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stardew-shitposterino · 6 months

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Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they deal with their secret crush on the farmer

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BEHOOOOLD! I’m kind of back but I’m not because I have a job and feel tired most of the time. I still need to get used to adult life. Anyway, here are the bachelors and how they deal with having a fat crush on you, you cutesy farmer person covered in filth!

Contents might be a bit NSFW so MINORS…you know what not to do *fights them off with a stick*

Enjoy my brainrot 🍓🥰

Sam:

-Sammy is a cute little guy, almost like a dog wagging it’s tail when they see their owner.

-he is SO BAD at hiding it

-he will dream about you two jamming on a big stage together. In his ideal world, you two are a successful duo who make noise rock (kind of like the white stripes minus the weird siblings or married controversy)

-Sam will write songs about you. It’s not intentional per say, and he thinks he really sucks at writing love songs, but it just happens whenever he has to think about you. The words just start flowing.

-he might or might not have had some steamy shower fantasies about you…while in the shower. Jodie keeps complaining about the water bill being unusually high 👀

-yet, Sam is usually not too horny when he is in love with you. He is more gushy and daydreamy than anything

Sebastian:

-homeboy works with nightcore versions of love songs to cope with his longing

-he isn’t the type to show his feelings so openly, so no one really notices his crush on you. Maybe Sam, but well, he is Seb’s best bud. Of course he can tell

-He notices how his sleep has improved since having a crush on you. He willingly goes to bed earlier to have some time to imagine scenarios of you two

-just you and him together on his cool ass motorcycle, driving into the night and ending it with a passionate kiss (sounds familiar?)

-well,,, let’s just say Seb is increasingly horny since having a crush on you. Before, he was almost certain he is some sort of asexual, but nope 😃 he’s healthy and extremely down bad for the filthy farmer who eats raw fish out of the pond 🥰

-what I mean by horny? Uhhh… he didn’t really need to rely on certain websites to satisfy his needs, that’s for sure 👀

Harvey:

-Harvey is a good man. A very good man

-god bless his soul 😫

-Harv isn’t the type to have crushes easily…I can’t believe it either, considering his crush on Maru who is way younger than him 💀

-but in my head, he isn’t the type to be all lovey dovey over someone. That’s why he’s so bad at hiding it. But you don’t really notice. You just suspect it but it could also be his usual anxiety lol

-it happened anyway😎 and he doesn’t know how to cope. At all.

-he has to think about you at all times, especially when he looks at the empty jars of delicious pickles you’ve made him

-This man is usually collected, but now?! He forgets everything, can’t even form a comprehensible sentence at times when his mind is busy thinking about a romantic picknick date with a lovely farmer

-Harvey’s libido is pretty much a dead beat horse 💀 but now he even feels the desire to do some nasty nasty at times. It’s still pretty tame, he’s a gentleman through and through, but wild for him to have those feelings and longings after what feels like decades. He’s not mad at it. He has felt low-key dead inside for so long so this is very exciting and he’s eager to explore this side of him…despite being anxious 😭

Elliott:

-bet your ass he’s the prince of crushes

-he is very dedicated and welcomes those refreshing feelings with a kiss

-feeling better than usual AND having inspiration to write ?! SIGN HIM UP

-he will use every chance he can get to talk to you, maybe even get you drunk (in a non creepy way) because he likes when you’re unapologetically authentic and let loose. It makes him feel more in touch with your soul (or some shit idk I’m not a poet)

-Elliott is NOT SUBTLE

-you practically know from the start that he has the hots for you, but it’s kinda funny seeing him try to pretend it’s not that way…if you can even call that pretending not to be 😭

- his passion doesn’t end at his artistry. This guy will spend a lot of time in his shower thinking about what could be, or sitting at the docks at night just staring at the sea (he’s NOT doing anything nasty in public, peeps. Don’t get it twisted)

-I can also see him recreate a romantic bedroom date he’d love to have with you…but it’s just him 🤷🏼‍♀️ self care king 👑

Shane:

-like Harvey: HE CANNOT COPE!

-he hasn’t felt like this since high school. Every other encounter with potential partners was surface level and only based on sexual satisfaction

-so caring about you, thinking about what makes you happy and how he could be the reason you smile every day, that’s a lot for him

-as stupid as it sounds, he spirals and becomes low-key miserable over it. Give this man a 101 lesson on how to process emotions 😭

-despite the constant anxiety he feels, he low-key enjoys it. It’s kind of hopeless as well as pointless in his honest opinion, but there is this believe, that 0.00001% chance (in his mind) that he could turn his life around and be happy with you, married and maybe have a child of his own one day

-but that’s wishful thinking, riiiiiiight? So what does a self loathing piece of alcoholic man do instead of making a move? Yeah, self pleasure even more than usual, to get at least a bit of serotonin and the willpower to get his shit together, at least for you if it isn’t for him. He’s pretty rough with it too (ouch, unless you’re into that)

-sorry bros but him having a crush is not really all that cute. He’s my cutie pie, but let’s be real: him dealing with those feelings he tried to shut off for so long will be tragic in a way. He’s battling his inner demons here. So yeah… :(

Alex:

-my man, my maaaaan 🥰

-he has earned a soft spot in my heart, bless his soul

-so Alex has a crush on you from the start, it’s basically canon

-can he show his feelings? Yes! Can he do that in a way that can be read as the feelings he tries to get across to you? NO!

-low-key bullying is his love language 🥰

-at least in the beginning. He’s a bit anxious and fears he isn’t good enough for you, so he doesn’t try to be authentic. Being the jock jerk everyone expects him to be gets a reaction out of you and that’s better than nothing, right?

-he’s neither the poetic nor the intellectual type, so he doesn’t process his emotions by writing them down or putting them into words. Just imagine him going about his work-out routine, just thinking about your beautiful smile and rocking bod while sweating like a hog

-Alex and quiet ? Yes that’s possible. I imagine him to go quieter than usual since having a crush on you. He processes everything internally and that takes a lot of time for him as he usually just shrugs off his emotions and doesn’t try to brood too much on them. But now?! He can’t but blush in silence as he just imagines how soft and small your hands must be next to his (yours are way more impressive than his and calloused to the gods, but let him have this moment)

-when it comes to being nasty…Alex is a serial romantic. We know that he probably was the lady’s man back in school so he probably got some action one way or another. In other words, man has the libido of a teen that just hit puberty 💀

-despite being quite horny, he was able to manage to just do it every other day. Now, he cannot even get out of bed in the morning before doing it as you pester his dreams and make his hormones go crazy first thing in the morning…so many nice boxer shorts were lost along the way 🫡

-he also did his own laundry for the first time during that period lmfao

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv shane #sdv bachelors #sdv Alex #sdv Sam #sdv Elliott #sdv Harvey #sdv sebastian #sdv headcanons #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley shane #Stardew valley Sam #stardew valley sebastian #Stardew valley Elliott #Stardew valley Alex

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lovearthur · 23 days

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hi dev!!! long time no … Ask … if reqs r open, could u maybe do an arthur x reader where they r not dating or together yet, but there’s definitely romantic tension from both sides? nd arthur is just … so insanely in love with reader he can’t even hide it anymore 😭 doting on her at every second, just waiting for u to need help with anything, even the simplest of tasks so he can step up and help u. he literally Worships the ground u walk on and would cartwheel on a floor of bear traps if it meant you’d look his way. he truly cannot hide it anymore!!! HE LOVES U SO!!!

-🧸

𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! afab/fem!reader . hyperfem(?) reader . reader is shorter than arthur . sweet tooth rotting fluff . based in horseshoe overlook . talking ab arthur's ex lovers . reader's head over heels for the big outlaw . arthur's head over heels for reader . arthur being a huge sweetheart

his heart was for u that he could barely call it his own. even his soul had ur name written all over it.

he was afraid of love. in the way that it terrified him to be rejected. in his younger years, he adored his first love, eliza. they even had a child, isaac, before he lost them both for a measly ten dollars. his second love, mary, didn't go the way he hoped either. they were just too different. arthur was a rough and tough cowboy while mary... she was too much of a high society lady to be seen with him. she adored him with everything she had, arthur even took good care of her and her younger brother, jamie by teaching him how to ride a horse. yet, mary's father didn't like arthur.. her father saw him as scum of the world, that arthur was 'too rough' for a lady of her status.

to be seen nothing more than just a ruthless and mean man, the most evil and intimidating outlaw in the states. love was just something he couldn't get right, especially since he grew up in a gang. yes, he'd show his appreciation to others in his own way, but that's not the same, is it?

but oh, [name]... u were different. he didn't know why, but it was like u had him wrapped around ur little finger. he was love-struck by u. although, he wasn't sure how u felt about him. u were sometimes hard to read well just like him too. he adored u so much that even the fellas slowly began to take notice. but none were worse than the girls at camp. mary-beth and tilly were always relentlessly teasing arthur about u. ur pretty face could be seen sketched into his journal more than one page. he'd always look at u with love in his eyes as he watched u. just in case u need any help with chores. because what if u struggled with something and he wasnt nearby to help? he was the lead enforcer so when he was in camp, he tried his best not to act like a lost puppy, following u.

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one of ur chores included feeding the horses. it was a big patch so u weren't sure if u'd mange urself. usually one of the girls would help u but theyre still doing their chores. so u were alone or so u thought.

“y'need help there, young lady?” he'd ask with his rough voice as his big hands hold his belt as he's looking down at u. “yeah that'd be kind, thank ya, arthur.” u say with a smile on ur face as he picks up the hay for u. u both make ur way to the horses to attend to them. “'course. i don't mind helpin' ye out.” and he was helping u out, to make sure ms. grimshaw didn't yell at u or anything.

“dont think the fellers would believe me if i said that big, bad arthur was helpin' me out with chores.” u teased him as he placed down the hay for the horses. a chuckle leaves his lips, and he dusts hid hand before looking at u. “yeah well ain't like yer gonna say a word, ye troublemaker.” he replies with that cocky look on his face.

there was always a sort of... romantic tension between the two of u but nothing would come of it.

╚═══════════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════════════════╝

now he was staring at u again. hesitating on the idea to give u gift. he didn't steal but he didn't exactly pay either. it was more of a... impulse decision. since love does make u do wild things. the necklace was sliver with blue diamond as the main attraction. he was so sure of himself that u would like it but often his self-doubt would get there first. what if u didnt like it? what if u would just laugh in his face nd tell him its pathetic? what if...

u were standing by the edge of camp by the hilltop, admiring the view of what nature had to offer in a world like this. u blurred out the noise from camp, making ur entire focus on natute itself. u watched birds fly by, soon to be hit by envy as they're ever so free. u often wanted to gain the same free feeling, but since the pinktertons and lawmen were always on the gang's back, u were never getting that freedom. ever. a small carriage rode past, and u always imagined urself in high society, what that would be like. it was a funny thought, a girl like u in a long dress with frill and laces that showed off ur wealth. then again, u didn't think u would properly fit in with those... uptight, snobby folk. u weren't like them. not one bit.

“... y'alrigh' there, missy?” u hear a hoarse voice ask u, and u know that tone from anywhere. “mhm. 'm fine, arthur. how did it go?” u ask him in return as u turn to look up at him. he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. he was away from camp for a while from the request of dutch, of course. he came back a while ago, though he was just hesitating to talk to u. “it went fine. y'know the usual, get what we need 'nd come back without lawmen followin'.” he said, keeping his blue-green eyes fixed on u. oh, u were such a sweet girl. he had no idea what he did to deserve u at all. “'course.. yer good at what ye do. no doubt 'bout it, ya criminal.” u say with a small smile creeping onto ur face from ur teasing words which did earned a chuckle from him. he was so, so attractive. “yer quite the little minx ain't ya?” he teased u in return. he was good at hiding what he felt for u. he'd even fight off a bear if it meant u would look at him. hell, he worships the ground u walk on. u were flawless in his eyes. u were perfect.

“'course I am. learned all that mischief from ya, cowboy.” u teased back with a giggle. u and him had a good bond. he had ur back, and he had urs. u looked at him for a few more moments, studying the scar on his chin, his rough skin, just everything about him. he was so... handsome, and real kind. u didn't understand how he didn't have a woman who waited for his return. yet in his eyes, ur the woman that he promised he'd always return to. “yer somethin' else, girl.” he replied as a small laugh left his lips.

oh, u can't even imagine how much more he fell in love with u as each day passed. he continued to greet and check up on u everytime he returns to camp, to give to u hot and comforting coffee on cold misty mornings, his not-so subtle glances and stares at u. yet, the one girl who wouldn't let this go is mary-beth. she teased u and she teased arthur relentless. mary-beth always hoped for u and arthur to be together, to be sweet on each other. of course both of u always denied it but mary-beth was determined that one day u two will be fully sweet on each other.

one day, u will tell him how u feel.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #🧸

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howtofightwrite · 2 years

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How physically active were actually "medieval" noble women? I know is a long period but I usually see people complaning about noble women in fantasy doing stuff such as hunting or riding horses. I have seen a couple of illustrations of fencing manuals with women in them too.

We, as a culture, especially in the US, have a very bad habit of using the British Regency/Victorian era as the gold standard for how women all over the world were treated throughout history. And the truth is, it ain’t that way. It never was, because women in this exact era used to duel each other in other parts of Europe and often did it topless.

Yes, this is real. We have records of it.

Was it all women, all the time? No. Was it often enough to mention? Yes.

There’s a really good article by Kameron Hurley, “Women Have Always Fought” that goes over the history of women warriors and the laziness of specular fiction in detail. This is a particularly great few paragraphs from the article that covers where our popular conception that women don’t fight comes from.

“Women have always fought,” he said. “Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”

I had no idea what to say to this. I had been nurtured in the U.S. school system on a steady diet of the Great Men theory of history. History was full of Great Men. I had to take separate Women’s History courses just to learn about what women were doing while all the men were killing each other. It turned out many of them were governing countries and figuring out rather effective methods of birth control that had sweeping ramifications on the makeup of particular states, especially Greece and Rome.

Half the world is full of women, but it’s rare to hear a narrative that doesn’t speak of women as the people who have things done to them instead of the people who do things. More often, women are talked about as a man’s daughter. A man’s wife.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Check out some of these real women below.

Empress Maude, the daughter of the English King, Henry I, was named her father’s heir after her brother died. While her cousin Stephen stole the throne after her father’s death, she raised an army and took the country into a civil war to take it back. They fought it out for the decade it took for her son to reach adulthood, and laid the groundwork for Henry II to become king. There’s a great novel by Sharon Kay Penman, When Christ and His Saints Slept which chronicles the civil war. If you’re interested in medieval history, I recommend reading it. Her daughter-in-law, Eleanor of Aquitaine, also led an interesting life. (It should be said, real history got to the denied female heir fights for her throne before George R.R. Martin.)

There’s great videos from Xiran Jay Zhao discussing the Chinese warrior queen Fu Hao of the Shang Dynasty and Wu Zetian, who became China’s first female emperor. (Yes, you read that right. Emperor.)

There is Khutulun, the Wrestler Princess and the great-great granddaughter of Gengis Khan, who is one source of our “defeat her in battle to marry her” tropes. She issued this challenge, “defeat her in wrestling, she’ll marry.” She scammed would be suitors out of 10,000 horses. Western male authors are so threatened by Khutulun, they’ve kept trying to rewrite her history by making her fall victim to the power of love. (No, seriously.)

There’s also Hojo Masako, the Buddhist nun who deposed her own son when he proved incompetent and ruled Japan as Shogun. Here’s her wiki entry too.

The Amazons of Greek Myth were real in that they were actual Scythian women who went to war. (As Scythian women did, just like their men.) They terrified and terrorized the Greeks so much, they became immortalized in their mythology. Don’t believe me? Here’s an article from National Geographic and this one from Live Science.

There’s stories like this all throughout history from big events to small ones. (You can find more over at Rejected Princesses if you’re interested.) There are female warriors, female generals, noblewomen who took command of their husbands’ forces, widows who took to the sea to get revenge on those who wronged them, women who rode with their husbands to battle, female assassins, female leaders of rebellions, etc. The women of the Japanese samurai class were trained to fight, and fight they did. Women warriors, queens, and politicians are all over mythology too. You’ll often see these women come out of the upper echelons of society because money creates options, but they are there. Many of those stories are lost to history, in some cases purposefully, and there was a long trend among archeologists that assumed because a person was buried with male grave goods, the body had to be male. We’re now finding out that isn’t true. There’s a significant portion of warrior corpses that have turned out to be female. Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla chose to post a notice about it in response to these exact criticisms you’re questioning.

Those people you see complaining online? They’re clinging to a version of history that doesn’t exist. More, we know it doesn’t, because popular culture is hungry to the point of desperate for aggressive, confident, and competent female characters. If they were truly a lie, they wouldn’t ring true for so many people.

The history we’re taught today largely downplays women’s achievements, contributions, and successes while uplifting those of men. It’s a fact. Go look at famous female figures anywhere, you’ll find the same story at play over and over. Historically, fantasy as a genre largely portrays a world that is, in fact, fantasy, but that fantasy has nothing to do with women doing things they’re not “supposed” to. There’s no clubhouse. There’s nothing unrealistic in imagining your female character is a kickass queen who defeats overconfident men in wrestling competitions and robs them of all their horses. It’s not unrealistic to come up with an ending that doesn’t conclude in tragedy, violent deaths, them “learning their place,” or even locked within the bonds of an unhappy marriage. (Shocker!) Some did, but the truth isn’t universal. It’s not even unrealistic to imagine they might have supportive male family members, love interests, and followers who happily (gasp) assist them in these endeavors. Maude, for reference, had bastard half-brothers who helped her instead of trying to take the throne for themselves.

History got here before fantasy authors. There’s nothing unrealistic about reality. Popular conceptions and common knowledge fed to us by the majority male dominated culture isn’t always the truth. Reality is, it’s the stories we see normalized across the media spectrum that are wrong. The ones that insist women are objects, who commodify their pain, and reframe their stories to ensure the focus remains on men. While this is changing, women are still often treated as the NPCs of male driven stories.

The people you hear complaining? They want storytelling traditions to stay that way, for the Great Man values countless narratives have reinforced to remain unchallenged. Funny as it sounds, they’re threatened by the very existence of narratives that countermand that centralized focus on men being superior, that there is a stratified gender hierarchy, and men taking their place as the sole, worshipful focus of a woman’s existence, much less these female characters being important in their own narratives. If these people weren’t threatened by female characters being people, they wouldn’t say anything. They’d just move on in apathy.

Reality is people are complicated. There’s room for all stripes in all colors and contexts. It’s no secret that history has suppressed and erased countless stories that don’t support the ruling narrative of the dominant culture. These same people forget there’s plenty of storytelling traditions that include women taking their place as warriors in cultures outside America. For all the sexism and misogyny, women fighting is not an alien concept, it’s not even foreign to other Western European traditions.

Believe what your own research is showing you, not what a bunch of idiots who can’t tell their ass from their elbow are whining about. They can’t handle someone who isn’t straight, male, and (most often) white being the central focus. Really, they can’t handle these characters as even a side focus. That’s their loss, it doesn’t have to be yours.

-Michi

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#Michi answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #history

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prettyoatmeal · 1 year

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There's a First Time for Everything (König x Reader)

Hello again. This is a sort of part 2 for my last post, however it isn't needed to understand this one. That one was fluff, this one is a smut... whose horse is that 🤭? Reader is GN again (implied Hungarian, cursing) but they have AFAB anatomy, sorry to anyone who that doesn't apply to. I'm also sorry that this is super drawn out and super long, I just thought it would be cute.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Smut!!! Sexual content and innuendos. You both top each other for a little while, tummy bulge, creampie, slight mommy and breeding kink towards the end, mentions of becoming pregnant, praise, size difference, mention of the babygirl-ification of König, and his first time doing the devil's tango. Reader has a few insecurities with their body but it's not in depth..

SUMMARY: You and König have your first time together, König's first time ever. He gets a little.. carried away. He calls you mommy.

Word Count: 2700

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Masterlist here!

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Over the course of establishing a formal relationship with König, you'd find yourself often craving him more and more. Of course you two haven't ever gone all the way yet during those intimate make-out sessions between you two, you both were too nervous for that still. Throughout these make-out sessions, you'd come to identify a lot of the things which could turn König on. He loves it when you take control. Sure he could very easily force you to submit due to his sheer size, but he could never do such a thing, he couldn't bring himself to. He's too afraid to hurt you. Calling him your good boy and 'baby girl' will also get him going. You once called him baby girl as a joke. That was until he asked you to say it again and it was no longer a joke. Now you two are hoping that no one has overheard you calling the 6'10 army man who has killed hundreds of people 'baby girl' or you know you're never going to hear the end of it. He'd mentioned to you that he hadn't ever had sex with someone before, but that didn't matter to you. You still loved him. However, even so, you've begun to imagine him inside you, or if it were his fingers touching you while you while you'd be going down on yourself more often. His bulge is very prominent even if he wasn't turned on so it would most definitely crowd your mind during your personal time. Usually you'd listen to some audio porn and use your imagination to get yourself off, but this time it was different. It felt different. Thinking about him drove you nuts, your libido becoming higher with each time you'd get yourself off, and your orgasms becoming more satisfying than they were before.

You wouldn't bring it up as you didn't mind waiting. You were too nervous to go all the way anyway, you both were. Especially if he were to feel even just a little disappointed with you how look under all your clothes. Not curvy enough or too thick in the stomach area. You'd always had a bad relationship with your looks, body dysmorphia more common on some days than the rest. But that still didn't stop you from fantasising each night about how it would feel as he slides in and out of you with deep, sloppy thrusts, soft moans and whimpers leaving his mouth, your bodies moving together as one.

However, your fantasies would soon become a reality after one night you two were spending the night together once you two had gotten back from a mission. Spending the night over at his so you two could be together without a worry in the world, it had gotten a little frisky. It had gone from soft kisses on the couch while watching whatever show was showing on the tele, to you on top of him, practically sucking his face off as you barely paid any attention to whatever nonsense the TV was airing. You'd pull away from him, his dark eyes full of both love and lust which was awfully obvious without even looking at his face if It were uncovered. At this point it would be nice to mention that both of you were still clothed in your uniforms as you were too eager and unwilling to waste time in something so minor when you could be on top of him instead.

And that was currently happening. You were on top of him, his hands on either of your thighs as he tries to not grip too hard on them. They fit perfectly in his large hands, even if your thighs were on the thicker side. Which was a little scary and really put into perspective how big this man really was. If his hands were that big.. then that would mean-

"I've missed this... Mous." He'd say through his soft panting. You can already feel how hard he is as you sit nicely on his lap.

"I've missed this as well, Bear." You'd reply as you slowly began to move your hips back and forth, earning a small whimper from the man under you as his large hands moved upward to your fleshy hips and grabbing onto them to help you grind onto him.

"Please, Mous.. (Y/N)..." He'd breathe out in a shaky manner as he looked up at you with his beautiful blue eyes, the table lamp in the room providing just the right amount of light so it reflects and makes his iris' sparkle. Lips curling into a smile, you place another small kiss onto his uncovered lips, taking your thumb and wiping away your spit from them after you've pulled away.

"Please what, hmm?" You'd asked, "what are you asking for, baby girl?"

That statement alone, you calling him your 'baby girl', would've made his knees give in if he weren't laying down. Lucky for you two, you were still on the couch, and probably will be staying there until you're done. It definitely wasn't something he would've believed he'd enjoy being called. If he told himself back when he first joined the military that he'd end up being called 'baby girl' by his partner and loving it, he would not believe himself. He swallowed as his nerves kicked in, readying himself for what's about to happen.

"More,, please." König replied as his grip on your soft hips tightened, pressing you down onto him more along with a small whine he had let out in the midst of the action. Your clothes began to get more and more in the way with every movement of your hips, barely stimulated either of you. You two couldn't help it anymore, and so the trousers came off. And by god, was he massive. It put you into a shock. It also really put into perspective at how small you are compared to him. You always knew this, it was no surprise he was bigger than you. But now looking at the even more prominent bulge in his boxers really puts it into perspective that he's massive in more ways than one. You knew it would hurt.

König noticed your eyes staring and looked away in full embarrassment. This was his first time, he'd still been a virgin prior to this. He wasn't at all interested in relationships before you came along, so he had no reason to call up and pay a girl just so they could fuck. He'd watched porn before, but porn doesn't depict real life. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say, how to move his hands, anything. All he knows is that the guys stay quiet, and the girls start screaming the moment they get any sort of stimulation. But you weren't like that. You were real, you're not an actor, you weren't getting paid for this. You were doing this because you love him and want to feel him. And in all honesty, that just made him want to fuck you even more.

Your moans become more audible as your clothed genitalia keep grinding together, in long, sloppy moves, only those infinitely thin knickers separating you two from each other.

"Please, please, please, please, please!" He'd beg and beg, "please, (Y/N). Just do... something, anything!" he'd continue to beg as his accent got thicker in anticipation and arousal. At this point, you could count on it that your own wetness would be enough 'lube' for the session. You've already soaked through your underwear and if they weren't already awfully dirty, your trousers would require a deep cleaning as well. Your hunger for König grew. You knew what had to be done.

You two ditched the rest of the uniforms quickly. Your face grew a redder colour as you uncovered your torso, hoping that König wouldn't dislike how your body looked. You weren't exactly the most body confident person either, however, you swore you could see his pupils transform into hearts as they gazed upon the sheer beauty you.

"Can I touch you?" He asked as you'd reply with a nod. His hands begun to roam upward, massaging your waist, moving up to your chest and bra, then to your shoulders as he played with the straps. Soon it was his turn. You stared at him in awe as he even removed his hood for you. You had always loved seeing his face, even if it was a rarer occurrence now that you keep getting called in for missions. You two took in the sight of each other’s bodies, König's hands still wandering as your finger tips traced each little (or big) scar on his chest, lip, arms. It was a lot to take in at once.

With weak bounces, you 'd continued to raise and lower yourself on König's cock, it barely fitting inside you as is. Your eyes rolled back at every bounce as König slowly lost his mind. Feeling your walls wrap tightly around his length drove him crazy, audible, girlish moans escaping his mouth as you tried to keep your cool and keep yourself together. Fucking hell was he huge, filling you up nicely with a small bulge visible on your lower abdomen, indicating how huge it was. It took a while to get used to, though after the pain had fully subsided, you two were already hot and sweaty and moaning into each other’s mouths. His hips bucked upwards with every bounce, trying to get as much stimulation as possible. His eyes were fixed on looking deep into yours, unable to bring himself to look away apart from a few times where he'd squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds from the sheer pleasure he'd been experiencing. He absolutely loved watching your face as you'd ride him.

"That's it," You'd say with every louder moan König would let out, stuttering a few times or so from the pleasure you're also feeling. "Such a good boy for m-me, König. Would you like me to go faster?" His face was completely lost in the pleasure as you let your hips bounce faster, only able to muster up a small nod. A fast paced, wet, squelching noise soon filled the room along with the loud echo of skin slapping together. Your bodies move together as König's hips thrust upward with every time you lower yourself onto his cock, keeping a consistent rhythm as you both got closer and closer to your releases.

"Fuck,, Mous, mgh.. s-so close." He'd mutter out among the nonsensical babbles you couldn't understand. You stared down at his chest and at how quick his breaths had become.

"You f-feel so good inside me, my love. Looking so pretty like this under me." And he did. Your eyes roamed as a smile formed on your face, the same man which had easily killed hundreds of people was underneath you letting out those girlish moans which made your heart beat like crazy. That was when his breath hitched and his eyes finally looked away from the embarrassment as he got flustered, the grip on your waist unintentionally becoming tighter, "so deep, filling me up, creating a small bump in my stomach with your cock,,"

His eyes immediately darted down to where the bulge is as he hadn't noticed it too much before, the pure sight of it almost making him cum inside you instantly as he swallows. You're almost unable to react as after a second, you're no longer on top of him. That fucker flipped you two over. A small, very exciting panic washed over you as you anticipated what'd happen next. Thats when he'd begin to thrust into you like never before, the change of position causing you to let out a heavy moan.

"Oh, Liebling,," He'd moan out as he began to thrust inside you at an almost inhumane speed, chasing your orgasms. Every time he thrust inside you, that ticking time bomb in your stomach got closer and closer to exploding. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for your dear life as the most unholy noises escaped both of your mouths. Feeling that oh so familiar burn in your abdomen, your orgasm creeped closer and closer as your boyfriend thrust into you relentlessly, pounding you into the sofa. His hands dig into your hips to stabilise them.

"Look at you, Liebling, look at how you look under me!" He let out a broken but triumphant chuckle as he fucked you silly. His thrusts are those of an amateur, but he was trying his damn best and he was doing a great job. You're surprised both of you had lasted this long.

"How w-would you feel if I made you into a mommy, huh?" he'd asked, making your head spin like crazy. Bloody hell, it was only this fucker's first time and he'd already busted out the mommy shit. Heat of the moment you'd suppose.

"Muss schwängern.. muss fü- shit, mfphh-" He'd cut himself off, unable to finish his sentence with those moans and curses of his. You could feel how his cock twitched inside you, indicating how close he is. "Ach scheiße,, mommy," he'd manage to mutter out with that thick accent you loved. "Fuck, mommy, please!" Those moans echo in your ears, that burning becoming more intense. He couldn't control what was exiting his mouth anymore.

"Ó, b-baszús,," was the only way you could respond as you could feel yourself flying off to heaven the moment König's hand travels down to massage your swollen clit.

"Ach, m-mommy please, please, please," He'd beg, "I'm so close, please! I need to cum inside you so bad,," his thrusts become sloppier, stickier, wetter as that mixture of your wetness and his pre-cum had seeped onto the skin on your thighs, those slapping noises loud and moist. You had nothing left in you, you couldn't even say anything from how overwhelmed you were from the sheer force of his thrusts, his cock exploring every nook and crevice inside you. It was as if he was about to push through your cervix.

You manage to moan out his name on last time as those words of his push you over the edge.

"Oh, König!" You'd exclaim, the feeling of the orgasm you've been chasing finally washing over you. "Yes,, ahh, fuck~!" You'd manage to choke out before his lips crash onto yours. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly as that heavenly, euphoric feeling finally hit you like a truck, your back arching at the continuation of your boyfriends thrusts. König let out a low 'Thats it, good girl,' as you'd reached your high. Your arms grip onto him for your dear life as you've just experienced the most intense orgasm of your life. He makes you ride out your orgasm before his cock twitches again at how your walls had tightened around him. This causes him to thrust into you like a savage animal in heat, breeding you as best he could.

"Oh my- fuckk, Eng, s-so fucking Eng." The way he'd mix his German vocabulary into English made your heart almost skip a beat. Your foreheads press together as choke out small sobs from being so overstimulated post-orgasm. "My love, I'm so close-" Was the last thing he could say before he roughly pulled your hips up into him and burying his cock deep inside you, filling you up with his thick cum, and letting out the most shameless, broken moan he could, his voice cracking mid-moan. The bulge in your stomach showed prominently as he came inside you, his voice shaking.

"Ich Liebe dich,, so much." He'd breathe to you, placing a final soft kiss onto your lips as you two recovered from your orgasms. You were completely out of breath as his thrusting slowly stopped. It took you both a good while to recover, your mind was definitely blank for a while.

"So, I was your first, huh?"

He looked away sheepishly, flustered, feeling a little bad for how roughly he treated you tonight.

"Oh, hush," he'd say out of embarrassment before his soft lips met yours again.

***************

Sorry, I've come to realise this fic is way too fucking long and probably no one is going to read it. I literally just wrote this for myself yet I couldn't be bothered either. Congratulations if you made it to the end without being tremendously bored and clicking away. You get a gold star, good job, my love ⭐️

Goodnight, everyone.

#könig headcanons #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #call of duty #konig cod #Konig mw2 #Konig x reader #König x reader #König fluff #König imagines #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Konig fluff #König smut #Konig smut #mw2 smut

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the-boy-meets-evil · 5 months

Text

all i want for christmas - xmh (the8)

(where you want minghao for secret santa so you can prove he's not really that hard to buy something for.)

pairing: minghao (the8) x gn!reader genre: friends to lovers | fluff rating: sfw (but i still don't want minors interacting) word count: ~1.8k warnings: none, really. this is just fluff and a secret santa exchange. no pronouns used for reader.

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 14 - secret santa 💕 i'm also counting this as a drabble.

“Are you sure you want to trade for him?” Mingyu asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“For the last time, yes,” you huff out.

Are you actually sure? No. But, this plan has to work. Every year you and your whole friend group draw names for Secret Santa. This year, you were really hoping to get Minghao. For a lot of reasons you’re not trying to share with Mingyu. Thankfully, he’s terrible at keeping secrets from you and had instantly whined about getting the hardest friend. He’s relieved you want to trade, even if he’s also a little suspicious. Not suspicious enough to hold onto the most difficult person to buy for, though.

“Your funeral,” he says with a shrug. “Who’d you have again?”

“Seulgi,” you remind him.

“Oh that’s so easy. She leaves notes about what she wants everywhere,” he says, satisfaction plain on his face.

“So does Minghao, if you know where to look,” you add, keeping it a little vague.

“If you so say,” he says.

Mingyu’s not suspicious enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Literally. Minghao is famous in your friend group for being difficult to buy presents for. Famous for not even pretending to like a present. You wonder how many presents he’s taken back in exchange for something that he wants more. Which does make the whole thing a little more daunting, especially because you’re not supposed to spend over a certain amount. That’s the whole premise of doing a Secret Santa with your friends. It’s so that you don’t have to go broke buying presents because you have a lot of friends. Of course, you’re all older now than when you started as broke university students. Still, it’s nice to hold onto the tradition.

Now that you’ve switched, you’re nervous. Everything in your plan got you to the point of switching (and kind of how to pull off the perfect gift within your budget). You haven’t considered what he’ll say or what you’re going to say to him. Or if you’re even going to admit what you went through to make sure you had him in the exchange. You know you should just rip the band-aid off. Easier said than done, though.

The reality is that you want to be the one to give Minghao a present for a lot of reasons. You want to be able to get him something he’ll actually like. To show him that you listen to him and you know him. To show him that he’s not actually that bad to buy for, because you can tell it gets to him sometimes. That he thinks he’s just difficult, which he definitely is, but there’s more to him than that. There’s also the biggest reason you wanted to pull his name. That you have a giant crush on him. One you’re shocked he hasn’t picked up on and just as shocked other friends haven’t seemed to pick up on, either. Well, except for Seulgi. Then again, she never misses a beat. It’s useful that she knows, too, since you’re planning to ask her for help in securing the perfect gift.

(Seulgi comes through, like the actual best friend in the world, with a killer discount on a beautiful designer scarf. Minghao hasn’t eyed that exact one, but you think you know him well enough to know that it’s still something he’ll like. It fits seamlessly into his style and it’s the kind of thing you can easily see him buying for himself. True to her word and the plan, Seulgi set aside several pieces that were returned because the brand had really weird rules about reselling things that left the store. They take returns because of the goodwill with customers, but never resell the items even close to full price.)

When it comes time to actually exchange gifts, you’re a little nervous again. Didn’t think it through that you do this as a group, so everyone will see what everyone else got. Including the care put into your present for Minghao and the obvious, at least to you, significance. As if sensing your nerves, Seulgi shoots you a warm smile, then directs you to take a couple breaths.

“I get to open my present first, right?” Soonyoung calls out. He’s already looking through the presents on the table.

“You go first every year,” Seungcheol points out.

“Right, so it’s tradition,” Soonyoung agrees.

“Or maybe someone else could go…” Seungcheol starts.

“Got it!” Soonyoung calls.

“Just let him have it,” Seulgi laughs out.

As it turns out, she had him and got him a silly tiger plush and also a ticket to go to a drive through safari experience where they had tigers. Unsurprisingly, it’s a strong start and Soonyoung is thrilled. Seulgi opens her present next and it carries on just as well. It seems that everyone likes their presents, at least so far. Though, someone makes a joke that Minghao hasn’t gotten his yet. You’re still deep in thought and worry when you finally realize that your friends are trying to get your attention. It seems like it’s your turn to go next. Still somewhat lost in thought, you find your present. It’s easier because there aren’t many left and one of them is the one you bought.

The second you open your present, it’s all you can think about. It’s a beautifully decorated scrapbook, so carefully put together that it almost makes you want to tear up. You start flipping through the pages and it’s like walking through all your favorite memories with your closest friends. The road trips and the sporting events. Concerts and beach days. Bonfires and drunken parties. A complete catalog of your best memories, without you even having to tell whoever made it. Each page is uniquely decorated without it being overdone. As you’re flipping through each page, you notice that there’s one person in more pictures than anyone else. Minghao. Is it that obvious to whoever made this that you have feelings for him?

“I hope you like it,” Minghao says and he actually sounds nervous.

You look up at him, surprised. “You did this?”

“Yeah, I realized after I wrapped it that I forgot to include a card,” he admits.

“This is honestly the best gift I’ve ever gotten, thank you,” you say sincerely.

Seungcheol breaks the moment with a laugh. “Looks like you’re up next, Hao.”

“Right, yeah,” Minghao says. He clears his throat as he stands up.

It’s a little hard for you to figure out where to look. You’re so enamored with the present you got from Minghao that you want to keep looking through it and appreciating the little details he put in. You find yourself aimlessly running your fingers over the pages. But, you also want to know what he thinks of your present. The real reaction as he opens it. Which does win out as he sits back down with his present on his lap. He’s careful as he unwraps it, almost like he’s preparing for whatever is inside. Over the years, he’s definitely been a little better about reacting to presents. Maybe he’s worried this will be another present like that. You know watching his reaction was absolutely the right choice when his eyes go wide and his mouth opens a little in shock. His fingers run over the fabric carefully before he reaches for the card. The smile when he reads the card is so genuine that your heart melts into a puddle. Maybe it’s more than a crush.

“I don’t know how you did this and stayed under budget, but thank you,” Minghao says with more emotion than you’re expecting.

“Hey, yeah, that’s a foul! You can’t go over our budget just to get him something he wants,” Mingyu argues.

“It wasn’t over budget, I sold the scarf. I have the receipt still,” Seulgi says.

“That’s even worse!” Mingyu argues with a pout.

“You’re just mad that someone finally got Minghao the perfect present,” Seungcheol teases.

“I hate it here,” Mingyu says.

The conversation turns back to the remaining presents. Nobody really seems to have another comment on the moment that passed between you and Minghao over the presents. Neither of you has ever gotten the other for Secret Santa like this and it’s gone much differently than you expected. Instead of feeling nervous, you’re feeling a little hopeful. At least if your present is anything to go off. Minghao’s never put this much effort into a present. Not that you can remember, at least. Maybe, you’re not trying to get ahead of yourself, but maybe he feels a little something more for you as well.

You’re a pretty disengaged from the conversation, especially once everyone finishes opening their presents and things turn to what movie to watch. Instead, you head into the kitchen to get someone to drink, missing the way Minghao’s eyes follow your movement. A little surprised when he appears in the kitchen with you.

“Thank you again,” he says quietly. It still makes you jump a bit.

“Oh!” you gasp. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you liked it. I know it’s kind of simple.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Minghao disagrees. “How did you manage?”

“I told Seulgi that I had you and roughly what I wanted, so she set aside some returns. Only ones that came back immediately and clearly hadn’t been worn,” you rush out.

Minghao’s touch on your arm is gentle, instantly calming. “I’m so thankful you got me.”

“Me too,” you agree. “Well, I didn’t, actually. I traded with Mingyu.”

“You did?” Minghao asks, seeming surprised but also pleased.

“Yeah, I wanted to get you something,” you say.

“I did, too,” he answers softly. “But, I was lucky enough to just draw your name.”

“Your present was amazing. I meant it, it’s one of the best I’ve ever gotten,” you whisper.

“It’s what you deserve. I know I didn’t spend much,” Minghao starts.

“No, it’s everything. I can’t imagine how much time you must’ve put into this. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me,” you assure him, eyes soft on his.

“You deserve only thoughtful things,” he tells you.

“You, too,” is all you can say.

“Do you think, well, would it be weird if we got dinner sometime?” he asks and you can’t hide the shock.

“Let’s go, you two!” Seungcheol calls.

“Like a date?” you ask, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“Forget it, it’s weird,” he backtracks. When he starts to leave, you grab his arm.

“Yeah, I’d love to, but only if it’s actually a date,” you tell him. If you thought the smile over his present was big, this is infinitely bigger.

“How about right now?” he presses.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” you agree.

“Then, let’s go,” he says, hand held out for you.

And you take it. It’s one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made. You didn’t even have to tell him that you’d been thinking of asking him the same thing. The holidays truly can be so magical.

i hope you liked it! please let me know your thoughts or give it a reblog if you enjoyed it 💕

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weirdmorefics · 5 months

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bridgerton sister ran away just before the beginning of her season and discovered by Colin in St Petersburg under a fake identity and bought back home

The Familiar Barmaid

x bridgerton!sister

Pronouns- She/her

Warning- Mother issues

Word Count- 933

Summary- The reader wants to be an author, but unfortunately, she has a season to get back to.

Y/n Bridgerton had never dreamed of being married like her other sisters (Eloise excluded). Y/n loved reading, she imagined her own stories and stashed her written stories under her bed. She craved to be an author like the ones who made the books she admired. Her mother however had other plans for her since day one; come out, become the diamond of the season, and be courted by a handsome gentleman I loved who hopefully had an amazing title. I never craved that life I much preferred to live in the fantasy worlds I created in my head. This leads us to my escape from the Bridgerton household the night before my season.

I had packed the most important things to me; my writings, my favorite books, and the leftover money I had been saving from my gown fittings. I quietly took my horse out of the stable at night and rode the horse to a place no one would know Y/n Bridgerton.

I rode my horse for as far as she could go taking breaks in dingy inns that my Mother wouldn't dare to step foot in. By the time I was in St Petersburg, I was already short on funds. It was a better place to settle than most it had gorgeous views and so many new things to write about. As luck would have it the bar in town was looking for a barmaid. Unfortunately, the bar owner could tell very easily that I had no experience. Shockingly he gave me a chance! He said I reminded him of his daughter who recently married so her room above the bar was also available. It felt like fate like I had been sucked into my very own fantasy book.

I spent my days writing in the nearby park and the nights dealing with town drunks. Honestly, they weren't too bad just demanding their drinks. I learned quickly and I became their favorite barmaid only because I made the drinks the fastest but it still made me feel accomplished. It was a bittersweet feeling to have the town drunks appreciate me more than my mother but at least I was appreciated.

I felt true relief once the season was over no longer worried they would find me and make me a last-minute entry. The bar was just closing and I was washing the grimy tables when the chime of the door startled me. The man was bundled his scarf nearly covering his whole face.

I turned to him and frowned politely "I am so sorry sir we are just closing."

The man gasps once he hears me speak "Y/N?"

I quickly back up accidentally sending a chair to the ground with a loud thud, "I think you have the wrong woman sir."

My boss exits the backroom at the commotion, "This fella bothering you Rose?"

"Are you serious Y/n? Rose? Be a little more original," the man unwraps his scarf and my fists immediately tighten.

"Colin, what are you doing here?" I practically growl.

"You know this man Rose? Seems a little too uptight for you, but I am not here to judge your taste in suitors." My boss chuckles finding his comment hilarious.

Colin gags, "That is my little sister I'll have you know! And I am bringing you right home Mother has been worried sick about you!"

I roll my eyes "She probably did not even know about my absence until Lady Whistledown announced it. How did she cover it up? Am I in the States visiting my cousins?"Colin's face turns beat red which tells me I am right.

Colin tries to change the subject, "Your sisters miss you dearly, Daphne was devasted you were not there for her wedding."

I gasped, "Daphne is already married! The season just ended!"

Colin rubbed his arm, "There were a lot of issues with this season Y/n… honestly we all could have used some of that Y/n wisdom. I especially could have used some of that wisdom." He mumbled the last part seeming very embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh, Colin… I am so sorry. I miss my siblings all dearly but I am not meant for the home carer life. I am meant to be out there writing about anything I can get my hands on." I gesture to the world around me.

"That is one good thing about your departure, no one thinks you are Lady WhistleDown anymore," He smirks.

"Oh what a pity I did like causing fear and scaring the men off with the promise to write about them," I smile.

Colin sighs, "I will make you a deal Y/n, travel with me during my studies. You can explore the world that way, but you must write to Mother and the rest of your siblings and let them know you are safe."

"You know she or Anthony will just drag me back home," I frown.

"Not with me by your side, I am sure I can convince Anthony and she can convince Mama." He smiles as the plan begins to form in his head.

I smiley widely, "You have yourself a deal Colin Bridgerton."

He smiles back as my boss lets out a few stray tears, "You truly are just like my daughter, just as stubborn and hot-headed. Be sure to visit your welcome back anytime."

I gave him a side hug, "Oh boss you big old softie."

Colin laughs, "Y/n you are truly something."

"Why thank you," I take a bow. "Shall we take our leave?"

"We shall," Colin smiles.

#bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x sister reader #bridgerton request #bridgerton reader insert #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader

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lu-dao-writes · 3 months

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— 𝘾𝙤𝙬𝙗𝙤𝙮!𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 A man rejects corporate life and becomes a cowboy.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) No reader (yet), mentions of church but nothing deep, Nanami basically getting adopted by a black couple 😊, cottagecore!nanami(?), cowboy!nanami, quickly typed up.

𝘼/𝙉 I’m getting bad brainrot of this man as a cowboy…So here ya go!!🤠🐎 ༘ ೀ⋆ ꒱ྀི

- Left the corporate world when he finally realized just how shit it is and how he’s unhappy with it and only helping the wealthy in the end.

- Moved to the states and found himself buying an abandoned farm house.

- Nanami likes being productive, so fixing the house little by little was a nice challenge.

- Nanami liked to keep to himself as usual, but it became impossible when he became very close with his neighbors.

- The Johnsons were a married couple who owned a Cajun and Soul food restaurant that was in town. They came to his home with a delicious gift: piping hot, mouthwatering food.

- Nanami couldn’t help but enjoy their company and appreciate their kindness. Especially when he expressed interest in wanting to cook and bake.

- Desiree, aka Mrs Johnson, was delighted to teach Nanami some recipes and they had regularly scheduled meetings, the woman singing praises to the man she likes to call her son.

- And Desmond, Mr Johnson, loved to help Nanami out with fixing up his home and giving him tips for if and when he decides to start adding animals into his life.

- The Johnsons had two kids, but they’re grown. One is more focused on life in the city, and the other… The other is unfortunately a troublemaker that they don’t like to talk too much about.

- The Johnsons were also so very kind enough to offer Nanami a position at their restaurant.

- The town has its annual contests and at first Nanami was content to just watch, but eventually he got pushed to join in. His favorite is the baking contest.

- Once the house was to his liking, Kento finally decided to take in animals, starting off with a hen and a rooster, and a cow.

- He named the rooster after Gojo because of how loud that feathery creature can be, and that’s literally his alarm clock.

- Nanami also got into making food for the community, helping Desiree cook food for the church and for people in need.

- He also did a few odd jobs for people for some side cash and of course to just help.

- He likes that he’s actually contributing to something good for the community.

- Nanami soon got a horse and adopted a stray cat and dog, naming the horse after Geto, the feline after Shoko, and the hound dog was named after Yu.

- Kento enjoys his life. It’s constant work, but he likes to stay busy. He enjoys waking up to care for the animals, visiting the Johnson’s (he definitely was invited to the cookout/family reunion), helping his new community, making wine, knitting, and baking for competitions.

And things get a little more interesting when a new neighbor comes into town…~.

#𝐉𝐉𝐊✩ ̇ ┈•ﾟ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk kento #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #black reader #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #cowboy nanami #kento nanami x reader

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wordywarriorwrites · 28 days

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Feels Like Home

Feels Like Home | AO3 | Rating: M | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x F! Reader

Summary: They say you can't go home again, but maybe for you and Javi, home isn't a place - it's a person.

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language.

Getting Chucho Peña back up on his feet after a bad fall from the hayloft – that was all you’d been tasked to do.

But you hadn’t considered the prodigal son.

You hadn’t thought about all the ways dark, earthen eyes – eyes that had seen too much – could be so compellingly, devastatingly, hauntingly preoccupying. Hadn’t really thought of how the stories of this larger-than-life individual would pale in comparison to the actual person. Hadn’t really believed that this man and this town would get to you, become so much a part of you that you’re thinking about rejecting a career-changing offer that would see you moving on to bigger (though perhaps not exactly better) things.

Four seasons have passed, and yet, you haven’t felt the itch to pack a bag and hit the road. And because you stuck around, Javi, Chucho, and you have become los tres amigos. Reading books and watching Cheers. Exchanging cards and gifts on birthdays and at Christmas. You host dinner at your place once a month. Javi occasionally pops in during your meal break at the hospital to bring you something decent to eat. And sometimes, his dad will call you nenita – a term of endearment that feels far too precious to be directed toward a drifting, wayward soul like you.

It’s hard not to mull over the what-ifs – especially with how Javi looks beneath the sparking lights of the convention center. Exuding confidence, chit-chatting, and mingling with your coworkers like a pro, all understated power and authority. He stays still while everyone else gets pulled into his orbit, revolving slowly around him, like planets circling the sun. He steers you in that way, too, pulling you into his atmosphere, making it painfully impossible to keep your gaze averted from the fine figure he makes in his charcoal gray suit.

This isn’t the first fundraising event he’s escorted you to. In fact, he’s graciously played the role of plus-one several times. Haughty conversations, dry chicken dinners, watered-down drinks, and office politics – he’s been there and done that. And for a man who says he hated it, that he’s left all that bullshit behind, he’s really good at it, reading the room and owning his space within it better than most of your puffed-up peers.

It’s difficult not to admire him. Get attached to him. To feel as if you’ve made a real, true friend. You don’t have many of those and neither does he. It’s as if you’ve somehow been chosen. That out of all the people in the world, he’s picked you.

Bowling on Thursdays. The little snort that sometimes escapes when he laughs. His gentle manner with horses. The scent of his cologne; a blend of leather, wood, and oakmoss. The way he always refuses dessert, but somehow, ends up finding room for two servings, especially if it’s your homemade peach cobbler. His shoulder – the one you lean on when you nod off during a football game. His arm – the one you grip during scary movies. His ear – the one he lets you talk off when the day has been too hard and too bloody, and you can’t fall asleep.

If you leave, you lose it all. You lose him.

“Is it just me,” Javi prompts with a slight nudge, turning away from the inner circle and leaning in close to speak directly into your ear. “Or are all the doctor jokes really fucking terrible this year?”

His voice – low and amused – cuts through the chatter and clinking cutlery, guiding you out of the spiral of dark thoughts and back into the present. You glance up at him and wonder if that inquisitive, clever mind of his has worked out how you really feel and uncovered what you really think. And if he knows, has he just been too polite to say anything? Even if it’s only to let you down gently?

“Maybe you should teach them a thing or two,” you manage to quip, burying your emotions by taking a rather undignified gulp of merlot.

Javi snorts and shakes his head, “With their egos? Not likely. Look, can we get outta here? Go get some real food?”

You nod, placing your now empty wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter, and snagging your purse up from the table. Javi is quick to take your arm and the lead, guiding you both through the throng and a seemingly endless stream of polite farewells. The elevator, the parking garage, the drive-thru – none of it really registers. It’s not until you’ve fallen into the cushions of your couch, a heavy bag of tacos in hand, and two beers on the coffee table in front of you, that your brain gradually starts to come back online.

“M'starving,” Javi announces, snatching up the takeout bag and plopping down next to you. “Remind me next time to eat before I pick you up.”

He peels off his jacket. Kicks off his shoes. Wriggles his sock-covered toes into the plush carpet and sits forward on the cushion just far enough to reach the table. Large, deft hands drop napkins – one onto your knee and one onto his own – and then, he’s unfurling paper and distributing a half dozen oversized carne asada taquerias onto two paper plates. A brief pause. A rather ferocious bite. A long, low groan.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” he mumbles, cheeks puffed out and comically overfilled.

“Emily Post would not be impressed,” you teasingly chide.

Javi grins and juts his chin, “Hey, get my tie? It’s the one you got me for my birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

Once his messy hands are out of the way, you do as he asks, working the knot free and slipping the silk off with a careful tug. You pop a few buttons for him, too, and he gives you a nod of thanks before digging back in with renewed gusto, washing it all down with long pulls on his beer.

You don’t know how he does it, but his steady, calm demeanor always manages to soothe you. You unclench your jaw. Relax your shoulders. Even eat with him. Once the food’s devoured and the mess is cleaned up, you offer him a nightcap that promises to be better than what he’d been served at the fundraiser, and he happily accepts.

With tumblers in hand, the two of you migrate out to the patio. Javi is quick to indulge in his after-dinner smoke, bringing flame to paper-wrapped tobacco with a practiced flick and inhaling deeply. He fills his lungs with nicotine a few more times before turning his attention to his glass, bringing it to his nose before taking a slow sip.

“Dios mio,” he appreciates aloud. “What is this?”

“Macallan,” you tell him.

“That’s damn good whiskey.”

“It ought to be for five grand a bottle.”

Javi chuckles and lets out a low whistle, “You lift it off a truck or something?”

“It was a gift,” you admit, taking a seat on the outdoor bench. “From Brad.”

He blinks slowly, “Your ex?”

You nod and shrug slightly, “Bastard always did have good taste.”

Javi doesn’t pry – he just smokes and paces, seemingly content for you to either share or plead the fifth. You take a sizable gulp for courage and finally tell him about Alaska, about the brand new, state-of-the-art facility, and what an opportunity it is. You explain the position. Tell him it offers better pay and an extremely generous housing stipend. A year there, maybe two, and you’ll have your pick of any hospital you want to work at going forward.

Brad’s presence, his role as department head, his status as your ex-fiancé, the wholly inappropriate “welcome gift” he supposedly sent on behalf of the entire staff – a gift you’re certain was pilfered from his dad’s private collection – none of it matters. You’re going there for work because you go where you’re needed, nothing more.

“Got the papers inside,” you say quietly. “Just gotta sign ‘em.”

Javi curses. Drops the butt of his cigarette into the remaining inch of whiskey. Sets the glass down a little too hard on the window ledge. It’s tense now, the air between you, the atmosphere filling with acridness neither one of you is accustomed to. He rolls his jaw. You tap your nail against the tumbler. Javier runs a hasty palm over his mustache and then, much to your surprise, he sits down next to you.

Your glass is taken and hastily put aside. Slowly, carefully, as if giving you the chance to pull away, Javi slots his fingers between yours. When you don’t protest, he holds on tight and brings your knuckles to his lips. His palm pressed to your palm; he lowers his head until his furrowed brow meets the back of your hand. It’s so achingly, intimately tender, so unexpected and jarring, that makes your eyes well.

You swallow hard and clear your throat, “Look, Javi, I’m –”

“Don’t,” he interjects with a slow, purposeful shake of his head. “Just… Don’t.”

The moment stretches, unbearable with the weight of the unknown, all nerve-wracking and heady at the same time. Javi eventually looks at you – eyes searching and examining and questioning. Head slightly tilted, a wayward chunk of his hair tumbles out of its’ carefully coiffed place, and you don’t consider your actions when you take back your hand to carefully brush it off his forehead.

“I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs.

You frown and stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I don’t want to, either.”

Javi’s fingertips brush your forearm, and when he leans forward, you meet him in the middle. Your mouths join. Lips brushing, breath stolen and returned. The two of you are traversing unmapped and uncharted territory, but it’s so easy. It's as if you’ve been touching like this, kissing like this, for such a long time.

All languid and unhurried until he licks into your mouth, coating your tongue in hints of vanilla, nutmeg, and smoke, and then, you’re both in pursuit of more. Tripping over each other to get back inside. Both of you going for his belt, and then, your underwear – no finesse or thought of the bedroom just steps away because the couch will work just fine.

Knees sunk into the cushions and cheek mashed into an armrest. Heels kicked off and the skirt of your ankle-length dress tugged up over your hips. Javi explores and discovers you from behind, tongue tasting the unmistakable evidence of your desire, and fingers stoking the flame until you’re begging him to put you out of your misery.

“Condoms,” you croak, gesturing blindly. “In my work bag.”

A low growl. Nips and licks and sucks to the back of your thighs, the curve of your hip, the rounds of your shoulders. You’re melting to the floor, rolling into your back, eyes barely able to focus as he snatches up your battered canvas tote and upends it, the contents spilling out messily and noisily across the carpet.

“Preparing for an orgy?” he teases, letting the line of rubbers unfurl above your head.

“Shut up,” you sass, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You know I had to teach that sex ed class today.”

“Did the hospital supply bananas?”

“Actually, it was cucumbers.”

Javi laughs. Tears open the package. Rucks up his shirt. You watch, gaze hooded as he slides the rubber on. You toss out a compliment to his technique, and he flushes, all hasty to push your legs apart and make room for himself between your splayed thighs.

“It’s been – I haven’t done this in a while,” you admit, bravado lessening slightly.

Javi clicks his tongue, thumbs making small circles on your kneecaps, “Me, neither, cariño. Been saving myself for you.”

Your spluttered laugh brings out his hidden dimples, and then, he kisses you. Smiles gradually fade, amusement giving way to urgency, prompting you to reach for him, guiding him until he’s slowly sinking into you, filling you. And it’s a snug fit, but it’s just right, and when Javi rocks his pelvis, you’re remade. Suddenly cast adrift, in search of an anchor, you dig your fingers into his hair. Seek out his shoulders with your hands. Follow the curve of his spine and twine your legs around him just so you can feel the way flexes and stretches into your touch.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. “Javi, please… Please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promises against your throat. “You feel so good, mi corazón. Feels like you’re mine. Like you’ve always been mine. Fuck.”

His words thrum through you, wreaking havoc, curling your spine, bringing even more heat to your cheeks. There’s no hiding the way your legs are trembling, no stopping your body from bearing down, from clenching hard, from trying to keep him deep inside for as long as possible. His name spills out from your lips like marbles on a wooden floor, the reverent mantra smothered only by his mouth seeking yours.

“Say you’ll stay with me,” Javi demands, teeth nipping your chin.

You nod frantically, “Yes. Yes, I’ll stay with you.”

In possession of you, of your agreement, Javi’s hold becomes unforgiving – fingertips digging into the meat of your hip and the nape of your neck. His thrusts turn pointedly devastating – retreating and surging forward, all precise and measured, purposeful in the way he seems to take control, bringing you to orgasm for the third time with a broad, self-satisfied smile that isn’t as humble as he probably thinks it is.

When he finally comes, he buries himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, stubble rubbing against your cheek as he muffles his groans of pleasure into the crook of your neck. As the two of you lie together in the afterglow, his head pillowed by your breasts, your arms and legs wrapped around him, breaths slowing until they match, the truth of you, of him, becomes undeniably clear.

Home isn’t a place. It’s a person.

And you’ve finally found each other.

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loliwrites · 2 months

Text

September: Beast of Burden

part two of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], SMUT, oral [m&f receiving], unprotected p in v sex, blink and you’ll miss it anal play, choking, hair pulling, brief cum eating, one single solitary spank, cigarettes [are bad for you], post-sex photos, terms of endearment [querida], female reader, no physical description, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 5.0k ⇢ series masterlist ⇢ a/n: javi fully in his slut era. but the slut to girl dad pipeline is impending ❤️

The final month of summer was punctuated by more than Labor Day and fading heat. This year was marked by the bruises of fresh hickeys on your neck and chest, and the scratches you’d carved down Javier’s back. Emphasized by the lazy mornings that followed; all strong black coffee and subdued yearnings for lust that never went unanswered. You had come to learn that the rumors that trickled through The Tack Room about him – the ones that hung heavy and muggy in the air, like the inside of your car, steaming up the windows – were all true. A good time guy. Hung like a horse. Insatiable. The best goddamn lay ever.

Truthfully, you hadn’t had the wherewithal to pay much attention to the rumors before sleeping with him. There wasn’t the time to. In a world consumed with a day job that led into a weekend job and virtually single handedly raising a child, you weren’t afforded to pay too close attention to the local gossip about the playboy man-child. It seemed every other woman in town was talking about it enough for the whole lot. And though you were certainly hearing of the whispers at The Tack Room, it still didn’t dawn on you to pay close attention. Javier Peña, despite being the son of a cherished and valued member of Laredo, didn’t have the same distinction. He’d come back into town like a hurricane, whipping up the wind and rain, leaving broken windows and hearts in his path. And hell, a guy willing to fill the early hours of your weekend mornings and not take up any of your other already limited free time, was welcome. Especially the guy who was giving you the orgasms all these other women were reminiscing about.

“I haven’t seen him. He keeps giving me excuses. Working on his dad’s ranch or something.”

The last bit of gossip you needed before clocking out that Friday night. A little dagger you could take and sink in between Javier’s ribs. Twist and turn, nicking arteries on the way. See, Javier could have any woman he so much breathed in the direction of. The line stretching through town seemed unending, all trying to get a glimpse of his attention. A glimmer of love for the night. What these women didn’t know, and why you only pursed your lips and smiled to yourself, was you knew why they weren’t hearing from him anymore. It hadn’t been intentional. There wasn’t some grand plan to get him off the market. In fact, there generally wasn’t too much meaningful conversation. But he spent most days of the week working in the sun, doing hard manual labor that was a far cry from his previous life in the DEA (not that he ever spoke about it to you), and his Friday night, Saturdays, and Sundays had been spent balls deep in you, knocking your head into the headboard. At least for the last month it had been.

You pushed through the heavy metal back door of The Tack Room and slung your purse over your shoulder. Hooking a left outside the door, the first thing you saw was the orange glow of his cigarette. The smoke wafted upward, curling around his nose and cheeks, obscuring the rest of his head like a shroud for the dead. He was leaned back against the brick wall in a relaxed posture. If only the women inside knew the man they were fawning over was just a handful of yards away from them. Better than that, you knew he had been for nearly an hour. While there wasn’t any intention in keeping him to yourself, you felt it important to know he was wrapped around your finger. And for him to know it, too.

“Thought you were quitting,” you smirked, plucking the cigarette out from between his fingers. You brought it up to your lips for a puff. When he stepped closer, you blew the smoke out in his direction.

“You too,” he snatched it back and set it back between his lips. “Also thought you said you were off at eleven.”

You didn’t need to look at a clock to know you were an hour late. Wrapped around your finger. “I like things that are bad for me. And I thought I was,”

Turning for your car, you heard his boots clicking on the pavement behind you. Always in tow. You didn’t have to look behind you to know he was taking one last, long puff from the cigarette, holding onto the smoke and nicotine; one last hit of this drug before moving onto the next. He threw it to the ground in front of him and smothered it out with his boot on his next step forward. He stood close behind you, waiting for you to unlock the car door. You turned on your heels once you pulled it open. Not much could be said for Javier’s virtues but once he had something, or rather someone, he wanted in his sights, his patience was unwavering.

He slung his forearm over the top of your car door. A slanted smirk crossing over his lips, eyes glinting in the moonlight. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the smug thoughts going through his head. For as much as you had him wrapped around your finger, he knew you were wrapped around his too. Not too many women turned down Javier fucking Peña.

“I’m exhausted so you better make it quick tonight,” you cocked your head to the side, giving your best attempt at disinterest, knowing it wasn’t very convincing.

The smirk on his face broadened, fully aware of your blatant lie. If he’d learned anything over the past month, it was that you were never too tired for him. Never told him no in four weeks. He raised his hand and caressed your chin between his thumb and index finger, “sure, querida.” Those deft fingers stroked down to its point before dropping back to his waist.

Well, shit. You were no better than all those other women in the bar. Reminiscing about his touch, knowing they’d melt with the gentlest of acts. The warmth that spread through your stomach, inching down to your most inner parts was a testament to that. Another unconvincing glare in his direction was the last thing you did before you ducked into your car. He shut the door behind you and took a step back when you all but peeled out of the parking lot, in a race back to your home. But he waited until you were out of sight before he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his carton of cigarettes, and pulled a new one from it. Took his time lighting the damn thing before he spun and made back for his car. If only you’d known the lengths he was going to, to make you wait.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

As much as you figured Javi was ruining other men for you, you knew you were ruining other women for him. However long this lasted (his reputation was evidence enough that this wasn’t someone meant for long term monogamy), you were taking up as much of his free time as he was taking up yours. Cocooned in this false sense of security. Bathed in a rush of dopamine and oxytocin. The last five weekends had all gone pretty much the same. Only a little variation in the order of events… positions… the absolute filth Javi whispered in your ear.

“You like having this tight, little pussy filled up, huh?”

“Look at me when you come,”

“Can you feel it, querida? My cock all the way up here,”

That last one was paired with his large hand wrapping around your stomach, fingers pressing in just below your belly button. What was even more astonishing was that yes, you could.

The nights always started with some form of pleasure for you. Long makeout sessions that had once been lost to adolescence were renewed with fervor. Lingering touches over the expanse of your body. Heavy handed things that ensured you felt the weight of his fingers long after they’d moved on. Along with the rumors of his exploits here in Laredo, there’d also been rumblings of what he’d gotten up to in Colombia. Not the nature or details of his job. But the details of his… extracurricular activities. And every night you found yourself in bed with Javi, those rumors started to sound more and more plausible.

And after the makeout sessions, Javi always oh so willingly dragged his mouth lower; lips giving attention to the skin his fingers had previously been responsible for. Never had to ask. Never had to convince him. He’d work down your body until he got to the apex of your thighs which had already spread to accommodate him. Hook those arms around your legs. Clutch those hands around your hips. And without fail – every single time – he’d take a long, deep inhale through his nose before his mouth set forth. First with his tongue broad and flat to your clit, rolling over it to warm you up (as if you needed it) before he gently closed his lips around it. He never questioned it. Never searched your eyes for reassurance that he was doing it to your satisfaction. He knew he was. Probably perfecting the move for the past fifteen plus years. If there was ever any anxiety about whether or not he was doing it well, that all vanquished by the time he migrated down further, to your entrance, lips and tongue working together to keep you on edge. The squeaks and moans that left your lungs didn’t leave anything up for debate. Worse, more than once, you noted the smug smirk he wore when he heard the noises from you. Face buried deep between your legs, tongue lapping and probing for entrance, and that fucking smirk was still obvious.

Like every man, he wasn’t one to turn down a blowjob. His eyes always seemed to light up when you started to inch your way down to his manhood. Eyes affixed to each of your movements. The way you started with soft kisses to the head of his cock. Always followed up by the tracing of the crown with your tongue before you let your lips kiss down his shaft. You were willing to take this slow – far slower than he probably would’ve preferred – but given the sheer amount of women he’d been with, his stamina was something else entirely. Raising a child didn’t exactly allow you the time or opportunity to get your stamina to the same level. But he never rushed you. Never pushed on the back of your head and forced you to stay with him down your throat. His hands were always present somewhere. Brushing your hair away from your face so he had a better view of the way his cock filled your mouth. Holding your hair in a ponytail to help set a rhythm whenever you started to veer off the path. Cupped beneath your chin, praising you. Look at you, champ. That mouth feels amazing, querida.

Going down on you was a standard occurrence. Whether or not he did it until you climaxed depended on the night. Most nights he was happy to stay there as long as he needed. Sometimes it was all that happened. Over and over again until your body couldn’t take anymore. Until your hand shot down and pressed back on the top of his head, trying to get some reprieve. Sometimes you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you, and though you appreciated his dedication, had to beg him to give you what you needed. It was something you’d learned quickly about Javier: with enough begging with the right amount of eyelash batting and pouting, you could get him to do just about anything you wanted.

He was always slow with you to start. Never pressing too far too quickly. Always giving you the time to adjust to him; the cocky bastard knew genetics had heartily endowed him. Perhaps he did it just to get you to beg more. To fill you up. Harder. Deeper. And when he teased (or tortured) you enough and sunk fully into you, you always strained your ears for the sigh he released. It didn’t matter what position he had you in. There was always a steady exhale of pure contentment. A longing to remain just where he was, nestled deep in your heat. But he always managed to rile himself out of it. To get himself back on task. And only then would he allow himself to get lost in ecstasy. Tenderness wasn’t something you’d say was in Javi’s repertoire. Perhaps gentleness was reserved for someone else. He was there with one objective in mind: you get you both off. And if nothing else, Javier was very efficient at it.

On this night, like the others, he was quick hands and lips, and the pace he set once he was inside you made you really reconsider taking up a religion. You were face down on the bed, chest making contact with the mattress too. The only thing held up was your ass, thanks to Javier’s arm. Wrapped tightly around your hips to keep you up at an angle conducive for the debauchery he was committing. His other hand groped your fleshy backside, tugging and squeezing each time your anatomy fluttered around his length.

“Javi,” you whined breathlessly. Sweat beaded at your hairline, matting the strands to your face, making you feel even warmer.

He smiled to himself, thankful you weren’t in a position to see it. Normally that expression on him resulted in your hands flying at him to slap it off. “Yeah, querida,”

“You’re so good,”

“I know,” he grinned even harder to himself. And when that response had you pushing up on your arms to snap your gaze back to him, he released your ass and pushed your head back down to the mattress. Another smile passed over his lips; this one holding space for much more fondness. For he could get you, full of spice and vigor, to submit to him so easily. Willingly. “So good for me, querida. Get your hands back here, let me see how good you are.”

Without a moment of contemplation you reached back, more pressure on your chest and cheek as your hands went to obey him. Fingers latched onto your ass, replacing where his had just been, and you tugged softly to yourself, giving Javi the view he wanted. Unobstructed to watch his cock slide in and out of you, each thrust coating him a little bit more in your arousal and stretching you out. With his length filling one hole he set his thumb at the other. You choked on your breath at the feeling. Though he added no real pressure to push the digit in, there was just enough force that let you know he could.

“Javi, m’gonna…”

You were being hauled up to your knees before you could catch your bearings. One moment you’re face down on the mattress and the next you were pulled up, your back pressed tightly to his chest. Your head tilted back and rested on his shoulders. Javier wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you down on him while the other snaked up over your breasts until his fingers found purchase around your throat. He squeezed tightly, smirking at the noise you let out.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna come already,” he mocked, leaning in closer to nibble on your jaw. Knowing you were too blissed out to answer, he snapped his hips forward with a particularly hard thrust, “just like the way I fill you up, huh?”

Nodding wildly, digging your nails into his forearm around your waist was all you could manage for a moment before, “love it.”

He growled in your ear. “Yeah? Show me. Show me how much you love my cock,” he kept his pace steady despite his own breaths getting more labored. He wouldn’t be long behind you. “Come all over me, querida. Let me feel it,”

The command became your ultimate undoing. Your body shivered, tensed, and a cry tore through your throat. The muscles in your core squeezed and released his shaft in perfect rhythm, though it didn’t slow him at all. He fucked you through the orgasm that overtook you until you crumbled out of his arms and back to the bed. Javier followed you down, never fully slipping out of you before you were pinned between him and the bed. Each thrust forced a little more of your release out until you could feel the wetness it left behind each time your skin met his again.

“Javi,” you moaned with pure lust.

One of his hands planted on the bed beside you to give him enough space and leverage to keep up his ministrations, while the other went to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. He tugged your head back, catching the sexed out sight of you. Jaw slack, skin tacky with sweat. He almost lost it there without warning. Choked out a groan and furrowed his eyebrows as he held on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he spat. His game plan was to pull out and come over your ass. But then the feeling of your hand gripping into his hip, clutching into him and tugging to keep him forward on you, let him know you had other plans.

“Inside,” you gasped, pressing backward to keep your core as far down on his length as possible. “I want it inside,”

The muscles in his stomach and chest flexed. He bowed his head, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,”

It was just one more snap forward. One last squeeze of your muscles to make the fit even tighter. He didn’t even have time to stick to his game plan even if he’d been so inclined. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could, coming inside you with an animalistic groan. Stuttered thrusts shot his load and then pumped it further into you. A bite landed on your neck as he finished, his length throbbing inside you, laying heavy. Still. The rest of his body laid heavy on you, too. Weight nearly suffocating on top of you, blocking out the rest of the world that wasn’t the feel of him and the scent of sex.

“Peña. Off,”

“Give me a goddamn second,” he huffed. There was no real anger or annoyance in his tone. Just the playful animosity for the use of his last name.

“I can’t breathe,”

“Got enough air to speak,” he exhaled. But he was quick to rouse when you clenched your core around his shaft, “okay, okay.” He backed himself up and looked down to watch as he pulled his length out of you, taking some of your shared release with him.

A whimper floated past your lips when he was completely unsheathed. The emptiness felt nearly unbearable. As if he could read your mind, he brought a hand to your center; nimble fingers collected the come that had leaked out of your spent hole. Then his middle and ring fingers pushed forward, spearing you yet again. Your legs shifted open to accommodate them. Another moan resulted from him curling the digits inside you, inching his come back inside you.

But his fingers left your gaping hole just as quickly as they’d entered it. And your eyes only opened from their comfortable rest when you felt his wet fingers on your lips. He was leaning over you again, eyes fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to obey him. You both knew you would. Keeping your gaze on him, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his long, thick fingers. Tongue danced over them, licking away the come he’d collected. But he couldn’t let tenderness win, and instead of removing his fingers once you’d swallowed his offering, he pushed his fingers to the back of your mouth until you gagged on them.

You yanked on his wrist until he relented and pulled his fingers out of your mouth. “You’re an ass,”

He laughed and pushed himself off the bed. With a brief search, he located his boxer briefs and picked them up off the floor. But there was a pause. A moment where he just stood by the bed and stared at the form of your body. Stretched out on your stomach, laid out on display like some real-life work of art. But then you turned your head and spotted him, and all he could do was clear his throat and smack his hand down on your ass. “Best pussy I’ve had in awhile,”

You rolled your eyes and turned over just in time for him to throw his underwear at you before he left the room. Now left alone, with Javier walking naked through your home, you slid his underwear up your legs and settled the waistband around your hips. And as clothed as you were willing to get for now, you reached over for the nightstand and pulled the drawer open. Produced from it, the Polaroid camera.

Javier was already heading back down the hallway to your bedroom by the time you lifted the camera up and peered through the viewfinder. He had no time to conceal himself before you snapped the photo the moment he passed through the threshold. One hand held a glass of water up to his mouth. The other arm hung at his side. His manhood swinging between his legs. The photo printed and you set the camera aside. A disgruntled groan clued you in to the fact that he wasn’t particularly pleased you were taking another photo of him, but he no longer truly voiced his displeasure with it like he had the first time. For as much as the routine of your sex escapades became commonplace to you. This had become commonplace to him. Every single night you’d been together had resulted in you snapping at least one photo of him. Sometimes more, if you were lucky. Before sex, after sex… during sex. The collection you’d started of Javier Peña, DEA, would be something legends were made of.

He came back to bed and flopped down beside you, handing the glass of water over. You exchanged it for the new photo of him and took a sip of water while he admired the photo of himself. Never short on ego.

“What do you do with these?” He used the advantage of you having turned onto your side to set the glass on the nightstand to sidle up behind you. With his chest pressed tightly to your back, he held the photo out in front of you until you took it from him.

“I’m creating a mural in the women’s bathroom at The Tack Room,” then looking over your shoulder and offering him a wink, “the many faces of Javier Peña.”

“Don’t think anyone’s looking at my face,” his hold on your hip tightened.

You looked back at the photo – this one unfortunately had most of his face obscured by the glass of water. Feeling his teeth at the soft skin on your neck, you reached forward and tugged the nightstand drawer open again, “I am.”

He lifted his head again, but finding you’d already averted your gaze, followed the outstretch of your arm to where it dug through the drawer. It didn’t take long for you to find what you were looking for. It was placed in a spot all of its own; not mixed into the ever-growing pile of salacious portraits of him. “This one’s my favorite,” you rotated on your back and held the picture up so you could both gaze upon it.

You knew he’d question it. Going through the rolodex in your mind, you could pinpoint a handful of other pictures where he was objectively more handsome or more mysterious looking. Could think of any number where his manhood looked larger. Because this photo? It was simple. You’d left the room to retrieve the camera from your purse and had come back to him in this state. Snapped the picture before he could protest (like usual). And it was just so real.

Javi laid back on your bed, naked. A sheen of sweat over his face, neck, chest… hair skewed and wild. His member laid back against his stomach, no longer at its fully hard length, and he had one hand limply cupped over his balls. His other hand was splayed on his chest, fingers outstretched. Just prior to snapping the photo, you had noticed how he seemed zoned out. His eyes, unblinking and unfocused, staring off at nothing. Whatever he was seeing was no longer physically in front of him. You’d managed to get the photo in the same moment he looked up at you. His eyes, while now focused, were still heavy. Eyes that you had only ever seen as ravenously lust-filled, or overtly enigmatic, had given up their act. Forgotten they weren’t alone and had fallen to their true state.

“M’not even smilin’ in that one,”

“S’why I like it,” you glanced over at him for the quickest of acknowledgement before returning your attention back to the photo. You ran your fingertip over the photographed version of his face, “your eyes look sad.” He traded in answering for pursing his lips together and you twisted over again to set the photo back in its rightful place.

When you turned back, Javi was already getting out of bed. Done with his dutiful minutes of what could hardly be called cuddling, and was yet again looking for more of his clothes. You sat up too, familiar with this part of your dance. Rather impersonal sex, followed by rather impersonal and lackluster aftercare, completed by the awkwardness of him leaving though you knew you’d see him tomorrow night for the same song and dance.

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked, gaining confidence when he instantly looked at you, “if I ask you a question, can you answer me honestly?” He nodded, waited just a second before he snatched his jeans off the floor and worked them up his legs. The whole act caught you flustered. Those tight jeans worked up his thick thighs, over the swell of his ass. And the way they cradled his bulge… it had you salivating. “What’d you do for the DEA in South America?”

Javi sucked in a deep breath through his nose and held it. He wondered how much you’d overheard his dad share at different points… or how much his dad had blatantly told you. He adjusted himself in his jeans and then rested that hand on his hip. “Chased Pablo Escobar,”

It was a name you’d heard in the news here and there in mentions of the war on drugs. But all things considered, Pablo Escobar seemed like a character from fairy tales. His name, while known, held no bearing in Laredo.

“Did you catch him?”

“No,”

“Then why’d you come home?”

Javi ignored the question and bent back down to pick his shirt up off the floor. “That’s more than one question,”

“Then answer one more for me,” you cocked your head to the side. He flicked his eyes back to you. “Are you fucking me for information?”

He cocked his head to match yours, “do you have information?”

“No,”

“Then no, I’m not.” He slid his shirt over his hand. Eyebrows furrowed when he looked back at you, “what’d you hear?”

“Surprisingly not the moans of every prostitute in Colombia,” you snickered, though Javi looked less than impressed.

He shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth. “Look, every woman wants to know what I do– what I did for work, and truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not to this. And whatever you think you’ve heard,” he rounded the bed with shoes in hand and came up upon your side, making you feel smaller than you ever had before. “I paid those women for information, not for sex. The money was always exchanged afterward,”

“That doesn’t matter,”

“It does if you’re a prostitute,” he sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled to put his shoes on.

You crawled up behind him and wrapped your arms over his shoulders. Buried your face in his neck and gave him soft kisses there. “I’m just trying to get to know you. You know, since you’re at my house every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night; the nights my kid’s conveniently with her grandmother, and you’re fucking me three ways to Sunday, so I just thought…”

“Well don’t,” he looked over his shoulder. The coldness of his gaze had you inching back off him. “Don’t complicate this by bringing up DEA stuff. I’m enjoying sleeping with you. I think you’re enjoying it, too. And I’d like to continue enjoying it with you instead of the other women in town… fuckin’ insufferable.”

“That’s not nice,” you tried to hide your grin. The other women were… rough. All hoping to get dicked down by the infamous Javier Peña but lacked all real substance.

“You think we can keep doing this without talking about Colombia?”

You nodded, relenting. He had his walls up. Tall, strong, and fortified. You figured they’d never been let down for anyone. Or worse… they had and it had gone terribly wrong. Javi pulled you out of your thoughts with a peck to your lips. Very noncommittal, and stood up from the bed, heading for your door.

“What time are you off tomorrow?”

Your eyes followed him, still reeling, “eleven.”

“Actually eleven, or are you lyin’ to me again?”

“Actually eleven,”

Satisfied, he turned his back to you and headed off down the hallway. You’d follow after him in a couple minutes, long after he was gone, to lock your front door again. But right now, he walked down the hallway alone, “see you tomorrow, querida.”

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena fic #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

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lifeiskentastic · 8 months

Text

Ken is jealous of gn!Reader (but for absolutely no reason)

Gif by @chriswevans

A/N: Dear anons, I am ofc a lazy asshole, but sooner or later I will answer every request, I promise (if I don't, you can burn me in hell);

Summary: gn!Reader interacts with the Other Ken, unaware of the destructive effect it has on Ken. So destructive that he even tore his bandana (but almost immediately sewed it back on)!

Word count: 711 words;

Enjoy!

Ken was very angry. Ken was very, very angry, irritated, furious and hurt. The whole world had suddenly become one big pile of injustice, betrayal and dishonour. Except for the horses, of course.

Every few minutes he sighed sorrowfully, and every few seconds he remembered you and held back angry tears. How could you talk to Another Ken when you already had one? Ken irratable kicked the sand with his foot, but missed and nearly fell backwards. This made him even angrier.

Ken fell rather than sit down on the sun-warmed sand, his head down on his folded arms in despair. It was too heavy because of... Well, because of the heavy thoughts. Ken couldn't stop replaying in his head that unbearably awful moment when he caught you talking to Another Ken.

His heart, soul, and the bandana he was clutching in his hands with all his fury were bursting at the seams (especially the bandana) as he remembered your laughter. No, your laughter itself was just a wonderful, sonorous sound, the best sound for Ken's ears! The problem was that this charming giggle was caused by a Ken. The Other Ken.

"Hello!”

“Ha-ha... Oh, Ken, hi!"

And then the Other Ken dared to speak to you again, without giving poor Ken a chance to get a word in. So he ran away leave with his head held high, went to the beach, sat down on the shore and began to sob with bitter nostalgia, remembering the pleasure of his time with you.

Ken would have sulked until dawn if you hadn't come to his hunched figure.

“Ken?”

He didn't answer. In fact, he showed no signs of life at all. Except for resentment, of course.

You sat down next to him, trying to look into his eyes. But Ken's head was turned a perfect 180 degrees away from you.

“If this is about Ken, there's something you need to know.”

Ken's heart dropped to his heels when he heard what he clearly least wanted to hear.

“Actually, he and I have been discussing...”

Ken squeezed his eyes shut as if he was about to be hit. The most insane versions of your words were swarming through his head, but none of them came close to reality. To the raw, harsh reality...

“We were talking about a film night for you.”

“What?”

Ken's eyelids fluttered shut, and he didn't even notice how he jerked his head in your direction. And when he did... Well, judging by his wry grimace as he looked at your adored treacherous face with pain, his resentment was quite deep. However, after the words "movie night", another terrible monster awoke inside Ken: curiosity.

"Yes, silly, me and the other Kens were planning to have a film party dedicated to horses. In your honour. And it was supposed to be a surprise!”

Try as he might, Ken was too happy to hide his big smile. A film? In his honour? Horses?!

Ken stared at you with the most devoted look possible as his smile grew bigger and bigger. In his pleasantly surprised eyes, you could clearly read "I'm sorry I thought bad things about you (but it was your fault too)". And perhaps somewhere in the secret corners of Ken's unexplored soul, the thought crept in that the Other Ken might not be such a scoundrel after all. But, of course, those were just the secret corners of his unexplored soul and nothing more.

However, even after bringing Ken back to a more positive mental state, you still needed to hear something very important from him:

“Ken, do you... Do you forgive me? I should have told you about my intentions earlier...”

Ken was looking at you with a bit of disbelief, although you could tell from his convulsively trembling lips that he was using all the possible and impossible powers of his plastic facial expressions to keep from smiling.

“Well, if you tell me when the party is, I might forgive you.”

Ken was far from an actor, and you could tell by the way he pouted when he barely found the control not to turn his head towards you again.

“Of course! Tonight.”

In the end, Ken not only forgave you, but also hugged you uncontrollably.

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uncleclam · 4 months

Text

Ken x gn!reader / he wants to marry you so bad

Word count: 728

Rating: sfw

This stupid doll…

CAN'T STOP PROPOSING

Whatever is going on in his tiny little plastic brain, you never expect THIS to happen. He must have been watching way too much Netflix, you know cause when you check the watch history, he basically clicked all romance drama possible, ALL. This is concerning, a drop of sweat formed on your forehead as you see he also watched all princess movies on Disney plus, too. Is this why he keeps bringing that up? That he believed in ‘happily ever after’? Because that sounds like something ‘the Mattel dictionary’ totally would have.

It wasn’t you’re not ready, well, a part of you is definitely not ready, or something anti-marriage of you, because you have definitely thought about it, dreamed of it even, but the reality of having a lifelong commitment is something chased you away—-

Not in a bad way, but definitely not in KEN’s way.

Ken is your cute, clumsy, curious, sometimes annoying roommate. He is still learning about the real world, everything is new to him and he’s so eager to try all of them. You tried to provide the best for him, he’s your favorite doll after all, he has been there with you since you can remember(In a toy form, naked)! You treat him almost like a pet now, you love him of course! Just not in that way…

I want to live with you forever! I want to be your forever partner!

His voice echoes in your brain, it was so innocent and charming actually, his big blue eyes were like shining diamonds, begging you the same way he begged for an ice-cream, you almost said yes out of instinct. Time felt frozen to you, your eyes widened, lungs stopped working. Ken blinked and waited for your response.

‘What did you just say, Ken?’ You asked, wanting to reconfirm.

‘I want to marry you!’

‘Uhh…’ You paused, looking away slightly.

‘Can i?’ He sounded so enthusiastic, like always.

‘I'm afraid we cannot…’ You finally gathered the sentence and spoke it out, sighed, and petted Ken’s hand that had been on your shoulder.

‘Is it something expensive again? Like a double decker bus or a horse?’ Ken tilted his head, he was genuinely asking. He had asked you so many prices on different stuff, especially the stuff he wanted.

‘Not exactly, but-‘ you shuttered.

‘Then why can’t we get married?’ He asked again.

‘Because it needs promises, and promises are not easy.’ You explained, felt like describing the concept of algebra to a toddler. Ken actually paused and started thinking for a while.

———

For the first few days, he seemed upset and confused after you rejected him. The concept of marriage he googled is simply not that easy, you tried to explain to him but he didn’t say anything. You heard him sobbing on the sofa that night. After a week, he’s back to normal classic Ken again, but whenever he opens his mouth, it’s about marrying you.

‘What do you want for lunch?’

‘A wedding dress on you!’

‘Ken, will you pass me the sugar?’

‘I, Ken, take you to be my forever lover, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.’

A dramatic pause

‘I do.’ He vowed as he passed the sugar.

———

This has been 3 weeks now, about the marrying you thing, and he has no signs of giving that up. You wished you were a barbie so you wouldn’t have to care so much—- He even bought two of those Ring Pop where you can suck the candy while it stays on your finger. The candy itself is comically big. A red, cherry flavored for you, and a green, lime flavored for himself. He jogged his way to you, gently held your right hand up and pushed the ring down to the base of your third finger.

‘This doesn’t mean we are officially married—‘

‘I know.’ He looked up and smiled, putting on his own ring and licked on the sweetened crystal. Then He jogged away to look at other stuff while humming the wedding theme song.

He hasn’t taken off the finished plastic ring ever since, and so do you too.

#ryan gosling #ken #fanfiction #fanfic #ken x reader #sfw

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lovebytheoutlaw · 1 year

Note

Can you do NSFW/SFW headcanons for Javier? 👉👈 i am out here begging for content with him

You've kept me waiting, anon! *evil smirk* I love writing for Javier! He's probs my fave to write for! There definitely isn't enough content with him, and I am happy to provide!

Javier sfw headcanons

*nsfw under the cut ;)*

Such a gentleman! Helps you on and off your horse; holding your waist from behind when you're doing chores, kissing your cheek, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Just making you feel so safe, loved, and wanted

If you want, he'll teach you guitar! He's quite patient, especially when it comes to you, and a great teacher! Same if you asked to learn his native tongue. He'd appreciate your desire to learn and the thought of being able to converse with only you two understand each other at camp excites him

If he's having a bad day, he most likely won't talk about it right away. Instead, he'll ask you to go fishing with him, leading to you two sitting by the water silently until he's ready

Constantly making you melt with pet names! 'Mi amor', 'hermosa', 'querida', 'carino'. Serenading you, locking his eyes, full of love, as he plays just for you

Compliments you every day! "That outfit looks gorgeous on you", "You look so pretty in the firelight", "That color really brings out your pretty eyes" SUCH A FLIRT

*Wearing his poncho he gave you earlier that day* "Woah, where'd you get that poncho? I have one just like it! It's quite nice, right? *wink*"

Sarcastic banter back and forth, laughing when one of you runs out of comebacks

Kissing you before he leaves for a job you can't come with for, promising he'll be safe, kissing you when he returns, and cuddles you to sleep and again when you wake up

You can always make him laugh, even if your attempt at such was lackluster. He's so smitten by you!

Warm hugs, very good at comforting you, will listen to you talk about anything and everything, accepting of who you are, and protects you if you need it

Javier nsfw headcanons

*cracks fingers, stretches back* let's get it

CW: nsfw, sexual themes, knifeplay, degradation

Skillful fingers, not just on his instrument, but on yours as well! (If ya know what I mean) He'll catch you often staring at his fingers when he plays, or when you two are sat at a table. Purposefully tapping his fingers on said table, letting you know he noticed

He loves making out, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning low into your mouth

Obviously, knifeplay. As long as you're comfortable and consent to it! Dragging the blade lightly up you body, the cool metal on your skin making you shiver. Holding the knife to your throat (gently!!) as he thrusts achingly slow into you. He also likes you wielding the knife some times too when you're in the mood to be dominant.

Never makes you do anything you aren't comfortable doing. Sets up safe words for the both of you. A TON of communication before anything happens

Turns you on just with his words. He's an expert at flirting, so it makes sense he would be at talking dirty as well! Soaking yourself just from him growling naughty things in your ear that when he reaches down there, he smirks, "Already wet, mi amor? All for me?"

Possessive af. "Who's this pussy/hole belong to? Say it." Marking you up, bruising your skin with his mouth, and fingerprints blemishing your hips

Javier has a stamina out of this world when it comes to sexual activity, and the sex drive of a rabbit. He'll fuck you anywhere and everywhere. All day, any day. Against a tree, at the campfire, in your tent, a hotel. Even a stagecoach after robbing it once. You guys don't mention that one much

Praises the hell out of you! "My good girl", "you're doing amazing, hermosa". However, he also likes to mix in degradation some times if you're into it~! "Take it like a good girl", "look at those pretty tears", "mierda, I love using that beautiful hole"

Slight humiliation, like making you bark, or putting you in embarrassing positions for his pleasure. Loves overstimulation

Loves making slow, sexual, intimate love to you as much as he loves rough fucking. Holds you close, kissing every inch of your skin, taking his time on you, relishing in your elongated moans, and caressing your face. "Te quiero, mi vida"

Aftercare is never skipped. He cleans you up, letting you rest (you need it after that), bringing you water, holding you and asking you if everything was okay, if there was anything you didn't like. Falls asleep with you in his arms, your face in his chest, legs intertwined

#javier #javier escuella #javier hc #javier headcanons #javier escuella headcanons #javier escuella hc #rdr2 #javier escuella smut #javier escuella rdr2 #javier rdr2 #javi #i love himb

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ilylovelyz · 9 months

Note

I just need a very comfort sakusa story with a s/o struggling with s/h and su1c1d4l toughts and social anxiety

⍣ ೋ bittersweet symphony

˚ · . sakusa x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ depression, self harm, negative body image, social / general anxiety, angst, suicidal thoughts, sakusa is awkward, not dumb, bathing, angst with a happy ending

'cause it's a bittersweet symphony, thats life.

you hear the soft pattering of footsteps approaching. judging by the softness, you assume he's checking on you again.

sakusa had just returned from a long day of practice, one that was filled with thoughts about your concern and wellbeing. despite being sweaty and feeling immensely dirty, hungry, and almost exhausted, his first priority is to come to you.

he's careful not to startle you, making sure his footsteps aren't too loud or noisy.

despite hiding your face away from him, away from the world, you can still feel him kneel down to the floor next to you, his body weight resting on the front of his feet.

"hey," he softly says, his hand coming up to lay a comforting hand on top of your blanket clad back.

your back muscles instantly relax at his touch, the heaviness of his hand against your skin is almost oddly comforting to you.

he's almost sighing in relief when you don't fight him like you did this morning when the same hand is slowly pulling off the comforter off your body, revealing the distressed state that is you.

you're laying face down against the floor of the living room, it's a strange area you've chosen as your safe place, but he doesn't really seem to question it either. not that he wants to question you about it either, especially since you're in such a soft mental state at the moment.

"hey, how are you feeling..?" he asks again, his tone low and gentle. his hand comes up to pat the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with your tangled locks, twirling them around when he's noticed the built up oil.

you only hum a short response to him, too tired to say an actual word.

he sighs softly, his eyelids low as he wonders how to get you off the spot that is the dirty floor. you've been in a depressive state for awhile now, and while you've had your fair amounts of highs and lows, this is definitely the worst you've had in awhile.

he feels almost guilty and helpless as he wonders how to make you feel better. he thinks back to the night when you were having a mental breakdown because you thought you weren't enough, wondering if you should just end it all so that way everyone doesn't have to "deal" with you.

but sakusa can beg to differ.

sakusa understands. he's not an idiot, he's not one of those people who are on some stupid high horse and view those who simply have emotions as wimps. no, he's more than understanding.

while he's never had it as bad as you have it, but he can say that he's felt what you've been feeling before, and he knows that it's not the best feeling either.

and he knows these feelings of yours won't just disappear overnight, it takes time to heal.

and luckily for you, sakusa is a patient man. he won't stomp his feet with frustration when you turn down his offer of going on a walk with him, too embarrassed and scared of the thought of being seen by numerous people in your current state, nor will he scold you for not eating the food he made you because you just don't feel like eating.

no, he'll happily lift you up and carry you while he walks if he has to. he'll encourage you to eat, and small portion by portion, he'll make sure by the end of the day, your stomach is at least getting the nutrients and energy it needs.

"y/n," he calls out once more, a light bulb going off in his head as he gets an idea. he gets up and changes his position, sitting in front of you. he leans down ever so slightly, his hands gently encouraging you to look at him.

he's lightly smiling when you do, a soft glint in his eyes as he's proud of the little step you just took. to some, it's almost childish, to him, it's a blessing that you're wanting to lift your head up and look at him after being almost glued to the floor for the past two days.

the lover inside of him has him leaning down a little more to place a soft kiss onto your forehead, his hands still holding your jaw with the lightest pressure ever. "wanna take a bath with me? i bet it'll make you feel better. maybe make you feel more refreshed." he asks, removing one of his hands from your jaw so he can hold your hand.

when you softly shake your head positively at his request, he's shaking his head too, mumbling a little "yeah? yeah," as he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up as if you were his child and carrying you to the bathroom.

he removes your clothes carefully, treating you as if you were fine china. the water is warm, set to your favorite temperature. he'll lead you into the bath, his hand guiding you into it so that way you don't slip.

"does it feel better?" he'll ask while washing your hair, his hands massaging the base of your scalp with a pressure that as you relaxing into him. he's almost prideful when you hum pleasingly at his touch, finding comfort that his attempts don't go unnoticed.

then it comes to wash your body. he starts with your neck, the back of your ears, and shoulders. it almost tickles you, the way his fingers are expertly touching you in your most sensitive spots and pressure points. you try to shy away from his touch, a little self conscious in your body and unshaved skin, but he doesn't allow you to.

"you're so pretty," he whispers against your nape, his hands pausing against your skin to squeeze at your flesh.

you're then stilling again him when he starts to scrub against your arms, cheeks heating up with self-loathing and shame when you're reminded of the clear old and fresh scars on your wrists that lead up to almost your elbow.

you thought he would maybe scold you for it, or maybe look at you with disgust, scared of what you thought was ugly and mortifying.

you almost melted when he just continued to scrub around your scars, the pressure of the scrubbing lightening around that specific area as to not irritate some of the more fresher ones. "this doesn't hurt right? not too rough?" he asks casually, not seeming to even mind the cuts.

it almost brings you to tears, the way he's just so gentle and accepting to you.

towards the end of the bath, he'll quickly wrap a towel around you first, not wanting you to get cold. as his hands wrap the towel around your frame, his hands close it in over your chest, his eyes soft and tender. you fight the urge to cry when he's then pulling you in for a kiss, his hold on you never ending and warm.

he'll hold you there for awhile, never minding that he doesn't have his own towel, or that he's almost on the verge of shivering because he's cold.

sakusa will happily lift you up into his arms once more, not minding the wet puddles that follow after his footsteps. he'll happily tuck you into the warm covers that is the bed he used to share with you.

he'll happily play with your now cleaned hair, knowing that you like it when he plays with your hair until you fall asleep. it takes awhile until you do, he'll ignore the cramp in his fingers after playing with your hair for almost an hour until you finally lull asleep, but sakusa is a patient man.

afterall, healing is a long process, and the two of you have all the time in the world to heal and rest.

please leave a like and repost with tags :)

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