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diorncoke · 9 months

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Your my little sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey⋆˙𖤓⟡˙⋆ (1/2)

🫧⋆｡°✩ summary: in the moments of being under the influence of a man who averaged out the death rate of an entire state, Stefan is tangled in finding a comfortable home for a sweet girl who has the status he hadn’t heard about in centuries.

authors note: goddess, i had a fanfic about this years ago, and i didn’t go anywhere with it. so here is that tiny space in my brain that wanted to post this :) — word count: 7.8k

🌞 characters: the vampire diaries \ college au! , jeremy gilbert , / x black! fem! little! reader .☀︎ ݁ ˖

🌞 content warning(s): no set plot line, some use of y/n, talks of anxiety attacks, reader is a wolf pup, stefan & damon being big brothers, baby babbles, ¡male lactation!, use of rattles (i want one so bad), fluff, mentions of weapons, bottles, nesting, swearing, protective tatted jeremy, littles are knowledgeable, cliche asf ;) — third person pov!

🌞 before reading: her outfit, pjs & bottle , https://pin.it/2eS7TCc , https://pin.it/5VSFrm0 https://pin.it/4DQNyfF

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ The sun reached its peak before completely shining on the state of Michigan, New Orleans, specifically in the small town area of an infamous bar owned by the well-known witch in the area. Gloria is a flamboyant soothsayer, and many would describe her as charmingly intelligent with looks that have the appearance of only being forty years old. Though she wasn't anywhere near, she was more than a hundred years old, though she was not immortal.

She held the tasks of the spirits coursing through her fingers that allowed her to create many mixtures to slow down the aging she would have been subjected to. The world she accepted was due to her knowledge of mystical objects and the magical arts she knew best.

In the area, the day was ending, while for Gloria, it was just the beginning of a long day of watching the town folk drink themselves silly at barely noon. She began by noting out the invention from last night and checking for any fruit flies that tried to find homes in her classic liquor bottles. With her wooden clipboard, she walked around the remaining spaces behind the bar running her own rancid on the boxes. Considering it to be finalized, she threw the clipboard inside a drawer before pulling out a wine glass before she eventually poured herself a small glass of Chardonnay.

The witch felt the vibrant flavour of the white wine flourish against her dry thirst perfectly. She could age the wine with access to the best wineries in the area; who would care for this damned bar like her if she wasn’t alive. With a deep breath, she gathered the bottle and glass to its rightful place, still tasting the sweet tangle in her mouth before she took it upon herself to unlock the doors without having to walk over.

She began to walk against the bar edge before she heard the bell on the top of the door ring announcing its presence to the owner. Her back faced the bar top, placing tiny red straws into cups. It had only been a few minutes of opening before she felt folks pouring in; her bar was a classic spot with plenty of folks from over a hundred years ago still coming in and out. The perks of knowing a witch in the area to keep her young, she couldn’t imagine the looks of her ancestors as they watched her as closely helping wolves and a select few humans.

She smiled to herself, thinking of her past family before she took it upon herself to drown herself in an ageless potion to pause her aging, though she knew it would catch up to her eventually. Thinking so profoundly, the hairs on the back of her neck formed a light chilling breeze feeling the presence of something beyond human. Gloria was adept at reading people and the energy they gave off into the world; she had to. Bad energy minimizes the effect on the corners of the bar she saged with.

“What brings you here? You brought a friend, I see.” She announced her knowledge to the being before she could even turn around to face him. She plopped her hand around the cups of straws to place them behind her to the top above the seating arrangements for customers.

Gloria looked up towards the infamous Klaus Mikaelson in all his glory; she didn’t have to try and give off confidence as she held the powers of her ancestors. With one flick of her wrist, he would be forced out of her bubble alongside his friend without a second thought. She took in his body language, the glint of desperation in his eyes, looking behind to the clear picture of him and the former man she had known as Stefan Salvatore. A ruthless man who forced a man to drink his wife’s blood while they laughed, though from the look of him. He looked dazed and under Klaus’ compulsion. A clear abuse of power right in front of her. The damned wolf needed something from her, witches were always pulled into vampire drama.

Before she could ask what the infamous Klaus needed. He beat her to it.

“I need help locating a certain necklace. That my dear sister lost.” The sister in question scoffed from the front door of the bench she crossed her legs against. Gloria crossed her arms, hearing the beginning banter of the sibling just like they did in the 20s. She flared her eyebrows towards the hybrid, reminding him that he genuinely wanted something from her; he would need to be serious with her. If not, get the fuck out of her bar and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

“Hmm. Give me your hand, sweetheart.” Gloria raised her hand, awaiting the vampire to do so. The sooner she did this, the quicker she could get them out and away from her upstairs home. She grasped the soft blonde’s bloodied hand into her own, instantly feeling the dark shadows of the vampire's mind. Her first heartbreak being of a father’s betrayal, brushing his children as though they were nothing. That said, she was only here on behalf of her brother and the undying love she mindlessly had for Stefan. With a deep breath, she placed herself into the powers the necklace had for itself, scouring into the universe, looking for its source before her search stopped. She had placed the energy perfectly in a matter of time.

“There’s a girl with her friends.” However, she got more than she liked to lead. The perfect carbon copy of the woman known back then as Katerina Petrova wearing the original witches necklace dangling between her chest as her friends watched her stir a pot of chilli. The atmosphere surrounding the doppelgänger when dark as she placed herself in her energy bubble, burning the girl's flesh harshly before her ancestors pushed her out of the vision. She opened her eyes, feeling goosebumps erupting between their hands across the til of the bar.

“Yes, a dead girl with dead friends if I don’t get my necklace,” Rebekah spoke out, still feeling Gloria's hand intertwined with her own. Before the witch let go of her, standing further back from the trio of vampires. The feeling she received was not something she was used to when it came to doing spells. It was dark; even though she fused into old voodoo, this was something she wouldn’t allow herself to tap into. Regardless of what the damned wanted her to do, she needed a plan. It wasn’t only her that needed protecting.

“That’s all I got. Just images. I need more time.” Gloria truly believed she had the upper hand in giving the vampires what they wanted. She needed time, so she pursued Stefan to understand why she did what she did. In hopes, he would take in the reader who lay sleeping in the connected house without a care in the world. Continuing the notion of confidence placed her hand on the same glass she had only placed underneath the bar top. She pushed the glass of wine in between her lips and drank. Though it did nothing to tolerate her nerves, it tasted good. From the glasses eye, she watched Klaus debate giving her what she wanted before Stefan took it upon himself to take the attention away from the witch.

“Hey, you know, why don’t we just come back later? I’m hungry. I’ll let you pick who we eat.” Stefan filled the void with an enthusiastic voice while walking to the front door. Knowing the siblings weren’t looking, he scrunched his eyebrows towards the drinking witch, understanding without much words from the way her heart was beating. Stefan couldn’t help but want to know more, regardless of the circumstances of his humanity that was destroyed like a light switch. When he looked at the witch, it reminded him of Elena, the desperate look behind her chocolate brown eyes that wanted nothing more than to embrace in her soft hug. Stefan knew it wouldn’t be the same after turning the one thing that brought everything back on, but this was the first step. He wouldn’t be the man he was being compelled by.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ It was effortless to make the Mikaelsons believe Stefan had betrayed the bonded trust of what Klaus mistook as a friendship. He forgot the truth of their connection is a clear abuse of power in the twenties and used his vampirism to create fantasies that fuelled his instincts he knew deep down were of his true nature. Although it made Gloria sick to her stomach, the feeling that he could rip her throat out in the second of vulnerability. She still took the correct herbs and mashed them grinding bowl speaking to the ancestors above with nothing but salted intentions in her words.

She created a sinister scenario that led the siblings in thinking the vampire had fled to find refuge in an unfamiliar place they would seek for enough time too distracted by petty things to realize Stefan was in the outs of Michigan. A lengthy time before her dear one would be blessed in sanctuary from the darkness of that damned hybrid. Though here she was in front of the door that reminded her of what could change the rest of her life and sharing that with a vampire was something she never expected. When she first met the reader she had all intentions of harming her as she wasn’t welcomed in a place she sacrificed everything for.

All the ageless nights to be disrupted by a broken window and shattered glass she refused to let the reader allow to seep her bare feet into. She had no shoes. Gloria took a deep breath and reminded herself of the severity of the current situation.

“Stefan, do you understand that in these circumstances, I will kill you with my bare hands if she is not taken to safety? Right?” Gloria has no room for doubt or frolicking regarding the very thing behind this door. The witch was not one to keep the reader so hidden for a long duration; it was perfect, though; she had a late night practicing her shifting abilities. The memory caught her in a frenzy of smiles before the witch remembered to unlock the multiple locks on the flowery door across the stairs to the bar.

“Of course. I remember you. I’m sure you’ll do much worse. I want to understand why you have chosen me?” Stefan asked hesitantly, leaning next to the door and awaiting the dreaded conversation between them. The vampire watched her fumble with the keys to each lock before beginning the discussion. He blinked softly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“You can be good for her. Or I trust you will find someone who is. My aging remedies can’t stop the aging from catching up to me much longer. I’m getting too old to take care of her.” Anyone in the listening distance could hear the pain straining in her voice, thinking of leaving this world before she could help her little one find herself again and have the ability to be small. Gloria placed the multiple keys into the loop of her denim jeans, giving Stefan one last look over. She wanted her words to linger in his senses; this was impotent to her and her ancestors. She would not give them the impression of disappointment.

The supernatural entities heard the locks click into the ears before Gloria pushed the door open lightly, not wanting to scare the little one behind it if she had still been sleeping.

Stefan stopped in his tracks and recalled a developing scent of wolf pups that was still undergoing growth before he could get a glimpse of them. It wafted into his sensitive nostrils before he took a deep breath taking in the sweet flowery scent wanting to keep it under his nose for the rest of his immortal life. It was divine and filled with life, something he couldn’t quite comprehend behind what he surrounded himself.

Gloria looked behind her, taking in the vampire's reaction to her little one. She smiled before clicking the light switch that only turned on the fairy lights across the walls, as the pup was quite sensitive to light fixtures that beamed into her eyes. The colourful area of strawberry shortcake decor covered the entirety of the room she could barely remember the colour of the walls or floor presences to her.

The witch took a light step towards the bed covered in plushies that the reader loved to cuddle against and scent. Her favourite one to do so was of a cow named Print; he was a special thing that if you pushed a button on his foot, his stomach lit up with stars on the ceiling. Close enough to the pup, she removed the picnic table printed blanket from the reader's sleeping state. Anyone could tell she was still a pup as she didn’t wake up alarmed by others entering her room.

Gloria looked to the side of her to see the pup she had been trying to wake up with tender swats on her back and bum. Her pretty doe ( eye colour ) opened up to the familiar face above her cradling face.

“Who is she? I haven’t seen littles in centuries. How did you find her?” Stefan hadn’t uttered a word in some time. He couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t vaguely remember when everyone had taken in people with smaller headspaces to fill the void for the undermining issue of no children for quite a while. The man stepped into the occupied territory before closing the door quietly, letting the question linger for an answer to meet.

“Hm. Her name is y/n. The poor thing was sent to kill me. Many folks in her pack believed she was an abomination and sent her to kill a witch. They hoped I would kill her. Boy, were they wrong? I fell in love with taking care of her. I don’t have any children of my own, you see.” Gloria believed the spirits called the reader to herself, guiding her through the hardships of life til she finally found someone who cared for her. Which is why she is the woman she is today. Gloria glanced towards the girl before taking a deep breath, knowing Stefan was not here to hear the whole story. However, she might have been wrong. The heavy vampire's eyes glanced at her baby beyond anything she had seen from the first time she met him. It was soft but short, knowing he had a reputation to uphold despite having no humanity.

“What happened to this pack?”

“I burned every single one of them to the bone. It took a lot, but I did it to protect her.” Gloria smiled, maneuvering the little so she rested against her shoulders rather than flush on her lap and pillow. She pushed her nose against her freshly washed hair, breathing in the brisk relaxing air surrounding her. It calmed her down in ways she didn’t know; coming into this room was a breath of fresh air. She would miss the comfort of her.

“I’ve kept her far too long from a pack. She needs one, Stefan. She won’t survive much longer with just me.” Before the vampire could speak, she quickly stated how long the reader had been away from the ritual of piling clothing and items; she loved to create the perfect area for a quiet hibernation. The reader's old pack was big on the little ones to ensure they were comforted in ways that some had seen as prehistoric for this day in age. Doing so was the first time in years of waiting to be found by Gloria that she created a nest. Gloria grimaced, feeling the painful memories of her pup during the nightly hour of how she craved to cuddle into her neck and scent her as pack members did.

“I will help you. I know someone who will take her in.” He heard her plead, thinking someone he had broken the heart of would understand his place in the vampire empire. He would beg on his knees to Elena after seeing the beautiful little creature grasping Gloria’s hand. Though, deep down this would be the perfect distraction to his whereabouts if they had a little one to take care of.

Stefan watched the witch place her black nail tapping the pup's squished face against her shoulder as she blinked slowly and softly, taking in the presence and warmth through the connected skin. The yawn, so simple yet cute from her chest, left a pout on her lips from the dryness that came with it. The blanket was sitting perfectly, squished around her legs and stomach though he could still see the flare of freckles on the reader's shoulders and stomach that were out, dancing for his eyes to consume. The vampire was attentive to everything she did, including the deafness of not hearing Gloria introducing him to the wolf before him. Eventually, seeing her ( eye colour ) eyes turn towards his own with a hint of curiosity. All he could do was place his sweaty hand on his pants to get rid of the wetness that came with being in this room.

“H-hello.” He called to her, seeing her sit up more comfortably in Gloria's lap. She fiddled with the hair in braids with her pink-coated fingers, twirling around each lock before she gave the courage to smile at the man. Before she eventually hid her face into Gloria's shoulders with a giggle. She was adorable in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure what to do. Was he supposed to continue standing awkwardly, or maybe he should sit on the chair on the opposing side of the bed? Though he didn’t sit unknowingly for long as Gloria picked up on his hesitance.

“You can sit. She’ll want to scent you eventually. If that’s alright?” Gloria asked, hoping it would be something he was comfortable with; it was something she did as not only a greeting but a nighttime routine when it came to accompanying a new member. They watched her lean away from the witch's lap and chest, awaiting Stefan to grasp her hand into his own. In doing so, she couldn’t help but try and place his hand close to the bottle that was empty on the side table he was sitting beside. She was building up quite an appetite.

“H-Hi.” She made sure to use her manners like Miss Gloria taught her. Her voice came out much more reluctant than she anticipated, she hadn’t seen many visitors in her time here. Most of the time she played by herself in her room or sometimes watched the people of New Orleans walk the street at nighttime. She gazed upon the burly man, taking in his presence that made her wolf whine on the inside. Something about his scent notified her that there was a part of him missing. Before she could dwell longer her mama interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Would you like to feed her?” The witch questioned, hoping he would, it was unfortunate, but she would have to understand she would no longer be the one to take care of the reader. Her heart was crushed just thinking about removing the littles' favourite pieces in the room condensed into a tote bag within the hour. Smiling sadly at the precious pup in her arms playing with the vampire's fingers, she distracted herself by creating a bottle of pure milk into the once empty one on the side table.

“Up and about. There you go, my little love.”

Stefan smiled for the first time in a while since he had given his humanity to Klaus without repercussions or any thoughts filling his mind thinking of the death of the love of his life. Before he could think further he felt the flush of the wolf's head find its way to his shoulders awaiting the bottle he held with no use from him. The previous scent of her hair crème against her raven skin was heaven-sent, he couldn't imagine comparing this to anything else. He breathed in deep that savoury scent he could relish in for the entirety of his life. It was almost off how comfortable she got in his arms and scented him, so different from each fight he had with vampires and full grow werewolves. The pup was so trusting or the most obvious was the fact that her caregiver was only a foot away and held powers of a thousand witches in the palm of her hand.

“It’s now or never Stefan. She’s getting fussy.” Gloria became fond of the quick response to her words the vampire had. The man maneuvered the reader close to the inner elbow of his arm, cradling her head against it for support. Before he began aligning the bottle to her already open and starving mouth and soon she began suckling. They both heard the sounds that resembled a baby drinking its mothers' nutrition in the early morning before starting the day. In other circumstances, Gloria would begin feeding her while walking to the common areas of the apartment to collect the things the little one would need to start the day. Or the reader would do it herself when she was feeling older.

A hesitant smile formed on his lips holding the reader's head against the left inner elbow not before using the gentlest touch to move the strands of curls that stuck out against her face. With a deep breath, he scooped up the bottle that mysteriously had filled with warm milk into his right hand aligning it to the hungry little one in his arms. Stefan observed her movements like he was sightseeing, her lips covered the nipple of the bottle before it filled her mouth with droplets of milk filling her growling belly. The sounds of tiny suckles filled the supernatural entities with pure joy. The thoughts of keeping the image of being this ripper disappeared into the room's environment into nothing. This moment here was something so beautiful he didn’t want to give her up to Damon and Elena.

Pushing these sinister thoughts away he watched his hands without much knowledge of what he was doing, to the side of the reader's hips in a rhythm he memorized his late mother used when he was younger. He could feel the pup's chest vibrate liking the sensation of his rough hands patting her soothingly. Soon enough she engulfed the bottle in twelve consecutive minutes leaving her mouth to make a recall sound letting him know she was finished.

Knowing of the routine Gloria grasped a cloth into her own before placing it on Stefan’s shoulders. Connected eyes with him she nodded, watching the vampire softly place the reader's head on his shoulder to burp the pesky bubbles out of her belly. He laughed to himself seeing the eyes of pups closed calmly and how her legs were like jelly against his torso. It was quite a sight.

Once she burped out anything that was stuck in her throat watching her mama pull away to cloth before she squished her face into Stefan’s neck. She hoped to stay in this crevice of his body for a while, none of her stuffies gave her this feeling, maybe because they weren’t real.

“She likes you.” Gloria beamed sadly holding the empty bottle, getting up smoothly border taking her leave of the room. She had to prepare to clean and pack a bag for her little one. As well, to make a herbal tea she would ask Stefan to have her drink from time to time to protect her energy. She hoped the deranged hybrid won’t find the lost wolf pup as he would change her to be like him like the speed of light. Fuck she couldn’t bring herself to just abandon the poor thing, she would need some form of an excuse to see her every month.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Damon swindled his way against the chilled bathtub of the bathroom connected to his bedroom. His back barely hit the cool bottom of the tub before he began looking for a more comfortable position. The man being over a hundred forty-five vampires had its kinks and one of them was stubborn on his back and neck. The damned thing clicked out of place at any given moment after he had fought an idiot who dared to attack the drunken asshole. He tense before letting out a sigh in content, it wasn’t long before he pulled the bottle of champagne from the bathroom floor into a glass.

A swift swallow in relaxation reminded him of the times he was human, laying out against the grass and the sun beamed on his milk skin for hours before he was rudely pulled out of that blissful state by his overbearing father. Maybe that was why he was the way he was, the dammed. The recoil of his fathers' disapproval secretly mended him to the vampire he was today. Godsend. He began distracting himself from his thoughts of his personality that somehow some tolerated by pouring an overload of bubble bath that was scented of husk from dear Elena into the bath. The white substance coated the body deliberately, pure relaxation was a must in this state. Hey! vampire can like bubble baths too.

Though, there wasn’t much he could think of when he was left alone with his thoughts running wild into spaces he concealed with impulsive decisions without thinking about the consequences for anyone involved. A common goal was all that he knew and clouded his judgement, like Elena. How much she wanted to know here Stefan did with his time while being in the presence of an original vampire that tortured for fun.

Damon lived for torment but when it came to his brother, who would come back into his life to take the girl he loved right back out from under him. He still wanted his little brother, the one who banter amongst either of the Mystic Falls humans they still fought like hell for. He laughed to himself getting sentimental placing the glass of champagne on his lips and taking a long sip.

It didn’t last long. His eyes plummeted at the sound of his front door opening, heavy footsteps and a scent of something he hadn’t smelt covered his nostrils more than the bubbles did. Damon gritted his teeth, swirling his head in distaste before forcing the bottle of champagne on the floor lifting himself to stand tall. The suds fell slowly down his body promptly to his feet that extended outside the tub. His motion cause water to pool onto the floor, though it would dry he would be dammed to know who entered the Salvatore home unannounced. Adding to the fact they ruined his needed self-care.

Before departing to the area where he knew the culprit would be, he placed a black robe around his body and tied the given straps on top of his waist. Damon made his way underneath the bedside table that hid a wooden stake for the times Katherine made appearances. He felt his weight shift between each step to the downstairs corridor before he became dazed with a familiar scent. The vampire was quick but cautious in his movements as before he wasn’t sure who had made their way into his home but now he was. The husk of a teenage boy sat alarmingly quiet at the fireplace, facing the floor before Damon stepped on a cracking piece of the floor. He was quite surprised by the confidence of the dead Jeremy Gilbert who was here to try his best to kill him that awfully made stake he was fiddling with. Thank goodness he wasn’t really in the mood to fight ninja turtles right now.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the boy's ear before he walked closer to the bar table to pour himself a drink of course. The teen looked as if he had seen a ghost, the man knew of his presence before he did. Jeremy sucked in a breath through his teeth removing the hoodie that was placed on his head. His black shaggy hair flopped on his forehead peeking through it. He thought lengthy to what the man had stated to him, his sister was preoccupied with Stefan’s whereabouts to know he was planning on killing Damon with the poorly made stake. Neither did he expect the vampire to continue pouring a glass of bourbon picking one up to give to him. They both sighed contently in each-others presence drowning in the sorrows of their siblings' absence.

“Did you come here to kill me? You’ll need a better weapon.”

“It’s only fair you did kill me.” Jeremy gave a smug look on his face knowing he wore a ring that prevented him from meeting the other side of being amongst the living. Although the facade was seen by those who looked close enough, he was constantly reminded by the trip there left him cold, leading him to understand he was meant to look for his body. His against the odds of staying in this state for too long could lead to him being stuck. Although Jeremys' body was close, he still felt his soul shift energies leaving him eerie and dark trying to find something to fill that void. He thought by killing Damon it would.

“Look I don’t do the big brother thing very well. Sorry, I don’t have any milk and cookies to offer you.” The brunette bit his lip feeling a heavy ache on his shoulders hearing his words. He knew to never expect anything less from the vampire, but maybe if he gave him some sort of closure he wouldn’t have been struck by gloom. It was almost like a cloud of it shadowed his being with no regard for why it sat polished on his shoulders.

That once smug look on his face turned sour.

“Dick.” To pick up where he left off he stood abruptly from the chair he sat in, taking his final departure from the Salvatore boarding house. The sound of the glass that was once being held in his hand alongside the stake felt broken on the carpet. The teen couldn’t care less about the mess he was making in a vampire's home, the guy was an asshole and he didn’t deserve his sisters' attention or the unrecognized love she had for him. There was almost steam coming from the top of his head from the fumes, he took one look back at the vampire before he finally walked his way to the front door.

A deep breath came from his chest pulling on the door handle, however, he didn’t expect to see the unpredictable.

Stefan Salvatore standing with his hands in his leather jacket. He liked almost the same except for the worn look of fatigue on his face, it showed heavily underneath his eyelids. The age of being under the compulsion of a damned hybrid they forced those around him to be the same. Klaus and his ways didn’t care about the ones that sat and were forced to watch. Jeremy couldn’t mask the shocked face he displayed to the vampire without thinking back to the question of why he was here, to begin with. How much more shit could Elena deal with before she snapped at seeing him again?

“Jeremy.” Stefan's voice sounded nothing less than smug sighting the shocked look that struck on his face. The act of surprise was something the vampire secretly loved when it came to victims thinking they were safe then he would display his presence to them. It wasn’t the same way as he looked Jeremy, the boy had grown taller from what he could imagine was only four inches higher than himself. Though was the young Gilbert even at the boarding house, to begin with? Had Damon had him under some stupid spiel to get Elena in his good graces?

Stefan bit his tongue from using his uncontrollable words in the man’s presence that he knew was sitting on the couch facing the unlit fireplace. He took one last breath before asking Jeremy a simple question so he could ask his brother for a favour. Though before he could the boy beat him to it.

“Damon you might want to come here.”

“Look, Jeremy, I’ll say I’m sorry. I’m not good with this whole thing.” Damon took several steps to the entryway of his home before his words died off at the end. He felt frozen in his spot, he indeed didn’t expect to see Stefan again after the star he left in. Was he here with the hybrid? The vampire shrugged his arms over themselves displaying his distaste for him to come back to Mystic Falls too soon for Elena’s sake. With a glance to Jeremy who had a look in his eyes, he bite his tongue before speaking.

“And what are you doing here Stefan?” Damon questioned smouldering the non-existent attendance he had in his mind. He caught his brother unattended looking at the parked car that was sloppily parked in the driveway. Hearing those words, Stefan took a step back, he of course knew his presence would strike some nerves from everyone but to see it on full display alarmed a certain part of his brain to push itself to the surface once again. He had been fighting it all day. His humanity. Not only from the wolf pup that would probably be waking up anytime soon from the unmoving car for something to eat. But to pass by the places that he and Elena would always visit. Goodness, he needs to get out of Mystic Falls before he goes back to Klaus and smells the humanity on him.

“I need a favour.”

“So you show up unannounced asking for a favour? Fuck off, Stefan.” The young Salvatore flared his eyebrows close to the gap between his eyelids, he couldn’t recall a time he was genuinely unhappy to see him. Border he lashed out from the scoff that came from the door almost being slammed in his face. He watched Jeremy move his foot forward before the gap closed between the two worlds. The boy walked in front of Damon gifting the man a look to go on pleading for whatever this favour would be.

“Wait here. I’ll go get it.” It? Was it some silly little book that would eventually curse all the bloodlines that so happen to be inside the boarding house? They both gave each other a look before watching Stefan gravitate toward the truck that we most definitely not his. With a deep breath, he placed his hand on the truck handle pulling it open to reveal a distressed little one that was biting the surrounding areas of her fingernails. She had been awake a lot longer than he intended, he felt so bad knowing she was strapped between the seatbelts and blanket he pressed into the sides of her legs. The tears that silently streamed down her face didn’t help the decision he would make by leaving her with his demented older brother. Maybe instead he could have him convince Elena too, goodness this was all just a dumb idea he got way too in over his head.

But as he looked at her grabby hands she gave him and the thick lashes that were smudged against the tears, he swallowed thickly. Y/n didn’t deserve people debating on whether or not she would have a life of comfort. He began removing the blankets and then the seatbelts to formally place her against his chest so that if he needed he could high tail out of there before any of them could taint her mind. The reader's tears became yesterday's problem once she felt Stefan’s finger swipe the water away from pooling against her freckled cheeks. Then her head was softly placed against her newly favourite place between his shoulder and neck with a soft hand on the back of her head. Before she felt the soft blanket she was once cradled against on her back once more. It was her favourite scent, between Gloria and her bed back home with her. She kissed her already and it barely was a day.

“I have people I want you to meet. Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” Stefan looked down at the girl's cradled figure on this side of his chest awaiting a response before he turned around to face the curiosity of Damon and Jeremy. He smiled softly to himself at what his current state was, a little in his arms while holding a diaper bag filled with everything she needed. If you would have told him this is what his life would look like a year ago, he would have looked at you as if you were crazy. He felt her nod against his chest before he eventually took a step to not only close the truck door but to face the entryway of the Salvatore boarding house.

Damon was the first to react to the newcomer in the man’s arms, pushing his way between the doorway his curiosity taking over everything he was planning on being. He truly didn’t expect to be in the sight of something so small in the presence of someone like himself. The vampire took a step back to observe from the sidelines watching Jeremy behave differently. He took it upon himself to grab the bag from Stefan’s left hand. He picked up on the scent of something he hadn’t smelled since he killed Mason Lockwood in this very home. Though it struck of something lighter and less potent as if it was smaller. This being was a pup of a werewolf pack but didn’t smell of though it was currently a part of one.

Jeremy couldn’t help himself from taking the tiniest glance at the bundle of joy wrapped in the thickest blanket he had seen attached to none other than a vampire that had almost killed his dear sister. He proceeded to walk into the living room to place the light pink diaper bag next to the couch. Y/n took in the world around, the deep darkness of the wooden panels that filled the unknown place that Stefan seemed so familiar with. She scented the place with a wiggly nose before her breath caught in the back of her throat feeling someone come close enough to grab her baby bag. Was this man a thief?

“H-hi.” She broke the light silence that filled the room she was walking into, on top of the fact that her mama had always told her to be nice to those who deserved it. She lifted her head slightly getting a better look at the brunette who was somewhat human in the room of supernatural entities. No one could deny the atmosphere of the room change as she was softly placed on the couch away from the warmth of Stefan’s chest and neck. She kept a small smile on her face pacing her tiny hand in front of the blanket that was tribally placed on her lap and socked feet.

“Care to explain?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the air barely taking his eyes off the wolf pup on his couch. He gripped the robe closer to his skin, gifting them both his signature smirk that would work for those under his charms. The vampire took a glance at his little brother, the worn fatigue and clear deepness under his eyes from the lengthy trip of being Klaus’ pet. The slight cherry hue on his lips from the possibility of ravishing a human before coming to Mystic Falls. He couldn’t acknowledge the unknown scent that seemed to come full force through his heightened senses.

Stefan took a slight breath before he dumped everything that happened in last hours since he left high and dry from Mystic Falls all together. He carried himself from his standing position to sitting himself next the little that was already hoping he would. The reader was already appreciating his presences and the beautiful ring that sat on his finger she liked to play with.

“Would you mind taking her to the kitchen to grab a snack for her, Jer?” This surprised him completely he hadn’t expected himself to be so fond of someone’s feelings despite his humanity being on the outs. The vampire couldn’t help himself in doing so, he continued to hold her hand for a few seconds with a dewy smile on his face. Before he gasped the bag was on the floor of the couch to hand to Jeremy. He jerked his head towards the kitchen awaiting his response before hearing the boy tell her about the animal-shaped crackers she never had before in the cabinet.

( No one cares about their banter. NEXT!)

The reader wrapped her tiny hand in between the unfamiliar male's hand feeling the light texture of tattoos she subconsciously traced with her painted fingers. She could already feel the rising warmth that came from being head to chest with the waking figure towards the deepness of the kitchen. It was beautiful, though it seemed to be unused compared to the one her mama had. All she recognized was the raging amounts of alcohol on the opposing sides of the sodden stools in front of the counter. The wolf began to lose the skip in her steps as she felt the man slow down his pace. She took a glance upwards to gift the man a small smile, though he was already looking at her feeling nervous by his gaze she lifted her other hand and gifted him a small wave.

“Hi. I’m y/n. Y-You’re Jeremy, right?” It was weird just how comfortable she was being pooled into those pretty chocolate soul catches he called his eyes. She felt him move his gaze over her face causing a slip of a stutter to come front at the end seeing him do so. They both stood in from the counters of the kitchen taking in each other's beings while she took in his delicate human scent she hadn’t been around in years since with Mama. Jeremy almost had a heart attack hearing the words she stuttered over, licking his dry lips trying to find the right thing to say to her. He noticed that he was still holding her in comparison to his small hand didn’t help.

“Yeah, I am. What do you want for a snack, little lady?”Jeremy shook their intertwined to regain her attention from his face. Although he would never consider himself cocky in any way he still smirked internally after seeing her blink away her dewy eyes away from his. He pulls her hand once more finally taking the long awaiting stop to the fridge for her to see. The reader took in the minimal amount of snacks and drinks that were in it. She knew they were vampires by holy was there only a half-full orange juice container, a cartoon of eggs and expired milk. Although she was disappointed she removed her hand from Jeremy feelings intensely cold from the action to proceed to open the diaper bag to find her favourite snacks.

She handled him the basic puffs of strawberry banana bites that quite literally melted in her mouth. Not even acknowledging the mess she created in the bag she continued to display the puffs to Jeremy who gladly opened the container not before popping one in his mouth to her distaste after handing them back to her.

“Can I have some orange juice?” The reader questioned the man messily eating standing chest to chest to the man liking the feeling of his fluffy sweatshirt on her cheek. Her chin rested perfectly there looking upwards with that stupidly cute dimple that showed, switching between each eye of his to look a tiny bit closer. Jeremy pinched his fingernail on his palm looking down at her chubby cheeks and light wash of powder from the puffs. He reminded his hand from the sides of his body to lightly brush away the powder that stuck to her lips and slightly in her cheeks.

“Uh yeah. Why don’t you go sit in the chair, okay?”At first, watched her struggle to climb on the spinning chair but gave up in the mix of it. The man took it upon himself to quietly ask her if she wanted any help. So here he was softly placing his hands underneath her armpits to lift her to sit against the chair. The warmth of each other's skin to skin gave off a rumble between each-other chests that could have easily been mistaken for a hungry cry. But to a wolf pup, it was something completely different in her eyes. She began by taking in his eyes like they were meant to uphold hers, before feeling the chilled barstool he ever so gently placed her on top. They both felt instantly disappointed without the skin to skin but she still happily thanked him for doing, kindly offering him a puff in his much larger hand. Jeremy could help but smile at a small gesture, he took a step back to the opposing countertop to look at the diaper bag that he had previously placed on the dining room table a mason jar of vervain and herbs assorted inside, taking a glance back to y/n that was currently swaying her legs to the hums of her own throat. He turned back around to look at the mixture not thinking much longer to crumble them inside the juice before closing it back up and shaking it to face the girl.

“Maybe we can hang out sometime? Away from the supernatural, the vampire kind at least.” Jeremy placed the bottle to her lips as her hands were occupied by the puffs and looking around distracted by none other than himself. Still suckling on the off-tasting orange juice, that chilled her dry thirst as she began to nod at his question. He removed the bottle from her mouth allowing her to gift herself with the glory of his, all she thought of was how much she would love to be lifted by his arms and held close like she was with Stefan just a moment prior. They looked into each other's eyes warmly gifting one other a smile before they both liked away.

Across the home in the living room, two vampires listened closely to the little one's mannerisms toward the unseen boy and the way he spoke softly and seemed so smitten by one other so quickly. It was clear that part of herself was called to the boy named Jeremy. Gloria was right, he might have been the thing to encounter to meet the person who was perfect for her.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ part two

🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I hope you enjoyed it!! 💗 please don’t be a silent reader, let me know what you think⋆୨୧˚

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cas-kingdom · 2 years

Note

'Humans are dispensable.' (Maybe VD?)

A/N: Probably set sometime during season 1.

“Humans are dispensable.” Damon said with a wave of his hand in a perfectly Damon manner. His words were tinted with a characteristic, couldn’t-care-less amusement as Stefan stood in the middle of the room, his fists clenching by his sides.

“She isn’t you, Damon,” Stefan said, the edge in his voice barely concealed by his slow, pronounced words. “She doesn’t pick the ones she loves for a good time. She doesn’t take them at face value. She doesn’t decide based entirely on whether they’re dead or alive.”

“I do not do that!”

Stefan sighed. He shook his head and turned towards the stairs, his eyes softening when he noticed you sat at the top step. You’d rushed to your room after you’d returned from the hospital, but he would have been stupid to think you wouldn’t be lying awake on your bed, all senses attuned to the conversation occurring between your brothers downstairs. It was for that reason most of all that Stefan wished Damon could just listen for once with the same attentiveness and understanding he’d once possessed as a human. Apparently, their decades away from each other had given him no kindness in the way of emotions.

“Look, Damon,” Stefan ground out, “just leave it, alright? She doesn’t need this from anyone, let alone from you.” He stepped closer, his expression turning earnest as he lowered his voice, as though that would stop you from hearing. “Don’t mess around with her,” he whispered harshly, “you might be able to withstand that but she’s not. This wasn’t a random human she met on her walk home. His name was Scotty, and before you arrived here, they’d been together—together, Damon—for a year.”

Damon frowned, twisting his mouth in contemplation. “So...not dispensable?”

As Stefan had been gearing up to respond, yell something like “this isn’t funny” in his his face until he grasped the concept of compassion, he heard you race down the stairs. In a second, you were standing between them, your face, red and wet from crying, glaring fiercely up at the elder of the two.

“The only dispensable one here is you, Damon," you said.

Damon tossed both hands up, eyes growing wide. “Hey. Kiddo. Look…if I said something—“

“Said something? Damon, your entire being is worth apologising for.” Your voice shook with concealed fury. Damon spared a glance at Stefan, maybe a plea for help, but Stefan crossed his arms and stepped back, a clear ‘do it yourself’ motion. He had made his bed, and he needed to sit right in the middle of it and, for once, deal with the consequences of his words.

“Dispensable?” you continued. “Fuck you. Fuck you. He is the most indispensable person, human or vampire, that I know.” Your mouth fell open slightly and you took a deep, unneeded breath in before you corrected yoursel. “Knew.”

Damon blinked for a moment, his senses returning to him as he took in the look on your face and the totally, non-joking tremor to your words. He had a faulty habit of not treating serious things seriously, and vice versa. He crossed his arms and welcomed a sincere glint to his eyes. “You really liked this boy, didn’t you?” he speculated, an assertion, really, that had Stefan rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, so desperately wanting to say something but just as desperately willing this conversation to happen between his siblings alone.

You breathed an unamused laugh. “You can’t arrive here out of the blue and assume you know everything about me,” you said, then spun on your heel, throwing your head in your hands as you walked towards the couch and sat down. “I’m not the same as I was when you left,” you spoke quieter after a moment, her face hidden in your hands. “I…I loved…”

Stefan lowered his arms and moved to sit beside you. “Y/N…”

“Do you know what makes it worse?” you burst out, lifting your face from your hands to stare open-mouthed at the opposite wall. Damon stayed away for now, knowing he wasn’t the brother you currently needed. “It wasn’t even me that got him killed. Because that’s what I thought would happen, you know? I’m contagious, you’re contagious, we’re all contagious. Being a vampire is a transmissible disease. Any human we get close to ends up hurt or dead. And I…I expected that. I waited for that.” You bit hard at your inner cheek and filled your lungs with a deep and redundant breath, keeping your eyes from getting glassy with the tears you could feel coming. “But Scotty once said I was worth it. Worth his, a human’s, love. And I didn’t kill him! Nothing about me is why he’s dead!” You visibly deflated, not noticing as Stefan’s hand came to rest between your shoulder blades and Damon edged closer, eventually reaching the armchair across from you and sitting quietly down. There was something there now, Stefan could tell, and he felt relief flood him, knowing that they were, for at least the next ten minutes, the adults in the situation.

“I sensed the cancer before he got diagnosed, you know,” you said, and Damon knew you could only be talking to him. From what he remembered, Scotty Meredith had been diagnosed with terminal leukaemia a month or so before Damon had even returned to Mystic Falls, and today, three months later, it’d gotten him. Stefan had stayed beside you every step of the way, like the good brother he’d been since the day he’d turned you. Meanwhile, Damon had been...elsewhere.

Yes, you were speaking to him, and he pricked his ears this time and listened with the fullest intent of acting upon it.

“I tried to get to him to turn, because that’s the kinda desperate mindset I was in before you got here,” you continued, finally flicking your eyes up to meet Damon’s. “But he didn’t want to. And now he’s dead. So no, Damon, humans are not dispensable, and certainly not Scotty. Because he was the most necessary thing in my existence. I needed him—I need him. I want him. I really, really just want him here, but it’s not possible, ‘cause he’s dead, and I’m just...eternal—and it’s not fair—” Your eyes squeezed shut as words turned stiff on your tongue. Stefan wrapped his arm around you, shifting closer to you on the couch and pulling you into his side. You fell against him, turning your face into his shoulder and breaking into sobs both brothers could tell you’d been keeping at bay since you’d felt Scotty let go.

“Hey, hey,” Stefan spoke quietly into your hair, soothing you as much as he could. He glanced at Damon over your head, the both of you exchanging silent conversation with your eyes.

Damon sighed and straightened in his chair. “Scotty sounds...impressive.” That was all he could think of saying, but Stefan didn’t look to disagree, probably grateful Damon was even trying. “Sounds like I would’ve liked him.”

There was a silence in which Damon attempted to pass on another message to Stefan with his eyes, wondering whether he needed to say more or if he should just be patient, but Stefan ignored him, focused entirely on the sobbing girl in his arms. It was an odd thing, something that caused a swirl of jealousy to rear its ugly head in Damon’s gut when he remembered that he’d once been that person for you.

You moved your head, residual sniffles muffled against Stefan’s shoulder. “I honestly think you would have gotten on well,” you said then, reaching up to wipe at your nose. “You’d both be capable of putting up with the other’s shit.”

Damon smiled in what could only be a feeling of victory. “Great minds, huh?”

You sat up, brushing hair from your face, and turned to face Damon. “No human is dispensable,” you repeated. “Everyone’s got their place in the world. I did love him. We were real.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

“And you’re an absolute asshole.”

Damon laughed, bumping an eyebrow. “I know that too, yeah. Come here, you.” It was an instinctive order, something he’d repeated hundreds of times in their human years, and he’d said it on an impulse, opening his arms and falling back against his chair. You faltered, remaining where you were, and he grimaced, sitting back up and dropping his arms. He looked at Stefan. Stefan urged him with his eyes, pressing his lips together in a tight line.

“Y/N, kiddo...” Damon leaned forward, lacing his fingers on his knees. “I’m sorry. For everything I said, and probably will say. It won’t be on purpose. Just...takes a while for me to understand.”

You nodded. “I know,” you said, and you did. Damon could be especially considerate when he took the time to understand, he simply needed to get back into so-called family life. He’d been away for too long.

You leant your head against Stefan for one more moment before standing. Damon sat back again, opening his arms, and you couldn’t help but sniffle and laugh, reaching up to wipe at your eyes just as Damon grasped your forearm and pulled you onto his lap. You drew your knees towards you and curled up against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. This new comfort, something you’d needed just as much as the hugs from Stefan, caused a fresh wave of emotion to rush over you, and you turned your face into him as you had Stefan. Damon glanced at Stefan, who shook his head.

If there was one thing a vampire could still find a struggle, it was their baby sister’s tears.

“We got you, Y/N,” Damon whispered. “Always.”

TVD Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

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bluemargotrobbie · 4 months

Text

Elijah y Olivia 😏

Tras poder despertar de las pesadillas que su madre Esther le puso, sintiéndose el mismo, Klaus decide enviarlo junto a Rebekah a proteger a Hope, pero primero debían destruir a su hermano y madre ...para eso Arielle le pide a Olivia que vigilé a Elijah y cuide de su hija..

Pero se puede percibir la tensión que hay entre aquellos dos...

📖: 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

📚: Future Nostalgia Saga

🖋: scarletqueenx (wattpad)

🎟️: scarletqueenx ( tik tok)

🌍: TVDU

👤: Arielle Salvatore

#the originals fanfiction #the originals #the vampire diaries #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson imagine #olivia bluemoon #witch #witchcraft #originals witch #hope mikaelson #baby hope #arielle Salvatore #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #rebekah mikaelson #esther mikaelson #little nightmares

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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 years

Text

Was anybody gonna tell me that damon was a submissive little baby back in the civil war era. Because I just watched the scene where katherine was teaching him how to hunt for the first time and omfg-

He was so cute, such a baby. 1864 damon is baby <3

#i honestly always saw him as more of a bratty power bottom bc of his attitude #but that scene is really making me rethink some things here #baby. damon is baby <3 #i wanna write a fic set in 1864 with him being a whiny sub #mosses random thoughts #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Salvatore

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: a secretary with an attitude problem, a DEA agent with an insolence problem. years ago, you'd stopped hoping for his character to improve, but he's still gunning to set you straight. it’s the worst day of your life, and javier peña aims to take advantage of that.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content, fem afab reader, mentions of reader having long hair, bratty!reader, brat-tamer!javi, alcohol consumption, smoking, pet names, (so much smoking, I’m sorry but it’s narcos), dubcon (slight intoxication, coercion if you really, really squint)

beta reader: @millllenniawrites that’s BABIE

word count: 10.3k (imsosorry)

no use of y/n in this fic

hey y’all ! i said i had a longer javi fic in store and i was not kidding lmfao !!! slight warning, the reader is a bit of an asshole so teaaaaa. anyhow, don’t forget to join the taglist if you’re nasty, and feedback & comments are always welcome mwah mwah -em<3

PS: to my non-canadian readers, a dart is a cigarette lmao

—

Read Part 2: Playing Dangerous

—

Nothing ever went to plan with Peña around.

It was a curse. A nightmare. You were so careful with your agenda, making sure meetings with the ambassador happened on time, every time, and uninterrupted. When that didn’t happen? It was your ass on the line. And when that didn’t happen? It was always because of agent Peña.

“I can’t let you in, right now,” you hiss, tired of repeating yourself. “She specifically told me not to let people in. Not to let you in,” you add, pointing a finger at his chest.

“Aw, c’mon,” Peña’s murmured supplication rolls off his tongue, “It’s real important.”

You huff indignantly. Keeping your voice low, you retort, “Every time it’s life or death, Peña—”

“Why don’t you ever call me Javier, sweetheart?” A playful twinkle dances in his twilit eyes. “You’ve known me longer than any of the other girls I’m on a first name basis with, here.”

It was true. You’d been working at the embassy for ages, now, babysitting big-headed politicians or power-drunk DEA agents and soldiers. Peña was the worst of them all, solely in virtue of the fact that he knew he could get away with everything. Men loved him because he was tough, charismatic, and capable; women loved him because he was tough, charismatic, capable, and looked like a vintage pornstar. It only took you a month at the job to grow violently sick of hearing his name cherished on the lips of your female coworkers, forced to listen to the gorey details of nearly every. single. office. conquest.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst might’ve been when his ‘informants’ called, their mewling voices asking to leave a message for ‘Javi.’ Or, it might’ve been the culminating effect of his reaping the rewards, time after time, for his insolence, gaining respect, praise, pussy—and all because he never fucking listened.

Years came and went, and somewhere down the line you’d accepted that Javier Peña was simply destined to be a lifelong affliction.

Now, standing before you in his ruffled, tan button-up, his loosely unkempt hair cascading into his eyes, he reminds you of a lost, stray cat.

He was anything but.

Receptionists, assistants, secretaries… you had long been the secret-keepers of the world. It wasn’t that you were ignorant of the part you played in the DEA’s more indelicate proceedings; but, still, you maintained that there was a clear difference between transferring phone calls or scheduling meetings and torturing men to death for information.

Gazing into Peña��s umber eyes only flooded your head with scenes of casual violence—no doubt, they were a sight, which always made you wonder how many times they’d been someone’s last.

You’d heard stories.

Sucking in a lengthy inhalation, your glare meets his roguish expression.

“I will call you 'Javier',” you counter, soaking his name in scorn, “When you stop calling me 'sweetheart'.” He smirks at that, leaning his palms on your desk, forearms flexing as they face you. “And 'angel',” you persist. “And 'darling' and 'doll' and 'hey you' and whatever else you’ve called me over the years.”

A smile. “Never realized you were keeping a list.” You roll your eyes. “If only you’d told me, angel, I’d’ve been more creative.”

You sigh, increasingly irritated by his imposition. Leaning back to cross your arms and legs, you torture him with silence.

“You’re seriously not gonna let me in?”

The slight, entitled whine underpinning his tone brings you immense satisfaction. You shake your head, ‘nope', and watch his mustache twitch impatiently in response.

Peña takes a second to gather his thoughts before rapping his knuckles against the hardwood, loosing a huff of irritation.

“Know what your problem is, sweetheart?” He muses, his stare shadowed under thick eyebrows.

“No, I don't, Peña,” you reply sardonically, curling your hands under your chin, beaming at him in mock engrossment. “Please, do indulge me.”

He smirks. “You’re wound up wayyy too tight.” He eats you alive with a mere look. “And someday? Someone’s gonna have to break you in.”

“If you gave me the honour,” the agent continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low purr as he stoops to lean over you, shirt creasing around the broad muscles of his shoulders.

“I’d have you screamin’ my name like a prayer.”

Words fail you. Gaping up at his sinful expression, you’re wide-eyed, lips parting softly in surprise—he drinks in his effect, watching you squirm below him like a mouse caught in a trap.

Despite your rocky history, you can’t help your intrigue at the invitation burning right there in his eyes, tempting… and… promising—

The ambassador’s doors whoosh open, causing you to jump in your seat. Jolting up, you clumsily rearrange your stationary, suddenly very preoccupied with adjusting your skirt, your collar, your hair. Peña straightens casually, tightening his tie and clearing his throat as a flighty officer emerges from the office, quickly disappearing down the hall.

Ambassador Noonan appears in the doorway. She fixes her exasperated gaze on your most unwelcome guest.

“Ambassador,” Peña greets, his flirtatious baritone blanketing you like a wave of thick, late-August air. “Your assistant was just about to send me in.”

Rage joins the confusing cocktail of emotions swirling in your middle as your cheeks grow red-hot.

“Give her a break, Peña,” Noonan scoffs, strolling back into her office. “Or I’ll have you on desk duty til’ next year.”

“It’s urgent, ambassador,” Peña calls after her, suddenly serious. There’s a loaded silence before a grumbled ‘two minutes’ echoes from inside the room.

You hate when he wins.

He saunters in without a glance, without a word, sealing the big doors shut behind him.

Dropping your forehead to your desk, the cool hardwood relieves the stubborn hotness under your skin. Your thoughts race faster than you can endeavour to keep up with.

What was that?

It wasn’t unusual for your feelings to run wild whenever the two of you went head to head, but never before had Peña gotten you… excited.

Tempted.

Were you going insane?

Or, maybe—just maybe… was the fucker right? It had been some time since you’d allowed yourself an unhealthy indulgence.

Still, the thought of Peña being right about anything was fundamentally incompatible with your psychological makeup.

So, you try to snap out of it.

You hated Peña. You hated his car, his clothes, and his watch. You hated his stupid mustache and the crinkles that formed by his eyes when he laughed in big, hearty heaves. You hated his velvet-smooth voice and his fluffy hair and his massive, toned shoulders and his full, pouty, teasing lips and—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

You hated nothing more than yourself, in that moment, unable to purge your mind of the agent, his corrupted expression etched on the back of your eyelids as if Michelangelo had carved him there himself.

—

Rolled cigarettes aside, your most reproachful habit was taking (conderably lengthy) lunch breaks in your shit-box Chevrolet. On one hand, the solitude allowed an escape from the frantic embassy environment; on the other hand, your isolation left you vulnerable, at the mercy of whoever decided to accost you, processing the always headache-inducing events of the morning in the driver’s seat of your car. It happened all-too-frequently: a disgruntled diplomat tapping at the glass post-meeting to snap at you for your boss’s rigidity.

Get me a meeting with someone else, girl.

(How about you get a real job, dick?)

Feet up on the dash, you’re tuned in to the low hums crackling off the old radio speakers, seat down, eyes closed for the ultimate unwinding experience. It's not perfect: the passenger side window had recently developed the unfortunate habit of sliding open (no matter how hard you forced it closed, writing an internal manifesto to GMC motors), so your mid-day meditations were punctuated by road-rage-induced swear words and honks.

Over and over a single sentence floats to the forefront of your mind, surfacing above all else: let this interminable day be over.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a brisk knock rattles the glass by your head.

White guy. Blonde hair. Scraggly mustache.

Murphy.

You take your time putting your seat back to an upright position, carefully lowering your feet to rest atop the floor pedals. Then, you crank the window down, kicking yourself for not choosing a more secluded location.

He smirks, no doubt amused by your spa-like, lunchtime activities. His strange (but not necessarily unpleasant) appearance always reminded you of a children’s cartoon character.

“Should’ve opted for a desk-job,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, and, instead of even giving him the gift of your full attention, you watch intently as a grey Ford pickup struggles to parallel park, half a block up the street.

“If you had to deal with cops like you and Peña for a living, you’d do the same, believe me.”

And you were beyond serious. Peña’s little stunt this morning had caused every damn meeting in Noonan’s already packed schedule to shift by not two, not ten, but twenty minutes. You’d been sworn at six times by ten-thirty.

Murphy nods in reluctant acknowledgement. “I’m guessing that means you’re not in the mood to do me any favours?”

An exasperated sigh. “Depends on what it is, I guess.”

Grimness settles over his features, a stark reminder of the nature of his job. He’s apprehensive in his delivery, already anticipating your wrath. “I need access to records.”

Of course he does. Immediately, you’re scowling.

“And why would I have that kind of clearance?” Your brazenness doesn’t shock him, but he flinches nonetheless. “Christ,” you seethe, “Sometimes I feel like the whole fucking world thinks I’m, like… Ali Baba, or some shit.”

That strange comparison entices a slow smile from him. It’s hard for you not to laugh at yourself, either, but you do your best to swallow it down, to hold to your contempt.

“I was just wondering if you could get me the right documents so that I could get clearance, Ali Baba.”

The corners of your lips lift, betraying your lingering ire. Murphy gives you a sympathetic kind of look, the kind that reminds you of a golden retriever, begging for scraps from the dinner table.

Oh, fuck it.

Murphy was always more pleasant than his counterpart, anyways. It felt alright to reward him for his good behaviour.

“Fine.”

He grins in celebration.

Damn it, you’re too nice.

Gotta stand your ground, somehow. “Tomorrow,” you add.

Murphy cringes. “Kinda need it today.”

“Well I can’t do it today, so it’s going to be tomorrow, alr—”

“What can’t we do today?”

Peña’s interjection through the half-open, defective passenger side window makes you jump for the second time in five minutes—this time, you kick yourself for choosing to put off that repair job. Before you can process, or even protest his arrival, he’s unlocked the door from the inside and climbed into the passenger seat. Leaning casually against the inside of the door, he looks arrogant as ever with his arms crossed, big biceps swelling under the fabric of his tan button-up.

And he’s leering at your addled state, feigned innocence dancing in those big, brown eyes.

Murphy stifles a snort.

“Get out of my car, Peña,” you grind out.

“Shouldn’t be driving this,” he muses, running his fingers along the hot, hard plastic of the dash. “Bad engines—what’s your address? We could carpool—I’d pick you up—y’know, get coffee…”

Murphy can’t help himself; he chuckles aloud at Peña’s goading. You round on him, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“That laugh just cost you your precious form, asshole.”

And you crank the window up, tuning out his stammered “naw, c’mon, j's wait—” until it becomes nothing more than white noise, something you could easily fall asleep to.

“Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Peña placates, “I’m just playing around.”

Murphy wanders off, no doubt scheming up his next attempt at persuading you into giving him what he so badly wanted, leaving you completely alone with his loathsome partner.

Right now and forever, it’s the last place you want to be.

“That’s all you do though, isn’t it?” You snap. “You and your little American—‘play around.’ Is the world just a big amusement park for guys like you? I mean, is anything ever real to you?”

He raises a testy eyebrow at that.

“You think that’s what we do?”

“I don’t really care what you do, Peña.” Reclining your seat, you close your eyes and cross your arms over your chest: a clear indication that you’d reached the end of your conversation.

“Yeah, you sure love saying that.”

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes closed at the rustling of his clothing. Your more hopeful side convinces itself that the agent might actually be on his way out of the Chevy; but, there’s a metallic clink, and your heart sinks as the smell of tobacco creeps up your nose.

So, he was planning to stay.

“Look, angel,” he drawls, “All we need’s a simple form. S’it.” There’s a pause as he takes a drag. When he continues, his voice is strained, constricting around the smoke. “No need for all this… prude shit.”

Tasting acid, seeing red, you spring up, addressing him head-on with a violent twist to the side. And he’s enjoying this, the bastard—relaxed as ever in the face of a wildfire, aiming to set him alight.

“You are the single most—”

At first you think it’s fireworks.

Your lungs empty out, burning as the force of a large hand, slammed against your chest, drains you of every last drop of oxygen. It flattens you against the worn-out fabric of the driver’s seat. You intend to shout as anger, fear, and surprise overwhelm you, but a palm claps over your mouth, muffling any possibility of sound. Pena’s half-smoked cigarette falls to the floor of the vehicle, tumbling clumsily past your cheek.

He hovers over you, deep-brown eyes enriched by an unfamiliar seriousness—a warning.

“Stay down and shut up,” he growls under his breath.

Almost reflexively, you’re nodding. You’d never heard that tone from him before, no doubt the same one he used to give his men orders. Stilling under the weight of his upper body, you focus your energy on controlling the volume of your hoarse exhalations as his hand slides off of your lips.

Carefully, he reaches down and over to his waistband, bringing out his handheld transceiver.

“Murphy.” His breath fans over your collarbones, seeping right through your dampened skin and into your rattling bones. You’re almost certain he can hear the fast drum of your heartbeat.

There’s a quiet crackling, and then a soft click followed by a grumbled, “Stay down. We’re tryna get eyes on him.”

Peña continues to shield you from view. You try your best not to meet his look of concentration—but, oh, the furrow of his brow, that worried slant at the corner of his lips—it pulls you in, asking to be studied with fascination.

You’d never seen him so focussed.

You’d never seen him in the field, either.

It could’ve been hours, trapped under the agent’s forearm, sweat prickling at the skin of your overlaid bodies. He grows dewy from the exertion of planking over you and the stifling heat of the Colombian sun.

You’re not quite sure why you suddenly feel so hot.

Maybe it’s those other scenarios you’re unable to stop yourself from conjuring up, in which you might find yourself crushed under the weight of the agent. Your traitorous mind designs the fantasies, projecting the scenes like x-rated movies inside your head.

So, you avoid looking at his eyes. And the triangle of tan, wet skin peeking out from beneath his unbuttoned collar. And the hard muscles pressing into your trembling form. Those, too.

When that doesn’t work, you think about bugs.

Your harmonized breathing is eventually interrupted by the crackle of static.

“We lost him–must’ve got picked up.” The frustration in his voice is evident. “But, anyways, you’re clear.”

Peña’s broad thumb presses into the device as he grunts, “You sure?”

After a beat, he gets his response.

“I’d risk your life, Peña, not the secretary’s.”

He smirks ever-so-subtly before shoving the transceiver back down his pocket. You find your voice, clearing your coarse throat as you try to tame the frantic butterflies in your stomach. “How nice of him.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. Peña traps you in his gaze—your stomach does a flip, catching the details of his rugged features as his nose hovers mere inches away from your own.

“Not even a ‘thank you, Javi’?”

Sickly sweetness battles alarm for control over your reply. “How about a ‘get the hell off me, ‘Javi’?”

After a smug smirk, he twists back to rest against the passenger seat. Still, he doesn’t take his eyes from you.

Plucking up his still-smoking cigarette, nearly at the filter, off the floor of the car, you remind yourself to breathe. There’s a heavy silence as you locate your lighter—as flame meets parted lips.

“Was it a gunshot, or do you make a habit of manhandling girls for fun?” You ask, dart dangling shakily from your lips as you huff a short pull. The jab does nothing to calm your nerves.

He lifts a hand to give his temples a brief rub. “You really want me to answer that?”

You nod, giving him a look with a bolded and italicized ‘obviously’ written all over it.

“Alright,” he extends a hand towards yours—you absentmindedly pass him the butt. He finishes it off before chucking it out the faulty window. “Some guy ten yards up had a piece pointed straight at your windshield. Didn’t feel like cleaning blood off of your dash, today, so forgive me for not being… gentle.”

The confirmation steals every rational thought from your reeling mind, every last modicum of oxygen from your lungs; you’re left quaking at the foot of your mounting fear.

So, understandably, your voice is an unsteady whisper when you choke out a, “My blood? Or yours?”

His face contorts, dark features growing strangely sympathetic. “Probably mine…” he takes a beat to piece together his thoughts. “But you do work at the embassy. Sicarios aren’t... specific with their targets.”

Despite the heat, a chill travels down your spine. Raising a trembling hand to your lips, you marvel at the feeling of being intact–-how precious that felt, all of a sudden.

“Probably mine, sweetheart,” he repeats, softly.

You nod, acknowledging his half-comfort. Peña pulls out the walkie-talkie once more.

“Can you get someone to walk her back inside?”

There’s a pause. A familiar song plays faintly over the radio: something you could easily hum along to but couldn’t quite name. And then, “Yeah—you wanna go after this guy?”

“Anyone who’s got the balls to pull this shit a block away from the embassy’s gotta be worth looking into,” Peña responds. Both he and Murphy sound so calm, as if this was nothing more than a routine check-in, as if this was just a regular day at the office.

Well, you remark, for them, it was.

The transceiver clicks off. A minute or two pass in tense, almost awkward silence. Finally, Peña clears his throat.

“About that form…”

Immediately, your terror is replaced by a more comfortable, more familiar ire as he continues on.

“Think you’d be willing to cooperate, now that I, y’know, saved your life?”

Incredible.

You gape at him in bewilderment. The adrenaline pumping all the way down to the tips of your fingers transforms into a different sort of beast—that bygone impulse to hide behind your hands becomes an overwhelming desire to wrap them around your company’s neck.

“Being in proximity with you almost cost me my life, Peña.” He opens his mouth to argue, but two officers appear, lining the driver’s side of the car. You pull the door handle towards you, harrumphing as you straighten up outside the Chevrolet.

When the both of you are free and standing, you whir on him, matching his look of disdain with your own.

“I owe you even less than I did before,” you spit across the roof of the car.

Saving yourself the trouble of his reaction, you cross the street without another word, heading back to the safety of the embassy with a dutiful soldier flanking you on either side.

But even once you’re in the air-conditioned hallways, between those thick, steel-supported walls, you’re angry and scared and confused—nothing seems to return to you your previous (and probably naive) sense of safety.

And somehow, that was Javier Peña’s fault.

—

Taking a long drag off your (twelfth) cigarette of the day, you savour the taste and the burn of the tobacco at the back of your tongue as you swallow down the smoke.

What a shitty fuckin’ shift.

Assassination attempts aside, you were to spend yet another late night at work because of some PR crisis you weren’t even totally sure you understood. Naturally, as the assistant, you were never relegated to the fun tasks—always on coffee duty, managing the phones, or playing the office shrink.

It was dull, useless work. Smoking alone in the darkness of the filing room was more interesting.

Maybe in another life, you were out on the streets, cleaning them up with your own two hands, handling things your way. In another life, you were in charge, calling the shots and firing them, too. Your mid-day fiasco had left you feeling completely inept and out of control—maybe a gun and some damn authority could change that.

It seemed to work for Murphy and Peña.

The former had already paid you a brief visit. ‘Couldn’t find him. We’ll be on it once all *this* shit blows over. Sure you don’t remember anything else?’

A corridor of light cascades down the other side of the room as the door creaks open, indicating that someone else had found your safe-haven.

Indicating that it was time to go.

Smudging the butt out on the crowded desk supporting you, you prepare for your re-emergence into the chaos. You scoot your way down the table, yanking down your pencil skirt once your feet hit the concrete floor. Without the dim light of your cigarette, you're engulfed in pitch-blackness with the door, now, shut. Fingertips extended before you, you feel your way around near-blindly, inching step-by-step towards (your rough estimation of the location of) the door.

You come into contact with something firm, tall, and very much alive.

“Wha-ow!” you yelp, losing balance and teetering back on your heels. A strong arm snakes behind your back, steadying your stumbling body. There’s a zip followed by a click as the stranger tugs on a wayward, dangling pull switch you hadn’t noticed on your own, and then a dusty, bare light bulb reveals the identity of your obstacle.

“You again?” You hiss.

“Are you smoking in here?” Peña returns, marvelling incredulously down at you.

You try to push yourself off of him, but his hold around your middle anchors you in place. He smells like men’s cologne and a dash of dark liquor. Neither of those scents had struck you earlier on in the day, even as his lips had hovered a mere inch above yours, nor when his body was pressed to your own like a damn weighted blanket. The drink was understandable, given him being… well, him, and the whole catastrophe—but, had he reapplied the perfume?

And why was that a relevant thought?

“Um, yeah?” You eventually respond, put-out by his bewilderment. Only a debaucher like Peña would have you penned as a square—likely, you were one, compared to his usual company and his own proclivity for debasement. “Am I under arrest? Last time I checked, my smoke breaks didn’t fall under your jurisdiction.”

He scoffs, but releases his hold. “You know, you have such a fuckin’ mouth on you.”

Despite the harshness of his words, a gentle hand secures you on your feet. The contrast is nothing if not jarring.

Straightening, crossing your arms, you put on your most brazen expression, doing your best to not appear flustered. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t flinch at the arrogance in your tone. “You know it’s crazy out there, right?”

“You think I came in here to admire the interior design?”

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with strain. You expect-–no, you almost want him to come back with a rude retort; instead, his exhaustion pushes him towards sincerity. “Look, shit’s just…” a low sigh, “It’s really gone south and I… needed a second.”

It takes a hot minute for it to dawn on you that Peña’s being civil, actually honest with you. A better person might’ve conceded, begrudgingly taken the white flag, maybe even gone in for a handshake to commemorate the temporary truce—

But you were not a better person.

And you just can’t help the sneer from creeping on. “The great Javier Peña needs a second—isn’t that cute. Guess it’s not all guns and shoot-outs and whores and—”

In a flash, the agent has your back flattened against a filing cabinet, two large hands splayed out on either side of your head. He ignores your soft gasp, shadowed eyes dancing with scorn and something even darker as he pins you to the metal.

Trapped underneath him for the second time in one, singular day.

Should’ve called in sick this morning, for fuck’s sake.

“Y’know,” he rumbles, and the depth of his baritone makes your knees wobble, “I’m getting the feeling you’re starting to be jealous of those ‘whores,’ the amount of times I’ve heard you bitch about them.”

A cold handle digs into your back, but you ignore the pinch, refusing to show any signs of weakness.

He wanted to play? Fine. You could play. What you lacked in size, you could always make up for in words. It was a lesson all women carried, a talisman of sorts.

You jut your chin up, adding punch to every consonant, every vowel. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“Yeah,” he snaps, “And you’re a fucking brat.”

There’s a pause as you stare into each other’s eyes, flame to fire, sword to dagger. Excitement builds under your skin—not the kind that you usually felt after receiving an insult, but the kind that had your core warming, your eyelids growing heavy.

It’s unwelcome and off-putting, horrifically out-of-character. You desperately try to push the sensation away.

“Peña—”

He cuts you off. “Brats make a good fuck, y’know. Always take it rough.”

You still, absorbing his crude words. That delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs responds to his invitation against your better judgment, betraying you with every involuntary flutter.

The agent drinks in the way he has you squirming, unable to form an immediate response.

But you manage to reel yourself in, reminding yourself that losing to Peña far outweighed getting off. Self-control was a virtue, after all, and if you were going to win, at least one person in this dingy, old room had to have it.

It sure as hell wasn’t going to be the dark god leering down at you.

“This is a workplace, Peña,” you purr, tilting your chin up to sneer at him. “Not a brothel.”

An inconspicuous twitch at the corner of his mustache as fond nostalgia clouds his eyes. “S’never stopped me before.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, “I know.”

His low chuckle clears some of the tension suspended in the air between you. He eventually steps back, broad hands reaching out to re-adjust your blouse. You allow him the honour—if he was looking for a reaction, you weren’t going to satisfy his craving.

It feels abrupt when he drops his arms, humming an “enjoy your break, sweetheart,” and turning to leave.

Dear Holy Spirit, thank you for sparing me on this day.

Your short-lived relief is cut brief when his heavy footsteps come to a sudden halt. Broad, muscled back to you, Pena’s rugged profile slowly turns into view, its harsh outline illuminated by the glow of the bulb’s dusty, yellow light.

“If location’s the problem—” you can just make out the corner of his mouth lifting in a cocky smirk, “Could always come over, y’know. Got a big bed, nice shower… backseat, too, f’you get too excited on the way…”

You snort, but your breath betrays you, involuntarily hitching halfway up your throat.

Oh god.

“I’d sooner sleep with Escobar, himself.”

His side-eye catches your gaze for a spell, and you really can’t tell whether he wants to fuck or eat you.

“We’ll see.”

And then he’s out the door.

Alone in the dim room, you try to steady your breath, quickly aware of the tremor in your fingers. It’s an agitation that feels dangerous, unpredictable—as if you were a grenade with your safety pin tucked into the folds of Javier Pena's pocket.

His hands on your waist. His breath on your skin. “Always like it rough.” The tingling between your thighs and the air that just won’t fill your lungs—

The ghost of his gaze lingers on the bridge of your nose, and you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re being haunted. No matter what you do, his presence follows you. Not even a cold splash of water does the trick, crouched over the bathroom sink, still trembling hands rubbing vigorous lengths over your face as you desperately try to cleanse yourself of him.

—

“Fucking piece of shit!”

Your palms collide with the steering wheel. Once more, you yank and twist your keys in the ignition, abandoning all hope as the car coughs and sputters like a dying relative. You never intended to visit the hospice ward, this evening—all you wanted was to go home.

Closing the door with a punishing slam, you stalk to the front of the Chevy, wrenching open the hood to inspect the steaming guts of the car.

You might as well have been looking at hieroglyphs. Or, you might’ve been a roman oracle, divining meaning from a pile of sheep intestines.

Fuck.

It’s almost midnight. The fluorescents glowing through the embassy’s windows provide a sad excuse for lighting as you lean over the exposed hood of the car, trying to differentiate your engine from your battery, your catalytic converter from your air filter, this unidentifiable part from that one, over there.

Of course, this had to be the day that your American muscle gave out on you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you ache for the feeling of a warm tub, a glass of wine, a long, restful, deserved sleep.

Someone had to have cursed you.

That becomes all the more plausible when a deep voice booms from behind you, smug and amused and coated in a thick layer of arrogance.

“Car troubles?”

Not. Fucking. Him.

This had to be some form of karmic punishment. It had to be retribution for an act you’d committed in a past life, so evil that it haunted you, all the way into the next one, in the form of an insufferable cop.

His presence almost brings about a cry of rage.

You whirl on him. Leaning against the headlight of his Jeep, casually ashing his cigarette with a quick flick of his thumb, you find a shred of comfort in Peña’s evident exhaustion, weighing down his shoulders and rendering the sharp edges of his features unusually dull.

Ha. The day had punished him, too.

“What’d I say earlier?” He taunts, and of course, despite his weariness, he still looks amused, endlessly capable of deriving a kind of perverted entertainment in your torment. “Something ‘bout bad engines?”

You scowl at him, fingernails digging into your palms. “Unless you know how to fix this,” you gesture wildly towards your defective vehicle, “Do me a favour and fuck right off, Peña.”

He only smiles, taking a final pull off his dart and crushing it between the pavement and the underside of his dress shoe. “Leave it here for the night,” he says. “No use fighting with it right now. ‘Specially not while you’re alone out here.”

A light scoff. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

He tilts his head to the side, fixing you with a look of exasperation that screams, ‘be serious.’ “Let me give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure I know where that would get me.”

His expression grows earnest. “I’m not gonna try anything. Got enough guilt already, just don’t wanna add the secretary’s gruesome death to my list.”

You huff a strained exhalation, addled mind racing as you try to think of anything else that could get you home Peña-free. Cabs were a no-go, alone at this hour. The embassy was empty (except for a few stragglers that you trusted even less than your current company) and on a Friday night, no one you knew would be home to pick up your call, let alone be sober enough to drive.

You could sleep in your car.

You wholeheartedly consider it.

But one look at the agent confirms that option as a dead one: he’d drag you kicking and screaming into his backseat if it really came down to it.

“Swear.”

Peña raises his eyebrows at your command. You hear his unspoken ‘really?’ ringing in your ears.

So, you cross your arms, waiting insistently.

He sighs. “I swear,” and it’s sincere enough.

“Swear what?” You cock a hip out a little to compliment the attitude in your voice. If you were to suffer through his torture, he would suffer through yours, too. How’d that old saying go?

Eye for an eye.

Peña shakes his head and stalks over, passing you by to slam the hood of your Chevrolet shut.

Standing in front of you, exasperation guides him as he addresses you straight on. “You’ll be home in ten minutes, unharmed and unfucked. Now, get in the damn car.”

He heads to the passenger side of the Jeep, rough while unlocking the door, gentle while holding it open. The surrounding darkness doesn’t allow for a full view of his face, and you’re somewhat grateful for undoubtedly being spared the look of vindication that would soon be etched on those features.

This is a bad idea.

Every natural instinct tells you to stay put. Like a broken record, the word danger-danger-danger bounces and ricochets inside your head. When Pena beckons you forward, eyebrows raised in impatience, it feels as though you’re being pulled to him by a thread so delicate it might’ve been spider silk—still, the faint tug makes you all the more worried for your sake.

Nevertheless, you give your shoulders a quick shake and take the first step, walking the length of that invisible string.

—

“Yeah—the building right in front of the school. Grey, looked like a seventy-eight or seventy-nine. Drove off before I could get the plate number, but I’m sure it’s the same one.”

You were not home in ten minutes.

Instead, you’re perched gingerly on the edge of Peña’s couch, cupping a cold glass of water between your hands as he relays the events of the past twenty minutes to his partner.

After spending the ride in simmering silence (aside from the latin music playing softly over the Cherokee’s speakers), Peña had barely turned onto your street before he was veering into an alleyway, the momentum slamming your side against the car’s interior. Frenzied protests flew from your lips as he sped off in the opposite direction of the home you so badly longed for.

“Takin’ you to mine—just shut up for a second—remember that car, this afternoon, when I was with you? The one parked up the street? Yeah, well, it’s outside your building, sweetheart.”

Now, you’re in his living room, massaging your bruised arm and trying to keep your cool. The agent’s voice washes over you, both very far and very near at once. Distracting yourself seems essential, given the circumstances, so instead of dwelling on the idea that someone might actually be trying to kill you, and, what’s worse, you have no idea why, you study the apartment.

To anyone else, it’d just be one man’s living situation, tending toward the nicer side of that domain.

To you, it’s seeing inside the mind of an alien creature.

Everything looks warm: the browns and the yellows of his furniture feel surprisingly cozy. The dark-wood coffee table, the curated magazines, that smokey, deep-forest smell… it’s not what you’d expected. Although, you’re not quite sure what it is that you’d expected.

An unmade bed and few scattered Penthouses with the centerfold pages stuck together, at the very least.

“Yeah, she’s fine here, for now—alright—tell Connie I say ‘hi'.” The phone lands on the receiver with a muted clunk.

Eventually, he comes around to join you. You’re not interested in hearing the details, sick of explanations, tired of all the action (maybe the fast life wasn’t for you, after all), and so you have no complaints when Peña settles next to you on the couch with a grunt, placing two crystal glasses on the coffee table and pouring a sizeable amount of whiskey into each cup.

He slides one over to you with a soft, “I’ll take the couch.”

You set down your water, opting for the drink. The glass is ice-cold, but the scotch burns your throat on its way down to warming your stomach.

Peña smirks at your gagging. He, of course, downs it like a champ, setting the glass back down on the table with a thunk.

“I don’t usually drink this kind of stuff,” you admit.

He leans his back against the arm of the couch. The top two buttons of his dress shirt hang open—tan skin glistening like ore.

You quickly find something else to look at.

“It’s strong,” he groans, folding his hands behind his head. And, Jesus, the sight of his bicep stretching out in full view of your periphery. Does he even own shirts that fit him? “Only take it out for special occasions.”

Eyes on the drink, girl. “Oh, yeah? What occasion is this, then?”

“The usual one.” It’s impossible not to look at him when his voice plummets into those depths of his register; this, he knows, and he flashes you a wolfish grin. You prepare for the worst—some horribly offensive comment or worse, a sexual invitation.

How many of his conquests had drunk this very same liquor?

But, instead, you’re given: “failed assassination attempts.”

You snort, gaze shifting over to the bottle.

Nearly empty.

That would explain his lack of alarm at the evening’s previous events—the same ones that had you shaking head-to-toe.

“And here I was, thinking you were just trying to get me drunk,” you respond, but your playfulness is overshadowed by the quiver in your voice.

Against your better judgment, you use the drink as a soothing agent. It calms the storms that rage whenever you recall the echo of that gunshot or else meet Peña’s eyes.

“Things can serve two purposes, sweetheart.” A dangerous kind of flirtatiousness underpins his reply. “You should know by now that I’m not exactly a gentleman.”

Your stomach does a flip. Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watch as it spins and turns, climbing up one side before sloping down, washing up the other—you’re frozen, concentrating your energy on anything but that mounting tug, pulling you toward the man at your side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” and despite yourself, the words come out so soft, so tentatively curious.

Peña leans forward. When his index finger meets your chin, tilting it up so that you have no choice but to tumble into those onyx-black eyes, heat explodes at the point of contact, blooming furiously across your cheeks.

“I mean,” he drawls, placing his free hand right above your knee, stroking the delicate skin of your thigh, “I’m not above asking for payment, y’know, for giving you a place to stay.”

He’s smiling at you—toying with you again. You want to resist him.

God, you really do.

“Get over yourself, Peña,” you aim for a casual jab, but your voice betrays you, breathy and involuntarily gliding up an octave. “You’re not winning this one.”

“I’m not looking to win, sweetheart.”

He grows serious, pulling your near-empty cup from between your hands and setting it down. He moves oh-so-slow, never once dropping your gaze as his calloused hand inches up your thigh. “I want to help you, querida,” his breath grazes your cheekbone, thick fingers sliding underneath your skirt—

It had to be the Spanish. That had to be the reason behind your complete loss of willpower, your total absorption in everything that was Javier.

It was either that, or your exhaustion had finally driven you completely insane.

“Let me take your mind off it, yeah? I know what works, baby, trust me,” and, God, you want to, especially when that damn hand gives your upper thigh a soft squeeze. “You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you breathe–-but you lack the conviction to convince yourself, let alone him. All you can do is watch his eyes darken as his fingertips reach the delicate fabric of your underwear.

“Prove it to me, hermosa.”

His fingers slip down the front of your underwear. He drinks in the sight of your brows furrowing, your fingernails anchoring onto anything in reach as his index finds the tender bundle of nerves tucked between your thighs.

And you’re soaked.

A winning smile.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he looses a low laugh. “Act like you hate me all you want, sweetheart—this pussy’s loved me from the start.”

You whimper softly as he rubs slow circles against your clit.

Jesus.

He’s like a professional—no other man’s fingers, cock, or selection of toys had ever made you feel like this. And he works you with just the pad of his thumb.

“Peña—” you attempt a final protest, a last shot at redemption before your inevitable fall into the abyss of lust calling out for you.

“Javi, baby,” he corrects.

And you don’t stand a chance.

He pulls you onto his lap; it takes everything not to melt at the feel of his hard chest pressed to your back. The man can’t move fast enough for you—bunching your skirt up around your waist, reaching his hand back under the lining of your underwear.

There’s a low groan when he runs a couple fingers between your damp folds. The feeling and the sound of him has your head collapsing against the curve of his shoulder.

“Don’t think anyone’s ever gotten this wet for me, before,” he practically growls his approval into your ear.

“M’not your usual type,” you manage between moans. “Still got feeling down there.”

His free hand snaps up to grasp your jaw, tilting your chin up to meet that twinkling look of warning.

“S’true,” his low baritone muses—then he watches your face contort with ecstasy as he sinks not one, but two fingers inside your cunt. “They don’t usually talk this fuckin’ much.”

He holds your chin steady, observing your gasps of abandon, studying every visible indication of your pleasure as he pumps his fingers in and out and in and out of you, curling them to push against aaall the right places.

Down to the knuckles.

“What do you do to them?” and he takes great pleasure in hearing the strain in your voice. You take great pleasure in the feel of his cock growing hard, twitching with impatience under your ass.

He ducks his head down to nip at the softest part of your neck. “Want me to show you?”

It’s hard to answer between moans—but, yes.

You do.

If there was ever a stupidity you could rationalize, it was this one. How many times had he promised you ecstasy? How many women had you hung up on, desperation sapping at their static-laden voices as they pleaded—no, downright begged—for just another taste of him? At this point, it would be self-denial, self-hatred not to see what all the fuss was about.

And, what’s more, was it so wrong that, after a day like today, you simply wanted to be at the mercy of an almost-stranger, for just one night? To give over control (not to mention, total creative license), not having to worry about what to do, how to fix this, where to send this—that sounded more than good, it sounded like exactly what you needed.

“Y-yes,” you finally concede, sealing your fate in a stuttered exhalation.

His chest rumbles behind you, a low laugh.

Then, he squeezes another finger inside your cunt.

You nearly cry out at the sting, the pleasure, the stretch.

“You know what I wanna hear, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging the tip of his hooked nose, his full lips up the side of your neck.

You need him. It’s all you can do not to shout it out, to claim the space of his home with the echoes of that sheer, incontestable fact.

You’ll give him whatever he wants. Submit to the enemy, beg for the tantalizing touch of your nemesis… who cares, anymore? Who cares when the enemy’s digits can do that, when his words have you feeling like this?

“Please, Javi.”

He smiles against your skin. “Here or in the bedroom?” His hands move, cooperating to undo the buttons of your blouse. A void swells inside your core, mourning the loss of his index, middle, and ring fingers.

“Be serious,” without the pleasure of them both on and inside your cunt, you manage to reclaim some of your old fight. “I’m not letting you fuck me on a couch.”

He pulls your shirt off your shoulders, and then he’s sneaking a hand under your knees, cradling you in his arms. “Watch that fuckin' tone when you speak to me, hermosa.” His face looms over yours, hungry eyes raking over your exposed form. “Should be thanking me for even givin’ you a choice.”

You give him a smug, mocking “thank you,” hooking your arms around his neck, and Javier scoffs, carrying you—effortlessly—to the bedroom. Despite the cleanliness marking the rest of his place, his bed is unmade, as expected. You barely have thirty seconds to take in the dark pillows, the vintage-looking lamps, the willowy curtains before you’re underneath him, laid atop his tangled, pale sheets. “Fuck, I’m glad you chose the bed, sweetheart,” strong arms grasp you tightly, pushing you up the mattress; his knees land on either side of your thighs as your head falls to the pillows.

“Makes it so much easier to do all the things I wanna do to you.”

He hovers over you, cupping your face in a look of such reverent depth, it borders on concern. Those round doe-eyes, those thick eyebrows—they excite even the most remote places of your body.

“Do you kiss the others?” You tease, softly.

He studies you, focussing especially on your lips as his fingers travel the length of your arm, your jaw, the side of your thigh. “Yeah, usually—but I’m tryna decide if that’s a good idea with you.”

Your bra straps are pulled down your arms in forceful tugs. A line of wetness trails down your bicep where his still-damp fingers graze your skin.

You pout. “Worried I’ll be disappointed?”

His hands sneak under your back, undoing the clasp of your bra in a skilled movement that only increases your anticipation for what’s to come. “I’m worried you’ll get too excited, cariño,” he tosses your bra to the side, “Whinin’ like that from just a few fingers… sounded like a damn virgin.”

His taunt barely registers. You’re distracted, longing for his kisses as if you already knew what they tasted like. Meeting his eyes, you fill your own with unabashed supplication, watching as he takes in the view of your body.

And he groans at the sight of your bare breasts.

“God, fuck it.”

And then his lips claim yours in a starving sort of kiss, the kind that takes everything from your lungs, leaving you aching and empty. His mustache grazes the skin of your upper lip, his tongue tastes of necessity.

Moaning against him as his fingertips trace your breasts, gasping into his mouth when he manhandles and squeezes them roughly. He peppers kisses down your jaw, freeing your lips as his own travel down, down, down to suck and nip at a peaked nipple.

Back arching in ecstasy, a pleading “Javi” tumbles from your parted lips.

He grunts in approval. “Yeah, that’s my girl.” His head ducks over to tease your other side. “S’the only fuckin’ word you need to know from now on.” Your cunt throbs at the feel of his teeth against your sensitive skin, his tongue mapping out every part of your body that calls out for the salvation of his touch.

Then, he’s wrenching your skirt down your legs—your underwear clings to it, sliding down your hips, landing mid-way up your thighs.

He lifts himself off of you, leaving you breathless, exposed, and trembling, to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging the tan cotton off his shoulders and wrenching it off his arms. You marvel up at him, memorizing the way his bare chest swells with every ragged breath. Your heavy-lidded eyes eventually trail down to the impressive bulge below his silver buckle.

“Just how you always pictured?”

Cocky as ever—you’re reluctant to admit that it only adds to his allure.

“Oh, Peña,” you purr, “I hope your dick is as big as your ego.”

An amused smile, and then he’s undoing his belt. You unabashedly stare at his working forearms, how capable they look, now, and how they might look holding a gun—or else, wrapped around your neck.

“Why don’t you take it out and see for yourself?”

You bite your lip, sitting up slowly until your chin runs parallel to his navel. Unsteady hands meet the button, then the fly of his pants. Excitement floods your senses; you burn with crackling electricity.

Dipping into his briefs, you spring his length free: hard, thick, the dark tip glistening with precum. Javi runs his fingers through your hair, and you look up to meet his gaze—you’re a picture of innocence, stroking his cock between two devoted hands.

“Almost,” you coo.

Leaning forward, you wrap your lips around the tip of his length, savouring the taste of his salt on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back, tangling your hair in his fist, “Any other time, baby…” He pulls you off of him, holding your cheeks between his hands. “Right now, I just really wanna make you come.”

You smile, pulling down his denim, honoured by the pure need in his voice. His cock twitches in response to the graze of your fingertips on the inside of his thighs.

“Who’s begging, now?” The sultriness of your taunt takes even you by surprise.

He strokes himself once, twice, three times, features hardening at the sight of your near-naked form below him.

“On your knees, sweetheart, before I show you what that fuckin’ mouth was really made for.”

Always the gentleman, he helps you, flipping you around until your palms press indents into the mattress. Your underwear is wrestled over your knees and down your calves, and then there’s a pair of large hands dragging your hips back. He pulls you right up against him—against two firm, broad thighs.

And that’s when the teasing starts.

“How bad do you want it, hermosa?” He asks, dragging his cock between your dripping folds, grazing your swollen clit with the tip of his length and his fingertips, too. “Bad enough to beg for me?”

“Please,” you whine, “Can’t w-wait any longer.”

He torments you, poking shallowly at your entrance. “Gonna have to give me more than that,” he tuts. "Show me that you've learned some fuckin' manners, baby."

You’re tired of being patient, sick of the throbbing ache weighing heavy inside your clit, your cunt, your core. If his goal was to make you crazy, he’d already achieved it—you feel your mind reeling, losing control of both itself and your body as Javier tempts you toward submission.

He lays a kiss to your neck, adding fuel to an already roaring, uncontrollable fire.

“Please, Javi, fuck me.”

“Again. Louder.”

“Please—please, Javi—please—”

Spreading you apart in his hands, he sinks deep inside you with a quiet groan, watching intently to assure that he’d given every last inch of himself to your grateful cunt.

“Gooood girl,” Javi praises, “Always knew I could fix that fuckin’ attitude.”

He thrusts inside you once again, setting an intense rhythm with every impossibly deep stroke—punishing and rewarding, giving and taking. Every cry drawn from between your parted, bruised lips only encourages the brutality of his throws.

“Shit, you’re needy,” he groans, anchoring his hands onto your waist, fingertips reaching all the way to the front of your abdomen. “Pussy’s pullin’ me in so deep, baby, needed this bad, huh?”

His hips snap against yours, soft skin rippling beneath his hands with every harsh movement. You give him all the cries and moans and pleas he asks for, especially when his tip grazes against that spot.

It feels good, losing control over each and every part of yourself for Javi to claim them for himself.

And you want more. You want him to fuck the thoughts, the fear, the lingering irritation out—to remake you, to bring it all crashing down. Begging him to cleanse you, you attempt speech. “J-Javi—mmm—”

“Yeah, s’it, talk to me, hermosa, you got it,” but he doesn’t make it easy, pushing his cock up so, so deep inside you.

“H-Harder, Javi,” you half-sob, “Want it so hard—s-so bad, please—”

A low laugh followed by a rough squeeze to your ass.

“Y’know, I wish I could make a fuckin’ movie of this, sweetheart,” he goads, leaning over until his breath warms your neck, lips dragging across your cheekbone. “I’m thinkin’: secretary brat—” his arms envelop your body: one hand slides down, skilled index rubbing torturous circles against that swollen bud (it takes everything in you not to cry out for God); the other moves to grasp your throat and jaw and—“begs cop to fuck her like a slut. Could show it to you when you’re actin’ up,” he grunts, shoving more of himself between your swollen walls.

“Could show it to the others, too—teach ‘em how you like to be put back in your fuckin’ place.”

Pressed flat against his chest, he lifts you upright, thrusting up into you with a newfound violence, laughing to himself when a cry tears from your coarse throat. You’re wrapped up so tight in his arms, and it’s all he can do not to crush you completely between them. Javi doesn’t stop working your clit or manhandling your breasts either, nor does he hold back from leaving traces of himself for tomorrow, sucking and nipping up and down the side of your neck.

“I can’t—ohmygod—s’too much, m’gonna—”

Your desperation at the hands of his torture brings a grin to his face. “Say ‘thank you,’ hermosa, m’giving you what you fuckin’ asked for.” Waves of pleasure begin to roll out from your core; you’re swaying on the edge of orgasm and all you can do is hold on for a few more seconds of ecstasy—a few more seconds of him.

His punishing hand constricts around your neck, forearm pressed to bruise between your breasts."You're not listening, baby." God, the brutality of his tone, the demand of his touch. "Need to thank me for ruinin' this pussy for you."

It takes everything you have. “Thankyouthankyouthankyoujavi—please—c-come with me, wanna—need you to fill me up when I-I—” and words become impossible.

The fluttering spreads down your thighs and up into your abdomen, cunt clenching uncontrollably around the wide girth of his cock. You soar off the edge, headed straight for your climax.

“Don’t stop,” Javi growls, nose pressed to the delicate skin behind your ear, “You fuckin’ sing for me when you’re comin’ on my cock.”

Your head dips back, settling into the groove of his shoulder—over and over and over again, you give him his name, the taste of it falling from your tongue almost as euphoric as the feel of your peak tearing through your body.

“So good for me, baby,” Javier grunts, breath ragged; his thrusts become less rhythmic, deeper—needier. “S-sofuckingood, querida—fu-uck,” and then his length swells inside you. He fills you up with a harsh squeeze to your breast, pushing his seed aaalll the way to your cervix with a few final, rough, irregular throws.

Damp with sweat, stars dancing before your eyes, you try, in vain, to catch your breath. Coming down from the high is nearly impossible: minutes come and go and still, you’re flying. All the while, Javier remains inside you—unmoving save for the odd twitch of his buried length.

Eventually, he’s laying you face-down on the mattress, leaving a line of soft kisses down your spine and pulling out with an unholy groan.

“J’so you know, sweetheart, I’d’ve paid for that,” and he rolls over to lie back against the bed frame.

You giggle weakly—the movement pushes some of his cum down onto your thigh. “Shut up ‘n get me a towel, asshole,” you slur, cheek pressed to his pillow.

“Just use the sheets,” he answers casually, leaning over your sprawled form to grab his pack of darts from the bedside table. “Give me something to remember that by.”

You cringe, partly in amused disgust, partly from the soreness you feel, flipping onto your back. “You’re so filthy, Peña.”

He shrugs, smiling as he pulls out a smoke. A comfortable silence settles the space.

“Did that help?” Javi soon inquires.

Your breathing’s evened out, and a fresh cigarette hangs casually from his lips. He lifts a hand to light it.

You hold two fingers out. “Help what?” He places a smoke between them, and reaches over, lighter in hand—dark, wide eyes watching the flame lap at the tip of the dart—the scene somehow feels as intimate as fucking him had.

“You know,” he shifts, ashing his cigarette onto a tray on his bedside table, “The stress.”

You sit with his question for a second, pulling a long puff of smoke into your sore lungs.

“Yes.”

He nods. “Does for me, too.”

Understanding flits between you.

It dawns on you that you might have overlooked some shared similarities. The peace feels… nice.

And, what’s more, you realize that his gorgeous, rugged looks don’t irritate you (as much) anymore. Taking him in, now, it’s like seeing the man for the first time, allowing yourself to appreciate his effortless beauty.

Then, of course, he opens his mouth.

“Gonna have to face me next time, though,” propping himself up on an elbow, he uses his free hand to roll one of your breasts in his palm. “Wanna see these pretty tits bounce for me.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Next time?”

A grin. “Give it five minutes, sweetheart. You got years of bad behaviour to make up for.”

And you don’t manage to stifle your giggle.

He doesn’t finish his smoke, prematurely ashing it out before twisting to face you. “Hermosa,” he cups your face between two passionate, steady hands. “I’m gonna get that fucker from today, alright?”

You tumble into his wide-eyed, serious gaze.

The colour of richness, the colour of life.

Then, you nod. “And I’ll get Murphy that form.”

A soft smile teases the corners of his lips.

An agreement. A promise.

He looks down at you with glowing approval and it’s the feeling of sunshine on bare skin. How different it is, looking at that face and feeling safe, seeing a warm smile and two crystal cups on a coffee table instead of blood, death, and scenes of gratuitous violence.

Javi kisses you.

Your eyes shut tight, eyebrows furrowing as his fingertips cradle your cheeks, mouth dragging across yours, hooked nose pressed to the side of your own.

It’s different from before. Not desperate, hard, and hot. Gentle—sweet.

Just his lips and yours, nothing more, nothing less. No expectations, no invitations.

After a perfect moment, you pull away, dazed. “What was that for?”

Javi’s voice is so low, so tender, it’s barely audible.

“Just wanted to.”

You’d feel that kiss for weeks after, absentmindedly lifting your index to your lips in an imitation of the ghostly traces haunting your skin.

But right now, all you had to do was lean in for another.

And another.

Read part 2: Playing Dangerous

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All the lights in Miami begin to gleam Ruby, blue and green, neon too Everything looks better from above my king Like aqua marine, ocean's blue

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All the lights are sparkling for you it seems On the downtown scenes, shady blue Beatboxing and rapping in the summer rain Like a boss, he sang Jazz and Blues

Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Cacciatore La da da da da La da da da da Limousines Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ciao amore La da da da da La da da da da Soft ice cream

The summer's hot And I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me? Summer's hot but I've been cold without you I was so wrong not to tell, in Medellìn, tangerine dreams

Catch me if you can Working on my tan Salvatore Dying by the hand Of a foreign man Happily Calling out my name In the summer rain Ciao amore Salvatore can wait Now it's time to eat Soft ice cream

Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Cacciatore Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Limousines Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ciao amore Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Soft ice cream

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moremaybank · 1 year

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POPULAR WORK ! ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

hi! check out some of my most popular work below! reblogs & comments are always appreciated ♡

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all the posts below (minus one) are mature content. mdni.

JJ MAYBANK ⋆୨୧⋆

GREEDY (18+)

DANGEROUS GAMES (18+)

CAN I (18+)

HUSH (18+)

WET (18+)

INDULGE (18+)

CUTE DRUNK

REFLECTIONS (18+)

RAFE CAMERON ⋆୨୧⋆

RETRIBUTION (18+)

ALL DOLLED UP (18+)

EXTRAVAGANT (18+)

OVERSTIMULATION/SQUIRTING BRAINROT (18+)

KLAUS MIKAELSON ⋆୨୧⋆

TO MAKE HER MINE (18+)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY (18+)

LESSONS (18+)

HAVING SEX WITH KLAUS HC (18+)

HAVING SEX WITH YANDERE!KLAUS HC (18+)

KOL MIKAELSON ⋆୨୧⋆

YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE (18+)

YANDERE!KOL X HUMAN!GF!READER HC (18+)

DAMON SALVATORE ⋆୨୧⋆

MIDNIGHT SNACK (18+)

STEVE HARRINGTON ⋆୨୧⋆

FORBIDDEN FRUIT (18+)

SOFT & SWEET SEX BLURB (18+)

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dolcettamagica · 1 month

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: possessive & obsessive sukuna, choking, lowkey stalking translations: piccola - little one/baby notes: listen to "salvatore" by lana del rey wc: 1.7k

In the dimly lit underbelly of the city, where shadows whispered secrets and alleys told tales of violence, there existed a figure feared and revered in equal measure: Sukuna Ryomen, the enigmatic leader of the most dangerous gang. His name struck terror into the hearts of those who dared oppose him, while his charisma drew countless souls into his fold.

Sukuna was a man who commanded respect without uttering a word. His mere presence exuded power, his icy gaze capable of silencing even the boldest of adversaries. With a network spanning the city's underworld, he held dominion over illicit trades, clandestine operations, and the very pulse of criminal activity.

Yet, amidst the chaos and the conquests, there was one enigma that eluded Sukuna’s grasp: a woman whose allure ignited a fire within him. You, a mysterious beauty with a spirit as untamed as the flames dancing in the night. You moved with a grace that defied the chaos around you, a silent tempest in the midst of the storm.

From the moment Sukuna laid eyes on you, he knew you were unlike any other. You were not bound by the rules of his world, nor swayed by the promises of power and wealth. Instead, you remained an enigmatic force, unyielding and unattainable.

Driven by an insatiable desire, Sukuna sought to possess you, to unravel the mysteries that shrouded your existence. He offered you riches beyond measure, a throne by his side where you could rule the underworld together. Yet, each offer was met with a gentle refusal, as you remained steadfast in your independence.

Frustration festered within Sukuna's heart, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He was a man accustomed to getting what he desired, yet you remained beyond his reach, a tantalizing mirage in the desert of his ambitions.

Despite his best efforts to suppress the yearning that gnawed at his soul, Sukuna found himself inexorably drawn to you, like a moth to the flame. He watched from the shadows as you moved through the city, a silent guardian cloaked in mystery.

In the depths of the night, when the city slumbered and dreams took flight, Sukuna found himself haunted by visions of your captivating gaze. You were the one anomaly in his meticulously crafted world, the one puzzle he could not solve.

And so, amidst the chaos and the conquests, Sukuna Ryomen, a formidable leader, found himself ensnared by the one thing he could not possess: the heart of a woman who danced beyond his reach, a forbidden desire that burned brighter than any flame in the darkness.

In the depths of his lavish office, Sukuna sat with unwavering determination, his gaze fixed on the phone before him. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, a molten rage that threatened to erupt at any moment. With a swift motion, he seized the device, his fingers dancing across the screen with a commanding presence.

"Where are you, piccola?" he typed, each word a declaration of his unwavering dominance. "You cannot hide from me forever. I will find you, and when I do, you will answer to me."

There was no room for hesitation in Sukuna's messages, no trace of the desperation that had once plagued him. Instead, his words dripped with authority, each message a demand for her submission.

"Do not test my patience" he continued, his tone brooking no defiance. "You belong to me, and you will come to me willingly. There is no escape from my grasp."

With each message sent, Sukuna's resolve hardened, his determination driving him forward with unrelenting force. He would not be denied what was rightfully his, not by anyone, especially not by a woman who dared to defy him.

"Tell me where you are," he commanded, "I will not ask again."

But still, there was no response, no sign of surrender. Anger flared within Sukuna's chest, a wildfire of fury that threatened to consume him whole.

"If you think you can hide from me, you are sorely mistaken," his words a warning laced with venom. "I will tear this world apart to find you, and when I do, you will regret ever crossing me, piccola."

With a final message sent, Viktor leaned back in his chair, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. He would not rest until you were in his grasp, until you bowed before him in submission. For in Sukuna Ryomen's world, there was no room for defiance, only dominance and control. And he would have it all, no matter the cost.

As Sukuna's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to send yet another commanding message, the door to his office swung open with a forceful creak. In strode one of his most trusted lieutenants, a figure cloaked in shadows and whispers, bearing news that ignited a spark of hope within Sukuna’s hardened heart.

"Boss," the subordinate – Toji – began, his voice low and deferential, "we've received word. She... she's in Miami."

The words hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing promise of victory amidst the tumultuous storm of Sukuna's emotions. Without a moment's hesitation, he rose from his seat, his movements swift and decisive.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "We leave immediately."

There was a sense of urgency in Sukuna’s tone, a hunger that burned brighter with each passing second. Miami beckoned like a siren's call, its neon-lit – ruby, blue and green, neon too – streets promising the chance to reclaim what was rightfully his.

As his subordinates scrambled to fulfill his orders, Sukuna's mind raced with thoughts of the woman who had eluded him for far too long. He could almost taste the sweet victory that lay within his grasp, the moment when you would finally bend to his will.

With a steely resolve and a heart set ablaze with determination, Sukuna embarked on his journey to Miami, a man possessed by a singular purpose: to capture the one who dared to defy him and to assert his dominance once and for all.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting its golden rays upon the pristine sands of the Miami beach. Among the throngs of sun-seekers, Sukuna strode with purpose, his eyes scanning the shoreline with a predatory intensity. And there, amidst the azure waves and the gentle sway of palm trees, he spotted you.

You laid upon the sand, a vision of beauty that stole the breath from Sukuna's lungs. Clad in a bikini that left little to the imagination, you exuded an aura of confidence that only served to fuel his desire. Your bronzed skin glowed beneath the sun's warm embrace, your tousled hair cascading like silk upon the sand.

With measured steps, Sukuna approached, his gaze never wavering from the woman who had haunted his every thought. He stood before you now, a towering figure clad in shadows and sinew, his presence commanding the attention of all who dared to gaze upon him.

"Piccola," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "You cannot hide from me forever."

There was a flicker of defiance in your eyes, a spark that ignited the flames of desire within Sukuna's chest. But he would not be deterred, not by your beauty nor by your resolve. He had come too far, fought too hard, to let you slip through his fingers once again.

"You belong to me," he declared, his words laced with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. "And now, you will come with me."

But you remained unmoved, your gaze steady as you met his with a defiance that stirred something primal within him. You were a challenge, a tantalizing puzzle that begged to be solved, and Sukuna was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“I was working on my tan, boss.”

"Working on your tan," he repeated, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "In Miami, of all places."

There was a subtle tension in the air, a silent battle of wills as you and Sukuna locked gazes. Your defiance sparked a flicker of admiration within him, even as it fueled the flames of his frustration.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone cool and composed. "Is there a problem with that?"

Sukuna's jaw clenched, a silent testament to the storm of emotions swirling beneath his stoic facade. He had come too far, searched too long, to be met with such casual indifference.

"No problem," he finally replied, his voice a low growl. "But I must insist that you accompany me. We have unfinished business, you and I."

Your lips curved into a sardonic smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in your eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, boss. I have many businesses, all of them quite finished."

Sukuna's patience wore thin, his frustration bubbling to the surface like molten lava. He had pursued you across oceans and continents, faced down countless adversaries in his quest to claim you as his own. And yet, she remained as elusive as ever, a tantalizing enigma that refused to be solved.

"Enough games, piccola," he snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "You cannot hide from me forever. Sooner or later, you will bend to my will."

The tension crackled between you like electricity as Sukuna's hand shot out, seizing you by the throat with a force that bordered on violence. His grip was firm, unyielding, a silent declaration of dominance that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you stood locked in a primal embrace, your gazes locked in a fierce battle of wills. But beneath the surface, a different kind of energy simmered—a raw, unbridled desire that pulsed between you like a current of electricity.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as Sukuna's grip tightened, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin like branding marks. And yet, there was no fear in your eyes, only a smoldering heat that mirrored his own.

With a low growl, Sukuna leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with a tantalizing promise. "You cannot resist me, piccola," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You were made for me, and you know it."

A shudder ran through your body as you felt the heat of Sukunas breath against your skin, your pulse racing with a heady mixture of fear and excitement. You knew that you were as drawn to him as he was to you—a dangerous truth that sent a thrill coursing through your veins.

“You will always belong to me.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Simon ''Ghost'' Riley - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prompt List

Sex Pollen - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

After being hit by the experimental drug, Ghost can't get enough of your body.

You make it hard to be a Ghost - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

You write him poetry; Ghost rejects it every single time with a heavy heart until his walls start to crumble down.

Longing - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

The simple ways Ghost shows you how much he cares with his actions while you both yearn for each other's love.

Together - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader:

Ghost finds strength with your love in a near-death experience together.

Cold - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader - PART I

You come back to base a changed and scarred soldier after being held captive for a year, Ghost is desperate to help bring you back to be the woman he loved.

I'll meet you here — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Simon finds peace for the first time after retirement.

Character Study - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley

In-depth character analysis on Simon ''Ghost'' Riley based on the comic, campaigns, and voice lines from multi-player.

Idyllic - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader - Part I

content: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, your honor, they love each other.

Tainted - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Ghost became judge, jury and executioner.

CW: paranoia, gore, anxiety?

Salvatore - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

You join Simon for a late-night smoke, bad dad jokes ensue.

Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

No one knows how much violence it took to be this gentle.

Afraid - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

content: angst with a happy ending, mentions of death and injuries, hurt/comfort.

Monster | Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Based on the violent sexual fantasies Simon ''Ghost'' Riley experiences after being tortured by Roba.

CW: noncon, darkfic, mind break, forced deepthroat, forced penetration, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex, give in.

Perfect Life — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

The first night home with the baby.

Adoration — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: fluff, pregnant!reader, horrible dad jokes.

Living Dead Man - Zombie!Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

What is a husband but a man with a rotting body you can barely recognize?

CW: body horror, gore, tongue kiss with a dead man(?), is she wrong? morally, angst with a happy ending.

Beacon — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Cozy day in the life of a soldier and his pregnant wife.

Birthday Boy — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

content: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

Mine - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I Part II | Part III

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Believer - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

In which Simon believes he's truly undeserving of love, moved only by your stubbornness.

K-9 — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Chapter I

Simon Riley and his pathetic efforts to get close to the new medic will earn him a scar or two

Simon Riley is in love with an uninterested, tired medic.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley fluff

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yovrnewromantic · 2 months

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YOU BELONG TO ME

Pairings: Humanity-less stefan x reader

“Ugh, would you just leave me alone already.”

It’s bold of you to talk to him like that. Stupid too, especially in the state he’s in.

Your boyfriend was someone you would describe as a saint. Kind, cute, caring. But without his humanity, he was the opposite. He was hostile to everyone, getting on your nerves, especially when he shoved Matt to the floor when he tried to give you your homework back. He caused a scene in the hallway, practically threatening to rip out Matt’s throat if he so much as looked at you again.

Ripper Stefan was violent and territorial. You didn’t know what that meant for you.

Stefan’s hand found your shoulder, pulling you to turn and look at him. He lowered his head, making fiery eye contact to get his point across.

“Let’s get one thing straight, you belong to me.”

Stefan’s words send a chill down your spine, your soft, cuddle boyfriend, who used to sing along to You Belong With Me, is nowhere to be found and you’re left with this possessive shell of him.

Right now, he didn’t love you, he just knew that he wanted you and he was damn sure he was gonna have you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you sneer. “I don’t belong to you, Stefan, so do me a favor and fuck off.”

You felt brave turning away from him, as if your words would sink into him, maybe make him feel something and switch a flip inside of him. Your words did flip a switch in him, just not the one you were hoping for.

Stefan’s large hand grasps as your arm. With an easy, singular tug, he pulls you back under him, forcing your back into the lockers behind you. They slam against your back, the sound overpowering your scared gasp.

“No, no. Don’t talk to me like that.” Stefan tsks, caging you between his arms. “You’re not in control here.”

Left defenseless, your eyes shoot around the halls, looking for someone, anyone, but the hall is empty.

Harshly, Stefan grips your chin. “Don’t do that,” he demands, tauntingly. “It’s just me and you, baby.”

The pet name falls off his lip in mockery. It makes you feel pathetic and despite what you tell yourself, you’re afraid. Stefan grins. “I can hear your heart racing.”

“Maybe because I’m fucking terrified,” you snap, voice low, trying to calm yourself. Stefan reaches out for a lock of your hair, twisting it around his finger before he lets it fall back into place.

“Good,” he whispers, an inch from your face. His eyes flicker over your lips for a split second his eyes meet yours and his lips twitch into a smirk as he fits his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales softly, and your foot bounces against the floor anxiously.

Stefan kisses at your neck with fake innocence, moving up to your jaw before focusing on your pulse point. His teeth scrap against your skin gently. Against your will, your eyes gloss over. You whimper. “Please don’t.”

“Do what, sugar?” he asks, “Bite you?” He jumps toward with his last remark, relishing in how you flinch.

You nod, fearfully, looking down at the floor rather than your scary boyfriend.

Stefan’s head cocks to the side ever so lightly, his eyes searching for your own. When they meet, you can see the familiar lustful haze in your boyfriend’s green eyes, but they’re darker than usual. For reasons unbeknownst to you, you refused to look away. Glaring at him through your eyebrows, Stefan cherishes your attention, licking his lips with excitement.

“Mr. Salvatore,” a voice calls from behind Stefan’s mean silhouette. “I think it’s time you get to class.”

You sigh with relief, your head falling back against the locker. “Ric.”

Stefan hardly looks away from you, barely sparing Alaric a glance as he eagerly tries to engage your intense eye contact. “In a minute.”

“No, now.”

“We’ll finish this later,” Stefan whispers in your ear, nipping at it as a threat disguised with playfulness as he pulls away.

If looks could kill, Alaric would be dead the second Stefan turned away from you, bumping his shoulder as he headed to class.

“Thank you,” you gush, hiding your face in your hands, desperate not to cry.

Alaric looks at you with sympathy. “Get to class,” he says. “We’ll deal with him after.”

in my tvd phase 🫀🫀

unedited

#stefan salvatore #yovrnewromantic #stefan salavatore x reader #stefan #stefan x reader #no humanity stefan x reader #no humanity stefan #ripper stefan x reader #ripper stefan #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #TVD #TVD X READER #TVD BLURB #blurb #imagine #angst?? kinda

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soft-mafia · 7 months

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Take Me With You [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, oc insert, reader is around the same age as the straw hats, mentioned age gap, Buggy being kind of a perv, short drabble

a/n: Reader running off with Buggy is starting to live in my mind rent free. Also urrrgggg Buggy is so Salvatore Ultraviolence Born To Die coded

part 2

“Sorry kiddos, I would love to stay and make things right, but it’s time to exit stage left.” Buggy said as soon as he got his body back, and ran off away from all of the conflict.. what was he gonna do now dammit? I mean it wouldn’t be long before his crew found him, it shouldn’t be that long right? He was sure they weren’t all a bunch of idiots—

“Buggy! Wait!!” He heard a voice call out from behind him, he paused and turned around, seeing Y/n there. He smiled sweetly at her, “Oh, hey hot stuff.” He grinned at her, “Listen.. it’s not you, it’s me, I really gotta-”

“-Take me with you.” Y/n said, slowly stepping closer to Buggy, looking at him with sadness in her eyes— oh shit. Maybe Buggy went a bit overboard with the sweet talk with this girl.. she was the only one that was gentle with his head, he wanted to stay on her good side but he never imagined that she would actually FALL for him. Why? Buggy took a few seconds to process what she said, “Huh?” He croaked out.

“Please take me with you!!” She said again.

Buggy’s mouth was slightly agape, he then sighed and stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders before eying her up, “Listen, baby, as much as I appreciate you for taking care of my head.. I think I’m a bit too old for you.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, then looked down at the ground, “I.. I don’t care.” She whispered. Buggy’s jaw clenched, he just couldn’t.. leave her. He had to admit she was cute, and when she had held his head close to her tits it felt like heaven.. he looked up and sighed heavily, “C’mon baby.. don’t-..” he sighed again, “Stop acting like that, stop it.” She was acting so sad.. the thought of how sad and lonely Y/n would be if he left her here was starting to creep into his mind, and it was making him feel like an asshole.

“What about your friends huh?” Buggy tried to reason with her, “And.. trust me you wouldn’t like it on my crew, you’re way too hot for that.” He moved his hands down to her arms.

“I only knew them for like.. a few days, I can’t really call them my friends.” Y/n mumbled, looking up at Buggy through her eyelashes.

Puppy dog eyes?! C’mon, she’s fucking killing me! Buggy sighed, “Well you don’t even know me at all!” He growled.

“Then let me get to know you! Please! Please take me with you..! I know I’d feel safer around you!” Y/n stepped closer to him, Buggy could see his ship in the horizon, thank god.

Why him of all people?! Safe?! He literally tried to kill the people she was with, AND her. He was confused, but he didn’t really have much time to think this through.

Buggy put his hands on Y/n’s waist and looked down at her, should he really do this? He exhaled, “Ok. Fine.” He grabbed her forearm and started heading for the shore, dragging her along with him, “It took those fuckers way too long to find me.” He grumbled under his breath.

Y/n felt her heart fluttering, he’s actually taking me with him!! She couldn’t believe this was happening.. the way he was holding her, the way he looked at her, she was swooning so hard..

She caught up with him, walking by his side.

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #opla #opla buggy #one piece x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #one piece x y/n

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fandoms--fluff · 7 months

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Baby Gilbert

Flufftober, October 15th

Little gilbert sister reader x Stefan Salvatore x Elena Gilbert

Summary: You have a nightmare and go to your big sister's room for comfort

Warnings: none

A/n: I forgot I actually completed this work, but it's a bit older, so keep that in mind😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your the youngest gilbert sibling being 5 years old, as of right now it’s later in the night almost 11pm. Jeremy is at one of his friends houses for the night and Jenna is at Alaric’s apartment so it’s just you, Elena and Stefan since he was also here with Elena in her bedroom helping with history homework because he lived during the 19th century.

You just woke up, starting to cry from the nightmare you were having seconds before. After a couple of minutes and a few whimpers immitted from you, you got up and went into Jeremy’s room since his was the closest to yours. When you got into his room and climbed onto his bed you realized that your brother wasn’t there. Sliding off his bed and landing on your knees you started to go over to Elena’s room seeing that the door was cracked open a bit and her light was on. You crept up to her door and opened it a little bit more slowly walking in but soon saw that the person sitting on the bed wasn't your sister but Stefan your sister's boyfriend.

Stefan noticed you, looking up from the text book laying across his knees. "Hi y/n/n. What's wrong, what are you doing up?" He asked seeing the tear streaks on your face and you fidgeting around.

"Had bad drweam" you answered trembling in your voice a little bit.

"Well do you want to talk about it?" Stefan concerned for you since your only a little kid.

You thought about it and slowly shook your head, not knowing how to explain it exactly. There were tears still running down your face and you went over to the side of the bed where he was sitting. Looking up at him with puppy dog eyes you lifted your arms up making grabby hand motions for him.

"Alright hun, here we go" Stefan smiled and moved the text book off his legs then picked you up and set you down onto his lap facing him.

You leaned into his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him. Your tears are damping his shirt but he doesn't care and hugged your tiny self back.

Stefan thought how if Damon saw him right he wouldn't let this go for the rest of the month, teasing him.

"Where Lena?" You looked up at him.

"She's in the bathroom, getting ready for bed" Stefan answered and started to rub small circles on your back.

You nodded and leaned forward against his chest again. While dozing off you started to trace shapes on the front of his left shoulder. Stefan softly smiled at your cute actions and looked over to where Elena walked out of the bathroom, dressed in her pajamas. Elena observed how your in Stefan’s lap with his arms wrapped around you, and she also noticed the tear streaks on your cheeks.

“Aww this is so cute” Elena almost squealed at the cuteness in front of her.

She picked up her cell phone from the dresser and snapped a couple pictures of you two in one of them Stefan flipping off the camera. Elena sat down next to the two of you by now you were fast asleep and can’t hear Elena telling Stefan off for pulling the middle finger stunt.

“Want me to put her to bed Stef?” Elena asked, kissing the top of your head.

Stefan immediately held onto you tighter and quietly growled when Elena tried to take you. She suppressed her laugh at Stefan’s protectiveness over you. “At least if you ever look after her than I know she’s going to be safe” Elena pointed out and Stefan nodded.

“Oh yeah why does y/n have tear stains on her face?” Elena asked remembering.

“She had a bad dream that scared her to start crying” Stefan answered.

“What could’ve scared her so much that it brought her to crying” Elena wondered since you usually didn’t have any bad dreams.

“I don’t know but let’s not worry too much, if it keeps happening then we can start to worry. But now I think we should just got to sleep in case we wake her.” Stefan nodded down to your sleeping state.

Elena agreed and both of them laid down, Elena turning the lights off and yet you were still fast asleep in Stefan’s embrace. Its taking Elena all her might not to ‘aww’ at the cuteness beside her.

“You know if Damon ever finds out he’s never going to let it go” Elena whispered.

“Well let’s hope he doesn’t and that she doesn’t say anything about this to him” Stefan responded.

“That won’t be a problem for her, Damon has already scared her enough to the point she won’t be in the same room with him alone” Elena said rolling her eyes at the thought.

“If she wasn’t scared of him then we could really piss him off by getting him to babysit” Stefan chuckled a bit but stopped not wanting to wake you.

Elena quietly laughed a bit and nodded.

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gatitties · 4 months

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Kid pirates and Whitebeard pirates with a singer!reader who specializes in soft vocalizations? (the best example I can think of is Lana Del Rey's Salvatore) maybe reader sings for the crew during celebrations or sings to them one on one if someone in the crew needs something to help sooth them !

─Kid Pirates & Whitebeard Pirates x singer!reader

─Summary: the discovery of your voice was a ray of tranquility for these crews

─Warnings: none

nah this is so cute 😔🫶🏻

─ It's quite unusual to have a moment of calm in this crew, with such an explosive and impulsive captain and a crew that would follow him to hell, fights and celebrations were almost daily.

─ Of course, you were part of that stupid brutality, however you do not indulge in the frenzy that most people carry here.

─ You like to sing, whether you were born with a good voice or you tried hard enough to get to the right pitch, it was a hobby that required calmness and silence, two things that were quite unusual in this crew.

─ And probably no one noticed if it weren't for Heat overhearing you once by chance, he's one of those who appreciates calm from time to time just like Wire.

─ So at the next party, a drunk Kid approached you, urging you to please them with some song, because someone had told him you had a pretty voice.

─ You didn't feel like it was the right time, when they were making bets, juggling things on fire and absurd challenges, even Killer told you that it wasn't a good time because no one would listen to you.

─ But Kid's insistence made you go up to the improvised stage, that is, two boxes and a couple of barrels, asking for silence didn't help much so you just started with your thing.

─ Ignoring all the background noise you focused on using your vocal cords correctly, as it was quite important to reach the soft tone you liked.

─ Everyone became quieter the louder you sang, until they were completely silent just to hear your voice.

─ For you it was a simple warm-up, but for them it was something they had never heard before.

─ You received a cheer from drunks that made you laugh at how silly they looked, as well as the stupid things they said to you about being related to mermaids or something.

─ From that moment on, they ask you to have your rehearsals, which were previously solitary, in the stern so that everyone can appreciate your singing, it doesn't bother you knowing that they really enjoy it and it provides a little peace within a crew of bloodthirsty people.

─ Killer will ask you to help him in the kitchen from time to time, he likes it when you hum while you prepare everything, it makes the time go by faster.

─ Kid will also ask for it when a project is not going the way he wants and he needs to de-stress, something sweet and soft always manages to calm him down, at least that and a glass of whiskey.

─ Heat and Wire are like your groupies since they appreciate calm the most, that and you were stuck with them on most of the ship's chores, and you inevitably end up humming to kill the boredom or at their request.

─ It's not that loud of a crew, yes, they have a lot of unnecessary parties sometimes, but overall it's pretty quiet, also because most of the crew have other ships besides the Moby Dick.

─ Marco was the one who discovered your love of singing, he listened to you while you were showering one night, and although he didn't pressure you to make it “public” since you hadn't had a chance to give a concert yet, he was like a proud mother ranting about how pretty it was your voice.

─The next few days you have Ace and Thatch begging to hear something because they were bored and Marco couldn't stop commenting on how well you sang, so it was your first private audition.

─ These two slept like babies after you reached the softer tones of the song, no one had ever blessed their ears like that.

─ Absolutely everyone knows that you have the most beautiful voice on the planet (according to Ace) after that, so the people you are closest to who were unaware of this side of you asked you for a demonstration.

─ Of course Whitebeard already knew this before anyone else, only that he wasn't going to force you to do shows for the crew if you didn't want to share your hobby, you only started to bring out this side of yourself when you gained more trust with everyone and felt comfortable.

─ Then you started singing more often with the crew acting as an audience, you always received applause even if you were just warming up your vocal cords.

─ Marco now takes the medications that are harmful to your throat very strictly, he doesn't want your voice to be ruined by being so pretty.

─ Ace and Thatch, your number one fans, probably the founders of your fan group, have a board in the kitchen with photos of you as if you were one of those famous singers that appear in the newspapers.

─ Sometimes you and Izo perform to entertain the crew, he dances and you sing.

─ You usually leave the ship to go work in some bars, since you like it, it doesn't hurt to make money from your passion if you can.

─ When someone spends a lot of time away traveling on missions, you are one of the first people they visit, all the fatigue seems to go away when they hear your voice.

─ Thatch will also ask you to help him clean up the mess in the kitchen because he knows you'll start humming while you two clean, making the task much more enjoyable.

─ You better start to believe you are a superstar because Ace will spread the word so much that he has a friend who sings like angels that your reward poster will be forgotten compared to your rumors.

─ This great family is proud of you and the achievements that you set for yourself, whether as a pirate or as a singer, whatever path you end up choosing, they will be there for you.

#op #one piece #one piece x reader #request #reader insert #kid pirates #kid pirates x reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #whitebeard pirates #sfw #singer reader #reader is not specified so...#fem reader #male reader #gn reader #x reader #one piece x singer reader

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oncomingnight · 8 months

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Salvatore ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.! "My diehard, My weakness."

-Yandere! Male Model x Reader ｡ﾟ❃ུ۪

Hello everyone, I apologize for my absence but I'm finally able to write and put something out for all of you! I hope you enjoy and never hesitate in reaching out to me, I'm here to listen.

Yassine was signed with the most highly renowned modeling agency that was in the industry. His appearance was completely entrancing, capable of stunning any person that had the privilege of seeing him in person. Everything that had contributed to his 'mysterious' demeanor was absolutely divine and could fill any person with envy. His brown bushy brows, beauty marks scattered over his body & face, dark brown circles as his irises, soft tufts of darkly colored hair, light pink plump lips, arms & hands filled with veins and a height startling to the human eye.

Despite his capability of looking like the most unapproachable man alive, he's incredibly tender-hearted and altruistic. The feeling of his muscular arms being wrapped around your waist in a comforting manner is the best form of reassurance you could ever receive. Yassine quite obviously adores you and he could never go an hour without going on about how devoted he is to you.

Traveling is something he enjoys an incredible amount, especially with you, and only you. He'll show you his favorite areas and'll make sure you're having the best time you could ever have with him. The amount of money he spends on you will act as a concern to you but Yassine doesn't mind, the two of you have different mindsets. Why should he categorize the amount of money he spends on you as a negative? It isn't something malicious when it's in favor of you.

Yassine is incredibly protective of you and he isn't afraid to act on that aspect of him. Someone could be poking fun at you in a non-hurtful manner but he'll still be quick to tell them to cut it out .

"Aye, watch it." "Wanna say that one more time?"

He's been in his fair share of fights and they've all been over you. If he's in an argument with someone else and they bring you up, they're leaving the function with several broken bones. Yassine couldn't care less if he's in a public space, if someone wants to try him and bring up his biggest weakness, he's going to stoop low. He's immensely stubborn and will defend his actions when you question him on how quick he is to fight. "He deserved it and you know it, شہزادی", he says as you clean up the bloody cut above his tatted knuckles.

Whenever he's being interviewed for magazines or podcasts, he'll always mention you or find a way to do so. The delicate manner in which he speaks about you is so endearing, making anyone interviewing him stare in admiration.

When Yassine has to travel for a casting, you're always going with him. He finds great pride in being able to properly take care of you and show you the depths of his love. He will be the first one there when you're in need of any type of assistance, all you need his him and all he needs is you.

He is all about intimacy and showing you just how vulnerable he's willing to be when it comes to you. When the two of you are having an intimate conversation, he's all about eye contact. "Hey, look at me, baby. I'll do anything for you to realize just how much you mean to me. I worship you, you know that?"

His hands are always on you no matter the time of day. It doesn't matter if you're wearing an outfit that covers your entire body, leaving everything to the imagination, his hands are going to be squeezing and rubbing you because he's not the best at containing himself. His ringed fingers being placed onto your thigh, rubbing them back and forth as he murmurs something along the lines of, "So goddamn beautiful" ,and, "you know how much I love this dress."

Wherever the two of you go, you're always seated on his lap. In his defense, it's comfortable and do you really think they clean these publicly used chairs?

Yassine loves taking you out on little trips that include doing things you deeply enjoy. He'll take you on a road trip that's filled with country roads and farm fields, laughing when you point to an area and call out, "look, there's horses!" He enjoys taking you shopping and purchasing items that you've spoken about wanting. Do you want clothing made with fine fabric? You got it. Do you want perfectly curated cosmetics? You got it. Do you simply want cute little trinkets that'll go on your bookshelf? You got it.

Lingerie? Oh, he's buying that anyway.

There's nothing he loves more than going on a little getaway trip and seeing the beauties of a certain country with you. He cherishes being able to cuddle up all close to you in your shared Airbnb , nuzzling his head into your neck, kissing your jugular and whining when you try to get up for any reason.

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bluemargotrobbie · 4 months

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Arielle y Klaus 🍼

Tras la repentina carta de Katherine, avisando que unas brujas en Nueva Orleans estaban conspiración contra Klaus.

Él y Arielle viajan a la cuidad pero al llegar allí acaban descubriendo algo sorprendente, Arielle está embarazada, algo imposible teniendo en cuenta que ella es un vampiro.

📖: 𝑭𝑼𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑮𝑰𝑨

📚: “Future Nostalgia Saga”

🖋: scarletqueenx (wattpad)

🎟️: scarletqueenx ( tik tok)

🌍: TVDU

👤: Arielle Salvatore

#the vampire diaries #the originals fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #arielle salvatore #elijah mikealson x reader #hayley marshall #hope mikaelson #baby is coming #new orleans #fanfic #wattpad

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tojisun · 10 months

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i adore you

jake sully x fem na’vi reader

!! smut - minors dni; daddy kink (central plot point); breeding kink; size kink; hinted age gap; possessive jake; dumbification but only if you squint

: jake’s the one with daddy kink in this teehee (happy father’s day king); an indulgent fic mostly tbh - it’s the daddy issues, i swear; jake’s older than reader but his attitude is kinda leaning more to how he is in a1 than in atwow; hope you guys would love it <33; title is from salvatore - lana // 2.8k words

you hold back from sighing again, curbing your rising annoyance as you try to be patient, waiting for jake to just tell you what’s bothering him. he’s been lost in his thoughts for a long time now, his fingers pausing from fixing the harness of his ikran, the new leather that you pieced up for him lay untouched on his lap. you almost hiss at him, wanting to know what you can do to help but how could you offer him any support if he’s being tight-lipped?

you return to stitching up your tewng, your ears pressed on your hair as a sign of your agitation, as you cover the tears with the other parts of the same cut of leather that jake would eventually incorporate into his saddle. you can faintly hear your tail thrashing behind you, no doubt announcing your ire, but jake is still so distracted by whatever is coiling in his mind and he does not seem to notice your tense silence.

you are reaching the last of your knot, your tongue ready to hiss a question to him, when jake completely drops his saddle and turns his big body to face you.

“sweetheart?” he starts, sounding so unsure with his small voice. your tail stops flicking, the irritation instantly being replaced by worry at seeing jake’s eyes furrowed with so much nervousness.

mirroring him, you let go of your tewng to face him. seeing your empty hands, jake doesn’t waste any time to pick you up from where you sat to drop you on his lap. he holds onto your waist, his palm warm on your sides and his thumb ghosting patterns on the edges of your belly. you giggle at the touch, breaking the tension, and you feel jake’s shoulders relax now that you are in his arms.

he has always been so tactile, so clingy with his affection. at first you thought it was because of his fear of being stranded in an alien world, but after many nights spent with his bigger body curled around your back, you learned that it is just the way he is.

it is unfathomable: the toruk makto being so clingy, unable to sleep unless you are in his embrace with your head pillowed by his arms. who would’ve known that the mighty warrior could be so adorable?

“ma’jake?” you ask when he remains quiet. “is there something wrong?”

he shakes his head, smiling at you softly. “nothing is, baby.”

he licks his lips, tilting his head to the side like he is mulling over what to say next. you remain quiet as you loosely loop your arms around his shoulders, waiting, watching, knowing that when jake is like this he wouldn’t hide pretend that nothing is plaguing his mind.

“i was jus’ wonderin’ about somethin’.” his voice is gruff and low, almost like a breath to be shared in the small space between you two. “it’s been- i’ve always wanted- but it’s embarassin’ and-”

you cut him off by cupping his cheeks, urging him to look at your eyes again. “ma’jake, you have nothing to be shy about with me.”

you watch the way his eyes dilate, the ambers almost disappearing into thin rings, at every word that falls off your lips. before you could even marvel at the change, you feel the way he nods, the movement soft and fluid, and your lips tug up in a smile. jake smiles back at you before he pitches forward and plants a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“when we mate, there’s something i want you to call me by,” he murmurs onto your lips when he pulled back just far enough to break the kiss, while keeping the grazing touches between your bodies.

“what’s it?” you ask just as breathily, feeling the change of mood as jake’s hands begin to slide down from your waist to find purchase on the swell of your hips.

“well, i’d love it if you call me ‘daddy’, baby girl,” jake replies, his voice tilting into a half-suppressed groan at the middle of his sentence, sending goosebumps to rise across the expanse of your dewy skin.

you gasp, rearing your head back to look at jake’s eyes. his forehead is creased again in worry, his lips pinched, but then you see his eyes. jake has always been so expressive with his eyes, always so honest with whatever he feels. and as you gaze into them, you see the way his suppressed desire is coiled around his worry. because while he is worried that you would reject his plea, you can see that something about being called daddy scratches the primal itch in him.

“ma’sempu?” you ask, hesitant, wondering if that is what he meant.

jake’s jaw falls, his cheeks burning bright. “oh god no! well, i guess yeah? but no, sweetheart, not that.”

choked laughter causes his shoulders to shake and you pout, not really following what is going on anymore. jake sees your pout and coos, one of his hands leaving your hip to pinch your cheeks.

“the term is from earth. only a sky people thing, i’m sure – well, i’m really not too interested in finding out if there is daddy kink amongst the na’vi.”

your nose scrunches at hearing another unusual word, but you do not ask him what it means, choosing to remain quiet so jake can keep talking.

“‘daddy’ does not always refer to your birth father. it sometimes refers to a man who’s older than you, but not really? either way, it’s meant to be an acknowledgement of their capabilities as a protector and a provider.” he rolls his shoulders, then, “a good lover.”

you blink at him, your cheeks tingling, wondering if he even knew what he’s saying. what he’s presenting.

“sweetheart?” jake calls, his fingers tapping your sides, feeling anxious when you continued to remain silent, keeping your thoughts to yourself.

“oh, ma’jake,” you finally whisper, your eyes trailing across his face, memorizing every mark on his face, cataloguing every freckle, every line.

you thank eywa for truly blessing you with toruk makto – the protector. the provider. your good lover.

you smile to yourself, quiet giggles creeping from your throat as you snuggle up to him. you hear him hum as his arms wrap around you, feeling him rest his chin on top of your head.

you sigh at his touch, purring at the warmth surrounding you, and knowing that you can no longer prolong your silence, you whisper, with reverence tinging your voice, “you are my daddy.”

jake stiffens from underneath you, his back tensing at your tantalizing whisper. you peek over his shoulder upon hearing a muted thumping, and warmth explodes in your chest when you see his tail happily swaying behind him.

“i am?” he croaks, his voice wavering with the intensity of his emotions.

you click your tongue gently, embarrassment and pride battling together within you.

he pulls back to gaze at your eyes. “baby, i am?” jake repeats.

you roll your eyes at him, thumping your fist on his chest softly. “yes, ma’jake. you are.”

you barely finished uttering your reply when jake swoops in and kisses you deeply, his head angled to the side to perfectly slot his lips against yours. you hum into the kiss, your chest fluttering as jake’s hands trail across the expanse of your back, his fingers warm in their kneading. you shiver at the intensity of his kisses, of his embrace.

———

you stifle a choked moan on the back of your palms, losing your vision for a quick moment, when you finally feel jake’s tswin connecting with yours.

“fuck!” you hear jake curse on top of you, his hands falling on either side of your face to steady himself when the rush of your pleasure tangles with his.

you peel your eyes open, wanting to see jake, and your heart stutters when his eyes are already on you.

“daddy,” you whisper readily, the name falling from your lips naturally.

jake shivers, his heavy cock pulsing from where it’s been rubbing along your belly, the head of it weeping, smearing his seed across a small expanse of your skin.

“yawne,” jake replies, his face contorted as pleasure raises along the tsaheylu between you two once again. “baby, y’r so beautiful. so precious.”

you whimper when he finally pulls himself up to kneel between your legs. “no!” you cry, not wanting to miss the connection, but jake just shushes you, moving slowly as to reassure you that he isn’t leaving. that he’s got something more for you.

and he’s right. you watch as one of his hands wrap around his cock, his thumb rubbing along his leaking slit, and your skin tingles when he hisses in pleasure. you watch the way he loses himself in his touch, his hands moving along his length to scratch the itch.

“no!” you whine again, slapping at his clenched fist. jake blinks his eyes open and turns to you, a croon already vibrating from the base of his throat.

“sorry yawne,” he murmurs as he bends down and runs his lips along your neck, his nose tickling your heightened glands. “daddy’s gon’ fuck you now, okay?”

you nod, quiet in your anticipation even when your body is trembling hard, your wet core pulsing with need.

jake guides the head of his cock to your cunt, rubbing it along your folds. you keen, your toes curling as muted pleasure explodes in the pit of your stomach – it is both so good, yet never truly enough.

“daddy, please!” you whimper, unable to keep up with his continuous teasing.

“where do you want daddy’s cock, baby girl?” jake murmurs, his na’vi dissipating as he slips into english again.

you want to sob at how unfair he’s being, using your weakness for his demon language to play with you like this. your ears flatten on your head, a hiss building at the base of your throat, but it vanished when jake’s cock dips further into your folds, teasing your opening.

“c’mon, kid, it’s not a hard question,” jake continues, his eyes locked onto your face, watching the way your eyes dilate in frustration and in desire.

you gasp when jake pulls his cock away from your weeping cunt to tap the head of it directly onto your nub. a frustrated cry is ripped out of you when jake does it again, and you want to punch your mate for his playful cruelty.

“in me, daddy!” you finally managed to utter, taking your eyes away from his heavy cock to meet his gaze, begging him to stop with the teasing and to claim you already.

jake proudly smiles at you, showing off his fangs to the point that his eyes crinkle. “good girl,” he murmurs then he is pushing his cock in.

“ma’jake!” you squeal, your back arching off the mat at the explosion of pleasure that came with being filled up.

you didn’t realize that you were scratching his back, your blunt nails making welts along his skin, until jake’s murmurs from somewhere above you broke through the overwhelming pleasure: “easy, baby. watch y’r nails.”

you stare up at him dumbly, not understanding anything past the pleasure, your dazed eyes rolling back into your skull as jake keeps pounding into you.

you hear jake laughing and you weakly punch at his shoulder, your lips parting for a grumbled complaint, when jake’s thumb finds your tiny nub and rubs it gently, purposefully.

“daddy, too mu-!” your voice breaks for a drawled moan when jake rubs at your nub again, matching the pace of his thumb with his hips, the dual pleasure leaving you breathless.

your cunt squeezes his cock, trying to draw him even deeper in you, hoping he would keep you stuffed and full and swollen with his seed. in your heightened ecstasy, you forgot that you’ve made tsaheylu with jake; that jake can feel your desire.

“oh?” jake asks as he stops moving, leaving his cock throbbing inside your walls. “is that what you’d want, baby? to be bred by me?”

you gasp, the frustration of having been edged bleeding out at being caught. you look at him, shy all of a sudden, but jake is smiling, looking at you so sweetly. so eagerly.

“is that what you want, sweetheart?” he asks again, his voice rough and deep, rumbling in a way that shows that he is still holding back. he lifts one of his hands from your hip to press down on your belly, careful but also insistent. “want to feel me here?”

you are aching with so much desire but the reminder of how big jake truly is, how far into you he could really reach, has you panting, your cunt clenching at his cock again. it makes jake chuckle, his laugh coming out as wheezing, as his eyes furrow to savour the feeling of your plush walls warming him.

“fuck, baby, you do, don’t you?” he sounds in awe, like he couldn’t believe just how much you want him.

“i do, ma’jake,” you hum, tracing your fingers along his arm, his wrist, before placing your smaller hand on top of his from where it still rests on your belly. “wanna feel you here.”

“shit,” is all he says before he is taking your hand away from your stomach to tangle his fingers with yours and pinning them beside your head.

then, he is pulling out, the slide of it gentle, and just when you thought that he’d tease you again, jake slams his cock back in you. fast, hard, deep.

you scream, your eyes going blind for a moment at the sudden engulfing pleasure racing along your nerves.

jake is going fast, no more teasing words or drawn out foreplay, as he descends into his primal instincts, evoked by the need to pleasure his mate. to fill you up just like you wished.

good mate, you think, too bleary to voice out your praises for your beloved. daddy, my good lover.

jake chokes, his hips stuttering a little bit, and you feel his emotions through the tsaheylu: desire, need, ecstasy. but also: love, love, love.

“yawne,” he murmurs, his voice a wreck. “i love you, baby.”

you sob, nodding at him, your toes curling when you feel your pleasure building. rising.

“i love you, daddy!” you reply, writhing when jake hits so deep in you again.

stuttered ah-ah-ahs leave your lips constantly, not knowing what else to say. what else to feel.

jake is everywhere: his scent is in your head, his bigger body folding over you, his warmth surrounding you whole. his cock is heavy and thick and long inside you, stretching your walls to reach your sensitive parts like he is claiming you all over again.

“daddy, ‘m close!” you whimper as you grip his hand.

“yeah, baby, me too,” jake whispers, draping his body over you to rest his forehead on yours. “cum with me, okay, baby girl?”

you nod, hitched whines not letting up enough for you to string words to respond to him. you feel jake smile, his lips so close to yours, and you tip your head up to graze a kiss over them. he groans as he sinks into a deeper kiss, his teeth quickly nipping your bottom lip when you gasped at another deep thrust.

he lets go of your hand to rub your nub again, coaxing your orgasm to tip over. you squeal, your back arching off the mat, going dizzy as the pleasure heightens, overwhelming your every sense until you are reduced to being putty in jake’s hold.

“ma’jake, ‘m cumming! ‘m cummi-!” you scream, your cunt clamping down on jake’s cock, your whole body trembling at the intensity of your orgasm.

“yawne!” you hear jake growl, his head burrowing on the juncture of your neck, before he is burying himself all the way in you.

you hiccup, hissing at the warm gush of your mate’s seed, feeling delirious at the feeling of being stuffed; he is filling you up, going through with his promise.

jake kisses your neck, pressing incomprehensible murmurs to your skin, and his chest vibrates with every deep breath. you embrace him, your shorter arms resting on his sweaty back, as you feel yourself sinking into exhaustion. the thrum of pleasure and satiation chases the ache of your sore muscles, and you giggle softly when jake’s kisses turn into teasing nips, his fangs tickling your sensitive skin.

“my perfect girl,” jake mutters almost to himself, pride vibrant in his tone. “mine.”

“yours,” you echo, huffing when jake nips you again.

“s’right, baby. all mine.”

#suns.f #dilf jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #jake sully smut #jake sully x na'vi reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully avatar #atwow x reader #atwow smut #avatar the way of water #suns #i was projecting rahhhggg dont mind me 😭#jake being the one with daddy kink is so sexy need more of that

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