dontcallmebree, art by kocuria-visuals (kocuria)) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 15K - 100% always here for the ‘Accidental Sugar Baby Acquisition’ tag

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered (mardia) - Ted Lasso (TV): Trent/Ted, 22K - really thought that a kind of dwell and welcome was gonna be a one-off fic in this pairing for me but here we are again because these writers just keep delivering the absolute fucking BEST. [side note: my headcanon ted lasso is not really a cat guy but i absolutely accepted it for fic reasons]

Folie à quatre (Ark) - Les Mis: Enjoltaire & MCU: Stucky, 3K - a lovely little fic that points up the similarities in these pairings. My fave line: “[Grantaire] winks at Bucky. Then he gets up to shake Steve Rogers’ hand, which is an experience. Steve has an iron grip and a dazzling smile, and the sort of blue, blue eyes that say trust me, I’m here to save your life. It’s hard not to fall right into those fathomless depths. Grantaire feels great sympathy for Bucky Barnes. He only has to handle Enjolras and his gaze that reads trust me, I’m here to blow everything up.” 😂😂😂

AND ALSO THESE ESSAYS/ARTICLES I REALLY LIKED

NPR’s Linda Holmes’ Ted Lasso recaps - astute observations, excellent writing

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Ted Lasso - s1, e2-6 -- successfully got my dad & bonusmom hooked on TL, so go me.

Star Trek: Discovery - s1, e1-4

Wicked In Concert - this was all entertaining but Amber Riley was 100% the standout here

Off-Script with Sohla - How to Make Any Kind of Pound Cake

New British Canon - Before Riot Grrrl: X-Ray Spex & "Oh Bondage Up Yours!"

Ted Lasso - s2, e8 [3x]

Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy - s1, e1

Hacks - s1, e1

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

This is Good for You - Ep 15: Running Is Good For You

Big Gay Fiction Podcast - High Seas Adventure with Author C.B. Lee

Pop Culture Sociologist - The Best Queer Pairing You'll Never Watch: Root/Shaw on Person of Interest

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Arecibo Observatory

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Milo Bitters

Ologies with Alie Ward - Maritime Archaeology (SHIPWRECKS) with Chanelle Zaphiropoulos

Films To Be Buried With with Brett Goldstein - Hannah Waddingham

Strong Songs - "Mr. Blue Sky" by Electric Light Orchestra

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Atlas Obscura 101

Twenty Thousand Hertz - The Wilhelm Scream

Pop Culture Boner - Fixing Fandoms ft. Ngozi Ukazu

Pop Culture Sociologist - Is there a right way to write a matriarchy?

99% Invisible - 457- Model Organism

Ologies with Alie Ward - Eudemonology (HAPPINESS) with Laurie Santos

Song Exploder - Mustafa "Air Forces"

Strong Songs - Clave, Chorus & "Careless Whisper"

Twenty Thousand Hertz - Sonic Bubbles

Films To Be Buried With with Brett Goldstein - Toheeb Jimoh

Twenty Thousand Hertz - ASMR

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Million Dollar Point

Strong Songs - "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen

Twenty Thousand Hertz - Spooky Sounds

Films To Be Buried With with Brett Goldstein - Nick Mohammed

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - World’s Loneliest Tree

Films To Be Buried With with Brett Goldstein - Brendan Hunt

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Big Bertha Drum

Twenty Thousand Hertz - The Windsor Hum

Ologies with Alie Ward - Oceanology (THE OCEAN) with Ayana Johnson: Encore Presentation

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Magical Summer Memories Vol. 1

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Instrumental Soul Grooves

The Wrecking Crew

Easy Street, Fat City

Classical Focus

My Supermix

Reggae Runners

Throwback Workout

Eric Bittle's Pregame Playlist

[trippingeyes]

(coffees for closers) // fall out boy

[ghostbustermelanieking]

X-Files Rewatch Series Masterpost

summary: Series of (mostly) unconnected stories I write as I make my way through the show again. All can be read independently, but the canon complaint stories are slightly connected. 

canon compliant stories

oregon rain (msr ust, pilot, awkward bonding, wc: 3k)

March 8, 1993, a conversation in a hotel room.

the progression (and regression) of first names (msr ust, scully-centered, s1, beyond the sea, lazarus, young at heart, darkness falls, tooms wc: 5k)

Dana and Scully, she thinks, are two separate people, and he only knows the Scully part of her. She doesn’t know which part she likes better, but she likes it when he calls her Scully.

drifting (msr-ust, maggie scully, melissa scully, one breath post ep, wc: 5k)

Scully deals with the aftermath of her return in One Breath.

fate (melissa scully, dana scully, pre-series, s3, paper clip post ep, wc: 3k)

Thirty-two years of sisterhood sounds like forever, she thinks, but it is not enough.

monster dog (msr ust, queequeg, s3, post eps: the list, 2shy, the walk, 731)

Fox Mulder and his unlikely rivalry with a Pomeranian.

everything changes but the sea (csm, mulder family, pre-xf, musings of a cigarette smoking man, demons)

He’d never once considered being a father. (extended backstory on CSM)

roaring like the ocean (msr ust, angst. cancer arc, elegy/demons/gethsmane/redux i, wc: 11k)

Scully deals with her worsening cancer as tensions run high between her and Mulder.

old pennies (msr ust, angst, kistunegari post ep, wc: 1k)

Post-ep for Kitsunegari.

renegade (diana fowley, diana/mulder, pre-xf, the end, wc: 2k)

Why Diana Fowley went over to the other side.

flights (msr ust, fight the future, wc: 3k)

The flights Mulder and Scully took during Fight the Future.

reconsideration (msr ust, mentions of diana/mulder, the beginning, triangle, dreamland, the rain king, tithonus, one son, arcadia, milagro, the unnatural, field trip, wc: 6k)

Times Mulder and Scully reconsidered the status of their relationship.

auld acquaintance (msr ust to rst, post amor fati, per manum flashbacks, millennium, wc: 7k)

In the wake of Mulder's recovery after Amor Fati, Scully asks Mulder for a favor as they begin to grow closer.

the praxis of a water bed (among others) (msr, vignette, rush, the goldberg variation, orison, the amazing maleeni, signs and wonders, wc: 4k)

Five of the first times Scully woke up in Mulder's bed.

ashes and dust (msr, post mulder’s abduction, deadalive/three words, wc: 21k)

The days following Mulder’s resurrection.

here (msr, baby fic, s8: roadrunners, deadalive, empedocles, vienen, existence, wc: 4k)

Four times Mulder or Scully talked to their baby, and one time they both did.

relinquo (doggett and reyes, post the truth, release, william, john doe, 4-d, msii, wc: 6k)

How Doggett and Reyes left the X-Files.

the definitions of home (msr, post the truth, on the run, wc: 9k)

Mulder and Scully, on the road.

melting snow (msr, iwtb missing scene, wc: 2k)

In the wake of the events of I Want To Believe, Scully reflects.

shatter on impact (msr, pre-msi, iwtb, break-up fic, angst, wc: 9k)

An examination of the reasons Scully left Mulder before season 10.

going home (maggie scully, scully family, pre-xf, beyond the sea, paper clip, home again, wc: 5k)

The last things Maggie Scully said to her family.

the lies told (csm, jackson van de kamp, my struggle iii, an explanation for csm's bullshit paternity claim, wc: 4k)

A complex explanation of CSM’s lie about William’s paternity.

praescitum (msr, s10/11 casefile, post-msi, founder's mutation, mulder and scully meet the weremonster, home again, msii, msiii, this, plus one, the lost art of forehead sweat, ghouli, wc: 167k)

As Mulder and Scully adjust to their reassignment to the X-Files and working together in the wake of their separation, they find themselves investigating a small town and a ghost that apparently warns people of bad things to come.

AU stories

unspoken rules (msr, kissing, pilot, squeeze, the jersey devil, ice, beyond the sea, wc: 7k)

Five times Mulder and Scully kissed and never talked about it, and one time they didn’t.

day after tomorrow (msr, s2, firewalker au, wc: 3k)

She almost died a few weeks ago. But she is here, alive. And her partner has kissed her.

forty-yard line (msr ust, s2, irresistible au, wc: 1k)

Mulder and Scully make it to that football game.

november 27, 1973 (samantha mulder, fox mulder, pre-series au, s2 au: ascension, colony/end game, wc: 6k)

five things that could’ve happened to samantha mulder.

band-aids and goddamn cats (msr, au, s3, teso dos bichos missing scene, wc: 1k)

Missing scene from Teso Dos Bichos.

a roll of stars and fade to black (msr, s4, the field where i died au, wc: 10k)

A rewrite of "The Field Where I Died."

anchor (msr ust, s4, cancer arc, memento mori au)

AU where Mulder stays with Scully during Memento Mori.

locking out the ghosts (msr, s5 fic: emily, kitsunegari, kill switch, bad blood, patient x, the red and the black, all souls, the pine bluff variant, and folie a deux, wc: 62k) 

Post-Emily arc, an emotionally vulnerable Scully breaks off the incredibly new relationship she and Mulder have recently been engaged in. As the season moves forward, how do they cope with this new development in their relationship, and how do the stressful situations their job puts them in affect this?

merry little christmas (msr ust, how the ghosts stole christmas au, wc: 3k)

A How the Ghosts Stole Christmas AU: what if Mulder hadn’t been alone for Christmas?

the fountain (msr, casefic, hurt/comfort angst, tithonus/detour casefile, canon divergence after milagro, wc: 50k)

When Mulder is forced to confront Scully's immortality in the wake of the Padgett case, he can see only one solution: to search for the Fountain of Youth to either look for a way to get rid of it or find a way to keep her from being alone. When Scully is assigned to a serial killer case in the same area as the alleged Fountain, Mulder tags along in an attempt to help her and find the Fountain at the same time.

Months later, Mulder has been missing for months and Scully is left only with the leads he was searching for. When a new lead pops up, she departs to search for her partner and to discover what happened before he disappeared six months earlier.

california winter (fox mulder, teena mulder, cassandra spender, samantha mulder, jeffrey spender, pre-xf, mytharc from one son/sein und zeit/closure, wc: 12k)

Fox and Samantha Mulder, brother and sister, disappeared from their homes on November 27, 1973.

(A shift in the events of Samantha's abduction leads to a very different outcome.)

encephalon (msr, s7 fic, au where m&s actually deal with mulder’s stupid brain disease: all things, brand x, hollywood a.d., je souhaite, requiem, wc: 18k)

AU where Mulder tells Scully that he is dying in season 7 and the situation is dealt with accordingly.

whispering images (emily sim, msr, early season 8 au, mytharc from within/without, this is not happening, emily, references to invocation and per manum, wc: 14k)

During his abduction, Mulder realizes that Scully’s daughter, Emily, is still alive.

whirlwind (msr, william, s9 au: providence and provenance, wc: 13k)

AU where Mulder comes home during Providence and helps Scully search for their son.

a mountain in colorado (jackson van de kamp, emily sim, samantha mulder, melissa scully, post-ghouli au, wc: 23k)

While Jackson Van de Kamp is on the run, he encounters a series of assumed-dead relatives he didn’t know he had.

**series still in progress**

[believersneverdie-moving]

*hands you a slice of pizza* congrats on the 3000!!! oh! and if you are still doing the blog rates.... my fave song is every single song off Folie ^_^

thank u :O!!! im gonna assume u meant 300 hghdfhgshg i definitely dont have 3k

url: i dont get it | not my thing | alright | pretty cool! | love it!! | who did u kill

icon: i dont get it | not my thing | alright | pretty cool! | love it!! | where did u get it omg

mobile theme: not my thing | alright | pretty cool! | love it!! | im probably stealing this at some point

posts: not my thing | alright | pretty cool! | love it!! | excuse me while i go rb everything youve ever posted

overall: not my thing but u do u | alright | pretty cool! | love you!! | my longest yeah boy ever

following?: no sorry but ilu | just did! | yes!! | u would have to block me to make me unfollow you

[stucky-ficrecs]

Completed WIPs, August 2017, part 1

It is more than halfway through September, and I just realized yesterday that I hadn’t done the completed WIPs list. This month has gotten away from me, y’all.

Split into two parts because the list is so long Tumblr ate the links, thanks to the @thestuckylibrary-bigbang. Here's part 2!

Then And Now by ItsTheClimb (E, 1321)

Say It Back by tomioneer (T, 3K)

The Azure Bullet by ashitaka (E, 10K)

Sometimes two separates is better than a whole by Gaia_bing (T, 7K)

Three Ways to Travel by Silent_journey (M, 6K)

Political Toys by samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30) (E, 331K)

Human. by asoldierswinter (T, 8K)

With Love, James by hsparker (M, 1048)

Broken Soul Seeking Same by Queerily_kai (T, 32K)

A Different Kind of Us by VeronicaFerCard (M, 81K)

There are Wolves in the World by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (T, 27K)

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? by milollita, OriginalCeenote (E, 60K)

Fine Art by roe87 (E, 6K)

Colder Weather by FireflysLove (M, 20K)

Put A Little Sugar In My Bowl by die_traumerei (E, 16K)

After, Therefore Because of It by alby_mangroves, noncorporealform (E, 94K)

Feelings are Tough: the Bucky Barnes Story by notlucy for Crockzilla (E, 4K)

i struggle and emerge by buvkissteves (E, 22K)

Something Sweet by ColorCoated (E, 24K)

Roll for Initiative by QueenoftheRandomWord42 (T, 30K)

Folie a Deux by cloud_wolfbane (E, 55K)

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[foli-vora]

congrats on 3k!! Not sure if you're still doing this, but can I request something smutty with agent whiskey with the prompt "can we go home yet?"

Thank you for the request, my sweet! I'm so sorry for the time it took to get around to it, but I hope you enjoy! ❤️

errands

jack daniels x f!reader

word count: 1.7k warnings: i love him sm, sweet husband jack will give you everything, jack being a sexy menace, semi public/parking lot activities, swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY: what's a domesticity kink called? idk, whatever it is we've got that. fingering, orgasm denial, can't not use this gif lmao

The familiar churning of warmth in the pit of your stomach has followed you relentlessly throughout the day, despite you leaving your shared bed much later than socially acceptable after a long morning lost in Jack’s hold. There’s a gentle ache between your thighs from his dedicated efforts, the feeling never once letting your mind wander from the way he unravelled every part of your body and soul over and over.

And this? This wasn’t helping.

The confidence he oozed striding through the hardware store, knowing exactly what he wanted and where he would get it. The way he would ramble about the house renovation plans; what rooms could be what, where he could build you a little reading nook with a window overlooking the endless rolling green fields, or what materials he would need to make some floor to ceiling built in bookcases for your shared collection of books…

His excitement at dedicating his variety of skills into bringing your dream home to life is palpable, bringing forth such a fond tenderness to your chest that it makes you swear you couldn’t possibly love this man anymore if you tried. It rolls from him in waves now, as he wanders with his full cart of various renovation necessities and voicing his thoughts on what particular paint colours would match your shared vision.

It’s just all so sweet, so domestic.

It’s driving you wild.

Lips wrapping around the straw of your soda cup, you study the broad planes of his back, covered by his ever present leather jacket that thankfully stops just above the soft swell of his ass—bless that man for knowing how to pick his jeans. If it weren’t for the sweet elderly couple flicking through colour swatches at the end of the aisle, you simply would’ve crowded him into the shelves just for a much needed taste of his mouth, and maybe a quick feel—

“You listenin’ to me back there?”

“Not really,” you admit honestly, tongue rolling across your lower lip as he gives you a playful frown of disapproval from over his shoulder. That familiar heat rises and swells in your core, and you shift impatiently on your feet. “Can we go home yet?”

He chuckles, reaching out to pluck a paintbrush from the shelf and feeling the synthetic fibres between his fingers. “You gettin’ bored, darlin’? Is that why you’ve been poutin’ the last two aisles?”

“I haven’t been pouting.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles deeply, lips tugged up into a small smile of amusement as he continues his perusal of the variety of painting accessories. Eventually he lands on the ones he finds somewhat satisfactory, and tosses them into the cart before beckoning you closer with an open hand reached out behind him.

You take it and press up into his side easily, sighing softly at the heavy arm that wraps around your shoulders and the lips that press gently against your temple. The heat from his body seeps into yours while a wash of his familiar cologne assaults your nostrils, and it takes every bit of strength to not tilt your head and catch his lips in a searing kiss that would go scaring away any and everyone within range.

God, he just smells so damn good. 

“Okay, so I may have been pouting—but it’s all your fault.”

He chuckles, the deep throaty timbre of it twisting pleasantly in your core, and what really kills you is that he has no idea the actual effect he has on you. Everything about him either sends you into a sweet and dizzying lovesick spiral, or hurtling straight into the fiery depths of hell with the thoughts that turn in your mind.

“Is that right? How so, sugar?”

You sigh, turning in his hold and raking a finger down his chest, winding around the buttons of his shirt as it goes. “All I can think about is fucking you right in the middle of this aisle, Jack.”

He blinks in surprise, taken off guard and rendered slightly bewildered by your admittance. “Come again?”

“Yes—I’m planning on it actually, again and again.”

A grin quickly tugs at his lips and his eyes flicker to the passersby going about their days as he tugs you closer, his thick drawl oozing into your ears, “You’re gonna get us thrown out if you keep that talk up, sugar.”

“Good, then we could go home and waste the afternoon away.”

He sighs, trying to appear vexed by your apparent disinterest in your errands, but the smile still tugging insistently at his lips gives him away. You see the playful sparkle in his eyes, the desperate want to give you everything you need and more, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Come on, Jack,” you coo, dragging him in for another kiss with just a taste of everything you’re feeling that leaves him chasing your lips when you eventually pull away, “let’s go home. Let me have you.”

“You’ll be the end of me, you know that?” He grumbles quietly before shaking his head, winding a hand down to grab teasingly at your ass cheek and giving it a firm tap that sends a rocket of heat hurtling straight to your core. “Fine. Registers—now. And no dawdlin’, go on now.”

It takes an agonisingly long time to pay, and you’re sure he does it on purpose. Jack lingers, happily chatting away to the older man serving you, and he has to know how impatient it’s making you because you swear you spy a smirk lingering at the edge of his lips as you start to shift from foot to foot. 

You pounce as soon as he slides into the driver's seat, curling a hand around his neck and bringing his mouth greedily to yours. He responds quickly, unable to pull away from the lure of your kiss, lips parting and tongue meeting yours in a tangle of need. You groan into the heat of his mouth, relishing in the burn of his moustache as the kiss deepens. It does nothing to douse the fire wreaking havoc on your body, and you shift restlessly in your seat, thighs rubbing as you search for something to aid in your distress.

He chuckles, the force of his kiss moving you back into your seat as he crowds into you over the middle console, a hot hand splaying on the skin of your thigh to calm your agitation. 

The words rumble against your lips softly, “You want it right here, sugar?”

Public indecency be damned—you need something. It’s not like you’re close to the store where people mill about, with Jack always preferring to park a ways away so there’s minimal risk of someone scratching the sleek and shiny paint of the Bronco. There’s no one around, it’s just you two… just you two, in your own little piece of bliss. 

You pant softly into his mouth while nodding, fire growing up and along your spine as his rough fingers start to push up beneath the hem of your sundress. You’re already squirming from the familiar feel of them, system wired tightly in keen anticipation to feel them brush against you.

“You’re a greedy little thing today,” he murmurs, fingers coaxing your thighs to widen as they begin to dip their way beneath the waistband of your underwear.

A groan reverberates from his chest when he gently glides them along your slit to feel the heavy build up of arousal, taking a painfully long moment to simply feel you, before zoning in on your clit with the lightest of pressures. He circles softly over it, darkened eyes bouncing over your features as you relish in the hazy roll of pleasure taking over your body.

He ducks to press a series of open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat, teeth teasingly nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue soothing the brief pinch of pain away before the curve of his nose traces the shell of your ear. His honeyed drawl brings a shiver across your skin, and it really should be fucking illegal with the things it makes you feel.

“You been walkin’ around like this all morning, honey? You poor thing.”

Finally—God, finally—he allows his fingers to dip down and tease at your entrance, swirling two thick digits shamelessly through your arousal before sliding and curling them deep against the walls of your cunt. He’s quick to swallow the broken sounds that fall from your throat, his lips quirking up into a self satisfied smirk against yours as your hips squirm needily against the pressure of his hand.

“Go on, sugar. Take what you need, I’ve got you.”

You begin a somewhat messy rock of your hips, unashamedly beginning to fuck yourself on his fingers and ensuring to keep the calloused heel of his hand pressed up hard against your swollen clit. It provides the friction you need, you crave, with every back and forth roll against the rough surface of it causing the overwhelming heat in your core to build.

It’s just what you need. It’s just—it’s perfect. The feel of his thick digits dragging against your hot, slick walls; the relentless pressure against your clit; the perfect harmony of both working in tandem to bring a wash of electricity across your nerves, to bring you closer to that blissful edge you feel coming with every tense second—

“G-god, Jack—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

And… fuck. It’s right there, you’re right there—

—only for it to be just out of reach.

The feeling heightens, lingers, and then horrifically melts away into a throbbing ache as Jack retracts his fingers completely, the thick digits glistening from your flood of arousal in the sunlight filled cab.

He ignores your agonised cry of denial from the sudden loss and emptiness, and sucks them into his mouth, before reaching and turning the keys in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life loudly beneath you while you’re left trembling against the leather, thighs spread and cunt weeping.

“That’s what you get for bein’ impatient,” he drawls, a wicked shine to those warm honey eyes. “Now you sit pretty for the ride home, and I may be nicer when I get that sweet ass of yours inside.”

[purple-satan-fic]

Satan’s 2k16 Fic List

i’ve also dubbed this “the garbage will do” because i am trash, back and ready for action after a four year hiatus from fandom...

this was the year of STAR WARS, a fandom i honestly never thought i would be in. and then i saw TFA. then kylo took off his helmet. fuck. then we made fanon hux and he took over my writing. fuck. #ragrets

anyway here’s a cut so you don’t see an obnoxious wall of fic. i’m pretty proud i posted 13 fics since i arrived late (without starbucks) in june to the fandom.

Kylux, Reyux & Reylux. maybe i will have more variety and less hux in 2K17.

♥ KYLUX ♥

starboy (camworker!hux, stalker!kylo, high school!AU. WIP. explicit.) 3K for @aicosu

Ripe (witch!kylo, witch hunter!hux AU. finished. explicit. tags for gore, violence, etc. triggers) 3K for @arkadycosplay

Wider, Baby, Smile and You’ve Just Made a Million (Girls on Film) (stripper!hux AU, also hux/bala-tik and hux/guavian death gang. WIP. explicit.) 3K for @every-day-is-star-wars-day and @floatin-on-bespin

Like No One Ever Was (the one where hux and kylo are pokemon trainers for opposing teams. this is actually my personal fav of the year. finished. angst warning. teen.) 3.6K for @pidgy-draws

baby i’m a dark star, oh (my attempt at in-universe kylux fluff that went very VERY awry. finished. smangst warning. explicit.) 2K of soft kylux nightmares.

With Regards, Kanjiklub (undercover!kylux. crackfic. gratuitous bala-tik. finished. explicit.) 2K for @every-day-is-star-wars-day

♥ REYUX ♥

Indiscretions (college!AU. finished. explicit) 2K.

And I’ll Love You (If It Won’t Make Me Starve) (hux and rey do dinner on the Finalizer. finished. gen.) 1K for @mendelsons

♥ REYLUX ♥

Juniper (black mirror - san junipero!AU. finished. epilogue warning. smangst warning. explicit.) 7.5K for the Reylux Tropesgiving Exchange / @kuresoto

Folie a Trois (amnesiac!rey, life on the Finalizer. WIP. smangst warning. explicit.) 9K for the 2016 Reylux Fic Exchange / @feckyeswriting & @kasamon

Ascendancy & Consanguinuity (Hux, Kylo and Rey have a child - Silas. This only part of his story. finished. tags for major character death. angst warning. mature.) 3K for @aicosu, a continuation of Verdis Quo.

♥ MULTI ♥

(Lose) Control (an outtake that didn’t fit the narrative of another fic. Sex Cult!First Order. orgies. jedistormpilot and kylux. new weird. WIP. explicit) 2K.

special shout-outs to everyone tagged in this post because they helped inspire me and were rewarded by my lizard brain for their amazing contributions to fandom. also to my fallen brethren in the reylux fam, you guys know who you are and i love you. you did survive the star war even if you don’t think you did  ♥

like i always say, writing never happens in a vacuum, so many thanks to the great people i have met since joining this fandom and who have inspired me and pushed me to new writing goals. everyone who listened when i sobbed over a fic, anyone who beta’d or sensitivity read, anyone who sat and gamely let me lob ideas at them, and especially those of you who read, kudos, liked, reblogged , commented and recc’d my writing. you guys are the real MVPs.

also everyone who participated and promoted the two reylux fic exchanges we did this year! as an organizer i can tell you i honestly have the easy part, its the writers who deserve the credit for the content that keeps our fandom going. so keep up the good work well into 2017 and i hope we all in fandom get along and have a great year!

[foli-vora]

First of all

(I am sure I started following for the Dave/Marcus series)

With Javier Peña can I get F reader and

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” and “You’re so fucking cute.”

A medium amount of filth if possible

Ah my love! Thank you so much! You're such an amazing light in this fandom, and we love and appreciate you so much! Thank you for sending in a request! I don't know what happened but it got a bit out of hand and super soft and a bit angsty lmao, but I hope you still enjoy and the medium amount of filth still hits right! ❤️

before my eyes

javier pena x f!reader

word count: 3k warnings: idk i feel like this is a mess but i'm going with it, neighbour!javi, swearing, smoking, SOFTNESS, smidgen of angst, mention of injury/gunshot wounds/surgery, SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral sex (f), unprotected p in v

“Shit,” you curse, watching the box in your hands give way to the contents within.

The bottom gives out, your belongings spilling down the stairway, and you heave a sigh of impatience. Sweat slicks your skin, causing the flow of your dress to cling to you as you bend to try and find some semblance of organisation to the unexpected chaos thrust upon you. 

“Let me help,” a voice says from the top of the stairs, and you turn to watch the newcomer jog softly down the steps and duck to gather some of your things.

“Thanks,” you murmur, heat washing under your cheeks, “this is just what I need.”

Of course the attractive man living in your building has to catch you in a moment of mayhem. Javier, as he had previously introduced himself the day before, gives you a small smile, the yellow tinted sunglasses covering his eyes sliding down the curved bridge of his nose.

“Not having the best day?” 

“It could be better,” you reply dryly.

The plumbing in your apartment is weak at best, with a few leaks springing from the pipes beneath the sink in your kitchen and bathroom. Not to mention the shot to shit AC unit, leaving the humid Colombian air to fill every inch of every room.

“I could come and take a look,” Javier says, making a neat pile of books before sweeping them up into his arms and following you the rest of the way to your door. “I’m no plumber, but I could fiddle around with the pipes at least. I know a guy who could come out for the AC.”

“You don’t seem like the type of guy to have a tool set laying around,” you tease lightly, shifting the barely fixed box onto your hip to push open your door.

Javier grins, “You’re right—I don’t, but I have been taught a thing or two. I’m sure the Hillbilly’ll have something I could use. I can come tonight, if you want?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble—”

“You’re not—I offered.”

It may not have been any trouble for him to come over, but he certainly was trouble himself, you had quickly come to learn. The feelings he invokes in you is something you hadn’t quite felt before. He makes his desire obvious, unashamed with his light flirtations that never fail to bring butterflies flying right up your throat.

As a thank you for fixing your leaky pipes, you cook. Your first proper meal in your new apartment, and in wonderful company, too. Who'd have thought your new move would bring you here? 

Dinner is filled with easy conversation, and he expertly dodges any and all questions relating to his work. You know that he works with Steve, your new neighbour Connie’s husband, and you know by her that Steve works for the DEA.

You don’t mention work again for the night. He stays longer than you had originally expected, content to share a glass of bourbon on your couch and listen to the soft music falling from your record player.

The evening ends with no more than a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips, and your heart thunders in your chest when he remains close enough to feel his breath wash over your lips.

For a second, you find yourself wanting, hoping that he’d close those last few centimetres and grace you with the feeling of his lips over yours…

… but no.

Instead, he turns, leaving with a dangerously charming, almost teasing, smile and a quiet goodnight.

Trouble, indeed.

Weeks pass before you see him again for more than a few seconds alone or without the company of Steve and Connie, striding into the building late at night and running an anxious hand through his hair. A tough day, you assume. He would have plenty with his line of work.

You make your presence known and smile softly at him, still clad in your party dress from a night out with new friends.

“Not having the best day?” You ask gently, leaning against the railing of the stairs as the effects of the alcohol in your system bring a hazy swirl to the edges of your vision.

He stops, playing with his keys between his fingers before giving a shrug, “It could be better.”

Your stomach tightens and flips with his low rasp. The attraction is undeniable, and you’d been questioned viciously by Connie in regards to the looks you and Javier would share, or the energy that would fill the room whenever you two were close. You’d had no answers at the time, putting it down to merely a simple crush that would pass soon.

Something in your mind said differently though, that this felt like more, deeper than a silly little crush that would fade away after a few months. You hope he shares the same sentiment, but with the choices and certain circumstances he would put himself in for his job and gathering intel, you started to doubt more and more that that would happen. 

“Want me to help with that?”

It’s the remnants of various fruity cocktails bringing forth a small wave of flirty confidence. Usually you would never be so upfront, but you don’t find yourself regretting the words as soon as they pierce the air. You want it, with every inch of you.

He thinks it over for a long moment, his eyes dragging over your body with an obvious shine of desire and admiring your flattering choice of attire, but instead a slight curl pulls at the corners of his lips and your heart thuds harder and faster in your chest.

“Maybe another night, when you can actually remember me in the morning,” he teases deeply, smiling wider when you give a breathy chuckle. “You need help getting in?”

“No, I’ve got it. Goodnight, Javier.”

“Goodnight, corazón.”

That's new.

You struggle to get rid of the smile curling your lips, even long after you wave him goodbye and tuck yourself into bed. His voice lingers, images flash behind your lids as you try to sleep.

He drives you crazy.

He fills your thoughts every moment of the day—his face, his eyes, his smile. His voice would linger in your ears, the low rasp of it keeping your nerves electrified.

You look for him in the entryway coming home, you listen out for his comings and goings through your thin front door. Sometimes you even catch yourself having a little peek through your peephole when you hear him and Steve, watching as he runs a hand through his hair and ever so slightly looks towards your door before vanishing. 

It’s one night you both happen to arrive home at the same time, the humidity of Colombia sticking to your skin but relieved with the breeze that blows through the streets. He lingers, seemingly happy to chat while you fiddle with the straps of your handbag.

“You want a drink?”

The question is a welcome surprise, and you merely nod in answer, unable to quite force the words out your mouth.

His apartment is… Javier. It’s minimal, no signs of being truly lived in with photographs and knick knacks like the ones that fill your walls and tables, but the air filling it is comfortable and cosy, the music that falls from his record player familiar and calming.

Conversation flows easily.

He’s tired, the bags hanging softly beneath his eyes showing that work has been extra hard on him the last few weeks. You love that he looks relaxed with you, sinking into his couch with his head leaning comfortably on the back as it rolls to face you.

He smiles at your ramblings, laughs quietly at your stories, the crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes hitting somewhere deep in your chest. 

You don’t even realise you fall asleep until later in the night.

You wake only a few hours later, hazy and slightly confused by your surroundings, but instantly soften at the heavy breaths that fall into your ears. He’s asleep next to you, still cradling the half nursed glass of whiskey in his hands. His head rests just beside yours, his lips barely parted and breath washing past your face as you watch him for a long minute.

He needs rest. Carefully, you extract yourself from the couch and gently place your own glass on the coffee table before draping him in the coloured crochet blanket hanging just beside him and pressing a tender kiss of goodnight to his forehead.

It wakes him, his eyes half open when you pull away to leave and the sheer force of his gaze keeps you from moving away any further. He watches you quietly, his dark sleep filled eyes roaming your face before he leans up and catches your lips with his own and steals the breath from your lungs.

He moves slowly, hands roaming your legs and hips before cupping your ass and pulling you down until your knees sink into the cushions beside his hips. You settle in his lap easily, muscles loosening with each curl of his tongue along yours until you’re practically melting at his touch. 

Everything feels right.

Every moment, every kiss, every touch… God, he knows what he’s doing. He devotes his energy to you, uncaring about meeting his own end and instead selfish with the time he spends on your body. He studies it all—what makes your breath hitch, what makes your legs shake, what makes your fingers tighten and tug at his hair.

You savour every sharp exhale and groan that falls from his lips. It's not long until you're spread out on his couch, watching with wide eyes as he tugs at your underwear and throws the soaked cotton over his shoulder with a lazy smirk that radiates trouble.

He loses himself between your thighs, dress haphazardly shoved up and out of the way so he’s free to devour you as he wishes, his tongue rolling and circling over your clit and diving into the weeping entrance of your cunt until you’re breathless and incoherent.

He brings you up and over the edge again and again, until you physically think you can’t possibly give him any more, only to have him force yet another out of your system with his low rumble sinking into your ears.

So good for me, look at you. Let me feel you, so fucking good. Give it to me, come on now, corazón—

You’re bent over the arm of the couch when he finally gets sick of the dress still clinging to your frame, fingers unforgiving as they wrench the dress up and off your body, freeing your skin to his hungry touch.

They roam at their leisure, cupping the soft swell of your tits and pinching your hardened nipples until you squirm against the solid feel of him pressed up against your ass.

He ruts into you without abandon, cock hitting just that bit too far and blessing you with the sharp twinge of pain alongside the blissful feel of him dragging against your walls and you're seeing stars, clinging to the cushions as a means to keep your head straight and not lose yourself to the overwhelming ecstasy threatening to have you passing out.

He cums with his lips on your neck, mouth hot and heavy against your sweat slicked skin as he pants into the curve on your shoulder, before pressing one simple final kiss there. He lingers, pressed tightly against you and crowding you into the firm arm of the couch as he softens within you, his cum trailing a slow, hot path down the inside of your thigh.

You curl into the reassuring hand to rub along your back as you sink shakily back to sit down. You smile shyly when he reappears with a warm cloth, lazily sliding it across your skin and softly cupping it against your tender cunt to calm the ache there.

It’s intimate, the sheer closeness of the action bringing your heart to beat at the base of your throat.

Surprisingly, he asks you to stay, and your heart doesn’t calm until exhaustion claims you after your head meets his pillow, the familiar scent of his cologne and the faint traces of cigarettes clinging to the soft cotton. 

It’s a slow development. 

The next time, he comes to you, knocking on your door in the middle of the night and you let him in without a word. You cuddle into the leftover warmth on your bed long after he leaves for his own apartment to head to work, the ghost of his lips moving over your body following you for the rest of the day.

The time after, it’s his place again, but this time, he cooks. It’s the first time it feels like something more than sex, but it goes unaddressed.

You talk and talk, you learn about his father, his life before Colombia. You admit to finding your life lacking, forever wishing for something more than the mundane ‘find a husband and settle down’ expectations struck upon you.

There’s something there, lingering behind the way you take each other apart.

It follows his touch, oozes from the kisses you pepper each other with. It feels nice, it feels so right. You feel comfortable in his bed, completely nude and not at all bothering to hide any part of you. It feels normal, natural even, when he lays beside you and throws out random topics of conversation with his lips around a cigarette, occasionally offering it to you and chuckling warmly when you’d attempt to inhale the harsh tobacco. You’re both unperturbed by the silence that would sometimes follow.

And that feeling never disappears, it only grows as the weeks go on.

You know you have strong feelings for him one morning when you feel him press a tender kiss of goodbye to your forehead while you’re still half asleep. It has your heart quickening, something soft and sweet and warm curling around your chest. You bathe in the glow of it. 

But it would be addressed later—you’d hate to potentially ruin whatever you have building with him by speaking on your feelings too quickly.

And then, one fateful day, it happens. It all comes crashing down around you and for the first time, you worry you'll never be able to speak the words to him.

The steady beep of the machine is somewhat comforting in the chill of the room. You barely notice it, too consumed with watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the light blanket covering his body. Steady, they had said, after the surgery they had rushed him into.

It hadn’t been expected, the phone call during the morning of another seemingly normal work day. Steve had sounded nervous, a first for your neighbour. He hadn’t been able to give you all the details, all you knew was that it was bad.

Shot. A bullet in his side and one in his chest. 

You had flown to the hospital, rushed in with his name falling in rushed pleas and they had shown you to the waiting room to await a doctor for more information. Steve was there, Connie, too. She had doted on you, guided you to a close seat and ordered her husband to get you a drink, a snack, anything.

Hours went by, and soon a man appeared, kindly reassuring you he had made it through with minimal issues, and was now in recovery. You were beside him within an hour.

He was warm to the touch, his pulse thrumming softly under your fingers as you had gently cradled his hand. He had remained motionless at the tender kiss you had pressed to his forehead, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he remained in the bliss of a hopefully painless sleep.

And you hadn’t moved since. Steve had left after some gentle pressing from Connie, and you had reassured him you’d call the moment he awoke. He had gripped Javi’s fingers softly, giving him one final look of worry, before turning and leaving under the arm of his wife.

Nurses come and go, checking his IV and doing their routine of observations, never worrying about their findings and erasing any of your lingering fear with a warm smile. They bring you coffee as the day bleeds into night, keeping you fed with cold hospital sandwiches and the occasional packet of sweet biscuits. 

You just want him to wake.

It’s normal, they say. Just give him time.

“Javi,” you murmur softly, leaning forward to brush his hair back for the thousandth time, “I know you need some time to get your strength back, and that’s fine, but just so you know—if you don’t wake up, and you die? I will kill you.”

As you expected, he stays silent, but you still smile, lingering to brush your fingers down his cheek softly before settling back in your seat. Your hands wrap around the arm resting in front of you, and you rest to press your cheek on his warm skin, content to watch him sleeping and losing yourself to dreams sometime into the night, too.

It’s a slight pressure on your temple that gently pries you out of dreamy darkness. It moves, sliding along your skin softly before disappearing and returning to where you’d first felt it. Fingers, you realise hazily, recognising the feel of someone stroking your face.

Your eyes flutter open, immediately to be met with a pair of tired dark eyes seemingly content in watching you. Javi.

Startled, you sit up and reach to call for the nurse, only to stop at the raspy voice that tells you to calm down.

“They already know,” Javi says quietly, throat dry and raw. “They just didn’t want to wake you.”

You turn for the jug of water and pour some into the little plastic cup, carefully plucking the straw from the table and holding it at his lips. He drinks slowly, humming from the relief of the cool liquid filling his mouth.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he replies dryly, lips twitching at the corners.

“Idiot,” you snark around a grin, returning the cup to the table and linking your fingers through his. “No, really, how are you?”

He sighs, head rolling on the pillow so he can look at you better, “I’m doing okay, corazón.”

You nod, tongue running along your lips as you take reassurance from his words. He’s okay.

You tighten your fingers through his and take a small breath to calm the anxiety in your system, unaware you’re crying until you hear him breathe your name. You mumble an apology, almost embarrassed by the stream of tears, but it’s soon muffled by his hospital gown as he gently pulls you to him.

Carefully, you rest your head on one side of his chest, mindful of the thick bandaging on the other and warm at the arms that come to rest over your back.

Admitting feelings can wait. For now, you’re content to just rest in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your ear.

“You know,” Javi murmurs against the top of your head, “you’re really fucking cute when you snore.”

“I do not snore!”

-

Yeah this was a mess but I'm into it nonetheless lmao.

I haven't updated my taglists yet soz x

taglist 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

[foli-vora]

Congratulations Foli!!! You deserve all those followers and more.

How about #146 “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, I was just..” “Want some help?” with Frankie? Maybe a friends to lovers vibe? 👀

And no pressure! I know prompts can be hit or miss, muse-wise 💕

hello my angel! thank you so much, and thank you for your request! friends to lovers? baby, you are speaking my language! i had so much fun writing this - i hope you enjoy, lovely!

caught out

frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 2k warnings: STRICTLY 18+ ONLY. masturbation (f), eavesdropping/slight voyeurism, spiiice, bumpin' & grindin', the utter softness that this man makes me feel

[gif by moi]

It’s the need for tools that brings him to your house on a Saturday afternoon, standing outside your pale green front door with his shades shielding his eyes from the warm spring sun. You hadn’t responded to his text of ‘are you home?’ and he briefly wonders if you had plans.

He knocks, waiting a beat before knocking again. Not home, then.

He works his keys from his back pocket and fingers through the different ones until he finds yours, slipping it into the lock and letting himself in. You wouldn’t mind – you never did.

You made it clear when giving him a key that he was free to come and go as he pleased, unlike Benny who was now on a strict policy to only let himself into your home with explicit permission after he ended up eating the leftovers you had saved and were excited to eat after work. The younger Miller barely survived that ordeal. 

He toes his boots off quietly by the door before making a move for your kitchen, knowing the last time he had his wrench set was when he fixed your shitty sink last week. You really need a new one – how many times did he need to fix that thing before you accepted that fact? So stubborn.

It’s when he’s rifling through your cupboard, his sunglasses discarded on the countertop, that he thinks he hears you calling to him. It was definitely his name, and it was definitely you… so maybe you were home. Looking around your place, you wouldn’t think so. No lights were on, no music or TV or any other sounds of life. Maybe you’d been sleeping?

A brief flash of guilt swims in his chest from disturbing you and he straightens, closing the cupboards softly and poking his head out of the kitchen, expecting you to be walking his way with that tender little smile that makes his heart launch into his throat every fucking time.

It was hard, reigning in the force of his not-so-little crush every damn time he saw you. You just worked so well as friends though, he didn’t want to risk ruining what you had with a relationship. And as far as he knew, you weren’t interested in seeing anyone. No… it was better to keep the bond you had as it was now. He’d only screw it up.

You’re nowhere to be found when he looks, and a frown starts to form between his brows.

You call for him again, and something deep in his gut stirs at the way you sound. Were you hurt?

A part of him seemingly knows it’s not that, but a wave of concern grows anyway and washes away the prickle of heat taking over his skin. He steps towards your room, studying the way the door falls open just a crack and your darkened room beyond.

He goes to speak, to reassure you it was him, but stops at the very faint sound of buzzing, a barely there hum filling the air. He wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so focused on it. Another whimper of his name carries to his ears and it all hits him like lightning.

God, were you –

He sucks in a breath and his hands clench into fists at his sides, his mind now screaming at him to leave. This isn’t right, he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on something so personal, so intimate, like a damn creep.

He should absolutely leave. He should slip out as quickly and quietly as he did upon entering. He needs to leave. Right now. He should leave –

Why can’t he fucking move?

His jeans pull tighter as his cock swells within the confines of them, straining against the rough fabric and throbbing with each mental image his brain throws at him.

Were you completely nude? Were you still dressed, clothes merely shoved haphazardly out of the way in your desperation to get off? How were you positioned? Was it a bullet? A vibrating dildo? How did you look taking it?

“Shit,” he curses lowly, a small curl of disgust at himself building in his gut and snapping him free from the haze of lust and hunger filling his mind.

His hands itch to touch you, to follow your guidance and learn every little thing that makes your breath catch; your toes curl; your hands tighten in his hair until it feels like you’d pull it right out of his scalp…

No.

No, he needs to leave, but then… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he lets his presence known. You are calling for him, after all. It’s his name on your lips while you’re lost in whatever bliss you’re drowning yourself in. His name — no one else's. Does that mean you feel the same as him? Was it purely sexual? Was it –

Lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts, he doesn’t realise how close his leg comes to the vintage console table lining your wall. The corner of the solid timber catches his hip and the thing jolts, an already badly balanced frame falling at the sudden knock and it slaps face down loudly.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. 

The soft noise abruptly stops in your bedroom at the sudden disturbance, and he panics, smoothing his sweaty palms down his jeans and fixing the way they sit over his stiff cock. Hopefully they were tight enough to keep it hidden.

“Hey, it’s me.” He calls, fixing the frame and desperately trying to make it look like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on you getting yourself off.

“Frankie?”

His heart thunders at your voice.

It takes a few moments for you to get yourself together, and in those few moments he thinks of anything and everything to quell the wild erection straining against fly. Fuck, why won’t it go away?

Soon your bedroom door is pulled open and then there you are, your crumpled tee caught in the waistband of your sleep shorts, no doubt from being pulled on in a panic. He tears his eyes away from your body and forces a smile, desperately trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

“Sorry, I was just – I did knock… I thought you weren’t home. I’m just here to grab my wrench set.”

“Oh!” You breathe, clearing your throat softly and discreetly fixing the way your clothes cling to you. “Right. Sorry about that, I must’ve not heard you. Yeah I uh – I moved them into the garage. Um, they’re on the shelf… next to your drill.”

He nods, rocking back onto his heels and digging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, hoping you don’t notice the way he positions his hands to make sure there’s no evidence of any sort of… obvious lumps.

His tongue runs along his lower lip, deliberating on whether or not to broach the topic. He could leave it right here – take his tools and just leave like the original plan had been. He could keep what you have and not make it awkward, not potentially risk losing the friendship you both had crafted…

Or he could take the risk. He could push it, just a little, and see where it goes. You were calling for him, you were thinking of him… that obviously meant you felt something surely. 

“Were you…”

Say it.

Say it, you fucking coward.

“Were you just masturbating?”

Mortification fills you with a flush of heat along your skin, flooding your cheeks and turning your face to flames. Your flight instinct rears to life in the back of your mind. God, he heard you. How could you explain this? Had he heard you saying his name? Moaning it? Was he uncomfortable?

Of course he’s uncomfortable! You inwardly cringe, your heart that had previously been erratic from your desperation in search of bliss, now hurried due to the panic growing in your chest. Your stomach lurches at the possibility of losing his friendship. You’d done so well hiding your crush over the time you’d known him, and now it was all falling apart.

“U-uh… no. Of course not! I was just –”

He watches you quietly, those beautifully deep, observant eyes flickering across your face as you desperately try to string together an excuse. He knows you’re lying. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone – a lie hurriedly crafted in the midst of your humiliation and panic would be all too easy for him to see through.

“Tell me,” he insists, his tone low and soft.

Something about the way he gazes at you, his eyes burning with something you just can’t place – hope? desire? – it gently coaxes the heat that had previously been dowsed back into a flame, settling low and churning in your core. It gives you a small shove of courage, and you squirm a little where you stand.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “I was.”

He exhales sharply, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he nods, almost expectantly. “And who were you thinking of?”

“You, Francisco. I was thinking of you.”

Silence falls over the both of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, the air feels charged. You feel it run along the skin of the back of your neck and down along your spine, the darkening of his gaze building a strong tightening of anticipation in your chest. This can’t be happening… can it?

Finally – he moves, standing straighter and letting his gaze roll along your frame hungrily. “Want some help?”

What? Fuck.

You can’t get the word out quick enough.

“Yes –”

He moves instantly, striding forward and curling a large hand against your skin to cup your cheek before tilting your head and claiming your mouth. Fucking finally.

His moustache tickles in the best of way, as you always suspected. His lips are soft and supple against yours, quickly giving way to an urgency you endeavour to keep up with. You’re weak against him, the strong arm that curls around your back pulling at you until you’re flush against his body.

You surrender to the ferocity of his kiss, parting your lips at the gentle probe of his tongue and meeting it with your own. He groans softly into your mouth, your hands winding around his neck and twisting your fingers into his hair.

The breath leaves your lungs when his hand drops to palm your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the fleshy swell of it and it’s your turn to moan when you feel the noticeable solid bulge in his jeans, pressing and rubbing against your mound.

Still sensitive from your previous attention to it, your clit throbs with each eager grind against his hard cock, the desperate roll of your hips encouraged by the hand planted on your ass. The thin material of your sleep shorts allows you to feel the roughness of his jeans as if there were nothing there at all, and you’re suddenly incredibly thankful for skipping underwear in your hurry to get dressed.

“Is this a bad idea?” You breathe, breaking away from the greedy pursuit of his mouth and blinking at him with a shine of worry growing in your eyes.

Though everything feels so right in the moment, you feel the stirrings of anxiety creep along the edges of your mind.

You adore Frankie – you don’t think you’d cope very well with losing him. The mere idea of it births an ache deep in your chest and you wonder if your friendship would even be salvageable after rubbing up on each other like this. How could you ever act normal around him after feeling and tasting him the way you have?

He takes a moment to try and level his breathing, swiping his tongue along his lower lip and catching the remnants of your saliva. He fights the urge to dive back in for another taste of your mouth as his heart runs wild in his chest, trying to hold back the vicious denial building in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he returns quietly, searching your face for any clues as to your answer. “Is it?”

He waits, hanging suspended in the moment. Can you see the hope in his gaze? The devotion? Can you feel the way he’s wanted this for so long? 

“No,” you decide after a moment of studying him, your fingers toying with the short waves at the nape of his neck, rolling and twisting the silky soft strands. “I don’t think this is a bad idea.”

“No?”

You smile that smile and he feels his chest tighten at the adoring warmth of it. “It’s always been you, Frankie.”

He exhales lightly, the corners of his lips twitching below his moustache with the threat of a smile. His thumb brushes the skin of your cheek and you soak in the affectionate action, your heart wild against your ribs.

“It’s always been you.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx

frankie morales tags: @a-reader-and-a-writer, @sanfransolomitatm, @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @xjsteph, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @notagamersdey, @fuckoffbard, @yt-adriana, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @breakfastonpluto19

[foli-vora]

Congrats on 3k, lovely!!!!

Can I have “you know where to find me.” with Dave York?

Pls turn my pelvis into dust. Your Dave is AMAZING.

My love. Thank you for your never ending support and love. I am honoured you enjoy my Dave! I apologise for the delay, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

A sidenote: Yes, I'm slowly making my way through these requests. Yes, they are incredibly late. Yes, we're ignoring the fact I'm well over 3k now LMAO.

your taste i crave

dave york x f!reader

word count: 1.3k warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. semi public sex/workplace sex, rough unprotected p in v, brief talk of choking, vague descriptions of toy use, use of tie as a gag, creampie, oral sex (f), cum eating, a brief thigh nibble, dave's messy idc

The edge of the copier is harsh where it digs into your stomach, but you can’t find it in you to care—not when he’s moving like this, not when his hands are locked on your hips, keeping you at his complete mercy as he takes what he wants.

He’s so fucking rough, and if you didn’t have the tight pull of his work tie around your mouth and making words practically impossible, you’re absolutely positive you’d be begging him for more.

You don’t think it will ever be enough.

Instead, all that falls from your parted, restrained lips are muffled whines and broken moans when he hits that spot that’s almost too far. It sends a jolt of pain through your system, rocketing up your spine and bringing your body harder against the machine in an effort to escape the intense sensation, but it’s quickly replaced with more heat, more need.

He merely drags you back against him each and every time, his neatly trimmed nails pressing indents into the fleshy skin of your waist as he moves behind you with tightly restrained grunts, the slap of his hips meeting your ass echoing in the small copy room.

Despite the time of day, with most of the office having enough and retreating home, there’s not much time left.

Beyond the dizzying, overwhelming feel of him rutting into you without abandon; cock so fucking solid, so goddamn thick; and bringing a flood of tears to your lash line, you know it can’t last—not like it usually does.

He’d still want to go back to work—most likely for the rest of the evening, the strict borderline obsession with his career rendering him unable to leave the mountains of work flooding his desk.

So there’s no room for build up here. No time for teasing. No long, blissful drawn out torture of him bringing you to the edge only to stop at its peak again and again.

This is about release. This is about working and relieving the tension that had been slowly building across his broad shoulders with every bullshit thing that had happened today and granting him a clearer head for the hours left at the office. This is about him, and you’re only too happy to oblige.

“Might—fuck��� might have to–to make this a regular work thing,” he grits out, hand curling around the back of your blouse and tugging roughly at it until your back is pressing against his chest.

The silk collar of it cuts into the soft flesh of your throat, and you want to ask for more.

Maybe his hand? His long thick fingers curling around the width of it and giving it that perfect squeeze that borders on too much but is always just enough.

Maybe his belt? The worn, cared for leather smooth against your skin as it tightens and tightens, slowly pushing your lungs to the max until you’re weeping from the irresistible assault of sensations.

The gag wound tight around your mouth makes it impossible to get the words out, and his mouth latches onto the curve of your shoulder, nipping and biting at the skin until it feels raw. You stretch out for more, his lips soon running hungrily along the expanse of your throat.

Close.

He’s getting close.

You know it, you can feel it.

You can feel it in the way his already bruising grip tightens just that little more. You can feel it in the way his breath starts to catch where it ghosts your skin, sticking in his throat and coming out in shorter pants as he chases the promise of that sweet, sweet high.

You can’t speak, can’t utter a single fucking word to coax him along. You can’t beg for him to keep going, to finish right where he is and fill you to the fucking brim so you can take a part of him home.

He goes wild for your shaky home videos, the smooth finish of your vibrator glistening with the remnants of his cum sliding down the silicon as you fuck yourself with his name on your lips in the cosy comfort of your bedroom.

A mantra of his name fills your mind.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

You want him to hear it, you want him to know that it’s only him that could do this, only him that could use you like this. You love it, crave it.

That familiar tingle runs along your spine in anticipation, your body aching for just that little bit more, your clit throbbing in need of desperate attention to get you just over that line right alongside him—

The groan that falls from his throat is utter filth, hoarse and throaty, and one of your favourite fucking sounds he makes. He slams his hips upwards one more time, forcing the head of his cock right up against your soft cervix as he starts to cum, and you’re left to do nothing but whine into the now damp material of his tie, barely aware of the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye.

He takes a long moment to recover, sweat slicked face hidden in your shoulder as his chest heaves against your back. The tie loosens from around your mouth and falls to rest at the base of your throat, leaving a mess of saliva coating your lips and chin which you try to wipe away as cleanly as possible with the back of your hand.

Too soon, he starts to pull away, guiding his softening cock from your tender, weeping cunt with a low hiss of ‘fuck’ before you hear the rustle of his slacks and the smooth pull of his zipper.

You take that as your silent cue, twisting and bending as well as you could on shaky legs to retrieve the damp panties still tangled around your ankles and attempt to drag them back up into place.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks gruffly, tugging the thin lace out from your fingers and letting them drop to your feet once more. “Who said I was finished with you?”

“But—”

There’s no time to argue.

He works quickly, dropping to his knees and gripping the underside of your ass enough to spread you open before pressing forward eagerly. The thick, firm feel of his tongue swipes through the mess he had made, forcing its way along your wet folds before pushing into your throbbing cunt.

You manage to smother the yelp of surprise with a quick slap of your hand over your mouth, half wishing he had left the gag in place if he wasn’t done with you. Maybe he’s trying to test you, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about being quiet anymore.

God, it’s risky.

It’s so fucking risky, it’s so fucking good—

He holds you tightly, winding an arm around the front of you to pull you harder against his face as he practically devours you from behind, eagerly coaxing more of his cum and your arousal into his mouth with feral curls and flicks of his tongue.

Your knees threaten to give out when he finally moves away from your entrance and finds your clit, smoothing over the swollen nerve with alternating quick, light flutters and firm, wide rolls. He falls into his pace easily, rekindling the heat in the pit of your stomach in a way only he knows how and you’re desperate to find something to anchor yourself with.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe brokenly, hands clutching the machine for life and eyes rolling with the fresh waves of pleasure as you can’t help but start to rock back against his face, focusing on the feel of his slick tongue sliding back and forward over your previously neglected clit, “maybe we could make this a… a r-regular work thing.”

He hums into you, breaking away with an obscene wet smack of his lips before nipping at the inside of your thigh playfully.

“You know where to find me, pretty girl. Bend over, give it to me.”

-

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

[foli-vora]

Congratulations on your milestone! That’s amazing! You deserve it so much! I was hoping to request one of the prompts.

How about “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” with Din.

You can make it as angsty as you want. I don’t mind. I like angst and I like fluff.

Thank you so much!

Hello, my sweet! Apologies for the delay in getting this out. I've gone full heart breaking angst, and I enjoyed every second lmao. Thank you for sending a request angel, I hope you enjoy! x

before you go

din djarin x f!mandalorianreader

Word count: 1.2k Warnings: angst, blood, injury and death

He knows it.

Somewhere deep inside of him—he knows it, but he still clings to hope, still looks towards the light despite being shrouded in darkness.

His hands shake as they raise up to grasp either side of your helmet and pry it softly from your head, indifferent to the sounds of battle still echoing around him.

You were safe here, hidden with him behind some destroyed walls that had taken the brunt of most of the explosions. There was no one here to see you at your most vulnerable, face free and bared to the stars. No one would come, too occupied with the fight to even notice the disappearances of either of you.

He’d looked upon your face a handful of times during your extensive time together, and even though he knew the curves of your face clearly, knew the angle of your nose and the shape of your lips, the vision of what had been hidden beneath your helmet was a sweet surprise each and every time.

It’s bad, he knows it, but… but maybe it’s not. Maybe it will all be okay. Maybe you just need a moment. Maybe—

He tears his own helmet off and lets it fall to the ground beside yours, ignoring the familiar vision of them together, so similar in shape and build, the smooth beskar reflecting the shine of moonlight and the occasional flash of more blasts.

Red soaks the roughened palm of his glove when he pulls it away from cradling your head, and warmth of it radiating against his skin threatens to bring bile up his throat. His insides burn, the mix of molten rage and panic tightening his stomach into knots.

“Cyare,” he mutters, heaving you further into his arms and pressing his bare forehead against your own in an effort to press life back into your limbs.

You can take his—take it all, just open your eyes.

Dirt and the taste of blaster fire sits on his tongue when he hurriedly bites at the tips of his glove and tugs it off, but he doesn’t care because he feels it. Beneath his bare fingertips where they press into the side of your throat, he can feel a weak drum and it’s enough for him.

It’s enough to keep him grounded, enough to keep him curled around you and hoping the breath he shares with you is enough to pry you out of whatever inky abyss you float in.

“Cyare, you need to wake up. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

It’s bad, but maybe it’s not that bad.

Maybe it will be okay.

“Din,” you croak brokenly, and his heart flies.

He moves away from pressing into your forehead, just far enough to see the flutter of your lashes and the furrow of your brows but not enough that you don’t feel the reassuring wash of his warm breath over your face.

You’re here, you’re still here, and that’s enough for him.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, letting one corner of his lips tug up into a brief semblance of a smile when your eyes finally open slowly and come to an unsteady focus on him, “I’ve got you, cyare.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. It’s a clear struggle, and his fingers brush along the skin of your cheek to calm the difficulty you have finding your voice.

He gives you a moment, and then another, patiently waiting for something, whether a single word or sentence, he doesn’t care.

The battle rages on in the distance, but he doesn’t dare move. He sits, arms tight around your armoured body, waiting for the reassurance that his hold is enough to keep you together, enough to keep up that soft drum beneath your skin.

“I—I can’t… feel a-anything,” you finally rasp, and a drop of blood starts to pool at the edge of your lips.

The galaxy shatters around him.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

He can feel how limp you are in his arms, how some of your limbs dragged unnaturally when he hauled you from the thick of the fight and into your secluded safety, and he’s positive the shine of his armour will glisten with red once you leave his arms.

The hope wavers in his chest, and he attempts to swallow around the thick lump sitting at the back of his throat. There’s little to add to your words. He knows, and now you know. He sees it in your eyes—the slow build of understanding that there’s no coming back from this, that this was it, the end of it all.

“Din—”

“I’m here.”

It’s not just a reassurance, it’s a promise.

He won’t leave you like this, bleeding and broken and departing from this existence alone. He’ll stay right where he is, till the very end. He’s sure that if you had any energy, you’d argue. You’d tell him to go, to fight, to leave you and save himself the agony of having to watch you die.

Instead, you’re left to lay in his arms, eyes tracing every familiar dimple and crease of his face, remembering the way his coarse splattering of facial hair felt against your skin and the way it tickled your lips whenever you were graced with a rare physical kiss.

He doesn’t know how long you have left, so he takes one more opportunity to remember the feel of your soft lips, eyes screwing shut in an effort to calm the sting of tears as he attempts to pour everything he couldn't say into that final press of lips. He holds there, against your mouth and savouring what he could, uncaring about the way your blood feels melting into the dark scruff covering his chin.

When he pulls away, he sees a tear of his own sitting on your skin, sliding down your cheek alongside your own and he’s sorry he wasn’t strong enough to hide it from you.

“I… I’m with you,” you whisper weakly, eyes noticeably heavier, “a-always.”

He watches the last breath get dragged between parted lips and he swears his heart stops with your own. He hears the broken inhale that is never balanced with an exhale, and then he knows you’re gone.

Gone.

It echoes in his mind, chipping away at the tightly wound restraint he has on his emotions. He couldn't break, not here, not now.

No, he makes a silent vow he would see this all through, that he wouldn't disappoint you wherever you are. He'd carry you with him, until the day comes where he might see your face again.

He doesn’t move for a time, taking his one last chance to memorise every little detail of your face before he finally rests your limp frame delicately against the ground and reaches for your helmet.

It's solid in his hold, and he carefully cradles your head to slip it back over your head. The heavy thud of his heart only fuels the rage simmering in the pit of his gut as he carefully returns you to a warrior, ensuring your helmet was fit snuggly before reaching for his own.

He takes a breath, the modulator crackling with the pain of it, along with one final moment of weakness to steal one last keldabe kiss with the gentle press of beskar, before standing and leaving you among the rubble and ruins, kicking back off into the air with a new fire flowing through his veins.

-

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