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jexnkookie · 6 months ago

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The Law of Attraction (Lawyer!Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 1]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism] Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: I have this listed as "part one", because I may want to continue it in the future! This is just an idea that I've had floating around in my head, and I really haven't been inspired to write more of my other story lately, so why not put this out? If you'd like more of this story, please let me know and I can possibly continue it, if it's something y'all are interested in!

(It got another part)

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

New York City is always bustling on a Monday morning. Crowds of people piling onto the sprawling connection of subway, buses and sidewalks on their way for another week of hard work. Jung Kook was among them, wearing a discounted, freshly pressed suit, and a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee in his hand. AirPods in his ear, he let the newest pop playlist cover up the sound of the crowded street on his way to his new office. There was a little, barely noticeable pep in his step, hinting at his excitement for his first day.

His office building was rather large, even by his own metrics. Coming from Seoul, Jung Kook was no stranger to towering buildings, but this fresh law office had something glistening about its structure. As he entered through the front rotating tour, scanning the pass in his lanyard to be let in, any seasoned attorney would quickly recognize the wide-eyed young man as an ambitious rookie.

“Jung Kook!” A voice called out from across the lobby. Jung Kook stopped walking and looked up, scanning the room to see Mr. Kim Namjoon, one of the best defense attorneys he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, greeting him with a dimpled smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” Jung Kook responded, quickly making his way over to greet him.

“Aish, Jung Kook. Call me Namjoon.” He smiled shyly. “We’ll be working together as partners, I won’t be just a mentor to you anymore. I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“Right, of course.” Jung Kook grinned. “Thank you for bringing me here, I’m really excited.”

“That’s great to hear.” Namjoon’s voice was warm and sincere. “I wasn’t sure how’d willing you’d be to leave Korea, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it um…” Jung Kook pauses, thinking to himself for a moment for the right words to say. “It was a move that was for the best.”

Namjoon kept a smile on his face, but furrowed his brows just briefly as he read into the younger man’s explanation. Not wanting to press too much, he motioned Jung Kook to follow him to the elevator. They walked together with comfortable conversation, questions about Jung Kook’s move to the city and his commute. As the elevator took them high above the rest of the city, Jung Kook’s finger absentmindedly tapped on the coffee cup he held, jitters taking over.

“We had a case come in that I think you’ll be perfect to help me with.” Namjoon said, leading Jung Kook to his new office overlooking the city. There was an unorganized set of case files already on the desk. “You can put your stuff here, please make this space your own. The case is centering a Korean family, actually, so I thought maybe the two of us could connect with them on that level. Wealthy family, they’ve been doing business in the States a long time. But the son of the founder just recently inherited the company, and he’s being accused of defrauding investors. I need you to look over the case, and tell me what you think.”

Jung Kook nodded as he took his seat at his desk, opening up the file to read the defendant’s name, Park Jimin. The name sounded oddly familiar to him, but he brushed it aside as he read the details of the case.

“…Coaxed into investments using fraudulent and misleading data and projections…” Jung Kook read out loud, under his breath, before looking up at Namjoon. “So, he allegedly massaged the numbers into looking bigger than they are, leading to an increase of investments.”

“Hm.” Namjoon hummed, leaning against the door frame. “Then when the actual numbers came in, and they were nowhere close to what he had projected, he didn’t have the money to pay out. Now it’s our problem.”

“Yeah, ok.” Jung Kook nodded. “I have some ideas but I’d like to ask him some questions.”

“Perfect. I’ll give you his contact info, but he should be flying into the city tomorrow. He wants to meet with us anyways, he just needed a little time.”

“For what?”

“He recently got engaged.” Namjoon responded nonchalantly, scrolling through the contacts in his iPhone. “She comes from a wealthy family from Busan, apparently. Their fathers knew each other, since they’re both from the city..”

“Oh, they’re both from my city, I knew his name sounded familiar.” Jung Kook acknowledged. “Since her family is wealthy, maybe I’ve heard of them, too. What’s her name?”

“Aish, I can’t remember…” Namjoon thought for a moment. “Mr. Park mentioned her, and now my mind is blanking.”

The two startled when Namjoon’s phone rang. Namjoon apologized before stepping out to take the client’s call, leaving Jung Kook with his case files to further review. The rest of the day passed for the new, young lawyer, buried in a mountain of papers and taking notes. Namjoon peeked into his office on occasion to bring him coffee, or chat, or ask him about the case. But it was a slow, calm first day.

As was the next day, and the day after that. Jung Kook got into a routine as the weeks passed, feeling a growing sense of familiarity with the way that he was able to bury himself in his work. It was a nice way to briefly consume himself and chase away the loneliness of the last two years of his life.

He slowly made friends at his new firm. Never the extrovert, he was shy at first and afraid to open up. But knowing Namjoon for several years gave him a foot in the door, and allowed him an entry way into conversations that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. They asked about his life back home, and never dug too deep when he gave vague answers. He appreciated that, and his colleagues grew to like the handsome young lawyer.

Finally, on a Friday, as the week was winding down and Jung Kook was thinking of possible weekend plans, Namjoon quickly walked into his office after a brief warning knock to his door.

“We have a surprise meeting with Mr. Park.” Namjoon explained. “He just flew in from Seoul with his fiancé, and called me to say they want to meet with us. They’ll be here in a few minutes, so grab your notes and meet me in the conference room.”

Jung Kook’s eyes widened and he responded with a quick “ok”, before gathering up his collection of papers into a manila folder, and walking to meet Namjoon, stopping momentarily only to grab another quick cup of coffee to make sure he was alert. Being his first client meeting since joining the firm, he wanted to make sure he was at his best.

Settling into the conference room, Jung Kook looked over his notes, and made sure to have a pen to write down anything he may need later. He could see a light reflection of himself in the wall of windows facing the rest of the office, which he used to make sure his hair and suit looked presentable. He was hoping that with the money he made off of this case, he could buy a new, nicer suit like the one he saw in a shop window that he passed by not long ago.

His thoughts of a modest suit however were quieted by the presence of what he knew immediately to be his client walking down the office halls, nearing the conference room. Dressed in a luxurious, designer black suit and Louboutin loafers, Park Jimin was striking at first glance. He hid his eyes behind black sunglasses despite being indoors, and his dyed blonde hair complimented his glowing complexion and lush, pink lips. He looked expensive, the textbook definition of an heir.

The woman by his side looked gorgeous, Jung Kook thought. She was also beautifully dressed, in a sharp, maroon pencil dress and heels, with sunglasses also covering her eyes. Her Chanel bag dangled off her shoulder, her head was down, and her hand was intertwined with Mr. Park’s as they walked.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted with a bow as he opened the door for the couple. “How was the flight in?”

“It was excellent, thank you. Please, call me Jimin.” Jimin responded, taking off his sunglasses, before turning his attention to Jung Kook. “Hello, I’m not sure we’ve met.”

“Jeon Jung Kook. I’ve just recently been added to look over the case.” Jung Kook smiled, standing up from his chair to bow. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Park Jimin.” Jimin introduced himself. “And this is my fiancé, Y/N.”

Y/N. Jung Kook repeated in his head, his eyes widening. It’s not possible.

You took off your glasses before bowing to Namjoon, and raised to meet Jung Kook’s eyes. Your expression matched his own, recognizing the man instantly.

“Jung Kook?” You smiled warmly. “Jeon Jung Kook? Oh my God, what a small world!”

“You two know each other?” Namjoon asked with a raised brow. He looked over at the young lawyer, who was staring at you with large eyes and parted lips.

“Jung Kook is an old classmate of mine.” You explained to Namjoon and your fiancé. “We went to the same university ages ago, when we were still living in Busan.”

This was Jung Kook’s worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. Here you were. You. Just as warm, beautiful, and personable as ever. Just as clueless as ever. It was amazing how you could be such an angel, but put him through so much pain, and not even know it.

“How have you been?” You asked with an innocent, bright grin. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“I-I’ve… been good.” Jung Kook stuttered, causing the other men in the room to look at him with growing suspicion.

“Honey, I don’t know that you’ve ever mentioned a Jung Kook.” Jimin said in a sweet tone directed at you, while his eyes judgmentally looked Jung Kook up and down. Namjoon nervously watched the interaction, waiting to bud in at any opportune time.

“We just had a couple classes together.” You explained. “Jung Kook, wasn’t it um…”

“History.” He finished your sentence, quicker and more deadpan in his tone than what he meant to. “And our political science class.”

“That’s right!” You nodded. “I remember you were always so smart, I guess it makes perfect sense you practice law now.”

“We’re happy to have him on the team.” Namjoon interjected, walking over to Jung Kook’s side of the table. He noted how Jimin still seemed unsure of Jung Kook’s mannerisms, and wanted to press on with the meeting. “Let’s get started, I’m sure the two of you have plans for the evening.”

Everyone took their seat, and Jung Kook stared at the blank notepad in front of him. He could feel Jimin’s eyes on him, but pretended not to be bothered. He scribbled down the date on the paper, desperate to not meet the client’s gaze.

“So, we reviewed the case.” Namjoon began, seeing how Jimin’s death stare didn’t shake from Jung Kook as he spoke. “We think that we have an excellent shot at winning, and to be completely honest, we’re expecting the judge to throw the case out.”

“That’s great news!” You said excitedly. “Honey, you’ve been so worried about this.”

Jimin looked at you, his eyes softening and a soft smile appearing. He rested a hand on your thigh, and looked over towards Namjoon.

“That is great news. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Jung Kook has been reviewing the case for several days now, and he put together a couple arguments that we’ll present to the court, and have this ordeal finished, so you can move on.”

“Y-Yeah, so um…” Jung Kook started, the weight of everyone’s stare feeling heavy and thick in the air. He was careful to avoid your eyes in particular, sure that his reaction would be less than professional. “First of all, the numbers allegedly presented to investors were never your numbers, Mr. Park, they were the numbers that your father had supposedly projected. The suit is filed against you, not the company, so we can argue that you cannot be held personably liable for any losses. A-Also, there’s no um… There’s no physical evidence of these exact projections being shown that the plaintiffs presented so um… We could argue insufficient evidence.”

If Jung Kook were brave, he’d look up from his notes to see the way you grinned at him with the same, beautiful smile he used to see walking across campus every day. If he were brave, he’d tell you how beautiful that smile, and the rest of you, have always been to him.

If he were brave, he would’ve told you that a long time ago. But Jung Kook has never been brave. Not then, and definitely not now. Not when his client is shooting daggers at him from across the table, and a sparkling 24k gold and diamond on your finger reminds him of the thing he’s always known; you’re too good for someone like him. You deserve more.

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan.” Jimin said calmly, eyeing the young lawyer up and down, before turning his attention to you. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I think Mr. Jeon has this whole thing figured out. What do you think, darling?”

“I agree.” You blushed at your fiancé’s uncharacteristic public affection. “He’s always been so smart.”

“It seems so.” Jimin responded. “In that case, I believe we can wrap up this check-in meeting. I’d like to take my love out to dinner tonight. It’s her first time in New York City.”

“Is it?” Namjoon’s voice was pleasant but quick as he spoke. “Well, let’s not keep you two waiting. Thank you for coming in, and we’ll be in touch. Please, Mr. Park, don’t be afraid to reach out to either of us if you need anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jimin said, getting up from his chair and helping you out of yours before bowing to the lawyers.

“Jung Kook, it was so nice to see you.” You said, waving at him while Jimin placed a hand on your back to lead you from the room. “Thank you for working on this for us.”

“O-Of course.” He bowed. “You two have a nice night.”

With that, Jimin led you away from the room and down the office, and Jung Kook watched as he took your hand in his and caressed your skin with his thumb. It amazed him how even after all this time, seeing you with another man makes his chest ache.

“So….” Namjoon’s irritable voice said, leaning against the table. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?”

“It’s nothing.” Jung Kook responded quietly, cleaning up his papers to avoid making eye contact. “Just an old classmate.”

“Nothing?” Namjoon asked with a scoff. “Our client just burned a hole through you with his glare the entire meeting, and you want to call that nothing?”

“I want to go home.” Jung Kook said with growing frustration. “I promise, it’s nothing. It’s just been a hard first few weeks, ok?”

Jung Kook was headed out the door quickly, when Namjoon grabbed his arm to make him stop for a moment.

“If something is going on with our client’s fiancé… if there’s a history there or whatever, you need to let me know so we can manage this. We can’t lose Jimin as a client, we’d both be out of a job. He brings in too much money.”

“What, does he get into this type of shit a lot or something?”

“What do you think?” Namjoon asks. “It’s part of the job, dealing with rich clients that have more money than sense. They didn’t teach you that in class? Or were you too busy ogling her?”

“It’s really nothing.” Jung Kook said, this time more calmly through gritted teeth. “I just need to go home.”

Namjoon sighed as Jung Kook left the room, and cursed his luck with the obvious situation under his breath.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #the law of attraction #lawyer!jungkook #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin fanfic #jimin fic

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riaki · 1 year ago

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guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !

lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.

lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?

lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.

lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.

lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.

lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.

lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.

lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.

lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.

lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.

lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.

lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.

lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.

lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.

lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.

lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.

you: [ one image attached ]

lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽

bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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girlokwhatever · 7 months ago

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ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- end of beginning,, pt.2

part one

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

you got ready in record time. the combination of your nerves and excitement together spurred you into a frenzy, encouraging you to bounce around your hotel room like you were being rushed.

emily said she’d pick you up soon, causing you to hurriedly make the finishing touches on your look tonight. there was that feeling still, deep down, that you wanted desperately to impress her.

the shared conversation you had echoed in your mind the moment the two of you departed. she asked you out to dinner. your mind teetered on the line between two ideas: she wanted closure so you two could be teammates without your history getting in the way, or, maybe she hasn’t moved on.

you think in some ways you have, but was that even true? if emily came to you with a confession of love that she never let go of, what would you do?

there wasn’t time to ponder the thought because your phone dinged. it was a simple message from emily telling you she’s here. ‘waiting for you outside’ she said, simple but enough to make your heart beat faster. you gathered your essentials and left the ghost-like hotel room to meet emily outside.

when you caught sight of her, leaning against her car, hands buried deep in her pockets and ankles crossed, you knew you were done for. she looked so beautiful, no less than you remember.

“hey, sorry, i know i’m a bit early.”

“it’s all good, i was ready anyway.”

she eyes you up and down, smiling to herself because she recognizes the bracelet you’re wearing. it’s one of the many she bought for you during your relationship. a token of her love for you.

“i was thinking we could get some hibachi, your hotel is kinda close.”

you nod, affirming it’s a pleasant choice. the car ride there is filled with simple conversation. you realize it’s the kind of conversation you’d have with someone you barely know, but then again, it’s been two years since you’ve seen emily.

she is different. but so are you.

“okay i’m gonna warn you, i’ve heard mixed reviews about this place.”

the two of you had been seated almost ten minutes ago and still haven’t been given drinks. you didn’t mind much but you could tell by her bouncing leg that emily was losing patience.

“and you didn’t feel like that was worth mentioning earlier?”

“well i remember you like hibachi and this is the only place i know of that serves it.”

she’s giving you a playful shrug as her fingers toy with the lanyard attached to her keys. you can’t help but let your eyes linger, watching her facial features shift slightly when she breaks eye contact or noticing the almost invisible shake in her hands. she seems much more reserved, a lot quieter than you know her to be.

“hey do you remember that time,” she smiles as she pauses to collect her thoughts, “when we got hibachi and the guy accidentally burnt you with the shrimp?”

“oh my god- yes. i still, to this day, have no clue how he managed to flip it on me instead of the stove.”

“dude that was classic. i mean, unfortunate for you but definitely funny.”

emily leans back against the wooden chair, relaxing into the seat. she was looking at you again and still smiling at the contagious happy memory. it was a popular story to tell during your relationship.

“yeah okay, but when i mention that time in the park when you fell on your face it’s not funny?”

“no. you threw the ball way too high. i don’t even know how you threw the football like that.”

“from practicing when we went to the beach that one time, remember? we’d throw the ball on the beach at night.”

all the recounts of priceless stories never to be forgotten makes your chest swell with fondness. to see the way emily smiles when talking about them warms your heart even more because she’s genuinely happy and you sense no resentment in her tone. she’s appreciative of the time she got to spend with you, even if it was short-lived.

“i don’t think i could ever forget that. it was the best vacation of my life for sure. it was so good, school had kinda been stressing me out and all so i was just happy to get away with you. i remember our first night there you wore that really pretty dress, the white one, and you asked me to take pictures of you at sunset but it was so windy and you kept getting mad. oh my gosh you were so mad. i still have the one picture where you’re pulling that piece of hair out of your mouth and you got so upset because i took the picture and sent it to myself. but you looked so beautiful anyway, it was good.”

you don’t say anything, too shocked to properly collect yourself. though you knew ex’s could be friends, you weren’t aware it was like this. you’re in awe of her really, feeling your cheeks grow warm at her compliments of your beauty.

your eyes stay trained on emily but she’s looking straight ahead at the wall, rummaging through all her memories containing you. you’re all she can think about in this moment and she’s not aware how obvious that simple fact is. she was too lost in thought, too busy missing her past to realize her word vomit.

“i remember too how an ocean wave knocked you over and you got a bunch of sand in your hair,” she leans back further, trying to submerge herself in the memory. “and i had to help you wash it out that night cause your arms were tired. then for the rest of the week you made me go in the ocean with you every time so i could help hold you up, i think i can still feel how tight you’d grip me when a wave came. and we’d always get burnt cause we’d float together for ages. but i didn’t even care because i was just happy to be there with you. nothing else mattered to me.”

the intensity of her words finally dawn on emily, immediately stiffening and clearing her throat. the air between you is thick and her confession weighs in the space between. you have no idea how to react or what you could possibly say to her, but you don’t have to because someone is finally asking what you want to drink.

the rest of dinner was tense with very few shared words. every now and then emily would comment on the quality of the food and you’d say nothing in return.

what could you say?

the ride back to your hotel was even worse. the soft hum of the radio and an occasional road bump was the only noise to fill your space. your eyes stayed glued on the sunset out the window the entire time, trying to remember how you ended up in this situation.

you thought back on everything. from the moment emily asked you to be her girlfriend, the moment you broke up with her, to earlier in the night when she asked you out to dinner. anecdotes of your shared past with her flooded your mind and refused to leave. it wasn’t until she parked at your hotel that they drained, leaving you with a teary waterline and regrets of past decisions. and current ones.

“thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“yeah, no problem.” silence lingered as you climbed out of her passenger seat but once you were about to shut the door she spoke up again, “i’m sorry.”

but it was too late and she wasn’t even sure if you heard her because you just kept walking. shaky breaths and silence consumed the walk back to your room, nothing in your mind but blame on yourself.

you should’ve said something, acknowledged her admission and reciprocated it. instead you sat there silently and visibly watched her shrink in on herself.

you were a coward.

you were a coward back then when you broke up with her, not able to face the uncertainty change would bring. it had only gotten worse. you realized that maybe some things don’t ever change.

the harsh opinion you harbored for yourself only made you feel worse. once you reached your room the tears began to fall one by one down your face, a pent-up sob escaping you from your spot on the bed.

emily was still parked outside, watching the time pass by. with each minute she debated on going inside, straight to your room. she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do or say when she got there, but she just wanted to see you again.

it had been thirteen minutes since you left. thirteen minutes since she saw you. thirteen minutes since the opportunity to win you over again had passed. thirteen minutes sitting in silence waiting for you to text her something, anything. but you never did.

she couldn’t leave knowing she didn’t try.

so she didn’t. she remembered seeing your key card, your floor and room written across it in bold lettering. that’s where she found herself now, standing on your floor gathering the courage to just knock.

finally she did, hearing you shuffle on the other side of the door. she could swear a drop of sweat was dripping down her forehead, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe at it.

“emily?”

“can i talk to you?” she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up, “please?”

“yeah.. are you okay?”

“are you?” emily looks at your face, makeup disrupted by wet streaks and eyes slightly red, red enough to be noticed. her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, pushing her way into the cold room. you don’t answer, instead busying yourself with shutting the door and turning the lights on.

“can i sit down?”

“go for it.”

she props herself up on the end of your bed, hands resting on her bouncing knees as you approach. you lean against the wall a few feet away as she begins to speak.

“i’m sorry for dinner, if it made you feel weird or anything. i think i should tell you, just get it out of the way, that i still think about you. all the time. and, like, i miss you. i know we’ve both probably changed and we’re different people now, i get it. but nothing, nothing, amounts to the way i felt with you. when i saw you today i felt like old me again. i want nothing more than to be like that again.” emily catches her breath, the jumbled confession coming so suddenly. “i went back to louisville last summer, just to see jeff and stuff. being there reminded me of you. i felt better there because i felt like part of you was there with me.”

she looks at you expectantly, waiting for some type of reaction. you just stare at her with an unreadable expression, tears dipping at the corners of your mouth and you bring a gentle hand up to wipe them away.

“do you ever..” she buries her head in her hands, dragging them down her face, “do you ever feel that way? tell me you don’t and i’ll leave if you want me to. i just have to know so that i can move on with my life.”

“emily..”

“it’s okay” she whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

she stands, tucking her flyaways behind her ear. your eyes connect with a silent message as you try to find the right words. you turn your head away from her direction because you feel like she’s peering into you, dissecting every thought and tearing you apart to find what she wants.

“i think about you all the time.”

it’s short but effective. emily’s heart skips a beat and so does yours, the gap between your bodies lessening.

“getting on the court with you again was so amazing and for that reason alone i’m happy to be here. i left louisville because i couldn’t do it without you. and i spent, oh my god, so many nights regretting my decision. i miss you emily. i’ve missed you for two years.”

neither of you have any words left as she surges toward you, pulling your body into hers. your lips meet in a passionate kiss to make up for lost time, finding peace within one another. emily holds the back of your head to press you as close as possible because she fears you’ll slip away again if she doesn’t. she finally has you back, nothing is taking that away from her.

you’re the first to pull away, placing your forehead against her own. your noses rest side by side, lips touching and fingers tangled in hair as you both pant from loss of breath. you’re so relieved that you’re almost convinced it can’t be real.

there’s no negative feelings plaguing either of you anymore, finally feeling complete.

the rest of the night is spent with tangled limbs and gentle kisses to pass the time. she never leaves your embrace and you don’t leave hers, feeling content right where you are.

you can finally wave goodbye to the end of your beginning with emily, ready to move into the next chapter with her.

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

thank you @astroph1les for literally giving me all the motivation to do this

i hope no one forgot about pt.1 i know it’s been a minute 😬😬😬🤗

not spell checked yet but it will be later!!

pls enjoy!!!!!!!

382 notes · View notes

gothcsz · 5 months ago

Text

Need To Know | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~8.6k wc | Part 3 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The aftermath of Javier knowing who his gatita is.

Tags: stalking, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, sex in front of a mirror, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), spanking, creampie, pwp, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, we're altering canon timeline just a bit, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i had every intention of making this a three part series but i'm just... in love with these two so expect maybe one or two more works with them 🖤 this one's for all my s3 javi truthers out there. i see you, i recognize you, we stand together 🙂‍↕️ mwah, disfruten 💋

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

“Stoddard, my office. Now.”

The younger agent just about craps his pants at his boss’s authoritative tone, getting looks from both Feistl and Van Ness.

“Someone’s in trouble.”

There’s a few hushed laughs as the door to Javier’s office closes. He goes to sit at his desk, pulling out your press lanyard, which is right next to the envelope that holds your naughty polaroids, from the top drawer and he hands it across to him.

“Have you seen this woman before?”

The second Stoddard recognizes your face, he blinks rapidly and swallows thickly before attempting to disguise his reaction with an unconvincing shake of his head.

“No boss.”

Javier laughs humorlessly, scratching at his jaw.

“Alright let’s try that again, except this time you’re going to tell me the truth.”

And just like that, Stoddard folds. He tells his superior everything; from the run ins at the market to the almost weekly debriefs you two shared in various coffee shops around the city.

So that’s how you’ve been getting information. Using that grit of yours that’s driven him crazy since the first night you showed up. Enlisting in the help of a more… timid agent.

But he’s sure that any man you approached would have crumbled like Stoddard, abandoning anything to fulfill whatever you asked of him.

After all, you’ve got Javier, the boss, wrapped around your finger— completely at your mercy. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

The silence that settles is thick until Javier asks, “Did you sleep with her?”

Stoddard’s reaction is almost cartoonish. His eyes widen, and this time, he gives a more frantic, convincing head shake. “N-no sir absolutely not!”

He just had to make sure, despite you telling him that it’s only been him. Though that could have easily been a heat of the moment thing.

Once upon a time, he was the one sleeping around for information, so it wouldn’t be far-fetched to think that you were doing the same.

Kind of hypocritical of him to be worked up over the prospect of you indulging in similar antics.

Anything to get a good story— so why not fuck with the DEA’s head?

He’s not usually this possessive over his partners, but you’re unlike any of the others and it’s aggravating how you’ve got him wound up so tight.

“Next time you want to feed information to the press, you tell me first. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Go.”

He dismisses the younger agent and Stoddard eagerly departs. Javier’s never seen him move that fast.

His initial reaction to knowing your identity was to track you down and immediately confront you. But after many contemplative drinks and cigs; he decided against it.

It was too impulsive, and he wasn’t sure what he would do once he was face to face with your unmasked countenance.

The downfall of Cali had also put a pin in his plans, with him so wrapped up in finding then reprimanding the right people— all the while watching his back from the assholes on Uncle Sam’s side.

Now, after doing all that he could in his fucking job, he’s able to return to this, to you, with much less on his shoulders. For the time being.

He asked his secretary about you next, and that’s where he figured out where he remembered you from.

“She called and asked for a meeting weeks ago, but as per your request; I told her no can do.”

Then you proceeded to wait outside for him, despite the pouring rain, and he had regrettably blown you off.

To his defense, he was dealing with a lot of bullshit that day (as he always is) and didn’t have the time to stop and chat with a pretty reporter.

He then asked the security guard that was working the night you visited his office if he recognized you, to which the older man immediately said, “Si, su prometida.”

He found himself smirking at that, amusement curling at the edges of his mouth.

“¿Tiene vídeo de seguridad de esa noche?”

And with that, he was able to see how you conned your way up to his floor and into his office. There was no audio, just the visual of you leaning over the desk and using your body to distract this poor old man, your hand raising to show off the ring, then you excitingly striding over to the elevator that was off screen.

He supposes he should be alarmed, wary of you, but he isn’t.

He’s dealt with the media and journalists countless of times, he knows how relentless they can get. It’s no surprise that you share the same characteristic.

It’s all piecing together. Catalyst, motive, execution. Though he does wonder why exactly you’re doing this.

Was it to get ahead of any story pertaining to Cali? Maybe something else that’s unraveling beneath Javier’s nose that he hasn’t sniffed out yet?

Your motive is lost on him, which is why he needs to launch a small, personal investigation of his own to figure out what exactly you’re after.

He stakes out your job for a day but you never come in and it makes him antsy. He could pull some strings, do some flirting around the embassy to get information on an American journalist working in the capitol.

But he won’t. Instead, he takes a page from your book— even though he has no idea that you’ve been the one watching him all this time.

Then it happens. You show up, instantly capturing his attention.

The sun bathes everything in a golden light, but it seems to focus especially on you, making you glow as you bound up the steps of the building.

You’re wearing a pretty dress that momentarily short-circuits his brain, gaze lingering on how well it fits your figure.

Vivid images of your body writhing beneath his, shaking the desk while he fucked you senseless, cloud his mind and his jaw tenses.

He’s torn, flitting through the outcomes of how a confrontation would go if he were to do it now, when you reemerge from the building, heading back down the street you came.

Javier decides to follow you.

He watches as you stop to have lunch, chatting with the waitress that tends to you as you sit outside, notebooks spread out on the table with your head bowed over them in concentration.

He wonders what you’re working on.

He watches as you run your errands; stopping by the dry cleaners to pick up your pressed blouses and pencil skirts.

After, you wander through an outdoor market, carefully selecting fresh fruit. That’s where he learns you have a particular fondness for mangos and plums.

Then lastly, a video store that you spend way too much time in before coming out, and he’s upset that he can’t tell what tapes you’ve rented out for the evening.

This is no different than any of the previous stakeouts he’s done, that’s how he rationalizes watching you for the rest of the week.

When he isn’t drowning in work at the office, he’s trailing you through the city, piecing together the details of your daily life.

He notices the subtle nuances that define you— the little habits and preferences that make you who you are.

Yet, despite all this observation, he still wonders how the fuck he’s going to confront you about it all.

Javier finally reaches his breaking point after a fruitless day of searching Bogotá for you.

Now, he’s back at his usual spot, parked outside your workplace, chewing his gum with a vengeance while his leg bounces restlessly in the cramped space of his car.

Fuck this.

He’s done with the cat-and-mouse game.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get your boss to lead him to your cubicle. The man even boasts about the view, claiming it’s the best in the city, before leaving Javier alone.

He studies the photos of you and friends from back home on your desk, postcards that you’ve been meaning to send, a kaleidoscope of colorful post-it notes with a variety of reminders and to-do’s scattered about.

Everything about you is vastly different from the gatita he knows.

His gaze settles on your address book, tucked discreetly between binders and folders. After a quick glance around to ensure no one is watching, he slides it out, flips it open, and quickly scribbles down your apartment and phone number before carefully placing it back in its original spot.

Looking out of the window, he notices the panoramic view of the city; with the embassy building in perfect line of sight. That can’t be a coincidence.

He leaves after that, resolute on making his way to your apartment, when his mobile phone begins to ring.

Muttering a quick fuck, he answers.

“Peña.”

“Es Carolina. I’m ready to meet.”

The President of Colombia’s campaign was partially funded by the cartel in return for amnesty deal.

Cartel members are now being extradited to the United States.

It’s all big. fucking. news. You’re rushing to la Casa de Nariño just like every other reporter is, all eager to get the best seat at the impromptu press conference that’s being held.

With your camera, recording device and determination in hand, you’re racing up the marbled steps to join the crowd when you’re stopped by an officer.

“Sólo personal y la prensa pueden pasar por este punto.”

“Yo soy reportera.” You hiss, narrowing your gaze.

“Pruébalo. Identificación, por favor.”

He gives you a look that makes you want to knock his teeth out but you refrain from doing so, grumbling out some expletives and reaching for the familiar lanyard around your neck… only to find it gone.

Your confusion is written all over your face and the officer flashes you a shit-eating grin.

“Sin identificación no hay entrada.”

You were so eager to get here that you hadn’t thought twice about it since you always have it on you.

Pissed off that you’re being denied access because of your own oversight, you turn on your heel and quite literally stomp all the way back to your car.

You can feel that smug asshole staring you down.

You search between the seats of your car, finding nothing but crumpled receipts and loose change— even that tube of lipgloss you’d lost forever ago, but no lanyard.

It has to be at your apartment. After everything that happened with Javier, you took some much-needed time off work to clear your head and regain your focus. You haven’t set foot in the office for a few days now, and even the last time you were there, it was just a quick visit—no reason for you to have brought it along.

Fuck, you hope you’re able to make it back in time to catch some semblance of the story. If not that, then at least to snap some good photos of the aftermath.

What a rookie-fucking-move. And today of all days.

Your heels and pencil skirt make the four-flight sprint to your floor a challenge, but you’d rather tackle the stairs than endure the agonizingly slow elevator that creeps up the building like a dying snail.

With hurried hands, you unlock the door and dash inside, immediately diving into the piles of magazines on your coffee table. When you find nothing, you frantically search every corner of the room, but your efforts come up empty.

A groan of frustration escapes your lips, and you mutter a string of curses under your breath as you head toward your bedroom.

This morning, you distinctly remember closing the door behind you. Now, it stands wide open, but in your haste, the irregularity doesn’t register.

As you step inside, your heart plummets to your stomach, the sensation akin to that gut-wrenching drop on a terrifying amusement park ride.

There, dressed in a navy suit with his hands on his hips is Javier Peña, studying the shrine you’ve made of him on the wall.

How the fuck did he get in?

Your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, the room spinning. Despite knowing that you’re standing right there; his focus remains ahead.

“You’re very detailed.”

You’re trembling now, the weight of your secret being exposed dragging you down as if cinderblocks have been chained to your ankles and you’re being thrown into a bottomless pit.

What do you say? What is there to say?

Oh hey Javier! Yeah don’t mind that. It’s not like I’ve been stalking you for weeks. That’s absurd!

“Why— how—” Your voice sounds so small, the words failing to form on your tongue and this has him finally turning to face you.

The urgency you felt before is now long gone and replaced with crippling anxiety and embarrassment. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as you stare into those captivating brown eyes of his.

“Figured I’d be a good person and return this to its owner.”

He pulls the goddamn press lanyard from inside of his jacket pocket, and your eyes widen in shock.

That night in his office. Surely you must’ve left it there unknowingly. Idiot!

He tosses it carelessly onto your dresser, his gaze never breaking yours, as he slowly begins to close the distance.

Your pulse quickens with each step he takes, the space between you shrinking until you can taste the tension in the air.

“Javi—”

“Shh,” he hushes, beginning to circle you, moving with the deliberate grace of a predator closing in on its prey.

The tables have turned. It’s his turn to wield the power.

You obey, instinctively biting your lower lip as his eyes rake over you, drinking in the sight of your work attire.

They linger on the curve of your ass, then slide up to the way your blouse clings to your chest, tracing every contour.

A slow burn ignites within you, heat pooling at your core from the intensity of his presence.

“Wasn’t very hard to get your address and it was even easier convincing your landlord to let me in. The fiancé bit is genius, no wonder you used it down at the embassy.”

Shit, he knows about that too. You wonder just how much he’s figured out.

“You’ve been watching me for a while now, haven’t you gatita?”

You whimper, hearing the name out in broad daylight and without your mask on feeling taboo for some reason.

He finally positions himself behind you, his warm breath grazing your ear as he brushes your hair aside, exposing the vulnerable skin of your neck.

“Breaking into my apartment. My office.”

Before you can respond, his strong hands seize your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasp, feeling the undeniable pressure of his erection pressing against your ass as he grinds into you.

“Snooping around my employees.”

One of his hands slides up, fingers digging into your breast with a rough possessiveness that makes you moan, your head falling back onto his shoulder in surrender.

You gaze up at him, your breath hitching as his eyes slowly roam over your face, lingering on the curve of your cupid’s bow, the elegant arch of your brow, the softness of your cheeks—his admiration leaving you breathless, yearning for more.

“Getting everything you need for your stories then fucking with me on the side. Think you’re so clever, huh?”

The hand on your hip begins its descent, trailing down until his fingers are toying with the hem of your skirt. He lets them linger, teasingly brushing against the bare skin of your thigh just above the edge of your skin-toned stockings.

“I shouldn’t even be here giving you what you want. But you’ve got me wrapped around that beautiful little finger of yours. I couldn’t stay away even if I tried.”

A desperate sound escapes your lips as his fingers slowly glide to the inside of your thigh. His knee nudges your legs wider apart, allowing him to lightly graze over your slit, the barrier of your cotton panties doing little to dull the feeling.

What? You hadn’t expected to get laid today. Well… if all had panned out how you hoped— you actually would’ve been making another house call tonight after the press conference.

But he’s bested you. Beat you at your own game.

“Dime. ¿Que quieres?”

“You, Javi, I want you.”

“Is that why you’ve been following me around everywhere? Getting classified information on my operations?”

His thick fingers press firmly against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear, and your hips instinctively buck, seeking more of that delicious friction.

“Yes,” you moan softly, biting down on your lower lip as his thumb circles over your stiffened nipple, which strains against the fabric of your bra and silk blouse. “I was assigned to cover you and your involvement with Cali. After everything with Escobar, everyone was betting that you’d follow the same formula to bring the others down.”

Javier’s chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours and teeth gritting at the subtle mention of his tactics when it came to bringing down Escobar.

“But the more I got to know about you, the more interested I became.” You confess, the words spilling from you with unguarded honesty. There’s no reason to keep the cards so close to your chest anymore.

You’ll tell him everything, and if he decides to let you go after having his way with you one final time, then so be it.

You’ll just make sure to make it extra memorable for him if that’s the case.

“So handsome. So capable. Fucking brilliant and tough. I fell in love with you, Agente Peña.”

He grunts in response, leaning in so that his aquiline nose grazes the smooth skin of your cheek, his lips hovering just shy of yours.

“Is that right? La gatita fell in love?”

You nod timidly, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against his and kiss him.

His fingers continue their torment, now nudging your underwear aside to press directly against the slick, swollen flesh of your cunt.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body trembling in his arms as you feel the pressure building within you.

“So what happens if I don’t feel the same, hm? What if this is nothing but a good fuck to me? What then, clever girl?”

He teases your clit in slow, tight circles, his words cutting into your heart, but the pleasure he’s giving you drowns out the sting.

His touch is intoxicating, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Then I’ll get over it and move on,” you manage to whisper, grinding your hips in sync with his movements, your juices coating his fingers as he parts them into a V, massaging your sensitive labia.

A whiny moan slips out of you, and his hand moves from your breast to your throat, wrapping around it with a gentle squeeze.

“Mírame.”

His commanding tone snaps your eyes open, locking onto his. Their usual warm toned color now drowned in darkness to match his lust.

“Move on? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have?”

Without warning, he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, and your back arches against him, a breathy sigh of his name slipping from your lips.

“Wouldn’t even try to convince me otherwise, gatita?”

“What do I look like convincing a man to love me?”

Javier’s grip on your throat tightens, his jaw clenching at your words as his fingers thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. “You know I’m just bullshitting. I’m never letting you go.”

He curls his fingers, expertly brushing against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you that dots your vision, and you gasp, your nails digging into his forearm as a surge of ecstasy ripples through you.

You can’t tell if the words he’s saying are born from genuine emotion or just fueled by the ferocity of his horniness.

But in this moment, it doesn’t matter. You push the logical part of your mind aside and surrender to the sensation, allowing yourself to be consumed by his touch, his words, his passion— everything that drives you wild about him.

Javier finally claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth with an urgency that leaves you lovestruck.

You moan softly, sucking on his tongue before playfully nipping at his lower lip.

He grunts in response, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he shifts the rhythm of his fingers inside you, coaxing out every moan and whimper of bliss.

He swallows each sound greedily, deepening the kiss, making it clear that in this moment, he’s completely lost in you.

“That’s right, baby, come all over my fingers. I can feel you clenching around them.” He scissors his digits inside you, each movement drawing you closer to the edge.

Your wetness has smeared everywhere, squelching sounds of his fingers fucking you only helping him in his quest to make you come.

His cock grinds against your ass, hard and insistent, and the urge to reach down and palm him through his work slacks is overwhelming.

But the way he has you positioned, and the dizzying gratification he’s giving you, makes it impossible to do anything but take it.

“Javi,” you sigh, your voice trembling with need, “I’m so close. Dame un beso.”

He smirks, adding his thumb to the mix as he presses it firmly against your throbbing clit.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy, heated kiss just as your thighs begin to tense, and your orgasm crashes over you with breathtaking intensity.

You ride out the waves of aftershock, your lips parting from his as you struggle to catch your breath.

Javier’s mouth moves to your ear, whispering sweet words that make you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine, completely wrapped in the afterglow of him.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from you, and they’re coated in your release, glistening in the sunlight that pours in from your bedroom windows.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean and that makes you whimper, the familiar heat of arousal already rekindling deep in your core.

“Open that pretty mouth, gatita.”

Obediently, you part your lips, and he leans in close, letting a thick drop of his spit fall from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow.”

The command is electrifying, leaving you feeling all charged with a tension only Javier can elicit.

You swallow, the faint taste of yourself mixed with his saliva lingering on your tongue, and it’s the hottest, most intimate thing you’ve ever experienced.

He swiftly spins you around in his arms, and you instinctively wrap yours around his neck as your lips crash together in a passionate kiss.

The potency of it makes your head spin, and his hands are everywhere—exploring your curves, tracing the length of your body until they find the zipper of your skirt.

With a swift tug, he pulls it down and pushes it over your hips, letting it fall to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric. You step out of it, slipping off your heels in the process, all while your lips remain locked with his.

Your fingers eagerly push his suit jacket off his shoulders, and you waste no time unbuttoning his shirt, your hands shaking with anticipation.

“How much do you like this blouse?” he murmurs against your lips, his large hands moving up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric.

“I don’t really—”

Before you can finish, he’s ripping the blouse apart, buttons flying as he tears it open to reveal your bra-clad chest.

The sheer force of it catches you off guard, and you gasp, the sound muffled by his mouth on yours. The unrestrained eagerness in his action only serves to turn you on further, making your heart race even faster.

When you’re both stripped down just to your underwear, you begin to lead him to your bed but he stops you, once again pulling you back until you’re flush against his warm, solid chest.

“We’ve got plenty of other opportunities to fuck in bed. I want to take you right over here.”

His words have anticipation dancing up your spine as he gently steers you toward the large, full-length mirror in the corner of your room. When you’re standing in front of it, your eyes lock with his in the reflection.

“Look at how gorgeous you are, nena. Why would you hide such a pretty face behind a mask?”

Javier’s strokes your cheek affectionately, truly in awe with how beautiful you are. Then, his touch moves to your arms, and he drags one of your bra straps down your shoulder.

His lips follow the path of exposed skin with open-mouthed kisses, each one igniting a fire on your skin.

You let out a shaky breath. “You blew me off once. I didn’t want it to happen again. Thought keeping my identity a mystery would make me more enticing.”

His touch is deliberate, savoring every inch of your skin as he teases you. The sight of his sinewy hands on you, combined with his heated gaze in the mirror, makes your heart race and your core ache with need.

His nose glides up the curve of your shoulder until he’s kissing your neck. His tongue flicks out to trace a path up to your ear, biting down on the lobe gently.

“Don’t take it so personally, gatita,” he murmurs in a seductive purr. “I had a lot going on that day.” His fingers deftly undo the clasp of your bra, letting it fall and revealing your bare breasts.

A low groan escapes him as he takes in the sight. His hands move to cup your tits, relishing in their warmth and weight in his palms.

You shift restlessly, your thighs rubbing together as your breaths come in quick, ragged gasps. His fingers play with your nipples, pinching and tugging until they’re tender and stiff.

Desperate for more, you reach back between the two of you and grasp his hard cock. A pleased hum escapes you as you feel the damp spot of precum seeping through the cotton.

“Want you in my mouth, baby,” you coo, regaining your confidence as he smiles against your neck, planting a soft kiss on your pulse before stepping back to let you spin around and sink to your knees.

He swiftly pulls down his boxers, and you don’t waste a second. You envelop his fat tip between your lips, skipping the usual teasing.

Javier’s voice, deep and gravelly, drawls your name in a way that sends jolts of excitement straight to your clit. You move your head rhythmically, your tongue tracing along his underside as you blow him with eagerness, losing yourself in the act.

He grips the back of your neck, guiding you as he begins to thrust into your mouth, making you gag and drool over his cock.

“Shit, just like that,” he groans, his eyes shifting from looking down at you to the mirror, where he watches, absolutely satisfied, as you expertly suck him off.

Your mouth travels down to his balls, your tongue teasing the fleshy sack, saliva pooling in your mouth before spitting on them, then you suck one into your mouth.

He tenses, cursing fervently in Spanish as you move to the other, giving it the same attentive care while your hand wraps around his throbbing dick, stroking him.

“Such a fucking sight, gatita,” he growls. “Swallowing my cock like a good little slut. I’m tempted to paint that pretty face of yours with my cum.”

The thought of it has lustful excitement buzzing through you, a muffled moan vibrating against his cock that prompts him to pull you off roughly.

He grips the base of his shaft and smacks it a few times against your mascara, tear-streaked cheeks— it’s evidence of your eager submission. His cock, wet and heavy, leaves a trail of slickness on your skin.

He traces his plush head over the curve of your lips that are glimmering from the messy blowjob. You pucker up, pressing a fat, wet kiss to his flushed tip.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

You flash him a playful, cutesy smile, and he tenderly caresses your cheek again, making your heart skip a beat.

With a gentle touch, he kneels on the carpet alongside you, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before guiding you into position.

On all fours, facing the mirror, his broad, handsome frame looming behind you. Javier’s dark eyes meet yours through the reflection, intense and full of promise.

He’s going to give it to you good.

His hands trace the curves of your body, caressing and kneading with an adoring touch, cherishing the feel of every part of you.

It’s a contrast to the frantic pace of previous hook ups— much more like the sweet aftercare he gave you that night in his office.

Javier pulls down your panties, a lopsided smile playing on his lips as he takes in the sight.

You’re completely exposed in front of him.

“Tan hermosa, gatita.” he murmurs, his voice a husky caress. “You don’t understand how good it feels seeing all of you now. Fantasized about this so many nights.”

He bends over, his lips brushing tender kisses along the back of your shoulder, then trailing down the curve of your spine. You arch your back, instinctively responding to his touch.

The way you both connect so seamlessly speaks of the depth of your intimacy and how quickly it evolved.

“I tried to bury myself in other women,” he confesses. “It didn’t fucking work. No pussy is as good as yours.”

His name escapes you in a sweet whimper, “Javi,” and his hands grip the lush curves of your hips

You feel a twinge of jealousy bloom at your chest at hearing that he’s been with other women, while you have not even thought about another man since laying eyes on him.

“Accusing me of spreading my legs for the entire city, meanwhile it’s been you all along. I shouldn’t even let you fuck me, you whore.”

A sharp, stinging crack echoes through the room as his hand lands on your ass, the sudden impact making you jolt forward.

“Ah!” you yelp, the sting of the spank sending a rush of heat through you.

“No empieces con esas babosadas, gatita. I’ll make you eat your fucking heart out.”

“Sounds delicious,” you quip, your tone teasing and sultry.

Another spank lands, and you don’t bother hiding how much you enjoy it. Your reflection in the mirror smirks back at him, and you catch the sly, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“Traviesita,” he tuts in a reprimand. His length slides teasingly along your folds, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your clit.

The feeling is electrifying, causing your confident smirk to fade into a biting, anxious grip on your lower lip.

Your wetness mingles with his precum and your saliva from before, creating a slick, intoxicating lubricant that allows him to glide effortlessly into your tight, hot cunt.

Your face, heated with desire and utterly exposed, meets his gaze in the mirror as his cock slowly disappears into your pussy.

It feels profoundly intimate.

The weight of his thick cock filling you, coupled with that fucking look that he has on his face, deepens the connection and amplifies the feeling that you have for him, making the experience even more consuming.

It’s going to be so hard to move on if he decides you’re not what he wants.

Once he bottoms out, your head drops forward between your shoulders, a quivering exhale escaping your mouth and your arms lightly shaking.

The overwhelming fullness of him stretching you makes your entire being blaze with vehemence. Each inch of his cock that he feeds into your pussy ignites a cascade of euphoric delight, leaving you panting and needing more.

“Eyes on me, nena,” he commands softly yet firmly, a blend of authority and tenderness.

The demand to keep your gaze locked with his only heightens your senses. His gun calloused hands grip your waist with a steadying force, guiding you as he moves inside you.

It’s a downright delicious feeling, your folds gripping onto his shaft and spreading with each shallow thrust he delivers.

You admire how sexy he looks as he begins to fuck you. His brows furrowed in concentration, his jaw clenched tight, occasionally flexing with each thrust. Your cunt continues to swallow him back in, begging him not to go.

His pretty pink lips, so kissable and enticing, make you wish you weren’t bent over like this so you could taste them. But then he delivers a particularly forceful snap of his hips, making you cry out.

You instinctively move your ass back against him, your mind cleared of all thoughts that aren’t his girthy cock.

“Mira que bella te vez taking this cock. Fuck yourself on it, don’t be shy baby.”

You can’t help the flutter in your heart as he calls you beautiful, the compliment urges you to do as you’re told.

You slide your knees apart slightly, adjusting your position to get better leverage as he stills, cock pressed so deep inside of you, you can practically taste it coming up your throat.

You begin to move your hips slowly, sensually, setting a rhythm that lets him slip in and out of you with a deliberate, tantalizing pace.

It’s electrifying, your thighs slapping against his with each thrust. The ripple of flesh on your ass is captivating, drawing his attention completely.

Javier is torn between the sight of you splitting yourself open on his cock and the blissful, fucked-out expression that adorns your face. Both are equally mesmerizing, and he can’t decide which is more arousing.

“So fucking pretty,” he voices with a deep growl of approval, overwhelmed by the visual feast.

He lavishes you with praise in both English and Spanish, his words stoking the fire of your arousal. The way you move back against him grows more urgent, and his hands find their way to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to get a better view of the connection between your bodies.

Groaning deeply, Javier starts to match your rhythm, his thrusts synchronized with your movements. The pace you both settle into causes your core to tighten, the build-up of your second orgasm sneaking up on you with a mounting vigor.

Your knees ache from the friction against the carpet, but the discomfort blends with your fervor, pushing you closer to the edge of your climax.

As your eyes lock with his again, you convey that you’re on the brink wordlessly. He tilts his head with a patronizing smirk, his brown eyes dancing with a mischievous sparkle.

“Already, gatita?” he chuckles smugly, his voice laced with playful arrogance. “S’okay, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

His words are the final catalyst, and it’s both exhilarating and a bit embarrassing how quickly he makes you finish.

He’s the first man to ever make you come from just penetration, and you can’t help but let him revel in this achievement.

As you come, your pussy quivers and your walls pulse around him, your creamy release coating his cock while you scream out his name.

The eye contact makes it hotter, despite the struggle to keep yours open.

Javier continues to fuck you through your orgasm, even as you go limp, your arms giving out. Your chest falls onto the carpet, your cheek pressing against the textured fabric, completely surrendering to the blissful exhaustion that overtakes you.

He pulls out with a soft groan, his cock swollen and pulsating, glistening with your mixed juices. It rests between your ass cheeks as he bends over you, his lips trailing gentle, reverent kisses across your heated skin. He moves from your lower back up to your ear.

“¿Todo bien, corazón?”

The new term of endearment makes you moan softly, your head nodding in response, eyes closed as you struggle to catch your breath.

His mouth continues its tender assault, soothing you with its gentle touch, yet you can’t ignore the subtle way his hips grind against you, his shaft brushing against the soft skin of your ass and teasing your puckered hole.

“You didn’t finish.”

“I’m more focused on trying to get you out of the clouds than getting mine right now,” he replies, his sincerity cutting through the haze of your arousal.

You smile, his sweet statement pulling you back into the familiar, heady trance he always manages to put you in.

It reignites your lust, bringing you to the throbbing need he so effortlessly inspires.

You push yourself upright onto your knees, pressing firmly against him as his hands explore every part of you they can reach.

“On your back, agente,” you purr in a sultry and commanding tone.

His eyes narrow, curiosity and challenge evident, but he obeys, shifting away from you and laying flat on his back, positioning himself horizontally from the mirror.

The reflection is, for lack of a better word, hot as hell. His beautiful figure sprawled out on the floor, messy dick just waiting for you to take a ride.

You crawl over him with sensual grace, echoing the way you broke into his apartment on that rainy night, your mouth working to milk his cock.

As you reach his groin, you pause, your gaze meeting his. He’s already watching you intently, making you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. You give him a playful wink, then stick out your tongue, licking his shaft clean of your cum.

Your name vibrates in his chest, followed by a litany of expletives and you hum contently at the reaction. With a satisfied smile, you straddle his hips, positioning yourself perfectly above him.

“Think your back can handle this?” you tease, grinding your freshly fucked, sensitive cunt against his hard, naked cock. Leaning over him, you place your hands on either side of his head, your lips just inches from his.

His hands seize your ass with a rough grip, fingers digging into the flesh as he guides your hips to rock against his length. “Muñequita, don’t be such a tease. I’m letting you take whatever you want.”

“You’re not letting me do anything,” you breathe out, tightening your thighs around his hips, locking him in place.

He could easily overpower you, but he won’t. The sight of you on his lap, completely cock drunk with only his touch to satiate you—your breasts hanging enticingly close to his face, your pussy grinding along his length—is more than enough for him to relinquish control, something he rarely does.

But you’ve changed that for him, shifted his view on power dynamics in the bedroom.

Your hand wraps around his thick, veiny base, guiding him to your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto his cock, your head falling back as you take him in, inch by glorious inch.

The angle is perfect, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout. Your mouth falls open, breath catching in your throat as you nestle him fully inside, your walls squeezing around him.

It drives Javier wild, dark eyes focusing on the different expressions that flit across your beautiful countenance, seeing your face completely bare like this only strengthens his feelings for you.

Your hands slide up to rest on his broad chest, stabilizing yourself as you begin to swivel your hips in slow, sensual circles. The delicious drag of his cock slipping in and out of you sends shivers down your spine, and the room fills with the symphony of your shared moans and grunts, the wiry hairs at his base tickling your clit with each movement.

You grind down on him, rolling your hips in that way that’s supposed to feel good only for you. But with every tense of your muscles, every tight squeeze of your walls around him, Javier is utterly consumed by you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Now, it’s his turn to be drunk on you, completely overwhelmed by the way you command his pleasure.

The sight of the two of you in the mirror, bodies intertwined and moving together in perfect rhythm is like work of art— each motion a brushstroke on the canvas of desire.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Javier murmurs, one hand gripping your ass while the other moves up to roughly palm your tit, his fingers pinching your nipple.

“Mhm,” you hum, completely lost in the moment, focused entirely on the euphoria coursing through you. You feel his cock swell inside you, a clear sign that he’s on the precipice.

With a wicked grin, you change your rhythm, shifting from grinding to bouncing, your hands finding purchase on his strong thighs as you lean back.

The new angle gives him an unobstructed view of your pussy eagerly taking his cock, and the sight drives him wild.

“You’re so fucking hot, gatita,” he groans, watching as your breasts bounce with each movement. You ride him like a pro, your entire being burning with exertion, knowing full well that the delicious ache spreading through your muscles will leave you sore and satisfied for days to come.

He slips his thumb between his lips, coating it with saliva before pressing it firmly against your swollen, raw clit.

The suddenness rips a loud exclamation from you, causing you to lose your rhythm as you lean forward, breathless and overwhelmed.

His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking with a fervor that sends sparks of pleasure shooting everywhere.

As he bends his knees, he begins to thrust into you with relentless force, driving deep with every stroke. The combined assault of his mouth, cock, and thumb is too much to bear, you’re vibrating with pleasure that borders on pain.

“J-Javi, I can’t,” you cry out, tears welling up in your eyes, the intensity threatening to break you.

But he pulls away from your chest just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with ardor, though his thrusts never falter.

“You can and you will. No llores, hermosa. You know I’m going to take care of you.”

With a desperate need to kiss him, you press your mouth to his.

It’s messy and hungry as he continues to move you on his cock like you’re his living, breathing flesh light. He grunts against your lips, driving into you forcefully.

After a few more thrusts, his hips begin to stutter, and he pulls away from your lips, his voice strained. “Fuck, gatita, where do you want it?”

You trail kisses up his neck, tasting the salt of his skin before nipping at his ear. “Inside, please. Need to feel you fill me up, Javi. Want to feel your cum drip out of my pussy.”

You know it’s a reckless decision—you’re not on birth control, and the logical part of your brain knows better. But the overwhelming need coursing through you drowns out any sense of caution.

You’ll just make him get you the morning-after pill once this fevered moment passes.

Javier growls, landing a sharp smack on your ass. “I’m right there, baby, need you to come with me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the wet sounds of his cock pounding into you, the pressure building until that final snap at your core. You practically scream in his ear as your orgasm rips through you.

He’s right behind you, his grip on your body tightening as he buries himself deep inside, flooding your cunt with his release while your name falls from his lips.

The sensation is overwhelming, the two of you melding together in a heated, panting embrace until you collapse, bodies spent, hearts pounding wildly in sync as you come down from the high.

The bliss of your shared climax begins to fade and the reality of the situation starts to settle in.

The air between you shifts, the once burning passion giving way to a different kind of tension.

You pull back slightly, your bodies still entangled but your mind racing with everything left unsaid.

Javier is the first to speak, his voice low and gravelly. “So now that we’re past that… What happens next?”

You swallow, feeling the weight of his question. You’d known this moment would come, but facing it is another matter entirely.

You take a deep breath, fingertips tracing mindlessly against his chest, gathering your thoughts before you meet his smoldering gaze.

“Javi, I—” The words stick in your throat, and you force yourself to continue. “I never thought it would go this far. I was supposed to just watch, get information… But the more I learned about you, the more I couldn’t stay away. It became more than just a job.”

He studies you, his expression unreadable, and it makes your heart race for a different reason now. “You were stalking me for weeks,” he finally says, not accusing but stating a fact.

You nod, feeling a mix of guilt and something else—relief, maybe. “I know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But… I couldn’t help it. You’re not the man I expected. You’re more.”

His eyes soften just a fraction, the tension between you loosening. “And now that Cali has gone down? Where does that leave us?”

Your heart stutters at the use of us.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t expect to feel this way about you, and now… Now I don’t know what to do.”

Javier sighs, caressing your back “You’ve got me in one hell of a position, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way… So don’t feel like you have to reciprocate anything.” Though it pains you to admit this.

He looks at you for a long moment, and then, unexpectedly, he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, admiring your natural beauty. “I feel something for you, gatita. It confuses the shit out of me,” he mutters, “But… maybe we can figure all this out. Together.”

A wave of emotion washes over you, hope mixed with a little bit of fear. “You mean that?” It’s more than you could have asked for, really.

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not making any promises. But yeah, I’m willing to try. As long as you’re done with the secrecy.”

You nod, a small, relieved smile tugging at your lips. “No mas. I’m done with that.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Then we’ll see where this goes. One step at a time.”

As he pulls you into a gentle, lingering kiss, you feel a sense of tentative hope. How the fuck did you manage to walk out of this with such an extraordinary man?

“Wait—” you pull away from him, and Javier looks at you, confused, as you struggle to regain your thoughts. “Cali’s gone down. Fuck, the press conference.” You move off his lap, wincing as his softened cock slips out of you, followed by the warm trickle of his cum slipping down your inner thighs.

Your legs are wobbly as you head toward the restroom to clean up and get dressed.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he protests, rising to follow you. You hear him grunt as he stands, his joints popping in protest.

Javier catches up to you quickly, his hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you back to him and stopping you in your tracks.

“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the day wrapped up in you, I have a job to do.”

“Nena,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl, “we both know that press conference is long over. Besides…” His hand slips between your thighs, making you twitch as he gathers some of the release that has seeped out of you onto his fingers.

Bringing his digits up to your lips, he offers them to you, and you narrow your gaze at him, playfully annoyed that he’s able to flip your horny switch just like that.

Slowly, you stick out your tongue, licking his fingers clean as he watches you with a smirk.

“I can give you a better story,” he whispers, his fingers lingering at your lips.

“Better than the president being bribed by narcos?”

“In the same vain, but yes, anything you want. On the record,” he replies, his voice steady, revealing a seriousness that catches you off guard. “I resigned before coming here. Got a lot of stories saved away for a rainy day.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “You resigned? Why?”

“Tired of dealing with the bullshit,” he admits, his tone laced with a weariness you clocked the moment you met him.

Your mind races, a thousand questions bubbling to the surface. Each one competes for attention, your journalistic instincts kicking into overdrive. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something raw and real, that makes you pause.

“I can feel the gears turning in your head,” he murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips as he begins to gently guide you toward the bed.

You let him lead, your body moving on autopilot as your mind continues to spin.

When you reach the mattress, you sink into the soft sheets. Javier crawls in beside you, his presence warm and reassuring as he pulls the covers over both of you, even though it’s the middle of the afternoon.

“Can’t help it,” you admit, your thoughts still racing but slowing down as his familiar scent and warmth envelop you.

“I know,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. His lips trail slowly down your skin, his touch grounding you as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

The questions that had been buzzing in your mind begin to fade as you sink into the comfort of the bed and the feel of him against you.

There’s just one question that can’t wait.

“So, you’re leaving Colombia?”

He grunts against your neck, his lips still caressing your skin. “Yes.”

A pout forms on your mouth, and he immediately notices, his hand pinching your hip in response. “How are we supposed to make this work if you’re not going to be here, Javier?”

The way you use his full name makes him pause. He doesn’t like it, the distance it implies.

He pulls back, his fingers firmly gripping your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes meet his. “I was hoping you’d come with me. A little bird told me some of your work is being published stateside. What better time than now to go back?”

“A little bird, huh?” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Javier has been doing some digging of his own.

The thought of him taking such an interest in you makes your heart swell, and the smile that spreads across your face is wide and genuine.

It’s infectious, mirrored by the grin on his own handsome face.

You had only come to Bogotá to cover the Cali cartel, and with that chapter now closed thanks to him, the idea of following him back to the States seems more appealing by the second.

Navigating this intense, thrilling relationship in a new setting feels right, like the next step in whatever you two are building together.

“So, will you?” His voice is soft, feeling vulnerable for proposing such an idea this early on. “Will you come back with me, gatita?”

You gaze up at him, your heart brimming with love and desire, your decision already made. “Sí, Javi,” you whisper, your lips brushing tenderly against his. “I’ll go with you.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena fic #javier peña narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic

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1800titz · 7 months ago

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HI BESTIES. This is the first part of Shibari man/Shibari Asshole/Rigger!Harry x Rope bunny!Reader ((the one I teased here))

The one where Harry runs shibari classes and you think he should smile more

WC: 2.4K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series; the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

When you were a little kid, your brother had an ant farm.

An acrylic formicarium that’d started out as two boxes with a set of tubes. Over time, it morphed into a staggering, caged cityscape of twisting, pellucid hoses and burrows that spanned the entire length of the desk in his bedroom.

You'd watch them scatter the tunnels as a little girl, lugging cracker crumbs and bits of fruit off your sticky fingers, weaving along the chutes connecting the boroughs of their curated city.

Your brother did what any nasty, older brother would do— those harvester ants were the torment of your childhood. You'd bicker, and he’d threaten to spill them into your bed when you were sleeping. Told you that the colony would eat her toes, that you'd wake up to wiggle nothing but grisly, little, ichor-soaked stumps.

The gory intimidation tactic never really did much.

You'd still press your nose to the screen barring the insects and smudge your fingerprints over, fascinated as they congregated to the wet cotton ball in the depths of their home.

You think it's a little like that now, wandering the swarming alcoves in the underbelly of New York. You're a little harvester ant (all exoskeleton to sheathe the pulpy anguish of a long day— ball it inside, keeping your face even and your mouth in a line), plodding through a network of crystalline, vinyl tubing. Swimming against the swathing current of the colony seeping past you in their beanies and their coats, deadpanned on their dog-eat-dog pursuit of errands.

During the evening rush hour, it’s teeming under the city that never sleeps. It’s a stunning exhibit, maybe, for a tourist whose hometown flickers every porch light off by nine and has one tributary of a road that seeps away from the community, but it doesn’t help the headache thrumming behind your temples. Instead, it kindles the narked throb in your limbs until it feels like an itch in your bloodstream.

The day’s chewed you up with its sharp, ivory incisors and spit you out. Left something tired and empty. The dregs are grounds of a mucky ire, ready to be shed under the scalding spew of a showerhead.

You mingle through the horde, slinking the gaps you can manage to squeeze past. Your nose burns. Anti-seize lubricant. Cherry cleaners and old concrete. Musk and brake dust. Ground up, heated steel from the wheels burning — metal on metal. Grease. It smells like asphalt and strife.

The car is packed. A lumbering throng that weaves and scatters, either casting indignant looks over their shoulders when they’re nudged as you politely shoulder your way through, or soul-sucked into their phones altogether, scrolling in detachment.

There’s one tawny seat, empty and tucked against the back wall. You inch for it on aching ankles, burning knees; the bits of a long day left sewn into your joints. It gnaws into your marrow, and nothing sounds better than hot water on naked skin. You twist—

Marimba blares from you bag. Someone casts an irrationally exasperated side-eye over their shoulder. You straighten out, and rummage through the contents. Find a battered lanyard. A spare stick of deodorant. A hair tie coated in lint and a sparse handful of change—

Drink water. You thumb the alarm off.

When you sit back, it’s rigid. Firm and uneven. Warm, like a breathing furnace. It takes you all of a split second to recognize that you've managed to perch on a splayed thigh, clad in denim that’s shredded at the knees, rather than the grooved, ochre plastic of a hovering seat.

You had thought there was little emotion you could have summoned beyond something drained and miffed. The day surprises you, yet, in its dying breaths. Like a mortified buoy, embarrassment bobs from the cesspool when you startle up and twist.

There’s a man in your seat.

He looks oddly comfortable, almost as if he’d been there all along. As if you had just conjured a mirage of an empty seat. The only acknowledgement he gives you, blinking up from the phone cradled in his enormous, right hand, is a stoically disgruntled glance from behind the squared, pitch-framed lenses resting on the bridge of his nose.

“Um. Excuse me—” you blink. Your brows crease, “I was sitting there.”

He spares you a glance. There’s gems in his sockets. Emeralds. Dewy and dulled from the same, shitty day of skyscraper-morphed incisors gnawing. He looks away, and they coruscate in the near blinding glare of his LED, cast in a faint echo over his glasses.

“No, you weren’t.”

You blink again. He doesn’t even spare you a glance as he denies it. You're forced to stare at the part in his hair; the way a burnt umber curl sweeps over his temple. He scrolls over his screen, instead, with a neatly saffron-lacquered thumb.

You swallow a flattering epithet that (his obvious disinterest) nearly wrests from your mouth. A flimsy facsimile of a smile sculpts over. Appalled. Nearly seeping into the beginnings of borderline deranged as your threadbare composure gets toyed at by a prick with a clandestine pair of scissors. Almost, almost, almost.

“Well. I was going to.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmurs, brows kinked, “because this seat is taken.”

A little noise clambers from the back of your throat. You swallow it down and scoff. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

It’s dry, derisive, disinterested. The three D’s that are going to get his glasses plucked off and tossed to the floor to be crushed under someone’s heel.

“Unbelievable.”

His eyes— mossy, reminiscent of the woods— sweep up. He’s quiet. Stony. For the first time, you really get a good look, and decide, instantly, that if he weren’t such an apparent dickhead, maybe his specs and his voguish jumper would make him look sophisticated. Handsome, with his even slope of a nose, full, pink lips, and the dusting of stubble along his cheeks and jawline.

There’s a sharp contrast to him, like inverted colors. Patchwork of sutures that don’t fit. It’s off, his cozy sweater and his soft hair. He looks like a warm, barbed hug.

Prickly— saguaro, in a Marc Jacobs pullover, with stinging spines sticking through the stitching.

“What’s the matter with you?” It’s softer that you'd intended.

You quiver— everything, all over. Your bottom lip wobbles, your mandible sets, your fingers wring at the strap of your tote. They twitch and stretch at your side with this provoked, goopy slurry of cortisol and adrenaline. It permeates your pericardium. Snakes the tubing with an incensed warmth— embers kindled.

“Do you realize how rude that is?”

Asphalt and strife. Someone to your side glances over their shoulder and then turns back. The stranger blinks up at you from his phone with soft features chiseled apathetic. Vetiver and musk.

“M’not sure what you mean.”

“Are you joking? You stole my seat, dude,” you wave out with your hand.

He blinks again.

“I don’t think it ever belonged to you, to be fair—“ then, “Is your name on it?”

It’s a childish retort to spall your argument into flinders. Your eyes narrow into anticipatory slits.

“No—“

“Then I suppose it’s not your seat, is it?” he responds sharply— chiaroscuro to the lax, impassive shape that molds his face, “S’first come, first serve …dude.”

A stranger grazes your shoulder blade in passing— something you've become accustomed to. People finding walkways in strait gaps on a train that’s packed like a can of sardines.

“Oh my God. You are such an asshole— I could be pregnant.”

He raises his eyebrows. His eyes trail. A slow once-over, wry and disbelieving. Sage and owlish. A stray curl stemming from the forefront of his crown meddles to coil over his forehead. The corner of his otherwise indurated mouth twitches.

“Are you pregnant?”

No.

“Yes,” you glower.

It slinks from the back of your throat, unbidden— this lie. Rides up the back up of your tongue and slips through the cracks of your teeth. It’s curdled and twisted, miasmic pulp in tar— who the fuck lies about being pregnant for a subway seat?

You're never going to see him again.

You're never, ever going to see him again.

You cup your hand over the underside of your tummy. Sell it, now that you have to. All soft flesh under the button of your jeggings, shrouded under the boxy shaping of your fleece turtleneck— where a baby (that definitely doesn’t exist, last you checked), the size of a citrus limon, would curl up. You tuck your palm over the phantom at your underbelly.

You've had a shitty day, and now you've been backed into a corner, offering the universe shitty manifestations with your hands cupped out.

The seat stealer ogles. Meanders from your strategic hand placement to your ireful scowl. Back. His mouth purses.

“So, it’s not that you could be,” he clarifies, slowly, “It’s that you are.”

Languid. Unrushed, like an overflowing, murky lake lapping at a berm. Someone brushes the back of your arm.

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

You scoff. He’s fully transfixed on you now, the glow from his smartphone dimmed on its pending shut-off timer.

“Are you kidding? Who—“ you hike your tote up, “lies about being pregnant for a subway seat?”

He purses his lips again, ruddy pillows bordering the sharp chasm of his mouth where the tools to dissect her claims are stowed. Bobs his head.

“How far along are you, then?”

You grit out, teeth bared, “Thirteen weeks—“

And a stranger prods past with enough force to nudge you forward. Enough for your shin to brush against the bespectacled stranger's own. Enough to step into his space, nearly between his parted thighs. He frowns.

He does another slow sweep with his gaze. Furrowed brows, glimmering viridian dancing from behind limped lenses. Gleaning pieces like cattail and twine for a nest. Deciding; are they worthy? A grip over your underbelly, the little frown on your lips that mirrors his own, the way you suddenly crowd his atoms. He’s unconvinced, almost. Apathetic.

You fully expect him to tell you to fuck off, but then he nudges with his stubbly chin. You shuffle back as much as you can with about three, broad strangers at all sides.

He bleeds out into you, for a moment, all heat, when he clambers up and steps in to make your cycle — this game of musical chairs to the tune of white noise, flitting on a screeching rail through a tunnel— smoother. He’s broad. Tapered. Thick in the shoulders, a carnegiea of a man towering when he nearly presses his firm chest to you, wrapped in french terry. He’s much softer to the touch than the spikes bristling from his mien implicate. Woodsy and clean, like smoke, and cedarwood, and soap. It flushes the miasmic undertone of grease the subway always has.

He cocks his head. Sit down.

“Congratulations,” he tells you when you slot into the nook, splaying your tote over your lap.

He’s kept your seat warm.

Whether the statement is in reference to your unborn pseudo-baby or your victory, you're unsure.

KNOTS resembles a yoga studio, with its clean, tall walls, its french oak flooring, and its bone-white bulbs, linearly tiled into the ceiling. It smells like an amalgam of grapefruit cleaning products and spritzes of an air freshener that vaguely echoes the lapping sea.

Salt, an airy ozone, muguet. Something pretentious that doesn’t fit into the city.

If it weren’t for the myriad of ropes, lubricants, and toy cleaners stacking the shelving units by the front, you would have felt as if you were here to attend a pilates class. Cycling, maybe. Something sweaty and less …abrasive.

You're late for your seven-to-nine open level, beginner’s course— two soporific hours of staring at rope and tying knots that you'll never get back.

(Slaphappy and fecklessly inept at knot-tying are two traits that don’t work well to take up shibari as a hobby.

“Please— she’s been begging for months and none of those online tutorials make any fucking sense.”

“So— why don’t you take her with you?”

“Because I want it to be a surprise,” Niall had opposed. Puffed his chest, “I wanna surprise her. Like a proper ropes guy, you know. And she’s so flexible, too, I could tie her in loads of positions—“

You'd raised your hand. “Spare me.”

Niall’s always been a glass half-full. Crystalline, effervescent. A bright color.

You couldn’t bear to ruffle his plume when, two autumns ago, he spent a Wednesday afternoon standing outside a women’s handicapped stall in an auto shop for pure, courageous moral support as you took an actual pregnancy test— not even by his doing, and he still was a very good sport. Even if he’s absolute shit at knots beyond tying his own shoes.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he struggled with twine and a palomar, it wasn’t going to matter how bendy his girlfriend was.)

You're fourteen minutes late. Eight-hundred-forty seconds and change for every two steps, by the time you find the right door in the balmy corridor of boundless doorways. The portly, alder ingress squeals on its hinges when you shuffle, as quietly as you can manage, into what vaguely resembles a dance studio.

The attendees look the part, too, perched over their yoga mats in contemporary dancer garb, turning their chins over their shoulders at the disturbance. Dress casual and comfortable. There’s only about eight of them, and they coil in a piqued coterie ahead of the instructor, who has about six varying ropes, diverse in their tint and structure, and then he peers up—

It’s him. Saguaro, with the frames and the eyes like beds of flinty malachite.

He’s holding a furled, plaited cord, the head of the class, and he pauses, blinking up. Briefly. He clears his throat—

”—Jute, on the other hand, has great knot stability. You can see here, the braided texture— that makes it less slippery.”

Compunction crinkles the valley of skin between your eyebrows as you trudge in alongside Niall— he’s much more amicable about it, mouthing apologies and raising his hand in friendly hello’s that don’t receive much beyond awkwardly indifferent glances. You sink to your knees toward the back, which isn’t all that far from the front, all things considered. It’s a small class. The wood burrows into your tailbone— were the yoga mats a complementary piece? Were you supposed to bring a yoga mat?

“It’s great for floor bondage, but it’s water sensitive. So if you want to work it into suspension, don’t wash it too often. Otherwise, you’re losing carrying capacity.”

The city of New York is a metaphorical hayrick. It’s a paradox, since the big apple is the furthest thing from watery mud, fir-constructed barns, and scythes sweeping through crops.

Theoretically, though, you should have never seen this man again.

He should have become swept into the mound of straw— got lost in it. Mortification strums at your muscles, tensing every sinew. It scars deep— scrapes at your cartilage. If you'd known this needle would prick your thumb again, maybe you wouldn’t have waged war for the seat on the subway.

And yet, here he is.

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #dom harry styles #dom!harry x sub!reader #dom harry #enemies to lovers #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #shibari!harry #rigger!harry #harry styles fanfiction

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lynk-zee · 8 months ago

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Idk if you take request or not, I saw through your pfp and didn't saw anything so I'm going to give it a shot at least and if it's not possible it's okay I still love your content anyways :3 a sfw of course of what kind of fans would be the LaD boys if instead of being a hunter (or we just simply decided to switch careers and it goes well for us because the plot said so) we were a popular idol, (I feel like zayne would be a closet fan 100% with the argument that nobody asked) and how they would be in the handshake events

Idol!MC

Authors Note: Hi! Love the request! I was planning on waiting until I have 100 followers before I drafted up a request/asks page but as my first request, there’s no time like the present! So ask page to be determined. Thanks for the request!

Let’s say that your heart condition prohibited you from ever entering the Hunters field, but was stable enough for you to dance and sing…

Zayne would have been a long time fan, even before you were famous. When you were children, he would always hear you sing with the prettiest voice and see you dance like you were floating on air… When you did end up becoming an idol, Josephine made sure he was one of the first people to know, sending him a pamphlet of your first performance. So you can say he’s an OG stan. His desk at home would be littered with merch from keychains to pins even to a framed autograph with your kiss stain (he flushes all the time when he sees it and he will take that secret to his GRAVE). He has one of your keychains on his lanyard, but it’s small enough that no one would recognize it unless they squint hard enough. When it comes to your meet and greet, you’re surprised to see your childhood friend standing there, wearing your tee-shirt, all blank-faced and stoic, waiting for a handshake.

MC: Zayne? I didn’t know you were a fan…

Zayne: …You never asked.

In his head, you and Rafayel are already dating. Sure, you haven’t formally met yet, but it would make sense, no? He, who expresses himself through his paint. You, who touches the hearts of fans through your voice. An inspired duo indeed. You would make beautiful art together. Rafayel would download all your albums, playing your music when he hits an art block, harnessing the feelings he gets when he watches your performances on his phone to make art about a soft flame kindling warmth amongst the cold. Meeting you was nerve-wracking. For all the pomp and circumstance he puts out, he’s shy to meet person of his dreams. But today was the day— no going back now! He bought backstage passes to meet you one on one, no distractions whatsoever. When you came in after the show, his cheeks flushed with fire and his ears turned red at how beautiful you were in person. After wiping the sweat off your face from such an intense performance, you gave him the prettiest smile he’d ever seen.

MC: It’s nice to meet you, Rafayel! I’m a huge fan of your art!

Rafayel: O-Oh, really? *ahem* I’m glad your as big a fan of my art as I am yours. I could give you a personal tour at the gallery if you’d like…?

Xavier didn’t exactly understand what it meant to be obsessed with an idol. Yes, he loves your music and thinks you’re very pretty, and sure, he’s indulged in buying some merch a few times, but spending three hours at a claw machine to get your limited addition plushie was normal right? Xavier is a pretty lowkey fan to be fair. He wears your tee-shirts to bed and works out to your music, but all of that stays within the house anyways. Him meeting you was by chance or fate, who knows. He couldn’t sleep at night, a rare occurrence, when he decided to take a walk to clear his head. All of a sudden, his hunters watch goes off and a shrill scream fills the air, calling him to action. As he swiftly takes care of the Wanderer, he turns to make sure the pedestrian was safe when he realizes it’s you. His very favorite idol. Xavier’s face goes blank as he processes the whole situation and you scramble to your feet to thank him.

MC: Thank you so much, Mr. Hunter! You’re my hero…

When you lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a lipstick stain on his skin, he almost fainted.

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alisonsfics · 1 year ago

Text

roommate’s best friend part two

pairing: calum hood x ashton’sroommate!reader

summary: after your make out session with calum was interrupted by ashton, you were both very excited to spend more time together at a 5sos gig. (part one)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: unprotected sex, public-ish sex (it’s backstage), tiny praise kink, minors DNI

You were planning to see Calum tonight for the first time after your little make out that was interrupted by Ashton.

You both had planned to have a little date night at Calum’s apartment, where you couldn’t be interrupted by Ashton. Before you could leave, you and Ashton had a plumbing emergency that kept you both at your apartment.

When you called to tell Calum that you couldn’t make it, he practically begged you to let him sneak over just to be with you for a little bit. You knew it would just end with Ashton accidentally seeing something he shouldn’t, and you couldn’t handle that embarrassment again.

Calum and Ashton had both invited you to a gig that the band was having tonight, so you would finally get to see Calum.

You were in the middle of picking out your outfit, obviously wanting to look nice to impress Calum.

“Oh, is somebody getting ready to see her boyfriend tonight?” Ashton teased you from your open doorway. You turned to face him and saw the smirk on his face. “C’mon, Ash, we can’t just be adults?” You pleaded. He chuckled and shook his head. “I caught you hooking up with my best friend. It’s a perfect opportunity for teasing, I can’t waste it.” He told you.

Ashton stepped towards you and held out a lanyard. “Wear this and security will let you in tonight. I’m about to head out, I’ll see you later.” He told you. You took the lanyard from him and said goodbye to him.

A few hours later, you were on your way to the concert, and you had butterflies in your stomach as you thought about seeing Calum.

You had picked out some leather pants and a red lace top that you were hoping Calum would like.

You got to the venue and security let you in quickly after seeing your badge. A security guard led you back to where the guys were hanging out. “They were in the lounge last time I checked, but if they’re not there, I’ll bring you to their dressing rooms.” The security guard told you.

You approached the room and saw a few couches sprawled around the room and a minibar against the wall.

You saw someone sitting on the couch on their phone. You recognized him as Luke from Ashton’s Instagram posts. “Here you go,” the security guard said, gesturing towards the room and then leaving.

“Hi, I’m Luke,” he said, jumping up to greet you. You quickly shook his hand and introduced yourself to him.

“Ashton just ran to the bathroom, he’ll be back soon.” Luke informed you. You nodded your head. “I’m really excited to see the show tonight. I got to go to one of your shows before, and I had a great time.” You told him.

“Oh thank you, yeah tonight should be good.” He agreed. You both heard footsteps and turned to see Calum walk into the room.

His eyes scanned over your outfit slowly, taking it all in. “Hi, there,” he said, softly. You gave him a smile as he walked over to you. “C’mon, Cal, give her a hug.” Luke said, teasing Calum for how stunned and speechless he was.

You giggled at Calum’s flustered expression. “Wait, but how do you—” Calum started to ask Luke.

“You really think Ashton was able to keep you guys and your thing a secret?” Luke said, chuckling.

Luke made sure not to stare so he wouldn’t make you both uncomfortable. “Hi,” you said, softly. He stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You look beautiful.” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. The scent of his cologne filled your lungs. You both pulled away, not knowing what to say to each other with Luke in the room.

“So, you two met already?” Calum asked, gesturing towards you and Luke. You both nodded. Then, Ashton and Michael walked in the room.

“Hey,” Ashton said, smiling once he saw you. He walked over and gave you a hug. He turned around to gesture towards Michael and introduced the two of you.

You noticed Ashton walking over to Calum, probably to tease him in some way, so you started talking to Luke and Michael. You were telling them about the first show of theirs you had gone to.

You were trying your best to make a good first impression, considering you’d probably be spending a lot more time with them.

You felt Calum’s hand slip around your waist, and he brought his lips to your ear. “Can I get you a drink?” He whispered in your ear, keeping his tight grip on your hip. You nodded your head, “yes please,” you said.

He walked away to get you a drink. Ashton joined your group and was smirking at you. “Don’t you even,” you said, stopping him before he could make a comment.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Ashton lied through his teeth. Luke and Michael chuckled at his horrible poker face. “I’m trying to make a nice first impression with your friends, and you just can’t stop yourself.” You said.

“You made a pretty good first impression with Calum,” Michael muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh. You were too stunned to speak. You sat there with your mouth open as the three of them started cracking up. “All three of you now?” You asked.

Calum appeared at your side with two drinks, handing one to you. “Yeah, she did make a pretty good impression, y’know until Ashton ruined it.” Calum said, winking at you.

You slipped your arm around Calum’s back and leaned into him. “You both are pretty cute together actually” Ashton said, making your cheeks heat up.

“Hey guys, you got like five minutes til you need to be on stage.” Someone said, as they walked in the room. You looked over your shoulder and saw someone who looked like their manager.

“C’mon,” Calum said, interlacing your fingers and pulling you behind him. You followed him to the side of the stage. You both set down your drinks and one of the crew members handed Calum his bass.

You gave Calum a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good show,” you told him. He thanked you and gave your hand a quick squeeze. The other three guys started to walk on stage, but Calum stopped.

He held up two fingers and beckoned you closer to him. He quickly cupped your face and kissed you. You were surprised by the kiss, but kissed him back.

“Gotta get my good luck kiss,” he said, before running out on stage.

You got to watch the whole show from the side of stage and had the best time. Calum even looked over at you a few times and winked at you once.

As the show ended, you cheered for the guys, and they took their bow. The guys filed off the stage past you, giving you high-fives as they went by.

Calum came off the stage last with a giant smile on his face. He handed off his bass and then grabbed your hand. He started pulling you down the hallway.

“Calum, where are we going?” You asked him. He didn’t answer your question, but continued pulling you behind him. You both got to his dressing room door and he pushed the door open.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you both inside and closed the door. He pinned you to the back of the door. “You remember when we talked about you fucking that bassist in his dressing room?” He asked you, his mouth almost pressed up to your ear.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, I remember,” you said, breathlessly. Calum’s entire chest was pressed up against you, and you were finding it hard to focus.

“Well that bassist really likes your outfit and got really turned on seeing you on the side of the stage, so if you were still okay with that plan,” he said, practically growling.

“Yes, yes, just touch me, Cal,” you begged him. As soon as the words left your mouth, Calum’s lips were on yours. His lips moved quickly against yours.

He grabbed at the back of your thighs and picked you up against the door. “No one to interrupt us this time,” he said, smirking against your lips.

You raked your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. He planted his lips on the side of your neck and started slowly sucking on your skin.

You tried to silence the moan that fell from your lips. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you.” He coached you.

He pulled you away from the door and laid you down on the couch. “You look so gorgeous,” he said, in awe as he looked at you.

You pulled him towards you and tugged at the bottom of his shirt. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the side. “C’mere, rockstar, can’t wait,” you said, pulling Calum on top of you. Hearing you call him “rockstar” turned Calum on more than he would ever admit.

His hands slipped under your shirt and traced your sides, caressing your skin. “Help me take it off,” you said, putting your hands up and allowing Calum to pull your shirt up over your head.

“So gorgeous,” he mumbled as he quickly got rid of both of your pants. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist. You cupped his face and kissed him hard.

Having Calum’s hands on you made you feel like your skin was on fire in the best way. A moan slipped out of you as Calum rocked his hips against yours. “Please, Cal,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asked, placing kisses along your jaw. You groaned, twisting his hair around your fingers.

“Please, fuck me,” you told him.

He pulled down your panties and carelessly threw them to the side. “You know that when Ashton showed us a picture of his roommate, I think I fell in love with you right then, most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” He told you, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You look so hot on top of me, like this.” You said, as he slipped out of his boxers.

He grabbed your hips with his large hands to steady himself. “You ready?” He asked, meeting your gaze. You nodded your head quickly.

He slowly pushed his length into you. You clawed at his back as you adjusted to his size. He stayed still, buried inside you, for a while. He peppered soft kisses on your shoulder as he waited for you.

“Keep going, I’m okay,” you assured him. With one final kiss on your lips, he pulled himself out and started thrusting into you.

Calum’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as his hips hit against yours. You let your eyes roll back as you grabbed at the couch, desperate to find something to hold on to.

“Here,” Calum said, grabbing both your hands and pinning them above your head. You let out a whimper as you felt the strong grip of his hand on your wrists.

“Let me do all the work, just focus on feeling good,” he instructed you. He placed sloppy, wet kisses down your chest, using his free hand to caress your breast.

“So good, Cal. Just like I imagined,” you mumbled, your eyes still shut. You noticed a break in Calum’s rhythm. You opened your eyes and noticed he was just looking at you as he continued to push his hips into yours.

“You were imagining this, baby?” He asked you, curiously. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, both from the pet name he’d just used and what you had just admitted.

“Don’t be embarrassed, what were you thinking about?” He asked, turned on by the possibility of your fantasies. You hid your face in the crook of his neck. He peppered kisses all around your face, hoping to get you to open up.

It was ironic. His cock was deep inside you, but you could barely bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I saw pictures you posted from tour, and I thought about what it’d be like to go on tour with you. We’d travel around together, and I’d know all the fans you met were imagining you the way that only I would get to see you. And I thought about what it’d be like to ride you.” You confessed.

A groan fell from Calum’s lips after hearing the words leave your mouth. “That’s really hot, gorgeous.” He told you, moving his grip to your hips.

He reached deeper inside of you and hit your g-spot. “Oh, fuck, Calum,” you moaned.

“Y’know, we could make those fantasies happen if you want. We could at least do that last one tonight.” He told you, making your cheeks heat up even more.

“C’mere, honey,” he said, holding onto you and sitting up so you were straddling him.

He kissed you to make you more comfortable. “I’ll help you,” he mumbled against your lips. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up. You started rolling your hips against his.

“Oh, fuck, baby. You look so good on top of me.” He moaned, throwing his head back. He pushed his hips forward, meeting yours halfway.

Your thrusts started to become more rushed as you got closer to your high. “I’m almost there, Cal,” you mumbled, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Me too, baby,” he told you. You both quickened your pace. You arched your back as you started to feel it approaching. You both were breathing heavily.

You were mesmerized watching how quickly Calum’s chest was rising and falling.

“Oh, fuck, Calum,” you called out, as your orgasm hit you. He wasn’t far behind you. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled, his thrusts beginning to falter.

He slowed down his pace, slowly thrusting up into you to help you both come down from your highs.

You collapsed against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “That was amazing,” you mumbled against his skin. He chuckled at your exhaustion. “You did amazing, baby,” he said, kissing the side of your neck.

He ran his fingers up and down your back as you caught your breath.

Once you finally got up, you both got dressed again and headed to Ashton’s dressing room, where Calum was told the guys were hanging out.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Michael said, smirking at Calum as you both entered the room. All three guys were in the room, along with their significant others. Luke handed both you and Calum a drink.

“You both finally sort out that sexual tension?” Ashton asked, causing you to choke on your drink. Your eyes darted to Calum for help.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I may have left you a little present on accident,” referencing the hickey on your neck.

“Calum,” you whined, dragging out his name and trying to cover your neck with your hand. This earned a chuckle from the group.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m going to have so much fun teasing the two of you,” Ashton said, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t worry, we won’t all be teasing you. Not yet, at least” Luke promised you both. You let out a small giggle. “That felt a lot less comforting than I think it was intended to be.” You replied, earning a laugh from Calum.

He slipped his hand in the back pocket of your pants, keeping you next to him.

“So, Ashton mentioned that you guys were planning to set us up anyway. How was that going to go down?” You asked, curiously.

“Well the girls had to talk down Ashton because he was ready to steal Calum’s phone and send you some raunchy messages, and Calum would have killed him. Michael and I suggested a blind date, but Ashton wasn’t going to settle for that. He suggested that we lock you both in a room together and just wait it out.” Luke explained to you.

“Your great matchmaking plan was to hold us hostage?” Calum asked Ashton, exasperated.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me it wouldn’t work, neither of you can keep your hands off each other.” Ashton argued.

“That’s true.” Calum said, smiling down at you.

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#calum hood #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine

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