#ash garver

[andy-15-07]

Bless Me, Madre, For I Have Sinned

PAIRING: Danny Ramirez x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 868 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

You didn’t remember how you got to the couch. One minute, you were kissing in the kitchen, and the next,Danny’s strong hands were pushing you down, his body already hovering over yours, his mouth everywhere.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured between kisses, voice husky.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you breathed, tugging his shirt over his head.

His abs flexed as he straddled you, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn. Okay, bossy.”

“You love it,” you whispered, grabbing the waistband of his sweats.

He hissed between his teeth as your hand slid under. “Fuck, babe…”

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer. The pace between you two was desperate, needy, fast. You were already half-naked, thighs parted, back arching as he kissed down your chest, sucking a bruise right under your collarbone.

“Danny…”

“Say it again,” he muttered, tongue flicking over your nipple.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair. “Danny…Jesus”

His grin was smug. “He’s not the one making you moan like that.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of me in about… ten seconds,” he growled.

You giggled breathlessly. “Promise?”

He hooked your legs around his hips and grinded down against you, slow and deliberate. You let out a soft, needy sound, and his eyes rolled back for a second.

“Fuck, you’re unreal,” he whispered.

Just as he reached down, lining himself up—

BRRRRRING. BRRRRRING.

You both froze.

Danny's head dropped against your chest. “No way.”

BRRRRRING.

“Ignore it,” you groaned, pulling him back down. “Please.”

He reached for the phone just to hit Do Not Disturb,but paused.

You saw the look on his face and sat up. “Who is it?”

He turned the screen so you could see:

Mamá.

Your jaw dropped. “No way. Now?”

“She always knows,” he whispered, voice panicked. “She’s psychic.”

You tried not to laugh. “Are you seriously gonna answer?”

“She’ll think I’m dead!”

“She should hope you’re getting laid!”

He swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear, trying to clear his throat and talk like he wasn’t still rock hard and ready to absolutely wreck you.

“Hola, Mamá…”

You lay back, covering your face in the blanket so she wouldn’t hear you wheezing with laughter.

Danny cleared his throat again. “Sí, estoy bien… sí, comí… no, Mamá, I’m not in trouble.”

His hips were still between your legs, and you were still panting, watching his chest rise and fall. You gave him the look and slowly dragged your nails down his back.

He choked,literally choked,mid-sentence.

“Estoy bien!” he coughed, glaring at you.

You mouthed, Payback’s a bitch.

He turned slightly, as if that would help, and kept nodding. “Sí… no, no estoy solo.”

You froze.

He realized what he said too late.

There was a pause on the other end, and then:

“¿¡CON QUIÉN ESTÁS!?”

Danny flinched like he’d been slapped.

You burst into silent laughter.

“Uh,solo un,una amiga,” he stammered.

Ouch, you mouthed, pretending to clutch your heart. Friend?!

He held the phone away and whispered, “I’m so sorry. She’s gonna start asking questions.”

You licked your lips and leaned up to whisper in his ear, just loud enough.

“She doesn’t have to wonder. I can scream your name and confirm.”

His eyes widened.

You smirked and pulled him down again, hips shifting under him, just enough to make him twitch.

“Okay, Mamá,” he said shakily. “Sí, I’ll call you tomorrow. Te amo.”

He slammed the phone down.

You didn’t even finish your laugh before he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. “You’re evil.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you teased. “Just… helped paint a picture.”

Danny kissed you, deep and hot and a little pissed off.

“‘A friend’?” you teased against his lips. “That what I am?”

“You’re gonna make me say it while my mom’s voice is still echoing in my head?”

“Mmhm.”

He kissed down your throat, teeth scraping your skin. “Fine. You’re my girl. My problem. My addiction.”

You arched against him. “Keep going.”

He slid inside you with a slow, deep thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He started moving, fast, punishing, like he needed to chase away every trace of that damn phone call. Your bodies moved in sync, messy and frantic. The couch creaked. The air was thick with heat and panting and your name falling from his lips again and again.

“Look at me,” he growled. “I wanna see you when you fall apart.”

You did. And when it happened, when your body clenched around him and you gasped his name, he followed right after, burying his face in your neck with a broken groan.

The room went quiet except for your heavy breathing and a little squeak from the couch springs.

Danny collapsed on top of you, still catching his breath. “If she calls again, I’m joining the priesthood.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You’d make a terrible priest.”

“I really would. I’m too into sin.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Next time, we put the phone on airplane mode.”

“Next time,” he whispered, “I’m throwing it out the fucking window.”

[homiesexuallaj]

I just wanna be the little spoon to a warm latino man. and I wanna feel the tickle of his mustache as he kisses the back of my neck and shoulders while I wake up

[lastofdanny]

this haircut!!!!!

[ohhoneypascal]

Yeah…

[chaoticsolsworld]

Those eyes. Can he look at me like that please? It’s not a hear me out but a hold me back. I would’ve stayed in the van idc.

[everydaydreamer]

If I had a nickel for everytime Danny plays a bad guy dressed for the snow and carries a gun, I'd have two nickels

[almadelsur]

❤️‍🔥 Crucifix

Linecook!Ash (No Exit) x Waitress!reader +18

Summary: How could you resist giving yourself to sin, when the devil himself is just so beautiful.

a/n: For the sweetest bestest @rae-gar-targaryen who’s Ash fic inspired me to write this. (Go check it out rn bc it’s truly a masterpiece)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .

You know Ash doesn’t have many friends. It doesn’t strike you as anything of concern when you see him huffing silently around the sweaty restaurant kitchen, a perfect picture of a shadow on a mission. Lots of people are introverted you tell yourself. Maybe it should have rung some alarm bells. Maybe it would have if his eyes didn’t hold dark alluring promises of sin, of that deadly pleasure you came to crave from him.

The first time you spoke to him it had been as if he had physically reached down into your lungs and robbed all the oxygen you had been holding, keeping it for himself. Greedy.

“Uh- table 9 are getting a little antsy” you stumble out the best you can, masking your nerves as frustration at the busy restaurant. And yet Ash just looks at you, studying as if he had all the time in the world.

“What’s your name?” The question is a simple command yet it leaves you fumbling your answer.

Ash just hums knowingly and hands you the plate, ready and prepped like he was waiting for you. His twisted game kicking off without you noticing the dark path you were about to barrel down. Looking like he could wreck your entire life without as much as lifting a finger. A roaring flame scorching over you until you’re reduced to nothing but-

“Ash.” He introduces himself and you swear you have never met anyone with a more fitting name.

A few months later and you’re hooked on him. He was good at that. It’s heady and unsettling just like he is, and yet you always succumb to the craving of him.

It goes as usual– you laying on your back beneath him, caged in and helpless to the relentless pleasure he draws out from you, the rhythmic push and drag stretching and burning and feeding.

You struggle to form a coherent thought in the heat of it all. All you can see is dark curls and smooth tan skin, and yet he’s sharper than ever. His gaze laser focused on each and every one of your features. The way your eyes water and- is that pleasure or fear that has you crying on his dick like that? He doesn’t think he’d want to know, he knows he wouldn’t care.

He has you tied up against your bedframe, arms stretched across like a crucifix, an image of penance. His very own sweet docile offering to a higher being for his sins. His eyes flicker to your tender chafing wrists and an image of a previous life flashes through his head– a fallen brother and a brunette with nails through her wrists. It only makes him more determined, increasing his pace and shuddering at the mantra of his name that falls past your lips.

He can’t get enough of you, he knows this when the familiar feeling of your legs begin to shake beneath him.

“Open your eyes.” he gruffs in your ear as one lethal hand comes up to grip at your hair. “Look at me.” he forces again when your fucked out brain fails to adhere to the command the first time.

When you manage to flutter your eyes open, his jaw grits.

You look at him like he’s a god. He knows the glossy gaze is prompted by the way his cockhead bullies your g-spot, but still he can’t bring himself to look away. The pure worship in your blurry eyes makes him want to lean down and lick at your tears.

He doesn’t.

The motion seems too soft, too comforting. And he doesn’t want that, he wants to hurt you. He knows you would let him too. The thought spurs him on to grab at your jaw and push into you hard and deep until your cried moans become silent and you snap, like holy water leaking all the way down to his thighs and onto the bed sheets.

When he himself is satisfied and spent, he collapses on top of you, your tied hands and heavy eyelids make it hard to console this moment as a loving one, but your mind silently wills it anyway. A warmth settling over you and pulling at your heartstrings for the man above you.

You fall asleep like that, with false feelings of security and the devil on top of you feeding into your fantasy. Keeping you hooked and placid.

And his.

[saintbusan]

Not Supposed To

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

🪞Summary:

It started with a kiss in your best friend’s hallway—hot, fast, and cut short.

Now, it’s midnight, and Joaquin is climbing through your window like he hasn’t been able to breathe since.

He says he just wants to talk.

But his hands are already on your waist.

💌 Notes:

This was supposed to be nothing. A kiss. A moment.

But he came back.

And you didn’t tell him to leave.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[first time doing this be gentle with me]

He was back—through your window again, like kissing you earlier hadn’t been nearly enough.

It started that afternoon at your best friend’s house. Just a moment. A heat-of-the-moment kiss in the hallway that should’ve never happened. But it did—Joaquin’s hands pressing you into the wall, your fingers tangled in his curls, his mouth trailing lower, tasting your skin like he’d been dying to.

You were seconds from giving in—right there, in her house, just down the hall—when you both heard her footsteps.

He pulled away with a whispered curse, breathing hard, pupils blown wide. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. He just slipped out like it never happened, like he wasn’t falling apart inside.

But now? Now he was here.

Climbing into your room at nearly midnight, eyes full of all the things he hadn’t said, wearing the same hoodie he left in—his hands already finding your waist the second his feet hit your floor.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he muttered against your throat, his lips brushing skin, warm and desperate. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and leave me hanging.”

You didn’t even pretend to argue.

Because you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. His mouth. His hands. The way his voice cracked when he whispered your name.

You pulled him down with you onto the bed, and he followed like gravity. Like he had to. His body pressed into yours like he belonged there, like the space between you was a mistake he needed to fix.

His kisses were hungry now—messy and fast and so much. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t want to stop. His mouth moved from yours to your jaw to your neck, sucking, licking, biting just hard enough to make you whimper. It lit him up. He groaned, deep in his chest, like he was trying to memorize that sound.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “That’s what I was thinking about. That sound you made when I kissed you right here…”

He dragged his lips lower, toward your collarbone, fingers already toying with your waistband like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to touch or tease.

You squirmed under him, and he just grinned—messy and cocky and entirely gone for you.

Then he paused.

Just for a second.

His breathing was heavy, hair falling over his forehead as he looked at you from beneath thick lashes. His hand still rested low on your stomach, warm and tense.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, voice low and wrecked. “’Cause if I don’t, I’m not gonna be able to walk away again.”

You stared back at him, heart hammering.

Then, without a word, you reached for him—fisted your hand in the front of his hoodie—and pulled him down like gravity had nothing on you.

And Joaquin?

He didn’t stop.