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obsidianbaby · 6 months ago

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FUCKING BROWNIES

synopsis - you've been good friends with the triplets for the past few years and are visiting them in LA. You and the guys decide you want to bake some brownies but you're missing some key ingredients, Matt and Nick go out to pick them up leaving you and Chris alone.

warnings & notes - dom! chris x reader, oral (fem receiving), choking and a lil bit rough, angst, slight degradation, overstimulation, praise (let me know if I've missed something)

a/n - this is my first time writing smut in fucking yearssssss so pls be kind<3 also tried my best not to use y/n cause i hate that shit okok enjoy mwah

- I also despise writing dialogue so bare with me

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"alright be back soon!!" Nick shouts as him and Matt walk down the stairs to the garage door.

Chris and I stand alone in the kitchen now, Chris hovering over the mixing bowl at the counter, his back to me, and me sitting at the table reading the back of the brownie mix box.

"Don't know why you guys decided to buy brownie mix that requires so many ingredients you don't have" I say putting the box down and sighing.

"Dude I think you can wait like 20 minutes for them to get back" Chris says laughing turning around to face me.

"Mmmm yeah but then we have to wait for them to bake so really it's going to be closer to an hour" I say back jokingly looking up at Chris who's now leaning with both hands across the table in front of me.

"Damn a whole hour, are you gonna parish before then?" He says sarcastically squishing my cheeks with his hand. I playfully swat his hand away and stick my tongue out at him.

"Yeah actually I might," I say while pushing my chair out getting ready to stand up, "I might just need a quick taste test..." I say as I stand up to begin my journey to the mixing bowl on the counter.

Just as I make my way around the table Chris moves to stand in front of me placing his hands on my shoulders to stop me in place.

"Uh uh uh no way I'm letting you stick your grimy little fingers in the brownie mix" he says shaking his head at me.

"Hmm seems like a challenge" I say daringly before darting around the other side of the table towards the mixing bowl.

"For fucks sake" he says sprinting after me. He pulls my wrist and yanks me towards him just as I stick my fingers into the bowl.

"Hahahaha too late bitch" I say pleased with the chocolate brownie mix spread all over my fingers. He watches me intently as I begin to lick the mix off of my fingers. I close my eyes with delight, "yummmm you should have some" I say as I pick up the bowl and shove it in his direction.

"Yeah okay" he says hesitantly as he dips a couple fingers into the bowl and licks some of the mix off while looking at me. "Mmmm" he walks over to grab some paper towel but I interrupt him.

"Wait what are you doing?"

"Wiping my hands off??" He looks at me puzzled.

"Noooo you can't waist that shit" I say as I grab his wrist and bring his fingers to my mouth. I begin to lick and suck on his fingers, swirling my tongue around them trying to savor every last drop of the brownie mix. Chris stares at me intensely, his pupils dilating with desire as he bites his bottom lip.

After I think I've gotten all the mix off I take out his fingers from my mouth slowly. I look down at the tent growing in his gray sweats in front of me.

"Shit... Sorry" I say smiling shyly as I slowly release my grip on his wrist, knowing that this is crossing the normal boundaries of our friendship.

He looks down at his growing hardness and back into my eyes, licking his lips. "No you're not"

"Yeah you're right I'm not" I say smirking at up at him. Fuck me it'd be a lie to say I didn't want him to take me right then and there having been attracted to him since we met.

"Hmmm" chris ponders for a second as he looks my body up and down. The wetness my legs starting to soak through my panties.

"What...?" I ask looking at him with a raised brow trying to hide my growing smirk.

"I don't think you got all the mix off so I think you'll have to try again" he says bringing his fingers back up towards my mouth, grazing his thumb over my lips for permission and I gladly part my lips open and he slips his two fingers back in my mouth.

I stare up at him as he slowly guides his fingers pumping them in and out of my mouth, my tongue swirling around them. He watches me licking his lips in satisfaction. I grab his hand and force his fingers as far as I can down my throat causing me to gag, saliva dripping down my chin.

Chris lets out a groan, "oh fuck" he says as I continue to guide his fingers down my throat, choking on his digits.

I then take them out of my mouth and inspect them "yep they look clean to me, here you are" I say smirking as I push his hand back towards him gently, enjoying the sexual frustration growing in Chris's pants, hoping he takes the bait of my seduction.

"I don't think im done though" he says stepping forward, closing the gap completely between us, his hard cock poking me through his pants. My thighs clentch at the heat growing between my legs.

"Oh?" I say sensually, tilting my head at him.

"Yeah see, you got a taste but I don't think I'm finished with mine yet" he says, firmly grabbing onto my jawline tilting my head to the side exposing my neck.

"But you haven't got anymore brownie mix to-" I begin but I gasp mid sentence as Chris's lips attach to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin. He picks me up by the waist and places me on the counter top, his legs spreading mine open for him to stand in-between.

With his hands firmly holding onto my waist he continues to kiss down my neck and across my collar bone before lifting his head up at me smiling cheekily. I grab his face with my two hands guiding his lips to mine needing to know what it feels like to kiss him.

We start moving our lips together at a lightning pace, his tongue grazing over mine asking to be let in and I immediately grant him access, our tongues fighting for dominance.

I stop the kiss by biting and sucking on his bottom lip which causes him to let out a husky moan. I smile with satisfaction at this, which causes Chris to shake his head as he places his hand around my neck squeezing firmly, causing me to let out a moan.

He then smiles with pride from my escaped moan and I roll my eyes at him. He uses his grip on my neck to push my head back a little forcefully against the cabinet and I moan again.

"Hmm didn't think you were the type to like it rough" he says smirking devilishly at me, his eyes almost black with desire.

The arousal dripping through my panties has me needing to clentch my thighs together but they're being held open by his waist. He instantly looks down at my legs tightening around his waist and he places another quick sloppy kiss to my lips before moving his hands onto my bare thighs, slowly guiding his hands further and further up and under my shorts until they sit resting at my pantie line, his fingers trailing teasingly under the hem. He looks up at me for permission and I nod instantly at him.

With this he slips one of his hands under my panties and runs a finger up and down my slick, swirling his fingers in my wetness, his other hand gripping tightly around my thigh and I gasp.

Staring hungrily into my eyes, he lifts his hand from my thigh to my neck and roughly choke slams my head against the cabinets as he plunges two fingers into my hole and begins to pump them. My body jolts from the sudden tightness in my core and a few moans escape my mouth, "Oh fuck chris"

"Fuck you're so wet already, sucking my fingers really got you off huh? Fucking slut" he spits as he curls his fingers up hitting my sweet spot with every pump, his other hand wrapped around my neck.

My legs start to shake and my breathing intensifies, the knot that's been building dramatically since I sucked on his fingers moments ago aching in my stomach begging to be released.

"Fuck chris I'm getting close i" at those words he retracts his fingers from my cunt and brings them to his mouth, his one hand still gripping my neck as he stares at me while slowly licking my arousal until his fingers are clean.

My walls ache from the emptiness craving the need to tighten around something. "Fuck chris please" I beg trying to grab his hand to guide it back to my slick where I need him but he swats my hand away.

"You taste so fucking good" he says with a devilish smile, pushing my head back against the cabinets.

"Fuck chris please continue I was so close" I whine through suppressed breathes, pulling a face at him and he just smiles at my neediness.

"I don't think this was enough to satisfy me though" he says as he waves his two fingers that he just licked clean in front of my face before releasing the hold on my neck and gripping my thighs with his hands. He aggressively digs his hands into my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the counter. He kneels down in front of me placing my legs over his shoulders and I bite my lip in anticipation.

He kisses the inside of my thighs teasingly, slowly moving his soft lips closer to my clothed heat. He places a gentle kiss over my clothed wetness before shifting my panties to the side exposing my cunt to the cool kitchen air causing me to gasp. He stares up at me as he licks a line from my hole up to my clit before pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Fuck chris please" I beg, bucking my hips up to try and create friction against his face but he holds my legs firmly in place.

"Please what? Use your words sweetheart"

"Fuck please Chris I need you I need your mouth on me"

"Good girl" he smirks as he places his lips around my clit and begins to suck. He snakes his hand around my leg and puts his fingers in me, curling them up into my spongy walls.

I instinctively buck my hips against his face starting to grind against his fingers inside me and he lets out a gutteral moan causing his mouth to vibrate around my throbbing clit sending waves of pleasure throughout my body.

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue and starts to draw tight circles around my clit with his thumb and I moan, gripping his hair to help guide his tongue further inside me.

"Fuck you're so fucking good for me" he says against my slick before diving his tongue back inside.

The knot in my stomach snaps and my legs shake around his shoulders as he continues to tongue fuck me through my high. He retracts his tongue from my slick once my walls stop convulsing around his tongue and he wipes my waves of arousal off his face on his hoodie sleeve.

He helps me move my legs from his shoulders and he stands up bringing his lips back to mine once again so I can taste the mess I made all over his tongue.

Our lips moving against each other instinctively, tongues swirling around, teeth clashing. And he continues to rub my clit gently with his thumb, the overstimulation burning causing me to moan loudly in his mouth.

"Fuck chris too much" I say between moans as I try to continue to kiss him through the pressure that starts to rebuild in my stomach.

But the moment gets interrupted by the sound of the garage door shutting downstairs. We both look at each other eyes wide in shock.

"Fuck" we both say in unison as I stumble off of the counter and Chris tucks his rock hard dick up in the waistband of his sweats.

We both eradically pace around the kitchen trying to find something to do that looks normal as Matt and nicks voices get closer and closer by the second.

I quickly hop into the chair I was sitting in when they left fixing my underwear and shorts as best I can and Chris stands awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen trying to shake out his messed up hair as Nick and Matt turn the corner and continue their walk into the kitchen.

Matt places the grocery bags on the counter and him and Nick continue their conversation, oblivious to the sexual tension flooding the air.

Suddenly they stop and hesitate as they both shoot questioning glances between me and Chris.

"Everything okay in here?" Matt asks looking directly at me as he starts to unload the items from the grocery bag onto the counter.

"Yeah what's with the awkward silence, usually you two don't ever shut the fuck up." Nick adds as he picks up the brownie box to double check the instructions before heating up the oven.

Chris and I look at each other and smile in unison, our ridiculous laughs breaking the awkward tension.

"Yeah yeah we're good" Chris says patting Nick on the back.

I stand up to help Matt with the missing brownie ingredients, "yeah it's all good guys let's make some fucking brownies" I say picking up the eggs.

MATT'S POV

Nick and I park in the garage and as I'm grabbing the bags from the back seat I can hear muffled moans coming from inside. I snap my attention to Nick standing in front of the car to see if he heard what I did but he's still yapping about the sweet cashier from cvs who checked us out.

Nick opens the door and I make a note to close it as hard as I can so they know we've made it back home, hopefully interrupting whatever it is they've gotten up to while we've been gone.

Nick shoots me a questioning look, "okay calm down what did the door do to you?" He jokes poking at my clear annoyance which for nicks sake, doesn't know the direct source, that being Chris hooking up with our best friend.

We make our way up the stairs and as soon as we turn the corner into the kitchen the smell of her arousal fills my nose and I inhale deeply trying to take it what I can, my mouth beginning to water.

I place the bags gently on the counter and start to unload the items trying hard to focus on my conversation with Nick and not the annoying smirk that paints Chris's face, the glow of her arousal still shimmering over his lips. Fuck.

Nick sensing my annoyance and the awkward silence between my brother and best friend, stops mid sentence and shoots me a questioning glare which I return with my own glare and shrug my shoulders, turning my attention to my best friend sitting awkwardly at the table.

"Everything okay in here?" I ask staring intensely into her eyes as I continue to empty the items from the bags. She looks back at me and her cheeks instantly flush before breaking our stare and looking towards Chris.

Nick adds, "Yeah what's with the awkward silence, usually you two don't ever shut the fuck up." I chuckle to myself as I watch him turn the oven on.

I noticed her and Chris exchange a knowing glance before they burst out laughing. I grit my teeth at their reaction, Chris annoyingly saying "yeah yeah we're good" patting Nick on the back and thankfully it's Nick who stands closer to him cause i would have swung on him right then and there for sticking his face between the legs of my girl.

She gets up and walks over to me a smile planted on her perfect and fucked out face. She stands beside me the heat of her body pressing against my side as she helps me gather the ingredients.

"Yeah it's all good guys let's make some fucking brownies" she says as she picks up the egg carton. I let out a heavy sigh and she shoots me a quick side glance with a raised brow. I decide to suffocate my jealousy with a hard swallow and smile back at her.

As we start mixing the missing ingredients in all I can think about is how much I regret wanting these fucking brownies.

a/n - let me know what ya guys thinkkkkkk <3

updated a/n - part 2 posted below MWAH xx

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

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keij0h · 4 months ago

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⌗ COME RIGHT BACK ┆ jeonghan

After a tiring session of working, your boyfriend is more than willing to ease you down, in a very certain way.

CAUTION : profanities. smut warning. afab reader. oral f receiving. self indulgent.

tap to listen !

02:14

Your eyes threatened to shut as you glanced at the time, blowing a sigh before slumping deeper into your chair. The silence was sickening, along with the pile of paperwork placed shabbily on your table that hadn't been untouched since the last few hours.

A small thud sound echoed as you laid your head down the table surface, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Delays aren't really your thing, hence the desiring need to finish everything in one go. Though with your drowsy state, that seemed like the toughest thing to do, considering you put yourself in this whole loop anyway.

Though perhaps you were a bit too weary to even hear the door behind you creaking open. A shiver ran up your spine as you suddenly felt your shoulders being grabbed gently, making you perk up at the sudden warmth.

“Hannie?” you groggily called out, barely making out the familiar figure of your boyfriend behind you through half lidded eyes.

“Yeah, lovey?” he hummed with a vague smile, swiftly turning your swivel chair around to face him as he kneeled down, gently placing both his hands on your face to get a good look at your exhausted state.

He examined you with so much intent, his lashes subtly fluttering as he shifted from your eyes to your lips, leaning in to place a quick peck on them. “You can't sleep here, you'll hurt your back.”

A tired smile crept up your mouth, fighting the urge to yawn. “I have to finish this though. Just go to bed without me, I'll be done soon.”

“You know I can't sleep without you,” Jeonghan argued, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “Missed you.”

It wasn't all the time where you'd see him be this desperate, though you also kept in mind that he wasn't one to hold back with what he wanted. And besides, there was no way he was letting the love of his love spend the whole night slouched on the table.

“I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway,” you breathed out a chuckle, letting your fingers fondle around his hair as he littered soft kisses in your jaw.

“Then I'll give you company..” he mumbled through your neck, not missing the way his voice lowered deftly as you exhaled — a slight idea on where this could be going.

“Baby, I'm tired─”

“Which gives me enough reason to take care of you.” he interrupts, lifting his head to face you again, his hooded eyes showing that hint of lust as you nipped on your lip.

“Please, baby?” he pleaded softly, running a hand through your exposed thighs, his thumb playing with the fabric of your shorts. “You trust me, right?”

“With my whole life.” you added firmly, nodding in emphasization. The sides of Jeonghan’s mouth tugging into a smile, taking it as a clear answer to get started.

“Just relax, alright?” he mumbled while placing a kiss on your temple, gently pushing you back to let you lean further in your seat as he remained in his kneeling position. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You softly flinched as you felt his hand slightly lift your thigh, leaning down to place chaste kisses on the soft flesh as he reached up to pull down on your silk shorts until it reached the heel of your foot, letting it fall on the floor.

Your breath heaved in anticipation, watching as he busied himself between your legs, taking his delicate time on placing open-mouth kisses in your inner thighs, the heat on your core intensifying.

Your hand found its way on the top of his head, biting back a mewl as the pad of his fingers caressed your clothed; damp pussy, gently dragging in circles, making you squirm under his touch.

“Han..” you sigh out, an amused glint present in Jeonghan’s eyes as he swirled his fingers around, his free hand tugging down on the material of your panties, pulling it off in one go.

“Always so pretty for me.” he coos, taking in the sight of your glistening cunt. You sucked in a breath as you felt his thumb drag over your folds, tenderly spreading it with his ring and middle finger before leaning down to run his tongue right in the middle.

“Shit.” you whined, subconsciously grinding your hips up for more friction, Jeonghan’s grip getting firm to steady you as his tongue pushed a bit further in you. “Oh— fuck, yes..”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of a similar shaky sensation in you. You watched through half lidded eyes as he lapped you up. He looked so pretty. Your legs were over his shoulders while his eyes were closed, leaving his mouth agape and tongue out, the sloppy; wet sounds adding more to the lasciviousness of the sight.

“S-so good.” you managed to stutter out, his wet muscle flicking against your clit, forcefully pushing his head down, your lewd juices now starting to drip down to his chin. “More, baby, please..”

All the tense agony you had earlier had now seemingly disappeared, now replaced with a feeling of bliss as all you could muster are soft moans and whines of his name.

“I.. y-you’re gonna─”

“Mhm? ‘m gonna make you cum?” he panted, rubbing his fingers rapidly over your bundle of nerves as you cried out, his hot breath making you perk up. “Right on my face, lovey.”

“Oh, god—”

Your eyes rolled back in delight, simultaneously pulling on the strands of Jeonghan’s hair, earning a groan from him. “Just like that.. ah, fuck.”

You could barely hear the small babbles you gave, finding it hard to even open your eyes as his tongue did wonders, making you feel so full despite clenching at nothing. He indeed kept his word, he’d make you feel so good.

“Han— shit, ‘m so close.” you practically begged, almost suffocating him between your thighs as you got closer and closer to your release.

Another hum emitted from him, that being your last straw as he picked up the pace of his tongue, shuddering as you moaned out, the knot on your stomach faltering while you released right on his mouth. With the amount of pleasure, you barely noticed Jeonghan lapping everything up, leaving nothing but the glistening sight of your swollen clit.

“God, I love you..” you breathlessly say, almost incoherently as you throw your head back, earning a soft chuckle from Jeonghan. He stood up from his kneeling position, wiping the excess liquids on his chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you, wasting no time in pressing a deep kiss over your lips.

It was all the truth though. You love him, and this whole image taking place was a great explanation on why. He can be a little shit at times, but honestly, he’d do everything for the sake of your pleasure. And you were in no place to complain.

“Baby,” you pull away, laughing. “I can literally taste myself.”

Meanwhile, a smirk went up to his face, not missing the way he bit his bottom lip — that was still a bit swollen from all the meddling he did.

“Uhuh?” he hummed, kissing the corner of your lips. “Heavenly, right?”

a/n : I’m feeling major homesickness rn so I just needed the excuse to write the comfort I need as of now 👊🏻 hope this does the same to whoever’s reading. <3

and apparently, I’ve reached 1k+ likes?? that’s insane and thank you thank you thank YOUUU to everyone who helped me gain that. 😽

#— kira’s !#jeonghan x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt fluff #cigarettes after sex

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lvstrucks · 4 months ago

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i still miss the smoke

lando norris x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact!)

You hadn’t returned to the bar in months. Since breaking up with Lando you’d avoided it like the plague, knowing how that one bar had been such a staple in your relationship. The two of you had spent countless nights in the hazy atmosphere, drinking pints either with a group of mutual friends or just the two of you. It was the first place Lando had told you he loved you a few years ago, reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in close to whisper those three words.

Now, it mocked you each time you had to walk past. The location app on your phone clearly still hadn’t got the message about the breakup, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your stomach each time you saw Lando’s little green location dot hovering there. Did he not miss you at all? Was he not reminded of you; your scent, your hair, your real laugh when you’d tip your head all the way back each time he stepped in through the doors and sat at your regular table, that one seat left barren since you’d left him?

After the breakup, you’d distanced yourself from the friend group. You’d told yourself the only way to move on was to start a completely clean slate, but it clearly hadn’t worked. The only outcome seemed now you had no one to ask for updates on how Lando was doing, only that glowing green dot. Was he out having a good time, or was he waiting for you there? As you slipped on a black dress and swiped lipstick on, you realized there was only one way to find out.

Lando stared down into the bottom of his glass, watching the way the amber liquid swirled endlessly with his gentle movement. He tried to force a smile, crack a joke, but his efforts fell flat as he caught a glance of the perpetually empty seat next to him.

“Uh, Lando.” coughed a friend from across the table.

Lando looked up, startled from his thoughts. He gave the friend a quizzical look, following his line of sight and his heart caught in his chest as he saw you walking in. You were all alone, looking slightly unsure of your surroundings. Lando swallowed thickly, watching intently as you chattered lightly to the bartender, ordering your drink. When it was handed to you and you brought it to your lips, another friend from Lando’s table decided to take the initiative and called you over, gesturing to your usual seat.

“Hey, guys.” you said quietly, setting down your drink and uncertainly sitting down next to Lando.

You were met with a chorus of hello and how are you? from your old friends. It was slightly awkward, but the air felt charged with a static hope.

As you caught up with the group, Lando kept quiet, looking down at the table. The only acknowledgement of you he allowed himself was letting his knee knock gently sideways, resting against yours and he had to focus on breathing manually as he felt the electric charge running from your leg to his.

“Lando?” you say quietly while your friends are busy chatting amongst themselves. “Can we- Can I talk to you? Alone?”

Lando forces himself to swallow his excitement, determined not to get his hopes up. He nods, standing quickly from the table and leading you outside. He leans against the brick wall outside the bar, the moon and streetlights illuminating the slight frizz on top of his unruly curls.

“Yeah?” he speaks up finally.

You blink for a moment, taking in his features.

“I miss you.” you say simply.

Lando looks up at you faster than he should have.

“Yeah?” he repeats himself dumbly.

“Yeah.” you nod. Lando simply looks at you, so you decide you might have to take initiative. It’s only fair really: you were the one who ended it - you would have to be the one to take the lead now.

“Do you miss me? Just a little bit?” you ask, taking his hand gently.

He doesn’t pull away, just nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he says, a third time. “More than a little bit.” He seems to break out of his trance at his own admission, taking a step closer and wrapping his strong arms around you. All you can do is mirror his actions, burying your face in his shoulder and breathing in the scent of him. He feels like coming home.

Lando squeezes you tighter, throwing caution to the wind with the feeling of having you back in his arms.

“Wanna come back to mine?” he asks, grinning a big toothy grin that no one has seen in months when you nod and tuck yourself into his side.

Lando doesn’t take his hands off you once as you enter his dark apartment. He doesn’t even bother letting go to switch on the lights, just leading you through the hallway to his bedroom. You don’t mind at all. You’re sure you could find your way around his apartment with your eyes closed still.

He lays you down on the bed gently, leaning over you and playing with a strand of your loose hair. When he kisses you again, it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt.

“Gotta tell me what you want, pretty.” he murmurs while kissing down the column of your throat.

“You, Lan. I want you.” you all but cry out. Lando’s stomach tightens at the nickname. God, he’d missed that.

He pulls of his shirt and unbuckles his pants while you wriggle out of your dress. There’s no time for formalities.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, yeah?” Lando assures you as he scooches down the beg, tracing lines on your thighs as he kisses your legs open. He breathes deeply at the sight of you, trying desperately to control himself.

“So so pretty.” he mumbles into you as he presses kisses to your folds. “All for me.”

Lando looks up, watching your face carefully for any signs of discomfort as he slips one finger into you, just up to his first knuckle. You whine, arching your back slightly in search of more. He pushes his finger into you fully, pulling it out slightly before pushing in another as well.

“You like, baby?” he hums, breaking the intense eye contact as he lowers his mouth over you. Gently brushing over your clit, he giggles as you throw your head back, the sensation unbearably good. He presses his open mouth onto your clit, beginning to lick and suck while he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“Lan, baby,” you gasp, one hand coming down to grab onto the back of his head to ground yourself. Your fingers brush against the fade at the back of his head, reaching only stubble and feeling his neck flex as he works on you. “I’m so close..”

Lando hums into your clit, not stopping for a second as he mumbles reassurances. “I got you baby.”

You turn your head, sighing into the pillow as you come undone over his face. He chuckles as he pulls out his fingers once you’ve stillled.

“That any good for you, babygirl?” he asks cheekily, licking off his fingers.

All you can do is giggle breathlessly as he scooches himself up the bed, high enough to sit back on his heels and line himself up with your clenching entrance.

He sighs in relief as he presses into you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as your bodies meld together.

“Ow,” you whisper at the stretch. “I forgot..I forgot how big you were.” Lando immediately stills, reaching to give your hand a squeeze as you get used to the burn.

“‘M sorry baby,” he whispers as he presses kisses to your chin, watching with concern at the pain on your face.

“‘s it ok for me to move now?” he asks as your face relaxes and you nod, tapping at his lower back to spur him on.

“Please.” you breathe.

Lando snaps his hips into yours, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder, a place he’s missed dearly. You wrap your legs around his hips, wanting him impossibly closer as he rocks you into the plush bedsheets.

“You’re so warm and wet for me,” Lando gasps. “I won’t last long.” “That’s ok,” you encourage him, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head.

Lando groans and pushes himself up onto his knees as he lifts your legs up, throwing them on each shoulder as he leans down closer to you again, and the new angle is so good you don’t even mind being practically folded in half.

“You gonna come for me again?” he asks, face screwing up into an expression you know all too well. He brings one hand between your bodies to press on your clit while the other still grips onto your hand for dear life.

“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach tighten and your toes begin to curl.

“Lando-” you try to warn him, but he’s already grunting and biting his lower lip, forehead resting on yours.

“Fuck- I love- I love you” he cries out accidentally as his hips stutter into the back of your thighs, filling you quickly.

The room is filled by a comfortable silence, broken only by the pants and deep breaths of both you and Lando as you come back down. He lays behind you, stroking a pattern into your hip as he nuzzles into your neck, on the brink of sleep. You know you’ve only got a minute or two before he’s asleep, but you can’t help but open the can of worms.

“Do you?”

Lando hums into your ear, not understanding your question.

“Do you still love me?” you question. “Can you still?”

Lando barely hesitates before he nods, glad his blushing cheeks are hidden behind your hair.

“Yeah.” he confirms. “I do. I couldn’t- I can’t stop.”

You turn in his arms, bringing one hand to stroke his burning cheek.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper quietly. “I’m so, so sorry for leaving you. I just couldn’t deal with everything- but it was so much worse without you.”

“I know, baby,” Lando murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your forehead as you curl into his arms. “It’s you and me, yeah?”

thank you for reading! feedback or reblogs are always appreciated <3

#formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris blurb #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smut

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lefteagleblizzard · 11 days ago

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𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: The night at the lodge was supposed to be all harmless fun until Chris made you a deal: if he helped you get closer to Mike, you'd owe him big. You laughed it off, certain he was just joking like always. But soon enough, you'd realize Chris was dead serious and the stakes had never felt more real.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Takes place an hour before the event of the prologue. Mike and Emily/Jess are not together in this. Make out session. No use of Y/N. Chris being an amazing wingman. Friends to lovers. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex. Reader being called ‘ a good boy’

Words count: 6000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

You stared out the window, entranced by the snow-covered landscape stretching beyond the glass. The mountain peaks towered in the distance, face softened by thick blankets of snow. Snowflakes danced in the wind, tumbling and swirling, like something out of a dream.

A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. "Pretty amazing view, right?"

You turned, finding Sam standing beside you, her hazel eyes bright and clear as she looked out at the scene you'd been admiring. Her breath fogged up the glass slightly as she leaned forward, folding her arms and gazing outside.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s like we're in some sort of snow globe, you know?"

Sam laughed softly, nodding. "I know. I've been here before, but somehow, every time I come back, it still takes my breath away."

You smiled, watching her for a moment before shifting your gaze back to the view. You felt a sense of quiet contentment that was rare. But it didn't last long, as Sam looped her arm through yours with a grin.

"Alright, enough of the peaceful vibes," she said, giving you a playful nudge. "We'll have plenty of time to be zen later. Everyone's downstairs, and I think we're missing out on some very important chaos"

You laughed as she started tugging you along. "I don't have much of a choice, right?"

"Exactly," she quipped, grinning as she guided you through the hallway and down the grand staircase. The lodge's wooden steps creaked underfoot.

Sam kept a steady grip on your arm, steering you through the open archway that led to the main living area.

You glanced around, taking in the scene. In one corner, Jess and Emily were huddled together, whispering intently, heads close and voices low. Jess was laughing at something Emily had just said.

To your right, the guys were clustered around the TV, where a football game was playing on the massive flat screen. Josh was perched on the arm of the couch, gesturing animatedly at the screen as if the players could hear his advice. Matt sat beside him, his focus glued to the game, nodding along and shouting at the TV whenever a play went wrong. And there, beside Matt, was Mike leaning back casually, but his eyes seemed distant, as though he was watching something beyond the screen.

You blinked as you realized that he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze caught you off guard, and for a second, your stomach did a strange little flip. Mike's expression was unreadable as he watched you and Sam together. Then, as if realizing he'd been caught, he quickly turned back to the game, jaw clenching slightly as he forced a laugh at something Matt said.

Sam didn't seem to notice any of this. Instead, she led you over to the large wooden table where Chris was lounging, a mug of hot cocoa in hand and browsing through his phone

"Look who finally decided to join the rest of us. Thought maybe you'd wandered off to commune with nature or something." he drawled, setting down his phone with a theatrical sigh.

Sam rolled her eyes but chuckled. "Some people appreciate the beauty of nature, Chris. Not everyone's glued to their phone."

"Hey, I appreciate the great outdoors as much as the next guy. With Wi-Fi and a lot fewer bears, of course."

You laughed, settling in beside Sam "Some people enjoy a bit of peace and quiet now and then."

"I'm all for peace and quiet, just not when there are opportunities for... other kinds of excitement."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit wary. “What do you mean?”

"You know... like maybe getting cozy with a certain someone?" He leaned in, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. "This could be your big chance, man."

You could feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly glanced away, mumbling, "Chris, come on”

Chris laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "I'm just saying, if there were ever a time to make a move, this is it. Perfect opportunity!"

"Chris!" Sam interjected, laughing as she gently swatted him on the arm. "Cut it out! He doesn't need you trying to play matchmaker."

Chris feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. "Sam, come on. I'm just trying to help our boy here! All you gotta do is put on some charm, maybe play it a little cool, and bam, he's yours."

"Like you're one to talk," Sam said, jumping in. "You've been making heart eyes at Ashley for all this time. How's that working out for you, Chris?"

Chris groaned, dramatically admitting defeat. "Okay, touché. But hey, tell you what, if I help you get close to Mike, you owe me a favor, or a solid friendship payback, something. Deal?"

You chuckled, waving him off. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Chris" You didn't think he was serious, but it was hard not to laugh at his enthusiasm. You knew Chris well enough to know he was just having a bit of fun.

"Good," Chris said, giving you a mock-salute. "Now that's settled, I'll be expecting my reward once you and Mike are official"

"Official?" You snorted, leaning back in your seat. "I'm pretty sure we're a long way from that"

"Not if you listen to your wingman here," he said, winking. "I know all the right moves."

"Right," Sam interjected with a grin. "Just like you know all the moves to win Ashley over?"

Chris held up his hands, chuckling. "I can be persuasive."

Sam shook her head, laughing softly. She leaned in, giving you an encouraging smile. "Look, don't listen to him. Just be yourself, and if it's meant to happen, it will. And don't let him pressure you into anything."

"Thank you, Sam," you replied, grateful for her grounded advice.

The game wrapped up, the room buzzed with chatter and laughter. Josh turned off the TV and everyone gravitated toward the couches in the living room, drawn together by the warmth of the fireplace and the cozy ambiance of the lodge. The couches were a bit crowded, and as people started finding seats, you hovered near the edge, ready to grab a stool from the table to give everyone more room.

"Hey!" Mike's voice made you turn back. "There's room here." He gestured to the narrow space beside him, barely wide enough for one person.

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks warm as you registered what he was offering. It wasn't much room. Actually, it was hardly any room at all. But he was looking at you expectantly, his gaze unwavering, and you found yourself nodding, unable to turn down the chance.

You made your way over, careful to keep your composure even as your heart raced. Sliding into the narrow space, you were acutely aware of his shoulder pressing warmly against yours, his knee brushing against your leg.

The chatter picked up around you, Jessica was animatedly recounting a wild story from a previous trip, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing laughs from Sam and Emily. Matt listened with an amused grin as she continued her exaggerated retelling. Chris and Ashley sat on the floor near the fireplace talking with Josh, their shoulders bumping every so often, and every time, Ashley's cheeks would flush a faint pink.

"You look nervous," Mike whispered, his breath brushing close to your ear, low enough that only you could hear. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Don't worry, I don't bite... much"

You swallowed, glancing sideways at him. His face was close, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. "No, I'm fine," you managed to reply, trying to sound casual despite how fast your heart was beating. "It's just a bit of a tight squeeze."

He chuckled softly, eyes glinting. "Yeah, real tight. Guess you're just gonna have to get cozy with me."

You felt your face flush, and he seemed to catch it, his grin widening just a little. The conversation around you flowed on but you felt as though there was this separate, quieter bubble with just you and Mike.

Casually, he stretched his arm out along the back of the couch and his arm soon dropped gently onto your shoulder, his fingers grazing the fabric of your sweater. His hand large and warm where it rested.

The others were talking, lost in discussion about various topics but you were barely able to focus on a single word.

You could feel Mike's eyes on you, and when you dared to glance his way, you found him watching you with a quiet intensity, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, his gaze lingering a bit too long, savoring the sight of you flustered beside him. The flicker of firelight danced in his eyes, giving them a soft, molten glow.

You two were, like, five seconds away from sitting on each other's laps and if you wanted to, he wouldn't mind at all.

He looked away then, his fingers tapping lightly on your arm as he settled back, his focus shifting to the others' conversation, smiling at something Jess was said.

"So there I was," Jess said, leaning forward, "freshman year, completely new at school, trying to look cute in gym class which, by the way, is nearly impossible with the whole sweats and sneakers thing." She rolled her eyes, earning chuckles from the group. "And we're playing dodgeball. I'm just minding my own business doing some selfies, when BAM!" She smacked her hands together, emphasizing the impact. "This guy drills me in the face with the ball. I literally hit the ground in front of the entire class."

The room erupted with laughter, Chris practically doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

"Okay, okay," Matt said, wiping a tear from his eye after the laughter had died down. "I've got one, but no judging."

"We're all friends here, Matt," Chris teased, leaning forward with mock seriousness. "Of course we’re gonna do it."

Matt launched into a story about a school dance gone wrong. Something about spilling punch on his crush's dress and then slipping in it while trying to apologize. The group listened, laughing and wincing as he described the mortifying details.

Just as Matt's story ended, Josh turned his attention to Mike, "What about you? Surely you've got some embarrassing memory tucked away."

Mike chuckled, feigning reluctance but clearly enjoying the attention. "You guys want a story? Here's one. My first kiss was not exactly smooth."

The room perked up, everyone leaning in a little closer.

"Alright, alright. So... freshman year. I was at this house party. You know, feeling like a big deal and all that." He leaned forward, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "I'm wearing way too much cologne because, apparently, I thought that was how you got someone's attention. And, yeah, I was nervous."

The group chuckled, and you found yourself smiling as you imagined a younger, less self-assured Mike.

"It was one of those moments, you know? I'm thinking, 'This is it, man’ So, finally, I'm like, okay, I'm going in for the kiss." He paused for dramatic effect.

"And I close my eyes... maybe a little too soon. So, I lean in, full of confidence, but instead of a pair lips, I end up kissing a forehead, like I was giving a blessing or something," he said, laughing as he reenacted the awkward gesture, his face breaking into a grimace.

The room burst into laughter, everyone's amusement only fueling Mike's smile.

Emily grinned, tapping her chin to appear deep in thought. "You know, that sounds like it needs a redo."

Mike raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying," Emily continued, her tone playful and a little too serious, "you need a chance to redeem yourself. Your reputation is on the line here, Mike.

"Oh, come on, Michael," Jess teased, winking at Emily. "Emily's just trying to help you out."

Emily crossed her arms, pretending to look offended. "If you're as smooth as you think you are, this should be easy."

Chris voice soon stole the attention of everyone, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at you. “Why don’t you step in and be a good homie? Make this unique for him without hurting the girls’ feelings here. It’s just a way to help a buddy out.”

Heat flooded your face, and you looked at Chris with a mixture of disbelief and horror, silently cursing him for putting you on the spot. He had an exaggerated, almost innocent smile, like he hadn't just thrown you into the spotlight. You could feel the group's attention shift, everyone's curiosity piqued as they picked up on Chris's not-so-subtle suggestion.

Your heart started to race, your mind suddenly split in trying to figure out what to do.

Accept the proposal. Embrace the challenge, let the thrill ignite something between you two, regardless of the potential consequences. It could solidify your feelings and perhaps satisfy your infatuation, or throw your friendship with others into chaos.

Refuse. Protect yourself from vulnerability, avoid complicating things with Mike, and maintain a semblance of control over the situation. It’s safe, but it might leave you wondering what could have been.

You take a deep breath, weighing the options. You looked over at Mike from the corner of your eyes and to your surprise, he didn't seem phased or disgusted at all. In fact, he looked intrigued. Maybe even a bit too eager. He shifted closer, his gaze steady as he looked at you, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Accept the proposal

A faint shimmer seemed to ripple across the room, a barely perceptible wave that was more felt than seen, like the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings resonating outwards, echoing into something larger, something unknown.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"I’ve got no problem," you said, your voice quieter than you'd intended, a slight tremor betraying the excitement that was coursing through you. Your pulse quickened as you realized how real this was about to become. "But no promises on-"

Before you could finish, Mike's hand was on your face, his fingers warm and steady against your skin as he gently but firmly guided you to face him. His touch was confident, the kind of touch that held no hesitation, no doubt. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of excitement in his eyes, a spark that catches you off guard.

His touch was warm, grounding, and you barely had time to brace yourself before his lips met yours.

The kiss started soft, a gentle pressure that deepened soon, his lips parting slightly as he tilted your head, his hand steadying you.

His arm around your shoulder tightened, drawing you in closer and enveloping you in the warmth of his solid frame, effectively caging you against him. Backing away was no longer an option.

The room around you erupted in shouts and cheers, but they felt like background noise to the consuming connection between you and Mike.

You could feel his restraint slipping, his eagerness intensifying. His lips moved with a hunger that was unmistakable, his hand slipping down to your shoulder, fingers pressing into your skin as if to anchor himself.

You felt his tongue slip forward, grazing against yours, a bold, unrestrained movement that took your breath away. His breath mingled with yours as his tongue explored, tracing along your teeth and slipping eagerly into every corner of your mouth. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he angled you closer, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

Emily sat back, her expression carefully controlled, her usual sharp confidence dimming as she watched you and Mike. There was a bitterness in her eyes that she tried to hide behind a forced smile, her gaze dropping as if she couldn't bear to watch.

Sam glanced away from the intensity of the moment, a soft smile spreading across her face as she took in your bliss. She was genuinely happy for you, watching you live out what could only be described as a dream for anyone with their crush. But as her gaze drifted to Hannah, her expression shifted.

She gave Chris a quick punch on the arm, muttering, "Nice going, cupid," as she shot a concerned glance toward Hannah who was looking down, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Chris, realizing what he'd inadvertently stirred up, shifted uncomfortably, murmuring an apology under his breath.

"I swear I thought it'd just be, like, a quick smooch or something. Didn't expect him to... you know, go all in."

You could feel your friends laughing together, their voices blending with the loud beating of your heart reverberating in your ears, all of them no longer paying attention to you and Mike.

Mike's mouth was still on yours, his lips pressing insistently along with the soft cradle of his hand on the back of your head as he leaned in even closer, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, a soft, almost tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of his kiss.

When he finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, he didn't move far. His arm remained on your shoulder, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as his gaze lingered on your face. His pupils wide and there was a spark of satisfaction in the small, lopsided grin that curved his lips. He looked as though he'd just accomplished something he'd wanted for a long time, and his hand remained at your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek, leaving you with the realization that maybe Mike felt the same way.

He winked at you, his grin widening as he took in the sight of your flushed face, pleased with the effect he'd had on you.

The warmth of the lodge felt almost suffocating after this. Your heart was pounding, your skin tingling, and you could feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace. So, when everyone got up to see who could withstand more booze between Josh and Chris, you slipped away from the group, sneaking outside to steady yourself.

Sitting alone outside in the snow, you tilted your head back and exhaled, your breath clouding the air around you in soft, fleeting puffs. The chill from the ground seeped through your clothes, but you barely noticed, too lost in the replay of the kiss that had unfolded with Mike earlier. A quiet smile lingered on your lips, but it was starting to ache from how long it had stayed there. You touched your face, almost laughing at how ridiculous it felt to be so swept up by a single kiss.

The silence was broken by a distant, eerie sound. A chilling, guttural scream that seemed to echo through the snowy trees, too animalistic to be human and too distorted to be familiar. You suddenly became aware of just how isolated you were out here. With one last look around, you decided it was best to head back inside.

Chris and Josh were sprawled across the two couches, completely knocked out. Josh's arm hung limply over the edge, while Chris had somehow managed to slump halfway down the couch, his head hanging back and a gentle snore escaping his lips.

You walked over, chuckling softly as you took in the sight. Chris's face was adorned with various drawings, courtesy of your mature friends. He had a mustache, glasses, and something vaguely resembling a pirate's eye patch.

You leaned in, whispering to him, "I'll make it up to you somehow." Не mumbled something incomprehensible in response, but it only made you smile, glad he was there, even in his alcohol-induced stupor.

As you straightened, your gaze drifted to the table nearby, where a crumpled piece of paper lay. Intrigued, you reached for it, noticing that it had been folded and unfolded multiple times. It wasn't long before you recognized Jessica's handwriting, her signature dramatic flourish over every "i" and "j". Curiosity piqued, you smoothed it out and began reading.

They intended to lure Hannah into thinking Mike was genuinely interested in her, playing on her obvious crush. An idea likely planted by Emily, who you knew was never above using a little underhandedness to get what she wanted, especially if it meant eliminating any ‘competition’ for Mike's attention

Hannah had been Mike's quiet admirer for as long as anyone could remember, and she likely saw you as competition, someone who was slowly claiming the attention she'd always dreamed of having for herself.

And the the kiss you had with Mike happened. Raw, real, with an intensity you hadn't felt before. The memory alone was enough to make your heart race, but now it was tinted with a complicated swirl of guilt and conflict.

You folded the paper and placed it back on the table, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Taking a steadying breath, you climbed the stairs, your heart a chaotic mix of emotions. Maybe you were in time to see what they were up to and stop this stupid idea but, as you reached the landing, you saw Hannah standing in the hallway, looking more vulnerable than ever.

She had changed into a new outfit, this should have been the shirt mentioned on the paper. Her makeup was carefully applied and she'd styled her hair, giving her an air of confidence that seemed fragile beneath the surface. She was trying to be someone else tonight, someone she thought Mike might finally notice.

She greeted you, her voice soft, almost shy. Ber hands fidgeting slightly as she shifted her weight. "Have you, um, seen Mike around anywhere?"

Her question hit you like a blow, and suddenly, everything froze.

Tell her the truth. Take the burden upon yourself, spare her from the cruel joke waiting for her. Show compassion, empathy, knowing it would devastate her to hear that her crush was being used against her. It was the honorable path. But in doing so, you risk losing any chance you had with Mike, knowing she might find some way to make him notice her, knowing she would keep clinging to her hope.

Tell her where Mike could be. Give her the small push that would send her toward the prank, and maybe—just maybe— she'd realize he wasn't hers to pursue. She'd see the truth of the situation, feel the sting of betrayal, and let go of the dream she held onto so tightly. It would be a selfish choice, driven by a desire to keep what you'd found with Mike, however brief, however new it was.

You looked at her, feeling your heart clench. Hannah's eyes held a faint glimmer of smugness, a subtle look that told you she saw you as her rival, someone she'd managed to one-up. There was a quiet triumph in her gaze, like she knew she'd taken a step ahead in this unspoken competition, and it stirred something in you. An ache of jealousy, resentment, a desperation to hold onto that kiss you'd shared with Mike, the feeling of his hand on your face, his gaze steady and unguarded.

The kiss was still fresh in your memory, vivid and electric. His lips on yours, the look in his eyes when he'd pulled back, the way he lingered, his hand resting on your jaw, his thumb brushing your skin. Those moments felt like yours alone. The thought of giving that up, of stepping aside, felt like a painful tearing inside.

It was that memory that tipped the scales, jealousy and desire mingling with fear and longing, stirring something selfish, something raw.

Tell her where Mike could be

You forced a small smile, doing your best to keep your voice calm. "I think he went upstairs. Maybe check one of the rooms?”

A faint shimmer flickered in your peripheral vision, like a ripple in the air, and a twinge of guilt tightened in your chest.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Hannah's eyes lit up, her face breaking into an excited smile, the look of triumph becoming even more pronounced as she nodded, glancing down the hallway with a sense of anticipation. "Thank you," she murmured as she turned, her steps quick and light, eager to reach the encounter she thought awaited her.

You watched her disappear down the hall, your heart sinking as a pang of guilt twisted inside you. The weight of what you'd done settled heavily, an ache that gnawed at your chest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Turning away, you felt the need for air, for space, and made your way toward the balcony. The crisp night air hit you as you stepped outside, the chill biting into your skin, but it did little to shake the lingering weight of your decision. The view stretched before you, vast and beautiful, snow-covered trees casting dark silhouettes against the star-speckled sky.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes, letting the cold seep into you, grounding yourself in the reality of everything that had happened tonight. The kiss replayed in your mind. You could still feel his touch, the press of his lips, the breathless thrill that had consumed you, making you forget the world around you.

You had let jealousy and insecurity guide you, and it left you feeling hollow, a gnawing ache spreading in your chest as you replayed the moment you'd told Hannah where to find him.

You'd let her walk into a setup, into a trap that would humiliate her, and as much as you wanted Mike to yourself, as much as you craved the connection you'd felt with him, the choice you'd made felt cold, cruel.

So much time passed, snowflakes started to accumulate on your hair and clothes and you were still lost in thought when the soft creak of footsteps on the wooden deck broke the silence, pulling you back to the present. Turning, you were surprised to see Mike stepping out onto the balcony.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"There you are," he said softly, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I was looking for you."

A pang of relief washed over you at seeing him, even as the guilt returned with a renewed intensity. You managed a small smile, trying to push away the conflict twisting in your chest. "Hey," you replied, watching him as he closed the distance between you.

Mike offered you a small, teasing smile, the familiar cocky grin that you'd come to love. "I've got something a little important to talk about with you."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way his eyes held a playful glint. He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "You know, that little thing that happened between us a few minutes ago... I think we left it unfinished."

You could feel again your heartbeat drumming in your ears, and a small smile tugged at your lips. "Is that so?" you replied, feeling a spark of excitement rekindle.

"Yeah," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, softer tone as he leaned even closer. "I think we might have a few things to clear up about us." His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, as he added with a hint of playful challenge, "Unless, of course, you're gonna tell me that was just a favor, and you don't feel the same way."

The question hung between you, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. You took a steadying breath, feeling the familiar thrill of his presence, the way he seemed to pull you in effortlessly. "I... I think you know what it meant for me, Mike."

"I dunno... you seemed kinda thrown off after. Made me think maybe I did something wrong."

Your cheeks heated, and you tried to roll your eyes, but it came off as more of a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sure, like you ever doubt yourself."

"Hey," he said, pretending to look wounded, though the grin never left his face. "I have doubts. I mean, how else am I supposed to know if I've got a shot?"

He grinned, his hand moving to grasp your waist, "So, tell me," he said, his voice husky and barely audible. "Did I live up to your expectations?"

"Expectations?" you echoed.

"Yeah, you know," he said, his hand squeezing gently. "A kiss is kind of a big deal, right? Wouldn't want you to feel like you got short-changed."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face. "I don't have any complaints," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's eyes lit up, that cocky grin widening as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous murmur. "See, I was hoping for more than just 'no complaints’," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want you wanting more and more... until you're practically counting down the seconds to get another chance with me." He tilted his head, his gaze flickering to your lips for a heartbeat before meeting your eyes again, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The words sent a thrill racing through you, leaving your heart pounding as he inched even closer. His confidence was magnetic, and you could feel yourself drawn to it, the space between you almost electric.

Mike leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, searching your expression as if looking for any hint of hesitation, but when you didn't pull away, he took his chance.

His lips met yours with a slow, deliberate pressure. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, his other hand lifting to cradle your jaw, his fingers gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss, savoring every moment, every small reaction.

His mouth moved against yours with a quiet, unhurried intensity. His breath was warm, and the faint scent of cologne lingered, mixing with the crispness of the winter air.

He pulled back slightly, his face hovering inches from yours, his breath coming in soft, uneven puffs as he watched you. His eyes held a mixture of affection and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private." He murmured, his voice low and rough as he glanced back toward the lodge.

You felt a thrill shoot through you, and you nodded, letting him guide you back inside. His hand stayed at your waist as he led you through the hallway, past the sleeping forms of Chris and Josh downstairs, until you reached the room he usually took when staying at the lodge.

He paused just outside the door, glancing back at you with a hint of hesitation. "Are you alright with this?" he asked, his voice softer now, vulnerable.

In response, you stepped forward, your hand reaching up to pull him into another fierce kiss, pressing him against the wall, your lips moving urgently against his. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and he let out a soft, pleased sound as he responded with equal intensity, his mouth meeting yours with renewed passion. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you felt him guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

You tumbled onto it, and he followed, his hands bracing him as he hovered over you, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours with hunger.

You couldn’t help but revel in the fact that Mike wants you. You’ve dreamed of this, fantasized about it for so long, yet the weight of your choices weighs heavily on your heart. The way Mike holds you makes you feel cherished, and you can’t help but savor every second.

How could something so beautiful feel so wrong?

You could feel the intoxicating warmth of his breath as he moved down near, his lips grazing your jawline and neck with tantalizing kisses. Each gentle bite ignited a wave of desire, making you ache for more as he savored every curve of your skin

With your silent permission, he lifted your shirt, his fingers trailing along your skin as he slipped it over your head. He took a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down to your chest.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back, as if he didn't want to rush this moment.

You felt his hands founding their way to your ass, cupping and squeezing it firmly. His kisses grew bolder, deeper, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

He leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "Been waiting for this... for us." his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more.

Mike is here, right now, wanting you, and the idea of sharing him with anyone else feels unbearable. It’s selfish, you know, but the idea of being the one he craves makes you feel alive, even if it means stepping on someone else’s feelings.

His hands moved lower, unbuckling your belt and sliding your pants down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled your pants off completely, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He moved down your body, his lips trailing a path of fire as he explored every inch of you.

As he moved lower, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

When his lips finally reached their destination, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

Mike's pace was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He took his time, drawing out every sensation, every moan, until you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with need.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with evidence of his work, you were a mess of whimpers and gasps, your body aching for release. But Mike wasn't done with you yet. He moved back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that made you dizzy with want.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you try to form words. "I need you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. "Please, Mike."

"Give me a second" his voice husky and breathless as he got up from the bed with a soft grunt.

He leaned over and opened a drawer, his hand reaching out to open it. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a bottle of lube.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice laced with lust as he looked at you, his grin widening at your obvious embarrassment.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your face burning as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "Y-yeah," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike chuckled softly, setting the bottle aside for a moment as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. "You're so fucking cute when you're shy" he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

A pair of warm and calloused hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you.

His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure and when he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the weight of him grounding you.

He was so big.

He entered you slowly, the stretch and burn of him filling you completely, making you gasp as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was unleashing emotions and desires kept in check for too long.

"You're so perfect for me" Mike whispered, his voice rough as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, across your chest.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps that escaped your lips as he drove into you, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

"Fuck, you feel so good! My good boy... only mine." Mike growled, his voice rough and possessive as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, deeper.

You felt your body respond to his voice, to the way he claimed you with each movement, each touch. You clung to him, your hands clutching at his back as he drove you both higher, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best possible way.

You finally reached that peak together, your body trembling beneath him as you came, the pleasure washing over you in waves so intense that you could barely breathe.

Mike groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. His body shaking with the force of it and collapsing gently on top of you. He was heavy, but there were many other things to think about at the moment.

You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a mix of the lingering energy between you and the warmth of his body against yours. His chest pressed into yours as he leaned down, his breathing deep and even, and you noticed a light sheen of sweat tracing his brow

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his big and muscular biceps flexing unnecessarily, as though he couldn't resist showing off just a little bit.

A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you. He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, his voice still a little husky and a bit of that cocky charm you'd come to know so well.” Just so you know," he murmured, his words brushing against your ear, "I'm ready to make this official... to show you exactly what kind of boyfriend I can be." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the words half-teasing, half-serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that told you he meant every word. "You're kinda stuck with me now. Think you can handle it?"

He wanted this, wanted you and every part of him was showing it, from the gentle hold he kept on your waist to the way his gaze held yours like he didn't want to let go.

"You're not getting away from me that easily," he murmured, his voice still laced with that familiar confidence, but there was something gentler there too, an honesty that left you feeling reassured, safe. "You're kinda stuck with me now. Think you can handle it?"

You laughed softly, the sound warm and light in the quiet room, and you felt his chest rumble in response as he laughed along with you, the two of you sharing a moment of unspoken understanding. "I think I can manage," you whispered back, squeezing his hand gently.

His grin softened into a smile, and he let his forehead rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the comfortable silence.

Note: I’m thinking of perhaps doing a part 2 of this, i feel like there is some potential. Maybe i could take a darker turn with it. Let me know if you would like it and if you have an idea of what could happen next. If you liked this please leave a comment, i love reading them <3

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jjkfanatik · 5 months ago

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Pablo Martin Páez Gavira x Reader

Summary: You find out that the guy you have been going out with has been lying about who he really is. How did you guys even meet, what were his reasons and thoughts and will your relationship remain?

Warnings: grammar issues, brief and light mention of drinking, other than that it’s pretty fluffy.

A/n: Hello Ladies! This is the first time i ever wrote something with the intention to post it. Feel free to give me some tips on how to better my writing, as long as you are kind. Keep in mind that english is not my first language. I hope you guys enjoy this. 🤗

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He knew he shouldn’t have lied about who he really is, but that one little lie came out of him before he could even think about it and now what is he supposed to do! Should he just run away and tell you the truth after those two weeks of such nice dates he is almost convinced that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Run away and block you as soon as he gets home, yeah thats whats going on inside his head standing still and silently in front of you.

Does he even want to leave you? No, of course not. He wants to get to know you even better and continue all those dates and show you what you really mean to him.

can you really blame him tho? football players often don’t have the best reputation, pablo would never want you to think of him as arrogant or a player, or -even worse- an arrogant player. But you found out and now he needs to fix it bevor he never gets the chance to talk to you again.

“Um… your name is pablo right? Not actually Martin…”You asked, again seeing as he stood there not even blinking an eye, after you just asked him the first time, standing infront of your dorm room door.

keeping a soft voice and trying not to look too angry while asking the question that has been on your mind ever since he picked you up to take a walk and later on eat a sweet treat. Understandably you were angry, after finding out about his, real identity you could say, you have been nothing but thinking about why he would hide it.

Many emotions swirled through your body. Anger, disappointment and sadness. Feeling stupid for not having known him and needing your friend to look at you like you have grown to heads when you told her about this Martin guy and later showing her a picture of him “well thats pablo gavi” she told you. Thinking so much about it had you starting to form some self doubt, quickly shoving those thoughts away before they got to serious. Getting the idea that he may had gotten a wrong impression on you when you first meet him, causing him to lie but why would he then ask for your number and later on take you on really amazing dates where he had been nothing but a total sweetheart, nothing made sense anymore.

Bringing you flowers which seem like so much thought had been put into picking each and every single flower in there, holding every door open for you and making sure that you were nothing but comfortable and content during each and every second of the day. You guys had meet due to a really good Friend you had made during your first week here at university, Sira Martínez is her name. Having moved from a foreign country to peruse your dream, i had not been easy to make many -really any- friends since every student has their friendgroup and being pretty hostile when someone tried to come to close for their liking. When you had meet her in the community bathroom crying about her boyfriend beeing injured and not knowing how to help you could just not leave her there. Sitting there for more than two hours and talking about various things, both of you knew that a new bond was just formed.

After your first exam Sira had been trying to talk you to come clubbing with her, adding that you should “loosen up or else you wont find a boyfriend ever” and after hours of her sticking to your side like gum and telling you how both of you could even go into the vip section of that club because her boyfriend is known by the locals and many more, you agreed just so she would give you some peace.

Thats how you found yourself in a way to fancy club in the even fancier vip lounge all alone sipping on some cold beverage thats to expensive for its bad taste. Your gaze is set on Sira and her man laughing und danzing like there is no tomorrow. Your eyes sometimes shift to this one guy standing there with his friends conversing. Something about him just seems to draw your attention on him. Maybe its the way the purple light shines on his face, even a couple of meters away you can tell hes got those birthmarks on his really, really handsome face.

A scream shifts your attention to the other side of the club. Just some girl having had to much to drink. You want to turn around again and get back to observing that guy. But hes sitting right beside you. Jumping a little you look at your hands on the table holding an overpriced and not so good tasting beverage. Thank god its on the house -again Siras boyfriend- your bracing yourself because your sure your about to get told off for looking like some creep. But that never came instead; “I like your dress.”

And thats how you hit it of talking about how the club does not suite both of y’all’s taste and you would have much rather been invited to a more closed of, private and chill get together.

Never would you have expected him to lie about who he really is.

“I didnt want you making assumptions about me im not a bad person just bc i play football, im a nice guy you know that. I just thought that you would rather give me a chance being just me.” His eyes never meeting yours

“Your cute and kind Pablo, i like that about you and your fist name is nice, it fits you better”

Inching closer together and standing a bit on your tippie toes to fully reach his face

Pablos and your lips met in a soft and short kiss which had soon been intensified by Pablo’s hands that pulled you two closer together. His fingers caressed your cheeks. Even after parting from your lips they stayed right there providing you warmth and comfort You both stood there for a couple of seconds just smiling at each other, like some silly in love teens, which to be honest you guys kinda really are.

As you both then backed up a little bit. You wanted to make sure that nothing about your relationship -if you could call it that- had changed. “ so will you pick me up tomorrow? we should go on a date you as pablo and me as me.” I see his eyes get a bit wide wondering if he really thought that I would be so mad at him to not want to see him again my heart breaks a little thinking of that.

My stream of thoughts soon gets interrupted as he answers me. “Yeah! Definitely i will come straight after practice, don’t worry really!” His answer is a bit rushed. He seems excited. At least i hope he is. “Just make sure to not come smelly” we both laugh at that slowly inching more and more away even tho both of us would have loved some more time together. Having reached the door and getting my keys out i open the door, turning to him one last time debating if I should blow him a kiss or not but deciding against it, that can wait for after our date tomorrow.

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Alter Just found this after like 6 months 💀

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #fc barcelona #x reader #gavi #pablo gavira #fermin lopez x reader

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hansensgirl · 10 months ago

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summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debts.

prompts. | Ari Levinson + Mob Boss + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” (credits to @celestianstars for inspiring this prompt) + Innocence, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, mob stuff, age gap, abuse of power, power imbalance, pet names, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking (ari), drinking (ari), debts, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

The weight of the debt sits heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. You find it hard to breathe as one of Ari’s associates leads you to the leader’s office. You note that the man doesn’t keep a hand on his gun as usual. You clearly aren’t a threat—what could a little thing like you do to the big, bad mob boss?

Ari welcomes you in and ushers you to sit wherever you’d like, and you relieve your shaky legs when you sit in front of his oak desk.

“Do you need anything to eat or drink? I can make some coffee or tea,” he offers. “N– no, thank you, sir,” you nearly whisper, scared and, therefore, quiet. Ari gives you a smile as he rubs his beard, flashing the tattoos, scars, and rings that decorate his hand.

“Shy, aren’t ya? Don’t worry. I don’t bite unless you ask me to,” he chuckles, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. You can spy smoke swirling from an ashtray, a cigarette freshly put out sitting inside.

“So, what did you need to talk about?” Ari starts for you, and for a second, you forget why you’ve come here. The debt. A few beats of silence pass as you try to formulate your thoughts, and Ari watches you intently the entire time. “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he eventually adds.

“S– Sir, I never knew my family owed you money,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “Of course you wouldn’t, baby. That was many years ago, and I doubt an innocent thing like you knows what goes on around here,” he grins.

“Yes, well, I was hoping I could have some more time to pay it off. I don’t make much at my job, but I promise I’ll get you your money back,” you explain, hands flying out of nerves. Ari hums as if considering your offer.

“The interest is a bit much, but I can handle it. Please, I just need some more time,” you plead, and you wonder if you’ve spoken too much. Or perhaps your request is too outlandish. Either way, you worry that you’re doomed.

There is more silence and then a deep sigh from the burly man before you.

“You make a good case for yourself, pumpkin,” he tells you. You look at him, raising your gaze from your lap, where your thumbs twiddle. “But now that I think about it, I really don’t need your money. I have more than enough of my own, anyway,” Ari snickers.

You force a smile. He mirrors it, but the mob boss’s seems genuine.

“I– I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite understand,” you admit to him sheepishly. Ari coos at you. “That’s alright, bunny. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to pay the loan back,” he says, and you’re filled with elation.

You could nearly jump for joy, but you know you should restrain yourself in front of the city’s most dangerous man. Instead, you settle for grinning until your cheeks hurt and giggling. “Oh, my. Thank you so much, sir! That means the world to me—you don’t understand,” you cheer.

Ari chuckles at your happiness before the smile on his face fades. “But that doesn’t mean you can just walk away freely, baby,” he tells you, and you can feel your bubble bursting. “Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be anything bad. In fact, you’ll probably end up loving it as much as me,” Ari continues, and he stands up.

He walks towards you and kneels in front of you. “You’ll be my perfect little plaything for the rest of the year. No ifs, ands, or buts. Unless you want me to add to your debts… Increase your interest?” Ari threatens, and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Good girl,” the older man coos. “I’ve been dying to have you on my arm, angel.”

#sab’s dark concepts (2023)#ari levinson #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #dark ari levinson #dark!ari levinson #chris evans #drabble #request #sabs concepts

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months ago

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One of your stronger demon oc’s: hey babe you interested in trying a new kind of foreplay? It’s called demonic possession

Their match: *looking confused* you already possess me though?

[Already talked about Livius with this, so why not good old Santi? Fem reader.]

The incubus laughs.

It's that same old rich, deep noise that had your knees weak the first time you heard it, and still manages to make you warm up briefly. Santi gives you a calm, lidded and loving look, it feels just the tiniest bit patronizing.

" Mm, that I do. "

He swirls his glass of sangria idly. You know he's not going to drink, its only purpose is to match your own set of cutlery, to make it feel as if Santi is having dinner with you, when he's really just keeping you company as you fulfill your basic human needs. You can't really complain about this though, the demon goes out of his way to order excellent dishes for you, and he never fails any of the "human meals in a day", as he put it.

" However- " The world rolls off his mischievous tongue. " I was using the word in a literal sense, love. "

You choke on the steak. " E- Excuse me? "

His head tilts, some sort of realization coming over that pale face when he studies your reaction. " No no, excuse me- I should have explained this to you better. "

Santi steeples his fingers for a moment, pauses, then plays with the glass some more, tracing its golden rim.

" You're familiar with the concept of demonic possession, right? " He starts, tone slightly more serious.

A shiver crawls up your spine, not exactly the most pleasant kind. " Y... Yes. Isn't it something horrific though? It's supposed to hurt! And deform someone's body! It can kill me! Why would you- "

" Easy. " Santi calls, watching your rambling get out of hand.

" Santi, that's insanity! You want to make me crawl the walls and start chanting things?! That arouses you? I don't think my body can- "

" Love. "

The more forceful tone silences you, but by no means is your apprehension quelled. Your appetite seems to fade in the face of possible danger.

There's a sigh from the monster in front of you.

" And this is why your silly little horror movies keep causing a divide in our society... "

That catches your attention.

A less inviting frown sits on Santi's face. " Possession gets an incredibly harmful reputation from your precious Exorcist movies. Each one more ludicrous than the last. "

It's your turn to frown. " Don't sit there and tell me that those things don't happen, Santi! Possession is done for all sorts of things and I'm not stupid enough to buy a lie that it's all sunshine and rainbows... "

You expect him to get even more upset, but instead, the incubus shakes his head, setting the glass down to look you in the eyes. " But it doesn't have to be that way, love. "

He continues when all you do is cross your arms.

" You've seen a hundred movies about demons with ill intent tarnishing the bodies of surfacers... But you've never seen a movie about a demon possessing the person they love, have you? "

Silence. He lets those words splay onto the table like a winning hand in a tense game of cards.

And, truth be told, you have nothing to counter that with. Because he's right. You have never heard of such a thing as possession between lovers.

" ... That's real? "

" More than real. " The high-ranker responds softly. " It's one of the most intimate thing you can do with an infernal partner. " Some of that earlier playfulness shines again. " And it can be so fun. "

You gulp, looking to the side. " It's dangerous. "

" Not if done properly. " Santi's quick to cut in. " A calm, willing vessel and a strong emotional connection will make it a much smoother process than the painful spasms you're privy to in your Halloween hits... "

It seems he has an answer for everything.

" Not to mention, as the bearer of my mark, you already have a little bit of me in you. It wouldn't be your body's first contact with my essence. " He's back to tracing the rim of the bottle, smelling it briefly, sharp pupils watching the berries in it sway before studying you once more.

" Why... Why do you want to do this? " It still sounds strange to you.

The dark fiend is silent for a few seconds, then leans forward on the table, glass set back down so his chin can rest on the palms of his hands. A grin with more teeth than lips threatens to cleave his face.

" Because it gets me really hard. "

... Can't fault him for lack of honesty.

Clearing your throat, you take a sip of your drink so you can think of what to say next. You need to pick your words right or this conversation will escalate to Santi playing with himself at the table.

" I could guess as much. "

" You're still hesitant. " He points out, piercings jingling as he tilts his head.

" I guess... What I'm more worried about is, how long it'll last. What you're going to do. What... What're the terms? "

His brows raise. " Treating this like a deal? How clever of you! Alright, here are my terms. "

Santi straightens, and although his smile is endlessly lascivious and wanton, he speaks clearly and slowly.

" I want to possess your delicious body for three days and three nights. During that time, you can hear, see, smell and feel everything that happens. You can talk to me and you will be given periodic control to perform certain tasks. "

He starts.

" I want to use it for both our pleasure, and I will be having sex with people I determine can service us well. I will not disclose to these people that you are possessed. " There's a beat of silence, before he adds something in forethought. " Although it may look as if some acts will be painful, you have my word that only pleasure will reach you. "

The meaning is not lost on you. " So you want to make me sleep with huge monsters? "

Santi winks, amused to be caught.

" That's relative, isn't it? What monster isn't huge compared to a human? Why I'm fairly huge to you. "

Your eyes roll. " What a charming non-answer. "

The incubus' jovial laugh is almost infectious.

" Come now, we'll see. "

It's your turn to make a move. Wide, blinking puppy eyes are cast towards the handsome demon. " Can't you even give me a pointer, it's my body after all... "

" Is that an agreement I hear? " He hums.

" Answer the question. "

Santi makes a quiet chuckle. " Very well. " Dark knuckles crack, he stares off for a moment, licking his chops. It's the signature look of a pervert looking forward to the near future.

" I have an idea as to who our first bedwarmer can be- "

" Of course you do. "

" I really do. " He snorts, the suave look breaking entirely for half a second where his amusement is so great he cannot help it. Santi waves for you to keep eating, waiting until you have a bite to continue.

" So, there's this bakery close enough, I've been meaning to take you there for a while now because I hear stuff there is divine. Anyhow, the guy in charge of it is really interesting. You know mindflayers? "

The very same bite you just took flies out your mouth, back onto the plate. The incubus stares at it for a second, then wheezes quietly. " Taking that as a yes. "

" Aren't mindflayers... Kind of reclusive? And evil? "

" Well, typically, yes- "

" And this one runs a bakery? "

" That's what I said- "

" What is he selling, brain croissants?! "

Santi barks out a laugh that nearly sends spittle across the table, having to look away from you, clutching his midsection and cackling like a madman.

" That's the thing- " The incubus clears his throat, nearly losing his composure again. " This one is very interesting. He's uhm- I'm not sure what the process is called, but he's a loner. Swore off people brains, or so he says. Trying to make an honest living! "

Slowly, you try once more to finish your meal. " And you want to fuck with him. "

" No... " The way his lips wobble at your deadpan is enough of a tell. " I want you to fuck him."

You make a face at the idea of laying with a mindflayer.

" Mhm, don't look at me like that. " Santi purrs.

Beneath the table, you feel his tail gently loop around your ankle, squeezing.

" Have you never thought about it? What can a lover with such long tentacles do to a cute little thing like you? How will he take advantage of your weak, simple-minded nature to do whatever he wants? "

When you gulp, it's not just because you need to swallow your current mouthful.

" Let me paint the scene, love. "

The incubus seems to be getting short of breath, the thrill of his own lurid fantasy forcing him to bite his lip and trace his own horn piercings with restless fingers.

" You're hardly dressed, the peaks of your nipples poking out a sad excuse of a top and your skirt so short the smallest brush might bare your cuntlips. You're hungry, we're hungry, so you walk into this cozy looking bakery to get yourself something sweet. Oh and many are the treats in that glass display, but the most appetizing of them all is the big man carrying a hot tray from the kitchen. He's tall, a peculiar mindflayer with a strange skintone and unusually thick build, his tendrils cascading longer than you'd expect. The look on his face is one of complete focus as his boots thump softly on the ground. Until he sees you, that is- "

Your attention to this little tale he's spinning is more rapt than you'd care to admit. Not that you need to, Santi can tell.

" His latest client. A human girl with this cute little smile and doe eyes. Mister Roland, you ask so sweetly, I've been told such wonderful things about your talent and pastries. You're oh so charming, so enticing, the poor baker can't deny the thoughts that course through his perverted mind. He wants to bend you over his counter, wants to spread you out before him and force your legs apart with his long nimble appendages. You'd make such a fine stress-reliever to rut into during breaks, wouldn't you? And you'd love getting stuffed full of illithid cock, right? You're begging for it after all... "

" God, Santi- " You mutter under your breath.

" Hm... Maybe all it takes is some simple conversation, letting those fantasies foment in his mind, building into a desire so pungent it would make even me crawl the walls. You tilt your head, kick your legs, lid your eyes and invite him away. He wouldn't mind a little interruption, surely. And then, oh then- With a little bit of my help, you'd turn him into a drooling beast. A species thought so impervious to all sorts of manipulations, all but barely able to think of anything except the taste of your pussy, the hug of it around his cock- He's lonely, lonelier than he's ever been now that he's on his own. You're probably the first thing he's going to fuck in a small eternity. Ideally, we get him here. Want to know why? "

Santi points to the bedroom, where a large mirror resides.

" I want to see him hold you up in those practiced hands and pound you into a pulp with his tendrils wrapped all around you, neck tits thighs, flicking your dirty little clit- Oh he may not eat your brain, but he's certainly going to fuck it out of you. "

" Holy shit, Santi- " You nearly yell.

" Fun, right? I told you. You just have to start believing in me a little more. " He's back to weirdly smelling the sangria.

The silence that follows is thick and heady, he lets you process the canvas he painted for you with a soft rumble of anticipation. You dare not look into Santi's eyes, because the depravity you'll find there will doubtlessly steal your will.

Fork and knife neatly arranged, you push the plate forward.

" I... I want a safeword. "

The way he lights up like a Christmas tree is impossible to miss.

" Of course, love. " The incubus sighs dreamily. " We can pick one tomorrow. Now, if you're done eating, let's get you to bed. "

" Because, after all, you're going to have a long couple of days ahead of you. "

#Santi oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #terato tag #monsterfucker #monster x reader #not sfw

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synamartia · 4 months ago

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[ Featured Artwork © lustylita ] ❀ [ Featured Divider © cafekitsune ]

[ Story © synamartia ] ❀ [ Text banner created via TextStudio ]

Content Warnings: Alastor x Reader ; Afab!Reader ; No pronouns or Y/N used ; Use of gendered pet names like "good/dirty girl" ; Explicit / MDNI / 18+ ; Sexual situations ; Sex pollen trope (Love Potion) ; Oral (m + f receiving) ; Spanking ; Dirty talk ; Praise kink ; Dom!Alastor ; Dacryphilia ; If I missed any, let me know! Word Count: 6,183 Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska ; @lustylita Author's Notes: Ya'll ready for this? don't lie now Alastor's dialogue will be in bold red, thoughts in italics red, and Reader's will be in blue. Tagging my darling moots and the lovely Kat for allowing me to use her art for a series banner~! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list, let me know via ask! And thank you again to Mink and Danny for helping me nail down Alastor's dialogue! You're the best! ❤

You weren't sure how you ended up here - bent over the large desk in Alastor's bedroom, but you weren't particularly worried about the circumstances surrounding your... situation. You could vaguely recall speaking with the Radio Demon about an issue regarding one of the many drug stashes belonging to Angel and what exactly each piece of paraphernalia could be - specifically, what the small spray bottle filled with a pink liquid might have been. Had you known it was an aerosolized product of Love Potion by the Vees, you never would have sprayed it on Alastor - having mistaken it for one of Angel's various colognes.

At first, the man who towered over not only you, but the entirety of the hotel staff had been upset with you, ready to give you a proper tongue-lashing for your carelessness. However, that was before the potion took effect- his original intentions went right out the window the moment it did. You had to hand it to the Vees; it only took 7.8 seconds for Alastor's pupils to dilate and his ears to flatten against his head as the drug took hold of his senses. Alastor barely held on to his sanity the second the drug went into effect - it took every single fiber of his being, every ounce of self-control to stop himself from tearing at your clothes and having his way with you right then and there. Had it not been for the distant murmurs and subtle hisses at the nearby bar, he would have. But he wouldn't subject you to such ignominy, no matter how inebriated by that god-awful concoction he was. Alastor was, first and foremost, a gentleman.

Alastor leaned in close - his face mere inches from yours, a frenzied look in his half-lidded eyes as he inhaled the distinctive spicy aroma that your minty toothpaste had given your breath. He'd rather not waste any time talking, but the one thing that horrible, awful, wonderful drug couldn't override in his brain was the innate, inherent need for consent in such acts. He could only hope you would have some mercy on the few remaining ribbons of his tattered soul and provide him with the only word he wanted to hear - yes. "I- ... I'm so sorry, Alastor- ... S-sir! I mean, M- ... Mister Alastor! I thought it was just a... a cologne..." You started - at first mistaking the look of lust in his eyes for one of malicious and sadistic intent. You had heard the rumors (who hadn't?). So when you noticed his wraithlike shadows swirling around your form and felt one of his tentacles wrap around both of your ankles, you immediately thought that you were about to be the next voice heard on his radio broadcast.

"It seems this... cologne..." you heard his voice ring out as your world went black for a few moments - the caliginous haze having engulfed both of your forms. You felt a slight breeze with how fast the darkness transported Alastor and you from the foyer up the grand flight of stairs and down the halls. At first, you had assumed he was taking you to his studio to broadcast your screams of agony for all of hell to hear. However, you were pleasantly surprised when the smoky substance dissipated, and you found yourself in the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom. "... is an aphrodisiac so potent that it's affecting even me," he said, having remained in the same bent position as he began to size you up.

"I- ... I know. I realized too late," your voice trembled as you stared back at him, fidgeting with your nails nervously. "I'm so sorry, Alastor - I'll be more caref- ...?!" The deer demon pressed a singular clawed digit against your lips to prevent you from any further stammering, shushing you as his eyes traveled down to the valley between your breasts.

"If you're truly apologetic, why don't you show me, hm?" he asked you smugly, pointed teeth parting for a moment to pull his bottom lip between them. He bit down lightly, waiting for your consent as patiently as he could manage. He refused to touch you any further until you had given him the go-ahead; he was a demon, sure - a pretty damn bad one, at that. But this was one thing he would never forego. "Will you help me through this high? After all, you are the one at fault here." You could've sworn your head was about to explode from all the blood rushing to your cheeks at that exact moment. Did he just ask you that? There's no way Alastor - one of the most feared Overlords to have ever walked the scorched wasteland of hell in recent memory; the one that broadcasts the screams of the souls that he eviscerates and atomizes for miniscule slights; the demon that has made friends with an entire town of cannibals (except one - ugh, Susan) and has brunch with their Overlord every Thursday; the man that is unapologetically contumelious and has brazenly challenged the king of hell; THE GODDAMN RADIO DEMON - is shamelessly asking if you would let him fuck you... right?

This had to be dream or an illusion of some sort. Yeah, that had to be it. But, in all honesty, it would be a lie if you said you hadn't thought about any of this - about how his lips tasted; what his nails would feel like being raked up and down your back; how far down your throat you could take him; the sweet, sweet sting of his cock stretching your walls open; or what it would feel like to have rope after rope of his hot seed spurting inside you during his climax. You wondered if he was vocal during sex, and what he would sound like while he chased that rarely sought-after release. Would it just be whimpers and sighs, or would he say the filthiest of words while he rammed his shaft into you with reckless abandon? You assumed the latter since Alastor loved to talk; to hear himself talk - you hoped he would whisper all the ways he wanted to defile you right before doing just that.

Alastor tugged your bottom lip down to reveal your bottom row of teeth as you stared at him in both bewilderment and awe, your brain struggling to process this whole exchange. After a few more moments of silence passed, you shifted your gaze down his torso to the already prominent, still-growing tent within his trousers. Using the same clawed hand that had pulled down your lip, Alastor lifted your chin so that you were forced to look him in the eye.

"Do you want this? I need an answer, Mon Ami. Now."

Having been pulled out of your dazed imagination, you took one more moment to compose yourself before responding. With a frantic nod of agreement, you threw caution to the wind as Alastor's eyes took on a subtle glow, causing your heart to race at from just the idea of sleeping with him.

C'est la vie, right?

He didn't allow you much time to think after that, immediately leaning down so that he could wrap his hands around the backsides of your thighs and hoist you up so that you were at eye-level with him. With a couple long strides, you found yourself being set down on the desk. Easing your legs apart as gently as he could, Alastor stepped between them and brought his hands up to the button-down shirt you wore, the fine layer of sweat resulting from your earlier fear of disembowelment causing patches of the white fabric to become translucent. In one swift motion, all the buttons went flying across the room as he ripped it open, exposing the black lace bra you wore beneath it. He looked like a man starved by the way his predatory gaze traveled over your half-nude form.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you still struggled to make sense of everything that's happened so far, the anticipation of whatever else may come consuming you. Hands shaking and breath rapid, you nervously brought your hands to the black bow tie wrapped beneath the lapels of his crimson dress shirt, your trembling fingers having difficulty in undoing the knot at first. You noticed the subtle flinch and how Alastor tensed when you finally managed to get the tie undone, quickly moving your hands south to undo the buttons of his suit jacket. Inebriated or not, Alastor still struggled with any physical contact that wasn't strictly on his terms. In an attempt to ease his discomfort, you pulled your hands away and looked him in the eye. "Is it okay if I touch you?" you asked him. A moment passed, and then another; then he nodded his head, granting you permission to slide his coat off his shoulders and down his arms to fall to the floor.

Eyes locked with his, you could tell he was still a little tense; so, you took things a bit further in the hopes of calming his nerves. "I'm going to unbutton your shirt now. Is that okay?" you announced, awaiting his approval once more before you continued to undress him. With another nod, Alastor let out a barely audible sigh when he felt a sudden rush of cool air on his torso a few seconds later - his shirt now being untucked and fully unbuttoned. You took a moment to take in this rare sight: Alastor's clothes disheveled and chest bare, eyes frenzied as he began to relax into your touch little by little. The tips of your fingers traced the outlines of his toned pecs down the center line of his abs and along the few tufts of cherry red hair that were the beginnings of a happy trail (fuck, now you owed $10 to Angel) - and then back up again to his broad shoulders. Alastor practically ripped the cufflinks from his wrists, a shiver running up his spine as you moved your hands past the lapels of his shirt, pushing the fabric off in the same manner as his suit coat.

With his upper garments now pooled at his feet, Alastor let one of his arms wrap around your waist and pull you to the edge of his desk - his groin coming into contact with yours. You held his gaze as one of your hands came up to wrap around the back of his neck, your other going behind you to help support your weight as you began to shallowly roll your hips against his clothed length. A soft moan escaped your throat at the friction you created, causing Alastor's muscles to tense, his spine going rigid beneath your touch. "... Do that again," he commanded you, his cock twitching within the painfully restricting confines of his trousers. He hadn't expected such a simple noise to have this profound of an effect on him physically. "Make that noise again," he rasped, pushing his hips further into you as his other hand pushed your pencil skirt up to reveal your undergarments.

"Hhhmmm... Alastor," you obliged, adding his name in a husky whisper as you rolled your hips against his once more. Alastor growled in response just before crashing his lips down on yours, swallowing the moans that were pouring from your throat. How has he never noticed the ethereal way his name sounded rolling off your tongue until now? He wondered what it would sound like being screamed so loud, that dick Lucifer could hear it all the way up on his 'holier than thou' high horse throne. You inhaled sharply through your nose as you felt a claw tug and then eventually tear at your matching black lace panties (he was SO buying you a new set; this was your favorite pair, damn it!), your skirt now bunched up at your waist, leaning your lower half completely bare.

Breaking the kiss, you pulled back just enough to see Alastor's face - eyes half-lidded, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, a thin layer of sweat accumulating on his face and torso from the prolonged proximity. "Alastor..." you whispered his name again and his cock twitched again against the now much too uncomfortable fabric. You moved to sit up straight, bringing both of your hands to the buckle of his belt, stilling them as you opened your mouth to ask if he would let you continue. Before you could even form the question, Alastor was already granting you permission to free it from the agonizing confines of his pants with a feverishly desperate nod; his free hand maneuvering between your bodies to stroke a solitary digit through your folds. "My, my," he chuckled, voice teasing as he pushed his finger past the first ring of muscle of your embarrassingly slick entrance. "We've only just started, and you're already this aroused?" he clicked his tongue against his teeth as he teased you, deriving pleasure and amusement from the pout you gave in response.

"Dirty girl."

"I- ... It's your fault," you chided him, throwing his earlier statement back in his face. "You're the one to blame. So, are you going to help me or not?" you asked him in a mocking tone of voice, sticking your tongue out in the process. Alastor leaned in closer to your face - pretending to go for another kiss, only to lightly sink his teeth into the tip of your tongue and pull it further out of your mouth. "A-ah!" you yelped in surprise just before he wrapped his lips around the already sore muscle, sucking gently to ease the pain for a few moments. When he pulled away, he gave you a playful wink just before adding a second digit to your heated core. "I suppose I could help you," Alastor teased you right back, slowly pumping his digits in and out, careful not to hurt you with the sharpened edges of his nails.

"... But I want to hear you beg for it first."

Before you could react, Alastor pulled himself free of you and yanked you to your feet; spinning you around and forcing you to bend over the edge of his desk with his slender fingers wrapped around the back of your neck - keeping you in place. He used his other hand to wrangle both of yours, holding them together at the wrist and pressing them into the small of your back as he kicked your feet apart.

So now, here you were - bent over the smooth surface of his desk; trapped, exposed, and completely helpless.

"Come now, Mon Cher. Let me hear you beg me to fuck you," Alastor commanded you, releasing your neck and bringing that same hand down to spank against the bare skin of your ass. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden sting of his palm striking your rear, your cheek pressed against the cool wood as you tried to angle your head just right to look back at him. Chewing on your bottom lip as you contemplated his command, you were trying to decide which route was more beneficial: compliance or defiance.

Another slap resounded throughout the room when Alastor struck your bottom again, harder this time as a warning to make up your mind quickly. Deciding that compliance would get you to that first release faster (albeit less fun), you opened your mouth to acquiesce. "P-Please!" you started, "... please, Alastor... I need you..." you whispered shyly, the words somehow making your face heat up even more. But it wasn't good enough, since Alastor smacked your ass again. "You can do better than that," he stated matter-of-factly, rubbing the palm of his hand against the reddened skin where he had struck you. Biting your lip again, you closed your eyes and tried to muster up the courage to say out loud all the thoughts running through your dirty little mind. You hoped no one was nearby to hear any of this (not that Alastor would let them live for very long if they did hear your escapades). Swallowing the saliva that was building up in your mouth, you let out a shaky breath before opening your eyes and craning your neck further back to look at Alastor again.

"Please! Please, please, PLEASE fuck me, Alastor ...! I need it so bad! I wanna feel your cock in me, please! I promise, I'll be good!" you started out, your face now rivaling Alastor's ruby hair in terms of color. "I'll be good, I swear!" you tried to wiggle your hips against his still clothed cock (having only succeeded in undoing the belt buckle and zipper before he whipped you around), only to feel another harsh slap to your ass, warning you to behave. "Please just fuck me- ...! Make me cum on your cock. I wanna cum on your cock! Alastor..." you whimpered, earning a short chuckle from him in response as he slowly began to grind against your backside, providing you with some much needed friction. "Good girl," he murmured while rubbing soothing circles on the red imprint of his hand forming on your ass cheek. Leaning over you so that his lips were right by the edge of your jaw, he let his tongue roll out and run along the length of it until he came to your ear, sharp teeth nibbling at the sensitive lobe.

"Une si bonne fille pour moi."

Alastor stood up straight once again and moved his hand between your bodies, opting to push three of his long digits into your waiting heat this time. He relished in the surprised gasp that escaped you followed by a prolonged moan, curling his fingers slightly as he started to build a pace. "A-Alasss- ...!" you tried to say his name, but the angle that his fingers were pushing in and out of you had you seeing stars even though he had just barely started, his knuckles rubbing against that one spot you always had trouble reaching with your own hand. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your walls clenching around his fingers when you felt his thumb press against your puckered hole. Letting go of your wrists, Alastor brought his now free hand down to grab at your ass and spread your cheeks apart to get a better look; he prodded gently but never pushed past the first ring of muscle. He wanted to but felt it could wait for another time - IF there was another time after this. He didn't want to push your boundaries too far for the first time around.

"Oh, fuuucckk!" you drawled out, eyes fluttering closed as that oh-so-familiar coil began to tighten in your lower abdomen. "That's it, good girl," you heard him praise you, his words causing your muscles to tense further as he pushed you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hips began to roll involuntarily against his hand after a few minutes, your body automatically seeking that sweet, sweet release even faster. "Just like that, ride my fingers just like that," he whispered, the praises he was singing to you making your walls clamp down on his digits even tighter. "O-oh fuck! Ala- ... Alastor! Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum, oh my god!" you cried, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, hands holding a death grip on the edge of his desk.

When you felt Alastor shifting behind you, you opened your eyes and lifted your head slightly to see what he was doing - quickly finding him on his knees and moving in until his mouth replaced his fingers. Alastor let out a loud groan once he finally had a taste of you, tongue rolling out and through your slick folds, drinking in your essence like you were an oasis in the middle of the Sahara Desert. His left hand held your cheeks apart as Alastor licked and slurped and sucked, shaking his head back and forth against your core every few seconds. The tip of his nose tickled your other hole while he used his right hand to rub circles on your clit, his long tongue rolling over your g-spot whenver he would dip it inside you. You could feel your release coming at you like a freight train now, one of your hands shooting back to grab hold of something - his hair, his antlers, anything in an attempt to ground yourself. "Good girl!" his words were muffled as he kept his face pressed against your core, lifting your leg to rest on the desk before returning it to your clit, pressing down harshly on the bundle of nerves.

A loud groan rumbled through his chest as you squeezed the base of his antler, the action causing his cock to twitch and throb, begging to be released from its confines and satiated. "Don't stop, please don't stop!" you begged, your jaw falling open into a silent cry as your release began to crash over you like a tsunami. Alastor drank you in, slurping loudly at the fluids that dripped from your tight cunt, savoring your taste while he struggled to not blow his load before he even had a chance to get inside you. He pressed his face even further against your core, mouth open wide as he swallowed everything your body had to give him. How long had it been since he felt this thirsty - this starved for someone else's touch? Alastor couldn't remember the last time he was this aroused, this fucking hard. What the fuck did the Vees put in that troublesome potion?

As the pleasure coursing through your veins began to subside, your muscles relaxed and your grip on his antler loosened, occasionally tensing once more whenever you felt the tip of his tongue on your throbbing clit or the sharp edge of his teeth glide against your puffy lips. You lowered your head to rest on the polished surface, trying to catch your breath as Alastor pulled back from your heat - enjoying the way your pussy would clench around nothing when he lightly raked his claws over your reddened ass cheek. Picking up his forgotten shirt from before, Alastor used the fabric to wipe what was left of your release from his chin, discarding it after as he rose to his feet. "You did so well for me," he praised you, reaching to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Leaning over your slumped form he let his lips brush against your jaw, then your cheek and then your temple. "Hmm..." you hummed in response, trying not to let the fatigue take over before you could get to the main course. "Do you need a moment? Would you like to stop?" Alastor asked you, taking notice of your display of exhaustion.

Quickly, you turned your head and pushed yourself up. "No! No, I can-" you paused for a moment to stifle a yawn. The incident in the foyer that led to all of this occurred near the end of your workday, so you were fairly tired when this started. The unexpectedly hard orgasm wasn't helping any, but the promise of even more is what kept you going. Besides, you couldn't be the only one having fun here, especially since you had already agreed to help relieve him. "... I can keep going. I wanna keep going," you insisted, lowering your leg as you pushed yourself up straight, turning to face him fully now. "For you," you added, staring up at him with a look so amorous it made his breath hitch in his throat, catching him off guard. Cautiously, you raised your hands to gently cradle his face, standing on your tiptoes so you could place a soft peck on his smiling lips.

Bringing yourself back down to stand proper, you began to trace your hands down his neck and chest, not missing the way his muscles still tensed at your touch. It was going to take some time, you realized, to get him to a point where he welcomed your touch rather than shy away from it. You hoped that he would give you that time, outside of this incident that you so clumsily caused, of course. When your hands reached the waistband of his pants, you looked up at him and waited for his permission to continue - something small and near insignificant but nevertheless something he still appreciated. He would have to reward you for your thoughtfulness later. Nodding his head, Alastor watched as you slowly pushed both his trousers and briefs down past his hips to his knees, eventually falling to his ankles, his aching cock springing from its prison and slapping lightly against his lower abdomen. He looked away for a moment, unable to hide his growing discomfort with being so bare in front of another person.

Gently, you pressed on his jaw with your left hand to bring his narrowed eyes back to your face. "Hey," you called. "You can trust me, Alastor," you assured him, knowing full well that was only part of the problem. Mouth twitching, Alastor stared at you as you leaned in to place tender kisses to his chest, your eyes never once leaving his face as you sank down to your knees before him. "I promise," you spoke, voice gentle, hands tracing the defined muscles of his abs and gliding along the dips of his pelvic v. Bringing one hand up to rest on his thigh, your other gently wrapped around the base of his cock. Humming softly as you smiled up at him, you rubbed your cheek against his length, then grazed your lips over his leaking tip. "I just want to make you feel good," you continued to assure him, catching the shaky sigh he gave in response to your touches. Experimentally, you let the tip of your tongue dart past your lips and against his crying slit, his entire body tensing as one of his hands moved to tangle within your tresses.

You stared up at Alastor with such innocence in your big doe eyes - he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from forcing his cock as far down your throat as it could go. "Is that okay?" you asked after a couple more licks to his slit, savoring the salty taste of his pre dribbling out. "Will you let me make you feel good, Alastor?" you asked him so sweetly, voice dripping with honey as his name rolled off that devilish tongue of yours. You really knew how to push his buttons. With a drawn out moan vibrating through his chest and static crackling through the air, you barely had time to fully open your mouth as he pushed his hips forward and guided your head down until your nose brushed against the carmine strands at his base, his head tilting back at the long anticipated sensation finally washing over him as he breathed out a singular,

"Yes!"

Immediately, you had to fight back the urge to gag and pull away when he pushed your head down. Had it not been for his fingers laced through your hair holding you in place, you would have. You whined at the sudden intrusion, not expecting him to push so much of himself inside your mouth so quickly; his tip nearly hitting the back of your throat. Alastor tried, he truly did, to keep control and allow you some time to adjust, but the explicit desire for release was beginning to cloud his senses now that he had your lips wrapped around his dick. He gave a few shallow thrusts, trying not to go too far before you adjusted to his wide girth. After a few seconds to do just that had passed, you hummed softly as a signal that you were okay to go further now, to pick up the pace - the vibrations sending a couple unexpected shockwaves up his spine. You stared up at him, admiring the way his Adam's apple bobbed slightly when he swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Curling your tongue around his length, you pressed upward as you started to bob your head, sucking lightly and moaning every few seconds to send vibrations through his whole being. "Fuck..." you heard him whisper with each drag of your muscle on the underside of his shaft, keeping one hand wrapped around his base and squeezing lightly the part you were unable to swallow. On occasion, whenever you would pull back far enough, you would angle your head slightly so that his tip would rub against the ridges of your palate upon re-entry, causing him to inhale sharply and clench his hand, tugging on your hair each time.

You could feel his thighs tremble every time you moaned around him, sucking harshly and hollowing your cheeks, pressing your tongue up even harder to create more friction and bring him closer to his orgasm. You slurped and sucked; some drool mixed with precum beginning to froth at the corners of your mouth with each drag. "That's it, that's it," Alastor murmured as he lowered his gaze down onto you. Struggling to keep his release at bay for just a few more minutes, he nearly lost it when he saw that you were still looking up at him with those beautiful wide eyes, tears pricking at the edges and threatening to fall at any moment. "Oh, yes- ... That's my good girl, fuuuccckkk!" he breathed, relishing in the way you tried to breathe through your nose while choking on his cock.

Hearing his moans and praises were such a huge ego boost, so you decided to take it a step further by removing your hand from the base and letting it settle on the side of his thigh. Alastor let out a small grunt of disapproval at the loss of your tight grip and reached to guide your hand back, but he stopped and let his jaw fall open when you pushed yourself further down on his cock, his tip now bullying the back of your throat with each bob of your head, every thrust of his hips. He was so close after only a couple minutes of you sucking him off; he couldn't tell if it was a result of the Love Potion or not being intimate with anyone for a significant amount of time, but he didn't really care. He just knew that his head was going to explode (among other things) if he didn't paint your mouth white and shoot his cum down your throat right fucking now.

You brought your left hand down to cradle his balls and roll them between your fingers, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create some much needed friction. Alastor's breathing was becoming heavier and faster with every second that passed, your tongue now moving back and forth in time with each drag; your messy slurping and moans increasing in volume causing him to see stars. "Goddamn... It feels so good!" he whispered, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth as he brought his other hand to nestle in your messy hair along with the other. Alastor was beginning to lose what little control he had left as his thrusts became more frantic, more wild and frenzied. "F-fff... uuuhh-!" he whined loudly, guiding your head down as he pushed up, your nose lightly slamming against his groin as he began to full on face fuck you.

"Fffu- ...! Oh, fuck yes! Fucking- keep going, just like that! Haahhh- ...!"

You were able to breathe through your nose, but not well enough as the edges of your vision began to go dark; your ears being filled with the sloppy 'glug, glug, glug' sound of Alastor ramming his cock in and out of your mouth at a speed you didn't think possible. Clenching your eyes shut as you let him use you to chase after his high, you tried to focus more on staying conscious only to have Alastor roughly tug on your hair, then lightly slap your cheek until you opened them again. You stared up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes teary and brows furrowed as he let one hand travel down to grip your chin. "Don't you dare look away from me!" he demanded, static rippling through the air and lights flickering, his eyes shifting to radio dials and his red sclera turning black, his grip bruising as his pace quickened. "Mm- ... mmpph!" you tried to hum in response, but the sound was swallowed by the other noises he was dragging out of you.

"Is this what you wanted?" Alastor asked as you tried to keep up with his brutal pace, fat tears now rolling down your cheeks as he began to lose himself in the pleasure you offered him. If you could, you would have nodded, but his tight grip on your hair and chin was making it difficult to do anything else except take it. "Is this what you wanted, darling- mmmpph! ... Wanted me to fuck your face like this? Hm? Is this what you fucking wanted?" he groaned loudly as his climax grew closer and closer, his antlers growing longer and his girth increasing in size with each thrust. His brows were knitted together as his nose scrunched slightly, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening to an almost excruciating degree and ready to snap any second, eyes narrowed and pointed teeth grinding together as he sucked in air quickly with each movement. "Do you want it? Take it like a good girl? Hohhh- shit!" You tried to nod once more, but again his bruising digits held your head in place, so you blinked rapidly at him, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to convey.

"That's it, that's it, take it all- Oh, fuck you're so good for me-! F-fuck, I'm cu-!"

A couple more seconds went by and you were barely holding on when you felt his hips stutter and his grip tighten further on your hair. With one final thrust, Alastor was thrown over the edge as the first ropes of his warm seed shot out and down your throat, holding your face flush against his pelvis. He let out a strangled cry of gratification as he held your head in place, your nose buried in the neatly groomed crimson bush at the base of his shaft. He used the hand that had been holding your chin to catch himself on the edge of his desk, his upper body having lurched forward when his orgasm hit, arched over your kneeling form. His abs flexed with every spurt of his cum, every blissful wave that came crashing down on him, his thighs quivering as he tried to remain upright and catch his breath. He was quite vexed, unsure if it was a lack of intimacy or the results of that drug that caused him to experience such an intense release, but he didn't really care to know right now.

"Mmph! Nngghh!" Alastor heard you humming, his entire body twitching from the overstimulating vibrations as you began to frantically tap at his thighs, trying to get him to let go so you could get some much-needed oxygen into your lungs. He pulled your head back by your hair gently and you started to cough and sputter, chest heaving and drool coating your chin. He took several seconds to catch his breath, as did you, before clicking his tongue in mock disapproval at your messy state (as if he wasn't the reason behind it) - his subtle disposition to passive-aggressively disparage all those around him momentarily breaking through this rarely seen state of vulnerability.

You brought your hands to your face, swiping at the tears that spilled from your eyes with one hand while covering your mouth with the other - a sad attempt at stifling your coughing fit. Alastor untangled his fingers from your messy strands and, in an uncharacteristic display of what most would assume is affection, smoothed them out delicately as he reached to take the hand that was wiping away your tears. He pulled you to your feet before waving his hand through the air, a glass of water manifesting a moment later with a puff of green and black smoke. He offered it to you as your coughing subsided, which you gladly accepted.

"Forgive me, darling. It seems I lost myself in the heat of the moment," Alastor apologized, having regained full control of himself now - the only signs of his uncontrolled frenzy being his shirt and coat lying in a heap nearby and his pants and briefs bunched at his ankles. You took a much-needed swig of the water he had given you, only giving him a small smile in response as you reached to rub your sinuses to ease the pain he unintentionally caused. You wondered if it would cause any petechiae bruising later (it would); what with how rough he had been with you. If it did, you assumed Angel would have SOME type of numbing agent for your throat - or, at the very least a concealer if the bruising formed on your face too.

[ Master Post ] ❀ [ Chapter One ] ❀ [ Chapter Two ] ❀ [ Chapter Three ] ❀ [ Chapter Four ] ❀ [ Chapter Five ]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #x reader #alastor smut #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader smut #smut #synamartia #Haunted Series

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

arepas

javier peña x f!reader

summary: when you’re single, it’s complicated. messy. he can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him.

an: dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing @halfmoth-halfman - i told you that i'd write you something, and here it is. I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile. word count: 9.3k (sorry, not sorry) warnings: developing feelings, slow burn -> colleagues to friends to lovers. usual jo angst, but with lots of banter. fingering, p in v, angst, sweet ending, spoilers for narcos season two.

friend noun /frɛnd/ a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. "she's a friend of mine."

It starts in Bogotá.

His eyes rake over you—the new pretty secretary who won't meet his eyes as though you’d heard all about him.

It's why he waits. Biding his time before gracing your desk. A file in hand, leaning down—forcing your eyes to meet his. Javi's smirk almost eclipses his face, only doing so when you lift your chin and he finds your lips have slid so far up one side as you stare at his hand.

Agent Pe— I know who you are, Peña. Your reputation precedes you. Good things, I hope? Depends on who you ask.

You call him Peña all the time. Even as days slip into weeks, even if he insists you call him Javier or Javi. The tension building, thickening—just like a dish left on a hob.

He’s used to the whispers, but he’s not used to the ignorance. The way you don’t look at him like the others, instead always trying to find out what he needs from you, rather than what he wants.

It allows him the chance to study, to watch. Noticing the way you work, the way you converse easily with others and how you walk around the office like you barely notice him.

It wasn’t through a lack of trying why he hadn’t worsened his reputation. It wasn’t fear of fucking you, of muddying his place of work further—his focus, mission, objective wasn’t to keep the piece inside crumbling Colombian walls. It was more that the fact his usual tactics weren’t working even when his intention was there, clear as the sky on a sunny morning.

You seemed stressed. Aren’t we all, Peña? I know how to get around that… I’ve heard.

It’s not that your tongue is quick or icy—it’s that you do it all without looking at him. You bite back without lifting your eyes or turning to him when he stands beside you. An indifference he had usually woven under in the time you’ve been here, but finding troublesome with you.

So, he tries smiling when smoke swirls around the ceiling fan, and you drop a file off; he drops his voice when he bumps into you by the water machine, holding your sight—commanding it. Which is why he notices the irritation simmering in yours. Growing, and grating more so by his mere breath, never mind his words.

You don’t like me much. I don’t know you. You could. Know me. What would be the point, Peña? You don’t listen, you interrupt everyone, you fuck everything with a pulse— Tell me how you really feel, hermosa. I’m trying, but once again, you’re only half listening.

Determined—that’s how he was often described.

It was, for this reason, that he has poured so many of his years into catching Escobar. Why he’d looked for whores to get information, not banking on caring and emotions. It’s why he hadn’t looked for anything outside of a quick fuck, a friend, or a sense of belonging—he didn’t have another ounce left in him. It was all spent on the reason he was here: narcos.

There had been others, naturally. Not all bent to his charm, even if the majority did. He should add you to the list, to the small pile that had amassed through the building and beyond.

Javi doesn’t.

And it doesn’t get better, easier. You decline his invites for drinks, even if you do begin to aid him. You refuse grabbing food for lunch with him, even if you have started taking paperwork off him to type up. You’ve even begun making comments, funny ones about his typing abilities, even shooting him a smile as you travel back to your desk. Yet, you don’t even let him drive you home when your car isn’t working.

Purposefully, you’re a bag of mixed messages. Not because you decline him but because he cannot find a rational reason as to why. You’ve begun moving his paperwork up, but you flirt back. Flimsy, thin excuses find your tongue quicker when he invites you to drinks, not even just with him.

You’re confusing. A brand of difficult he hadn’t had the opportunity to circle before, something which bothers the shit out of him.

Which is why he’s coating his throat in whiskey—getting through his pack of Marlboro’s quicker than he usually would be in a bar like this.

Because, while he doesn’t get you, he hates work functions more. Despising with each growing minute that he’s at one.

He prefers to choose his company—paid or unpaid. And the sole reason he’d even gone in the first place was to get you to stop calling him Peña—and to keep the CIA away from you.

He ends up being successful at one of those things. It’s not that he wasn’t sure how to befriend women, just that he usually chooses not to. He ruins any possibility of it by turning on the charm, having their blouse in his fingers and his hand stuffed in their lace. Even for all his charm, it is hard to get them back on his side when he doesn’t call them, or mistakenly calls out the wrong name or avoids them.

It’s why he knows his name is dirt amongst several secretaries. He’s aware of how gossip spreads like wildfire amongst the secretaries, receptionists, file room assistants, watching it happen as their eyes glisten when he walks past, their whispers dropping an octave when he is within ears reach.

You don’t partake in it. Digging your pretty eyes into him rather than fluttering your eyelashes. You can put those puppy-dog eyes away, Peña. I’m immune to putas. You can wait like everyone else. Chin lifting at the last second, smothering him in stifled stress and a please-don't-push-me-look. It’s how he learnt you were going for drinks with the CIA, how he discovered the bar and time.

Why he went in the first place.

It crossed his mind this could be the night. He could keep you company, find a way in when your wall was down because of the liquor on your tongue. The moment fizzled when he chose to be a gentleman—helping you into his car, guiding you into your place. Even holding your hair back as you vomited the contents of your stomach out. Maybe he should have warned you about doing shots with Jacoby in the first place, but then, he wouldn’t be alone with you.

See the way you put your weapons down and looked at him pitifully when you couldn’t get the key in your door.

I’ve got you, Bonita. Bet you say—hiccup—that to all the whores. You’re not a whore. No. No, I’m not.

He’d expected you to push him, fight him once inside your place, but you were silent. Occasionally frowning with glossed-over eyes as he continued to help you. You even allow him to help you to bed—without so much as removing his clothes. He’d been almost out of your bedroom door when he heard it:

Still gonna call you Peña, Peña. I know, bonita. There’s a glass of water on your table.

It played on his mind.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be chivalrous, just that it was rare. Stuffed down into his tight jeans and under layers of Colombian grief. While he cares about the people in his life, even the ones at arms reach—the ones he pays and the ones he takes home from a hard day—he doesn’t show it. Keeping it tightly wrapped and away, not willing to let simple and futile emotions blur the lines of why he was here.

So it surprises him when you leave him a thank you.

A small note on his desk attached to a bottle containing amber and a large packet of Marlboros.

Still think you’re an asshole, Peña.

It was the worst thank you note he’s ever had, yet it made him smile. Unthreads annoyances of his day, sewing in a piece of niceness in a tapestry of shit.

What he did know is that the window of sleeping with you was growing smaller, only fully shutting on him when he uncapped the bottle and poured you a glass when you knocked on his door for his signature. The small office he resided in—all dark, simmering with disappointment and failure after another dead end. Not that you commented on it—even if your eyes narrowed and your lips spread thin.

You were polite like that. Didn’t call into question or hold a mirror up to him. Just let him be. Tapping your glass against his, his eyes watching as you take a sip—not hissing, not flinching as the taste slides down your throat. Not even when it collects somewhere in your stomach. If anything, you smile.

Running his hand along his chin, letting his eyes roam as you take in the walls—the files. Your glass teetering on your bottom lip, painted in a shade he wanted staining on various parts of his body—

“Surprised you’re having a drink with me, Peña,” you say, all airy and light—glancing over your shoulder, shining him in mischievous twinkles. “Especially when you could be… paying for better company.”

He snorts at that, lets a laugh escape—puncture the air. “You know, you bring it up so often, bonita. I’m beginning to think you’re jealous.”

“Not in the slightest—I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Two night stands?” He muses.

And you smirk. Gloriously. Wide and large, the closest he’s gotten you to smile. “If it’s good enough to go back again, why stop at twice?”

He struggles for a retort, the acidic nature of it being swallowed by whiskey as he raises his glass to his lips.

Then it shifts the conversation. Returns to normal, safer topics, finding he snorts a few more times as the drinks flow. Even finding you pull a rich laugh from him—one that erases some of the tension, unknots his shoulders from his ears.

It isn’t until he hears the sweetness of your laugh that he finds that a quarter of the bottle has gone. The paper you’d come in to have signed, still at the top of a forgotten pile.

You weren't looking, having already turned your back to him, eyes fixed on the wall—the little pins and photos. Allowing him to run his eyes along your back, to your clothe-covered hips and the curves that had been front and centre of his thoughts when he fucked his fist. Your name has been simmering on his tongue for weeks, since you’d been introduced.

Something stopping him from acting on his thoughts, from standing up and coming up behind you. That very thing being the foundation of what he’d been after from the start.

“Am I still an asshole, bonita?” He asks when he finally signs the sheet.

You take the paper, offering a softer smile with a head tilt. “We should drink in your office again. You’re less of one in here, Javi.”

“It’s cheaper.” “Cheaper?” You groan, and he slides his hand over his face to hide his smile. “Fine, Peña—“ “Javi. Come on, bonita. We made progress.” Glaring, you straighten your spine. “Javi, I wanna eat greasy food in a baggy t-shirt and watch shit TV that I can only partially keep up with. Do you want to do that with me?” How could he say no? “Do I have to eat greasy food?” “Yes. It’s the law.” Snorting, he picks up the file, tapping the end of your desk. “I’ll be there around nine.”

You’re everywhere.

He begins finding you at his favourite food stand, conversing with the owner, grin so large it hits your eyes. Another time, you’re at the shop on the corner near his place, brown bag in hand, a knowing nod sent his way when you pass.

It throws him off, continuing to do so until it changes, and he comes to expect you. Doesn’t brace or freeze, but welcomes you. Leaning into it that you’re there, everywhere he doesn’t expect you to be. Slowly, bleeding across his life, planting yourself in the soil he hadn’t known surrounded him.

Your name falls from his lips with simplicity, you call him Javi as though it’s all you’ve ever called him.

Things shifting, changing just like the temperature in Bogotá. He chooses to sit beside you when he spots you at the bar, and not close to the table who were giggling and whispering at his arrival. He opts to ask you for help, over the secretary who has been giving him heart-shaped eyes since she heard something or another.

Javi is smart, and isn't an idiot. He knows it has shifted. Changed.

For the better, he isn’t entirely sure.

He finds comfort in you in a way he doesn’t usually pay for. The desire to fuck you because you were attractive lessening, and rather because, on some level, he suspected he actually liked you. Especially when you invited him for drinks at yours, instead of a bar.

It was easier not to question it. To not change. To not ask and ruin it. He went round to yours, or you to his. A gap forming, welcomed and strong. Javi fucked who he wanted to fuck, and sought companionship (fully clothed, a glass of liquor variation in hand) from you. The contents of it shifted depending entirely on the situation. Sometimes, it was accompanied by home-cooked food, and sometimes he brought warm trays in a bag that you groaned in appreciation upon arrival.

Javi told himself you reminded him of Laredo. Of high-school friends and easy laughter. You reminded him of girls who never became more than friends, the ones he’d grown apart from when they settled and married, and he ran as far away as possible.

That and he just liked your company. You made it easy. You were his… Friend.

You were something different than what he had with Carillo. Something other than the partnership he was now bedding in with Murphy.

You had embedded yourself as much in work as you were out of it. As time ticked on, his brain slowly filled with useless information about likes and dislikes in a drawer in his mind, he marked just for you. They weren’t things he usually didn’t care to know about anyone. Not since he’d been in Colombia. Not since he’d been in Laredo, where he’d never been short of a friend to two.

Being your friend became a thing he suddenly wanted to cling to. Not wanting to lose it—lose you, not wanting to fuck it up.

So, he didn’t.

Even if you looked at him with pretty eyes, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip. Even if sometimes the silenced humming with something different, something less friendly.

He cared.

Really cared. He found himself annoyed if you seemed a little off, and found himself wanting to make you smile. The two of you spread past the line into an area out of his usual wheelhouse. Friendship. A relationship that had him around your place so many nights a week, tucking into spirits and beer you’d begun keeping just for him. It was normal. Nice.

Or it was, until you curled into one side of the sofa, him on the other. Your foot isn’t close to his thigh, no leg draped over his—your behaviour not like normal.

He’d put it down to another shit date. One he’d been tortured with hearing about—the only downside to the arrangement, the friendship.

But, as you wrap your fingers around your calf, he realises it isn’t the date, the bad food or the day.

“Being your friend is kinda hard.”

Frowning, he sits up a little more. “Why?”

You shrug. He doesn’t like it when you do. You have answers, usually quick ones. A shrug meaning you don’t or you’re afraid of speaking them—letting them ball and fester in your throat.

“‘Cause you do thoughtful shit, and it makes me think things.”

He bites his smirk, and savours it. Knowing and understanding more than he can acknowledge as he folds his arms. “Not a smart move, thinking about me, hermosa.”

“Don’t I know it.”

"Bonita...."

"Why'd you call me that?"

You don't ask it rudely, more questionably. Brows knitting together in confusion as you watch him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not in the slightest."

He smirks, letting out a sharp laugh. "Go get another drink, bonita."

“So, the two of you haven’t… you know?” Leaning in the chair, he stares at him. “No. We haven’t.” “I don’t believe you?” Smirking, he shifts his hips. “Go ask her. She’ll say the same.” He snorts. “You’re telling me you go round her place, have fun, laugh, and leave—I don’t believe it.” “Believe it, Murphy.”

It’s hard not to call back to the words spoken that night.

Let them loop around and around, wrap themselves around other phrases—micro-expressions and bothersome avoidance.

Your eyes were dark, chin resting on your knee, looking at him as though you wanted to burn everything to the ground. He’d swallowed, and hesitated—two things he never did.

But with you, he wasn’t exactly himself.

You had found a way to unlock a part of him he kept away from everyone else. He was still an asshole, still selfish and cocky. But he also bit back more around you and found ways to annoy you playfully, rather than to piss you off.

“Here.”

“You bought me a book?”

He smirks, gripping his arms as he watches you turn it over, “You like reading.”

Smirking, you scan the blurb, your brain trying to translate it quickly. “What gave you that impression?”

Shrugging, he trails a finger across his bottom lip. The signature smirk started growing, spreading, eclipsing whatever was there previously.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hermosa. I see you reading on your lunch.” He looks you up and down. “Thought you could do with some fresh material.”

“So you bought me a romance book.”

Dropping his arms, he rolls his lips. “Everyone needs a little romance in their life, don’t they?”

“Well, you’re the expert. I hear you’ve been getting some “romance” nightly,” you smirk, placing the book down.

He had.

Almost determined to do so. Needing to bury himself to the hilt in others to distract him from you. Secretly thinking of you, trying to imagine the way your skin would feel under his calloused palms.

“Jealous, bonita?”

Smiling, you tilt your head. “Why? I’ve got a romance book.”

He tries to tell himself he’s not affected by you.

That it’s protectiveness why he sits at the bar in the restaurant you’re in. Why he chooses a seat where he can see the reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, able to see you without watching you.

He tells himself it’s to ensure you’re okay. Nothing else. The convincing goes well until your finger taps him on the shoulder, practically dragging him outside by his elbow.

The cooler temperature bites his skin, but your eyes full of fire keep him warm. Digging into him, inflicting flames that lick at muscle and bone.

“Why are you here, Peña?”

He masks a shudder. “Don’t… don’t call me, Peña—“

“—you fucked all the whores?”

“I was drinking.”

Raising your brow, you fold your arms. “You’re ruining my date.”

He lets his eyes drop. Knowing he is. He knew he would when he scrunched the piece of paper in his hand as he overheard you talking about some black dress and little heels for it.

The same ones you’re standing in front of him in, looking nothing short of radiant—the slightest shiver misting over you.

“You deserve better.”

Folding your arms, you sigh. “What, like you?”

He runs a hand over his chin, leaning against the wall. “No, bonita. Better than me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, the shiver more obvious. So much so, he removes his jacket, considering draping it over you, but instead hands it to you.

“Look, I know I ruined your date, but he’s an asshole.”

Swallowing, you let out a heavy breath. “I’m mad at you, but… he really is awful.”

He smothers his relief. Ensures his tone is normal as he murmurs, “Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Can you… could y—“

“Go get your bag, hermosa.”

It’s quiet, the car ride.

Your knee nervously bounces, the fabric of your dress rising up your thigh as you do.

He’s being tested. He’s sure of it. Adamantly so when he pulls up outside yours, and you invite him in. It’s confirmed when you tell him to help himself while you change, stepping into your room.

A version of him wanting to follow. To place his hand on the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin up, kissing the name of your date tonight. Pulling your body close, making it forget it ever shivered from anything less than pleasure.

He thinks about it as he fills his glass, and keeps yours empty. Javi thinks it as his jeans become tight and his pulse quickens, wondering if you sprayed your perfume anywhere other than your neck and wrist—whether you’d taste as sweetly as you say his name. Whether you’d dig your nails in when he stuffed you full of him—

“Not pouring me one?”

Blinking, you’re in his T-shirt and some leggings.

The former is something you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on your blouse. A band tee, one from a concert when he was younger and happier, and less confused what the fuck all of this meant.

He hadn’t realised how much he had been holding himself back until you sank onto your sofa, looking serious—brows and forehead creasing.

It made him want to nurse it out of you, find a solution to stop you from worrying or overthinking.

“You’ve never tried to sleep with me.”

He scoffs, loud and undignified. The sentence catches and cuts through the air. All the letters of it punctuated by a thin silence, lightly chopped—not allowing interjection or regret.

You're waiting.

Nervously. Plucking your bottom lip between your white teeth like you’re picking guitar strings.

He considers telling you the truth. That fucking you had been the sole and only intention for a long time. Seeing if you could bend in two, what noises you would make—see if he could get you to chant his name.

That had been his goal… until it wasn’t.

Javi drains his glass, knowing you’re astute. That you work with agents of all kinds—you hold your fucking own around all sorts of them. So you know (of course you know) when someone is lying—so he offers something else entirely.

A slither of truth, an offering of it—if that.

“Didn’t wanna fuck this up, bonita.”

You take a sip of your own, not smiling, not smirking. Silence thumps between the two of you as you likely process the information, both in word form and in heavy silence. Then you land your eyes on him, something blossoming in them, spreading and taking over as they seemingly darken like the sky before a storm.

“That because you don’t think you could make me come, Peña?”

He spreads his palm against his jeans, resting the glass against his other as he drags his eyes to the floor. Biting the inside of his cheek. Wondering to himself why he’d stopped trying so quickly, knowing he was usually much more persistent. His perseverance was why he was still here, hunting Escobar. Yet, he’d folded like a piece of fucking paper when it came to you.

“Fine,” you commented, placing your glass down. “If we… don’t want to fuck this up. I think we need a codeword. An unsexy one. One that sorta tells the other to stop doing whatever they’re fucking doing….”

“Because…?”

You give him a look, a sharp one with soft edges. “Because we’re friends, right?”

He nods.

“So, as friends, I need a word to shout at you when you’re… Peñaring.” Frowning, he watches you smirk. “Javi, you’re handsome. And I spend… I spend more time with you than anyone else. The whole time I was on that date, I was thinking of you—and then there you fucking were. Being my friend.”

No. He thinks.

Knowing inside of him he wasn’t there to be your friend, but something he can’t quite acknowledge. A thing which vibrates inside of him, that gallops when you’re around and worsens when you’re not.

A thing he cannot give into. Not with what he does.

Not with what happened to Helena…

The remembrance, the horrid wake-up call that continues to paralyse him. The larger need to keep you safe.

“You like whores and quick-fucks. I like fucking one person who will only fuck me while they’re fucking me. And, I need the word—a word—because we spend a lot of time together, and you look like you do.”

His lip twitches, his moustache moving as he drags his eyes back to you. Unsure how you haven’t thrown it out there that you looking the way you do is also a problem.

As though you’re ignoring how fucking sinful you always look—especially in his fucking clothes.

He doesn’t because, if anything, he doesn’t hate the idea. Not immediately. Somewhat struggling to hide the way you make his cock twitch when you flirt, when you lean on his desk, the top two buttons undone on your blouse. That he sometimes fucks and wishes it was you and not the woman he’s chosen.

The two of you toeing the line of being friends to the point it sometimes makes his head hurt and his cock throb.

“What you got in mind?”

“Apuñalarme?”

He shouldn’t be surprised you’d thought of a word. Always methodical, always thinking ahead.

“Thinkin’ that one could be taken the wrong way.”

Frowning, you reach forward for some of the leftovers. “How?”

He stares, and then he swallows. “Well, I could stab you with my co—“

“OKAY. Fine. Who knew it would be so hard to pick a word to keep our friendship intact? What about… arepa?”

Taking a sip of his drink, his brow slowly arched.

“Well, it’s food—“

“Food can be sexy, bonita.”

“Yes, but if I said arepas, I don’t think: fuck me, Peña—I think fuck I could really eat some stuffed arepas with my friend Peña. Plus, we can then use it around people, ‘cause they’ll just think I’m after food.”

He plays with the glass, staring at your coffee table as he takes it in. Considering it. Finding it plausible—a good enough excuse. A thing to say other than ‘I don’t wanna hear about you going on a date, bonita’—probably around the same as you don’t wanna hear about his conquests.

You’re nervous, teeth picking at your skin.

Something blooming in his chest, smothering warmth across his heart and skin. You want to be his friend—you want him in your life.

“Alright, bonita, let’s give it a go.”

You pout, sighing. “You driving me home?” “Arepas.” “Funny, Peña. So funny.” “You made the rule, bonita.” Rolling your lips, he watches as you fold your arms under your dress. The fabric flows, blowing around your legs. “I can make this hard for you.” “That so?” He should have guessed it from the smirk alone. “I’m not wearing any underwear,” you say, pulling on his door handle and stepping in before slamming it. Leaving him processing, eyes staring at where you’d just been standing.

It became complicated in Medellín.

The routine, the lines—the friendship.

Everyone is forced all under one roof. The closer proximity means he has to listen to how the others talk to you, how you smile, and how you laugh with every single person. He can’t avoid your laugh—especially the ones you force from bad jokes. Javi has to listen to how others talk about you and how they describe the way they look at you.

He also has to deal with how your perfume simmers in the air here, how it lingers and clings, even if he does his best to drown it out with smoke.

In truth, he knows he is just annoyed that you’re even there, to begin with. And, not in Bogotá—where you would have been safer.

And, as annoying as he finds it, Javi supposes you must suffer through your fair share. His eyes catch yours when someone has called for him, his voice low, a smirk halfway up his face until he sees you ducking your head.

At the end of the first few days, he realises he misses his evenings with you back in Bogotá. Now, he has to share you in the open office space or hope you’re both free to go to one of the shitty bare rooms you’d both been given.

Yours at least was more private, Messina having fought for you to have your own as soon as you were relocated to her.

“Jealous, Peña?” “Yes, hermosa. You don’t have to share with Murphy.”

It worsens when he learns you’re single again.

You populate his thoughts all over again, having previously stifled them when he knew you were taken. Now that the few month-long situation-ship with someone from the president's building had ended, he found you half a bottle of wine down in your room with several sad Spanish songs.

When you’re single, it’s complicated. Messy.

He can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him. Before, he could convince himself that flirting is just how the two of you talk. He could comment slyly how he could give you a reason to be silent or him unable to tear his eyes off you when you bend down to get him something from the bottom shelf.

Even if you’re taken, he thinks arepas repeatedly as you look up at him with wide eyes and gloss-covered lips. But, it’s harmless when you’re unavailable—a foundation of who the two of you were. Now it was confusing again.

Especially when you begin wearing tight jeans. And you wait until Murphy leaves to pull his chair across and place a bottle on his desk.

“I need to get drunk.”

Blowing into a spare mug, Javi slams it down next to the bottle. “We can’t leave the base.”

“No, we cannot.”

“Any reason as to why you wanna get drunk?”

You uncap the bottle, glaring at him as you clamp your lips together. The sound of alcohol sloshing into the mug before you begin pouring him one.

“Hermosa…”

You take a mouthful from the mug, flicking your eyes to him as he leans back, whispering your name.

“I’m frustrated.”

“Messina busting your—“

“Not like that, Javi.”

It takes him a second.

A second too long for him, and then he almost chokes on his drink. “Arepas.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back in Murphy’s chair. “You asked.”

His thoughts run ahead of him. The idea of pressing you against the desk, hooking a finger in a belt loop as he tugs your tight jeans to your thighs. The way you’d moan his name—not Javier, Javi. Your hands splayed across his desk, taking everything he—

“—so I need to get drunk because otherwise, I’m going to jump someone, because this job is stressful, and I miss my place, my… privacy, and I also miss food truck nights.”

Swallowing, he places his mug down.

“I need to have sex—“

“—Arepas—“

“But by someone who won’t lord it over me.”

You stare at your mug, swirling it—biting the bottom of your lip as you do.

And he’s all set to tell you that you drive him crazy, that he’d make you feel good—you just have to ask. His hand slides across the desk, all set to tug your hand closer as he mumbles it.

Then fucking Murphy arrives.

Him slamming a mug down next to the bottle, muttering about crashing the party as he massages his temple and slides back into his chair.

It consumes him. The thoughts which he has let run free in the brief moment with you. How he’d fill you and make you hiss his name and make you come undone until you had no thoughts left.

If he thinks he’s alone, you show your cards when he’s helping you move your bed.

Your eyes are on him as he leans against the metal frame, staring off as he processes how he will have to move it. He doesn’t notice that the edge of his tan shirt has risen until he feels your eyes on him.

“Arepas!”

He flinches, ripped from his thoughts as he blinks, turning to look at you, watching you shift on the spot, a slow realisation coming to him as to why you shouted it. A smirk so large spreading, not even trying to hide it.

“I haven’t… I haven’t even fuckin’ done anything.”

You fold your arms, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks, the pulse in your ears. “Yes, well… I’ll move the bed myself.”

“Bonita?”

“—I gotta go—“

“This is your room.”

But you’re already heading to the door, flustered. He calls your name, but you’re gone—leaving him with only your scent and the last trailing sound of your voice.

For a second, staring at the empty doorway, not hating it for one minute, all of it evidenced by the growing smirk on his face.

The one not easily rid, even by the end of the day.

“Your room is…. nice?” He sniggers, grabbing his jacket as you stand awkwardly. “Y’alright, bonita?” Swallowing, you narrow your eyes when they land on him. Not cutting, but assessing. “Why have I heard from two separate people that they’ve been warned from me?” Shrugging his shoulders, he slides his arms into his jacket, frowning—painting it on thickly, maybe even by too much. “Javi.” “What?” You look at him, challenging him. Looking every bit like the secretary he met in Bogotá and less like the friend he’s come to know you as. “Did you warn people from asking me out?” Adjusting his jacket, he sighs. “Yeah. I did.”

Javi knows many things about you.

Some he has learnt against his will, others he’s learnt from watching you. One thing he knows, more than anything else, is that you’re never late. Not even if the world was on fire.

It’s why it coils inside him when he’s standing at the stairwell waiting for you. It chills him, prickles something inside. And then, it knots as his watch ticks on ripples out as more seconds become minutes.

He must shift, stress rolling off of him as he finds Steve’s brow raised, flicking his eyes up at him before shaking his head.

“Go on. I’ll let Messina know you’re both on your way.”

He doesn’t thank him, even if he makes a note to do so later. His feet taking the steps two at a time. Palm brushes over people as he moves them so he can get to your door quicker.

It’s his sole thing, a crystallising focus that glimmers like a goal, a light around your door as he makes a beeline for it. For you. Not slowing or stopping until he’s outside of it, his knuckles hammering into it.

He tries not to smirk at the expletives he hears, the mix of English and Spanish coming from the other side. The beautiful blend he’s heard so often when you’ve dropped food, wine or burnt yourself.

“One minute—“

“It’s me, bonita.”

He expects to hear a noise. Javi doesn’t expect a pause. A lengthy one.

“Oh.”

Oh? He thinks.

“Um, Javi, just gimme….”

It bubbles.

It fucking roars. It produces steam and fire—all of it feeling a lot like jealousy. Because: do you have someone in there with you? His jaw tightens at the idea, almost snapping into pieces, hammering against his feet. He hears a loud crash to the floor, shattering. His mind conjures images of two pairs of feet (at best), two awkward souls trying to move around one another littered by a sea of expletives and hisses.

“Bonita… open the f—door.”

He doesn’t mean to use a tone. Unable to cage it, the fury which doubles and triples inside of him. Only just about managed to stifle the word fucking from being in the sentence.

Javi regrets it when you rip open your door, standing with more skin on show than he’s ever seen. Your privacy is covered by the thinnest pieces of black lace possible—lace that would be easy to snap, to rip from you as he drags his eyes up and down.

Unable to think; unable to process—

“I overslept.”

“…Bonita…”

“I am running late.”

“I can see that.”

You jab him, light, making your body twist as you do. Something he can’t tear his eyes from, least of all when you turn, his feet following. It’s autopilot as he shuts your door behind him, not hearing another person—the anger and jealousy simmering at knowing you’re alone.

You’re just… in your underwear.

Around him.

“Arepas.”

“What?” you call out, bending down, grabbing clothes as he averts his eyes.

His brain forces his feet to come to a stop, his hand adjusting himself as he tries to swallow. Because whatever he’d imagined you’d look like, has just been beaten—you’re… fucking gorgeous.

“Nothing,” he manages, staring around your place. Finding a bottle of half-drunk wine on the desk—sat beside one glass. “You had a fun night without me?”

You laugh, turning to face you, finding you with trousers on. “I… I’m struggling to sleep… here.”

He can relate.

“How was Gabby?”

He pulls a face, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah—she’s fine.”

You fasten your blouse, moving towards him, closer and closer, until you’re in front of him, and his mind is fucking blank.

“You’re standing over my shoes, Javi.”

It shouldn’t stick to him—your words. But they do. How they’re sickly sweet, how they clag and cling to the edges of his mind as he tries to concentrate. He’s typing, and then he’ll replay it, fingers pausing on the heavy keys of the typewriter.

Fuck.

Not able to tear his fucking eyes off of you. Not that you have noticed. You barely look his way with the mountain of shit Messina’s given you to do in one day. Hammering down on you, reminding them all they can’t make mistakes—more so since the toilet debacle. The heaviness of how close they’d been weighed on them. All of them.

So close.

He watches you stand up, calling after someone as you do a little run in your heels until there’s none of you left to watch. Staring at where you’d been, somehow still flickering between seeing you the way he saw you this morning and the well-put-together version just in here.

“What’s up with you?

“Nothing.”

Steve snorts, leaning against the wall. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘cause you look like—“

“She answered the door in her fuckin’ underwear.”

Steve widens his eyes, pulling out his cigarettes. “And that’s something you’ve not seen before?”

He glares. Chewing a retort as he furiously stubs out his cigarette.

“Alright, so, now what?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Your word come in use?”

He shoots another glare, watching his partner hold his hands up.

“Not fucking helping, Murphy.”

“The fuck you mean she was sent to take some papers?” Him storming out of the building, hearing Murphy close behind. Not thinking. Thumb brushes over his fingers as something surges through him. Thumping. Building. Pushing past people, moving out of the way from the ones he comes into contact with, stepping out into the warm air as he sees hell. Men bleeding, carried by other men. His heart in his throat, furiously pounding, unsure where to start, where to go— Then he sees you. Time slows, people coming to a halt as he watches you and his feet begin to move. His hands guide him past people, walking and walking until he pulls you close—not caring for the blood on his shirt from your head, or the way you whimper when you crash into him. He meets your eyes, staring into them, finding his throat dry as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Arepas.” “Arepas…” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

When it rains, it pours.

It’s what he thinks as he sinks another glass, elbowing digging into the desk, all set to shout at Messina to leave him alone, suspecting she had returned.

But then, he’d seen you.

Face lit up by the yellowing light, a softness to your features and a shyness to your frame.

Javi isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Whether the guilt would shift at the sight of you, whether the sadness would stop laying on thickly.

For a second, nothing happens.

He doesn’t move. You don’t move.

And then he’s standing, and you’re crossing the room, pulling him close, hands around him as you keep him close. It’s friendly, he thinks—suspects. A simple hug. Something the two of you have done only a handful of times, but twice so recently.

In the fog of regret and alcohol, he can barely convince himself, his grip on it lost when you’re in his lap. His face in your neck, bathed in you—the distinct scent which clings to some of his clothes, the warmth he feels when he knows he shouldn’t.

It’s easy, simple—and also everything.

Shards of himself held in place by your grip on him, his own hand placing the glass down so he can clutch you that much tighter.

It isn’t him. A thing he’s acutely aware of, yet he buries his face into your neck. Breath dancing along your neck, feeling you still, wondering if you’re thinking the word as he is when you pull back, eyes meeting his.

“Oh, Javi…”

He chews his tongue, lessening his hold on you. Allowing you to move—giving you free rein to leave.

“Messina send you?”

You stand, tilting the bottle beside the glass, staring at the label. Your silence fills the gaps, finding the cracks of regret and guilt, layering itself thickly in it.

Answer me, he thinks. Almost wanting to command it.

“Boni—“

“No,” you say, curt, sharp.

Your eyes dig in, taking a step back, running the back of your hand over your forehead.

“Didn’t… I haven’t even seen her.”

He could speak, but it would be useless. No words can conjure that would make any of it okay—heaviness adding in bulk to his shoulders as he stands. Making his legs feel like jelly and his spine wanting to bend.

And then, he’s walking towards you, your back meeting a wall as he presses you against the wall, keeping you close. Just like you were minutes ago.

He traces the tip of his nose against your cheek, catching the scent of your perfume. Your eyes are on him, watching his movements as he places his hand on your hip.

“Arepas…”

He snorts, pressing his forehead softly against yours. “You want me to stop, bonita?”

Your lips twitch, eyes flicking.

A thousand thoughts dashing and darting in the shades he has memorised. Then you’re moving closer, mouth delicately pressing against his—testing, teasing. Saying no wordlessly.

It’s easy to return it, to give in—to kiss you like he has thought about since your name fell from your lips. A thousand missed moments and building will-they-won’t-they slamming into the both of you.

It’s why it shifts, his mouth not being gentle, his grip more desperate. His tongue sliding past your teeth, your hips flush against his as you curl your fingers into his hair.

He’s on fire. Scorched. Changed.

Flashes of you standing in the doorway in your underwear blending with the feel of you right now, how your lips move against his like the two are you well-versed in kissing one another.

“Dreamt about you, bonita.”

You murmur at his words, whimpering at his teeth, latching on the space under your lobe and neck.

“Thought of the sounds I’d make you make….”

“Fuck, Javi...”

Your nails dig into his neck, pulling and twisting him so you can marry your lips back to his. You kiss him like you want to conquer him, and own him. Something you’ve done since the moment you met—something he responds with how he licks into your mouth. Just pausing at your moan, tasting it—capturing it.

Your lips part as you clutch his cheek, breath ghosting as he lets dark brown wash over you. “I’m here. I’m here, Javi.”

He knows what you mean, what you’re implying: I’m here, you need someone, I’m yours.

The sound of him swallowing sounds louder, sharper—even against his ears as he flicks his sight over you. You’re better than it, better than him. You’re too good, too perfect—something he doesn’t want to break, snap or ruin.

Sometimes, you’re the only thing that feels untouched, unblemished. You were the one who saw him after he’d gotten back from the brothel. When Carillo…

He blinks, finding your fingers still on his cheek, eyes still on him—but he’s unsure if he’s misheard you. Misunderstood.

You don’t do quick fucks.

But you’re clever. You’re always fucking clever. Kissing him, hooking a finger in a belt loop, pulling him flush. As you show him that you mean it.

“Need you, Javi. Just you.”

He growls, moving you to push you down on the awkward, creaking bed. He watches dumbfounded as your fingers begin to aid the removal of your clothes. Exposing skin, inch by inch, to him—looking every bit inviting as you have done since the first day he fucking met you.

Throwing your trousers to some distant corner, he parts your knees with his waist, pushing the damp green lace to the side, as he coats his finger in your want.

“Javi…”

“You suit green, bonita.”

He eases a finger in, watching your mouth part as he does.

“But, I can’t stop picturing that black set.”

“Like it, did you?”

It’s breathy, desperate. Your lips ghost over his as he stiffens, pausing his ministrations, needing to look you in the eyes.

“It’s all I’ve thought about since, bonita.”

Leaning over, he captures your moan, sliding in another finger as his name vibrates against his lips. Your eyes are so full of adoration, lust and want—it almost shatters him—but it’s the desperation that coils around him. The neediness which is falling from your lips makes him want more.

He’s thorough, listening to your whines, finding each place inside you that makes you twitch and moan. He’s learning you, studying every inch, so he can please you from the get-go—if he ever gets the chance again.

It’s his knuckle that undoes you the first time, rolling quick circles around the bundle of nerves which has fingers in his hair and your breath against his cheek.

Javi, fuck—you, Javi, you.

His breathing is shallow when you come down, feeling your hands—shaky but determined—tugging him to join you in being naked, his hand grabbing the one thing he needs outside of you.

“Wanna taste you, but need to fuck you, bonita. Can I? Can I fuck your pretty pussy?”

You groan, kissing his jaw and his neck. A chorus of yes and pleases bless his skin as his teeth rip the wrapper, fingers expertly sliding it over his length to not waste time.

And then, your fingers leave bruises as you tug on his chin, pulling his eyes to you. A thought rolls, building; Tell me I’ve not ruined this. That I’ve not fucked up another thing.

“Yours, Javi. I’m yours.”

His hand clutches your cheek, fingers pressing against your ear and hairline as you nod. His mouth smothers yours, stealing a moan, air and whatever thoughts were trying to populate. He does so as he lines himself up with you, when you wrap him in warm bliss.

Your fingers on his shoulders, digging in, please move, Javi. And then, his hips move with yours, something swelling inside of him, a thing which makes it hard to stop kissing you, to ever want to stop being between your thighs—

He doesn’t usually fuck like this.

It starts that way, but never ends that way—and yet here he is. Never with them on their backs, eye to eye, lip to lip. But then, you’ve never been them. You’re nothing like them.

And he won’t move, can’t. He slides his tongue past your teeth and grips your hip that bit tighter as he feels your walls grip him desperately.

“Feel so good, Javi—y’fuck me so good.”

He knows.

Knows because you’re fucking heavenly—perfection sent just for him. Something he whispers into your lips, lets you taste it as he feels you getting closer and closer.

Then he just hears you. And the sound is prettier than his mind could ever conjure.

Just feels you. And it's better than he ever thought it could feel.

Then, there's nothing else, until he feels pleasure—until it’s white light and your name spluttering from his lips. Your hands in his hair, hips slowing with his as his lips sloppily find yours.

“We should talk.” You frown, looking over your desk as he leans both palms down. “Bonita… we had sex.” “A few times, if I recall.” “You… you seem rather calm about this?” You smirk, lifting your mug to your lips. “Should I not be?” He’s silent, uncharacteristically so. Never short of words, not with you. “Javi, I almost fucking died… then Carrillo… I-I needed… I just needed you.” “Bonita…” “I don’t need pity. Do not worry. I’m not expecting anything, I know you, I’m not complicating this, and I’m not asking to change you. I like you as you are, and I know for you, last night for you was just a one-night thing—” He whispers your name, wrapped in confusion and surprise— Your hand pats his chest, “—and I’m off to the funeral. Please try not to drown yourself in whiskey while I’m gone.” “You know I’m not going...” Smiling, you let your fingers linger on his shirt button, twisting it. “You don’t do funerals—it was one of the first things you told me.” Letting your hand drop before you walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.

It unravels.

Looking every bit like the day he’d been running around the ranch, knocking into the table beside his momma’s armchair, watching in horror as spools of cotton spread out. They ran uncontrollably away, undoing in a fit of rainbow shades and mess. It had taken him an age to fix, fingers raw from cotton against his fingers.

That’s what it was like now—except he wasn’t sure he could fix it.

If anything, he knows he can't.

He realises it when he tells you. A wave of disappointment ascended and crashed in your eyes until you looked at him with an expression painted in worry. It makes him want to kiss it from you, but your hand brushes his cheek—keeping him where he was, close but not too close.

Don’t… What? Worry about you? Yeah, I don’t… I don’t deserve it. Tough, Javi. I’ve worried about you since the moment you bought me food truck food and told me I had sauce on my chin. Why's that? You just seemed like someone who I needed to worry about.

He wanted to kiss you differently then. Softly—gently. Almost greedily. Show you the words he wishes he could say easily. Let you feel how much he adores you, how much he cares, that he even wants to…

Javi doesn’t.

His brain too quick to remind him that you deserve solid truths, not hopeful lies. Tells himself that he’s anything with him will end in ruin, evidenced by the way things keep crumbling, the grip on helping having become closer to hurting.

He tries to build walls to keep you out, ones you chip out with more force than he bargained for. Your nails pulling at bricks, eyes burning through gaps: Do not keep me out, Peña.

So he stops. The energy wasted, even if he wants nothing but to protect you. Doing poorly at it—so much so he doesn’t realise you’re even swept up in it. Not in the moments where he comes find you for a moment of reprieve in the swirling hurricane he created.

You look like shit. Tell me how you really feel, bonita. Javi... I'm fine. You're not. No, I'm not.

He could kick himself when he realises it.

Only seeing it when he returns to the base, stopping short of your desk and finds it bare. No mug. No papers. No little notes you write yourself so you never forget a thing.

Bare. Empty.

There's no scent of your perfume and the air is absent of your laugh.

You had always found him, whether in his room, in a cupboard, at his desk. But, he hadn't thought to look for you today. Just put it aside, suspecting he'd find you later.

"Shit."

Sweat pools at the base of his back as he heads to Messina's. Hating himself, wondering if you'd been questioned. He'd never even tried to make sure you were okay with the knowledge of what he had done, what he continued to do in an effort to fix it.

I’m here, Javi. I'm yours, Javi.

He knows you are a part of the fallout when he sees Stechner behind Messina's desk.

It confirming it. Almost wanting to cut him off from saying your name—not wanting to hear it from his lips. Stechner says it anyway, as though knowing. Purposefully adding more poison to it and accompanying it with a cold smirk. One which almost makes him grip the man by the arm and land his fist in his teeth.

You should have stayed in your lane…

Everything tightened inside of him. While everything around him crumbled, slowly crashing down: the walls, the ceiling—the pretence.

It makes his blood run cold, his heart crack right in the centre.

Ambassador wants to see you. Get your passport.

Tightening his jaw, he hammers his feet up the stairs, taking them two by two. Needing his room, needing a moment.

His hand rubbing over his face, mind populated with memories—ones both good and bad. Your voice swirling around them. Your smile, your laugh, all appearing before they burst, showering him in a mess of confetti he’ll never be able to clean. One he doesn’t want to, if they all he has left of you.

He tries to think of his passport. Where it could be. The location of it in the mess of his room—trying not to wonder, worry or think about where you are. What his mess has done to you.

Opening the door, he comes to a halt when he finds both standing in the centre of the room.

Time comes to a stop. His heart pausing mid-slam into his ribs, the pain rippling out, as he takes you in. Watching your fingers and hand slowly rise, holding not one, but two passports, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

He lets the door shut behind him, suddenly able to breathe. The weight, the one crushing him for ages, finally stepping up from him, allowing air to fill his lungs, allowing his chest to rise and fall as you softly smile.

“Bonita… what… how?”

“I handed my notice in… Messina, she knew about—she advised me, said it would buy me more time. It did—has. Stechner—”

It takes three strides—three—and even those felt long before his lips crashed into yours, silencing you, not wanting your pretty lips to ever mouth his name. Feeling your hand, the one clutching the passports, against his shoulder and the other on his hip. Pulling him in, wanting him—even still.

He feels like he’s dreaming, until you bite his lip. Smirking against his lips as the two of you part. The feel of it bringing him back to earth, trying not to overthink it and let the moment ruin.

Javi just holds you—like he should have done earlier this morning when he'd seen you, and from the very beginning.

Pulling you close as he humanly can, for as long as he’s able to. Doing so selfishly until both of you are just staring at one another, the gap so thin between you, you’re not all in focus.

“Ask me.”

His knuckles slide along your cheek, knowing what you’re implying. Something coiling at what you’re suggesting—something he’d thought about days ago. Regretted not asking minutes ago…

“Javi.” Your fingers wrapping around his chin. “Ask me or let me go….”

Clearing his throat and licking his lips—sighing.

Wanting to. Nothing compelled him more. But the wounded part, the one which is sore and raw, tells him not to. To put distance, space, time—and fucking everything else—between you both.

To protect you. To love you from afar.

“Be with me.”

Smiling, you whisper, “Please?”

“Please,” he adds, a light smirk threatening to spill.

You let your fingers slide over it, the little crease at the end of the hair on his upper lip. “I’m yours, Javi. All yours.”

“You have to know what that means, bo—”

“I already know,” you cut him off, fingers dancing along his cheek. "I don't care."

an: thank you for reading, feel i should apologise for the length ha!

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your-nanas-house · 11 months ago

Note

what if the reader is a spy inside the blinders and has been doing a really good job of keeping a secret and just BARELY slips. tommy finds out. is impressed so they hookup like he doesn’t gaf😭

Took me a moment to find a fitting plot, hope you will like it!! 💗

A juicy bad apple

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Spy!reader

◇ Warnings: angst, anger, lust, SMUT, denied orgasm, rough sex, Tommy using Y/n's cunt, cold/mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy finds out who the bad apple in his business was

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Thank you @mrkdvidal1989 for your advice!

Tommy was sitting at his desk, his head low and his eyes focused on his papers as his hand kept writing down, when Y/n walked in just like he asked her to.

There was silence, she had knocked two times before his low voice allowed her to walk in, his eyes glued on the papers as soon as he glanced at her, moving his hand gesturing her to sit down on the guest chairs.

So she did, she walked carefully there and sat down, as she simply waited to finally know the reason because her boss wanted her there; her eyes kept following his movements even when he simply took a cigarette from its box and placed it between his lips, letting it hang lazily before lighting it to take a few long pulls.

He rested slowly against the chair back, blowing slowly out the smoke in an almost hypnotic way, his eyes finally stopping on her.

"I bet— you know how Peaky Blinders was formed and…after all the time you've worked for us, I bet you know all too well our dynamics and how we deal with things" Tommy started, eyeing her up and down, humming as she nodded to let him continue

"There have been... issues within the Peaky Blinders. We heard word that there may be traitors among us, some who wish to undermine us and cut off our roots— I never thought we'd have moles within our ranks, but it seems there are always a few bad apples and I will see to it personally to weed them out" he continued, his eyes staring intently at Y/n who was looking back at him, listening at every word he was saying

"After all....family is important, and it is what we are built on. Family means everything, eh".

Thomas words kept swirling inside of Y/n's head, she knew that she was hiding something and she had this bad feeling that kept telling her than Thomas knew it too, she didn't had proofs so she had to keep her act going and don't break under his icy stare.

"I'm not sure why you are talking with me about this, Mr Shelby" Y/n replied, watching him blow out the smoke from his nostrils before replying with a teasing smirk on his handsome face

"why not?" he simply said, getting carefully up to be able to stand now in front of his desk and lean against it, his eyes never leaving her.

Tommy could clearly see the tension in her body, which betrayed her for a split moment, before she managed to hide it behind her mask again, her jaw tightly closed.

When he opened his mouth again, his tone was low, almost teasing but still firm and dominant

"Is there something you want to tell me, luv. Perhaps something you've been keeping from me? Or maybe you are indeed as innocent as you seem, eh?" the gangster murmured the last part as he approached her sitting form, allowing his hand to grip her chin softly, stroking in slow motions her skin

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir—" Y/n quickly replied, playing dumb, making Tommy smirk, a hint of amusement in his icy cold eyes.

He moved slowly away, circling her as if he was a predator and she was his prey, his hands caressing the fabric of the chair Y/n was sitting on

"Your eyes betray you, luv" he simply said, causing a reaction out of Y/n who was more than aware of her leak of ability of hiding her emotion from her eyes.

She quickly got up, attempting to leave the room after whispering under her breath "Fuck—" Thomas reflects where faster though, his rough hand grabbed her shoulder pulling her in a sitting position again, there wasn't anger in his eyes but more like amusement.

Not that Y/n could know since he was standing behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?" his voice brushed her ear shell, making her body go still in fear

"Mr Shelby—" she tried, her heart beating fast against her chest, if there was someone she didn't want to face it was Thomas Shelby.

His grip on her shoulder tightened a bit, making her flinch, his breath was warm against the back of her neck and his voice got lower sending shivers down her spine

"Let me ask you a question, luv...Are you my little problem? The bad apple I need to take care of?" he asked softly, knowing already the answer for his question, which didn't came since Y/n was too afraid to say it out loud, fearing the consequences of her actions.

Thomas made her stand up as he continued to surround her while he walked, his eyes staying on her body and face the whole time, his breath getting heavier while his mind wandered at taboo scenarios

"You know what we usually say?" he murmured, standing again behind her, taking a step forward so that their bodies were pressed together and she could feel something poking her from behind— probably his gun she thought.

"Don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders" Tommy replied to his own question, his breath getting heavier against the back of her neck

"Guess that we can make an exception, eh" he murmured with a raspy voice, pushing her down on his desk, her face pressed hard just like her body against the wooden surface

"It's yer lucky day, luv. You really impressed me with your antics and it would be really a waste to get ride of a pretty face like yours, am I right?" he murmured as he unbuckled his pants, doing a quick job to open them and free his leaking cock.

The tension in the room was palpable, Tommy hunger was nearly suffocating while Y/n fear started to turn into arousal.

A small whimper left Y/n's mouth as soon as Tommy pushed her back down after she tried to peak at what he was doing, earning a harsh slap on her ass

"I really feel like rewarding you, luv, after all you have done for us even if you were working for someone else— but I have to punish you too, can't leave yer go like this without doing anything, right? I have a reputation after all" he murmured in her ear as he worked on her skirt and underwear, pulling them both down to expose her sex to him.

The young woman let out a small whimper, taking a deep breath at the sound of Tommy using his big hand to pump his hard cock a couple of time, opening her pussy with his thick fingers before spitting on it so that he could now thrust his leaking cock inside

"You like this deal? You take the punishment and I keep an eye on you but you can keep working for us, or better for me now on, luv. Yes?" he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock against her folds, lining it with her entrance— thrusting only in when she agreed.

His thrust was rough and harsh, just like the other ones that came after it— he was holding her hips as he kept fucking her with no care, ignoring her whimpers and whines, just focusing on reaching his own peak.

"So fucking tight, luv" he praised between clenched teeth, pulling nearly out completely before thrusting back in, letting all his frustration and anger leave his whole body like that.

"Fuck— Taking me so well" he murmured again, biting harshly the skin of her shoulder blade as he continued to thrust, reaching slowly his climax.

His breath getting heavier and heavier as more moan and grunts left his mouth till he finally pulled out to stroke it and shoot his load on her back with a long sigh of pleasure, his body shaking and finally relaxing.

Thomas caught his breath before slapping her right ass cheek to make her move from his desk, fixing his pants before sitting back at on his chair, ready to continue with his work

"Go clean yourself, I will expect you tomorrow in my office at the same time".

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny, @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

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cloveswifey · 1 year ago

Text

REAL TO ME - MATTHEO RIDDLE

Chapter One

Content Warning: Swearing, Jealousy, Toxic Ex-Boyfriend, Threats of Violence, Slytherin!Boys, Dirty Talk, Asshole!Pucey, Alcohol

Series MasterList

"Pansy..." I complained, as my best friend rummaged through my overflowing closet.

"You're going, y/n! No excuses!" Pansy declared, selecting a dark green dress.

"But my day has been terrible! Snape gave me detention," I moaned, collapsing onto my bed.

"All the more reason for you to go!" she said playfully.

"But Mattheos will be there! I can't be bothered with his nonsense tonight, Pans," I groaned, attempting to find any way out of attending this party.

"Whether you like it or not, Y/n Berkshire, you're going!" Pansy ordered, holding up the dress. "Now, get changed and do your makeup! I'll be back in 20!"

Fuck sake

…

As soon as Pansy and I stepped into the party, the loud music hit my ears and I scanned the Slytherin common room. Pansy held onto my hand and led us to our group of friends who were lounging on the couch.

“Look who decided to join.” Blaise greeted us with a chuckle and handed me a drink while Pansy settled onto Draco's lap.

I rolled my eyes, “Pansy dragged me here. I didn’t come willingly.”

“Don’t be such a bore!” Enzo urged me, “drink up!”

So I downed my drink and chuckled lightly. I needed more drinks to forget about my terrible day.

"I need another drink!" I exclaimed, pushing off the wall I was leaning on.

Pansy chimed in, "Me too!"

I give a nod and follow her to the drink table. As I start pouring myself a drink, Pansy and I engage in a lively conversation about our plans for the upcoming Christmas break. Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder, causing me to turn around with a wide smile on my face.

However, my smile quickly fades when I come face to face with an annoying individual wearing an unsettling smile - Adrian Pucey, my ex-boyfriend.

"Hello, beautiful," Adrian greets me, his eyes fixed on me.

Instinctively, I take a step back towards Pansy. "What brings you here? You never come to parties," he asks, a frown forming on my face, skeptical of his intentions.

"What's it to you, Pucey?" I reply, not hiding my annoyance.

"Obsessive much," Pansy mutters quietly under her breath.

"Just curious," Adrian responds, nodding slowly. "So?" he prompts, wanting to know more.

I gesture towards the group of boys gathered around the dark green couch in the corner of the common room. Enzo catches my eye as I glance over.

"Just here to have a good time with my friends," I explain, emphasizing my desire to enjoy the company of those around me.

I immediately frown. "No, thank you," I reply with disgust as Pansy and I make our way back to the couch, where Theo is getting ready to take his shot.

"Why are you making that face?" Enzo asks, frowning as we approach.

"Adrian Pucey is still fixated on her," Pansy says, rolling her eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mattheo clenching his jaw as he swirls his drink in his cup.

"If he bothers you again, let me know," Enzo says seriously, his elderly brother instincts kicking in. Well, when I say elderly brother instincts, I mean... 5 minutes older.

"He won't, it's fine," you say dismissively.

…

After almost two hours, the game of truth or dare turns out to be a disaster. I was drunk and Draco seemed to enjoy giving me the most challenging dares.

"That dare was a piece of cake," I argue, while Blaise giggles. "Ron was blushing like crazy. It's either a hit or miss."

"More like a miss," Theo jokes.

"Shut up, Nott," I reply, giving him the finger. He bursts out laughing. "Hey guys, let's take a bathroom break and then continue playing."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Pansy asks, sitting comfortably on Draco's lap.

"No, I'll be back soon. Our dorm is just upstairs," I say.

…

I swiftly make my way back to my dormitory. I rush to complete my tasks, and just as I am exiting my dorm and descending the stairs towards the common room, I collide with someone.

"Shit I’m so sorry!" I exclaim apologetically, taking a step back to give the other person some space.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise!" The familiar voice greets me.

"What do you want now, Pucey?" I retort, crossing my arms defensively.

"You," he chuckles, causing me to cringe in annoyance.

"You're pathetic, Pucey," I remark, taking another step up the stairs, unfortunately moving further away from the common room.

"Hey! You keep saying my last name as if it's a negative thing, but you were begging for it last year," he chuckles, taking a sip of his drink.

“The only thing I was begging for was for our relationship to end.” I retorted at his unfunny joke.

As I tried to sidestep around him, he blocked my path with his arm, almost clotheslining me in the process.

"Don't pretend like we didn't have a good time, sweetheart," he said, licking his lips and moving closer, his arm slipping around my waist.

"Hey, baby," a deep voice called out from behind me.

Oh no.

"I've been looking for you," Mattheo said, looking into my eyes as if silently urging me to play along, before burying his head in the crook of my neck.

"I was just about to leave until Adrian here decided to bother me once again," I said, attempting to relax in the arms of the boy I despised while trying to get rid of Adrian.

"What do you want with my girlfriend?" Mattheo asked, wrapping a protective arm around my waist.

Adrian looks at you in disbelief and asks, "Girlfriend? You two? No way." He then turns to Mattheo and motions towards you.

You respond, "You were too busy talking about making me your wife that I didn't get to mention it." Mattheo pulls you closer to him.

"Look, she's taken," Mattheo says, in a deep and authoritative voice.

Adrian shakes his head and says, "Hasn't stopped her before," making you frown.

Mattheo threatens Adrian, "Don't make me beat your ass, pucey," as he drops his arm from your waist and cracks his knuckles.

Adrian challenges Mattheo, "I'd like to see you try, pretty boy."

You interrupt the growing tension between them and exclaim, "Well, I wouldn't! Come on, Mattheo, let's go back to our friends."

Mattheo moves closer to the man, firmly planting his feet and assuming a confident posture as he looms over him. "Look here, you disgusting asshole. Keep your distance from her for the rest of the evening, or I’ll fuck up your face, Pucey."

Adrian blinks a few times. "Alright then, jerk." He deliberately brushes past Mattheo, making his way past the two of you and descending the stairs. He defiantly raises his middle finger in the air as he disappears down the stairwell.

“You’re welcome by the way.” Mattheo grumbles in frustration as he trails behind Pucey, making his way back to the party.

What just happened

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t0rturedangel · 10 months ago

Note

can i have some yandere!Vox using his mind control powers on the reader??

╭ . . . 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 ੭

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 ! 𝐕𝐎𝐗 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♰ ৎ﹕𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦

WOOO VOX STUFF, ngl vox is my favorite out of the three vees (idk much abt velvette and i fucking HATE valentino)

✧⠀⨾ the only way he'd ever hypnotize you was if you dared to leave him- i mean who would leave him HIM?? the cool, chill guy Vox, the guy who anyone can trust with their stuff? How could you, in the name of lucifer himself, dare to leave just like that?

✧⠀⨾ you used some lame excuses too, "oh you're scaring me!" "This isnt healthy or alright in the slightest" like seriously? that's not even that serious! all he wants is for you to stay with him. BY HIM. that's all he's asking, is it too much?

✧⠀⨾ fuckin must be, since now you're sobbing and grabbing bunches of clothes- throwing them into a small, very pathetic suitcase so you'd have something when you ran away.

✧⠀⨾ you see, now, now you've went too far- now vox has to step in, which will not be good for anyone.

Through tears in your eyes you grabbed even more clothes, stuffing them all into your [ favorite coloured ] suitcase, occasionally blinking tears away or rubbing them off of your face. Vox went mad, he was always weird to you during the later period of your relationship- always too touchy and manic, too close to you. Yes, the two of you were dating, and everyone thought it was fine- you and vox were happy together. That was true, at least at the start of this twisted relationship, Vox genuinely seemed to care, to love you and would never dare to hurt you, he said so himself.

Yet, recently he's been acting so off- so wrong. Before he was kind, gentle, never forced you to do anything you didn't want to, but now? Lucifer, what happened to him? What happened to that man that you cared and loved so much, what infected his mind? You ,it seemed, were the answer- he changed because of you of how much he "loves" you. he hates seeing other sinners get too close to you- his precious angel- one who should be untouched by the filth of imps and lower sinners, he even went as far as to ban you from seeing the other vees (who you grew decently close to, earning their respect), he seemed to adore the fact that he controlled every aspect of your life and that you failed to notice it at first, too blinded by your love for him, for everything he did for you before the relationship became official- it was so foreign to see him like that now that you knew, that you've opened your eyes and saw the true intent of his actions, now you're scared, horrified.

Through your hysterics, as Vox labeled them when you first began to cry over all of this, you failed to notice that very same 'boyfriend' (you cringed at calling him that, that thing was not your boyfriend- was it ever your boyfriend?) standing in the door frame, his screen glitching with annoyance and screeching out quiet static noises that seemed for familiar yet so eerie, and his eye wider than the other- a beautiful black swirl dancing around on a red background, such an entrancing sight ❝ babe. ❞ you heard his voice, so distorted and full of displeasure making you shrieked out of almost pure instinct and turned your body so fast you almost has whiplash- eyes wide at the sight of Vox, a horror engraved into your [eye colour] irises . Your body began to tremble it felt almost natural to fear Vox, of what he'd do- he want others to imagine him as this stupid cool guy, who has not a care in the world but you knew what he was truly like. you knew what he was, what he said, what he felt about the other desperate sinners.

❝ go away vox- im not your 'babe' im leaving❞ it was barely above a whisper but sounded so loud in your head, so very loud. That one sentence could have leaft you deaf, you wish it did- wishing it left you deaf and blind so you didnt have to hear his voice, coated in an artificial love, dripping with his real poisonous intent, or see his face- that face you loved to see plastered around the pride ring, the face that now glared at you. ❝ Dont be like that [name]- you know you're my [girlfriend/boyfriend/lover] you cant leave me ❞ his voice, still laced with that distortion didn't register in your head, it's like you didn't even hear it- like you really went deaf.

you could hear his steps echo through the room and that confidences you held a meer second ago- drained from your stature immediately. A fear washed over you, overwhelming your body... Millions of questions raced through your tormented mind all desperate to be your sole focul. „ what will he do? ” „will he kill me? Torture me? Sell me off to some beggar?”

Those questions, such meaningless questions you thought, will never be answered. Though do not fear, Vox cherishes you too much to allow you to be in harm's way of anyone else- he just loves you so much, so much so that he'll forgive this silly little attitude of yours just this once: next time he won't be as forgiving. Though, in all his honesty there won't ever be a 'next time' and all he needed to prevent this was for you to look at his eyes, to just give him one glimpse, it's like deja vu for you ist it? What were you thinking? Those fears, those worries and silly little thoughts of leaving him should have never been thought in the first place, oh how could you be so horrible to think that your loving boyfriend Vox would EVER be so controlling and terrible? My dear, Vox only wants what's best for you, and whats best for you if to stay with him! That's all you need to do, he'll do all the hard work, he'll get his hands dirty, he'll protect you. No one else can do what he does, no other overlord, no other vee, no sinner, not even Lucifer himself can keep you safe like how he can.

after all, he just loves you too much to let you leave, and why would you? being with him had never been better. Though now Vox re-thinks letting you think for yourself again, after all last time he did you wanted to leave.

That cannot happen again. NEVER again.

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zazter-den · 1 year ago

Text

Cat Bath

Minors Do Not Interact

(Edit)Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Barista!Reader comes home smelling like her new coworker Izuku, TigerHybrid!Bakugou decides a bath is in order.

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Feline Anatomy, Choking, Light Knifeplay Claw play, Degradation.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Tiger!Bakugou, Dom!Bakugou, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Bath Play, Scentmarking, Creampie.

Word Count- 2K words.

With a low, guttural growl, Bakugou's tail began to sway and twitch behind him. The long, thick appendage moved with a powerful feline grace befitting a regal tiger hybrid.

As Bakugou's sharp gaze fell upon you, he took a step closer with a threatening aura enveloping him. His orange and black swirled ears were flat against his blonde locks. His chiseled jaw clenched tightly as his raging crimson eyes seem to pierce through your soul. There's no doubt that his presence alone could send chills down anyone's spine.

Bakugou's voice dripped with anger as he sneered "Who the fuck touched you, huh? Just let anyone lay their hands on you?" His tone filled with venomous jealousy, his possessiveness over you shining through every word.

His large hand reached out to grab your arm with an iron grip, his long black claws barely grazing your skin, for now. The intensity of his grip causes a a hitch in your breath, his dominance clear as day. "Tell me. now." Bakugou growled, his voice dangerously low. His sharp canines momentarily on display as a warning.

You swallowed hard. Oh, oh this wasn't going to be good.

His territorial jealousy seemed to consume him, and there's no doubt that he won't stop until he has an answer. The scent of pine and yuzu still lingered on your café shirt, a clear indication of the bunny hybrid coworker who had touched you.

"But... but Katsuki, Izuku didn't mean anything by it," you stammered, desperation creeping into your voice. The words coming out of your mouth sound rushed and nervous, "He grabbed my hands only to thank me for training him. It was a gesture of gratitude, nothing more."

Bakugou's grip tightened around your arm, the tip of his dark claws starting to puncture into your flesh, as he hears the name 'Izuku' leave your lips. His crimson eyes looked like smoldering embers, the mere thought of someone else touching you was enough to send a wave of fury surging through his veins. But some shitty prey hybrid holding your hand? A useless rabbit who you were already on first name basis with?

A wicked smirk curled Bakugou's lips as your punishment formed in his mind. With a sadistic glint in his eyes, he released your arm briefly, claws leaving glistening ruby dots. "If it didn't mean anythin', then I guess we'll just have to make sure ya don't reek of his stench," he said, a sinister undertone in his voice.

Not bothering to wait for a response, Bakugou snatched your hand and forcefully guided you toward the bathroom in the back of the apartment. His grip was forceful, almost bruising, as he shoved open the door and tugged you inside.

Bakugou's clothes hit the floor in a haphazard pile, revealing his intimidatingly sculpted physique. His muscular form was accentuated by the defined lines and lean muscles that traversed his body, a testament to his feral strength. His piercing ruby gaze, filled with a mix of raw desire and anger, was fixed your trembling form expectantly. Your clothes soon joined his on the cool tiled floor.

With his usual swagger, Bakugou stepped into the bathtub. His gaze fixated on you, filled with a mixture of hunger and simmering fury. The water settled over his toned body, causing droplets to glisten against his slightly tanned skin. His intimidating cock, stood fully erect and proud, its barbed girth a testament to his animalistic nature. He leaned back against the tub and spreads his legs, making his intentions clear.

With a wicked grin with far too much fang, Bakugou beckoned you towards him, his eyes daring some sort of defiance from you. His tail twitched suddenly, and you swear you almost jumped through the roof

"Get in the fuckin' tub" Bakugou growled, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone.

As you obediently drew closer to him, Bakugou's large clawed hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly. With a sudden, forceful motion, he pulled you onto his lap with a splash, causing the water to slosh around the tub and onto the bathroom floor.

Bakugou's grip tightened around your waist as he pulled you forcefully onto his lap, positioning your back against his chiseled chest. The feel of his muscular frame against your soft curves was both intimidating and exhilarating. You wondered if your heart beat was visible with the way it seemed to drum violently against your ribs.

With a punishing hold on your hips, Bakugou bullied his cock into you, thrusting in inch by thick inch. The sensation of being filled by his girthy length always brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort that never failed to elicit a gasp from your lips. The barbed ridges of his dick rippled against the walls of your dripping pussy, and you had to keep from instinctually clamp down on him. Black claws left angry indents on your skin as he started thrust sharply into you.

As the water sloshed and splashed, Bakugou's claws remained unyielding, his possessive hold a reminder of who you belong to. With every thrust, he watched with a predatory gaze as you writhe on his lap. The moans of pleasure being pulled from you echoing in the small space.

"I can't believe you allowed a fucking useless rabbit to touch you," Bakugou snarled in your ear, his voice filled with venom.

Bakugou growled against your neck, his hot breath tracing a path of need and possessiveness. He rubbed his scent onto your sensitive skin, his rugged scruff grazing against your jawline. With each thrust, Bakugou's movements gradually erased the lingering haze of Izuku's pine and yuzu scent from your body. His own dominant scent, a mix of warm cinnamon, earthy browned caramel, and the smoldering scent of embers, overwhelmed your senses. Seeping into your skin, claiming you as his own.

You were caught between the pleasure of Bakugou's relentless assault and your instinct to defend Izuku's friendliness. Still you tried to find your voice, no matter how shaky. "K-Katsuki," you begun to protest weakly, voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Izuku didn't mean any-"

In a black and orange flash, Bakugou's tail wrapped around your throat, his favorite way of shutting you up. The soft fur against your sensitive skin was a sharp contrast to the powerful grip it wielded, protests efficiently choked to a whimper.

As the pressure increased, lightly cutting off airflow, you gasped and whimpered. The minor decrease of oxygen intensified the sensations coursing through your body, making you moan in a mixture of pleasure and desperation. Each sound that escapes your lips only fed the fire burning within Bakugou, driving him to push you further, to exert his control over you completely.

"P-please" You managed to gasp out, your voice barely a whisper. The word hung in the air, almost begging for mercy, a plea to ease the intensity of his possessive onslaught. But deep down, you knew that it was a foolish request. Bakugou's selfish desires and his animalistic nature drive him, and mercy is seldom a part of that equation.

No. Forgiveness is not something Bakugou is known for. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hips, his claws freely dug into your skin, pricking the sensitive surface. His soft blonde hair, normally messy and tousled, now seemed to stand completely on end, giving him a truly feral appearance. With every wild thrust, his tail's grip on your throat tightened and slacked with the rhythm he found.

Bakugou spread his legs wider, seeking leverage as he relentlessly thrust upwards, setting a brutal pace that left you shuddering in pleasure. The sound of combined moans and the splashing of water filled the bathroom, creating an atmosphere of utter debauchery. Each forceful movement made you acutely aware of the prickly barbs that line Bakugou's endowed length, igniting intense sensations deep within your cunt. Under the violently swirling water, your toes curled against the slippery porcelain.

"Ya feel that, dumbass? That's me claiming you, marking you as mine." Bakugou's voice rasps in your ear, a mix of lust and dominance dripping from every word. “This is what you get, you pathetic little slut. You belong to me, and only me. Remember that." With his tail still wrapped firmly around your throat, His words punctuated by his forceful thrusts, each one drove deep with unforgiving vigor.

His hand snaked up your shaking thigh. His sharp obsidian claws grazed the delicate skin, leaving a trail of barely-there scratches in their wake, before reaching the apex he sought. He always knew how to handle you with terrifying precision. the pads of his fingers expertly circled your throbbing clit. The rough texture of his fingertips added a layer of friction that sent you keening.

Bakugou's touch is unapologetically rough, His fingers pinched and rubbed your clit mercilessly, combining pain and pleasure in a wicked synergy. Every grind, every pinch, brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each press of his fingers, he thrusts into you with merciless ferocity.

Your body was a trembling mess in response to Bakugou's touch, the stimulation was sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel yourself beginning to succumb to the intensity of his ministrations, your walls tightening around his prickly cock. His thick length continued to impale your clenching hole, each thrust sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Your orgasm hit you like a force of nature. Your eyes widened, pupils dilated with a mix of pleasure, fear, and surrender. Your grip tightened on either side of the tub, your knuckles turning white with the overwhelming sensation. The combination of Bakugou's forceful barbed thrusts, the constriction of his tail around your throat, and the merciless stimulation of your clit sent you over the edge. Your moans escaped in muffled gasps and whimpers, partially silenced by the grip of Bakugou's tail. Waves of ecstasy rippled through you, cunt walls clamped down desperately around Bakugou's cock.

Feeling your walls convulsing around him, Bakugou responded with a bestial roar that echoed off the tiled walls. With one final, forceful thrust, he buried himself deep within your quivering pussy. His body tensed, claws lacerating thin red lines on your hips. He released his cum deep inside you with the final snap of his hips, a torrent that seemed to fill you to the brim. It felt like every inch of your being was flooded with the overwhelming heat and intensity of Bakugou's climax. It was hard to catch your breathe as your cunt milked the last of the feral feline's load.

The spicy notes of cinnamon, the rich sweetness of browned caramel, and the smoky hint of embers engulfed you, overpowering any last hints of citrus and pine needles. In this moment, there was only Bakugou, claiming your body and erasing any lingering trace of competition.

Bakugou slowly loosened his tail from around your sore throat, letting it slip away like a snake releasing its prey. The furry appendage, a mesmerizing blend of orange, black, and white, flicked with an air of smug satisfaction.

As the pressure around your throat eased, your exhausted body slumped against Bakugou's sculpted chest, breath still labored. Bakugou wrapped his strong arms possessively around your spent and shaking form. He pulled you closer to him, ensuring your bodies remain connected, bond unbroken in the cooling bath water. His tail swished to-and-fro with a mixture of contentment and territoriality.

With your body now marked by his scratches and filled with his seed, you'll carry his undeniable scent, making it clear to any hybrid foolish enough to come near that you belong to him and him alone.

"You're mine. No prey filth should dare lay a finger on you." Bakugou seethed into your ear, breathless voice a dangerous low rumble as you drift off from exhaustion. “The next time this 'Deku' touches what's mine, I'm putting him in the fuckin' ground.”

An original broke artist haiku:

Buy Me a Whiskey

Because You Want Me Tipsy

So I'll Write More Smut

#I got no excuse for this other than intrusive daydreams ¯\_(°∀°)_/¯#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bnha #yandere mha #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #minors dni #bnha smut #hybrid au #tw dubcon #tw choking #tw knifeplay #Zaz Drabbles #dividers by @CafeKitsune

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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

Text

pretty little wife | meet cute, part 2

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 9.5k words; joel takes you on your first date, and it doesn't end up like he'd planned. not that either of you seem to mind, of course. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship/dynamic not established yet like the other chapters, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bratty in this chapter, talks of brat punishment, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, joel is so fucking handsy here i am Feral, minor bits of angst (reader backstory stuff) a/n: welp apparently i am incapable of writing a short chapter for these two right now >< i'm really loving the way that pretty wife started out a bit bratty and has this pipeline to being joel's good little wife it's kinda doing something for me

You don’t know if your heartbeat could get any louder, nearly drowning out the trill of the line ringing in your ear. You’re moments away from speaking to your mystery man from the bar again, to Joel, who’d seemed intent on changing the entirety of your life with one single fuck in a bar bathroom.

“Hello, Miller Contracting,” a deep voice lumbers out on the other end, sounding nearly clinical with the greeting. You have no doubt it's Joel - his voice feels too recognizable, the deep richness of it combined with his Texas twang that had you absolutely swooning last night. You will your lips to part, for words to rush out, but you pause, trying to get the lump out of your throat.

“Uh - Joel?” you croak out.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly. You picture him at a desk somewhere, sorting through papers, or working on a construction site, his muscles bulging out his shirt and you’re temporarily lost to the fantasy. “What can I do for you?”

“I-it’s me -” you say, repeating your name to him. “From last night…” you add on.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the phone, and your heart lifts what feels like miles within your chest. “Yeah, from last night, didn’t need to clarify, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry. I’m Nervous,” you say simply, wringing your hands together on your lap.

“Now hang on a second, how’d you get this number? Don’t recall givin’ it out,” Joel says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. The fact that he seems eager to talk to you, tease you, immediately dissipates the nervousness you’d had about calling him.

“Er, I’m persistent, that’s all I’ll say,” you tell him with a flush of your cheeks.

“Well, if I’m honest, I’m happy as hell to hear from ya,” Joel says. You feel your eyebrows twitch and mouth part in surprise.

“You are?” You wish you didn’t sound so desperately surprised by the fact, but the words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

“Felt like a damn idiot, forgettin’ to get your number last night. Not how a gentleman should act.” You can practically visualize Joel shaking his head at himself and running a hand through his hair on the other end.

“And you think you acted like a gentleman otherwise?” You smirk and bite your lip, already feeling a tingling in your limbs, a slow, swirling pool of arousal sinking deep into your gut.

Joel chuckles and makes a small humming sound. “Maybe not, but it got you callin’ me, didn’t it?”

You laugh heartily and agree with a sultry “mm-hmm.”

“So listen, I knew if I ever got to speak to you again, I wanted to… uh-” Joel clears his throat, and you can hear a slight wobbling, like he’s nervous. “See if I could take you on a proper date.”

“Oh really, a date? Not just a bar bathroom this time?” you ask, trying to quell a little bit of your excitement, play it cool around him. You’re having a hard time believing that he’d want to take you out, for some reason. This past year or so has been a slew of failed dates, refusals to call back, men telling you one reason or another you no longer interested them. This tended to happen after they’d already gotten something from you, which had only served to make you feel worse about the entire thing. You tried not to let it get to you, but really, you were craving to be loved, to be seen for who you were and loved for it. That was something you hadn’t gotten enough of in your life.

“Now listen, if you’re gonna be like that, maybe I don’t need t’take you out, do I?” Joel teases, and the tingling in your core intensifies, your legs rubbing together just at the low drawl of his voice prodding at you.

“I’d love to, Mr. Miller,” you say coyly, and you hear a sharp hiss of breath from Joel’s end.

“Little shit,” he mumbles.

“What’s that?” you lick your lips and fight the urge to twirl your hair, the feeling of getting him so riled up just over the phone giving you a perverse little twinge of satisfaction.

“Fuck, I need to see you again,” he nearly groans, and you’re unsure if he’d even meant the words for you to hear, so low and quiet. ”Dinner this Friday, then?” Joel asks you, and you bite your lip and scrunch your face up in excitement, knowing he can’t see you.

“It’s a date.”

Joel picks you up that Friday at 6:30, a bit of a sweating, anxious mess after fussing over your makeup and outfit for the last two hours. You end up landing on a white, frilly mini dress with a corset top, knowing your tits are on perfect display for him. A devious huff of laughter leaves you when you reach into your underwear drawer and dig out your sheer white over the knee stockings with a lace trim at the top and slide them up your legs. Maybe you are in the mood to be a bit of menace for him tonight, you think to yourself. The thought of Joel’s eyes practically falling out of his head when he sees you in this makes you smile and nearly squeal with delight as you put your finishing touches to your outfit with accessories and a touch up of your shimmery lip gloss.

When you bound outside of your apartment building, you can see a nearly pained expression on Joel’s face through the windows of his blue truck, pulled up right in front of your building. You hear the clicking of your little heels on the pavement, giving you a boost of confidence as you stride towards him, feeling your hair bouncing behind you.

You feel… fucking hot. And you know it’s partly because of who you know is going to be looking at you all night. Joel takes too long to stare and enjoy the view of you walking over before he’s scurrying out of his truck to reach you and grab the car door.

“Evenin’,” he says, clearing his throat and you notice he seems a bit more quiet and shy in the light of day. He seems almost dazed, trying to take in as much of you as he can in just a few seconds, blinking as he processes just how tiny everything you’re wearing is.

“Got you these,” he says, holding out a small bouquet of flowers full of different pastel flowers and greenery. You can tell he put some thought into it, that he didn’t just pick a random bouquet and roll with it, and it makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you say, studying the flowers for an extra beat. “Such a gentleman,” you coo as you step past him and start to climb into the seat. He huffs a little as you pass and shoots his hand out to grab your wrist, a tight hold as he yanks you back towards him. He doesn’t waste a second before pulling you flush with him, pressing the tops of your tits further out of your dress and onto his chest, covered in a button up shirt. His hand splays along the small of your back, rough and warm, seeping through the fabric of your dress. He leans down, capturing your lips with his.

“Not gonna give me a proper hello, were you?” he rasps once he pulls away. “Thought you were a polite girl.”

Your lips part and spread into a little smile as you lick your lips. “Sorry,” you say, putting your eyes down to the pavement for a moment before lifting them back up to his and cupping his face, raking your fingers through his beard and leaning back in for a soft, chaste kiss. “There’s your hello.”

“Mhm” Joel mumbles before he takes your hand in his, guiding you into his truck where you settle in, wrapping the seatbelt around yourself and watching him walk back around the front of the truck to the drivers side, admiring the way his button up hugs his broad form.

When he sits down, instead of starting the truck he just looks over at you, drinking in your show of skin, hungry glances all over your body until his gaze lands on your tits, the swells of your breasts heaving slightly as you breathe nervously now that you’re alone with him.

“You look like a goddamn angel, or somethin’,” he finally says, flicking his eyes to the tops of your stockings, and you notice his jaw set tightly while his hands clench in his lap. He softens a little once he looks at your face, amused eyes looking back into his. “Beautiful,” he adds, and you beam at him, twirling a bit of your hair around one of your fingers.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, leaning a little closer to him, knowing your cleavage is only being pushed together that much more at this angle in your seat. “You want me to be your little angel, Joel?”

“Christ…” he says under his breath, reaching his hands up to grip the steering wheel, knuckles going white with the strain of it. “Think you already seem to know the answer.”

“Well, I’ll take it you like my outfit, then. I picked it out special for you,” you tell him cheerfully, flouncing the skirt of your dress in your lap a bit.

“Sure do,” he says quickly, starting the car, seeming to need to high tail it out of here before he completely ditches the dinner reservation to have his way with you. You opt to just watch Joel drive, observing his profile with a small, thoughtful smile. You see his brows twitch as he feels your stare on him, and he turns to the side while he’s stopped at a red light, giving you a closed lip smile.

“Did you just ask me on a date because you felt bad?” you ask suddenly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Felt bad?” Joel asks, turning his eyes back to the road.

“For what happened the other night.”

Joel huffs in the seat next to you, his head shaking the smallest bit. “You think I felt bad about any of that? What gave you that idea, now?”

“I… I don’t know. I was just surprised you still wanted to take me out after…” you trail off, glancing out the window to try and avoid your own spiraling thoughts.

“C’mon, doll, need to give me more than that. If you don’t wanna be here you gotta say.”

“No!” you cry out a little too loudly.

“If you just need to hear me say that I liked fuckin’ your tight little pussy or whatever gets you off, just say it, yeah? Don’t need these roundabout questions like a little brat,” Joel snips, and you swallow hard, realizing he’s gotten the complete wrong idea.

“N-no, nothing like that, Joel, I… I really want to be here, I really do. I guess I was worried,” you suck in a breath. “That you’d just be done with me after you got what you wanted. That’s what other guys have done. Older guys.” You can feel your voice getting mousier, quieting with your confession, afraid that the answer will be exactly what you’re afraid of. Joel’s expression softens, the lines between his brows letting up as his eyes lighten a bit.

“First off, I ain’t other guys, and I want you gettin’ that in your head right now, okay?” Joel says, glancing over to see you nodding small little bounces of your head, eyes wide. “Okay?” he asks again, a little more stern this time, reaching a hand over to grip your thigh.

“Okay.”

“Good. An’ I ain’t even close to getting everything I want from you, probably never could be, so don’t wanna hear you say anythin’ like that again, got it?” His grip squeezes on your thigh, and you place your hand over it, covering his hand with your own.

Your mind spins, reeling with such a strong confession from him. You don’t know how it’s possible that after one night together, the both of you have something damn near unexplainable, something that’s been nestling itself deep into you since then. You tilt your head a little, giving him a soft smile, feeling all the worries you’d had this entire week start to melt away.

“Got it,” you tell him with a stern nod, your hair falling over your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh a few times. They twitch and clamp together a bit with his praise, the familiar rush of arousal from the other night coming back to you when he used those same words. You catch Joel smirking out of the corner of your eye, the effect he had with those two simple words not lost on him.

You can see his face steel, his jaw setting tighter as his fingers move up your thigh, unsticking from the bare flesh he’d been touching and climbing upwards.

“You dress like this a lot? Or just wanted to get a rise out of an old man, hm?” he asks, fingers digging into your plush skin a little harder.

You twist your lips into a thoughtful pout, knowing it shows off the shiny pink of your lip gloss a little better, and Joel’s eyes drift there for a brief moment when he glances at you.

“Sometimes.” You give him an indifferent shrug. “Mostly wanted to see how you liked it.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Joel replies plainly, nearly sounding irritated, but you somehow know that he’s more angry with himself right now, barely able to keep his trembling hand from moving further up your thigh.

“I mean, I thought the stockings might be too much, but don’t you think they go just perfect with this dress?” You trill in an innocent tone to him, moving his hand to play with the lace edges at the top.

“Mmm,” Joel replies, lips pressed tightly together. His fingers bury themselves under the band of the stockings, pads of his calloused hands grazing the skin underneath. You try to hold back a shudder but it’s no use, Joel’s touch is fully electric, sending a zip of pleasure up your spine.

Your legs spread open wider in the seat, inviting him to move higher and you let out a quieter moan and slide the hem of your dress up a bit higher. You’re warm all over, skin flushing as his hand creeps up towards the apex of your thighs. You admit you’re having even more fun than you thought teasing him. He’d done this same thing to you at the bar, sloppily kissing along your neck until you’d felt nearly insane with need for him, and it gives you a little pump of satisfaction to see him falling apart so quickly.

“Even got…” you breathe out, “The matching panties on.” Another tiny little mewl slips out when Joel’s fingertips slide along your inner thigh, ever closer to where you know you’re already wet for him. He peers over to see your chest heaving a bit, curves looking so inviting - all it would take was one little tug and your tits would be spilling out, just as they had the other night, so pretty and just for him.

“Fuck it,” Joel grunts out, tearing his hand away from you and pulling off to the side of the road, turning into a passing neighborhood and swinging the car into the closest driveway to turn around. “I live close by, we’re goin’ to my place right now,” he says. “Fuckin’ wearin’ this little shit to get me all worked up…” His voice is mumbling now, seemingly to angrily talk to himself as he keeps his eyes straight ahead, not looking at you.

His face is going pink with the effort of holding back from you, grunting while he maneuvers the car and speeds off, booking it towards his house. Your mouth forms perfect O before it splits into a grin, knowing you got exactly what you wanted from him. Something about driving a man like Joel crazy - someone who seems reserved, in control of these kinds of situations, makes you feel a little spark of pride mixed with your dousing of arousal.

“Teach you some damn manners, that’s what I’m gonna do,” Joel mumbles quietly, letting out little sighs of irritation.

“J-joel…?” you ask carefully.

“Mm-mm, not a word right now. You’ve said enough.”

You clamp your lips together, knowing you maybe shouldn’t be as thrilled as you are right now, feeling like sparks are dancing across your skin, magnifying right where Joel holds you, squeezing to where it might leave a bruise tomorrow, as if to hold you down, keep you in this car with him.

“Please…” you whimper, unsure what you’re asking for, just knowing you’re growing more desperate to feel him on you, inside of you.

“Please nothin’. You’re gonna act like this, I’m gonna react accordingly, you got that?” Joel snips, veins on his forehead protruding as he drives along, unable to even look in your direction. You stay silent while he whips through a suburban neighborhood, finally pulling into his driveway.

“Stay,” he spits out before exiting the car, coming over to your side and opening the door.

“Thank you,” you coo sweetly, which gets a devious smirk from Joel.

“You’re tryin’ to be good now, are you?” he scoffs, wrapping his hand around your upper arm.

“Thought you liked fucking good girls,” you say with a sly smile, repeating his own words back to him. He chuckles low and deep in his chest before tugging you out of the car, keeping one hand on your arm and the other pressed on your lower back, guiding you to the front door. Instead of letting you step out of the way, he presses himself so that you’re between his body and the door as he reaches around to unlock it, keys clanking in his awkward position.

You can feel him, hard and long, cock painfully erect and pressing against your ass. You fight the urge to grind into him, thinking that maybe he may not see that as something a good girl would do. Instead, you let a little whimper slip out when he digs into you deeper as he turns the nob and pushes the door in.

“Gonna be makin’ a lot more of those pretty little noises soon, honey,” he says low, near your ear as he nudges you inside. It’s dark, only bits of the setting sun coming through the windows, and you fumble past the doorway, the only anchor you have is Joel’s hand on your back.

He flicks a switch, illuminating the room with a dim floor lamp, and you can see that you’ve stepped into his living room. It’s modest but cozy, and definitely seems to ooze his busy, bachelor lifestyle with plain, somewhat mismatched furniture. You had to hand it to him, though, just upon first glance he seemed relatively clean, unlike some men’s places you’d visited.

“This is a nice pl-“ you start, cut off by one of Joel’s arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you into him with a thud. Your back is tight against his chest now, his head burying near the crook of your neck. He’s kissing you urgently - every spot he can find, biting and sucking and flicking his tongue, all gentle but firm, full of an unrelenting passion and frustration.

He groans loudly, hand tracing up your chest to grasp at one of your tits, squeezing it firmly and running his finger over your nipple. Both are hard and aching for him, poking through the fabric of your dress with no bra holding them back. He sucks so hard on a spot on the side of your neck that you gasp and twitch in his hold. He chuckles, quickly soothing the spot with his tongue and lips.

“Couldn’t wait for me to get my hands on you, is that it? Why you dressed like that, hopin’ I’d bring you back here? Say fuck the nice dinner reservation I made us?” he finally speaks, nearly growling in your ear.

“I just - I-“ you stutter, mind reeling from his warmth blazing into your skin now, his voice rumbling close to your ear, low and gritty and sounding… almost angry with you. You feel a tightening in your core, pooling between your legs and you already start to ache for him, turned on by the way he’s chastising you and covering you with marks.

“You were such a good girl the other night for me, can you do that again? Or you want to keep bein’ a brat?”

“N-no I liked being good for you, remember?” you blurt out, chest heaving and body fighting the urge to squirm out of his arms and show him, get on your knees and finally get him in your mouth.

“Didn’t seem to think so in the car… if I didn’t know any better you wanted me to punish you, fuck you fuckin’ dumb ‘til you submit to me. And the thing is, honey, I like my girls to be good f’me. Don’t wanna have to work for it unless I want to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just wanted to play around, make you a little crazy for me,” you say with a whine, your bottom lip starting to quiver.

“C’mere, lemme see you,” Joel says, a quick grunt as he spins you around, catching you along your back with one hand, tilting your head up by the chin with the other. He takes in your wide, pleading eyes, plump lips turned into a frightened frown, and sighs.

“S’okay, doll,” he says much softer, thumbing your chin and then stroking his fingers up your cheek. “Lucky for you I was in the mood to work for it a bit tonight, and you know why that is?”

You shake your head mutely, absolutely dumbstruck by his dark eyes narrowed and looking straight into yours. He’s so beautiful, so much more than you even remembered from the other night. It nearly sends an ache into your chest, just how perfect he is.

“‘Cause you’re worth it, pretty girl. What kinda man would I be if I didn’t have to work for it a bit, hm?” His voice is changed, a bit more flexible, his tone coming off kinder now. You feel a surprised smile tugging at your mouth and you let it spread a bit, showing Joel that you’re pleased with what he said.

“Show you how pretty you are…” he trails off, his eyes drifting down to your chest, where he’s watching your curves spilling out the top, your dress pulled down from the way he’d been touching you there. He tugs slowly on the fabric, pulling it so your tits are both spilling out, letting the neckline tuck underneath and press them upwards.

He leans down to capture your lips in a softer kiss, letting your lips and tongues begin a gentle dance with each other. Joel’s fingers make their way under your dress, sliding the hem up to reach your ass, large palms splaying across both globes. He pulls you even closer, grinding you against his arousal and you groan, absolutely soaking for him, needing for him to touch you where you want him most.

“Got your ass and tits out like a little whore for me now, don’t you? Like being my little whore?” he grits out, and you nod with a quiet mhm, lolling your head back as he places a few little bites on your neck.

“Let me fuck you in that bathroom and comin’ home with me the first date ‘fore I can even buy you dinner,” Joel tuts, continuing to knead the plush flesh on your ass, stepping forward so that you have no choice but to walk backwards and further into the living room. He smacks your ass hard before rubbing the spot with a soothing touch.

“Now get inside and take what you’ve been askin’ for, honey,” he says, stroking the side of your face gently.

“W-where do you want me?” you ask timidly, looking into his chest before trying to meet his eyeline. He’s so intimidatingly in charge right now you can hardly meet his gaze, dark brown, nearly black in the dimness of the house.

Joel seems to like your question, smirking and stroking your cheek again, calloused fingers sending a jolt of electricity that travels down your spine. “Good girl for askin’,” he coos, a flash of excitement in his eyes at your docility for him. He takes his hands to your shoulders, gently guiding you to stand in front of the couch. He turns and sinks back into the cushions, watching you stand in front of him, anxious with anticipation.

“You gonna dress like a slutty little doll, I’m gonna treat ya like one and play with you as long as I want, yeah?” A quick, stunned nod from you before he continues. “Now take off that pretty dress,” he says, his tone deepening with the command. His eyes are glued to your chest where your tits are still popping out of the top, practically burning a hole in you with the intensity, heat creeping over your skin. You lift from the bottom, pulling it over your head in one slow movement, standing before Joel in only the skimpy lacy thong you’d chosen for tonight - white to match your dress and stockings. You reach to pull the stockings down and Joel shakes his head, eyes snapping to where your hands are.

“Mm-mm, didn’t tell you to do that now, did I? Leave those on, doll. Panties next,” he drawls, and you follow his command, stepping out of your thong and leaving it on the floor beneath your feet. You take a nervous gulp, waiting for his next words, feeling right between your legs slickening even more as his eyes hungrily take you in.

“C'mon over and sit right here,” Joel says, patting his lap. His words have an immediate effect, just like when he’d asked you to get on your knees at the bar, your body moving for him of its own accord. You pad over the few steps to him and settle yourself onto his lap so that you’re facing him, thighs on either side of his. Joel’s hands find your hips, holding you and stroking his thumbs along your bare skin there. There’s such a stark difference between the two of you right now - Joel, fully clothed, not even a button undone yet on his shirt, and you with the entirety of your body naked and exposed save for your stockings, sitting on top of him because he’d asked for it. All the fabric on your bare skin feels odd in the best way, like you’re doing something so wrong yet so right at the same time, like you’re Joel’s dirty little secret somehow with the way he has you in the palm of his hand right now.

He cocks his head a little, looking at you more seriously now. “Now listen, should’ve said this the other night, but you saw how I like to be in charge of things, right?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah,” you breathe out, just barely. You’re distracted by the feel of his broad, muscled body beneath you, his hard length pressing into you through his jeans. You feel your head swimming but you try to focus on his words.

“So tonight if it gets to be too much, if somethin’ is wrong, you gotta call out ‘red’ for me, mkay?”

You nod again.

“Gonna need you to use your words, honey.”

“Yes, I got it. Red,” you repeat back to him, and the ghost of a smile comes to his lips.

“Good girl,” Joel says, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing it. “Now…” he trails off, his grip tightening on you in an instant to flip you off of him and next to him on the couch cushions, his body following closely behind so that he’s on top of you. His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and tongue and teeth clashing and you moan into it with surprise, still trying to get your bearings from all the sudden movement.

He slips down your body, his lips trailing a hot, wet mess along the way as he sucks your neck, your tits, briefly swirling a tease of his tongue over one of your nipples before he finds his way between your legs. They fall open for him in your dizzied state and he takes no pause before burying his head there, licking fat stripe up your slit, groaning loudly at the taste of you. He licks the same pattern several times, relishing in all the slick arousal that was just for him, he thinks greedily.

When Joel starts to lap at your cunt in earnest, his tongue poking your entrance before flicking at your clit, repeating the motions over and over, you throw your head back, whining loudly and writhing down into his face and chasing your pleasure.

“F-fuck, I’m -” you whimper. “Joel I’m already gonna -” Your legs shake and he seizes one of your thighs into his palms before the other hand slips between your legs and swiftly buries two fingers inside of you, going deep to press against your g-spot. You’d thought endlessly about that feeling since the night with him in the bar, the way he’d been the first person to show you what you’d been missing, to bring you world ending pleasure when he split you open. You’re desperate for it again, knowing his fingers are enough, but you can’t help but picture the way his girth had stretched you, pressed into you so deeply that you already felt addicted to it.

When he pulls your clit into his mouth, pressing on the spongy part inside of you at the same time, you cry out, feeling your hips bucking into him, body taut and shaking as he pulls your orgasm out of you. His name spills from your lips as easily as anything you’ve ever said in your life, like you’ve been saying it for years and no other man has existed for you, could exist for you.

You slump back, breathless and wanting, a sheen of sweat coating your body from the intensity with which he’d rocked your reality, and you quickly realize he’s likely far from done with you tonight. It makes your stomach churn with anticipation, and you bring yourself back, focusing on the gentle touch of his lips on your sensitive nerves, peppering your pussy with little kisses, leading out to your thighs.

“Good fucking girl f’me, didn’t take long at all, did it?” he says wryly.

“M-more…” you mumble, blinking your eyes to clear some of the post-climax fog you’re feeling, but it’s no use - Joel can see already how fucked out you are, barely even five minutes in. His heart swells with pride, excitement, the sick satisfaction of having you under his thumb, his to devour completely, body and soul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, finally meeting your desperate, soft lips with his. He’s on top of you, his body slithering over yours again, pressing against you. Your hands reach up and start to unbutton his shirt, hesitantly at first, but a small noise of approval from him urges you on, indicating that he’s okay with you making that decision. When he finally shrugs it off, you take a moment to pull yourself back from his kisses to gaze down at him, his bare chest revealed to you for the first time. You feel your sex ache as fresh arousal starts to drip out of you seeing the salt and pepper of the curls on his chest, his defined but still soft abdomen, so inviting and sexy. You start to feel nearly feral, your gut coiling tight with the need for him to fuck you again, to watch his perfect body relentlessly use you for his own pleasure.

“S-shit…” you manage to gasp out when you gingerly run a hand down his chest, letting your nails scratch through his hair, and Joel hums against you as his lips find your shoulder. You rake your fingers downwards, leading all the way to his happy trail where you leave your fingers to rest on his belt. He looks delighted at your visceral reaction to his body, never thinking much of it himself, the way it had gotten slightly doughy with age and his hair had already started graying. But seeing you see so much in it that he can feel your legs tighten underneath him, pussy likely fluttering just at the sight, makes his core twist in pleasure and his cock twitch.

He caresses your face gently, his touch soft despite the mischief growing in his eyes. “Don’t think you learned your lesson yet, bein’ such a brat in the car,” he says, letting you start to undo his belt. When his cock springs out, you nearly start again at how length and thick it is, nearly having forgotten just how stunning it was outside the confines of your memory.

Joel notices your fresh reaction to his cock, the length of him twitching in anticipation to fuck you to pieces, to fuck you into being a good girl again. He can’t help but remember just how much it had shut you up to take his cock just a few nights ago, and he nearly whimpers at the memory alone.

“N-no? Don’t think so?” you tease back, grinding yourself against his bare and freed cock and Joel responds first with a surly little growl, two of his fingers possessively gripping your chin. His eyes flash in a way that you think should scare you, but you can’t help but feel comforted by Joel’s presence nonetheless.

“Exactly what I’m talkin’ about, bratty little ass, y’are. And let me fill you in on somethin’ for your own good,” he drawls, running his thumb along your lower lip. Your breath is baited as your lips part in invitation to him and he doesn’t slip it inside, not yet, at least. He hikes your hip up with his other hand, angling you towards his body as he steps closer between your legs. “I don’t like brats, I want my girl to be nice ‘n good to me. Are you gonna be nice ‘n good to me, doll?” he says, finishing the thought.

You swallow hard. You don’t know how serious he is, if this is part of some bigger game of his, this dominance he likes to have. You feel a pull in your heart, like you find yourself agreeing with him, that the look he’d given you when he called you good girl and obedient the other night were exactly what you’d been seeking your entire life. There was something there, something to take pride in, that he thought you were doing good enough for him. You’d wanted to tease him tonight, sure, make sure he still thought you were beautiful and sexy, afraid you’d get left behind so quickly in the more than likely slew of women he could have interested in him. Joel’s version of sexy just happened to be someone submissive for him, and the way you’d felt being that for him the other night, so far tonight, it was exhilarating, like a part of you that you’d had no idea existed until now, until him.

“I don’t want to be a brat,” you say quietly, gazing up at him with delicate eyes now, having your decision made. You reach a hand down to his cock, practically pulsating with need for you, sitting so close to your warm heat as he hovers above you. You gently palm it, wrapping your hand around the shaft, admiring the fact that your fingers can’t even fit around the expansive girth of it.

“I want to be your good girl,” you breathe, and Joel’s eyebrow cocks before his thumb settles into your mouth as he groans a little. You sit still, the saltiness of his skin so inviting but you don’t dare move, feeling that it's some kind of test, one you intend on passing.

Joel knows that you’ve figured it out. He strokes the side of your hair lovingly with his free hand and chuckles deep and low, the sound reverberating in the quiet room.

“Suck,” he finally commands, and immediately you suckle on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around it. Joel’s eyes flutter a bit and he groans between the feel of your hand on his cock and warm tongue wrapping around his thumb. He pushes it deeper and deeper, another one of his fingers entering your mouth, met with the same enthusiasm by your tongue. He gives a final push of his fingers, gagging you, and your hand falls off his cock, having you distracted enough that you barely notice he’s notched himself at your entrance. When he splits you open with his head you gasp around his fingers, stuffed far back in your throat. It burns and aches and stretches but you feel exhilarated by it, awakened and alive by the absolute girth of him breaking you open and finding a place inside of you as he pushes on inch by inch.

“Good girl,” he whispers roughly, eyes intently locked onto yours as they widen and tear up with all the different intrusive sensations. But despite all of that, your insides warm at his words, finding a home in your heart and nestling in. That’s when you know for sure - you’re done for, you’re a goner, this is the man you’ll spend your life doing this for, chasing and seeking those two little words from him no matter what it takes. You want this.

“Y’sure that’s what you want? Be my good little doll? Be sure before I use you like one,” he says, checking in with you quietly, his lips lingering just above yours.

You nod, your breath hitching, and he can see the fear of the unknown in your eyes, but he smiles at your willingness to try for him. “I want it, I want it, use me, Joel,” you breathe out erratically, the words tumbling out of you without a second thought.

The next moment is nearly a blur, a switch seeming to flip in Joel as pops his fingers out of your mouth, grunting with the effort of yanking your hips upwards so that you have no choice but to wrap your legs around him. He begins a relentless fucking into you, pounding his cock over and over, and its only now that you can see just how well controlled he had been these last few minutes, so collected only to unleash it on you now. Your eyes squeeze shut, rolling back into your head as you bite back the cries of him stretching you so quickly and harshly, so much more rough than the other night.

“Fuck…” he groans, “Tight little pussy, could never forget how good it feels, just like I remembered, baby,” he praises as he continues to jackhammer into you. Your body is crumpled up underneath his huge frame on the couch, legs moving further up his body until they nearly reach his shoulders. He takes the initiative to tug them that way, propping your ankles onto his shoulders before he takes a swift bite at one of them. You yelp but quiet immediately, letting the soft moans you’d been making slip past your lips again instead.

You see Joel’s approval in his smirk, the way his face contorts with pleasure as he goes red from exertion, his body gathering sweat as you run a desperate hand down his chest. You feel so far away in this position, your lips so far from his, wanting to feel your skin touching in every possible spot. You’re drunk on him already and need more, more of his warmth and his scent and the feeling of him.

“I want to - p-please, feel you closer, please…” you beg, hoping that your politeness will win him over into doing something that you want.

“Yeah? Want to bounce on this fat cock of mine, pretty girl? That do you some good?”

You nod quickly and urgently, breathing in with the anticipation of being moved as Joel pushes his cock as deep as he can before bracing himself to swap your spots. It feels effortless, the way he contorts the both of you until he’s laying back on the sofa and you’re straddled on top of him.

“Oh my god…” you murmur when you sink fully down onto him. Your head tilts back and mouth gapes open as you feel him so fully, pressing so deep inside of you at this angle. “Joel…”

“I know, baby, m’so deep in there,” Joel says soothingly now, his demeanor changed for the moment. He starts to move your body for you, achingly slow on his cock while he urges your hips up and down. One hand slides to your belly, gently pushing low down on your abdomen. “Feel m’self right in there, baby, right where I’m meant to be,” he coos, looking at his hand in amazement.

“Feels so fuckin’... so good,” you whine, starting to move more quickly on top of him. You can’t compare it to anything else, anyone else you’ve ever been with, the way Joel’s cock stretches you with each new thrust, the pain giving way to an aching pleasure as your walls are stimulated over and over by him.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts out, wrapping his bulky biceps around your back and pulling you down so that your top half is more flat against his chest. He slips one hand into your hair, bringing you in for a deep, hungry kiss that you both moan into. At this angle he holds more power, able to thrust up into you after he bends his knees. You’re losing all sense of time, of sensation and noise around you, just Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel fucking into you with everything he’s got, his hot breath on your neck and ear and buried into the side of your hair. His lips warm and wet on any part he can find while you take and take and take what he’s doling out, your cunt starting to ache from the way he’s pounding into you but desperately begging for more, fluttering around his length. Your moans ramp up when you feel your clit start to brush against the curls at the base of his cock, his name whispered into his neck in between your cries.

“There we go, doll, get what y’need, c’mon,” he says near your ear, urging you on. You’re only brought back to some semblance of reality as Joel smacks your ass with a swift, hard slap and you moan out. A new flutter and gush from your cunt around him makes Joel grunt and he fucks up into you like a crazed, possessed man, intent on only you you you.

“Tha’s right, honey, so fuckin’ wet for me,” Joel grits, his hips snapping in a nearly impossible pace into you. You think you’re starting to black out, your vision a bit spotty from how hard he’s ramming the entirety of his cock into you, your g-spot so stimulating along with your clit and you’re grasping at the cushions on either side of you, nearly pounding your fists into them as Joel holds you close, not letting you move an inch, not letting this climax get away from either of you.

“God, Joel, fuck… I c-can’t -“ you whine, your entire body tightening, damp with sweat as your tits slide across his chest with each new thrust.

“Y’can, now be a good girl and come for me,” Joel says, hot heat of his lips meeting yours for a sloppy kiss, both of your tongues half missing the others’ mouth, making a mess on your faces full of saliva and the remnants of your lip gloss. Everything is so slick, slippery, and you gush between your legs, your wet arousal dripping out around where he enters you again and again.

You snap, the invisible tether you’ve visualized inside of yourself finally breaking and you let go, practically convulsing on top of Joel with erratic grunts and moans and the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard yourself make. You bear down on his cock as he rides you through the waves of ecstasy that take over your entire being.

“Good girl,” he coos over and over, his quiet praises only serving to plunge you further into this blinding hot cavern of bliss that you’ve fallen into. You can feel how his cock slips in and out around the way you’re creaming over his length, and you finally quiet into his chest, a spent mess.

Joel stops moving for a moment, giving you time to catch your breath as he strokes the back of your head. You nearly want to purr with the contentment you feel as he lightly drags his fingers across your head.

“Your turn,” you finally say, a wry smile pulling at your lips. You pick yourself up a bit, wiggling your hips on him and hissing a little at the oversensitivity of your shot nerves.

“My turn,” Joel echoes, a devious little twinkle in his eye is all you see before he sits up, pulling you close and kissing you as he ruts his hips into yours a few times. He quickly pulls out of you, handling your body roughly but smoothly as he turns you, pushing you down, knees on the cushions and chest pressing against the back of the couch. He crowds behind you, spreading your knees for you and you can feel his wet cock slap against your ass as he positions you and then himself.

Joel’s cock forces its way between your legs again, immediately sliding into your wet heat. You bristle a little under the full size of him again, determined to take it like the good girl you say you are and let him spill every drop of cum he has inside of you. You realize you’ve said some version of that out loud in your mental fog when Joel chuckles a low, devious little noise and slams into you hard.

“Yeah? Want all my cum, want to have me fuckin’ my cum into you, fillin’ you up?” Joel asks and you nod dazedly in reply. He plants a firm hand on your back, sinking you into the back of the couch while he pounds into you, chasing after his pleasure, using you to get himself off. You’ve never been more turned on, and you feel the creeping need of desire filling low in your belly again.

Joel’s free hand starts to smack your ass relentlessly, as if to spur you on while you bounce your hips back into his movements.

“Yeah, pretty girl, so good, takin’ this cock like a good girl,” he chants, erratic movements of his hips telling you how close he is.

“Fuck, fuck, so tight…” he bellows out, “Gonna come inside you, baby.” One more thrust and he’s done for, his hips sputtering and stopping deep inside of you as he unleashes while your cunt flutters, your body reacting in pure effervescent joy to feel his spend coating you again. Joel wraps his arms around your chest, yanking you to fall back with him so that you’re laying side by side, tangled in each other's arms. You both breathe heavily, sweat and stickiness intermingling as you lay so close.

“We missed our dinner reservation,” Joel says after a few moments of silence stating the very obvious. “We could order some takeout, how’s that sound?”

You listen to the beat of his heart where your head rests on his chest, steady and strong as it still comes down from his climax. You hum a little approving noise, nodding your head.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you tell him, barely able to care much about anything else right now. You think in this completely fucked out, limp state you’d let him feed you practically anything, spooning each bite into your mouth like you’re a helpless child. The thought makes you shudder a bit, a feeling of fear creeping over you that someone could have such an effect on you as to change you like that, to pull this side of you out that you’d buried deep inside.

“Don’t wanna move, though,” you whine, snuggling down onto his chest.

“I know, I know,” Joel says soothingly with a hand running down your hair. “Gonna have to eat to keep up with what I’m gonna do to ya next, though.”

You lift an intrigued brow and glance up at his face to find him already giving you an amused expression. “I’ll order us some food, why don’t you put on your pretty dress again and we’ll pretend we got our date, how about that?” he says.

You bite your lip in an effort not to smile too widely, and you give him another nod of agreement, finally sitting up and then clambering off the couch and stretching. Joel’s eyes roam your still bare body, unable to believe he could be ready for another round this quickly when his cock twitches at the sight. You throw on your dress and adjust it, smoothing the sides of your hair.

“How do I look?” you ask innocently with a twirl, as if he hadn’t just been buried deep inside of you, stealing any semblance of reality from your very being.

“Perfect,” he says with a chuckle.

Joel orders Chinese food, and the two of you sit at his kitchen table, a candle lit that Joel had dug out from deep within a cabinet sitting between you two at the table.

While you’re already sure the physical attraction with Joel isn’t wanting for anything, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you two are connecting on all sorts of topics - from old country music that you listened to growing up to your dream vacation destinations. It seems like you two have more and more in common the longer you talk, or at the least, have an interest in the things the other person is saying. You can’t help but feel like you have a lot to learn from Joel, someone who has life experience, different interests (“old man interests” you tease him), and a whole new perspective on the world. You could listen to him for hours, sitting with your chin in your hand and lashes fluttering as you gaze at his perfect lips speaking about all of these new things.

“Can I tell you something?” you finally say during a quiet moment, when your plates have long been pushed away, swirling your third glass of wine in your hand. One foot is planted on the dining chair, knee tucked up to your chin where you rest it, lip worrying in between your teeth.

“Mhm, ‘course,” Joel says casually, sipping from his own glass.

“When I said I couldn’t find my passion before… I’ve always known what it is, what I want out of life. I just can’t… say it because it sounds, well, silly.”

“Try me,” Joel replies coolly, his eyes flickering with curiosity.

“I’ve always wanted to be -“ you hesitate, swallowing hard. “The reason someone comes home. The person they come home to. That’s it. That’s all I want. My parents… they never had that. Sure, they came home, but only because there wasn’t anything else to do, nowhere else to go. I never felt it from them. I’ve always wanted to just take care of someone and be that for them…” you confess, trailing off as your cheeks heat with the tipsy confession, slightly embarrassed to reveal it to Joel.

He considers your words with a small hmm and a cock of his head. “You’re talkin’ about a marriage, yeah? You wanna be a married woman.”

You nod, breathing out a sigh. “Women I know, and my parents, oh god, would probably freak out if that’s what I told them. That I just want to be someone’s wife, make each other happy. Be there for them. It’s something I’ve been too scared to admit until now, because my parents just want me to go to school, get a job, and be successful in the ways they’re successful, but…” you pause to glance at Joel, then back down to the table, tracing your nail along the knots in the wood. “What if I want to be successful in the ways they aren’t?”

Joel’s face contorts slightly, feeling your pain. “You gotta do what you need, sweetheart. Fuck what anyone else says,” he says plainly. “I can relate, y’know. I was married before.”

You snap your gaze up to him, somehow surprised, but realizing maybe you shouldn’t be, that this man is well into his forties now and has lived an entire life before ever laying eyes on you. “Yeah? And…”

“Was all pressure. Wasn’t right. Divorced over ten years ago, so don’t feel too sorry f’me. Her parents had all this pressure on us gettin’ married but I knew she wasn’t the right one for me. Ended up divorcin’ five years later.” He tuts at the memory - the waste of time, the endless arguments, the strain of it all for nothing.

“I’m sor-“ you start, cut off by Joel grabbing your hand across the small table, dwarfing it in his palm.

“Said don’t be sorry for me, yeah? I’m sittin’ here with you now, aren’t I?”

A smile tickles at the corners of your lips and you look down bashfully, letting your fingers curl around his. “Yeah, guess that’s true.”

“Come on over here,” Joel says, patting his lap and setting his wine glass on the table with a small clink.

You slide out of your chair, padding over and getting into his lap effortlessly. His fingers spread along your back to support you and you curl your legs up, resting against his chest.

“Y’know marriage is a lot, right? I know you know, you’re a smart girl, can tell you’ve thought about this.”

“I know,” you snip. “It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. I just… that’s what I want.” You don’t know how to express to him the yearning deep inside of you, the way you’d watch your parents moving in parallel lives, just happening to share children and a home, and wishing for anything more than that. Praying you’d never meet that same fate, that you’d be so sickly, passionately in love with your future spouse that the entire world could know from a single glance. That you’d give your life to make sure they were well taken care of, and they’d do the same for you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says quietly, nuzzling his nose against the top of your head. “I know you’ll get what you’re lookin’ for. Anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

Your skin heats at his close contact and adoring words, your stomach twisting a little with the anticipation that it could be him - could Joel be the one lucky to have you, as he said?

“W-would you?” you stutter out, licking your suddenly desert dry lips. “Have me?”

“Honey, I’d have you a hundred different ways and never tire of it. Such a sweet, smart, special little thing you are.”

Your lips purse into a smile, fighting the urge to giddily giggle right in his lap. You tilt your head up to kiss him, a motion he gladly returns as he deepens it for a few moments, tasting remnants of the wine on each other's tongues.

“That what you want? Want me to have ya?” he asks quietly, the question carrying more weight in your mind than maybe he’d meant.

“Yes,” you say, a whisper into the quiet air of his house.

“Stay w’me then, this weekend. Don’t wanna let you out of my sight.”

You nod, nearly imperceptible as your mouths meet again, passion driving the kisses now as you squirm in his lap, desire igniting every cell of your body. Joel chuckles against your already puffy lips and shakes his head.

“Gonna ruin me, you know that?”

Three months later, Joel proposes to you in a park you frequently walk in together, a perfectly sunny and breezy spring day with the smell of fresh blooms surrounding you. You have on a pink dress, matching the explosion of color around you in the budding and blossoming trees and bushes. Joel wraps a hand around yours before getting down on one knee and revealing a solitaire diamond in a black velvet box, promising you all of the things you’d revealed to him in private months before. Someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to you. Succeed together in all the ways you’ve always wanted. Cherish you. And most importantly, love you for who you are.

#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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