#bc it was like my only passion growing up :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles.

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]: I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago.

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you.

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time.

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens.

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub.

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good.

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

“No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart.

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry.

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try.

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake.

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño.

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan.

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left.

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs.

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen.

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand.

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.”

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting.

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor.

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion?

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw.

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out.

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy.

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty.

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?”

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands.

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart.

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding.

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back.

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan.

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious.

“Tell me to stop.”

Fuck.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself.

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open.

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt.

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-”

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you.

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs.

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders.

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound.

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move.

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him.

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago.

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say.

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes.

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips.

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned.

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts.

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders.

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second. After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

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tender-rosiey · 6 months ago

Note

to be honest, idk how you did it but you truly got me stoked over heian era husband! sukuna. i hate the man with most passion (bcs of what he did in the manga), but i couldn't help but giggling, crying, kicking my feet with butterflies in my stomach every time i read your husband!sukuna stories. your writings are *chef's kiss*, i read all of those more than twice already.

idk if you're currently open for request or not, but i want to ask, are you comfortable writing angst/hurt no comfort stuffs? bcs my mind keeps imagining what and how the husbands (gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami) react to their wife (y/n) got klled right in front of their eyes? perhaps bcs of their enemies or something, the enemies know you are their weakness (imagining sukuna, the king of curses, who's feared by most, or satoru who's known as the strongest — turns out have a weakness that he himself perhaps is not aware of is so mindblowing(?)) anyway, you don't have to write it if you're unable to, no worries and no pressure!!

"YOU— WHO I HAVE LOVED TILL LOVE BURNED"

— when you die in front of gojo, geto, nanami, and sukuna

a/n: hehe i am so glad that you like my heinaera!sukuna MWUAH 💕 we gotta ignore what he is doing in the manga 🧍‍♀️ also sorry in advance y’all, but I lowkey had a blast writing this; hope you like this anon <333

GOJO SATORU:

satoru stood outside the operations room, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

he clutches his hands tightly, and his eyes are trained on the door, fixated on your cursed energy that he can feel through the door.

you were going into labor, after long 9 months of waiting.

the two of you were going to finally meet your baby girl. the same girl that the two of you would talk to at night, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

he knew that the pregnancy was hard on you, and that’s part of the reason why he is relieved that this day has come.

the moments are long agonizing, and what kills him on the inside are your screams of pain as you try to push out your daughter.

he wanted, so desperately, to be with you in the room, but the doctor decided against it; they thought that it would be better to free the room as they worried that there might be a risk in the labor.

that worried him, but he had no choice but to abide by what they said. finally, the sun smiles upon him, and he hears the cry of his daughter.

he stands up, grin overtaking his face, and eagerly awaiting being let in.

he waits.

and he waits, but nothing happens, and he stops the first nurse that goes out the room, “what is happening? is my wife okay?”

the nurse splutters and nods, before dashing to another room. he doesn’t believe her for one second, and so, he tries looking into the room through the windows on the door.

he can’t see anything, but he can still feel your cursed energy. that’s the only thing that calms him down.

but, he can’t find it in him to sit back on the chair. he leans on the wall beside the door, and his nails dig into his knuckles, almost making them bleed.

he doesn’t snap out of it, until the doctor walks out, lowering his mask, “mister gojo—”

he walks past the doctor and heads inside.

“y/n!” he calls out, but he is met with the sight of the nurses covering your figure with a white cloth. his eyes widen, and he grips the wrist of one of them, “what are you doing? she is not dead.”

the nurse’s brows furrow, and her expression turns into of one of pity. he snaps his head towards you then at her, “she is not dead. I can feel it.”

he can still feel your cursed energy, so they must be wrong.

he looks down at you and cups your face gently. he moves your face to his direction, and he whispers, “pretty girl, you did so well, but you gotta wake up now.”

your face is limp in his hand, and his eyes grow frantic, “y/n?” he urges, “please say anything, yell or scold me even.”

he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he chuckles nervously, “love, I can feel your cursed energy. the prank you’re playing is a bit too much, no?”

“mister gojo,” one of the nurses calls out, “I think it’s from her.”

he looks up, and he sees your daughter in the nurse’s arms. she is wailing loudly, and—the nurse is right—she is emitting your cursed energy or remnants of it, he realizes now.

“mister gojo, you need to have skin-to-skin contact with your daughter,” she speaks softly, gently handing the little girl to him.

he takes her, wordlessly, and he mindlessly opens his chest to hug his daughter to it.

the nurses exit the room, and satoru is left to stare at you.

he sits on the bed, one arm holding your daughter and the other hand holding your face. he speaks up lowly with a small and quivering smile, “wifey, come on, wake up. our daughter is here.”

said girl lets out a small huff, and satoru finds himself biting his lip as he lays his forehead on your own.

“come on, y/n,” he begs, “she even looks exactly like you,” he pulls you closer, “you cant do this to me—please, not you too.”

GETO SUGURU:

the businessman sighs, “I won’t pay more than what I offered. geto. my words are final.”

“and who are you to be making orders? geto asks, resting his elbows on the desk, “I could kill you with the flick of a finger, so either you give me the two million yen—I know you can provide—monthly, or you can say goodbye to this life and empire you built.”

the man taps his palm and sighs, “I assume that we won’t be reaching the outcome I want?”

geto tilts his head with a smile, “come on, you still have the power of choice.”

the man stares at geto for a second before speaking up, “your wife is a lovely woman,” he grins, “too bad she has to depart so early.”

at the moment, for the first time since that incident, geto feels his heart drop to his stomach.

he jolts up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall, “what nonsense are you spouting?”

geto’s grip on the man’s throat quickly tightens.

the man is barely able to choke out his reply, “y—your dear sweetheart has been poisoned, since she went to your ‘usual’ café spot, and my men were there,” he grins manically, “better go and try to get your goodbyes, while you’re at it.”

your husband throws him on the floor and releases his most brutal curses to eat him. the man’s screams are ignored, as geto hurriedly runs to the café.

his heart beats violently against his chest. how did his curses not notice anything? how could he let you be in danger?

he slams the door open and yells out, “y/n?! y/n, do you hear me?!”

the café is empty, and the only person present there is you. the others having long fled.

you look so pained, letting out labored breaths and furrowing your eyebrows in discomfort. he kneels beside you and gathers you in his arms. he rises to his feet, but halts when you let out a pained shriek.

“I am sorry, honey, I know, just hold on,” he comforts. you shake your head and bury your face into his chest. he tightens his embrace on you and quickly starts running out.

“suguru, it hurts—moving hurts,” you cry, and it makes him kiss the top of your head firmly while nodding, trying to comfort both himself and you.

he thanks the heavens that he arrives at the estate, and he gently places you on the bed. he looks back at manami, “call all the healers and doctors, now!”

he looks down at you, and he grips your hand with it and presses it to his lips. he murmurs softly, “you will be okay; don’t worry,” he clutches your shirt.

he repeatedly apologizes and brings you fully into his arms. he watches your breathing slow down, and he feels your skin get colder. your expression starts to relax little by little.

it sends geto into a frenzy. he snaps, “where are the doctors?! why is no here yet?!”

manami runs inside and pants, “a-all the doctors have been k-killed.”

geto stops feeling the tips of his fingers, and he looks down at you. he starts breathing frantically, “then get anyone! anyone who knows about poison!” he cups your face and shakes you lightly, “y/n, please open your eyes.”

“suguru,” you say weakly, and he instantly lowers his head, so he can hear you better. you whisper softly, “I love you.”

he nods repeatedly, “and I love you too, so you have to stay awake, so we can say it again, yeah? come on, y/n.”

he moves your hair away from your face, his hands shaky as he falters, “can you say it again? one more time.”

your body stills in his arms, and he shudders, “just o-one more, y/n…” he closes his eyes, burying his face in your chest. your arms are limp, and he is left hugging your body.

everybody stays silent, and they watch geto not leave or loosen his hold on you.

he looks up slowly at manami and speaks lowly, “round up everyone that had an affiliation to that scum; those filthy monkeys will pay for what they have done.”

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami heaves a sigh of relief when he spots yuuji, “are you okay?”

the young boy nods frantically, and nanami looks around him then at yuuji again, “is y/n not with you? have you seen her? anywhere?”

yuuji shakes his head, regretfully, but nanami takes a deep breath, “it’s fine; let’s search for her together, okay?” he assures.

yuuji smiles and nods, determined, “yes!”

nanami barely manages a reassured nod of his own, his mind focused on finding you. in fact, he starts running, eyes quickly scanning each street and corner for any sight of you.

he clenches his jaw, remembering what you said before taking this mission.

“kento, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

he dismissed your worries and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. he hummed softly, “I know, but we have to do it. if things go bad, then we have gojo present anyway.”

gojo is not present. shibuya is slowly turning into a city full of blood and corpses, both non-sorcerers’ and sorcerers’. he regrets not listening to you, but what else could’ve been done?

all he can do right now is find you and make sure you’re okay. that is his first and most important priority.

“nanamin, I found her!” yuuji screams excitedly, pointing at you who was busy thwarting off the myriad of curses charging at you. at the sight of you, nanami’s body relaxes, and he lets out a small smile.

you punch a curse back to a building, so you can finally turn to your husband.

“kento!” you grin and start running towards him. you throw yourself into his arms, and he—as always—catches you. he pulls you close and takes in your presence, burying his face into your hair.

he lets out a small breath.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he says, but then he feels a strange wetness on his hand. he pulls away slowly and looks down at it. his eyes widen in alarm.

it’s covered in blood.

he looks up at you and mutters, “y/n, are you hurt? where are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know,” you look up at him, “I can’t feel anything, k—kento; I don’t want to die,” you plead, and he quickly tears off a part of his suit to cover your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

yuuji quickly goes to try and find shoko.

he hugs you closer, applying pressure to the wound, while pressing gentle kisses to your hair, “you…you won’t; don’t worry.”

you grip his shirt weakly and look up at your husband. you manage a small smile, “have I told you how handsome you are?”

he chuckles weakly, trying to stabilize his voice, “mhm, but I would like to hear you say it again tomorrow; can you do that?”

you nod slowly, “yeah…”

he stays silent for a second and grips you a bit tighter, “do you promise?”

your breathing starts slowing, “promise,” your body relaxes against his, and you feel his hand go to hold your own. he massages your ring finger and raises your hand to his lips.

you close your eyes with a smile, “I love you, ken.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. you stay still, and nanami embraces you with the entirety of his body, burying your face into his chest.

he clenches his jaw and whispers, “so much more.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

the king of curses dodges another attack with a full-blown smirk on his face. he swiftly turns and slashes the person till they drop into pieces. his chest heaves with excitement.

that is until he catches the smell of your blood.

he turns behind him, and he is greeted by a sight that he would usually take the time to relish in: a myriad of dead bodies, some piled on top of each other, and blood splattered and spilled everywhere.

he ignores of all that as his feet take him to where he senses your cursed energy.

he sees you standing in the middle of the bodies, and your stance is weak. you’re clutching your side, trying to stop the bleeding. he slowly walks towards to you and teases, “what happened? the queen got hurt?”

you let out a small chuckle, “shut up; it’s a minor injury, nothing worth noting.”

that is until the skin over your chest starts bubbling, and your heart explodes. the blood splashes all over him, and your body drops lifelessly to the floor.

sukuna’s eyes lock with your own blank ones, and he can’t process all the feelings he has.

his chest starts heaving particularly quickly, and his jaw clenches. he bends to his knees—something he never thought he would do—and raises your head towards his, searching for a glimpse of your cursed energy.

his eyes bore into your own as he speaks your name roughly.

“stop playing games, y/n!” he barked, shaking your head in his hand, but you grace him with no response.

“haha! I took out your dear wife; what will you do about it now, you monster?!”

sukuna eyes’ snap to where the voice came from.

he then decides that he will put that man through torture that is not even close to the amount of fury in his chest. sukuna is silent, as he gently lays your head down and walks towards the man.

the sorcerer’s smile starts crumbling, and he quickly falls on his back while trying to move away from sukuna.

“s-stay back, or I will kill you!” he attempts to threaten, but sukuna’s expression is blank. blank being a permanent furrowing of his eyebrows and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the moment the sorcerer turns his back, trying to flee, sukuna cuts his feet.

sukuna doesn’t give him the chance to scream and wordlessly stomps on his back. little by little, he presses harder on the man under him.

he continues until he hears the cracking of bones and coughs full of blood. sukuna watches as the man tries to claw at his feet, in attempt to escape.

“I will make you suffer ten times over for what you have done.”

and it goes down in history as the biggest carnage sukuna has ever committed.

it didn’t stop at that man.

it extended to all the villages surrounding the vicinity. every sorcerer met a crueller death than the one before him. the single women were eaten, and the married ones were slaughtered.

no man was to enjoy what he was stripped of, and he would let the world remember your name along his through the passage of time, and he would make the temple he erected in your name stand tall forever.

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will rat you out to my bestie

check out my buy me a coffee!

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v6quewrlds · 4 months ago

Text

❝ birthday boy, a. iosivas. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: the birthday boy's turning 25. it's only right he gets his present.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: okay so boom, storytime. this idea hit me exactly five hours ago after i saw a clip of troye giving vinnie a lap dance on tour. immediately thought about subby!andrei which is perfect bc i wanted to write a bday fic for him anyways. so i hope y'all enjoy. she's short and sweet <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, lap dance, grinding, handjob, blowjob, a hint of sub!andrei, description of ejaculation.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: andrei iosivas x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 1.9k.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam enveloping your naked body like a warm embrace. The scent of vanilla and musk filled the air, a tantalizing hint of what was to come. You toweled off with a hum to yourself, your passion twists clinging to the dampness as you walked into the bedroom, your bare feet whispering on the plush carpet. You glanced at the bed, where Andrei, your boyfriend, lay sprawled out, scrolling through his phone.

He looked up at you, his brown eyes smoldering as he took in your freshly scrubbed skin. "You're killing me, baby," he murmured, his hand unconsciously adjusting his growing erection through his pants. "I can't wait for this surprise anymore."

You giggled, your full lips curving in a knowing smile. "Patience, birthday boy," you sang, your voice a velvety purr.

You strutted over to the dresser, your naked curves swaying with a seductive grace. From the top drawer, you pulled out a black lace lingerie set, holding it up against your body in the mirror. The reflection revealed your dark areolas and the promise of more to come. You slipped on the lingerie, feeling the material hug your curves like a second skin.

Andrei's eyes followed your every move, his breath hitching as he watched you change into your underwear. His dick strained against the fabric of his pants, a silent plea for release. You noticed his struggle and couldn't resist a little tease. You turned to face him, throwing your passion twists over your shoulder without a word before reaching for his Bluetooth speaker on the nightstand.

Andrei's eyes widened in anticipation as you reached for his phone, the light from the bedside lamp casting shadows across your body, making you seem to glow. Without a moment of hesitation, he handed it over, your manicured fingers navigating to Spotify. You hit the play button and a sultry R&B melody filled the room.

The first notes of your sex playlist hit the air, a bass line that vibrated through his chest and straight to his lower half. His eyes never left you as you turned the volume up just right, a knowing look on your face. He recognized the first track immediately, your favorite song that never failed to set the mood.

You strutted back over to the bed, your hips moving to the rhythm as if the music lived in your very bones. Andrei's eyes traced the lines of your body, the silk of your skin glistening under the soft light. He cursed to himself, his gaze devouring every inch of you.

"Sit up," you ordered, gesturing to the edge of the bed. Your tone was playful but firm, leaving no room for argument. Andrei did as he was told, his legs trembling slightly as he followed your command, his heart racing.

You positioned the speaker just right, ensuring that the music surrounded you both. You stepped closer, your movements fluid as water, and began to sway in front of him. The beat of the song matched the rhythm of your hips, which rolled in a mesmerizing dance that made Andrei's mouth water. You placed one hand on his shoulder, your nails digging in slightly as you ground yourself against his thigh. He released a breath, his cock jumping in response.

Your other hand trailed down your body, teasing your skin as you moved. Andrei watched, his eyes following the path you took, his own hand twitching with the desire to do the same. The room grew hotter, the air thick with lust as the music grew more intense.

The second song began to play, an impossibly slower song. You stepped closer to Andrei, your thighs parting to straddle him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you began to grind against him. He groaned, his dick straining against you, desperate for contact.

"Take your pants off," you breathed, your voice low and commanding.

Andrei's hands shook as he unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. He slid his pants down, revealing his boxer briefs, the fabric tented with his arousal. You licked your lips, a wicked glint in your eye.

Your hands traveled down your stomach, your fingertips grazing the edge of your lace panties. Andrei could see the dampness already soaking through the fabric, a testament to your own desire. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet yours as you slid closer, your wetness brushing against him.

"Not yet," you whispered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

You leaned in, your breath hot on his neck as you kissed him lightly. Your teeth grazed his earlobe, sending a shiver down his spine. "First, the full show."

The music was a siren's call, guiding Andrei's eyes as they traced the lines of your body. He watched, his breathing ragged, as you reached behind your back and unclasped the bra. It fell away, revealing your firm, round breasts. They bounced slightly as you moved, your hardened nipples peaked with arousal.

"You're so beautiful, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You giggled, the sound low and throaty. "Thank you, Drei," you said, leaning in to kiss him, your breasts pressing against his bare chest. Your hand snaked around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss grew deeper, your tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his. Andrei groaned, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, his thumbs grazing the damp fabric of your panties.

The third song kicked in, a rhythmic bass that had you both grinding against each other. You pulled away, a glint of mischief in your eyes. You stepped back, placing a hand on his chest to keep him seated as you turned around. You bent at the waist, your ass high in the air as you slid the panties down, revealing your toned backside. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Andrei's breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the lace, leaving it in a pool at your feet. He took in the view of your bare pussy, already glistening with excitement. The music grew more intense, and you began to dance again, your movements slower and more deliberate. You knelt to your knees, your ass swaying as you grabbed the base of his cock through his boxers, your nails scraping gently along his length.

He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as you began to tug at his boxers. Inch by torturous inch, you revealed his hardened shaft, until it sprang free, standing proudly against his stomach. Your hand wrapped around it, your grip firm but gentle as you began to stroke him in time with the beat.

Andrei's hands clenched the bed, his chest heaving with each stroke you administered. The room was alive with the throb of the bass. Your grip tightened, your thumb tracing the precum beading at the tip of his cock. You leaned in, your warm breath fanning over his shaft, and whispered, "You want me to suck it?"

"Fuck yes," he hissed, the words barely leaving his mouth before you took him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him like a warm, wet glove. Andrei's eyes rolled back in his head, the sensation of your tongue swirling around his head nearly sending him over the edge. You sucked him deep, your cheeks hollowing as you took him to the back of your throat. The sight of you eagerly pleasuring him was almost too much to handle.

Your hand kept rhythm with your mouth, your nails lightly raking his thighs as you worked him. Andrei's hips began to move, thrusting up to meet your mouth, his control slipping away as the music swelled around the two of you. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. He watched in the mirror across from the bed, his muscles tensing at the sight of the back of your head bobbing up and down his length, your twists flowing down your back.

The music grew more intense, and you pulled away, panting. "Take these off," you demanded, pointing to his boxer briefs. Andrei complied, his cock bobbing free as he kicked the material away.

You straddled him again, this time with your slick pussy pressing against his thigh. Andrei groaned, his hands reaching for your hips, but you slapped them away playfully.

"Not yet," you purred, your breath warm and sweet. Instead, you reached for his chin, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

Your eyes searched his tensing features, the music a pulsing heartbeat in the background. Andrei's own heart hammered in his chest, his anticipation a tangible force in the air. You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest, and kissed him hard. Your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking him from base to tip in time with the beat of the music.

"I wanna give my birthday boy the best present," you murmured, your voice a siren's whisper that sent another jolt of need through Andrei's body as he moaned painfully. You continued your movements over his shaft, watching as he groaned out.

His brown eyes closed as he whispered, "You're the only present I need, baby."

"Gonna come for me, birthday boy?" You taunted, your hand moving faster, your thumb circling the sensitive ridge of his head. Andrei's eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and he nodded frantically, unable to form words through his lust. The room was a symphony of his heavy breathing and the bass of the music, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the rhythm.

"Come for me, Drei," you encouraged, your strokes now a blur as you watched him, his eyes locked on yours. His hips bucked, his body begging for release. He was so close, so very close.

And then the dam broke. Andrei's body tensed, a moan ripping from his chest as he came, spurts of hot cum landing on his stomach and chest. You slowed your movements, your hand milking him through the last of his orgasm, watching with a smug smile as his cock twitched and spasmed in your grip.

The music switched to a new song, something slower, more sensual, as you climbed off of him. You stood to your full height and leaned down to kiss him again. He tasted himself on your lips and groaned as you deepened the kiss.

"I love you," Andrei murmured against your mouth, his breathing still heavy. Your smile grew wider as you broke the kiss, your eyes sparkling with satisfaction. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you reached for a towel, his hands reaching to steady your hips. You wiped the evidence of his release from his body, your movements gentle and tender.

"Thank you, baby," Andrei managed to say, his voice still thick with pleasure. Your eyes softened as they met his, a soft smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in to kiss him again, your tongue dancing with his in a slow, passionate dance.

"I love you too, baby. Happy birthday," you murmured against his lips, your breath sweet and warm. Andrei's eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste of your mouth, feeling a sense of peace wash over him, the afterglow of his climax lingering as his muscles relaxed.

#&. cassie writes.#andrei iosivas #andrei iosivas fanfic #andrei iosivas x reader #andrei iosivas fic #andrei iosivas smut #cincinnati bengals #bengals #andrei iosivas x you #x black reader #x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #black!reader

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2kiran · 7 months ago

Note

Hii so i just discovered ur blog and im obsessed.

Could you pls write m!reader x mace bc I bearly see any mace fic😞

Can it be like mace draging reader in a left out room before a mission and like yk..👀

-🌊

❛ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 ❜ ➖ osh.

pairing: mace x reader content: explicit, dom male reader, dry humping

One fact about MACE? He will take you whenever he wants. It doesn’t matter how busy or angry you might be; you’re coming with him. It’s a regular occurrence at this point—suddenly getting yanked by the wrist and ushered to some secluded area.

It isn’t any different now.

“Well, what are you waitin’ for? Take it off.”

There it is. That impatience you think you’ve grown fond of.

“Relax.” Before you’re able to grasp your belt, MACE crowds you against the wall. Impatience emerged as a huff, caught within his mask before he tugged it off of his head. Carefully, he leans in and seals his lips against yours. He breathes slowly, a hand slithering to the front of your pants.

Cupping your growing bulge, he gives a gentle squeeze in approval. “Mmmph...” He moans into your mouth, his hot tongue teasing your lips before pushing past. It’s passionate, dare you say longing, but it’s still bruising. Teeth clanking, wet muscle flicking, and he lets out a muffled whimper when he feels you harden beneath his gloved palm.

Distracting you with his wandering lips, his hands trace every inch of your body over your gear. Rough, calloused hands reach up to your shoulders, and he breaks the kiss as he shoves you to the ground. One of his gloved palms cradles the back of your head, considerate enough to not let you bang against bricks.

“The hell?”

You grunt from the impact, a boot kicking beneath your knees before he straddles your hips. “You could’ve asked me instead.” Your hands find his waist. “No fun in that.” He huffs out a chuckle, flashing a grin. Ducking his head, MACE begins to travel lower from your cheek.

“Gonna be,” a kiss to your jaw, “gone for,” the pink muscle darts out between his lips, “a few weeks.” He drags it across a patch of skin. Angling his hips forward, he grinds down on your clothed cock while sinking his teeth into your neck. It could’ve distracted you if he hadn’t bit hard enough to nearly draw blood.

“Fuck--” You inhale sharply, fingers digging into his sides. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

MACE snorts, pressing his pelvis against yours before pushing himself back. “I need my luck.” His tongue swipes around the mark, sloppily lapping and sucking on it, his drool trickling down your skin.

You quirk a brow, guiding his movements, and it takes everything in him not to restlessly grind on your dick. “How are you getting it like this?” You can feel him smile on the side of your neck, hooking a finger underneath your collar to offer a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Still haven’t figured it out?”

His thighs suddenly lock around you before bucking against your hard-on as though he were attempting to ride you through the barriers of clothing. “You’re my lucky charm,” he pants, a whine bubbling low within his chest as he humps you like a dog, “and this damn cock. Hngh, shit, I might miss it.”

He grounds down, shifting in little circles, softly whimpering. “Just it?” You wrap an arm around him, his breath hitching. You’re able to feel how he uncontrollably throbs, his legs trembling from how he’s practically bouncing on your lap.

His pants were sticking to him uncomfortably, hard length straining against the material. “No,” He huffs, cheeks hot from embarrassment and arousal, “you know what the answer is.”

The cotton of his underwear was stained, friction numbing his brain and making him leak. MACE felt like an animal in heat, thrusting his ass back onto the outline of your cock. His brows pinched in frustration; it wasn’t enough—the emptiness has him aching.

He knows he has time to waste.

And MACE always gets what he wants.

446 notes · View notes

usomads · 27 days ago

Note

hey this might be too smutty but can you write a oneshot of a wwe employee who has a secret crush on roman reigns. She has to go roman's locker room, she gets so caught up in admiring roman's handsomeness and aura that roman was preparing to masturbate (which she ends watching). Roman didn't notice she was in his room.

Red-Handed // Roman Reigns x Reader

Request #1: “Can you write a Dom/Sub oneshot of Roman and his lover. Roman is punishing his lover by not having sex with her but he does torture by masturbating in front of her”

Request #2: “Hey this might be too smutty but can you write a oneshot of a wwe employee who has a secret crush on Roman Reigns. She has to go to Roman’s locker room, she gets so caught up in admiring Roman’s handsomeness and aura that Roman was preparing to masturbate (which she ends watching). Roman didn’t notice she was in his room.”

Author’s Note -> Hello! I hope you don’t mind but I combined your request with another one I got because they’re so similar, then added some of my own flair lol. Also… too smutty? On THIS blog? Neverrrrr 🙂‍↕lmaooooo anyways here’s your request, I hope you enjoy and as always– happy reading! (we’re gonna just ignore that it took me a week to write this bc I got too dickstracted writing this scene lol)

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Masturbation (Male!Fem!), Daddy Kink, Spanking, Hand Worship, Hickies, Bruises, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.8k

“Hey, Y/N! Can you come here for a sec?” Your mentor, Jamie Noble, beckoned you over to him. You had only been employed as an assistant producer backstage at WWE for a couple months, being primarily assigned to shadow Jamie– aka, one of the main producers of the Bloodline segments. Because of this, you spent countless hours every week either attending in-person or virtual meetings with him, Bobby Roode, Paul Heyman, and the focal point of the Bloodline storyline, Roman Reigns, as you collectively planned out segments for upcoming shows. It was during these meetings you found yourself growing an attraction to the man they called the Tribal Chief, often getting lost in your own thoughts watching him as he gave his inputs, his words leaving his mouth smooth as velvet– the natural timbre of his voice low enough to vibrate you to the very core. You knew he knew it too, a deep smirk painting across his face as either Jamie or Bobby would have to snap you out of your trance you were in. It was pathetic how captivated you could become over a man’s voice, or the furrow of his brows when he was deep in thought, or the way a singular vein would grow prominent along his neck when he spoke in a passionate monologue about the story, or how the t-shirts and sweats he wore to meetings would define his features and cling to his body just right– snap out of it, Y/N.

“Yes, Mr. Noble?” You shake the thoughts out of your brain, focusing your attention on your boss.

“Y/N, for the last time, please call me Jamie. You’re making me feel ancient,” he laughs for a moment then regains his focus. “Anyways, I need you to stop by Roman’s locker room. We had to make a couple changes to the promo tonight, he’s already greenlighted them in case some segments run over… we’re about 10 minutes behind right now so we’re gonna have to adjust.” You swallow hard, nerves hitting you like a freight train as you listen to his orders. “Don’t look so nervous, Y/N, you’ll be fine. You need to get used to being alone with him, because one day I won’t be here anymore and…”

“I know, please, don’t remind me,” you laughed nervously, “I’ll let him know.” Jamie thanks you silently before turning his attention elsewhere as you stand in place for a moment, truly weighing your options. Don’t be stupid, Y/N. All you have to do is just let him know we’re short on time and that’s it. Nothing more. Relax. You shake your head to remove yourself from your own thoughts and let out a shaky breath before turning around and walking slowly down the hallway backstage. Your legs felt heavy as you willed yourself down the hall, occasionally stopping to say ‘hi’ to someone you recognized before reaching the door of Roman’s locker room. Nervously, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as your knuckles rapped on the wooden door in front of you– trying hard to not knock loudly. Surprisingly, no one answered. Maybe I wasn’t loud enough? You tried again, slightly louder this time as you knocked on the door. Again, nothing. Is he even in there? Maybe the third time’s the charm. Once more, you knocked on the door in front of you and were met with silence. That’s odd. But maybe he’s got headphones in and just can’t hear me. Do I–? Do I crack the door open to see? No, that’s too much. What if he– no, we don’t have much time, Y/N. Just open the fuckin’ door. Hesitantly, your fingers wrap around the cool metal of the doorknob and twist the handle– cracking the door open and using the small space to peek inside. Oh. My. God.

Roman was definitely inside, but you were not at all prepared for what you were currently seeing. The big mirror along the wall left nothing to the imagination as you watched him– his eyes shut and head thrown back as beads of sweat and water dripped down his torso, your eyes following as they trailed lower, watching as his right hand skillfully stroked his cock. Breathy groans fell from his lips as he pleasured himself, and you found yourself unable to look away. You shamelessly had imagined him like this, daydreamed about how beautiful he’d look consumed in his own pleasure, and found your own arousal making itself known as you watched. Unconsciously, your hand gravitated to and began rubbing your core as you bit the inside of your lip– making sure you wouldn’t be heard. You felt dirty watching him perform this very private act, but no matter how badly your mind tried to tell you this was wrong your eyes were trained on the man in front of you, stuck in place and unable to look away.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Shit. You quickly snapped out of your trance and moved behind the wall, embarrassment flooding over you as you pressed your lips together– holding your breath.

“I already saw you, Y/N,” Roman chuckled as you squeezed your eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Come in.” Your breath hitched in your throat, somehow more nerves rising to the surface. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, love. Come sit. I promise you, I’m not upset.” His tone softened and you released the breath you were holding, feeling unsure of your own foundation as you cracked the door open and snuck inside, shutting it behind you. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes so you settled for your shoes, focusing your complete attention on them as you walked into his dressing room and sat in a chair across from him.

“I– I just was coming to tell you that we have to s–switch to the other p–promo tonight… we’re behind schedule by about 10 minutes so…”

“That’s fine, now will you look at me?” You didn’t move, your gaze still trained to your shoes as a flush of red came across your cheeks, and tears brimmed your eyes.

“Y/N, look at me.” His tone, sharper this time– more demanding, forced your eyes to snap up to his. His gaze softened slightly as he saw yours, the look of guilt evident across your face.

“I– I’m so sorry, I–” your eyes widened as you unintentionally shifted your focus down his body– he’s still pleasuring himself. “Oh my god, um, I– I’ll just come back later,” You covered your eyes with your hand, gasping when you felt a larger, rougher hand wrap around your wrist and bring your hand back down to your side. Roman’s hand.

“Don’t act so shy now, princess, clearly you didn’t have a problem watching me through the mirror a few minutes ago, hmm?” You tried hard, to no avail, to look anywhere but at the hand that was wrapped around his cock.

“I–,”

“You what? You’re sorry?” You nodded slowly, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t believe you, Y/N.”

A wave of confusion crosses your face as you lock eyes with him, trying to ignore the way they were glazed over or how his brows furrowed trying to stifle his sounds of pleasure. He chuckled lowly at you, his eyes hooded and trained on you.

“I don’t believe you one bit, princess. I see the way you look at me. In meetings, Zoom calls, here backstage… I bet you’ve fantasized all about this, haven’t you?” You tried to speak but were immediately cut off. “Oh, and how could I forget? I saw you too.” You gasped softly, making him chuckle again. “Yeah, baby girl, don’t act so innocent. I saw that hand,” he motioned to the hand he had just placed at your side, “rubbing that pretty pussy of yours while you watched me… dirty, dirty girl. You could’ve gotten caught, you know…” Your body stiffened as you listened.

“So, you wanna try telling me you’re sorry, again?” Your lips pressed together as you looked at your lap, embarrassment growing by the second as he was calling you out like this. “That’s what I thought,” he said, a smirk present in his tone.

“Please.. I– I can’t lose this job. A–and..”

“Oh, sweetheart, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You look back up at him, a mixture of relief and shock in your eyes. “But, I don’t think you should get off that easily either…” Your chest sank, worry creeping back in at his words as he leaned back against the couch– still stroking himself. You watched him once more, no longer hiding your want for him, but he notices right away. “You want this, don’t you, Y/N?” You bite your lip in response, head nodding slightly as you continued to watch his hand. “Use your words, princess.”

“Y–yes…”

“As much as I’d love to give it to you,” he pauses, slowing his strokes, “I’m not sure you deserve it yet… but maybe I could be convinced.” He smirks, his eyes lowering at you– waiting for your next move.

“R–Roman–,”

“Please, Y/N, call me Joe.”

“O–okay… Joe…” you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you speak. “W–what do you w–want me to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas. Come here.” Hesitantly, you rise to your feet and stand between his legs, staring down at him. “Strip f’me, baby girl. Lemme see you.” You nod obediently as your fingers find the hem of your shirt, pulling the material over your head then finding the button of your jeans, Joe taking the lead and pulling the denim off your legs as you step out of them and push them to the side.

“Goddamn, Y/N, you been hidin’ all this from me?” Another blush comes across your cheeks, your arms instinctively coming up to cover your chest but Joe grabs your wrists and stops you. “Uh, uh, none of that. Now, get over here.” He pulls you by your wrists and pushes you down onto his lap, ass in the air as his large fingers trace down your spine, giving you chills.

“You’re gonna count until I tell you to stop… stop counting or mess up and we start all over, understand me?”

“Y-yes sir..” you mutter under your breath.

“Speak up, princess.” He demanded sharply, his nails digging into your ass cheek– making you wince.

“I understand,” you say louder this time as the man nods in satisfaction. Without warning, the palm of his hand connects with your ass cheek. You cry out, in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but somehow are able to whimper, “One.” Smack. A little harder this time, but you’re able to keep up with the count. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 5 you feel nothing but pure pleasure with each spanking his hand delivers. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 10 your ass is beat red, hand-shaped welts matching Joe’s identically form on the surface of the sensitive skin. Smack. Smack. By count 12 the pool of wetness that was contained by the fabric of your panties had now completely soaked through, leaving a puddle of your juices on Joe’s thigh.

Smack. Smack. Smack. “You love this shit, don’t you pretty girl?” Your ass had become numb at this point, tears pricking your eyes as you cried sounds of pleasure and whimpers of his name– never losing count. The hand that punished you was now caressing the welted skin, brushes of his rough palm making you wince as he soothed the area. Joe stops his movements to bring your body back up, wincing as your ass brushed the fabric of the couch.

“Look at my hand, ma. Look what you did.” He shows you his palm, which was equally as red as your bare ass. You weren’t sure what came over you, whether it was the heat of the moment or a secret fantasy but you found yourself reaching for his hand. His brows furrowed at your action, almost caught off guard but relaxed the moment you pressed your lips to the redness of his palm. You peppered kisses all across the palm, soothing it with your lips before giving the area small kitten licks with your tongue, further alleviating the redness– no, worshipping the hand that punished you. He watched in awe as your lips found the length of his fingers, kissing each digit before taking his index and middle fingers in your mouth, sucking gently around them as you stared into his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, “Think you deserve a reward, baby. Did so good f’me… you want that?” You remove his fingers from your mouth with a pop, looking into his eyes from your kneeled position.

“Please, daddy.” His eyes lit up at this new pet name, something within him igniting and driving him to practically pounce on you– pushing you down onto the couch as he climbs on top of you.

“Say that shit again.” His voice is low and demanding, rich with desire as he smirks down at you– oh, he liked that. A lot.

“Fuck me, daddy. Please.” You whine, biting your lip at him as he devours you with his eyes. His tip teases your entrance for a moment before fully entering you, giving you no warning and zero time to adjust before driving into you relentlessly. He uses his hands to grab the back of your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders, fully stretching you– imposing his will on your body and making you his personal plaything. Joe leans down to your neck and begins sucking on the skin, bruises rising to the surface to match the ones created under his fingertips on your hip bones. You knew you would never be able to hide them, especially after this, but you felt too damn good to give a fuck about a hickey or two– or ten.

Your moans and cries reverberated off the walls with a resounding echo, joining the sounds of your skin colliding and heavy breathing and filling the room. Your nails claw long scratches into the man’s back, the pain only further pushing him to fuck you harder.

“Fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight. Imma have to wear this pussy out more often, aren’t I? Yeah, you’d fuckin’ love that shit, huh? Tell Daddy how much you love his fuckin’ cock.”

“Mmm, I– I love it, daddy. Y– you fuck me s– so good…” You whimper, feeling the beginning of your climax start to form in your lower stomach.

“Shittt, you gonna cum for daddy like a good girl?” Your walls flutter around his length at his words, making him chuckle. “Yeah, you like it when I call you my good girl?” You moan in response, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“D– daddy I– I’m gonna… gonna cum…”

“Give it to me, princess. Been such a good girl for Daddy… mmm fuck, show me how good Daddy makes you feel. Cum f’me, baby.” Your pussy squeezes his cock before he can finish, your orgasm ripping through you as you arch off the couch and fully release on his cock. Your body violently shakes as the overwhelming pleasure completely consumes you and, for a moment, you’re seeing stars. Joe fucks you through your orgasm, his following shortly after as he paints your walls with his cum and fills your swollen pussy completely. For a moment you two remain there, trying to come down from your highs as you catch your breath. It’s silent between you for a couple minutes, until Joe breaks it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“What, to fuck my brains out?” You laugh, causing a smile to come across his face.

“No, well yes, but not just that… I mean even just laying here with you. You weren’t the only one who felt something, you know.” “Oh.. why didn’t you say something then?”

“You seemed really closed off, like I wanted to ask you out bu–”

“Hey, Joe!” The two of you hear Jamie's muffled voice as he knocks on the wooden door across the room from you. “I’m coming in, we’ve got our segment in 10 minutes!” Shit.

“Fuck, he can’t see you in here. Hold on,” Joe pulls out of you, making you wince, and brings you to your feet. “Here,” he ushers you into a closet, gathering as much of your clothing as he can and hiding it before shutting the door, although the room was still visible from the crack in the closet door. You watch quietly as Jamie and Joe discuss the upcoming segment, Joe seemingly being able to play it off like nothing happened.

“Oh, what’re these?” You hear Jamie interrupt, picking something up off the floor. “Looks like you and Ms. Y/N got quite a bit of ‘work’ done, huh?” He’s smirking teasingly at Joe while he holds something in his hand. You try to make out the item through the crack in the closet door, when it finally hits you– your black lace panties. Shit.

#roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns oneshot #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe

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ryoshiwaah · 17 days ago

Text

˖ ๋࣭݁ ⭑ Astronomy Lessons 🔭๋࣭⭑.

ᯓ🛸Warnings: a swear word, spelling mistakes and nothing else.

ᯓGenre: fluff, strangers to friends to situationship to idk.

ᯓ🔆Pairing: photographer!Minji x fem!reader

ᯓSynopsis: you're Minji's Sun, muse and best work of art.

ᯓStarring: Haerin as Minji's cousin & Hyein as your little sister.

ᯓ🛰️Word count: 2.9k

a/n: a one shot to feed you guys while we wait for my motivation to bring back Holidays, also the story is heavily inspired by 23.5 (watch it bc it's soooooo good and funny and fluffy), enjoyy!

If Minji was asked how much she loved the Sun on a scale of 0 to 10, she’d say 5, 5.5; sure it helped the plants grow, created the perfect light for photos and much more. The big star was fundamental to humans and the solar system, the whole thing was named after it too!

Spending half of her life in a darkroom thanks to her photography passion, Minji became sensitive to the sun’s light – She wore caps every day to cover her eyes, she bought so many that seeing her without one was odd, plus, she made space in her wardrobe just for them.

The photographer turned into some sort of vampire, worrying not only her poor mother but also her friends.

Though, she never got tired of, or annoyed at her Sun, you.

Minji basked into the light you emanated just by standing next to her, a warm feeling spread through her every time you got close enough for your shoulder to touch hers, or when you picked her up with your Vespa.

The scooter had a bright yellow color that reflected your personality perfectly: it was named “Sunny the third”. Lame, yes, but she found it cute.

“The third” part was added because that was your third scooter: you broke the first one by trying to race your dad’s car and ended up crashing into it, earning a 3 months grounding and a broken arm.

Sunny the second tragically died by the hands of a thief who, just like you, was a clumsy mess and crashed into a pole; the guy lit it on fire to hide the evidence but failed and burned his hand instead.

He was caught in the act and sent to jail for a week.

Let’s just say that now you guard your scooter from everyone and anyone, even the smallest insect will be “gently flicked away”.

Still, you didn’t miss the opportunity to help others, picking them up and driving them around. You were a kind soul that she couldn’t help but admire from behind her camera lens.

She noticed the way you went at a slow pace whenever she was with you, remembering the very first time she hopped on: tense, anxious – you name it.

Panicked screams left her lips when you speeded through the traffic, making sure to balance both of your weights.

The entire ride to school was chaos accompanied by laughter, your laughter, since Minji took her time to recover every now and then before starting to scream again until her lungs were empty.

After parking in front of the building, she immediately got off and thanked you way too many times before remembering she hadn’t introduced herself – “I’m Minji by the way, Kim Minji.”

“I never heard of you, new student?” You said after taking off your helmet, a bright smile on your face.

Your face matched your voice, sweet and adorable. Minji felt uneasy at how fast her heart was beating, it was a surprise her soul didn’t start levitating from how gorgeous you looked – gravity seemed to be pulling it down when you poked her cheek.

“Helloooo, Earth to Minji!”

“Uh- Huh? Yes. I’m new here.”

“Cool! My name is Lee Y/n, nice to meet you.”

From then on you noticed Minji being a constant presence in your life, not only in school but even in your own home: her cousin, Haerin, was a good friend of your little sister Hyein so every time they hung out, the photographer ended up tagging along.

Her parents forced her to go out, otherwise she would spend all day studying and taking pictures, which meant she locked herself in her darkroom and avoided social interaction with everyone.

Eventually things got always too girly for her, so you invited her over to your room, making the younger girls wonder what happened behind the four walls.

You spent your time watching Minji’s camera roll, gushing and praising her about the amazing photos she took; she would blush and tell you she wasn’t that good, but not so secretly loved hearing you compliment her.

The way your eyes lit up when she showed you the new photos she took, or how you would beg her to take a picture of you was hilarious.

“Oh pleaseee!” Your whine rang in her ear while she worked on the new composition, adjusting the settings of her camera.

“No, Y/n, my life already revolves much around you, stop asking.”

That made you slap the back of her head, a move that she expected since she mindlessly avoided it.

“That’s not true! We barely see each other anymore…”

“We saw each other yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day befo–”

“Okay! Okay! I get it geez.” You scoffed, bringing your knees over on the table you were sitting on, leaning against the wall behind you.

As Minji took pictures of the various objects scattered on the table, claiming that it was contemporary art, you just looked around the room of the photography club: all the artworks of the members were stuck to the wall, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Haerin’s main topic was cats, of course, your friend’s cousin was obsessed with the felines and took pictures whenever she saw one. But a few of them portrayed a girl with curly hair, smiling brightly at the camera.

Hanni’s side of the wall was funny and covered in polaroids, the dates written in red while the notes were in black, some of them were with loved ones, probably family members, some of herself and others of food.

“She could be an influencer.” You mumbled to yourself, before taking a look at Minji’s corner, skipping the other 3 columns of pictures before her.

You felt like witnessing the whole universe before you.

There were photos of the moon, stars and constellations; Minji had connected the stars with a light blue pen and wrote the names in the corner. The only thing missing was a picture of the sun.

You knew she didn’t like being exposed to it, she had glasses because her eyes couldn’t adjust well to the light, so you guessed that was the reason why she didn’t have a photo of it.

Speaking of sunlight, the right side of your face started to feel hotter due to the light coming from the window. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warm feeling of the rays on your skin.

‘Click’

The familiar sound made you turn to Minji who was pointing the camera towards you, a faint smile making its way to her lips; you saw that expression tons of times, it was the same face she made after taking a good picture. The satisfaction etched in her eyes.

An inaudible gasp left your lips after realizing what happened: after months of begging, Minji finally took a picture of you with her camera, not her phone, her beloved camera!

You looked at the photographer with wide eyes, not knowing if you were dreaming or not.

“Minji?” You asked incredulously, as if she had grown a second head, your body shifting so it leaned closer to hers. Your faces were inches away, noses almost touching.

“Did you really just take a picture of me??”

“No.”

And then she turned back, working on her previous task.

“No? I heard the cick and you were pointing your camera at me.”

“Nope, I think being exposed to the sun kills your brain cells.”

“Wha–”

“Here.”

She interrupted you by sticking her cap on top of your head, changing the size from behind since your head was smaller than hers.

“There there…” She smiled, her dimples showing, as she patted your head. “You should be okay now.”

An exasperated sigh left your lips before you slumped back against the wall, now letting your legs loosely swing from on top of the table. You were rethinking the interaction because where on Earth did that make sense?!

Luckily for Minji, you forgot about the picture the next hour and were too bored to do anything at all, just wanting your friend to clock out from the club.

An hour later you two were out, your body feeling heavy from the sleepiness. “Note to self, never accompany Minji for club activities ever again.”

“Are you sure you can drive?”

Minji’s husky voice snapped you out of your daze. Already knowing where this was going, you reached into your pockets and tossed the taller girl your keys. She caught them with a fond smile before picking you up and sitting you on the scooter.

“I could have climbed it up myself, you know?”

Oh, how that sleepy voice made Minji feel all fuzzy and glad she was alive to hear it, a small thought made its way through her mind: what if one day she would be able to hear it every morning when she woke up… that’d be perfect.

She started humming happily while switching the cap she gave you with the helmet, securing it so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Happy?”

“Hmhm.”

“What made you happy?”

“A sleepy girl that I’m driving home.”

She said casually before thrusting forward and turning on the bike, taking off and heading to your house.

Your arms were secured around her waist and your head was resting on her back; it didn’t take long before you fell asleep, holding tighter on your gir– friend. On your friend.

“Saturn is Haerin’s favorite, I think it’s a basic answer.”

“And why’s that, my dear astronomer?”

It was a Friday night, Minji just crashed at your house like usual and you were discussing planets after staring at your ceiling for too long. It had the planets and some stars scattered around so the conversation started naturally.

“Nowadays Saturn is so mainstream, ugh, people like it for its aesthetic.”

“You’re too harsh, Y/n.”

“What? It’s your favourite planet too?”

Minji scoffed, gently pushing you away from her but you rolled towards her body, making sure that the side of your heads were touching.

“I’ll let you know that I don’t have a favourite planet… They’re just balls in space.”

“It’s like saying that your photos are just colored pieces of paper.”

Your hand wrapped around her wrist, making sure her finger was pointing up at the ceiling, towards Venus.

“That’s Venus, Taurus’ ruling planet.” then you pointed to another one, making Minji shriek from the suddenness of the movement. “And that’s Mars, Scorpio’s ruling planet.”

You let her arm go, as it rests on the ground again. She’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what your words meant. You talked about you two’s zodiac signs, there must be a reason.

“Uh… thank you for letting me know?”

You turned your head towards Minji, raising an eyebrow. Why was she acting like she didn’t know about the planets? Her photos were all about astronomy and space.

Plus, you didn’t spend the entire month trying to get all the names right just for her to be unaware of what you were talking about.

“You don’t get it?”

“I fear I don’t, sorry.” The look on her face turned into a sad one when she saw the hope slowly fading from your eyes, but then, a wholehearted laugh left her speechless.

All you could do was exactly that, laugh and slowly roll on the carpet as the realization hit you: all those hours studying to impress Minji were for nothing, because, apparently, the photographer barely knew what zodiac signs and ruling planets were.

“Your photos…” You began as the giggles began to quiet down, leaving you breathless and Minji scared she might have just watched you have a manic episode over heavens knows what.

“Moon phases, the constellations, the stars. I thought you knew all about astronomy.”

Then it hit Minji, it was like a lightbulb turned on in her peanut brain; she sat up and looked down at you.

“Don’t tell me you know all of this because you were trying to impress me.”

She used the same tone a parent would use when scolding their kid, but decorated with a hint of amusement. Minji was incapable of imagining someone putting so much effort for her, but knowing that you, out of all people, did that, made her whole day and probably year.

In response you remained glued to the wooden ground, staring at the planets on your ceiling, hoping they could tell you what to do, now that your information was useless for the both of you.

“I learned all that for nothing!” You whined, your feet kicking the ground while you threw your little tantrum.

At first Minji chuckled, but then she thought about it and shook your shoulder, making you glare at her.

“Teach me the secrets of astronomy, I want to understand, no matter how long it takes.”

The astronomy lessons went on for weeks. Even if they were only an excuse to spend more time together, Minji started learning for real, surprising you: not only she was a fast learner, but she was actually interested in the topic.

It was regenerating talking to someone who was so willing to listen, that’s why you never lost a chance to mention even the smallest detail.

You spent so much time together that Minji started to call you her Sun, while only in your mind you thought of her as your Moon; you’d stare at her hoping she would catch you and call you out on it, but instead, your best friend was always focused on the teacher.

Or, in general, something else that wasn’t you.

The probability that you and Minji weren’t aligned anymore made you doubt your own feelings towards her – You noticed it on a wednesday, while eyeing the lunch lady give out food to your sister and Haerin, the cat-like girl talked about her cousin’s birthday coming up.

Your train of thought drifted from the kimbap you were going to ask for, to the photographer, way too quickly.

“3 Kim Minji please…”

The lunch lady raised an eyebrow, already fed up with you. “You mean kimbap.”

“That’s what I said…”

With a roll of her eyes she almost tossed at you your 3 miserable kimbap and called for the next one in line. Confused but not in the mood to deal with old women, you decided to just walk away, food in your hands.

“You said my name, moron.”

The familiar voice startled you, almost making the rice rolls fall from your grip, but you weren’t so careless with food, thankfully.

“Did I– Oh shit, I did.” You blushed after recollecting yourself and your train of thoughts.

“You think about me so much it messes up your social interactions, what a loser.”

“I overheard your cousin talking about your upcoming birthday and you popped in my mind, miss stubborn.”

“All excuses!” She grinned smugly, now getting in front of you. How she got so dangerously close you didn’t know, but damn she looked good: her hair was put up in a messy bun, while she had a jacket over her school uniform.

Her face was naturally beautiful, but what attracted your eyes were her plump lips.

Before you knew it, she pecked your forehead, stole the kimbap you started eating and ran away, leaving you in the middle of the canteen – a blushing, gay panicking mess, standing there with food in her hands.

The more time passed, the more you started to doubt your knowledge. It seemed like the Sun’s orbit changed, making it move around the now static Moon.

Your infatuation became stronger every day, and you couldn’t deny that Minji felt the same too. But when was she going to make a move, or maybe, when were you going to do something about the growing tension?

Haerin was tired of hearing her cousin ramble for hours about you, she swore Minji said your name so many times that she lost count, even of how many times she spaced out.

Things got worse when you bought the photographer a new camera for her birthday, making her promise to take more photos of you. And she did, of course she did.

If months before you had to beg her on your knees to even turn her camera towards you, now it was the complete opposite; it seemed like she had no other subject to snap photos of than you.

Of course, you thought she was just sticking to her word, her promise, but deep inside you were aware that Minji’s behaviour shifted since her birthday. None of them had the guts to confront one another, so the situation remained…questionable.

To her though, you’d become more than a simple Sun; you were art, her constant inspiration and muse, the deep feelings she nurtured for you could be seen in her photos and the dedication she put in them.

She spent hours editing out and in anything that could make you the center of the picture, even if that meant learning how to use photoshop, she’d do it for you.

The only person that didn’t notice all of that was the protagonist of the works, you.

Only the ones stopping by for a visit could notice that Minji’s corner changed completely, displaying only certain photos, that of course were space related, carefully arranged around the best snaps she took of Y/n.

A detail, one that could blow up Minji’s aloof and careless facade, exposing her feelings to the world, was the little sentence written at the corner of the photo at the very center.

“My Sun”

Once again, the photographer found herself reconsidering her opinion about the protagonist of the solar system, seeing her reflection into the picture of the Moon that just like Earth, found herself orbiting around the Sun.

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