#Again SORRY for how messy this is hope its OK

[curly-fry-3]

hi, I'm the person who asked about earlier. I was thinking about a Dean x fem!reader fic, were reader is like a super badass mercenary, who got into hunting after meeting the Winchester, and is also shy as hell. Thank you! Your first fic on this account and I already love you!!!!!!

𖦹Awkward Confessions𖦹

𖦹summary𖦹 You thought dean hated you till a jerk at the bar helps him realize how he really feels

𖦹pairing𖦹 Dean Winchester x Reader

𖦹word count𖦹 2,020

𖦹notes𖦹 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST omg I can't believe people actually like my writing I had so much fun writing this one. I wrote like three pages on my doc and I was so in the zone I hadn't realized it had been TWO HOURS anyway I hope this was what you had in mind and you like it<3

Dean didn't like you. It's not like you did anything–well, anything to him– he just didn't trust you. You two had met when he and his brother had saved you from a vengeful spirit. He never thought much of you, he's helped a lot of people in his life and you seemed to be just like the rest. He never expected to run into you again, what shocked him the most is that you were hunting…like hunting monsters. That's why he couldn't trust you. Why would somebody who got tortured by a supernatural being actively hunt other monsters out (ok hypocrite). Especially you, he remembers you being so shy–reserved and scared–he read you as the type of girl to run, cry, and try to forget. 

 You had to have ulterior motives-technically you did–you were paid to hunt monsters. It was hard work but ohh it paid good. When people are scared for their life, thay will start naming some big numbers. You had run into Dean and Sam a couple times over the years (how could you not) always finishing the job before they could even do any research. You may have annoyed Dean but he could respect the grind–not that he would ever tell you. 

Now he and Sam are speeding down the road, heading to an abandoned farm where–based on their research–a nest of vampires lives. They pulled into the dirt parking lot in front of the barn and pulled out their weapons while going over the plan. Dean went in through the front entrance, passing a familiar car on his way, while Sam circled around back. Dean quietly crept through the barn until he heard the sound of fighting. Assuming it was Sam, He raced through the empty rooms till he came across…you?

Dean stopped and rolled his eyes out of frustration. That's why he recognized the car. Why are you always stealing his jobs? He did all that hard work researching for you to just take all the glory. And how the hell are you taking on a whole nest on your own? You're too good at what you do and it pissed him off.

You finish decapitating the last vampire, its head falling to the ground with a loud thud after spraying you in blood. You only notice Sam and Dean have shown up after catching your breath. “Oh…hi” You look at dean awkwardly “sorry, did I take your hunt”

Dean gives you a deadpan look, “yeah–yeah you kinda did” His jaw clenches in frustration 

You flushed in embarrassment “I didn't know you would be here”

“Whatever” He huffs out like a child 

Sam interjects to ease the tension, “how bout we get these bodies burned and have a couple drinks?”

“I would never say no to some help” you say gratefully

Dean gives sam a pointed look, “As long as your paying”

After cleaning up the bodies and cleaning up themselves (who knew killing monsters was messy) the three of them headed to the bar in their separate cars and met up in the parking lot. Dean was the one forcing her to drive separately saying she would mess up baby's backseat somehow. For how much Dean doesn't like you, he thinks about you a lot more than he should. Maybe that's the real reason you frustrate him, you and your stupid face. The way you flush at anything–how do you kill a vamp like it's nothing but shrink under his gaze–you're an enigma and you're stuck in his head. 

Driving to the bar you couldn't help but think about Dean. why was he always so frustrated with you, you didn't want him to hate you–you wished he liked you (like really liked you) You think about him a lot more than you should, he probably forgets about you the second he drives away, but you cant help yourself. Anyone with eyeballs would understand. He's just so…perfect looking. Sure it's a stupid schoolgirl crush but who cares, he hates you. You always try to be so nice, but he's so intimidating with that stupid face on his face. And the worst part is he's a good guy on top of all his hotness. You try to push all the silly thoughts away as you pull into the dive bar parking lot behind the impala, he doesn't like you at all and you're too shy to say anything. Just get drunk and forget it–maybe find a hookup.

You get out of your car and walk across the dirt lot to greet Sam and Dean. “who wants some beers…on me”

“I would love for you to spend money on me” Dean responds with his signature smile

You flush slightly at his smirk “Well then why don't you find us a booth Mr.” You ask while your group enters the bar “you guys like Del Sol right, I think you told me it was your favorite Dean?”

Sam nods “yeah thanks”

As you head over to order the drinks, Dean slides into the nearest empty booth. How did you remember that's his favorite beer, he didn't even remember telling you. There you were being sweet again, god you're infuriating.

You walk up to the bar and patiently wait for the bartender's attention. Unluckily you caught another man's attention before you could place your order. You could feel him looking at you. When his gaze started to roam your figure you started praying–please god let this man leave me alone, he looks like he doesnt wash his asscrack cause ‘its gay’. And please let this bartender have a break so he notices I'm here waiting. I guess you're not one of god's favorites cause soon enough the man approached you “hey doll, whatcha doin here alone”

You awkwardly reply, avoiding eye contact, very obviously uncomfortable “just trying to order some beer”

“Nice, I like a girl who doesn’t order no fruity drink” he tries to flirt back (is he serious, read the room)

Dean huffs in annoyance “lord, what is taking her so long” how do you just continue to frustrate him? When he looks over and notices you being approached by some guy he's even more frustrated. Who is this tool? What is he doing? Wait–why should Dean care, he shouldn't. He looks over at you to see how you're reacting to this guy and it's not good. You're so obviously uncomfortable. This dude sucks. He quickly gets up and makes his way to the bar to save you. When he approaches the man pays no attention to him and continues to talk your ear off about how amazing he is. ‘Yeah sure talk about yourself, that gets the ladies going’ Dean thinks. He quickly shuts down the one sided conversation when he wraps his arm around your waist, making you blush and freeze up. “Hey sweetheart, you get lost tryna get us some beers” He jokes to make the intrusion natural and gives the man a hard stare, sizing him up.

The man looks at Dean with an intimidated expression “what, you her boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah actually” Dean spits out, unable to hide his distaste for the man

The man started getting defensive and put his hands up in surrender “ hey look dude she didn't say she was taken and she was basically asking for it, going out in that low cut top”

That stopped dean in his tracks “what”

For some reason the man started thinking that Dean would be in his side “yeah, the slut was flirting back and everything”

Deans eyebrows raise in shock and he grits his teeth in anger “I dont know who you think your taking to but it better not be me”

You interject, not wanting to get into a bar fight “ let's just get out of here” You pull dean by the arm and take him to the parking lot

As dean follows your lead he turns back and says to the man “you say some shit like that again and im breaking your nose”

When you and dean make it outside he starts pacing and complaining to you, still riled up from the incident while you stand there awkwardly taking the situation in. Why did Dean say he was your boyfriend? I guess to get the guy to stop–but he could have just said he was a friend. You're overthinking so much that everything Dean is muttering about is going in one ear and out the other until you hear something that short circuits your brain.

“Real men don't do shit like that, I would never do that. That guy doesn't even deserve to look at you–calling you a slut–that's bullshit…” Dean rambled on but that was all you picked out before you started spiraling again. What did he mean by ‘I would never do that’? Does he think about you like that? And why is he so worked up? you know that he's a great guy, he would probably do that for any girl but he's still goin on–omg does dean like you? Omg stop being delusional. Why don't you just ask him, if he doesn't like you then he already hates you so it wouldn't ruin anything. I can't do that, that's so embarrassing. Before you could make up your mind about what to do, Dean's voice cuts through your thoughts again, “are you ok?”

“Do you like me” you blurt out before you could think “omg im sorry I didn't mean to say that”

“Are you asking if I have a crush on you…like were in highschool or something” Dean asks, teasing you

You blush at his words, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, “shut up…im not good with these kinda talks…it's just…you said you wouldn't treat me like that and i'm thinking why are you comparing yourself–or putting yourself in that scenario–if you didnt wanna take me out. Also you're like overly worked up about this” you quickly ramble “and I need you to be serious about this, no teasing, cause i'm not good at confrontation–or whatever you would call this”

A look of realization washes over his face, holy shit–now that he's thinking about it–he does like you. Like, highschool crush pull her pigtails to make her notice you–like you. His expression softens as he responds “sweetheart, i'll admit i've been thinking about you more than I should, I never realized what it was–god i've never been this open before–you're sweet, and badass when you need to be. You get so cute when I make you blush. You remember things about me that I don't remember telling you. You're nice to me no matter how much of a dick I am…maybe I do like you”

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding in, “oh thank god, if you didnt I would have just crawled up into a hole and died”

He lightly chuckles “i'm guessing you like me too”

“Duh einstein” You tease and chuckle in response

He finds himself laughing along with you admiring your smile. When the laughter died down it was just you and Dean staring at each other in anticipation till he closed the gap between you and cupped your cheek. His bright green eyes looked deep into yours “can I–”

You smash your lips onto his before he could finish the question. He quickly reciprocates and you share a sweet passionate kiss, expressing everything you're too shy to say. Dean tilts his head to deepen it until you two hear sams footsteps approaching and quickly pull apart, a trail of spit keeping you connected.

“Fucking finally, you two are so annoying” Sam states, relieved that the tension between you and dean is gone. 

“Shut up” Dean breathes out weakly and pulls you closer to his chest.

Yeah maybe you got covered in vamp blood, got hit on by a creep, and never actually got the beer you came to get but you would still call the day a success as you're standing in the dirt parking lot of a trashy bar, wrapped in dean's arms. Bless that lady for paying you to hunt this nest.

as always sorry of there are any typos

love y'all<333

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[gothcsz]

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[hpnerd18]

A Vampires Treat~

ok guys, here is the fic I made from the poll that ended the other day. I hope you guys like it , any comments are appreciated. :D

male vampire x chubby female reader.

A Vampire's Treat

Your relationship with your vampire boyfriend, Adrian, has so far been a dream. He was everything your previous boyfriends weren't: kind, supportive, loving, and absolutely in awe of your curvy body. Tonight, however, you would discover just how much he adored you… and couldn't stand how self deprecating you could be sometimes.

You wake slowly in the middle of the night to your boyfriend grinding against your ass as he trails kisses down your neck, and a sticky warmth between your legs. “Mmm..? Adrian..?” you murmur, half awake as he grips your hips and grinds his dick against you desperately. 

“ I’m sorry, its just… fuck, you smell so good. I can't help myself, baby.” he groans, sucking lightly at your neck. 

You moan softly, quickly becoming aware of the ache between your thighs as you wake up fully. “ fuck… Adrian..” Your eyes open and you gasp at the blood coating your inner thighs and shoot up in the bed as you realize your time of the month is here. “Fucking shit! Sorry Adrian.” you gasp as you blush and quickly get out of the bed, self conscious of the mess on the sheets and on your thighs. 

Adrian just looks at you in confusion, leaning back on his elbows as he gazes at you. 

“ What in the world are you sorry for, baby?” he asks, looking at you in bewilderment. 

You blush darker and gesture at the bloody mess between your thighs. “ This! It's… it's messy and embarrassing.” you say self consciously. 

Adrian frowns at your self consciousness and holds out a hand to you. “ come back here, love. Why would you be embarrassed by this? I think you look sexy as hell and you smell even better.”

You scoff at his words, not believing him. “ Sure I do..” you drawl sarcastically. “ I’m real sexy when I’m all gross like this. Look, I'll be back in a few minutes, I need to clean this up.” you sigh slightly, and turn to leave the bedroom. 

Adrien’s eyes narrow at you, a low growl building in his chest. He shoots out of bed before you can even reach the doorway, his hands gripping your hips as he plasters himself against your back and presses you against the wall. 

“ Adrian?! What the hell?” you gasp in surprise as you are suddenly pressed against the wall, not even seeing him move. 

Adrian grinds his hardness against your ass and nips your neck lightly. “ You feel that? Does it feel like I'm grossed out by you starting your period?”he growls. 

You shudder as your arousal skyrockets at his sexy growl, trying to speak despite the aching need fogging your brain. “ I… I mean… uh… what?” 

He sucks a mark just below your ear, one hand leaving your hips to pull your hair away from your neck. “ You look sexy as fuck like this, baby. And you smell better than the most exquisite dessert. I want you, i need to taste you.” 

he murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your skin making you shiver in pleasure. 

Your eyes widen at his words, your aching pussy clenching needily. “ A-Adrian.. You.. you want to taste me?” you stutter slightly; caught between arousal and your self consciousness. 

Adrian growls, tugging your head back gently by your hair, making you look at him. “ Look at me, y/n. I don't simply want to taste your pretty pussy. I fucking need it, need to taste how delicious i just know you are. I’m fucking desperate to make you cum again and again, make you soak my face.”he say huskily, his eyes near feral with need as you look up at him. 

Your jaw drops at the sight of him, your eyes darkening to near black with lust. “ Youre… youre sure? I can just clean myself up like I always do.” You say, desperate for his mouth on you but too self conscious to give in fully.

“ You have no idea how desperate I’ve been to taste you, baby. Tell me you don't want me to taste you and I’ll stop. But if this is just you being self conscious again because of the little boys you dated before…”

You blush, slightly embarrassed as he hits the nail on the head. “ Dont stop..” you whisper, your face a deep crimson as your blush darkens. 

Adrian grins wickedly and pulls you away from the wall only to toss you onto the bed, making you bounce for a moment. “ I’m going to make you feel so good, love. I’ll make you cum again and again until you wont even remember what you were self conscious about.” he purrs as he prowls towards the bed, his fangs glinting in the dim light. 

You blush as he crawls onto the bed with you, slowly sliding his hands up your thick thighs until he reaches the waistband of your bloodsoaked panties. “Lift your hips, love.” he says softly as he starts pulling them down. His eyes meet yours, so filled with lust and love that your heart skips a beat. You lift your hips so he can slide your ruined panties off, blushing as he inhales the smell of your blood soaking your panties before he tosses them away. “ Relax , love.’  Adrian murmurs as he spreads your legs, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to pin you in place. He slowly licks at your bloody folds, both of you moaning lowly as he does. “ Fuck… you taste so good. Just like I knew you would.” He purrs, his hungry grin your only warning before he buries his face in your folds, licking and sucking hungrily at your core. 

“ Oh! Oh fuck! Adrian! Mmm.. oooooo… oh fucking hells!” you gasp and moan as he eats your pussy like it's his only mission in life, your hands buried in his dark, soft hair and tugging lightly as you lose yourself in your pleasure. 

“That's it love, give it all to me… be a good girl for me and cum all over my face.” He growls against your pussy as his tongue flicks your clit before sucking hard on the swollen nub. 

You whine , your eyes damn near rolling in your head from the pleasure building in your gut. “ fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Yesyesyesyes.. ADRIAN!” you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your hands tugging on his hair as you grind against his face as you cum. 

Adrian moans and drinks down your release, his tongue cleaning up every drop of cum and blood from your folds before he pulls his mouth away. He licks his lips clean, grinning as you moan at the sight. He slides up your body to kiss you softly before he nuzzles your neck as your orgasm dies down. “ You alright, baby?” he asks softly, gently stroking your hair as you calm down. 

“ I’m better than alright… I feel fucking fantastic.” you say with a silly grin on your face. 

Adrian smirks at that. “ Good… because I'm just getting started.” he says as he slides down your body and spreads your legs wide and nuzzles his face against your pussy. 

Your eyes widen at his words, your need just as insatiable as his hunger for you. “ H-huh?”

He grins up at you before he flicks your clit with his tongue, making you gasp. “ I told you… I’m going to make you cum again and again, until you don't even remember what you were self conscious about.” he purrs before he buries his face in your pussy, his tongue swirling around your clit before sliding into you.

You moan loudly as your hands clutch at his hair desperately; unable to do anything but hold on for the ride as one thought echoes in your mind. 

‘ It's going to be a long night…’

[mooooonnnzz]

ok HEAR ME OUT?!!!1! Stanley x daughter reader BUT buut the thing is after ford deletes the memory of Stan?l, how would reader react?? What would she do??????? 🤭🤭🤭🤭 EHEHEHEHEHE

Clean Slate

Stanley Pines x Daughter! Reader

♡ 516 words?!

♡ my shortest work yet

♡ i wanted to post something!! and i rlly liked this request so i did sum short n simple

♡ i have this stanford x kid reader brewing and its soo messy like drama wise, and just overall sad and im so excited to share it

♡ might be coming out tomorrow or wednesday? dunno!

♡ but in the meantime, enjoy some tiny angst!

⠀➳ When Stan didn’t even recognize Mable when she approached him, you felt your heart crack in two. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There was no way he lost his memory, right?

⠀➳ You walked over to Stan. He looked so lost and confused, an expression that you never saw your dad often wear. You gulp down your sobs and introduce yourself. “Hi, Dad.” Your voice is frail and tiny. You knew you wouldn’t be able to stand having your Dad not know who you are, but what if there was a slim chance he remembered you? You’d do anything to take up on that chance.

⠀➳ He looked at you, eyes squinting at you. A moment of recognition flashes in his eyes but it’s lost as fast it came. “Dad?” He repeats, shock riddling his tone.

⠀➳ “I have a kid?” He whispers to the others, jabbing a thumb to you. “Yes, Stanley. This is your daughter, [Name].” Ford said, placing his hand on your shoulder. He thumbed your shoulder in a reassuring manner, but all it did was remind you of how Stan would do the same whenever you were down. It made the gaping hole in your heart ache even more.

⠀➳ “She’s too pretty to be mine. There’s no way!” Even with all his memories lost, he’s still cracking jokes. “Dad…” You throw yourself on him, arms wrapping around him tightly as you sobbed onto his shoulder. Stan’s eyes blew wide in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that from you and it left him speechless.

⠀➳ “I’m sorry, kid.” He says, wrapping a comforting arm around you. “I hope you feel better soon.” He pats your back, the other hand running down your hair.

⠀➳ Pulling away from the hug, you step away from him. You couldn’t bear being around him, knowing that he doesn’t remember you at all. The twins hold onto each of your arms, both quietly sobbing.

⠀⠀➳ On your way to the Mystery Shack, you tried your absolute hardest to jog up his memory by sharing stories of your childhood with him. “There was this one time where for Summerween, I was dressed up as Rupunzel and you were the tower.”

⠀➳ “That sounds like a pretty awesome costume.” He said. “It was. We won the costume competition. Of course, I was too young to remember but I have a photo in my room.” Sharing the memories he doesn’t remember didn’t help much, it just caused you more pain.

⠀➳ “Maybe you should leave him be, dear. I don’t think he’ll remember anything.” Ford tells you. Another stab straight to the heart.

⠀➳ When you got to the very beaten up Mystery Shack, you were quick to run over to your room and with careful steps, you uprooted your little book full of photos of you and Stan from under the rubble.

⠀➳ You and Mable took turns showing him memories of the past and each telling, Stan showed signs of remembering.

⠀➳ Your spirits grew and once he fully recovered his memory, you engulfed him in tight hug. “Please, never forget me ever again!”

⠀➳ “I won’t, pumpkin. I won’t.”

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

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The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

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Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[justlemmeadoreyou]

I'd love some period fluff if you're taking requests 💘 maybe reader staying round H's pretty early in their relationship and she starts in the night or something and is obviously super embarrassed but he's just very gentle and calm and trying to make it all ok for her ☹️

sure, pookie <3 here it is! hope you like it ❤️

***

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling a dull, cramping pain in your lower belly. As you became more awake, you realized with dread that your period had started unexpectedly while staying over at Harry's place. 

You felt mortified when you reached down and discovered you had bled through your sleep shorts and onto Harry's nice sheets. Panic rose inside you, your face flushing hot with embarrassment in the dark room.  

Thank goodness Harry was still sound asleep beside you, snoring lightly. If he woke up to this messy situation, you thought you might actually die from humiliation. 

As carefully and quietly as possible, you slid out of his warm embrace, trying not to make any sudden movements that could wake him. The cramps made it hard to move silently, but you didn't want to disturb his peaceful sleep.

Finally free from the bed, you wondered what to do next. You desperately needed some feminine supplies, but were too embarrassed to go searching through Harry's things without permission. But what other choice did you have?

Taking a deep breath, you tiptoed into his private bathroom, praying you could find what you needed. The fancy bathroom gleamed even in the low light, with its sleek fixtures and plush towels. But you had no idea where to look first.

"Looking for something, love?" Harry's deep, sleep-roughened voice startled you from the doorway.

You let out a muffled shriek, whirling to find him standing there in all his shirtless glory, looking concerned. Your face burned hotter as you struggled for an excuse for rifling through his bathroom uninvited.

"I...uhh...s-sorry, I'll just go back to bed-"  

But before you could make your escape, Harry stepped closer, worry etched across his handsome features as he noticed your hunched posture and the arm pressed to your abdomen.

"Wait, love, what's wrong? Are you alright?" His brow furrowed as you shook your head miserably, trying not to cry from the mortification.  

"Hey, it's okay," Harry murmured soothingly, reaching to pull you into a gentle hug. You tensed at first, but then melted against his warm, bare chest as he started rubbing soothing circles across your back.

"Whatever it is, we'll get through it together, alright? No need to be embarrassed with me."

You sucked in a shaky breath, leaning back just enough to meet his caring gaze in the dimness. "I...I got my period," you stammered, feeling heat flood your face again. "A-and I wasn't prepared and..." 

You trailed off, grimacing as you glanced down at the stained sheets peeking through the bathroom door. But instead of the disgust you expected, Harry's expression was nothing but compassionate.

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry," he murmured, cradling the back of your head and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's no fun at all, is it?"

Sniffling, you shook your head again, fresh tears pricking your eyes at his sweet understanding. Most guys would be completely revolted. But not Harry, of course. Your wonderful, loving Harry.

"Come here, let's get you sorted out," he soothed, keeping an arm wrapped around you as he guided you further into the bathroom. With his free hand, he started rummaging through the sleek vanity, pulling out various supplies.

"Harry!" you gasped, watching with wide eyes. "I didn't think you...I mean, do you actually keep...?"

He shot you a cheeky wink over one broad shoulder as he lined up pads, tampons, pain medication, and even a fresh pair of cotton sleep shorts. "A guy's gotta be prepared for any situation, love. Never know when my best girl might need me."

Your chest flooded with a rush of affection and appreciation. How was this amazing, considerate man actually yours? You stepped into his arms again, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, Harry. I'm so lucky to have you."

"No, I'm the lucky one," he corrected, scratching lightly at your scalp in the way he knew you loved. He pulled back to drink in your features, emerald eyes shining with pure adoration.

"Feeling any better now, darling? Need a warm bath or heating pad?"

You shook your head, squeezing his waist. "No, I'm okay for now. Making me feel completely loved and cared for is the best medicine." 

Harry beamed down at you, crinkling those adorable dimples. "Well in that case, I've got an unlimited supply."

He dipped his head to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, one hand cupping your jaw tenderly as the other traced soothing patterns along your lower back. You sighed against his mouth, relaxing into his strong, steadying embrace.

When you finally parted, his forehead resting against yours, you took a deep, calming breath. "I love you so much, Harry."

"I love you too, period and all," he quipped, making you snort-laugh even as happy tears blurred your vision. "Now let's get you cleaned up and back to bed, alright?"

You nodded wordlessly, watching through an adoring gaze as he set about quickly changing the sheets with fresh ones from his linen closet. Within minutes, the bed looked fresh and inviting once more.

Harry ushered you in first, plopping down on the mattress beside you and instantly gathering you against his chest. You nestled into his warm, comforting embrace, trailing your fingertips idly across the silken smooth skin stretched over his toned biceps.

"Thank you, Har," you murmured drowsily, feeling your eyelids already growing heavy again as the stress from earlier fully dissolved.

You heard the rumbling vibration of his low chuckle against your cheek. "Anything for you, darling girl. Always."

Pressing a soft kiss to your temple, Harry stroking your hair soothingly. You were just drifting off into peaceful slumber, cocooned in his arms, when his voice rumbled once more.

"Though if you do happen to wake up with any particular cravings, I'll need some advance warning before raiding the shops for the entire stock of ice cream and chocolate..."

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requests are open! | masterlist |

[mochamadeleines]

Sins, Two Through Four <3

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Theyre nice, sure. Honeyed voices and beautiful eyes. But theyre just not for him. He prefers to stick with what he knows best. Messy, broken, women who are looking to distract themselves with him and his body. Sharp eyes topped with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow. Women who know what to do with him.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that. (3.3k words)

tags!! 18+ javier peña x reader ! one shot! inoccent reader i guess?, no set era just vaguely somewhere in the late 80s early 90s :p, since its like entirely from his perspective hes only referred to as Javi and not javier sorry if that bothers u </3, corruption, religious allegories, steve and connie r there for five seconds, dubious I suppose cuz they be drinking, smut but its not like Good and its also there for about five second lolol.., p in v sex, blow jobs, rough sex, lots of depressing internal dialogue for javi Uhhhhhh, Sus thoughts abt causing harm to u I GUESS?? Toxic javi of course lol. kinda bad boy x good girl concept here but he wants to make u WORSE. mannn idk, some dom/sub dynamics if u squinttt

authors notes!! hi! Ok my first Javi fic LOOOOL been binging narcos and i had to take a break from my joel fic in the works to write this shit. I SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY PUMPING THIS OUT AHHHHH Beinf as that ive been working on it For One whole day it may not b my best work but i still had fun!! i kinda like the religious allegories Uhh IM NOT RELIGIOUS OR SCHOLARYLY OR ANYTHING so take whatever i reference with a grain of artsy salt.. enjoy!!!!

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Theyre nice, sure. Honeyed voices and beautiful eyes. But theyre just not for him. He prefers to stick with what he knows best. Messy, broken, women who are looking to distract themselves with him and his body. Sharp eyes topped with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow. Women who know what to do with him.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that. 

That brings him to now, at this crowded bar with Steve, later Connie. And you, he guesses. Hes never met you but hes heard of you. Tonight youre tagging along so thats that.

Anyways, Steve is updating him on his daughter and something else about enrolling her in private school but New York City is wildly expensive. Javis caught the eye of a pretty brunette further away from the bar hes sitting at. Shes in a black miniskirt begging to get taken off.

“Stop eye-fuckin’ her, Im talkin’ to you.”

“Relax, Im listening.” Javi takes another drag from his cigarette, tapping away the ash into a tray.”Youre a hard worker, Im sure you can find a way to move up and earn a little more for Olivias private schooling.”

Steve sighs, nursing his beer as he thinks. “Maybe. Just dont wanna be away from her more than i have to be.”

“Mm.”

The brunette beckons him over, and Javi is already sliding off the stool to meet her. “Ill be r-”

“Steve!” 

Connie is here, and so is her-

Friend? 

Youre wearing a baby blue slip with sheer white tights and a thin, white cardigan. Youre pretty. Its only when you introduce yourself and he meets your eyes that hes sure. Youre good. And he doesnt do good. Youre not his type, Javi decides. Lame.

He moves down a seat so you can sit next to Connie whos also next to Steve, and you seem nervous. He gets the feeling you dont come out to places like this a lot. Its too.. Grungy. People smoke inside and get crazy drunk and dance. Probably not your speed. Youre easy to read.

Steve, “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“From work! Shes a nurse.” Connie smiles at Steve first, and then to you. A nurse, of course. Because youre good and its practically oozing off of you. Maybe hes wrong. He hopes hes wrong. Only because youre so pretty, with pretty pink blush and lipgloss. 

You now, “I work in pediatrics.”

You work with children? Jesus christ.

You help people- help your community and take care of children. Javi had to watch children die, over and over, all too complicit each time it happens. No, youre not his type. Hes not into angels. Javi is far from holy and isnt about to desecrate you.

Then there's this feeling that starts to stir in his gut. An ugly feeling that wants to scratch through flesh and bone to get out.  He takes the final drag of his cigarette before smushing it into the ashtray. Why do you bother him so much? Maybe its because upon your arrival that pretty brunette he was eyeing disappeared. A real shame.

But youre here, and your breasts are softly spilling over the neckline of your dress, and while the length is enough to cover your ass when youre standing, the way it looks while youre sitting is a whole different story. Youre good eye candy. Glass half full thinking.

He clears his throat. “How long-” 

The bartender interrupts with a pearly smile. Hes asking if you want anything and hes obviously into you. Annoyingly so.

While youre ordering, Steve and Connie walk away to dance, and Connie stops by Javi, dipping her head to his ear. “Please, please dont fuck my friend.”

Ironic.

“Dont worry,” He leans his elbow on the counter, finishing the rest of his whiskey. “Shes not my type. Go have fun.”

You order three shots of vodka and apple juice. Its a little cute the way you hold your nose while you down each shot and chase it with some juice. Javis on his next glass of whiskey, watching how some of your drink rolls down your collar bone and into the valley of your breasts.

The sight of you is downright sinful. Its not fair.

“You need another shot or are you good now?”

Youre laughing, batting your hand dismissively. “No, No. Im good. I hate alcohol so I wanted to get this part over with and loosen up a little.”

“You dont have to drink it if you dont want to.”

“I like being drunk, just not drinking.”

“Fair enough.”

You fold your hands in your lap, and spin your seat side to side. “You were asking me something earlier?”

“How long have you been a nurse?”

“Three years now. I was working at a different hospital until recently. Thats how I met Connie.”

“Ah.”

“And you? What do you do?”

Javi lets the silence linger a bit. Fuck it. “Uh, CIA- but im retired now.”

“Oh- Yes! Right! Connie- She told me. Im sorry, you probably dont wanna talk about it.”

This is what makes his gums start itching. Most women- who are just as tragic as him- just bat their lashes and tell him its sexy he works for the government.

But you- Youre good. So you actually care about how hes feeling, and arent just trying to fuck him. Maybe that could change?- Ugh- No- no. Just no. Youll be ruined. Youd get dirty and thatd weigh him down like everything else does. Plus, Connie told him not to.

“Um. Have you done anything fun recently? Aside from all that?” Cute how you try to change the subject to spare his feelings.

Javi breaks open a new pack of cigarettes, slipping one out and putting it between his lips, then flicks his lighter on. Once, twice. A fifth time. No dice. The fucking thing ran out fluid. 

“Fuck,” He grumbles.

“Ah! Hold on!”

An eyebrow is raised.

You dig through your purse, and pull out a disposable lighter. You thumb the sparkwheel a couple times to get the flame going.

“Do you mind?”

Javi hums no and leans forward. You do too, cupping your hand over the flame in case it goes out. It lights, and he gets a good drag in.

“Thank you.”

“Youre welcome.” And youre smiling again and Javi wants to shake you around and see where youre hiding your halo. Hes good at getting information out of people. He could get you to confess.

“Any reason you carry around a lighter?”

“Uhh. For medicinal purposes.”

“Cheeky.”

You spin in your chair once, all the way around then wobble when you stop. Javi shoots his arm out to grab yours and keep you steady. 

“Careful.” 

“Thanks.” A short breath. “Still think I need another shot?”

Javi smirks. “Oh, definitely.”

And youre ordering two shots. Bold.

“To answer your question, I havent done any fun things, no- Oh actually, you know what? I went to the art museum the other day.”

“The MET?”

“Mhm.” 

“I went there a few months ago! Its beautiful isnt it? Do you have a favorite exhibit?”

“Probably European sculptures. The ones under the skylights were my favorite.”

“Yeah, those are beautiful.” You look off, dreamy. 

Youre a childrens nurse, youre bad at drinking, you like art, and Javier feels sick just sitting next to you. Theres so much ugly out there, hes sure youre aware, and yet youre as bright as ever infront of him. Youd probably fit right in with The Triumph of the Church. 

 Theres only one word that can describe that ugly feeling swirling in him. 

Envy. He wishes he could be as untouchable as you feel right now.

Theres a push and pull. He wants to taste your lips and roll up your dress and roughen you up, but he cant- he shouldnt. You dont deserve to get felt up by someone so unclean.

And yet,

Your beautiful smile, one that always reaches your eyes, and your precious laugh, and the way youve been nervously playing with your hands this entire time makes him want to break you. To rip those wings out and keep you from flying. 

Javi really is devilish.

“Okay, shot time!” You push one of the glasses towards him. 

“Im not taking a shot,” He takes another puff from the cigarette, then lets it rest on the ashtray.

“C’mon, Javier! Pleeeeeaaaase?” 

“Javi.” He emphasizes.

“Okay.” You nod, “Javi, please?”

“Fine.”

Alright, alright. It didnt take much, but to be fair ‘please’ and ‘Javi’ just sound so good together when you say it. 

Clink! 

You count to three, and together you take the shot. Javi only grimaces at the taste and youre scrambling for the juice after letting go of your nose. Youre so damn messy about it too. Javi gets the bartender to get some napkins.

“I think I'm done,” You cough.

“I think youre done too.” He smiles, “Do you normally spill your drinks on yourself?” 

You patiently hold still while Javi wipes down your mouth, then your chin, then your collarbone, careful to not get too close to your chest. He eyes the dainty necklace that carries your first name initial. 

“Noooo, it all just happens so fast, you know? Oh! And thank you for cleaning me up.” Youre smacking your lips together, “Ah shit, my gloss.” 

“Yeah, looks like you ate it all in the chaos.” He glances over at the four shot glasses, all stained.

You groan after digging through your purse. “Fuck, I left my compact at home.”

“Being a girl seems hard.”

“It is.” You sigh, albeit dramatic. “Ill be back.”

You slide off the stool and almost eat shit actually. At least Javi is there to catch you. Again. This might be a recurring theme tonight considering how many drinks you had. Must be a lightweight.

“Im sorry- Fuck, Im so sorry,” Youre laughing again, and it gets a laugh out of him too. Back on the stool you go.

“If you fall again Im not gonna catch you.”

“Thats okay, I wouldnt catch me either.” 

Javi thinks for a moment, curious. 

“I could, yknow, put the gloss on you. If you want.”

“Really? Youd do that?”

Your eyes are big and bright, lashes accentuated by your mascara. The way you look at him makes him feel oddly special. Its not sultry, or wanting. You have this natural allure to you. Angelic. That alone makes him want to touch you again. To yank you down from the clouds.

“Yeah, gimmie the gloss.”

You put it in his palm and lean towards him. Javi messes with the applicator, listening to the squish of product inside the tube. Seems easy enough.

Javi situates himself more comfortably in the chair, then holds your chin as he applies it. Youre well behaved the entire time, like he expected, except for the fact that you lost your balance again and gripped onto his thigh to keep you from falling. He clears his throat. There are blaring alarms in his head telling him to put distance between you both.

“Sorry.”

“Its alright. I dont mind.”

You swallow nervously. Any angel would be nervous if they were this close to an agent of hell. Get it? Agent?

Javi tucks away the fly aways first. The applicator swipes across your bottom lip, and hes squinting at the little sparkles in the gloss. Its a nice touch. His thumb rubs away any excess to keep it neat.

“Good job for not falling again.” 

“I had some help.” And youre both grinning now.

“Mkay, all done.” 

You smack your lips, nodding. “Thank you.”

This is the moment where Javi should let you go. He should excuse himself and find someone who isnt you, someone whos filthy just like him, and have them instead.

You tilt your head in his palm, letting him cradle your face.

But youre so pretty, and youre so sweet, and youre right there. 

That feeling from earlier is bubbling up again, the need to ruin you. You might look prettier covered in bite marks and sweat, with your hair messed up and your recently applied gloss all gone. Again. 

He shouldnt.

But then again, what are sinners even good for if not this? Converting others and carrying on the missions of the Devil himself, you know, the works. Fuck, its not like he wasnt doing it anyways. Shout out to the government.

Javi observes you, trying to make a decision. “Hey,” 

“Hiii.” 

“Can I take you home?” 

Its was easy, and you were so well behaved about it too. You did a little nervous yapping on the way to his apartment but it was cute. He learned you had a pet cat, and he tells you about the dog he grew up with. You talk about the shitty weather recently and Javi tells you he got rained on and slipped going up the stairs. It settles your nerves. Good. His phone keeps ringing in the glove compartment, but he just tells you to ignore it. Steve no doubt.

He makes sure to hold your hand on the way up to his apartment, giving it a squeeze before he lets go to open the door.

Javi’s heart never usually pounds this hard bringing any woman to his place, and its downright sinnister how excited he is. 

When the door closes, you both leave your shoes at the door. 

“Want anything? I dont have any apple juice but I can give you orange juice? Water if you want that instead?” 

“Orange juice sounds good.”

You begin to linger about his living room. Youre probably getting a feel for how impersonal it all is. Plain. His room is a bit more interesting, at least. 

Javi hands you the glass and shucks off his leather jacket, draping it over one of the kitchen chairs.

The first time he kisses you, is while walking through to the entrance of his bedroom. One hand gripping your hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He swallows ever whimper, every sigh, every squeak until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Javi pulls away, watching the string of spit snap and cling to your bottom lip.

“Are you good at following directions?”

“Yes-Yes. I am.” You choke out.

Now sat on the bed, “Great. On your knees then.” 

Tonight, youre going to pray. Youre going to sing.

You hesitate to get down, but do it with no complaints. Javi stretches over to the bedside table, grabbing a spare pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

Your eyes are on him, patiently waiting for another command. 

He continues to smoke at a leisurely pace, petting your head and caressing the apples of your cheeks. Youre leaning into his hand affectionately again.

Youre hit with some of the excess smoke he breathes out, coughing a bit. 

“Javi-”

“No more talking. Understand?”

A beat passes, and you nod again, only shuffling forward to rest your head on the inside of his thigh. Javi taps away the ash.

“Good girl.”

You stay down there for a little while, only squirming and wiggling to relieve the soreness settling into your knees. You dont talk, you dont whine, you dont go grabbing at him. You stay put because he didnt tell you to do anything else. Youre good. Angels are loyal to a fault.

When you do get a command, youre perking up like a dog. Cute. Javis telling you to take his cock out.

You go for it, and he tuts at you. “Do it slow.”

And so, youre doing it slowly now, pulling out the leather from under the buckle, opening it up and then popping open the button to his jeans. Your lips press into a thin line, looking up at him for reassurance.

“Go on.”

His zipper is pulled down at a snails pace, and your eyes widen at the lack of underwear. No surprise there. Javi sighs when you take him your hand. 

He lets you feel him up curiously, your thumb wisping over his flushed tip, smearing along the white beads gathering there. 

“Put it in your mouth.”

You stiffen, unsure. Javis reminded that youre good and you probably dont do this kind of thing a lot. 

“Its not hard, nena. Promise. Want me to teach you?”

Youre nodding now, more eagerly.

“Start by kissing it.”

Tentatively, you kiss starting from the bottom up- That much you know how to do- So its a good start. He sighs out the last bit of smoke and stretches over to the bedside again to put out the cigarette. 

After kissing, youre licking, and after licking, youre finally trying to swallow him. He groans, holding the back of your head and coaxing you to take more.

You gag, backing out to catch your breath then taking him in again.

“Jus’ like that- Fuck-”

And somehow the slight inexperience gives you the upperhand. You want to be good for him, and your  clumsy hands are doing as much as they can to make up for your lack of deep-throating capabilities.

Its when you suck harshly on the head that he hunches forward with a gasp. “Yeah-Yes.”

You do it again, and again, and hes so fucking close now but he stops you. Not yet.

“You did good.” Javi reassures you. “Get up.”

You wobble up onto your feet and hes pulling you into a kiss, hands exploring you all over with urgency. He needs it now, to do what he wanted to do at the bar when he first started talking to you. He needs to drag you down with him.

Javi pulls your cardigan off, and then your dress, and as more layers of your clothing come off the more he cant wait. Youre moaning under his tongue, only squirming when he nips at the flesh of your torso, leaving a trail of blossoming bruises in his wake. He tells you to lay down and you follow accordingly. 

Javi kisses up your stomach, and the junction between your neck and shoulder. You almost speak, almost. And it has his dick harder than he thought it could get. Youre still obeying. Fucking incredible.

He pulls your hips forward, making you whimper. A finger traces through your folds, and he practically gushes with pride just feeling what hes done to you so far. He hasnt even gotten to the best part.

“Talk to me,”

Youre babbling now, “K-Keep touching me- Dont stop. Please, Javi.” There it is again. ‘Please’ and ‘Javi’. He cant say no to someone whos been so reverent thus far.

He rewards you by tracing soft circles around your clit, watching the way your abdomen flexes at the pressure. The combination of nervousness and arousal has your thighs quaking around his forearm. You give in so easy. 

Javi tells you to lay on your stomach, Then, hes pressing kisses up your spine to soothe you. To sedate you. 

You practically crumble when his cock reaches all the way inside you. This is it. Hes going to rip those obnoxious fucking wings out of your back.

“Javi,” You wheeze, clawing at the sheets. His hand sits on the nape of your neck to keep you pinned down. Javi grunts, doubling forward over your back. Its almost like hes punishing your guts just because youre you. 

He grabs your wrists instead, pulling them behind your back and anchoring himself with one hand. The other curls into your hair, yanking your head up from the pillow you covered in drool. 

You sob, trembling when Javi buries himself to the hilt. Hes panting over your neck like a dog, licking and nipping there like one too.

“Thank you,” You sniffle, twisting your neck to get a glimpse of him. Your mascaras running down your face. Humble, even in the face of your own sacrilege. 

Javi shushes you with a sloppy kiss. Hell only accept your thanks when hes finally run you dry.

Tonight is the night you fell from grace. All because of him.

[harksness]

Heaven

A/N: RAAAAH i'm so painfully horny for this woman isjbfaisubg this request was EXACTLY something i wanted to write after coming back from my long ass hiatus, but it was already getting so long i only fulfilled most of the request i'm sorry :( i want to get more practice writing again before ms. mommy agatha's show comes out so i'm planning on coming back and doing the throat fucking part of it after i complete a few of my other requests... just in its own lil mini fic i hope thats ok but yeah! i'm a lil rusty bcs it's been so long, i rly hope everyone likes it <3

the request

Warnings: Mommy kink, dom! Agatha, sub! Reader. Lil bit of a breeding kink, magical strap, magic being used for sex, praise, pure smut

WC: 3.4k

Agatha has two fingers deep in your mouth. Pressing lightly on your tongue, dragging in and out as she fucks into you, your eyes fluttering shut with each slide back in along your tongue. Your cheeks cave to try and suck her long, slender digits back into your mouth, desperate to keep her inside of you in any way you possibly can.

“Mmm.. Such a good girl for Mommy… You love it when I fuck your mouth, hm?”

Her voice is gravely, a depraved grin of desire wide on her features. You whimper out a pathetic sound around her fingers, feeling a bit of drool slip past your lips and trail down your chin.

Your chest is heaving. She’s already played with you, used you thoroughly, and you still want more from her. You don’t understand the effect she has on you, how she does it, but no matter how much she satisfies you, you’re always desperate for more of her. More of her attention, more of her love, more of her mouth and fingers..

Looking up at her through your lashes, her wild hair hangs in her features, making her look crazy. She bites into her bottom lip, still grinning. You let out the most desperate moan around her fingers as she presses herself down and starts grinding her bare, wet cunt against your naked thigh.

“Fuck.. I love it when you get messy for me.”

She breathes the words out hotly.. You can feel how soaked she is against your skin and it only turns you on more as you begin to slightly rock your hips up into her.

“Can you be a good girl and take another finger?”

Agatha asks so sweetly, pretty blue eyes full of love and affection as she fixes them onto your mouth. You don’t even have to process what she asked to obey- doing whatever Agatha wants of you is programmed into every fiber of your being. You’d move the moon if she asked.

You open your mouth to form a wide O. Immediately she takes advantage of the opportunity you’ve given her, dragging out her previous two fingers to run along your bottom lip tenderly for a moment before sliding three of them back into your mouth, back along your lip until they’re knuckle deep. You immediately begin to suck on her long fingers.

She grinds harder against your thigh, and you let out a loud moan that’s muffled by her three fingers slowly fucking into your mouth. Agatha ghosts her lips against your ear, breathing out her next words hotly.

“I want to know what it’s like to feel your sweet mouth wrapped around me..”

She’s breathless. Her movements against your thigh quickens as she lets out a short gasp of pleasure. You feel yourself getting more wet as you realize what she means.

“Wanna feel..”

Her breath hitches. You let out a pathetic noise as the rolling of her hips against your skin becomes more frantic.

“God.. Wanna know what it’s like to feel your messy cunt.. Wanna know what it’s like to fill you up, and watch my love drip out of you.. Make you all mine.. Just mine..”

You let out a needy groan around her fingers, nodding desperately as you try to convey just how badly you want it too.

Agatha stops her movements. Dread drops into your gut. She was close. You wanted to feel her cum on your thigh so badly… But she leaves you little time to mourn as her fingers slip out of your mouth. 

The older woman wraps her fingers around your jaw, steadying your lolling head to look right up at her. She smears your spit onto your cheek. You need to blink a few times to focus your vision, but there she is, icy blue gaze hot on your features, mouth quirked downward in a serious manner. Her hair is so knotted and messy, hanging right over her breasts and covering the sides of her face as she addresses you.

“What if I had a real, feeling cock, baby? Would you let me use it on you however I want?”

Agatha purrs, a smirk etching onto her features as she runs a hand up your chest. You frantically nod, racing to answer any of her questions as quickly as possible.

“Oh my god, yes..”

You moan and she’s grinning as she moves off of your leg, positioning herself between them instead. Her hands hook behind your knees, pulling you so that you’re laying flat on your back. You let out a gentle yelp of surprise before she leans down towards you, her breath fanning over your lips.

“Would you let me fuck your pretty mouth until you couldn’t speak?”

She softly traces her pointer finger along your wet lips to accent her hypothetical question. Well.. Hopefully it won't stay hypothetical.

Her voice is low. Immediately you nod your head. She’s got a mischievous, sensual look to her features now as her blue eyes hang half lidded with lust.

“Would you… Let me use your sweet pussy however I want?”

Agatha’s lips grow into a coy smirk, softly brushing her nose against yours as her voice lowers even more with each question.

“Oh absolutely…”

You breathe out, desperately trying not to rub your thighs together. Her hair tickles your chest just slightly, one of her hands still firmly gripping into the soft skin around your knee as the other holds her balance as it rests on the bed.

“Would you let me cum deep in you… Fill you up so much that your cute little hole starts dripping, hm? Let me fuck it back into you and fill you up again, and again?”

A pathetic whimper escapes your throat as you throw your head back..

“Oh, Mommy, please… I wanna feel you.. Want you to fill up my pussy, please- Oooh!”

You gasp, snapping your head forward. Excitement bubbles in your chest, heat rising through your abdomen as you see what’s between her legs. And yours.

Warm, purple magic dulls from her hand as she finishes conjuring up what she needs. You bite your lip as you notice the thick, long, purple cock planted between her legs. It’s strange not seeing it attached to a harness. Instead it’s connected between her legs, you assume to her most sensitive spots…

The tip is between your wet folds, pushing them apart as she begins to experimentally drag herself through you.

“Oooh.. Baby, you feel absolutely divine…"

She lets out a deep moan, eyes locked between your legs. Agatha leans back so that she’s resting on her knees between your parted thighs. You let out little gasps of pleasure as she experiments with you, controlling the tip of her cock as she drags it through your wet folds, up and down, before she begins toying with you a little more..

Her wild hair hides most of her face from view, dangling as a curtain in front of her beautiful features. But once in a while you catch a glimpse of her knotted brows and her teeth pinching her bottom lip, entranced and entirely focused as she toys with you. 

Agatha slowly drags the tip further up.. Catching your clit. You let out a deranged moan as she rubs firm, slow circles against your sensitive nub, fisting the sheets as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

Agatha wraps a hand around your hip, guiding the tip of her cock back down as she readjusts your legs. You hold them apart for her, desperate for whatever she’s willing to give as she spreads you wide. You hold your breath in anticipation as she presses in gently.. It softly slides into you with ease. You let out a sigh of relief at the little bit of delicious stretch you’re granted as her tip parts your sopping folds. But she does no more than the tip.

The older woman throws her head back, letting out a long moan as you feel her fingers bite into your hip.

“Haaa… Oh baby.. So, so good..”

She babbles, her low, frantically horny voice makes you desperate to touch yourself. Even though it feels as if every inch of your body is on fire, so desperate for her to move, to fuck you, to touch you more, to get anything more from her, you stay still. Determined to be obedient and please Agatha, you focus on your breathing and twisting your fingers in the sheets.

You let out a pained groan, so desperate for more as she drags her cock back up to your clit, nails biting into your hip deliciously. She repeats the action several more times, gaze locked on where the two of you are joined. From your clit, to teasing your entrance, and back again. Repeat, over and over. It’s driving you mad.. The low, breathy moans she lets pass through her lips rather consistently aren't helping, either. You’re unable to stop your squirming and desperate noises, they're just growing and getting worse with your building arousal. Eventually you can’t help but start outwardly pleading for more.

“Please.. I want you.. I’ve been such a good girl for you, Mommy, please..”

You babble, and she looks up at you. You know she loves seeing your wrecked face. She sticks out her bottom lip, feigning pity as she coos at your pathetic sniffles. Agatha leans over you, taking your jaw in her hands, peppering kisses all over your features.

“You’re right, baby.. I’m so sorry. You’re just so perfect for me, I want to make this last forever. I want to etch the way your perfect cunt feels into my memory..”

Her words are dripping with sweetness as she kisses the corners of your lips.

“Feels so good.. Please, Mommy, more?”

It comes out as a question when you don’t really mean it to. Your mind is just so hazy from all the teasing, you can barely keep yourself together. Agatha smiles at you, overflowing with joy at your wrecked state as she starts to trail soft kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

“Anything for my good girl.”

She purrs against your skin, and then heaven.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she pushes in. Adjusting your legs, and planting one hand firmly back onto your hip as she does so. There’s no resistance, only warm, perfect euphoria as inch by delicious inch she slides into you and the stretch feels so good. You babble to her, telling her how good it feels as you let out a long moan, every part of her magical cock against the walls of your cunt making you feel electric with pleasure.

Agatha’s jaw is stiff, lips hung open. Her eyes are clenched shut, shoulders heaving with her heavy breaths as she feels you take her. She lets out a long moan.

“Oh, angel.. You feel like heaven..”

She hums as she pushes the last bit into you. Lidded blue eyes meet with yours as her hips press flush against your own. You whimper and moan, squirming beneath her as you try to ground yourself somehow, finding it impossible to do.

“Mommy..”

You gargle out pathetically, and she shushes you.

“Oh baby, I know, I know.. You’re being so good for me, my lovely girl..”

Agatha coos at you, eyebrows creased with affection as she pulls her long hair over one shoulder. She knows how much you love it when her hair is down- easily being able to pull on it, or run your fingers through her smooth brown locks is one of your favorite things to do while she fucks you. It’s so hard for you not to lean up and start toying with it as you wait for her to move.

She plants one hand on the mattress by your head, leaning over you, and you could start drooling from how good she looks. She adjusts your legs and you allow her to move you however she pleases, spreading them open once again as she comfortingly rubs at your thigh. 

Her hair drapes over her shoulder, tickling the side of your chest just a bit. Her perfect breasts hang in your face, and you have to grab the blankets harder to resist the urge to take them in your hands to lovingly worship. The long expanse of soft, pale skin along her chest and stomach are so tempting for you to run your hands along- you want to trace your fingers over every scar, every freckle and mole. Her pretty face is set on you. God, your heart stutters in your chest as you look at her- thick eyebrows set in concentration, beautiful blue eyes eating up the way you look underneath her, and her perfect pink lips set in a slight smile.

She quirks a teasing eyebrow down at you.

“You can touch, sweet thing.”

Agatha sounds oh so amused when she says those words.

You whisper out quick, appreciative thanks as you raise your hands and immediately start smoothing them over her breasts. You paw at them gently, running your thumbs over the plush skin, moving your hands to run your thumb over her soft pink nipples. 

“Look up at me… Focus those pretty eyes on me…”

Her words are controlled and breathy as she tries to keep her composure.

You listen right away. You’re sure you look like a ruined, sloppy mess all for her. 

And you know she absolutely loves it.

She begins rocking her hips, not pulling out. Just rocking, and grinding into you as you toy with her chest. Agatha's enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around her, loving the warm, wet friction. She hums softly whenever you run your fingers along her nipples the way she likes… She tilts her head back and moans loudly, her lips dropped open and eyes rolling shut. She looks so beautiful, absolutely unreal.

“Such a good cunt, baby..”

Agatha groans, continuing to rock into you. You moan pathetically, feeling her slip out just a little bit now. She starts to thrust into you, short and shallow as if she can't stand not being buried in your pussy. You clench around her, whimpering a bit, and immediately you flush in embarrassment when you hear the wet noises sounding from where the two of you are joined. 

You drop your hands, enjoying watching her breasts move with each of her desperate thrusts. Her grip on you is a vice, nails digging into the plush of your ass and your hip from where her hand is wrapped around you as she urges your legs up.

You fold them around her nimble hips, locking your ankles together high up on her back. She drops down onto her forearm, letting you wrap your arms around her back, whining appreciatively as you run your hands over her soft, damp skin.

“Sweetheart, you feel so good..”

Agatha mumbles, her voice hazed over with pleasure as she ruts into you, moving just a bit faster. Your moans are broken, hoarse and wild, barely able to push them past your lips at this point. You let out a pathetic whine once again, somehow unable to shut yourself up regardless of how broken your voice is.

“Mommy.. Want you to cum in me.. Please..”

You pathetically beg into her shoulder, peppering sloppy kisses on whatever bit of soft skin you can reach. You mindlessly run your hands over her smooth back for a moment, mind hazy and lost in the euphoria her desperate thrusts are delivering to your mind. But then she buries her face into your neck, propping your hips up as high as they can before she snakes her arms under your back, wrapping them around you as she begins to fuck you with desperate, shallow thrusts. You let out a surprised moan as your nails dig into her back.

You’re so hot, but her warm body pressed flush against yours like this feels so good. Being able to feel her arms pressing into you, her soft skin and smooth curves pressed up against yours.. You're able to feel nothing but Agatha, she's filling all of your senses and you wish you could live like this forever. She bumps into your clit with each thrust, your eyes blurring with pleasure each time as you start to feel your orgasm build. 

“I’m gonna fill you up baby…”

She breathes the words against your ear and you’re moaning louder, feeling yourself clenching around her cock.

“Fuck-”

The word is a continuous, broken moan. You’ve never seen Agatha like this before. So desperate, broken from pleasure. You hum out a moan, holding her tighter, clenching around her as you grow excited for her to lose herself in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Please.. Mommy.. Want you to cum deep in me.. Want you to fill me up until it spills outta me.. Please..”

You babble, her grip tightening around you. She’s desperately grinding her hips against yours, pressing hard and deep, rolling her hips around and around and the friction on your clit is making your mind grow fuzzy. She’s moaning into your shoulder, curses strung between sweet praises and pet names as she snakes a hand from around your back, cupping your cheek and turning your head towards her.

Agatha crashes her lips onto yours, biting her way into your mouth as her tongue melds with yours. You let out a high pitched moan as your legs tense around her hips, your nails digging into her back as yours arches off the bed- your eyes pinched shut with pleasure, your body seizing up as you clench around her cock.

Agatha moans loudly, her thrusts stuttering and sloppy as she feels you cum around her. Her face contorts in that of pure pleasure in a way you've never seen before, head thrown back and mouth clenched as it hangs open in a silent moan, eyes pinched shut tightly. 

Her hips stutter into yours a few more times before she tightens her arms around you like a snake constricting around its prey- hips pressed so hard into yours you're sure you'll bruise. But you don’t care, you're excited to see the bruises in the morning. 

Your eyes lock onto her features as she lets out such a raw moan- unlike anything you've ever heard from the woman before as she shoots thick ropes of cum as deep into you as she possibly can, face buried into your shoulder as she continues to constrict around you.

You hold her back tightly. Arms wrapped around her, feeling the softness of her skin as you keep your legs locked around her back.

She’s breathless, panting as she presses soft kisses all over your upper chest and your shoulders as you both come down from your highs. You smile softly at how she's always looking after you, even when having her moment. Your chest is heaving as she leans back, her hair even messier than before as you reach up to begin petting it into place with your fingers.

“God, you're absolutely perfect… Such a good girl for me..”

Agatha grins down at you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. You smile into the kiss, caressing the side of her cheek when she leans back.

“I’ll always be a good girl for you, Mommy…”

You purr up at her, aware that all of her wishes for the night haven't been fulfilled yet. She returns your inviting words with a smirk, her eyes pouring with affection. 

“Oh yeah?”

Agatha leans backwards, slowly pulling out of you. You gasp and wince slightly at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you, and the mess it's leaving on your skin and the sheets.

Your lover seems entranced, humming in excitement as she eyes the mess between your legs. Her hand glows purple with magic again as she hovers it over her cock, before it disappears and she starts running the tip through your messy folds.

You whimper at how sensitive you are, but still, excitement builds in you. 

“Are you gonna follow through on your promise from earlier, baby?”

She teases you, voice laced with mockery and that sly smirk of hers quirking at her lips as she presses the tip to your entrance once again. You gasp.

“I promised to always be a good girl for you, didn't I?”

[thir10th]

hey lovely! can I request a fic where r is feeling insecure with her body lately and emily shows how beautiful she is? fluff w some smut if you feel comfortable :)

Hi anon! your timing couldn't be better. This has been sitting on my drafts for weeks, i kinda hated it, but you just gave me an excuse to get back to it, so thank you for that and for requesting! Hope you like it <3

will you? - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the ask. I changed it a bit but the main idea is still there tw: insecure reader, face-sitting, oral sex, body image, tiny bit of angst (blink and you miss it) a/n: this one might be a bit messy but i still enjoyed writing it! like & reblog <3

You throw your bag far away when you enter the hotel room. This case was getting hard, nothing was making sense, and you had been working for the past 14 hours none stop.

You need to ether sleep, eat something, a shower, or an orgasm. Or maybe all of them

but that isn't an option right now, because you're mad at her.

You aren't even sure why you had gotten so upset about it, its not like she had actually done anything, but you were still annoyed.

You were actually mad at yourself, more than at your girlfriend, but her words still resonating on your head wouldn't go away.

Emily's arms wrapping around your waist make you jump, getting you out of your thoughts.

Hugging you from behind, she rests her face on your shoulder, you feel her warm breath on your neck, she kisses your cheek lovingly.

Her arms leave your waist to reach your shoulders, her hands massage your arms which makes you close your eyes in pleasure, relying on her touch. Maybe staying mad wasn't that worth it.

"You know what i think you need?" she moves a strand of hair to kiss the curve of your neck "mh- what?" you say, a smile of pleasure starting to form on your lips

"I think you know what" she answers, you can feel her smile against your skin, her teeth brushing against your shoulder, and then you realize what she has in mind

"No, no, Em, absolutely not" You refuse, pulling away from her touch, turning around to look at her, crossing your arms.

"ugh i can't believe you're still thinking about it, after this morning" there it is, you are pushing her away again.

Why is she so insistent though, why can't she just read your mind and understand?

"Ok, ok I'm sorry, I just don't understand. You're always so open to trying new stuff, and that, just... i don't know, baby, i just want to know why you don't want it, that's all" She says, her hand reaching to rest on your arm to comfort you.

You just can't tell her, you're too ashamed. That same morning your girlfriend had suggested you tried something new in bed. She had asked you, boldly, (like she always did) to sit on her face.

She had insisted so much, you had denied every time.

Really, what was there to hate? your beautiful girlfriend was literally asking you to fuck her face, to eat you out, to give you full control. But you just couldn't do it.

"c'mon, baby, i just want to understand" she is being gentle, using her persuasion skills on you, calling you by the special pet name that would only come out in moments of special intimacy or vulnerability

She knows how to get to you, and that only makes you angrier.

You take her hand off your arm, getting yourself away from her, you need to be alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, try to keep it in your pants while i'm gone, all right?" you spit at her, and seeing her mouth-opened expression, you regret it inmidiately.

Standing under the warm stream of water helps you get your mind off of things for a while, while you wander what's exactly got you all worked up like this.

Emily doesn't deserve any of this, she had been nothing but sweet. Yes, she has been insistent about it, but that doesn't mean she had to be hit in the face with your own insecurities.

Getting out of the shower you stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror. God, you hate how it makes you feel, but what you hate the most is how you're paying your own frustrations with your girlfriend.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, you get out, ready to face an angry Emily, instead she lays on the bed, already on her sleep clothes, reading with her book resting on her knees

"Em?" you try, she looks at you from over her book, then gets back to reading

"You're not gonna talk to me?" you ask

"whenever you're ready to actually talk to me, then I will. I'll try to keep it in my pants in the meantime, though" she shoots back in a sarcastic tone.

She's right, you shouldn't have said that, it had been a low blow.

You sit beside her, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the nightstand. She looks at you with mixed anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know i didn't, this is just hard for me" you try to explain. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea, alright?"

"I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable, but i want you to talk to me, i've been trying to get to you, and you just shut me out" she says, sitting upright on her spot on the bed, taking your hands on hers, looking you in the eyes

"it's just... i don't want to... hurt you" her mouth falls open once again "hurt me? that's what this is all about? baby c'mon, you won't hurt me, why do you say that?" her tone switches to full concern now, the previous argument already forgotten

"yes, i will, I will choke you with this big stupid things and you won't ever want to go down on me again" you finally let out

"well... I'll die a happy woman then" she chuckles, trying to downplay it

"Ok, baby, listen to me" she holds your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her, the tenderness of her gaze deepening into you

"i love every part of you, even the ones you don't like, thighs included" she waits for an answer but you don't say anything.

Emily lifts your your chin with her finger, and leaves a soft peck on your lips, the contact makes you relax instantly

"you are smart" she says, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek

"and beautiful" now getting your other cheek

"and sexy" she kisses your nose this time

"and so, so hot" she moves back to kiss your lips again, and you chuckle nervously at her words

"what can i do to help you believe me?" you shake your head "let me bury myself into you, please" her pleading is getting too much, her thumb caresses your face so softly, so tenderly.

How could you deny her anything when she asks so sweetly? you finally nod, the huge smile spreading along her face

"Em, are you sure?” you ask, biting at your lip as you watch your girlfriend sit on the edge of the bed and recline back, laying face-up atop the covers with an eager grin spread across her face. “I might weigh too much…”

Emily raises her head up and shoots you a look. “Honey, I’m positive,” she says, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.

She wants you on her so badly she can barely stand it, eyes flickering between your face and the bathrobe that covers your thick, delectable thighs from view. 

A moment of deliberation passes, then, without another word, you reach down and untie the soft white hotel bathrobe, letting it slide down your arms to fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you completely naked in a matter of seconds

"fuck" you hear her mutter "you're so beautiful" Emily breathes

“Not as beautiful as you” you murmur as she clambers onto the bed.

You crawl up it until you are kneeling beside Emily's head, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your combined weight.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes.” her decisiveness tells you she wasn't joking, she does want this more than you had thought

You take a deep breath in and then lift a leg, swinging it over Emily and settling it on the other side of her head so that you are straddling her, your cunt hovering mere inches over Emily's mouth.

"Promise me you will tell me if i'm too heavy, or if you can't breath" too excited to resist, Emily reaches up to thumb at your clit. 

“I will” she says, sliding her free hand along your thigh, rubbing comforting circles into the soft skin.

“I promise you i will tap you twice, but i won't need it" she reassures. "You’re gorgeous—fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

Cautiously, you lowered yourself down enough that your near-dripping pussy was just barely pressing against Emily’s face.

You were planning to keep as still as possible in order to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around Emily or put too much weight on her, but that idea flew out the window almost immediately after her tongue darted out, flattening itself against the lips of your pussy before dragging upward and settling at the soft nub of your clit. 

“Oh,” you gasp, giving a shuddery little jerk of your hips before you can stop yourself.

Emily moans in reply, the sound vibrating against your walls and causes you to whimper again. 

Her tongue flicks out, circling your clit and applying occasional pressure, whilst two fingers push inside you, crook and rubbing at your sennsitive inner walls.

You shudder and gasp, quickly losing yourself to the feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” you gasp out, finally giving in to the temptation to reach down and fist her hand into her silky hair.

Your girlfriend lets out another appreciative moan when you give it a rough tug, the vibrations making every feeling intensify.

Losing yourself to the pleasure, you rock your hips against Emily, knees pressing hard into the mattress. She has always been an expert on driving you wild like this.

Her nose rubbing right at your clit and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping tighter on the headboard. God, she has the perfect nose for this.

Emily’s mouth wrap around you, tongue sinking into your pussy as far as she can while she sucks at you, eagerly lapping your juices into her mouth.

Her hands groped at your ass, encouraging you to roll your hips, effectively riding her face.

She keeps up the pace, mouthing desperately at your clit until you can feel yourself letting go.

Hips stuttering and then stalling. Your thighs shook up, inner walls spasming around Emily’s fingers as you fall over the edge and into bliss.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Em...” You breath out, your chest heaving as you very slowly open your eyes, coming down to earth as Emily leaves little kitten licks on your cunt, sucking up as much of your juices as she could.

Your body shudders when her nose brushes against you again, this time an accident and she chuckles softly, helping you swing your leg over her and drop onto the bed beside her.

Emily stays put, lying face-up as she catches her breath. Then, once she feels able to, she rolls onto her side and grins at you.

"good?" she asks, her fingers softly playing with your hair

"absolutely perfect" You reply with a dreamy smile, pulling her to you for a kiss. You can't help but moan into her mouth at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"I'm really sorry of what i said, Em" you said, keeping you face close to hers, holding her

"It's ok, I know you were upset. I just want you to know that i love every single part of your body, no exceptions" you kiss her sweetly, her words causing a warm feeling to spread on your stomach

"you're perfect" you say, pulling her in for another kiss

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like it! reqs are still open!

[chrislilcumslvt]

Wait till I get off

Warnings: Blowjob, moaning, cum eating

streamerbf! Matt x y/n

Blue: Matt

Purple: y/n

Orange: Chris

Green: Nick

Matt was playing Fortnite with his brothers he was also streaming, Y/n came in thinking Matt wasn’t streaming.

Babyyyy y/n says climbing onto Matt’s lap, Love I’m streaming right now oh she says embarrassed, It’s ok love you can sit here while I play ok baby she says laying in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly y/n got the idea to tease Matt while he was playing she started kissing his neck, Matt gasped and almost let out a moan but held it back.

Mmm love what are you doing he whispers, Nothing baby she says continuing kissing his neck mmm love can’t you wait till I get off please, Why I want you now she bites his neck he let’s a groan he turns off his camera and mic.

Love please let me finish this game and I promise I’ll give you whatever you want, Y/n sighs and gets off his lap and goes on his bed Matt turns on his camera and his mic, Sorry guys technical difficulties.

After a while Y/n couldn’t take it anymore she needed Matt she slowly crawled on the floor and got to Matt’s gaming chair, Matt looked down at her Love what are you doing he whispered she slowly ran her nails down his thighs Matt let out a groan stay quiet for me baby don’t you dare mute your mic I want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are for me, He whimpered at her words and tried to keep playing but kept looking down at you.

She slowly was removing his sweatpants, Matt pick his hips up to help her get them off she palmed him through his boxers, Matt hissed at her action God love please he asked her getting impatient, So needy all of a sudden she slowly took off his boxers Matt picks up his hips again his dick hitting his stomach.

He turns off the camera so Chris and Nick can’t see him she grabs his dick and slowly stroking him Matt throws his head back, Fuckkkk…love don’t stop he whispered so his brothers don’t hear,She puts her hair up in a messy bun, She kisses Matt’s tip and swirls her tongue on his tip Matt groans and Chris and nick hear this Matt did you just fucking moan!?!?!, Matt what the fuck was that!!.

N-nothing guys I hit my knee on the table she slowly takes him in her mouth bobbing her head slowly, Fuckkkk… baby your mouth feels so good on my dick not caring I’d the guys heard him he took off his head set he grabs her hair and thrusted into her mouth she moans sending vibrations on Matt’s dick.

Nnghh~~ please baby go faster she does as he says stroking what she can’t take Fuckkk mmm~ ~ goddd baby I’m close, She slows down to tease him No no no why did you slow down he pushes her head down making her keep going she gags a little Fuckk sorry baby ,tears were slowly coming down her face when she gagged around him.

She continues she goes faster, Fuckkk baby I’m gunna c-cum a few seconds later he comes down from his high she strokes him a few times licking his cum dry he whimpers cuz he was still sensitive from his high.

She licks him dry she gets up off her knees, Did you like that, Yes love I liked it Matt kisses her and puts his headset back on to hear Nick screaming MATT WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING!?!!?

OMG FINALLY ITS OUT HOPE YALL LIKE IT 🎀🎀

[rendy-a]

Hi, uhh I'm not really used to requests?

If you could do like a Self-aware TWST headcanons/fic idk

Like of the first years or Cater or.. Lilia idk

Thank you ♥︎

I feel like the theme here is both boys just seem to know too much about you.  They are so skilled at figuring out all your business and doing it in a way that leaves you oh so unaware.

He low-key cyber-stalks you online.  It’s easy for him because he probably helped you set up all your socials and knows the passwords.  Not that he intends to do anything BAD with that info.  He just likes to keep up with what’s going on in your head.

Ok, so maybe he sometimes deletes your DM’s.  Trust him, Player, you didn’t want to see that message anyway.  Some people just don’t understand boundaries!  He’ll tell that flirty Savanaclaw B you aren’t going on a date.  Or that slimy Octavinelle C that you aren’t interested in that sort of deal!  Just leave that unpleasant stuff to your Cay-Cay!

If you actually want help running your socials (you popular Player, you), then he is your guy!  Just tell him what sort of vibe you are trying to develop, and he’ll totes take care of it.  Approachable food vlogger?  Edgy fashion vlogger?  Slice of life daily vlogger?  Anything you want goes!  Cater is more than happy to accompany you on any of these trips to be your camera man (and maybe someday more?)

The click of the camera shutter sound effect on your phone indicated Cater had finished taking your picture with the tart you ordered at the café in town.  You set your fork down and noticed Cater smiling at you.  “What?” you questioned him with a smile.  He laughs lightheartedly, “Oh nothing much, you just have a bit of cream there.”  You gasp and reach for your napkin to clean yourself up.  “No wait!” Cater says as he grabs your hand, “This is actually a perfect opportunity.  Let’s get a pick like this too.  You look totes adorable like this!”  You embarrassingly allow Cater to direct you into a pose featuring both the tart and your messy lips.  The camera sound comes again and you hurriedly set the fork down and wipe your face before Cater can suggest a re-shoot.

You only hope no one else has seen you being so foolish.  You look around carefully and cringe to see that most of the café patrons are watching you eat.  Being the famous Player was certainly a form of celebrity you hadn’t anticipated.  When your eyes settle on a table of students from NRC, one of them holds your gaze and jumps to his feet, “Oh!  Oh!  Hey there, Prefect!”  You smile awkwardly and wave unenthusiastically.  “Oh, hey,” you meekly reply.

This is all the encouragement he needs to stand and approach your table.  “It’s so nice seeing you around the town like a normal student,” he gushes to you.  “Well, that’s what I am.  Just a…totally normal student,” you finish lamely.  He beams back at you before getting a sheepish expression, “Oh and I’m sorry about the other day.  I didn’t realize how much I was imposing on you.  I should have known you’d be busy!”  You look at him with wide-eyed astonishment until Cater slides into the conversation to suggest the NRC student return to his own table.  “I don’t remember ever meeting that guy,” you mumble quietly to Cater, “what was he going on about?”  Cater pats you gently on the back, “Who knows.  Maybe he just thought you were closer than you were.  Some guys just don’t know when they aren’t wanted, ya know!”  Then he slides and arm around you, “Don’t feel bad though.  Your guy Cay-Cay will always be at your side to tell them off for you.”

Whenever you have a question or need some information, its only natural that you go to Lilia for guidance.  He always seems to know just what you need!  Sure, some part of that is because he follows you around everywhere and can easily anticipate what you are looking for.  Then he has time to research until he allows you to locate him to ask for his knowledge.  That isn’t being manipulative, that is called being wise!

Ok, fine.  Sometimes he creates situations that cause you to need him as well.  To be fair, he is a fae and they are known to have a habit of mischief-making.  He is just indulging in his fae nature, and you can’t fault him for that, can you Player?  I dare you to say that you can when you are looking into his unbelievably large and innocent-looking bat eyes.  Don’t make him shed crocodile tears for you because he will! 

At least it seems like the only situations you are involved in lately are the Lilia induced ones.  Other troubles seem to have found their way somewhere else.  A pointed look from the fae hanging above your head in the shadows is all it takes to make those troublemakers take their argument out of your sight.  To think that they actually thought they could speak to the great Player about such trifles!  Not on General Lilia’s watch!  He’ll come out of retirement just to guard your precious self!

The wind blows through the cracks in the walls of Ramshackle and you hear Grim complain for the tenth time today, “I don’t wanna study now!  The great Grim doesn’t need to look things over every day!  I’ll just cram before the exam and do fine.  Now get outta my way Prefect, I’m going on a tuna run!”  You spread your arms wide, blocking the door even more.  “Oh no you don’t!  We are one student here; your grades are my grades!  I need you to study!”

Grim turns from the door and heads toward the window, as though he might choose to escape by jumping out.  There was an old tree, baren of leaves this time of year, that grew very near that window.  It wasn’t impossible to imagine a cat-like creature, such as Grim, might be able to make the jump to freedom.  You wondered if you should abandon your post as a door-guard to block the window instead when Grim startles and backs quickly away from the window.  You edge closer, alarmed at his reaction, to peer carefully into the night.  You look first at the windowsill and then at the bare branches of the lonely tree outside but see nothing shocking.  A bit of movement catches your eye, and you notice Lilia near the fence of Ramshackle waving over the crumbling stones in an oddly exaggerated and cutesy way. 

You turn back to Grim, “What’s up with you?  There isn’t anything there.”  He looks at you carefully and replies, “Didn’t you see him there?”  You look back out the window and see only Lilia, who is now floating above the fence and reseing his chin upon his hands as he forms them into a heart-shape.  “All I see is Lilia competing with himself for cutest lad in Diasomnia.  What am I supposed to be looking for?”  Grim gives you a look that is both pity and horror.  After a moment of silence, his unusual behavior gets to you.  “Maybe you are working too hard,” you say as you head to the door you’d just been blocking, “Why don’t I go grab you that tuna after all?” 

He gives a sigh and sits back at the desk, flipping open a textbook.  “Just forget about it.  I ain’t in the mood anymore.”  You look worriedly back at him, but he just continues to study.  You sit on the bed for a bit to watch over him, but it isn’t long until you’ve nodded off.  Grim, on the other hand, continues to dutifully study.  Why not?  It’s not like he’ll be sleeping tonight.  Not after the eldritch horror he’s witnessed hanging in the tree outside.  Lilia doesn’t usually employ that level of scare tactic outside of Halloween pranks, but for you, Dear Player, he is willing to make exceptions.

[corviiids]

hello ⭐star⭐ for that one post about fanfic director’s commentary, hope you’re having a lovely day

thank u so much!!! i hope ur having a wonderful day too :3 ok hmm let's go with death note this time. let's talk about they both die at the end

(obviously death cw and suicidal ideation cw as well and also it's long again.)

so this one is kind of an undignified wrestle with mortality and legacy. no big dramatic strides made in that struggle, because i think getting satisfying closure about the acceptance of your own death is sort of gauche. i prefer a running stream of consciousness where you kinda flop around in the ring and kind of come to terms with things but in a really damp and hollow and itchy way.

throughout this fic i tried to use L's narration to contrast the source of his panic with the source of light's. both of them are acting sort of out of character in the sense that neither's behaviour is really aligned with the way they act in canon, and the reason i did that is sort of as a response to their own impending deaths. nobody's going to act like themselves in that circumstance. i even have them say it outright:

“I’m not really a nihilist,” says Light. “I wonder what you’d think of me if you’d met me on a normal day.” ... [L:] “I’m not ordinarily apathetic, either, by the way.”

one very simple detail showing that contrast is this:

L closes the door without locking it. He picks a direction at random and starts walking.

...

And it’d turned out they were nearby, so now they’re at Light’s apartment. “I didn’t think I’d be back here today,” he tells L, sticking his key in the lock. “Sorry if it’s messy.”

basically, light is in flight and L is in freeze. L doesn't bother locking his door when he leaves the house in the morning, but light does. L knows/accepts/has resolved that he won't be returning home that day. part of light still refuses to accept that, even though he leaves the house with the intention of ending his life.

i don't think it's fair to say that L's acceptance is more mature or that he's more at peace with his fate. it's more like...

so, L approaches situations with the perspective of looking at what is. he's truth-oriented. he accepts the facts of a given matter and then uses them to extrapolate what comes next. that extrapolation is really key to his character so it honestly bugs me a lot when people try to say that L is a purely logical character. he's not! he's running on intuition like 99% of the time and a lot of his extrapolations are wild and not evidence-based at all, but the reason for that is that he has an incredibly strong intuition based on how effectively he processes information. so L understands based on the phone call that he's going to die today, and there's really no point arguing around that fact. however, he can't actually figure out what his next steps are, because there are no next steps. he's going to die today.

throughout the story he struggles immensely with the fact that there is a piece of information he can't attain using the information he already has: he doesn't know when he's going to die, only that it's going to happen before midnight, and so he is completely unable to plan what he should do next, because he can't see any course of action through to its conclusion:

Two. Three. Two. Three. Four. Three. Two. L shakes his head. Can’t count up. Can’t count down. The numbers keep changing, but he can’t find zero. “No,” he says. Deductive reasoning, by its nature, requires premises—in order to find a fact, you must have a fact to begin with. You cannot begin with a baseline of nothing. With no reference, there can be no inference. L keeps counting, but there is no zero, or rather, there is a zero and he doesn’t know where it is. The next second could be his last, or the next, or the next, and all he can know is that at some point the ticking will stop and there is no way to orient himself to it because that point keeps moving .

this drives L crazy. that uncertainty is being represented by this incessant ticking in L's head which won't fade. ok so have you ever used a metronome? say you're counting in 4/4, so the click would play like ONE two three four ONE two three four. the rhythm is steady, but there's one emphasised beat to orient you to where you are in the measure. or, say, a ticking clock, where you can glance at it to see where you are in the 60 seconds that make up a minute. you can count down to when the next minute begins. or a timer, where you can see it counting down to zero. in L's head, he knows the ticking is counting down to the moment of his death, but he doesn't know what it's counting down to because he can't see it. he doesn't know where zero is, there's no emphasis to orient him, and he doesn't know which second he's at in the minute. he could start doing something and then die in the next three seconds, and it would be abrupt and jarring and unsatisfying, like the feeling you get when you take a breath and get winded. so he's in freeze. L accepts that he's going to die today, but he doesn't know when, and the whole time he's thinking about all the things he's never gotten to experience in his life because he's always sort of taken the concept of existence for granted. but he can't figure out how to take steps to try and check things off, because he's never actually made that list. and why make it now? because he might not get to finish them, and that's really unsatisfying. and how do you prioritise when you know you're not going to get to the end of your list and your list is infinity items long? he can't plan. he can't move. he's stuck. he panics, frozen.

light on the other hand has always had a plan for his future, and he's just watched that timeline rapidly shrink and cut all the opportunities off that he'd always been counting down towards. suddenly everything he's done up until now feels like a huge waste, because it was all a run-up to something that now doesn't exist. and he can't bear the fact that the control he'd always taken care to maintain over his life has suddenly been wrested away from him. that's why he starts the story out trying to kill himself - at the very least, he can control the when and cut the fear off.

Light swallows his mouthful of tuna and says, “If I can’t control my fate, I can at least bring it about myself.” “Does controlling your fate matter to you?” “That’s a stupid question,” says Light. “If you asked me yesterday I’d have had a hundred thousand things to say that mattered more to me than choosing how I’d die. My options have just kind of narrowed today, that’s all.”

L's right, though - light never would have done it. light wants to live more than he ever realised. i think light's had this moment of looking down the tunnel (hehe) and staring down his own impending death and realised he's not finished yet, but that's been taken out of his hands. he's realised that the mark he's left on the world has been so small and insignificant, and that if he dies now, that'll be all that's left of him. he's not willing to accept that. but that's the way things are. so he's in flight: run towards his own death so at least he can control the pace at which he dies? try to outrun the inevitable? try to speedrun a meaningful life to see if he can make some kind of mark before he stops existing for good?

“I don't know what we're walking to,” says Light. “I feel like I'm walking closer to my—to my own—” “We can stop.” “That just means it'll happen here instead. I don't want to die here, either.” “Where do you want to die?” “I don't,” Light says. His face crumples. “I just don’t. I'm not ready to be done.”

this is my favourite part of the fic tbh. it's based on a nightmare i had once that ended up changing my entire worldview. wahoo!

not to be a wanker but to an extent this is kind of what everyone's doing, technically, walking towards what will inevitably be your death, since time only moves in one direction and all that. but unlike everyone in the real world, light can see it. he wants to walk in the other direction, but it's all around him. he can see it growing closer the more he keeps moving, and all he wants to do is stop.

“What do I say?” Light asks desperately. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Mum.” Break. “Sorry I'll never give you grandchildren. Sorry I didn't get to graduate. Sorry you'll have to bury my dreams with me. Sorry for nineteen years that came to nothing in the end. It came to nothing.”

re: light refusing to speak to his family: i think he explains himself in the fic enough, but there's also another level where i think talking to his family about it means he'd have to formulate this fact into words which is difficult when he's not really accepted it himself, and on top of that, he would need to carry his family's grief and he's just not ready to do that. there's like a weird thing about talking to people who are already grieving you. i always felt really weird about that when talking to [friends/relations] who were terminally ill. light's relationship with his mother is kind of unexplored in canon but i wanted to go into it i think because your mother is someone who holds a unique spot in your life, i think, assuming you have a good relationship with her, and there is that reported phenomenon where people who are about to die tend to call out for their mothers. i guess this might be controversial but i think it's textually supported that light really cares about his family. i dont think light is ready to look at them and see them looking at him like he's someone who's already gone, and see all the things he never got to do with/for them. i honestly dont think hed survive it

ultimately it was really important to me that light died for no reason and that he didn't really have any material impact on anything. he dies trying to save a child, but someone else saves the kid first. light didn't have to take action at all. but of course, he did

As L stares, reaching hands scoop the toddler off the street from the other side.

i think in a sense it's up to personal opinion whether light had an impact or whether his friendship with L mattered at all before he died. after all, L died like an hour later, and it's not like he had anyone to pass those memories on to. he didn't even know light's surname. the memories of their last day together only exist with each other, and now they're both gone, so did it really matter? what does it mean to matter anyway? do you have to leave a legacy? is it enough that light managed to be L's only friend in the hours before L stopped existing? probably?

It's dark now. Properly dark. It's a new moon tonight, and though the stars do their best, there's little that can cut through the blackness in its absence.

...

L stares up at the moonless sky.

...

It might have been nice to die with the moon.

ofc light's name is written with the kanji for moon. just a silly joke lol.

L's death is something that's more likely to happen when you're alone, by the way. he gets mugged because he's an easy target sitting alone on a park floor. too bad he didn't have more friends and his only friend is dead.

also, the fact that he's a detective who gets murdered in a random act of crime was sort of another nod to the futility of the whole thing that light struggles with in canon. like, work your ass off, solve crime after crime, bring people to justice, but it never ends. crime continues. so is there a point? (yes, obviously.) but that's just a return to the struggle for legacy and meaning, where it's hard not to wonder whether the thing you're doing matters if it's not permanent / if you didn't solve something for good / if you didn't leave a mark that will never fade. i dunno. i think L did enough good in his lifetime. it wasn't enough to save him, but everyone dies eventually, so maybe it doesn't really matter?

i didn't want to give either of them the dignity of a full final thought. light definitely doesn't realise what's happening in the moment before he dies because he didn't see the truck, so i think he didn't have a chance to formulate one.

L watches a look of relief cross Light's face in the split second before the truck horn blares.

L of course gets cut off mid-sentence, just like he'd implicitly feared he might - trying to check things off the list, tie things off, before he's done:

What might a good final thought be? A final sight? He wonders if he could possibly find a star before

hopefully if you read the fic you got something out of it! it is, i think, intentionally pretty hollow and futile feeling, but not in a way that's supposed to make you feel hopeless or nihilistic. well, i hope not. i think there's something really cathartic that comes with the kind of closure you get specifically from accepting that sometimes there's no closure. that's how i felt writing it, so hopefully reading it is something similar. i dunno!

[gr1mstar]

tea, tissues, and two hearts…

synopsis: after not listening to your boyfriend telling you about the cold weather a few days ago, now you are stuck with a cold right before an event. gojo takes care of you, now being his turn to make yourself his baby.

notes: i had a bad day so i thought writing something sweet would cheer me up. i hope you liked it, i personally do not like this oneshots that mush, i was tired when i wrote this but… well, it is what it is :) requests are opened btw, you can ask me for anything (besides smut)

contains: gojo satoru x f!reader, sick reader, cuddles, sfw, sweet bf satoru, nicknames, swearing (not much)

also i have a masterlist, so check it out here

it was tonight? 8 pm… fuck.

as you lay in bed, wrapped in layers of blankets, the chill of the night seeping through the window pane only intensifies the warmth you seek. The room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow on the tissues scattered around, evidence of the cold that had claimed your night. 

the warmth of a cozy blanket cocoon provides some relief, but your body aches, and every shiver is a reminder of the festivities you're going to be missing. The night is silent, just your coughs and sniffles can be heard, punctuated by the occasional sigh as you longingly glance at the clock, realizing that the party you were supposed to attend is in two hours.

‘i can’t not go…’ you thought, looking at nothing.

your head was spinning, you barely ate, and how you had to stay up all night entertaining some old ass man just to make your boyfriend’s family happy.

the gojo clan. at first, you thought that satoru’s parents were nice, but you were proven wrong when you heard them talking about you behind your back, saying that you are not good enough for their ‘perfect’ son.

‘perfect my ass, he can’t even boil an egg without ruining the kitchen’ and so, you left the bed with a long sigh of extenuation and heeded in the direction of your and your boyfriend's shared closet, passing a mirror. as you stand before the mirror, the reflection staring back at you appears both weary and determined. the cold has taken its toll, but tonight, you're determined to transform this sick-looking person into a beautiful lady for celebration. with a gentle touch, you begin to prepare yourself, tying your messy hair into a ponytail.

foundation, blush, contour, hightlist… ‘where was that lipstick again?’ 

god, you hated it. all you needed was a warm tea and some sleep…

after an hour and a half, you were ready. taking your phone in your hand, you could see that you had some unread messages from gojo.

“baby, don’t forget about the party. don’t wait for me, i will come already ready just to pick you up” - 1:23 pm

“it’s a formal event” - 1:23 pm

“are you ok? this morning you looked off” - 5:55 pm

“i’ll be there in a few” - 7:45 pm

you didn’t dare to tell gojo you were sick. even though you knew he would be very sweet about it, you didn’t want to hear the words ‘i told you’ over and over again.

a few minutes passed by and when a door sound was heard, you knew your boyfriend was home. all you could hope was that he didn’t notice your sick face.

“babe? where are you?”

“livingroom” you shouted, taking your purse and putting it on your shoulder.

“how do i look?” you asked when gojo arrived in front of you, trying to look dignified and alert. “is this outfit okay? you said it was a formal event.”

“wow. you look really beautiful, love… except for, y’know, the red, puffy nose and the bags under your eyes and the sweat in your hair,” gojo said with a rueful smile, already slipping back out of their jacket. “we’re staying home tonight, aren’t we?”

“what? no, no, i’m fine! i can go, it’s not that bad-”

“sorry, let me rephrase- we’re staying home tonight. get back in your pj’s. we’ll have our own party with some blankets and chicken noodle soup.” your boyfriend interrupted you, taking your hands into his, and smiling at you.

“but gojo, your parents?”

“fuck them. there are going to be a lot of other parties at other times. now, do what i said, and let me order the soup. it looks like you need it.”

“really?” you asked unsure, looking at your nail polished nails.

“really.”

and so you gave gojo a little kiss on the cheek, ready to head out to your bathroom to wipe out the makeup. 

“i told you you're going to catch a cold”

“oh, shut the fuck up, satoru”

“he did not.” you laughed, looking at the tv in front of you.

the two of you were looking at an old horror movie, but you were finding it a little too funny for a horror one. you and gojo were on the couch, cuddling each other. you complained about how he could catch the cold too, but for him, he was too cool for a cold.

“me? a cold? you insult me, my beautiful girlfriend” was his response, throwing popcorn at you. 

as you sink into the plush cushions of the sofa, a soft glow emanates from the muted screen, casting a warm ambiance in the room. your partner, wrapped in a cozy blanket, nestles beside you, their presence a comforting embrace in the dim light. the room is adorned with the scent of chamomile tea and the flicker of a vanilla-scented candle, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. satoru, sensing the shivers that occasionally wrack your body, wraps you in an extra layer of warmth, the blanket becoming a cocoon of shared comfort.

‘what did i do to deserve this man?’ you found yourself asking.

a bowl of hot soup, prepared with love, sits on the coffee table, its steam rising in delicate tendrils. your boyfriend, attuned to every cough and sniffle, extends a spoonful towards you with a gentle smile, their eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and affection.

“come on, baby. eat as much as you want, today i will take care of you.”

the room may be dimly lit, but the connection between you two radiates a soft, intimate glow that transcends the limitations of the surroundings. wrapped in the warmth of blankets and love, you find solace in the simple act of being together, in the quiet dance of a shared movie night that speaks volumes without the need for words.

“i love you, satoru gojo.”

“i love your sick ass too, now eat all the soup and then we are going to bed, okay?”

“okay.”

© 2024 gr1mstar — all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

the took the image from pinterest - also i do not own jujutsu kaisen and this is simply my imagination.

[formula-nyoom]

Stars Racing Past-5

Summary: It has been 5 years since (Y/N) and Max's first mission together and the two have grown as Master and Padawan. Now back on Coruscant, an attempt on Senator Piquet's life has the two grappling with both feelings of the past and feelings of the present.

A/N: I forgot how much of a creep Anakin is in Attack of The Clones and I've been trying to write Max as not that. These next 4 chapters are based off of Episode 2 but are going to focus more on Max, (Y/N), and Kelly(Sorry Seb). Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Assassination Attempt, Loss of Limb

Series Masterlist

~5 Years Later~

There was a slight hum as the elevator rose through the Jedi Temple. (Y/N) looked out the window as she watched the Coruscant cityscape grow smaller and smaller as the elevator got higher and higher. She missed the sight of the Coruscant skyline. (Y/N) smiled as the ever familiar feeling of The Force hovered around her. The feeling of home. 

(Y/N) had learned much over the past five years and strengthened her connection with The Force. The lightsaber that hung from her hip was evident of the progress she had made. But despite all the training and lessons that Max had taught her in those five years, a long, singular braid hung off her shoulder. Max had been teaching well, but between the missions and the advice of The Council, (Y/N) still had a lot to learn.  

Max was glad to be back at The Temple. (Y/N) and Max had found themselves outside the temple more often than they would have liked, with the two getting sent on more and more missions to help combat the newest threat to the galaxy, following the peacekeeping duties of being a Jedi.

The Separatists had become a growing threat throughout the galaxy. With more and more systems wanting to leave The Republic, more conflict and unrest has spread throughout the galaxy, in turn spreading the Jedi thin.  

But right now, as the Jedi Knight and his padawan stood in the elevator, both were happy at the chance of returning home after being away on so many missions.

“You seem more excited to be back than I am?” (Y/N) said. 

“What makes you think that?” Max asked

“Maybe it’s the fact that you’ll be able to see Senator Piquet again.” Max didn’t respond but (Y/N) could see blush creeping up on Max’s face. Change hadn't just affected the galaxy’s politics. Senator Kelly Piquet had recently divorced her husband a couple months ago. The news of the divorce was spread like wildfire across Coruscant, even reaching the Jedi Temple. Some outlets tried to paint it as a very messy separation between the two adults, especially since Senator Piquet had given birth to a daughter in the years that Max and (Y/N) were gone, and the divorce left Senator Piquet to raise her one year old daughter alone. Max had tried to keep his expression neutral when he heard about the divorce. But part of him was happy when hearing the news. 

“How’s my hair? Does it look ok?” Max checked his reflection in the elevator’s window, trying to adjust his hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

 “Your hair looks fine. You should be more concerned about how much you’re sweating.” (Y/N) said. “I haven’t seen you sweat this much since our mission near Bespin.”

“Forgive me for being nervous but I feel I am allowed to be. I haven’t seen Senator Piquet in five years.”

 “Are you worried that she’ll still treat you like a teenage boy with a school yard crush?” (Y/N) asked. Max shrugged. 

 “C’mon, you’re both adults now, you can see each other as equals. There’s nothing to worry about.” (Y/N) said. And she was right. Part of Max expected his crush on Senator Piquet to go away in the span of five years since he had last seen her. But Max would be lying if he said he didn’t hold some excitement at the prospect of seeing her every time he came back to Coruscant. 

The elevator dinged before its doors opened, revealing the main floor of the Jedi temple. Jedis passing by greeted Max and (Y/N) as they exited the elevator and the two’s moods seemed to grow and grow as they walked through the place they called home.

 “(Y/N)! You’re back!” The girl looked over to see Oscar and Logan running over to her. (Y/N)’s smile widened as she ran and met the two boys halfway, wrapping them in a hug.

 “Oh it feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you two!” She said, pulling away to get a good look at her two friends. Both of them still had their padawan braids, as did (Y/N), but it was evident how much both Logan and Oscar had grown over the past couple years, with Logan towering just an inch over Oscar and Oscar’s hair had gotten a bit curly. 

“I was just telling Logan about this mission me and Master Norris were on. I kicked some major Separatists butt on Agmar.” Oscar said.

 “Oh (Y/N)! That reminds me, you still owe me a rematch from our last sparring session.” Logan said.

 “I’m all down to beat you again, Sargent. Hopefully you’ll get more of an upper hand from the last time we fought. I expect a challenge out of you.” (Y/N) told him. Oscar snickered and Logan couldn’t help but join in on his two friends' laughter.

Onwards Max watched with a smile as his padawan jovially chatted with her two friends. Though his attention was quickly drawn as a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“I’m glad to see the two of you made it back safely.” Seb said as he patted Max’s shoulder. 

 “It’s good to be back home.” Max told him. “Though when I got your message, it sounded kind of urgent. Is everything ok?” 

“It’s hard to tell for certain.” Seb said. “(Y/N)! Can I have a word with you?”

(Y/N) turned and at the sight of Seb her smile grew even bigger. Waving goodbye to Oscar and Logan with a promise to spar latter, (Y/N) walked over to Max and the Jedi Master.

 “It’s good to see you again Master Vettel.”

“And I’m glad to see you, young padawan. As much as I know the two of you would like some time to relax and unwind, unfortunately there isn’t time for that.” Seb said. “I’m just waiting for the arrival of–oh here she is now.”

 Blush returned to Max’s face as he saw Senator Piquet approach the three with two guards in tow. The years had been kind to the senator, as Max thought that she looked more beautiful since the last time he had seen her. To him, it was like looking at an angel.

“It's great to see you again, Senator.” Max said, bowing his head towards Senator Piquet. Senator Piquet smiled. 

 “Max? My goodness, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you.” Senator Piquet told him. A slight blush rose on Senator Piquet’s face. 

“Hi Senator Piquet!” (Y/N) said, offering her hand for the senator to shake.

 “Oh, (Y/N)! Look at you! You’ve gotten taller and almost resemble a Jedi Knight.”

 “Well, Max has been putting me through my paces but he’s been teaching me a great deal.”  (Y/N) said. Max smiled.

“What are you doing here at the temple?” Max asked Senator Piquet.

 “There was an attempt on Senator Piquet’s life.” Seb said. Max’s smile dropped.

“What?!!” Both Max and (Y/N) had said at the same time.

 “Who would try something like that?” Mas asked, anger present on his face. Senator Piquet sighed.

 “I suspect it was Count Marko.” Senator Piquet said.

“The leader of The Separatists…” Max said.

 “Why would he go after you?” (Y/N) asked.

“I assume it may have to do with the Senate’s notion to try and approve the creation of an army to help you Jedi fight The Separatists. A notion that I am opposed to.” Senator Piquet said.

“If you’re opposed to it, why would Count Marko try to kill you?” Max asked. “A question I had and that’s why I suspect it is not The Count behind this. Nevertheless, the attempt on Senator Piquet’s life made Chancellor Horner suggest that she be placed under the protection of The Jedi. The Council has chosen you two to be her protectors as all three of you are familiar with one another and you’ve protected the Senator before.” Seb said. Max looked at Seb confused.

 “But shouldn’t we be investigating who is trying to kill Senator Piquet? She has guards that can protect her. Surely our duty as a Jedi–”

“Your duty as a Jedi is to abide by what The Council has ordered you to do, Max. We’ve had this talk before.” Seb cut Max off, a serious look on his face. Senator Piquet turned to Max.

 “While I do want to find out who is trying to kill me, I’m sure your and (Y/N)’s presence is enough to try and lure out who exactly is behind this.” She said. (Y/N) turned to Seb.

 “I can assure you Seb that Max and I will follow our duties and protect Senator Piquet.” (Y/N) said, patting the lightsaber at her side.

 “I don’t doubt that. But I want to trust that you won’t let your feelings distract you from what The Council has asked you to do.” Seb said, side-eyeing Max. Max glanced at Senator Piquet before making eye contact with Seb.

 “Master Vettel, I promise you that me and (Y/N) will focus our duties on protecting Senator Piquet.”

 “I don’t doubt it. Now go collect your things.” Seb said, dismissing the two. (Y/N) and Max gave a nod to Seb and Senator Piquet before leaving to go get their belongings.

 “I don’t know if she was happy to see me.” Max said as they walked away. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“You obviously didn’t see the smile on her face when she saw you.” She said. A small smile formed on Max’s face.

~~~

Max stared out the glass window as he listened to the silence that filled the living room of Senator Piquet’s apartment. The Council had decided that in terms of protecting Senator Piquet, Max and (Y/N) were to accompany her everywhere. And with an upcoming Senate vote, Senator Piquet would be staying at her apartment on Coruscant, with Max and (Y/N) supposed to be standing guard outside her door. 

A ding rang out and Max turned to see (Y/N) stepping out of the apartment’s elevator.

“Seb’s downstairs talking with the other guards. There’s plenty down stairs to where I don’t think an assassin would try anything through there.” (Y/N) said. “How’s up here?”

 “All quiet. Nothing so far.” Max said. “I don’t like this. Standing around. Waiting for something to happen to her.”

“We were given orders by The Council to protect Senator Piquet. This is what protecting her looks like.” (Y/N) said. “Seb told me that our presence alone should be enough to hopefully deter any attempt on Senator Piquet’s life.” 

“But don’t you agree that it’s more important to catch whoever is trying to kill her…” Max said. (Y/N) looked at Max, and then took in the fact that he wasn’t standing directly by the bedroom door. Something clicked.

 “You’re using her as bait?” (Y/N) asked.

“It was her idea.” Max said. (Y/N) looked at the closed door of Senator Piquet’s bedroom.

 “There are many different ways to try and kill a Senator.” (Y/N) quietly said. “If our job is to protect her, I don't think she's safe being behind closed doors.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be able to sense if anything disturbs her while she’s behind that door.” Max said. “Trust me.”

(Y/N) held her tongue at the multiple comments she could make and continued to stare at the door. She closed her eyes and tried to sense any form of disturbance with The Force, but she couldn’t sense anything, not even a potential tossing in bed from Senator Piquet. She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

 “You look tired.” Max said, looking at his padawan, who turned to look at him. “Is it the dream again?”

(Y/N) looked down at the floor and nodded her head.

 “I don’t know why I keep dreaming about what happened to me before Tatoonie,”(Y/N) said. “I thought I had been able to block it out of my mind completely. But every time I close my eyes to go to sleep…I see his face.”

 “Dreams eventually pass. I’m sure now that we’re back on Coruscant, your mind will focus on more positive things and that slave trader will leave your mind.” Max told her. (Y/N) gave Max a smirk.

 “I’m sure your mind has plenty of positive things to think about while we’re here.” She teased. Max sighed.

 “Now is not the time to discuss this. We’re here on a mission. It would be inappropriate to talk about my feelings regarding The Senator-”

Max felt a disturbance in The Force and his head immediately snapped to Senator Piquet’s bedroom door. (Y/N)’s did as well.

 “I felt it too.” She said. Without hesitating, both of them ran towards Senator Piquet’s bedroom. Opening the door, they saw two centipede-like insects crawling towards the Senator’s head. Max immediately ignited his lightsaber. Blue light filled the room as Max ran forward and sliced the insects in two. Senator Piquet woke up with a start and saw Max standing over her.

 “What’s going on?” She asked. But Max’s attention had been drawn to the bedroom window. (Y/N) followed his eyeline and saw a spherical droid hovering on the other side of the glass. Without thinking, Max ran and dove towards the window, glass shattering on impact as he grabbed on to the retreating droid that was speeding off into the cityscape. (Y/N) mentally cursed Max and his impulsiveness.

 “Are you hurt at all Senator Piquet?” She asked, going over and checking Senator Piquet for any injuries.

 “No.” Senator Piquet said.

“Good. Stay here.”(Y/N) told her before running out of the room and right into Seb, who was running in with guards.

“What happened?” 

 “Something tried to attack the senator! Max jumped out the window to chase after it.” (Y/N) quickly told him before running towards the elevator.

“He–what?” Seb ran after (Y/N) and joined her just as the elevator door was closing. The elevator took her and Seb up to the roof, where various speeders were parked. (Y/N) jumped into the driver's seat of one of them.

 “I don’t suppose you have the keys to that speeder?” Seb asked. (Y/N) ignored him, opening a panel and igniting her lightsaber. She used it to carefully cut some wires and the speeder roared to life. Seb looked at the girl with a bit of shock as he climbed into the passenger seat.

 “I hope Max didn’t teach you that.” He said.

“You learn a lot when you grow up on Tatoonie.”(Y/N) said before backing out of the spot the speeder was parked and then speeding out into the cityscape sky to try and find Max. 

In the sky, Max held onto the droid with a steel grip as it flew past various speeders and ships in the opposite direction of traffic. Max couldn’t help but look down and clutched the droid tighter as he was met with a view he definitely didn’t want to end up plummeting down towards. He quickly looked up and tried to get a grip of his rapidly changing surroundings as the droid continued to zoom past various skyscrapers. Max could tell that it was heading in a certain direction and his eyes landed on a skyscraper. On the balcony of said skyscraper stood a partially masked woman. The woman spotted the droid, and then Max hanging from it. The woman quickly ran over to the ship next to her and pulled out a sniper rifle, aiming at the drone. The assassin fired at the droid,  causing it to explode and Max started to plummet downwards. 

(Y/N) and Seb were rapidly scanning the skyline, looking for any sign of Max as (Y/N) drove. (Y/N) eyes quickly landed on something falling through the sky and quickly realized that it was Max. She slammed her foot hard on the pedal and sped towards him while also bringing the steering downwards, sending the speeder into a nosedive. Thankfully, the speeder was much faster than Max’s falling speed and (Y/N) managed to position the speeder underneath for Max to be able to catch it and land in the backseat. 

 “What took you so long?” He asked, trying to catch his breath.

 “Oh, you know me, I couldn’t find a speeder I liked. Was thinking of grabbing the SF21, but then I saw this RB18 and knew I had to take this one.” (Y/N) said.

 “If you spent more time practicing your saber skills than you do your wit, your skills would rival Master Alonsos.” Seb said while clutching the side of the speeder tightly.

 “There he is.” Max pointed to a ship that was currently speeding away. (Y/N) pressed her foot to the pedal and tried to follow the ship Max had pointed out. It weaved in and out of oncoming traffic before nose diving towards the ground city below. (Y/N) followed its every move and quickly sent her own cruiser into a nose dive to follow. Max and Seb held onto their seats very tightly as they felt like their stomachs were dropping out from under them. Wind whipped past their faces making it almost hard to see but (Y/N) kept her eyes on the ship as it quickly swerved towards and then underneath an incoming freighter ship. (Y/N) pulled the speeder up just in time before it could make contact with the freighter and speed back into the air.

 “Please don’t do that again!” Seb exclaimed as (Y/N) continued driving flat out.

“Sorry Seb. I forgot you don’t like flying.” She said.

 “I don’t mind flying. What you’re doing is suicide.” Seb told her before turning to Max “I’d hope that you hadn’t taught her to fly like you do.”

 “What did you expect? I am her teacher after all.” Max said before lurching forward as (Y/N) increased the speed, having again found the ship that they were chasing.

(Y/N) was quickly gaining on the ship as the distance between the two grew smaller and smaller. She saw that they were approaching a docking station on one of the lower levels of Coruscant and had an idea.

 “Hold on.” She told Max and Seb before ramming the front of her cruiser into the back of the ship. The ship jerked and began to spin before crashing into the docking station. (Y/N) was quick to land the speeder but the assassin was already out of the ship before Seb or Max could jump out. Nonetheless the two quickly took off to pursue the assassin as they started to run with (Y/N) not far behind them. 

The four were weaving and dodging various people as they ran past. The assassin would take tight corners, trying to throw the jedis off their trail before eventually running into one of the various clubs around. (Y/N) was about to run in, but Max grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Wait! This is a club. You need to wait outside.” He said. Frustration rose on (Y/N)’s face

“Seriously? We don't have time for this! And I'm a Jedi here on Jedi business. I should be allowed in.”

“No, Max is right. Stay out here and stop anyone that seems to rush out.” Seb said. “The assassin went in there to hide, not run. Max and I will chase them out.”

(Y/N) let out a huff in frustration but didn’t follow Max and Seb inside. 

“We really need to have a talk about your recklessness when we get back to the temple.” Seb said as he and Max walked into the club. “It’s rubbed off on (Y/N) and I can’t help but feel you two are going to be the death of me.”

The two scanned their eyes across the club, looking for any potential shady figures. 

 “Do you see them?” Seb asked.

“No. From what I was able to see of the assassin, we’re looking for a masked woman. ” Max told him. Seb nodded.

 “Alright. Go and find them.” Seb said before making his way towards the bar.

“Where are you going?” Max asked.

 “To get a drink.” Seb said with a pointed look before continuing to the bar.

Max slowly started to walk the perimeter of the club, trying to spot the assassin they had been chasing. Various patrons of the club gave Max curious glances as he walked passed, his hand hovering over his lightsaber, ready to catch the assassin off guard once he came across her. But so far, Max couldn’t see the masked woman anywhere in the crowded club.

Seb casually sipped his drink while his eyes swept over the club scene in front of him

Behind You!

Seb quickly turned around and swung his now ignited lightsaber. The woman in front of him let out a scream as both her gun and the arm holding it fell to the floor.

Everyone’s attention in the club was now on Seb. Seb kicked the gun away and put away his lightsaber as Max walked over.

 “Jedi business. Go back to your drinks.” Max said to the patrons before helping Seb bring the assassin to her feet and escort her out of the club.

(Y/N) had paced in front of the club entrance, keeping an eye on anyone that left. Though she didn’t know exactly who she was looking for since Max got a better glimpse of the assassin. And even though (Y/N) knew they were in the club, she couldn’t help but feel like she herself was being watched. 

But Seb and Max walked out of the club, holding a woman with just one arm, and that feeling went away. She followed Seb and Max as they brought the woman around to the side of the club, away from any onlookers and pedestrians. They sat her up against a wall.

“Do you know who you were trying to kill?” Seb asked the woman.

 “Some Senator from Naboo.” The assassin grunted, pain clearly evident on her face.

“Why were you trying to kill her?” (Y/N) asked.

 “It was just a job.”

“Who hired you? Tell us.” Max demanded. Seb glanced at Max and saw anger very present on his face.

 “Tell us now!” Max demanded again. The assassin let out a grunt

“It was a bounty hunter called–” A dart suddenly struck the assassin in the next. All three Jedi turned in the direction of where the dart came from and saw a figure standing on a roof before taking off using a jetpack.

Seb turned back to the assassin as she started to gag. Her eyes bulged as she struggled to breathe before she choked out a final breath and her eyes closed. She was dead. (Y/N) looked at the now deceased assassin with worry as Seb carefully plucked the dart out and examined it.

 “Toxic dart.” He said. 

“The assassin wasn’t the real one trying to kill Senator Piquet.” (Y/N) said.

 “Whoever is trying to kill Senator Piquet, is going to great lengths to make sure we don’t find out.” Max said.

~~

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