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starkwlkr · 3 months ago

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she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

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pedgito · 1 month ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 | Javier Pena x reader

summary | Authority looks good on him, but you think he'd look ever better on his knees.

author's note | written for @wannab-urs’s DMAMC 2025. forever and always a special thank you to @murder-wife for the beta.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!javier, dom!reader (but lbr, they’re both switch) obviously. reader has vague backstory (related to work), enemies to fwb, they fuck a lot oops, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), restraints, brat!javi as god intended, choking, coming untouched, edging for the greater good, amen.

word count — 6k

Javier Peña dominated every facet of his life.

Work. Home. It was no surprise with how easily he authoritates a room.

You’ve learned to mind your business at work, keeping to the file and lunch room. There, back, never anything less or more. It was a security net, a secondary salary unless your primary fell through—it hardly did, considering there was always dirt to dig up, but it was nice to have the additional income. One less stressor among the many. The road here had been long, sinuous and complicated and you were thankful for this overdue regularity in your life.

The one thing Javier hadn’t figured out about you was that you and him had more in common than he expected. Different sides of the same coin, you yearned for the control and command in whatever situation you found yourself in, liked the idea of you having power over the outcome.

It was a high that you craved like nothing else.

“Morning,” He greets casually—you’ve known him for a distance for weeks now, only trading files in and out, turning in his paperwork, signing off on certain things without looking like a robot. Assess, find, file, repeat. It was monotonous, but it was easy, “what are we up to today, cups?”

That stupid fucking nickname.

It was a running joke amongst your co-workers—he’d only caught on recently—watching how you plowed through a pot of coffee on your own, never re-using the same flimsy cup, always grabbing a fresh one. Your stack was only about six inches tall today, but you were running on mostly fumes.

“Fuck off,” You sneer, a lighthearted roll of your eyes, “this it?”

You yank the file from his grip as he spots the watch on your wrist—he analyzes, squints, grabbing your arm without acknowledgement as he speaks his mind.

“Pretty nice for a file clerk salary,” He frowns in consideration, “Cartier?”

He’s been prying recently.

Javier didn’t have any evidence, but there was a deep suspicion.

One, you were a mole—working for Escobar, infiltrating the DEA from the inside.

Or two, you were just a liar.

Your story has never changed. You transferred from the states a few months ago. You were living at a small apartment in town that most of the staff seemed to hole up in during their transfers and long-term stays. Javier would occasionally catch you in the hallway, but he never talked. He was always pensive, stiff, odd.

You worked as a file clerk, did your job, and went home. That was it.

Except it wasn’t.

He’d figure it out. It would eat away at him until it did.

“It was a gift,” You retort, pulling your wrist from his grip as you sign on the paperwork inside the file and place it aside, fiddling with the jewelry on your wrist as you fit the watch back into place.

Also, not a lie. It was a gift…from a client.

You side eye him as he continues to stare before you finally get annoyed enough to bark at him.

“Are you lost, Peña?” You ask, “You’re holding up the line,” He peers over his shoulder at the few men that have gathered behind him, cigarettes perched on their lips and an expectation for him to hurry it up, “Keep it moving,” You tease with a nod of your chin.

He flicks at the stack of cups and sends them tumbling to the floor with a triumphant grin, watching as your mouth gaped, trying and failing to hold back the chuckle that rises in your chest.

It was a harmful back and forth—not quite enemies, not friends either.

Eventually, he finds himself with a dilemma.

Weeks and weeks of nothing on the trail to take down Escobar and he’s grasping at straws, on edge, and you’re the easiest target for him to attack.

–

It was a simple trading of evidence for payment as you were gearing to make the drive home, helping out a co-worker under very specific terms that he wouldn’t approach you during work hours—he was almost positive his wife was cheating on him, begging you to dig up information on the supposed suspect.

She was going on extended vacations for work, a traveling nurse with a bad habit of leaving evidence behind—though, with her, it seemed like less of a mistake than her poor husband thought it to be. Either way, you got the information and he handed the money over.

It was one of the easier sides of your other job, less of a risk than running surveillance or being asked to break the law by government officials who were either corrupt or just desperate for information or a helpful break in a case.

Javier was being nosey, unfortunately. And you knew he was watching, turning your head to him as he approached when the coast was clear, cornering you at your door with a mere centimeter of distance between you both.

“Insubordination, really?” Javier bites, eyebrow raised in skepticism as he looks you over, not even a twitch of intimidation in your expression. “Carrillo would have your ass over this.”

You shake your head in amusement, pressing a gentle hand against his chest to shove him backwards, patting as if to console a child, “Javier, I don’t know what you think you saw, but you might need to take a break on these late nights at the office. They’ll drive you crazy.”

“Crazy?” Javier echoes, “Estás loca,”

There’s a certain jeer to his tone, stress collecting in his furrowed brow that helps you figure out where to attack, “Are you okay?” You ask with a serious tone, “Do I need to report you to Carrillo?”

“Traidora,” He remarks, “You think I can’t tell?”

You tilt your head in question, ignoring his own.

“I haven’t had a break in this shit in weeks, chasing a fuckin’ ghost—do you work for him?”

There it was, the lapse in judgment you were waiting for.

“Who is it?” You ask, “What are you after?”

He gives you a name, a subtle amusement to his tone like you should already know. It doesn’t immediately ring a bell and it shouldn’t, considering what he was accusing you of was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Carrillo knows what I do,” You tell him honestly, “So, go ahead. Tell him. I dare you.”

You knew it was a mix of work stress and whatever demons Javier was harboring in the backseat of his mind, a job that riddles you with guilt and what-ifs, it tends to boil over.

Whatever—you’d do him this one favor.

“Te verás estúpido.”

It shuts him up, thankfully.

–

You’ve got the file on his desk by eight o’clock the next morning—a long night of extensive research that led you toward a full file of usual information, whereabouts, alias, anything that could help out, even just a little. You’re pouring up a fresh cup of coffee when he spots it, dropping his bag into his chair and picking up the file like it was a spectacle, peering around all sides before he flips it open, a pink sticky note pressed into the first page.

His nose twitches, like a sniffle as he crumples up the note and shoves it into his back pocket, his eyes peering up to lock with yours from across the room, like he sensed your gaze. A smile gracing your face as you stirred your coffee, nothing out of the ordinary.

He approaches you near lunch, the file room emptying as people are heading toward the break room, but Javier catches you at the perfect time, back turned and he’s slapping the file on the desk behind you with a distinct clearing of his throat.

“You wanna explain this?” Javier inquires, fingertips spread across the file as he slides it toward you.

You stare him down, a silent challenge as his hands settle against his hips.

You push the file back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He digs the pink note from his pocket and flattens it out, turning over a closed file to match up the messy cursive handwriting, “Is that not your handwriting?”

You quickly snap the file closed and pick it up, shoving it into his chest.

“Take the damn file, Peña,” You order him, a sheer darkness to your gaze that glosses over, compelling Javier to take the file without another word, “I’m not a traitor, okay?”

Javier chews at his bottom lip in thought, taking a quick glimpse through the file once more, impressed by the collection of information that has had him stalled for weeks, handed to him on a silver platter.

“You wanna grab lunch?” He asks casually, peering up at you from the file, a smile curling under his thick mustache, “My treat.”

“It fucking better be,” You remark.

–

It starts that way, a gradual comradery shared over lunch and late nights, moving from twenty-four hour dine-in spots to the comforts of your own apartments, trading off in a discombobulated schedule.

A big break in the case called for celebration, having finally caught the one member of Escobar’s entourage that they had been after for months, having been helping Javier behind the scenes with no expectation of credit, thankful that it didn’t intersect with much of your other work.

“So, is it usually cheating couples?” Javier asks curiously, shooting him a look of warning, “C’mon, chiquita, I’m curious.”

You shrug, closing the file as you tossed it aside, stretching back on the couch with your open beer in hand, enjoying the soft, plushiness of Javier’s couch.

“Family, sometimes,” You add, “And strangers, more often than you think.”

Javier makes a small hmph sound through closed lips, scratching as his cheek as his thumb circles the lip of the bottle, oddly reminiscent of something far too dangerous to allow your mind to wander towards this late at night, three bottles in, and sleep deprivation on the rise.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Javier asks after a long period of silence, still repeating the same subconscious motion to the bottle as it sits between his thighs, legs outstretched and his left knee knocking against your own that were curled underneath you know.

“Give me a minute,” You murmur, eyes falling closed as down the rest of you beer and place it on the floor, your hand failing to support you as it slips from the cushion, sending you tumbling to the floor at Javier’s feet, laughing immediately at your drunken clumsiness as he leans forward in concern, placing the beer bottle on the table as he reached for you.

“Shit, you’re a sloppy drunk,” He jokes, subtly pushing your hair back to check for injury, a sudden charge to the air as you kneel between his legs, his chest hovering above, his tongue peeking out to lick his bottom lip, “is it always that bad?”

You laugh again, a soft snort through your nose as you shake your head.

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” You remark, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he chuckles, the faint smell of barley on his breath as you’ve come to realization that not only had his hand stayed on your face, but the other had joined—it was a silent yearning that Javier couldn’t find the balls to act on, so you do it for him, “—are you gonna ask to fuck me yet or not?”

“Is that what you want?” Javier counters, “You want me to fuck you?”

“I mean,” His thumb grazed along your bottom lip, a subtle pull that has you rising to press the palms of your hands against his thigh, willing to crawl into his lap if he pulled you further into him, but instead you hovering back, a challenging gaze and smirk only our lips, “unless you want me to fuck you?”

Javier’s face pinches together in confusion, amused but still wholeheartedly confused.

“You didn’t say no,” You tease, another beat of silence as he remains undecided before you’re answering him, “yes—I want you to fuck me, Javi.”

And, god, does he.

It’s messy—sweaty, hot, sticky, and nothing near graceful.

Javier fucks like you expected he would—because, despite your best efforts, it had been a thought to cross your mind.

He ravishes, controls, demands. He’s insatiable and greedy, never enough. One orgasm, a second, a third before you’re begging, pleading for relief. He likes to work himself up—he gets you first with his fingers, then his mouth, eventually sliding the head of his cock against the seam of your soaked, oversensitive folds and catching against your entrance before he slides in with a deep, guttural groan.

But, he can’t have all the fun.

You eventually wrestle him into the cushions, on his back as he grips at your thighs, both of your hands clutched against the arm of the couch and the back, Javier entranced with you, his eyes showing as much amongst his needy, wandering hands. And he tries to hold off—he does, but his climax hits him with gusto, leaning up to levy the dominance between you both as he fucks up into you, his foot sliding to the ground to steady him, face buried in your chest as he comes inside of you, something you two hadn’t discussed beforehand and comes as an immediately apology from Javier, his cheek pressed against your breasts as you slump back into the couch, leaving Javier to catch his breath as he leaned against you.

“Don’t worry,” You assure him with a tired laugh, “I would have let you know if I wasn’t okay with it before you did it.”

Exhausted, Javier chuckles too.

It was the first of many late night meetings—some work, mostly play. Javier finds himself a little more emboldened as time goes on, interrogating you like a suspect after a long, eventful day.

“Javi,” You sigh, “your dick is still inside of me and you want to talk about work?”

Javier shrugs impishly from his position beneath you, sitting in his lap as he leaned against his headboard.

He leans forward, pressing a wet kiss against the column of your throat before his kisses trail, teeth dragging against your neck followed by another wet, sloppy kiss.

Well, now you were curious.

You grip his hair, a gentle tug to pull his head back to look at you, a profound glint in his eyes at the action.

Speak, you command silently.

“I’m just saying—if the FBI knew what you could do, they’d be killing each other to get to you,” He explains, “but you wanted to be a file clerk?”

“I like the ease of it,” You speak through the gentle caress of his hands over your ass, rocking your hips to a slow rhythm, “simple, uncomplicated—fuck, that,” You sigh, head falling into his waiting hand as he cradles your face, watching you through a half-lidded gaze as you start to succumb to the throes of pleasure, “feels so good—I just,” You blink through the haze, a little breathless as you speak, “working freelance, you know, off the books…it’s easier.”

“And risky,” He warns, “without protection—“

“Who said I wasn’t protected?” You smile, releasing your grip on his hair as he slowly flips you underneath him, pulling out briefly to adjust the duvet , kicking it down the bed as he slid into you, knees pulled high over his hips as he gripped the sheets beside your head, thrusting his hips at an impossible to focus pace.

“Be—besides,” You begin weakly and Javier offers a mocking laugh, low and full of pure adoration, even if he’d never admit it, “I’d get too pricey for you.”

“Oh, should I be paying you?”

You stop, a gawking look on your face as you steady him at his shoulders, pausing his movements, “Did you think fucking me was payment? Oh, bebé, no.”

Javier balks for a moment, in disbelief that his sexual expertise and suave looks suddenly weren’t as valuable as he thought.

“I’m fucking with you,” You tell him through gritted teeth, your hand curling around the back of his neck, eyes locked on his as you offered him a sultry smirk, a subtle twitch of your lips, “but, you do owe me.”

And he’d pay up, eventually.

—

Javier’s things start to take shape in your apartment without a word—a spare toothbrush for the nights he was too tired to leave, a spare set of clothes—maybe two. You also always had his favorite beer in your fridge and a spare pack of cigarettes sitting on top of your microwave. It was little touches, ignored and unaddressed but he was like a constant presence in your space.

You were more secluded, careful—but Javier didn’t mind.

He just gets comfortable, though you both had clear boundaries, a strict line that neither of you crossed.

Feelings, out of the question.

And honestly? Not a problem.

Javier was a good friend and even greater fuck, but he would make a terrible partner, you both knew it.

And you can feel that urge, he wants that effortless, full submission that he won’t explicitly ask for—it’s what he used to, women falling so easily to their knees and begging for him, it, whatever he had to offer.

But, you see both sides of his personality. He could be commanding and in full control of a situation, but also had a tendency to let his guard down…just a bit, enough for you to pry your way in and settle there.

It was two battling personalities, one you’ve learned to subdue with a valiant effort, meld yourself to any situation, whatever was required.

Javier follows you back that day, disregarding his own apartment for yours, in a constant fog of distraction all day. Between the news, the ramping up of Escobar’s antics, and the pressures of the higher ups weighing on his and many others shoulders, he just can’t seem to find a way to relax.

Even as you lay in bed, slung over him in your near nakedness, your white button up still covering your frame as he squeezes at the soft flesh of your hips, grinding you down against his cock, half-hard for the last fifteen minutes. He’s frustrated, evidently so.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, pulling away from your lips with closed eyes, rolling onto his back as he rubs his thumb and middle finger against his temples.

You’ve gotta pull his mind away, leaning up on your palms to follow him, raising your leg over his lap to straddle him.

He chuckles, reaching for his nearly empty pack of cigarettes, plucking one out lazily before he’s tossing the box aside, but you’re quickly snatching the cigarette away and tossing aside, pressing your hands against his chest with an expectant look.

“What the fuck?” He gawks, looking you up and down and toward the floor, watching you shrug in response.

He moves to push up, but you push back, the distribution of weight giving you the upper hand as he falls back against the sheets, “Alright, real funny.”

“Close your eyes,” You urge him gently, obvious skepticism on his face but eventually he succumbs, throwing his hands up in defeat as he closes his eyes, suspicious to the various shuffling noises as you lean to the side, digging in drawer of your bedside table until you find the item you’re looking for, a distinct clink of metal that Javier recognizes too late, the metal tightening around his wrists and tangled through the loop of the bed frame slats.

“The fuck are these—” He shakes his fists, pointless, “did you sneak my cuffs out of the office?”

You shake your head, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, a clear distraction that Javier tries to fight.

“They’re mine,” You tell him, simultaneously enjoying the slow rock of your hips as it seems to have found a somewhat solution to his issue, wiggling underneath you at the movements, almost urging you to quicken your pace, insistent.

Javier cocks his head in both a show of question and defiance, pressing for more.

“What?” You feign innocence, peeling the fabric over the last button as you lean forward, cradling his face with your hands as you give him a slow, explorative kiss, your tongue slipping into his open mouth, chasing you as you pull away, “Citizen’s arrests are just as legal here as they are in the states, Peńa.”

“So, this is an arrest,” He counters, licking at his lips, tugging once more at the chains.

“Do you want it to be?” You tease, hands pressed against your thighs now, finding amusement at his obvious frustration, knowing that he was completely helpless in this situation.

“Tell me you have the key.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden realization, “Oh, fuck—”

Panic rises, but you quickly quell his worries, “Just kidding,” You reply with a chipper tone, picking the key up from the table while dangling it in front of his face, “you want it?”

Javier nods, yanking against the cuffs weakly.

You contemplate, face scrunching up as you think.

“Are you sure?” You question, glancing down at the hard line of his cock defined in his jeans, rubbing your palm against the bulge in the denim, gently pulling at the button to pop them open, “I think you enjoy it.”

You place the key at the center of his bare chest, nodding toward it.

“Beg,” You tell him, voice steady and completely serious, the eerily void of emotion that has Javier thinking you might be joking, attempting to get a rise out of him, he laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” He says, but doesn’t explicitly ask.

Your eyebrows raise expectantly.

A battle of silence.

“Oh, I had that file I forgot the other day,” You switch topics, climbing off of him as you slip your unbuttoned shirt down your shoulders, revealing the bold colors and thin lace, material that hugged every curve of your body, a dark crimson red, sheer material leaving little to imagine—though, Javier had enough familiarity that he didn’t need to guess.

“Wait,” He interrupts, his hands balled into fists as you turn to him, one knee settling into the edge of the bed with the file in hand, looking at him….waiting, “come here,” He beckons, perking up as you toss the file aside and walk toward the head of the bed, fingers hovering over the key, “no—no,” He quickly interjects, “like—up here,” He explains vaguely, a weak attempt at asking you to sit on his face—he could come like that, he thinks. Eventually break you down enough. But, you remain ignorant to his demands, waiting for those specific words.

In the entirety of your midnight hook-ups with Javier he had never said please. It was a forbidden word in his vocabulary, far too confident and expectant, deserving to be knocked down a peg.

Besides, it was clearly working, the visible flush in his skin as you began to back away, his writhing against the sheets having shift his jeans further and further down his hips—never having been so thankful that Javier Peńa was a strict believer in going commando, silently helping the aid of his jeans down his legs with your bottom lip between your teeth, a predatory gaze and teasing touch at the inside of his thighs as you toss his jeans away, completely naked and at your control.

“Are you serious?” Javier asks, not an ounce of shyness when it came to his body, cock hard and leaking from the tip as he watched you turn, ignoring him as you grabbed the file and began to flip through, reading out the information as if he wasn’t even there, “Is this me owing you one?”

If there was one thing you knew about Javier, ignoring him was not the path to take.

Beg, your eyes demand.

Not a fuckin’ chance, his grimace retorts.

You twirl in the spinning desk chair, skimming silently through the papers now as Javier startle to unravel, eventually leaving you to get antsy, wandering around your room to fix the curtains, fold and tuck away a few loose pieces of clothing, only acknowledgement the small grunt he makes as you turn your backside to him, ass in the air as you picked up the discarded cigarette from earlier—he’s never needed one so bad in his entire life.

You reach for his lighter, placing it between your lips as you ignite the flame and press it to the end, awaiting the amber glow before you toss the lighter aside.

“You don’t even smoke,” He gripes, “You want me to say please? Is that it?”

You pull the cigarette from your lips and listen, approaching him so your stomach was at eye level, flicking the cigarette in the ashtray you had purchased specifically for him and cigarette after sex ritual, and he sighs, “Please,” It’s deadpan and lackluster at best, but you appreciate the effort, “baby, seriously.”

You shake your head in dismay, stubbing out the cigarette as Javier frowned.

“I’m helping,” You remind him, “I mean, I got your mind away from work, didn’t I?”

It was a slow but eventual realization that, yeah, you had. A hard task for even him.

You slowly climb over him on the mattress, dragging your hand along his chest and down his stomach, fingertips gazing against his pelvic bone, resting against his thigh.

“So, you’re going to beg,” You explain, leaning close enough to his lips that he can taste the remnants of smoke on your breath, “and I want you to, really, really mean it.”

He feels vulnerable, he is—but, he’s just desperate enough that he’ll let it slide.

For you.

He’s quiet for a stretch of time, watching as you toyed with the idea of touching his cock, watching it twitch with the slightest of touch, feeling like one tug would have him coming in your hand, a pathetic whine to follow. But, he focuses, lips parting as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, velvety soft skin as you caressed the girth of him, neatly trimmed hair at the base the peeked up toward his stomach, his tan skin almost glowing under the soft yellow light of the room, knowing you were throbbing just as bad as he was, feeling the needy pulse under your palm as you jerk your hand slow, from base to tip and back, rubbing your thumb over the slit at the head of his cock, so tantalizing you could take him in your mouth right now and take the load of him down your throat.

“Baby,” His voice relaxed but his body telling you otherwise, “Oh, fuck—you gotta go a little faster, tighter,” He directs, and you apply a minuscule amount of pressure to tease, “like that, like that,” he chants, his chest rising and falling as his brow furrowed, yanking roughly against the chain, your eyes catching at the movement. They were loose enough to avoid any discomfort, you were careful. It was mostly mind games, if Javier wanted out he could probably slip his hands through with enough concentration, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on you.

He’s getting closer, the staggered breaths and soft whimpers that were like melodies, desiring nothing more than to give into your own temptation and sink down onto his cock, riding him until he was mindless.

You let go, much to his dismay, “Fuck,” He groans, eyes peeling open to look at you, “you enjoy this, don’t you?”

“A little,” You shrug, giving him a fair chance out, “do you want me to stop?”

“Where does that leave me?”

What are the consequences, he means.

“I’ll uncuff you, we’ll get dressed. I give you your file and you go home.”

You reach for his face, rubbing your thumb along his bottom lip, the unavoidable twitch of his tongue as he instinctively licks, your own lips parting in desire, the enveloping heat of his both pulling the digit in.

“Or, you beg for it hard enough and I’ll let you fuck me.”

A real, authentic plea. That’s what you wanted. One derived from desperation and primal need.

You straddle his hips slowly, pulling at the tied bows at your hip keeping your underwear in place, pulling at the thin ribbon until they loosen and fall, balling up the fabric in one hand while you hook your hand in the strap of your bra, unfastening it with ease, tossing the garment aside completely.

You position your cunt along the shaft of his cock, silently tapping at his chin until he opens his mouth expectantly, shoving the discarded fabric of your panties into his mouth without a word, an obvious smirk on his face at the action as you try to stifle the short giggle at his eagerness to accept.

“I think you really underestimate me, Peña,” You taunt, canting your hips as it drags along his cock, coating it in the sticky slick that has gathered between your thighs at your own neediness, suffering in silence and wishing for him to break, nearly caving in yourself, “Stop being so fucking stubborn all the time.”

His eyes roll back as the bulbous head of his cock catches at your entrance, nearly slipping in at how easily you slide against him, raising his foot to the mattress in an attempt to do so, his remark muffled behind the fabric, that heady taste of you on his tongue.

He’d come if he wasn’t so frustrated, but he’s there—right fucking there, the pace of your grinding quickening as you grip the balled up fabric in his mouth, using it as leverage as his eyes squeeze shut, the familiar coiling in his gut that you recognize too, slowing down considerably as you rip the fabric from his mouth.

“Say it,” You demand, slightly breathless, “just say it, Javi.”

Fuck it, he can’t do this anymore.

“Please, bebé. Please,” He begs, “this is fucking torture.”

That was the tone you were looking for, the shakiness to his voice that oozed desperation.

You nod and he’s almost expectant that you’ll undo his cuffs and let him have his way with you, but that wasn’t the plan.

Instead, you sink down onto his cock without another word, a long drawn-out groan from Javier followed by your soft moan of satisfaction, riding him almost desperately, the sound of skin and against, the sticky heat and humidity of Colombia seeping through the open window of your apartments, you both nearly delirious with overdue release.

His lip is pulled tight between his teeth, eagerly trying to match your hurried, erratic bounce of your hips as you claw at his chest, marks he’d admire for days to follow.

“Be realistic, baby,” He moans, “even like this you know that pussy belongs to me,” Your eyes flick up, greeted by the raise of his brows, tongue peeking between his lips with confidence.

Even now, he still has the nerve.

“Yeah,” You agree, egging him on with that salacious, vexatious tone, “Does it?”

He admires the slick mess at the base of his cock, angling your hips to grind down against him, cursing at his inability to grab and touch, flip you over and coax you into your climax with a twitch of his thumb, an easy fix.

Javier, unfortunately, was not a man to be tamed.

He was yours, but he’s never been solely yours.

You were special, though. He knew that.

He just needed a refresher.

“Seems a little unfair,” You shrug, his impatience growing and evident, “don’t you think?”

Your finger drags up his chest, inch by inch until the full expanse of your palm encircles his throat, his chin lifting in silent permission.

“Say it,” You counter, “come on, Peña.”

He chuckles, the sly fucker.

“Tell me this cock belongs to me,” You whisper low, close to his ear as your teeth drag along his jaw, “—that no one can make you come like I do,” You squeeze at his throat, a weak noise falling from his lips as his eyes roll back, “ and how pathetic and needy you look when I let you come inside of me.”

You squeeze once more, gentle but demanding.

He squeaks quietly, yanking weakly at the chains, “It’s all yours, bebé—fuck, it’s—right there, it’s—”

“Beg,” You urge, his mouth parts, breathing increasing more rapidly as you echo yourself, his head nodding instinctively in a desperation for relief, “beg and you can come, Peña.”

He does, a plethora of please—baby, please falling from his lips as you slide off of him, allowing him to come untouched, watching his dick twitch wildly, come coating his stomach in thick spurts as he groans, throaty and wet, eventually falling slack on the bed beneath you as you undo the cuffs without a word, a soft whine releasing from his chest as he arms fall to his side.

It takes a while, several minutes, eyes closed with a gentle and repressive touch of your thumb against his forehead, brushing away a loose strand of his hair, waiting for the haze to wear off.

“How do you do that?” Javier asks, returning the touch as his hand wraps around your wrist.

“What?” You counter with a playful smile, his tired one spreading across his features.

“You’re like…some kind of bruja,” He jokes lightheartedly, “No one’s ever—I’ve never let someone take control like that.”

“You look really pitiful when you beg,” You tease, “it drives me insane.”

You soothe his ego with a kiss, leaning over him to reach for his pack of cigarettes, squealing as his arms pull you back, swatting the contents out of your hands, wrestling you back down into the sheets with ease, your own body fighting a similar exhaustion.

“I wasn’t wrong,” Javier remarks, “estás loca.”

He sinks between your legs without a word, reminding you that he wasn’t a man to be bested, fingers stuffed inside of you as he pumped with an expertise that came with familiarity, learning what made your body tick—Peña was goddamn expert.

He’d rendered you speechless, fingers gripping the sheets, wriggling and whining without a tangible thought on your mind, words lost.

“Pobrecita,” He mocks, “come on—use your words.”

You hum weakly, wistful but hard-headed, “Make me,”

Fortunately, like you, Peña was always up for a challenge.

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #my writing #DMAMC 2025

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jeonstudios · 3 months ago

Text

fontana di trevi | 02

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 9k

warnings: same as last time basically: blood, needles, suicidal thoughts and intentions

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/2

“Thanks,” you smile politely as you close the car door, hearing the Uber drive off behind you. The walk up to the house is no different than last time, yet it definitely feels different. Both because of what happened almost a week ago, but also since you’re hoping this will be the last time.

What certainly is different is the surprised look on the vampire’s face as he opens the door to see you standing there with your hands in the pockets of your winter coat.

He himself is wearing a black hoodie, and once again, black shorts. His hair looks a little messier than how you’re used to seeing it. Almost like he’s been sleeping. Vampires don’t sleep, though, do they?

“I… didn’t think you’d show,” he admits honestly, nonetheless opening the door wider for you, and as you enter, you can’t help but think that he looks… almost cuddly.

Of course, he still gives off the usual intimidating aura, and he should probably be even scarier to you considering what happened last time you met him, but… you don’t know. Perhaps you’re just so deprived of human touch that a bloodthirsty vampire’s cold embrace seems inviting.

This time, he waits in the hallway while you step out of your shoes and remove your coat.

“Yeah, I still want this. I just… wasn’t prepared,” you explain rather vaguely, knowing that he understands exactly what you’re getting at anyway. You want to die but on your terms.

“It wasn’t my intention. To do what I did.”

You meet his eyes. It’s not an outright apology, but it feels eerily close to one.

“You were there to… feed, weren’t you?”

He nods. “Didn’t get the chance to on Thursday or Friday.”

It’s your turn to nod in understanding. For a short moment, you stand there, looking at each other.

Until you break the silence. “So, can we start?”

“Sure,” he agrees, turning around to head toward the kitchen.

Like the first time you showed up to his house when he didn’t think you were going to, he has to bring the supplies from wherever he keeps them. You take your spot at the table, slip off your cardigan, and wait.

The vampire returns with his hands full, placing the stuff down on the table before he pulls out another chair and positions it the same way as always. But his focus lies on your skin.

“These are new bruises?” he asks, carefully grasping your hand and very gently lifting it to better inspect the yellowing marks covering your skin. “You always bruise like this after?”

You follow his gaze. There are currently three bruises on your right arm, none the same as the night he almost killed you. Two are yellow and from when you bumped into a dresser at home a few days ago. The third is purple but smaller and its origin a mystery. If he wanted to see bruises, he should’ve seen the ones on your legs after you fell when he attacked you.

“Not the first time, but yeah. Usually just from the needle site, but lately, it’s all over. I guess I’m a little deficient in something,” you joke quietly, but the vampire doesn't laugh.

“Why does it interest you so much? Do you have some kind of medical degree?” you ask, thinking back to when he first asked you why you didn’t wonder about his apparent knowledge.

“Not officially, but being dependent on humans like we are to some extent, you tend to pick up on stuff, and having been around as long as I have, it’s even more unavoidable. But I’ve never seen bruising this severe from blood loss.”

Fair enough. Your body should definitely try to keep the little blood remaining inside your veins, where it belongs.

He starts prepping your arm, but instead of looking away, you close your eyes. Are you imagining things or has he been… softer lately? Making sure you got home safely instead of leaving you to your fate, almost worrying about your bruises, and being gentler in the way he attaches the needle? Then again, he’s only making sure you can give him as much blood as possible, and he also would’ve probably killed you if he’d gotten ahold of you last week.

“I take it you’ve killed before?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, but then he answers, and there’s nothing hidden in his words or voice that reveals something more.

“I have.”

“How do you…,” you start, unsure of how to phrase your question. “I mean, what do you do… after?”

“Are you asking…?”

“How do you… dispose of them? And… I guess, how will you dispose of… me?”

It’s not really a sensitive question for you, so you’re not sure for whose sake you’re so careful. You doubt the vampire really cares.

You hear him exhale. “I guess it depends on the circumstances. I haven’t planned anything.”

You wince when he sticks you, more painful this time for some reason. The ball is placed in your hand like always, and you start to squeeze it.

Your curiosity isn’t that dire, so you’re not disappointed by his answer. Maybe he’s not even being honest, and it’s for your sake? Which brings you back to why he’s being extra gentle. The only other explanation you can think of is that he feels sorry for you. Maybe he just truly wants to spare you unnecessary pain and worry in the last moments of your pathetic life? Because this is it. With how shitty you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks and especially since last time, you know it won’t be long. Today’s the day.

One bag. He can take one bag and after that he’ll have to end it. That way, you don’t have to bleed out, and he’ll get as much blood as possible. If he takes your advice about how to drain the rest, well, that’s up to him.

You’re startled by the sound of knocking, opening your eyes to see the vampire rise from his chair, seemingly sharing your surprise. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, you close your eyes again, getting as comfortable as you can in the chair while wondering who’s at the door. A vampire friend? A vampire partner? Surely, he doesn’t hang out with humans on the regular? You always got the impression, both from him and vampires in pop culture, that they don’t really care for humans. In fact, a dirty human only pesters a vampire’s environment unless they’re actively dying.

Your heart hurts. It’s beating heavily inside your chest, a feeling you’ve grown somewhat used to over the weeks, but it feels undeniably worse. Like every beat is a painful and exhausting accomplishment. Your breaths grow heavier too.

Surely, it’s been more than a minute. Is he on his way back? If he were a human, chatting with another human at the front door, maybe you would’ve heard them, but you can’t discern anything.

It feels a little like your head’s in the clouds, and you’re not sure if your eyes are still closed or if they’re open and you just can’t see anything. You have a feeling that not only can’t you hear the vampire, you can’t hear anything anymore.

Realizing that this is it, you try to call for him quietly to tell him so, but although you’re pretty certain you’re dying, for some reason, you don’t want to interrupt whatever he’s doing with his visitor.

“Fine, alright, I’ll talk to him, but please, this is not a good time.”

“But he’s being an ass, and you were the last person he spoke to before he left for fucking Iceland.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at his friend, Yuqi. With how much she and Taehyung love each other, there’s a surprising amount of drama.

“I don’t wanna get involved. I’ll call him later.”

“Fine, get back to me after. If he doesn’t answer, I’m taking the first flight.”

“Vampire?”

Yuqi, who was just about to turn around to leave, stops in her tracks.

“What… was that?” she asks, standing still before discreetly scenting the air. “Is that… blood?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. He’s used to smelling blood whenever you’re there to leave it, but not this much. Quickly, and without regard to Yuqi, he turns to rush back into his kitchen, eyes going even wider at the vision in front of him.

“Vampire?” you call out quietly again from the chair, eyes closed and unknowing of his return. You seem out of it, bordering on unconscious, and it’s not without reason. Jeongguk curses himself for not double checking the blood bag when he knows that brand is prone to ripping because the bag isn’t full; it’s broken, and your blood is dripping into a big puddle of red on the floor.

You think… you’re being… carried? By someone firm and… warm. You like that.

“I’m not warm," a low voice comments. "At least I’m not supposed to be.”

“I’m dying… right?” you mumble, feeling how the vampire puts you down on something soft.

“Probably, yeah.”

He does something to your arms, and you can’t figure out what, but you realize it has something to do with collecting the remaining blood when you’re gone.

There’s another voice.

Next time you open your eyes, you feel… different. And upset. You’re not as dizzy as you’ve become accustomed to, and the room doesn’t spin when you sit up on the bed. Your body hurts, but it feels more like you’re simply tired and beat than extremely weak. Most importantly, you feel, which means you’re not dead.

As if he could sense your awakening—or just possesses superhuman hearing—a door opens to reveal the vampire. He's wearing other clothes, grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his face doesn't give you anything.

“What happened?” you question, looking around the room that’s clearly a bedroom. “And where am I?”

“You passed out. There was a hole in the bag, so the blood was just leaking onto the floor. I had my friend steal some from the hospital, and I gave you a transfusion. Yuqi also brought some clothes and stuff for you, so you’re staying here at least until tomorrow. Then you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

“I… don’t understand. Why would you—why not just let me go then?”

“I changed my mind.”

You look at him, bewildered and trying to find the words. “What do you mean you changed your mind? We had an agreement?”

“I know, but I changed my mind. I’m not doing it. If the blood matters to you, the bags are in the freezer.”

“Why–what would I do with blood?” you question in frustration. Is he offering it back in case you want to drink it? Try to put it back inside your veins? Apparently, you’ve already had transfusions, so you have exactly zero use for frozen bags of blood. “Why can’t you just get on with it? Why not let me die?”

“I do not. Want. To,” he hisses.

You stare at him in silence, feeling confused and betrayed. He looks away but doesn't seem affected. No shame, no regret, no anything but a moment of frustration to breach otherwise calm determination.

“Here’s the stuff,” he gestures toward a duffel bag by the foot of the bed. “You have a bathroom right outside, and I’m gonna order some food for you. You should take it easy; I wasn’t able to give you as much blood as you really need, and unfortunately, what I’ve previously collected isn’t fit to give back. Since it’s been frozen and stored improperly for that kind of purpose, there would be a risk of clotting.”

You look at him from where you’re sitting on his bed, and he looks back at you. The irritation you feel grows beyond what you’re capable of conveying, and so it turns into defeat. It makes you angry, how he managed to back out of giving you what you wanted at the very last second. You spent months upholding your end of the deal, and when it finally came time for him to do the same, he didn’t.

“Don’t bother,” you lie down slowly, your back facing him where he stands at the door. Silently, you curse your body for feeling so tired; ideally, you’d stomp out of there, slamming the door behind you. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Your own clothes are still wearable. The few stains of blood are relatively small and dried, and the vampire already placed you on his bed, so you don’t feel like you’ll do any more damage by sleeping in them. The house is quiet, but you don’t think he’s left it, which begs the question of where he is. And also if he sleeps and if he does, then… where? He never gave you a tour or anything, so you have no idea what the rest of his house looks like. Whatever; you don’t care, anyway.

His sheets smell clean, though, and it doesn’t take you long to pass out, truly exhausted.

When you wake up, you can’t find your phone, and without any other time measuring device, you don’t know what time it is. It appears like the sun rose not too long ago so that narrows your guess a little bit at least.

Sitting up slowly, you take a deep breath. You feel… okay. A bit sore almost, but more energetic than you have in a while. Unfortunately, it’s not necessarily a good thing in your book.

Sighing, you put your feet to the hardwood floor. They carry you with only a little dizziness, and you set your sight on the bedroom door. It opens smoothly, and you peer out, looking for the bathroom the vampire mentioned. There’s a door immediately to your left which you guess must be it, and so you head toward it.

After successfully finding the bathroom and using it, you decide to continue the search for your phone. Since you thought last night would be your last and therefore arrived by Uber rather than driving, it means that without your phone, you have no way home.

You make your way down some stairs, recognizing the hallway as the one the vampire has led you through what feels like countless times. Last time you remember having your phone was in the kitchen, so that’s where you steer your steps.

As luck would have it, the kitchen is also where the vampire happens to be. Upon your entrance, your eyes immediately fall on the tall man where he stands, leaning back against the counter. Although he surely heard you approaching a long time ago, he only turns his head slowly toward you when you’re well into the room. He’s hard to read; doesn’t offer much.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

The vampire twists his body to look at the counter behind him, sliding something toward you. You take a step closer, inspecting the device when it’s in your hands. Three percent.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod and pushes off the counter, leaving the kitchen. You wait, quietly wondering what exactly goes on inside his head. He seems unfazed by the whole ordeal, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. But what you still don’t quite understand is why he claimed to have changed his mind. Could it be that he just didn’t want to deal with your body?

The vampire returns with a white charger in his hand, his skin cold against yours when you accept it from him. Finding a fitting outlet near the table, you plug the charger in and sit down, gazing out through the window while you wait for the phone to charge enough for the trip home. The vampire has gone back to leaning wordlessly against the counter, and you ignore him.

Opening your phone, you find that the only unread notification you have is a spam email. Why are you surprised? With a small sigh, you lock the device again, hoping it’ll charge faster if you don’t use it. Forty percent should be enough.

It’s snowing outside, and you watch the big snowflakes fall slowly and silently to the already white ground. Waiting like this gives you time to go over all the things you’ve done wrong in your life.

Next time you unlock your phone, the battery has reached thirty-seven percent. You open the Uber app to see that a car can arrive in ten minutes. You confirm it, noting the time as eleven twenty-three. You’ll wait five more minutes before you start getting ready, which honestly is just putting your shoes and coat on.

The seconds pass slowly one after the other. You wonder briefly how long it took the vampire to clean because, although you didn’t notice the blood dripping to the floor while it was happening, you understood that there was a lot of it. Must suck for him to have it wasted like that. The question is also why he would waste even more blood by giving you a transfusion? If he went through the pain of acquiring bagged blood, why not just drink that?

At eleven twenty-nine, your phone’s battery is at fifty-two percent. You unplug the charger from the wall, and as you stand, you place it on the table with a quiet ‘thanks.’

“Going home?” the vampire wonders, black eyes watching you. He looks casual, but there’s that hint of softness shining through again.

You pass him on your way to the front door. “Yeah.”

“Reconsider,” he encourages, and you know he’s not talking about your journey home.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Yes,” he follows. “Whatever’s troubling you doesn’t matter. There’s so much for you to see and do, so many places to visit and people to meet. Your life is so incredibly short, and you won’t have time to see even a fraction of the world as is.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you say, bending down to put your boots on.

“Have you even been outside of this town?”

Why is he trying to control you? He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t care. It’s not like you’ll magically be fine after his ‘cheer up, pal,’ and ending your life is not a decision you have taken hastily or easily.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

“Of course. But it’s not…” you straighten up to look at him, frustration dripping from your words. “Don’t you see that I’m all alone? I don’t have anybody, no one to experience things with, and much less the money to just up and leave. Sure, maybe I could get a loan and travel through Italy for two weeks, but then what? I’ll be miserable and in debt.”

The vampire tilts his head, looking at you with his black eyes but not saying anything. He just doesn't understand. You put your other foot into your boot and reach for your coat before he can try to persuade you again for whatever reason.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “I’ll be going.”

He doesn’t stop you from opening the door, and he doesn’t follow you when you leave, one boot undone and with your coat held to your chest. Irritation turns to sadness and defeat as you wait for the Uber to arrive, taking the opportunity to actually put your coat on and tie your laces properly. Snow falls around you, and when you're done, you stand there, waiting pathetically by the side of the road in the cold. You’re back at square one.

Despite having slept for countless hours at the vampire’s house, you head straight for your bed the moment you return home. For another few hours, you sleep, and then you spend a few more lying there in the dark, thinking.

It’s seven p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve wasted a lot of time, months even, waiting for the vampire to get what he wanted and follow through on his part. But that’s over now, so what are you waiting for right now?

Two and a half hours later, you put your boots back on and throw a lighter jacket over your shoulders, one that allows easier access to your neck.

Still not feeling your best, it takes you fifteen minutes to walk what the vampire did in six, carrying you on his back. You don’t understand him. He acted like he didn’t want you to die, but if he cared about you at all, he would’ve backed out earlier and not waited until his actions brought you within an inch of your life for what, the third time? Was he hoping you’d stay alive so that you’d hopefully continue donating your blood, even if less frequently?

Although nearing his feeding grounds, you’re hoping not to run into him. He did state that he changed his feeding days to Thursdays, and last week, when you did run into him, it seemed like a coincidence. Besides, this place is your best bet tonight; even the vampire admitted that there were others there last time. Surely, they’re around here somewhere tonight as well.

Since you assume vampires don’t want unnecessary attention, you stake out near the same club as last week, but this time, you hide in the shadows around a corner. Then, you wait for a victim.

Thirty minutes to midnight, a woman stumbles out through the door, a bouncer holding it open for her. She’s obviously had a bit to drink, and as she clumsily fixes her little cross body bag and sets off along the street, you look around from your hiding spot.

But you don’t see or hear anything; not a dark figure moving nor the sound of footsteps. Still, you follow her, hoping for the best. Wanting to keep your distance, you instead find it hard to keep up with her, which is saying something about your current health.

About two hundred meters from the club, she suddenly slows down, her attention seemingly drawn to something in an alleyway. You weren’t sure exactly how the vampires hunt, but by how the woman begins to slowly drift inside the dark alleyway of her own accord, you guess they do have some kind of pull. Most women, even when slightly drunk, typically try not to do… that.

You quicken your steps as much as possible without breaking into a sprint. Not only do you want to speak to a vampire; if you can take that woman’s place and leave her unscathed, it’s an added bonus. Before you’ve caught up, the woman slowly and quietly disappears, and when you turn the corner with your phone in hand and flashlight turned on, you spot a man holding her to his body.

Evidently hearing you approaching, the man has placed them against the wall, halfway obscured by a dumpster and hoping you’d walk past them, which you would have if you weren’t so focused on the woman and your mission.

The man squints in the light, and you very clearly discern long fangs. You take another step into the alleyway, but what you didn’t expect was to be grabbed from another direction.

Gasping, you feel strong arms hold your back against someone’s chest, effortlessly keeping you immobile.

“What can we offer? Though you smell like vampire already?” The man who holds you says, sounding surprised, and your phone is taken from your hand and the flashlight turned off.

Obviously, they assume you’re one of the freaky ones looking for vampires because any normal person would run. Your reason for wanting to find one is different, though.

“I have a proposition,” you stutter, not too scared but uncomfortable with how the man noses at your neck. Despite knowing that if the vampire bites, it’ll most likely be your neck, you can’t help trying to pull away. It’s just another bodily reaction.

Your words intrigue him, and he moves, creating just a tad bit more space between your bodies and looking down at you with a curious smirk.

“A proposition, you say?”

“You can have my blood—all of it—if you take it right here and now.”

“What’s the catch?” he asks, raising an eyebrow much like a certain vampire you know. “What’s in it for you?”

“There is no catch. I want to die.”

The other vampire, curiously listening to your conversation, whispers something in the other woman’s ear, and lets her go. She stumbles away from him and then casually leaves the alleyway, turning the corner calmly as if nothing happened.

You meet the vampire’s puzzled yet curious eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my blood if you think I’m trying to trick you into something. Except that it’s apparently B positive which I understand is not that desirable, but—”

“You’re Jeon’s human?”

“Uh—what? Who?” you ask, confused but slowly putting two and two together.

“Fuck, should we?” the other vampire questions quietly.

“Jeon,” the closest one to you starts, “is the vampire you smell of. He’s been very persistent no one touches his human.”

“Yeah. Can’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to have someone offer to be a walking blood bag, I wouldn’t let them outside at all.”

“I’m not… I’m not anyone’s, and I’m not a walking blood bag,” you explain, feeling belittled. “He made me a promise that he broke. He was going to help me die in exchange for my blood, but he just used me to collect blood, and then he didn’t deliver.”

The two vampires look at each other, and you feel like they didn’t really pay attention to anything you just said.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I wanna get on his bad side.”

“But he’s too arrogant,” the first one complains. “If I want something, why should he prevent me from getting it? He doesn’t own the supply here. I’m a thousand years old; I shouldn’t need to ask for permission.”

“Dude’s like three thousand years old, though? You don’t need to ask permission; you can literally choose anyone. Except this one, for some reason. I don’t think I would if I were you.”

“Our agreement is over,” you try to enter the conversation the two vampires are holding over your head.

“Well,” the one holding your arms peers down at you, “He said that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to touch you.”

You scoff, growing irritated again, “Okay, well, are there any vampires around that aren’t such wimps? If I can’t find anyone to just snap my neck, I’m going to the train tracks and then my blood will be wasted.”

That’s a lie, of course. There’s a reason you picked death by vampire; you’re too scared to do it any other way, and no matter how much you want to die, you can’t subject anyone else—like a poor train driver—to it. Vampires are cold and heartless. They don’t care.

“Hold on. Wait,” the vampire holds you tighter when you haphazardly try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look,” he says to the other, “He can’t tell us what to do. Besides, if he gets angry, we can just say that she said their agreement was over, and we did her a favor out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You don’t have a heart; you just want to annoy him.”

The vampire grins. At first, it’s a boyish smile directed at his friend, but when he slowly tilts his head down to look at you, it turns almost sinister. “I think I’m gonna do it.”

You gulp. No matter how much this is what you want, it does scare you. Mostly because you’re afraid it will be painful.

“Is there a way you can kill me first? I don’t want it to hurt.”

The smiling vampire shakes his head.

“No.”

You thought death was supposed to be a void. A void of darkness, devoid of physical matter, emotions, and thoughts. But it hurts. It hurts so much.

Then, a void does take over.

Jeongguk knew you’d try again. If he wouldn’t kill you, you were going to find someone who would. And despite hoping that you would’ve changed your mind, he was unfortunately right. He spent an hour roaming the dark streets around the town’s attempt at a nightlife, but he didn’t come across you. Not until he visits the same place where you first found him, a place he wouldn’t take as your first choice since you ran into him there a week earlier.

He’s spent hours and hours these last weeks with you on his mind; the little human who wants to die so badly. It’s just something about you and your willingness to die that doesn’t sit right with him, and you won’t leave his thoughts. It’s not his business, he told himself as he saw you curled up and unconscious in your car. Who is he to tell someone what they should do with their life? If anything, respecting your wishes and consuming freely donated blood is easier and more ethical than taking it from plastered people who aren’t really sure what’s going on, right?

The scenes replaying the most in his head are more recent. It’s the way you suggested he kill and butcher your body, saying no one would look for you anyway, and how you called for him, unknowing that your blood was dripping to the floor but still trying your hardest to squeeze that ball for him. Your fingers were barely moving, but you tried since he wanted that blood.

He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, trying to convince you to live, but he guesses that he simply needs to know that you experienced some good things in life too. He can’t let you end it this way, as a lifeless body, discarded somewhere where no one will find you.

Anger, frustration, and an odd feeling of helplessness flood him as he takes in the sight of the vampire in the process of draining you dry. He rushes into the dark alleyway, the vampire looking up from your neck just as Jeongguk strikes. There’s not much of a fight after that. The first vampire stumbles backward, and Jeongguk grabs your lifeless body from him as the second vampire approaches, eyes wide and with his hands raised shoulder height.

“Easy, man.”

“I fucking told you to leave her alone.”

The dazed vampire grumbles something, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay him any attention. He places your body down on the snow-covered ground and looks at your pale face while searching for a pulse right under your jaw.

“She wanted to die.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongguk growls. “How much did you take?”

There is no pulse.

“At least three fourths. Possibly more.”

Jeongguk shuts his eyes. There’s no coming back from that.

You’ve lost and regained consciousness due to blood loss one too many times by now, but this time, it really feels different. Opening your eyes, the sunlight filling the room irritates your eyes, forcing you to squint for a few seconds.

Without moving, you focus on something. The vampire. Jeon, was it? You watch as he rummages through his closet, practically soundlessly, taking out a few items and looking them over before settling on what looks like two black shirts, one long-sleeve and one short-sleeve. Then he digs out a pair of shorts and another pair of sweatpants.

You’re not used to seeing him in direct sunlight, but now, the rays filtering through the half-opened blinds paint him in a new light, and you let your eyes linger on his arms as he folds the clothes. The green t-shirt he wears is doing a great job at highlighting his veiny, muscular forearms as they work. Light and shadows play along those very defined muscles, accentuating them further.

Your first impression of him was a cold one, one that slowly warmed a little over time both physically and mentally. But in this light? Without even touching him, he looks… warmer to you. Inviting, almost like when he wore that black hoodie.

You sigh quietly and pull the blanket that’s thrown over you closer. The vampire hears and turns around, placing the clothes at the foot of his large bed.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider his question. Though you’ve certainly felt better in a lot of ways, you don’t feel the way you’ve come to associate with severe blood loss.

“Cold. And tired, but in a weird way.”

Weird is probably the best way to describe how you’re feeling in general. You feel light, but not weak. Tired, but not sleepy.

He nods understandingly, “It’ll pass.”

You catch his gaze, holding it for a quiet moment. “You changed me, didn’t you?”

It’s the only explanation you can come up with. That vampire was hungry, and you remember slowly losing control in his grasp, both over your body and consciousness. With how many near-death experiences your body has endured in the last weeks—all blood loss related—there just wasn’t any chance you’d survive another draining.

“Yeah.” He looks away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t…”

You think you understand well enough what he’s trying to say, although you’re not too sure of his reasons or how to feel about it. He couldn’t let you die. In a way, you’re disappointed because you were finally getting what you wanted, and dying has proved itself to be surprisingly difficult for you.

But you’re not angry; not like you were after the vampire saved you the first time. He mentioned once that not even vampires are immortal, so at least you know that you’re not doomed to an eternal life in suffering; you can always try again if you want. However, you’d be back at square one when it comes to options, but you don’t really feel the urgency anymore. At least not at the moment.

He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes with his deep, dark ones. “Let me show the world to you.”

Surprised to say the least, you mumble a quiet “What?”

He angles his body further toward you, and you see that despite the softer look on his face, he’s certain. “I want to show you everything the world has to offer. All the good things; the magical places and people.”

Not sure what to say, you just stare at him.

“Vampires are not immortal,” he continues. “If you really don’t want this, I’ll help you die. I promised. But please, think about it. No catch, no expectations.”

“But why… Why would you want that?”

You’ve been alone for so long, unable to keep people around and interested, so why would this being be?

“Because I found that I really didn’t enjoy draining you of your life, especially when you were already so low to begin with. I want you to get the chance to experience the good things life has to offer, and I can’t help but want to be around when you do.”

“You don’t know me though.”

“I kinda want to,” he says, standing up with the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Think about it, okay? I’m not expecting anything from you other than that you consider.”

Still very much processing his words, you feel a cold shiver wreck your body, something the vampire notices.

“I’ll get you another blanket. Your body is still in the process of changing, and with that comes a decrease in temperature. It’s normal to feel cold.”

He’s about to leave when you call for him.

“Wait. What… What's your name? Your given name?”

He stops, and he smiles again. “Jeongguk. And I know yours already; it was on your door.”

You sleep for a little while longer, but when you start to feel better, you also start to think. You’ve been so certain for so long, and you still are—you think—but… either way, you’d like some answers; a clearer view of the whole picture.

“Jeongguk?” you call, unsure how loud you need to be. It feels strange to use a name for the vampire.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens. “Yeah?”

“I have some… questions.”

He nods, stepping into the darkness that is his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“Light sensitive?” he nods toward the window, where you’ve pulled the curtains closed over the blinds.

“Yeah… Is that normal?”

“It is. So is feeling sensitive to sound, touch, smell; basically all the senses. But it will pass pretty quickly.”

“Okay. Well, can you… tell me everything about being a vampire? I didn’t think you slept, but you do? Or why do I still sleep?”

He rounds the bed to sit next to you, and you feel it sink as he gets comfortable. Slowly, you turn to face him, watching him lean back against the headboard.

“So, basically, we can do all the things humans do. For instance, you’re still programmed to breathe, but it’s more of a habit and a way to smell than a means of survival.”

While he speaks, you try it. It’s strange, holding your breath and not feeling that strong, strong urge to take in air after a while.

“You can eat human food, but it’s not what sustains you, so most vampires don’t. It gets kinda boring after a while; you’ll see what I mean. Most also don’t sleep as they consider it a waste of time, but you can if you want to. I do pretty regularly. I find it… peaceful, and when you get older, it can be nice, getting a break between days.”

Hearing him talk so casually and almost… softly has you smiling slightly, unable to help it. So he had been sleeping when you knocked on the door, and his hair was all messy, and he looked so cuddly? You don’t know why, but you like that thought.

“You can exist in sunlight, you can consume garlic. Mirrors work for us as well. We don’t age like humans, but we can die if we’re pierced through the heart by something wooden—”

“—You mean staked?”

He looks at your wide, amused eyes and rolls his. “Yeah. Staked. Anyway, you’ll notice that your senses are heightened, and you’ll become stronger too. Not stronger than me, though,” he grins. “As for the blood, you can survive on any.”

“Any?”

What does he mean by that? Human and animal?

“Human, animal, vampire,” he says, the last one surprising you.

You blink, taken aback. “Vampires drink from other vampires?”

“We can. It’s not as common as feeding on humans as it’s mostly… a pretty intimate thing to do.”

“Oh, okay.”

Thinking about it, you guess you can see why. Having someone so close, feeding on you without the power imbalance of prey versus predator that feeding on humans entails, must feel… intimate. More of a give and take.

“You’ll need to feed in about a day or two, so you can choose. I have more human blood than just yours as it might be weird to drink your own blood, and I can get animal blood if that feels easier. Or… if you want to, you can drink from me.”

You look at him questioningly. “Didn’t you just say that it’s an intimate thing?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but if it would make for an easier transition for you, I don’t mind. I’ve taken a lot of blood from you, after all.”

“Okay,” you nod, briefly biting your lip. “I’ll think about it. About all of… this.”

Is death the thing you wanted above all else, or was it to get out of the life you were living? Now that your old life is, in a way, over, you’re not sure. Regardless, there are other worries still plaguing you. You look—almost stare—at his pretty face.

“What?”

You bite your lip nervously again. “What if you change your mind? I’m assuming this was quite a rushed decision on your part. What if I don’t live up to your expectations? I barely knew how to navigate this world as a human, there’s no way I could… manage on my own as… as a vampire.”

Say you decide to give it a shot; what do you do if he grows tired of you?

“Changing someone is not something we take lightly. We don’t…” he looks around, seemingly searching for the right words. “We don’t change anyone if we’re not prepared to guide them, at least through the first years. Usually, vampires only end up turning their romantic partners, so for most, it means staying together for life. Regardless, it’s a big decision.”

Noticing your wide eyes, Jeongguk smiles and chuckles. “I’m not saying you have to hang around me for the rest of your life, and I won’t ask you to play my wife or anything, but I won’t abandon you.”

It’s surprising enough to hear that vampires not only regularly fall in love with humans but take changing someone so seriously. But you’re even more surprised to hear him use the word ‘wife.’

“Your wife?” you ask, truly bewildered that word was even in his thoughts. “You said vampirism doesn't make you much prettier?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It doesn’t. But you didn’t need to become prettier anyway.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m telling the truth? Don’t you remember what I told you when I carried you home that night?”

‘You’re a pretty girl, you know?’

Of course you remember, but it doesn’t mean it was true.

You roll your eyes. “You were feeling bad for me.”

“Hm,” Jeongguk looks away, thinking. “Okay, do you remember the very first thing I said to you?”

“That you weren’t going to turn me?”

“For sex, yeah. But I said I’d still fuck you.”

The smile he gives you reminds you more of the vampire that took your blood once every fortnight than the one who saved you. You don’t know what to say, and he seems to realize that, his smile turning softer.

“Like I said, I would’ve fucked you because you were pretty even as a human. Also, about luring said humans in? You will not have a problem with that if that’s something you’re interested in. I kinda want to see you do that, actually,” he grins, sending a shiver down your spine. “Hot.”

Jeongguk is sitting spread out on the rented apartment’s low couch, reading the back of a bottle of red wine when you pass him. It’s hot—a lot warmer than what you’re used to from your little hometown—and you sigh as you open the door to the balconet wider and fresh air starts to play with your dress. The weather doesn’t affect you like it used to, but some aspects are still more enjoyable than others.

“I think I like Rome,” you place your hands on the railing, looking down at the scene two stories below you. It’s just after ten p.m., and people are dining outside the restaurant below you, their happy chatter accompanied by the romantic sound of street musicians. The air is humid, and besides the moonlight, the street is mainly illuminated by lights from the restaurant and surrounding shops.

You hear Jeongguk put the bottle down on the glass coffee table and stand up, something your human ears wouldn’t have picked up.

“We can stay longer if you want,” he offers quietly from right behind you.

Turning around, you let your gaze travel over his white dress shirt, held together by two single buttons—the rest lazily unbuttoned—and exposing most of his drool-worthy chest. He smirks, looking down at you, and you’re hit by how he hasn’t changed that much since you first met him in that alley. You’ve just gotten to see more sides of him.

You hold your breath, carefully reaching your hand out to pinch the fabric of his shirt between your thumb and index finger, pulling a little on it and nodding.

“Then we’ll stay,” he smiles, slowly stepping back and taking your hand softly in his. His skin feels warm against yours, and it’s almost like some sort of electric current courses through you. You grin as he pulls you toward him, moving to the slow and sensual music drifting up from outside.

Jeongguk lifts your hand above your head and twirls you. It makes you smile even wider, and you decide to place your arms loosely around his neck. He doesn’t object, just looks down at you, still smiling.

One thing you'll never get used to is how handsome he is. Soft, black hair parted across his forehead, dark eyebrows and eyes, and a dimple that pops out when he smiles. One day, you’ll kiss his nose, you promise yourself. He looks so carefree, peering down at you like nothing else really matters; a mindset not too difficult to follow with him.

“How come everything is so… easy?”

He tilts his head, trying to make sense of your words as he places his hands on your waist. “Well… do you feel cared for?”

You think about it. All the new people—vampires—you’ve met so far are very funny and kind. They see you, and they listen to you. Especially Jeongguk’s friends, and even more so, Jeongguk. He’s easy to be around, and he’s been incredibly sweet to you, understanding that you’re going through a big change and that your previous life wasn’t all that great.

So you nod.

“Do you have anything that worries you?” He continues. “A looming anxiety regarding something?”

“No.” Turns out that Jeongguk and all his friends are filthy rich and also very generous, which means that you have no rent to pay, no stuff to buy, or bills to pay. Nor do you have people to impress or time-sensitive achievements to stress over.

Jeongguk’s smile turns extra cheeky. “Do you perhaps… also care a little bit for someone?”

You’d blush if that was something you could do. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

He chuckles before he turns a little more serious. “Jokes aside, there could be many reasons. Like I said, not feeling lonely or overly anxious surely helps a lot, but also stuff like… the change of scenery and seasons. But also…”

“Also…?”

He looks at you with a searching gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Tell me, did you ever see someone about how you felt?”

You shake your head.

“So you never got a diagnosis or medication?”

“No.”

“Then, maybe… you weren’t ‘only’ sad, and vampirism corrected some chemical imbalance in your brain. It could also explain why things are easier.”

Maybe. You thought that your mother dying was the catalyst for your sadness, and without seeing the point of the world, you got “weirder,” and the few people in your life withdrew. Then it was just you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t connect with people anymore. But maybe, like he said, it wasn’t ‘only’ feelings. A small part of you wishes you would’ve tried to get help, but a bigger part—although sad for the years you spent suffering—thinks this ending might be better.

He continues to sway your bodies, and you rest your head against his chest. When you left with him three months ago, one month after he changed you, you weren’t entirely certain where things would lead, because despite definitely feeling attracted to him, you didn’t really know him. But as the days pass, you don’t regret it, and you’re pretty sure you’re more than halfway to head over heels. You can’t deny that he gives you butterflies.

Sighing, you catch the scent of his naked skin against your cheek, reminded of something.

“You smell good. I remember thinking that you didn’t smell like anything?”

He laughs as you move your face slowly over his chest and up to his neck, smelling him.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing him in and closing your eyes. There’s the same notes of laundry detergent, soap, and cologne, but also something unique to him. He doesn’t smell like a human, but… almost. It draws you in, that’s for certain.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders quietly.

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. It’s turned out to be harder to tell than you imagined.

“Well, if you want it… go for it.”

“Like this?” you ask, pushing on his chest with a smile. He lets you walk him slowly back toward the couch, and when the back of his knees hit the edge, he sinks down onto it.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

High on the vampire equivalent of adrenaline, you straddle his lap, only to be caught off guard by his scent again. “No, but really, you smell so good.”

He chuckles. “Vampires who are more… compatible tend to smell good to each other.”

His revelation has you sitting back, curious but almost a little worried. Despite the details of your relationship being... a bit unclear—mostly due to his unwillingness to pressure you, you think—you can't help but want him to like you. “Does that mean that I smell good to you as well then? I mean, I remember that you didn’t like my blood?”

“You smell incredible to me. Almost addictive,” he reveals quietly, softly, resting his hands on your thighs, and you think your human heart would’ve raced. “And about your blood… I lied.”

Though grinning happily, there’s at least a trace of regret in his eyes.

“You lied? About not liking my blood?”

“Yeah. B is actually one of the more highly regarded blood types. I’m also B, but negative.”

You shake your head at him before carefully leaning in. With a soft touch of your lips, you locate the pulsating artery in his neck, gently angling his head away with your hands. Then, as you’ve done regularly for the last months, you pierce his skin with your fangs.

“I’m kinda surprised you still believed I didn’t like your blood,” he continues, though it sounds a little strained, like he’s trying to keep still. “If I didn’t like your blood, I wouldn’t have needed to change my feeding days to the day before you came. Nor would I have tried to attack you.”

You listen to his words, but you’ll have to process them better later because his blood is pretty much the only thing on your mind. His blood and his body. It took you a few times to get over the mental association with blood and drinking it, but now, it’s not something bad. It tastes and feels good, energizing you in a way food just doesn’t anymore. And it’s a chance to bond, making you feel closer to him.

He likes it too, if his body language is anything to go by. You know he tries to stay still to give you the best chance to get what you need without distractions, but the little… almost purring sound that reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest is hard to miss. As is the way his hips shift almost unnoticeably, but you haven’t spoken about that.

Being smaller and recently changed, you don’t require nearly as much blood as he does, and as soon as you feel the urge filled, you run your tongue over the wound to close it, just like he’s taught you to.

“Good?” he asks when you pull back, and you nod, licking your lips.

You keep your eyes on his skin, knowing that it only takes a second for the wound to heal but up to two weeks for the scar from another vampire's teeth to fade to nothing.

“All of the vampires we’ve met, they’ve looked so… amused when they understand I drink from you. Why is that? I get that it’s ‘intimate’ but they were pretty much all couples, weren’t they? Not that we’re… you know…”

You haven’t spoken about that, either, really.

It confused you, more so since you last week stumbled across a local couple smiling very cheekily when they saw the scar on Jeongguk’s neck that he’d made absolutely no effort to conceal.

He laughs. “It’s because only I have marks.”

You look puzzled. Yeah, sure, but you don’t understand why that would be amusing.

He looks at your confused face and continues. “The fact that you drink from me but not I from you usually means that I’ve submitted to you. That I belong to you. Which is not very common when I’m so much older than you. It’s usually the other way around if anything.”

“Oh,” you exclaim quietly, lifting your hand to your neck. “Should I…? Do you… want to feed from me? Cause I’m not sure that I…”

You don’t like the idea of losing blood. You know that Jeongguk has said that as a vampire, you quite literally can’t run out, but you don’t like it. Thinking about someone biting your neck has images from the night you died flashing before your eyes. You don’t remember much, but you remember being scared and how much it hurt. Surely, it would be different to let him bite you, but… you don’t know. You can’t help but feel like maybe you should? Don’t you kind of owe it to him?

“I want to, of course I do, but not that badly. I get that it’s an uncomfortable concept for you, so that’s why I haven’t brought it up. If you ever feel comfortable enough, we can try, because it’s very hot, but otherwise, it doesn’t matter.”

You lower your hand, smiling carefully down at him. He runs his hands over your thighs softly.

“So, you’re really just… ancient?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah? You’re literally older than Jesus?”

He rolls his eyes, still smiling.

“Jokes aside, doesn’t it get boring? You were kinda grumpy when I first met you.”

“Truth be told, it does. I’ve seen everything, mostly even many times over. But getting to see everything with you is like getting to experience it for the first time all over again.”

“That’s kinda… cheesy,” you chuckle, but you can’t deny that it makes you feel warm inside. “Yuqi said you probably needed a change of scenery as well.”

“So what if it’s cheesy? It’s true," he grins, and it's your turn to roll your eyes. "And, yeah, she might’ve been right. I guess vampires get lonely too sometimes.”

Although he's still smiling, you can't help but hurt a little, thinking about him feeling lonely too.

“So then, what’s next?" you ask. "When do we leave for Portugal?”

“Depends on when you want to. I’ll just tell Taehyung we’ll meet them later. As for now, you know Fontana di Trevi?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna take a dip?”

“What? Isn’t it pretty shallow? And probably… illegal?”

“What are they gonna do? Stop us?” He smiles a wide, happy smile, his white fangs almost glimmering in the romantically dimmed light.

<previous | next> author's note: i hope you liked it!! please reblog if you did <3<3<3

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azlrse · 8 months ago

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Cuddle headcannons of malleus and idia please 👉👈

➳ cuddlebug (malleus draconia/idia shroud x gn!reader; separate)

cw: kinda short cause still on writer's block, characters might be ooc, overall fluff

a/n: my freshmen year in pharmacy school has ended like weeks ago (yayy!! and had really good grades ngll) and had lots of time to write sum fics for you guys ^^

malleus draconia 🐉

i feel like malleus himself would be the first one to initiate into cuddling you just because he's curious on how warm you were comparing to him. bro's really curious since in his culture and heritage, mothers would initially cuddle their egg/babies and giving them with love. malleus, however was deprived with this opportunity since his mother is barely present when he hatched from his egg.

at first, your boyfriend is slightly nervous when asking you this question since the two of you are dating for at least 5 months. you just looked at him and said, "why are you asking this question? you know I'm really comfortable with you cuddling me. im just waiting for you to cuddle with me." as you extended your arms in front of him.

malleus just went 🥺 and 🥰 as he picked you from the floor and proceeded to lay the both of you into his bed, making you shocked from the sudden action but quickly relaxed as soon as you felt his head being placed on the crook of your neck. malleus loves it when your hands are caressing his face as he stared at you with adoration and hearts in his eyes and tends to kiss your hand while your hand are being cupped to his cheek.

most of the time, he's the big spoon in terms of cuddling but if he's the one having a really bad day, he's the one laying on your chest being the little spoon. malleus would also love the cradle position and the half spoon since he loves holding you on his arms.

idia shroud 💠

you're going to be the one who would proposed the idea on the subject of cuddling with him because this guy, won't be the one to initiate cuddling cause he would die of shame asking you to cuddle so good luck with him (even tho i loved him sm).

even though idia loves you (like a ton), he's gonna wait for you to ask him if you would like to cuddle with him. bro's not the type to make the move first aside from asking you out (thanks to ortho's reassurance that you liked him back)

he's also not used into physical touch so you better be patient with him, it may start with his head on your shoulder and escalated into hugging you from behind as you lay down on his bed. idia would love it if one of your leg in placed on his thigh when he plays something on his computer/console.

idia's concern regarding cuddling you is his hair but you quickly reassured him that you loved his hair so much on how comfortably warm it is in his air-conditioned room. he would whine if you are not touching his hair if the both of you are cuddling together (only you and ortho since he is really uncomfortable on others touching him, including his long hair).

probably he dreams on having you on his lap when he plays a game or just relaxing with you while talking about his interests and kisses your face while holding you (he's quite shy on kissing your lips yet hehe)

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

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madthetruemad · 5 months ago

Text

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 8 | An Aeon

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

When you wake up, your mind feels kind of fuzzy. Almost as if you were missing something.

“Something the matter?”

You felt your soul leave your body at the sudden voice causing him to laugh. Snapping your head to the side, you noticed it was the man from before. The one who erased your death- wait, your death? And that was when it hit you. You couldn’t remember how you died or the pain that you felt. It was like-

“It never even happened?”

You gave him a weary look, causing him to chuckle softly at both your expression and how you were acting.

“There is no need to fret, you know? I am not going to hurt you.”

“What- what are you doing here?”

You ended up ignoring his lighthearted words and gestured to the library. You were still on the couch, and the book you were holding had fallen to the floor.

The man mused to himself, his smile light and warm.

“I suppose it was quite rude of me to task you finding my name.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because my name hasn’t existed in the sense that you know of.”

“…I don’t understand.”

Sunday turned a little and patted his lap. Despite not remembering your death, you did remember how you met him. So you crawled to him, moving some of the cushions in your way and laid sideways, your head nuzzled comfortably in his lap which allowed him to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“My name is Sunday, and I existed not too long ago. However, my reign was short lived thanks to that Emperor. And to worsen my pride, he went and erased my very existence by taking out everything that had any relevance to me.”

“Sunday…?”

You let his name roll off your tongue. The name wasn’t familiar.

“So you fought and lost against the Emperor?”

“I did. I suppose I wanted to see if I still existed somewhere. Anywhere. Though, if I don’t even exist in the Emperor’s library, well, then my name wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Why did you fight against him?”

“For my own beliefs. Much like everyone else.”

“What exactly are you anyway?”

“I’m just Sunday. An older brother. A friend. A leader of sorts. And someone who failed in the end.”

“How are you here now then?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke and when Sunday looked down at you, you wondered how someone so angelic could look so sad but still have that soft smile on his face.

“I guess you could say I got lucky with how supposedly died… if shorter terms, I became an aeon.”

“An aeon…huh? And what was that kiss you placed on my forehead? Ever since you did it, I have been having trouble remembering some things.”

“A kiss on the forehead erases pain and misery, so I kiss your forehead, however, a kiss on the forehead can also erase memory. I suppose…, I just didn’t want you to remember the pain you felt when you died.”

“Why?”

Sunday smiled at your question, “because I wanted to, do I need any other reason?”

You hummed at his answer, your eyes glancing back to the library door. You don’t remember closing, maybe Blade did?

“So now that I know your name, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well,” Sunday started, “you still want to go home, don’t you? Find a way to do that.”

“But how? I kind of died the last time I tried.”

Sunday shook his head as he tried to keep himself from laughing, “don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way. And don’t worry about the rest. If you do die again, I’ll simply erase everything all over again.”

You nodded to his words, but yawned once more, despite sleeping for so long, you were still so impossibly tired which was when Sunday gently bent down to kiss both of your eyelids.

“A kiss to your eyelids, to erase your tiredness.”

And it was true, the sleep that was beckoning gradually left and just as you were about to say something to him, he was already gone. Your head was no longer on his lap and instead rested on a bunch of cushions, and just as you were about to sit up, the library door opened.

“You’re still lying down,” Blade said, an obvious hint of annoyance rested within his tone causing you to frown at him as you sat up.

“I was getting up,” you argued which caused Blade to roll his eyes.

“Whatever…, are you planning to stay here all day princess?”

Huffing at his attitude, you stood up while completely forgetting about the book you had been reading, “I get it, ok? I’m leaving right now.”

Stomping your way out of the library, Blade followed not so quietly after you.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the couch, did we?”

“Oh shut it you…,” your voice trailed off when your stomping slowly slowed to a stop as you looked out to the field where there were a few people riding horses.

A new idea soon forming in your mind.

“Blade.”

“What?”

“I want to go horseback riding.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbun @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

#hsr #honkai star rail #There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair #emperor jing yuan x reader #emperor jing yuan x princess reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan #emperor jing yuan #hsr jing yuan

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alexwritess · 1 month ago

Text

just this once ~g.s~

Content warnings: angst, mentions drug-use, mentions relapsing, smut (MDNI), service dom! geto, oral (both receiving), praise, degradation, rough sex, piv unprotected sex, make-up sex (YES GAWWDDD), gn! reader (reader does have a vagina), overstimulation, creampie (for LACK of a better term great heavens), and a little fluff for my sappy hoes

word count: 2.8k (ik it’s kinda long, bare w me)

(a/n: in this fic, just imagine geto being HEAVILY tattooed, i could not find any reference pics so the gif will have to do i fear. also i barely proofread this so i apologize in advance for any typos)

You had just gotten home after a long day at work and all you wanted to do was relax in bed with your boyfriend. You walked into the house and were met with Suguru’s cat Yuki laying in the dead center of the living room. Her head poked up as she saw you walking through the door, causing her to run over to you. You crouched to the floor, petted her, and kissed the top of her head before something caught the corner of your eye. A small pack of cigarettes was hidden under a napkin in the small trash can that sat by your front door.

“Suguru?” You called, your voice ricocheting off the walls.

“Suguru!” The disappointment in your voice was prominent. Suguru had been going through a rough patch and he developed unhealthy habits since his failed assignment of protecting a young girl by the name of Riko Amanai.

After inspecting the entirety of your home, you finally found him sitting out on the patio. It was like he immediately sensed your presence and arose from his seat to greet you.

“Hi baby” He smiled, leaning to kiss you but you pushed him away.

“Are you smoking again?” You asked, your hand flying up to scratch your forehead to try and comprehend how this could’ve possibly happened.

“What? Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

You scoffed at his response. “Don’t “sweetheart’ me right now Suguru, just answer the question”

“No, I’m not. Why would you think that?” His tone was rattled.

You nodded as you pulled the empty box of cigarettes out from your back pocket and waved them in his face.

“I found these in the trash can by the front door”

“They’re not mine, I swear”

“Don’t bullshit me right now” You said, staring directly into his brown eyes.

“I’m not, they’re Nanami’s. He was here a few hours ago”

“Okay” You nodded. “So if I were to call Nanami right now he would tell me that these were his?”

Suguru was quiet for a second. No longer making eye contact with you, he shrugged and nodded.

“Let’s see about that”

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your contact list searching for Nanami’s contact. You clicked on his name and stared at Suguru, who was trying his best no to look at you as the phone rang. After about 3 rings, a deep voice was heard coming from the other side of the line.

(R= Reader, N= Nanami)

N: I’m working

R: Hey sorry, were you here today by any chance?

N: No, I’ve been at work since morning. I’m actually working overtime today

R: That’s weird, I was told otherwise. Anyways, sorry for bothering you at work

N: It’s no problem, and uh… is Geto okay?

R: He’s fine Kento, thanks. Bye

N: Alright

*End call*

“You are so full of shit” You shook your head at Suguru, who was now staring at the floor below him, praying it would swallow him whole after he had just been caught in a lie. He exhaled deeply before attempting to walk closer to you, the unpleasant smell of tobacco hitting your nostrils.

“Don’t crowd me, you reek” You softly spoke, walking away from him.

For the record, you weren’t upset that he relapsed. You were upset that he felt comfortable enough to lie to you about it after you had both made it clear that honesty, openness, and communication were the biggest you needed to work on to make the relationship last.

A couple hours later, you were in the kitchen making dinner. You had forgotten that what you had planned on eating that night was Suguru’s favorite food, Zaru Soba. Somehow, preparing it made you even more upset. Soft footsteps were heard descending the stairs and you immediately dreaded having to be in the same room as him.

His arms snaked around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder, planting a soft kiss upon it. Suguru was notorious for being extremely clingy after arguments and/or disagreements, he HATED seeing you upset. Especially if he was the reason for your negative emotions. With his head still resting on your shoulder, he looked up at your eyes before looking back at the cutting board in front of you.

“This looks really good, babe” He said.

You swatted his arms from around you as you walked over to the pantry to return everything you had used to cook.

He scoffed at you. “The Silent Treatment, seriously?”. The silence grew a little more deafening as the only noise that occurred was the food hitting the bowls you were serving it into. You pushed a bowl over to Suguru because even if you were extremely upset with him, you still loved him…with every inch of your being. You slowly picked at your food, not feeling much of an appetite.

“Can you at least say something? Us not talking is killing me right now” he finally spoke up.

“I don’t have anything to say, Suguru”

“That wasn’t exactly your case earlier though, was it?” He muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Go to hell” You said, before exiting the kitchen and making your way upstairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

Tears slowly poured out from your eyes, but it was like as soon as you dried your eyes, even more tears came streaming down.

“Y/N?” Suguru’s voice called from the other side of the door. The door slowly opened and he peeked his head in. How the hell did he open the- wait- he’s a sorcerer.

He walked into the room and stood right next to the door.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” He scanned your face to see if you were going to say anything.

“Look, I fucking relapsed okay? Is that it? Is that what you wanted to hear?” The sound of his voice raising at you caused you to cringe. He’d never raised his voice at you until tonight.

He took a deep breath before continuing “I’ve been through a lot of shit these past couple of months, and I don’t need you berating me for a minor setback”

“I’m not berating you, I’m just upset and angry that you felt the need to lie to me about something this serious”

He covered his face with his hands. “It was a couple fuckin’ cigarettes, babe”

“The whole fuckin’ pack is not a couple, Suguru. I’m worried about you”

“I’m fine” He huffed.

“No you’re not, you and I both know that”

“I’m your partner and I love you. When shit like this happens, please talk to me. We’ve been together for almost 3 years and we’ve always told each other that we would ALWAYS confide each other with our problems. I don’t know it’s just… I feel like you might not trust me anymore”

He slowly walked towards the bed and sat right next to you, wiping a tear from your eye and bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

“That is not true, I trust you more than anyone in this whole world. I-” he paused. “Since I took some time off from work and since you’ve been picking up more shifts at the bakery, you’ve been really stressed and busy and I just didn’t wanna bother you with my shit”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard the last words of that sentence. How could the love of your life ever feel like he would be a burden to you?

“You’d never be a burden, my love”

“God, I love you” He said, his eyes sparkling with tears.

“I love you too” You said back, before he gently placed his lips onto yours, His arms immediately reaching for your waist and yours immediately reaching for his neck. He leaned forward, his broad, fit frame landing right on top of you. The kiss grew hungrier as you spread your legs to feel just how much he was hardening from above you. Suguru pulled away from your lips, kissing down your neck, then your shoulders. Creeping closer and closer to your chest. You flipped the switch, causing you to now be straddling him. His wrists pinned to the bed. You reached for the hem of his t-shirt, eagerly pulling it over his head. Your hands explored his tattooed torso and left slow delicate kisses all down his body until you got closer and closer to the waistband of his briefs. He stopped you as you reached for his sweats.

“What are you doing?” He asked, in a rather confused tone.

“You always take care of me, let me take care of you for once” You responded, smiling up at him.

“You really don’t have to do that”

“I want to though, you never let me get you off” You said, reaching into his boxers.

“That’s because watching you get off helps me get off” His words were followed by a sharp gasp as your cold hand met his erection.

“Let me do this for you, baby. Just this once” You whispered into his ear.

You placed your lips back onto his as you stroked his hard cock through his boxers.

“Ngh, fuck” he moaned out.

You proceeded to pull his pants and boxers off at once and were shocked by how pre-cum he’d already leaked. You licked him from the base of his cock up until the tip and took his entire length into your mouth. Slowly moving your head up and down as Suguru lost his mind from under you. You looked up at him for a split second and saw his head thrown back as he let out different whimpers and cuss words, praising you for how amazing your mouth felt on his throbbing cock.

“Ngh, fuck sweetheart”

The closer he got to his orgasm, the more you teased his tip just enough to send him over the edge. He lifted your head off of him by grabbing your chin, he kissed you sloppily not having a care in the world that you were just going down on him less than a second ago.

“You are so fuckin’ sexy” He said to you. “Get on your back for me, angel”

He smiled down at you as you did what he said. “I love it when you do as you’re told, so good for me”

He had practically ripped off every article of clothing you had on, leaving your body completely exposed. He planted innocent kisses on stomach, neck, and shoulders. He was barely even touching you but he just knew what spots would make you tick.

“Suguru please, I- I need you”

“Patience, my love”

Suguru began moving lower, planting kisses on your inner thighs. Creeping closer to where you really needed him, you were practically in heat waiting for him to stop teasing you. After what felt like a million lifetimes of waiting, he was finally paying attention to your soaked, aching core. He slowly licked in between your wet folds and mainly focused his tongue on your swollen clit. Flicking it back and forth with his tongue before sucking on it with a little more pressure than usual. As your clit kept his tongue occupied, he slid one of his fingers into your wet cunt, earning a choked out gasp from your mouth.

“F-fuck” was all you could manage to get out, considering every cohesive thought was being washed out of your brain from how good his mouth felt on your pussy.

“Oh my…fuck Suguru!” You squealed, attempting to close your legs from your clit having grown way too sensitive but he pried your legs open with his forearms and held them open. The lewd noises exiting your mouth were the only form of response you had to how badly he was manhandling you.

“Ungh, shit baby I’m getting cl- fuck i’m gonna cum”

“D-don’t s-stop, FUCK” you screamed.

He sat upright and the sight of his mouth and chin covered in your juices made you wetter than you already were. He crawled up to you, tenderly kissing you, letting you taste yourself off of his tongue.

“I need more of you, like right now”

“Your wish is forever my command, sweetheart”

He begins pulling his hair back but you stop him.

“No, leave it down. You look hot”

He smiled at you before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed himself into you, your back automatically arching and a high-pitched squeal immediately leaving your mouth. Suguru cupped your face and stared directly into your eyes.

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You’re okay”

“Oh my god, you feel so g-good”

He responded by planting a kiss on your forehead as he fucked you harder. Your eyes involuntarily began rolling to the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, eyes on me sweetheart, look at me while I fuck you”

You look up at him with the most cockdrunk look in your eyes, the sweat beads on his forehead and the way his long hair fell perfectly made you want to have this man’s babies right then and there. You attempted to say something but it came out as random babbles because the only thing you could truly think about was how good Suguru’s hard cock felt repeatedly pounding into your drenched pussy.

“I know baby, I know” He lightly smiled. “You’re taking me so well, you like being a good slut for me?”

You lazily nodded. “I need to hear your words”

“I like being a g- g- fuck that feels so good”

He chuckled. “That’s not what I asked you, angel”

“Ungh fuck, I love being a good s-slut f- for you”

He groaned in response and you felt a slight twitch in his cock, hinting that he was nearing his orgasm.

“Are you close?” You asked him, he slowly nodded.

“Y-Yeah why?”

“I wanna c-, fuck I need to cum with you”

“No, you cum first”

Suguru always insisted on making you cum first, he didn’t give a damn if he had to edge himself for hours, he just always needed you to get off first.

“You are so fucking s-stubborn”

“Was that attitude you were just giving me?” He asked. “Huh?”

He increased the speed and pressure at which he fucked you, it felt so overwhelmingly good your eyes were rolled so far back, you swore you couldn’t see for a minute straight.

“Oh my fucking godddddd, fuck Suguru. D-don’t stop, I’m gonna c- oh fuck”

“You are so fuckin’ t-tight angel”

The only noises filling the room were yours and Suguru’s moans, along with the sound of this skin loudly slapping against yours.

“I-I’m c-cumminggggg fuck!” You reaching your high didn’t stop him from continuing to fuck you at an abnormal pace and force.

“Fuck I need to cum inside you, baby” He said, cupping the side of your face.

Suguru was fucking you harder than he ever had in your 2 and a half years of having been together.

“You’re so good for me, taking all of me like the cock-slut you are. Tell me what you are, baby”

“I’m your c-cock-slut”

He groaned as his thrusts got sloppier.

“I’m yours, fuck I’m all yours”

“Shit angel, I’m so close”

“Cum inside me Suguru, I need it. I need you, please. I wanna feel all of it”

He let out a loud grunt as he blew his thick white load of cum into your tight throbbing cunt.

“Holy fuck” You exclaimed as he fucked his cum deeper into you.

“I think you’re trying to break me tonight” You laughed.

He passionately kissed you as he slowly laid next to you.

“I’m sorry” He said.

“For what?” You looked up at him.

“Lying to you”

“It’s okay Sugu, I understand why you did it”

“I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

“I love you too”

He kissed your forehead, then your lips.

The room fell into a comfortable silence when Suguru just had a sense that your mind wasn’t clear.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“Sex”

He scoffed. “You slut, we just had sex”

You slapped his chest before laughing.

“No but I um..I just wanna ask you something”

“What is it?”

“How come you never…?

“How come I never let you go down on me?”

You covered your face in embarrassment. ‘Yeah?”

“I just get more pleasure from making you feel good”

“So you hate when I give you head?”

“No baby, that is not what I’m saying. You give amazing head but I just prefer taking care of you, don’t feel selfish though, I know how you get”

“So you’re like a…service dom?”

“And what the hell is that?”

“It’s someone whose main focus is making their partner feel good in the bedroom, so they kinda like prioritize their partner’s pleasure” You explained.

“Um…I guess that’s what I am then”

“Yeah, you sure are”

He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, angel” He softly kissed your forehead before you both dozed off.

#jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic

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purple-plum-petals · 8 months ago

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⊱ You Can Do Better Than Me ⊰ || Boothill X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Boothill (Honkai: Star Rail) Reader Type: Human, Not the Trailblazer (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Break-up (Miscommunication/Assumptions… Not Permanent), Negative Body Image/Self-talk (Regarding Boothill), Use of Petnames (Boothill calls Reader “darlin’” and “sweets” and Reader calls Boothill “honey” and “love”), Slightly Suggestive Ending. Genre: Drabble, Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-Established Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~2500 words Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” Author’s Note: Hello everyone, I come back to you briefly with a random Boothill drabble because this cowboy has been on my brain for the past three months and I needed to get something written for him ASAP. I actually got both him and his lightcone on release day, so I’m still hyped about that (didn’t even need to break my F2P status either hehehe 😎). I will get around to writing a multi-chapter fic for him as soon as my summer semester is over and all of the current requests in the ask box have been answered. I’ve been managing the workload relatively well so far, but it’s genuinely been so overwhelming in terms of content/information that my brain can barely form coherent sentences after class and work. 😭 Anyways, have some self-conscious Boothill and my beloved hurt/comfort. Maybe instead of saving the horse, we should save the cowboy. Also… let me know if anyone is interested in a part two, and I’ll be happy to write it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Tag-List: @anonima-2 – I know you wanted me to tag you if I got around to writing a Boothill X Reader fic, so here it is! It may not be a multi-chapter one, but I hope you enjoy this little drabble.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You had known Boothill for quite some time now. You had crossed paths with the elusive Galaxy Ranger throughout the years, so many times that you eventually lost count. Three times was uncommon, five times was rare, but over twenty times? That was absolutely unheard of given the vast expanse of space. It got to the point where you both noticed how frequently you would meet, the two of you making jokes that the universe was pushing you together.

Boothill had thought for a while you were sent to capture and/or kill him by the IPC but, after a particularly intense “discussion” (where he proceeded to hold you at gunpoint, as he frequently did with most people), you were able to confirm that all of the times you two had met were indeed just an exceedingly rare coincidence. It was something you would occasionally bring up to tease him about nowadays, poking fun at the fact he had literally held his future partner at gunpoint. It was a memorable event to reminisce on when asked by others ‘how did you two meet?’.

Years had passed since that unforgettable interaction, and both you and Boothill were happy and content in your current relationship. All of that time together with him had given you insight into how the cowboy typically behaved. He could be brash and rush into trouble head-first, but he was also immensely intelligent and could think of a plan on the fly to get himself out of even the stickiest situations. He was the type of person who frequently spoke his mind, not allowing his tampered-with Synesthesia Beacon to completely censor what he wanted to say… which is why you were as worried as you were lately.

Your boyfriend hadn’t been as talkative as he usually was. He had returned from a three-month-long trek around the galaxy a few days ago, and he had been distant ever since he came back. His replies had been clipped, and he had a strange look in his eye whenever he glanced your way; he hadn’t even looked at you for more than a few seconds since his return.

Tentatively, you made your way over to where he was sitting by an open window in your home, the breeze gently blowing the strands of his black-and-white hair to and fro. You stepped closer to stand next to him as you asked, voice tender as you spoke, “Boothill, honey, what’s wrong? You’ve been more reserved than usual these past few days, and I just want to check to see if you’re ok–…”

Then, he spoke, his voice firm as he cut off the rest of what you were going to say, “…I wanna break up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach at his words, and you felt your palms begin to clam up with sweat as you whispered, “W… What?” You swallowed harshly, stepping closer to him as you asked, double-checking to see if you had heard him correctly, “What did you just say?”

“I said I wanna break up.” He says once more, voice rough as he turns his head ever-so-slightly to watch you from his peripheral. It felt like the world had stopped moving when he confirmed what you had always hoped you would never have to hear, and you feel your eyes begin to water. He finally, after so many days, looks at you directly after what has felt like eons. Whatever expression was on your face caused him to flinch before he looked away once more, staring at his hat on the nearby table.

Boothill sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he continues to speak, his voice gentler than usual as he tells you, “I don’t think this,” He pauses, taking his hand and gesturing toward himself before finishing his thought, “…is good fer you.”

Your emotions were fluctuating so quickly that your mind didn’t know what to do with all of them. First, you were worried about your boyfriend, then you were heartbroken when he said he wanted you two to go your separate ways, and now? Now you were angry, a sudden burst of frustration filling your veins at his reasoning behind wanting to end your relationship. Your heart aches as you exclaim, trying not to pay attention to the wetness forming along your lashes, “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Boothill is back to refusing to look at you, so you try to move into his line of sight as you ask, your hands flailing about as you speak in a desperation-laced tone, “What, exactly, isn’t ‘good for me’ Boothill?”

He turns his head to look at you, standing up from where he had been sitting as he holds his hands out, trying to placate you as he says hastily, “Listen don’t – don’t get the wrong idea, alright?”

“How can I not get the wrong idea when you suddenly tell me you want to end our relationship!?” You yell back, feeling the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. You were angry, sure, but the soul-crushing feeling of separating from the man you loved so deeply pierced your heart like a knife. Your frustration quickly began to be tainted with sorrow, your voice coming out softly as you ask him, your mind desperate for some kind of answer as you place a hand on your chest, “Did I… Did I do something for you to come to this decision?”

Panic floods his expression immediately as he reaches out, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to look at your face. He quickly tells you, one of his hands coming up to gently cup your cheek as his thumb brushes away your tears, “No, no, no, no – you didn’t do anythin’, darlin’. You’ve been perfect in every way, I just…”

He pauses, gaze traveling to the ground as he thinks of what to say. His cold, metallic fingers against your skin are comforting to you in a way you couldn’t describe – comforting in a way no one else would be able to understand. Boothill’s eyes meet with yours once more as he continues speaking with a bittersweet smile, “You could do so much better than me, sweets. I don’t want to hold you back.”

The anger you had felt was suddenly back in full force as you asked him, brows furrowed as you questioned, “How?”

Your hands come up to hold onto his, the one that was still lovingly cupping your face as you ask, leaning forward toward him as you speak, “How could I do better than you? What are you holding me back from?”

Boothill shakes his head, saying with a frown, “There’s so many things I can’t give you… I can’t give ya a peaceful life, I can’t give ya a family…” His voice cracks slightly at the word, but he continues to speak as he begins to pull his hand away from your face, “You deserve someone who’s around more often – someone who can be there for ya whenever you need ‘em.”

Boothill chuckles bitterly, removing his hand from your grasp as walks over to grab his hat off of the nearby table, and you’ve never felt so cold and empty in your entire life. You watch helplessly as he places the hat on his head, staring as he begins to make his way toward the front door as he tells you, “You deserve someone who doesn’t cause you to jump every time their freezin’ cold hands touch ya – someone who can actually feel ya.”

You step toward him, reaching out to take his hand in yours and effectively stopping him in his tracks as you say firmly, “Boothill, shut the fuck up. Aren’t you going to at least ask me what I think about this?”

Boothill sighs, turning back around to look at you as he speaks. He doesn’t do anything to remove his hand from your grasp, instead gently squeezing it in a comforting manner as he tells you, “Listen, sweets, I just think it’s for the better that–…”

“No, it’s not.” You say, your voice strong despite the tears that had begun to flow down your face. You look up at him, bringing his hand to place on your chest as you tightly hold it over your heart, telling him firmly and genuinely despite the way your voice cracks, “I don’t care if you can’t give me those things. When did I even say that’s what I wanted in life?”

“Why wouldn’t you want that?” Boothill asks, looking down at you as if you had grown a second head, as if everything he said he couldn’t give you was something that everyone would want. He looks conflicted as he tells you, trying to take his hand back as he steps away from you and closer to the front door, “You deserve to be happy – you deserve to have someone who’s there for you.”

“What if all I want is you, huh?” You tell him, refusing to let go of his hand – refusing to let him leave your life in such a way. Your hold on Boothill’s hand was tight because you knew, deep down, if you let his hand slide out of yours, you’d never see him again. You look up at him as you speak, a spark of determination in your eyes which causes Boothill’s cheeks to flush a light shade of blue, “No one else can give me you. You’re the one that makes me happy – not some dream life, not some perfect family – just you.”

“You don’t want me, darlin’ – I promise, once I’m gone, you’ll move on an’ another lucky fella will have the honor of being able to love ya.” Boothill tells you with furrowed brows and a smile, his sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips as he tries to convince you he’s not what you want. You could feel your eyebrow twitch in frustration at his words, your tears slowing down as you refute his claim.

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” You ask him, a tinge of hurt and frustration mixed in your voice as you reach out to firmly hold both of his hands in your own. Boothill allows you to do so with no fanfare, a conflicted expression on his face; his fingers twitch in your hold. He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before once again looking at him as you whisper, “Listen, if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you or hold you back, but…” You pause, smiling warmly at him before continuing, “but I want you. I want to be with you, not this hypothetical ‘fella’ you’ve envisioned who would give me a perfect life.”

Before Boothill could open his mouth to try and argue again, you quickly add on as you bring one of his hands to your lips, pressing a light kiss to his digits as you tell him, “I don’t care that you’re cold to the touch – I don’t care that we won’t have a picture-perfect life together…” You feel the tears beginning to form on your lashes again as you run your thumbs along his knuckles, telling him sincerely, “I’ve never imagined a future without you in it, love.”

Boothill looks down at you, his expression a clash between his adoration for you and the heaviness of the situation. He shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips as he presses a kiss to the back of it as he tells you, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he admits, “I… I don’t want to leave, sweets. I just…” He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, raising a brow as he once again gestures to himself as he asks, “Are you sure this is what ya want?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” You tell him, letting go of his hands as you instead wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your bodies press against one another. His arms wrap around your waist on instinct, pulling you close to him as you press your foreheads together. You stare into his eyes and bring a hand to his cheek, placing your palm against his face as you run your thumb along the skin under his eye. He leans into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as you tell him with a smile, “Rain or shine, good or bad… I want to be beside you throughout it all.”

“Heh, well… I’m glad I get to be by yer side.” Boothill says, opening his eyes once more to look at you. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple as he whispers, almost as if he didn’t want the world to hear him – to keep this tender moment a secret between the two of you, “…Thank you for choosin’ me out of the rest of the blokes in the galaxy, darlin’. I’m a real lucky guy to have someone as wonderful as you.”

“I’d choose you in every universe, Boothill. That’s a promise.” You reply with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, almost as if you were teasing him.

He smirks at both your words and your actions, saying with a raised brow as he leans back, tilting his hat up with one finger as he speaks, “That’s quite a big promise there, darlin’. Sure you can keep it?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You reply, matching his expression as you huff, “Don’t doubt me, cowboy.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Boothill says with a chuckle. He pauses, his smile faltering slightly as he looks down at you. Your eyes were still slightly red, and the stains your tears had left on your cheeks were still present. He pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck as he takes a deep breath in, muttering against your skin, “Aeons, I love ya… I love ya so fudgin’ much.”

“I love you, too, honey.” You reply softly, running your hand up and down his back when an idea pops into your mind. It was a mischievous one, and the mere thought of it causes a smirk to grow on your lips. You reach up and grab the hat from his head as you instead place it on yours, asking him flirtatiously, “Why don’t I show you just how much I love you?”

“Well… I certainly like the sound of that.” Boothill replies lowly, his eyes half-lidded as he gently caresses your face, smirking at his hat now resting atop your head. He leans down and kisses you, whispering against your lips in a sultry tone, “Plus, I’d like to apologize for makin’ you cry… Can I, darlin’?”

The tone of his voice was enough to make your heart start beating faster, and you could feel your cheeks begin to warm as you replied quickly with a simple, “Please do.”

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mendeshoney · 3 months ago

Text

rough ride, hold on tight

a/n: this is a part three to "a taste of the devine," and you can read part one here and part two here! this is all because of @smileysvech and her moodboard. gif is courtesy of @pyotrkochetkov because I think it contributes to remind you all how broad this man is, for absolutely no particular reason. title is from "railway" by bang chan of stray kids.

summary: andrei buys a new car, and you both take it out on a test drive.

word count: 8,680

tags: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, l-bombs, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics - in this fic, mainly mdom x fsub, andrei is a pleasure dom/service dom if you can't tell), smut, morning sex, oral sex, drool/spit kink, car sex and therefore semi-public sex, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

***the events in piece this are pure fiction and are potentially dangerous, therefore please drive responsibly (ya filthy animals)

You purse your lips, eyes flicking up between Andrei and his sheepish smile, and back toward the brand new cherry red Lamborghini Urus sitting in the driveway behind him. It's sleek, shining in the Raleigh sun, and the sparkle of the rims in the afternoon light screams dollar signs back at you.

You absolutely do not sigh.

The only reason you recognize the car is because you’d seen Andrei looking it up on his phone a few times over the last couple of weeks, and now that it’s in front of you, you don’t know how you didn’t put two and two together before.

From where you stand inside your shared three car garage, your Range Rover rests on your right, and Andrei's black Mercedes S-Class and his green BMW sit in the other two spots to your left.

Andrei’s new toy is definitely not going to fit in here.

"I traded my other Lambo in for this one," he explains, the smile impossibly wide on his lips.

"Who is it for?" You ask, though you don’t know why, considering it’s obvious, and Andrei flashes you a kilowatt smile.

"It's mine!" He exclaims. "You can use it too, obviously, if you want to. You can use any of my cars, you know that."

You hum noncommittally, glancing at the car again, then back at your clearly very excited boyfriend.

"Well?" He asks, antsy, practically bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"It's really nice, malysh." You say honestly, because it is a very nice car, despite being far less discrete than the other two sitting next to you. It's also subtly flashier than his last one, and certainly more roomy. His old Lambo was a classic two-door, two-seater deal.

At least this one has a backseat.

"But...?" He asks, taking a step closer to you.

You shrug, welcoming him when he wraps his arms around your waist. "Does Daniel know?"

Andrei scrunches his nose. Daniel's his accountant, who Andrei is usually good at calling before he makes big purchases like this. "It wouldn't be here if I didn't call him."

You pinch his side lightly, "Don't get sassy, I'm just making sure."

"I'm not," he protests, the slight whine in his voice not going unnoticed. "But you don't like it."

You frown, shaking your head, "That's not true, I said it was really nice."

"That doesn't mean that you like it." Andrei points out.

Carefully, you withdraw from his embrace and lean back against the door of your Ranger Rover. You consider your words carefully, because you know what it means to him to be able to spoil you, his family, and himself. But this is...well, kind of a lot.

He surprised you with the Range Rover for your birthday, which you had been eternally grateful for - your thighs throb a little with the memory of just how thoroughly you'd thanked him for it - but that was only a couple of months ago.

And a month before that - when you agreed to move in together as opposed to continuing the long sleepovers at the other's house - he'd moved the two of you into your current home. It had a three car garage, huge backyard, and a master bedroom with the most ridiculously large bathroom you'd ever seen in your life.

So this was a bit…well…

You weren’t the kind of person who dictated how others lived their lives or spent their money. And it wasn’t like Andrei didn’t have money.

But, you remember a conversation the two of you had early on in your relationship. Andrei held you tight in his arms as you lounged on a chair by his pool, gazing at the stars as his fire pit kept you both warm. He’d told you about his upbringing, about the things his parents did and how much they sacrificed for him and his brother to keep them safe so that they’d be able to pursue their dreams.

He told you about what it was like to feel the want for things, both out of survival and desire. He told you about how being in the position he was in empowered him to give back to his family and to himself to make sure he never felt that want ever again.

So…

While you understood all of that, the shiny new car in front of you still gives you pause.

“As long as you’re happy,” you say, “then I’m happy with it.”

Andrei stares, considering the - what you hope is neutral - expression on your face. Whatever he sees there doesn’t convince him though, so he pulls you back to him, looping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You trust me don't you?” he asks.

You're nodding without a second's worth of hesitation. "Of course I do."

"Then I'll show you it's worth it."

You’re not entirely sure what he means, or how he plans on doing that, but you nod anyway, tilting your head back so you can kiss the sharp angle of his jaw. “Okay, malysh. But you’d better park that new ride in the garage. You can move my car into the driveway.”

There’s a delicate caress to your waist that coaxes you from your mid morning nap, followed by gentle kisses that trace the line of your jaw, then neck.

You stir, exhaustion still running rampant in your body, shifting to lay on your back.

"Kroshka," Andrei murmurs. You feel when he makes his way under the covers, lifting up his shirt that you wore to bed to expose your bare lower half.

He carefully rests your thighs over his shoulders, placing kisses to each as he goes, before you feel a kiss to your sternum, your belly, and then a kiss to your core, before he hums to himself, content. His hands rest on your waist, fingers gripping your body in a way that anchors him to you.

His tongue is warm and gentle against your skin when he takes his first taste, and you stir a little more, back arching in a stretch.

Andrei makes a soft noise to calm you, reassure you, and you smile, hands disappearing under the covers. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you can feel when he smiles against you. He tilts his head to meet the touch of your other hand, where you gently caress his cheek, thumbing against his jaw.

"My love," you say sweetly, and he presses a kiss to your palm.

"My love" he says in turn, turning back to your pussy. You welcome the open mouthed kisses he presses there, the long and filthy licks he gives you in between, moaning when he sucks your clit into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it in a way that makes you dizzy.

You arch into his mouth, both hands diving into his hair as you giggle, scratching gently at his scalp.

"Won't you come up here and kiss me properly?" You tease, tugging lightly at the strands before your hands fall to your sides.

He laughs, pressing noisy kisses to your skin. Andrei wiggles dramatically, your thighs still draped over his shoulders as his head pops out from under the covers, body bending you in half a little. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips pink and wet, smile dazzling you.

You can't help but think of how cute he looks like this.

"Hi beautiful." He says, eyes crinkling with his smile.

You return his smile with a bright one of your own, arms reaching out for him. "Hi handsome.”

“Have a good nap?”

You nod, “I did. Can I have a kiss?"

He goes to you, eager as always. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers dancing at his nape. His kiss is soft, gentle at first, like he’s coaxing you to fully wake up, drawing the exhaustion from you with his mouth. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces as they move, exchanging delicate kisses back and forth as the mid morning sun creeps in through a small gap in the curtains.

It’s not long before you’re more awake, more aware of the fire pooling in your belly, and your tongue teases at the seam of his lips, turning your kisses dirty in an instant.

You moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, head going dizzy. He moves his arms, allowing your legs to drop from his shoulders so you can wrap them around his naked waist.

You lock your ankles at the small of his back, arching into him, pussy rubbing against his hard cock. He’d worn briefs to bed, and after you two went for a run this morning, then came back to shower and eat breakfast, he’d changed again, and was definitely dressed before your nap, but had clearly shed them before he decided to wake you.

Little shit.

You’re usually sensitive in the mornings anyway, so when his cock brushes against your folds, Andrei grinding himself against you, and your nipples brush against the fabric of your sleep shirt as you press against his bare chest, you feel yourself getting wetter, mouth dropping open in a whine.

He makes the already filthy kiss filthier when he slips his tongue in your mouth, caressing it against your own, almost massaging it. You reciprocate, and he takes you by surprise when he sucks on your tongue, Andrei moaning in approval.

The noises his mouth makes as he sucks on your tongue echo in your brain, bouncing around the edges and intensifying the haze of arousal. Andrei presses his hips tighter against you, the slide of his cock up and down along your pussy getting easier and more slippery with each passing second.

The haze clears for a second when you feel the head of his cock catch at your entrance, and your hands trail from the back of his neck to his shoulders, pushing at him. He parts from you with a small dissatisfied noise, breathing heavily through his nose as he gazes down at you.

“Are you going to be good for me, shchenok?” You murmur, one hand coming up to cup his chin, thumb gently rubbing against his bottom lip.

He nods, pressing a kiss to the pad of your thumb.

"If you make me come," you start, sugary sweet. "You'll get a reward today."

Andrei's eyes flutter shut, turning his mouth to suck lightly on the tip of your index finger, tongue delicately licking at the digit. Your finger slips out of his mouth when you pull your hands away, resting them down at your sides again.

Nothing else needs to be said as Andrei wiggles his way back under the covers, settling back between your thighs and resting them on his shoulders. His mouth latches onto your pussy without preamble, tongue dragging up through your folds to taste you before the tip of it flicks against your clit. He repeats this a few times, and it draws a pleased high pitched noise from you, arching yourself closer against his mouth.

His tongue dips into your entrance and you keen out, his name leaving your lips in a breathy moan. He rests his forearms across your abdomen, pushing down just a little to anchor you to the bed, fucking his tongue in and out of you, burying his face into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit.

"Shchenok," you sigh, lifting the hem of your shirt a little higher. You wiggle your hips, trying to ease his grip on you so you can take what you want, but he's too strong, too focused and too pussy-drunk to do anything except reach up, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing, his arms pressing down against your stomach so he can continue fucking you with his tongue, burying his face against you, stimulating your clit with gentle bobs of his nose.

You can feel your orgasm approaching quicker than you expected, and you give into it fully, hands descending back into Andrei's hair and gripping at the strands when you come, thighs tightening around his head as your body shakes, a cry of relief tearing from you throat and echoing around the bedroom. Andrei groans at the taste of your release, lapping you up and cleaning you up with his mouth at the same time.

After you've had the chance to calm down and catch your breath, you're quick to throw the covers back, taking in his flushed appearance and thoroughly mused hair. He climbs up your body a little, resting his head on your chest and his hands at your ribcage as you comb through his hair lightly, trying your best to tame it.

"Happy, kroshka?" He asks, lips brushing against the bare skin of your breasts.

"Always," you nod, pushing a happy sigh through your nose. “Do you need-”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m alright.”

You nod. Andrei’s always been the giving type, good about not always expecting things back, but even more so the longer you two stay together.

You also did promise him a reward for later, so you suppose him holding off right now isn’t so bad.

He squeezes you, burrowing his face further into your chest. "I love you so much, you know that?"

You smile, squeezing him back. "I do, Drei. I love you too."

You can feel his kilowatt smile more than see it, and your heart pounds behind your ribcage. You hear him hum to himself, which is his telltale sign that he's got something on his mind. So you wait him out, let him gather his thoughts.

"Will you go somewhere with me today?" He asks finally, fingers dancing gently where they rest on your sides. It tickles a little, causing you to squirm, and it makes Andrei laugh, pressing a small kiss to your skin in apology.

"I'll go anywhere with you," you say honestly, and mean it.

There are moments more often than not lately, especially now that you'd been together a little over a year and a half, where you felt like you two were never going to get out of this “honeymoon phase.” Maybe it’s the domesticity of living together, maybe it’s how easy the two of you fell together, or maybe it’s the optimism for the future - either way, you’d go anywhere so long as you had Andrei at your side.

He smiles, kissing your sternum once before he’s carefully climbing off of you and off the bed. You notice the small wet patch on the front of his boxers and giggle.

It also still amazed you at how easily you could turn Andrei on, how he could come without touching you, how giving you an orgasm was enough to send him into his own.

“Get dressed, kroshka,” he says, pointing at you with a mischievous smile. “Wear something pretty.”

About forty five minutes later you’re slipping into a sundress, grabbing your purse, and putting on your sandals as you head out to the garage, then stop the second you’re in the doorway.

The garage door is open, and you fully expect to see Andrei in the driver’s seat of your Range Rover, on his phone and waiting for you to go. Instead, your car is back in its old spot, and he’s leaning against his Lamborghini from where it sits in the driveway, his charming smile too hard to ignore.

You make your way out, locking the door behind you, and Andrei presses the garage door opener on his keys the second you’re in the driveway and in his arms.

“What’s this?” You ask, curling into his embrace.

At the hesitation in your voice, Andrei gives an easy shrug and a reassuring smile. “Thought we’d go for a drive. Maybe even along the coast.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “The coast is two and a half hours away, Drei.”

“Good thing we have the right car to take us there then.” He wiggles his eyebrows, then makes a show of opening the passenger side door for you. “Your chariot awaits, kroshka.”

You take his outstretched hand, letting him help you into the passenger seat safely before he closes the door behind you. You take an appreciative look around as you buckle in, noting the sleek leather interior and the softness of the seat beneath you.

Andrei climbs in, buckling himself up before starting the car, and you jump a little when the rumble of the engine reverberates even through your seat, vibrating beneath you.

…Interesting.

He smirks, putting on his sunglasses before driving away, and you settle in, relaxing in your chair as the car continues to rumble under you.

Andrei’s been driving for about forty five minutes when you start to get antsy.

The car practically purrs beneath you, Andrei maneuvering the luxury vehicle with a practiced ease. He looks ever so handsome in his fitted black shirt, the fabric sticking tight to his muscles and accentuating the hard work he’s been putting into his body over the off season.

His jaw clenches when the road opens up in front of him, allowing him to press on the gas and send the car flying forward on the highway. The engine rumbles to life, the vibrations of the car getting stronger as you speed up, the other cars becoming a blur beside you.

The vibration rumbles against your skin, but particularly, between your thighs, and you find yourself turning your head toward the road, biting your lip to keep from making any noise.

You were still sensitive from that morning and had been turned on since then by the wheels in your brain turning to figure out what Andrei’s reward would be for being so good, the anticipation of it all sending liquid heat through your veins.

Andrei eventually slows down a little, speed plateauing, and the intense vibrations of the engine only dull down slightly. You can feel yourself getting wetter, and you end up squeezing your thighs together, trying to pass it off as nothing as you stretch your arms and then your legs, wiggling as you try to get comfortable in your seat. Your hands fall into your lap, right where the skirt of your dress rests, and you flex your fingers to stop yourself from lifting the fabric and rubbing against the cotton of your definitely soaked thong to get some reprieve.

He notices - because he notices everything about you - and rests a hand on your thigh, right above your knee, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on your skin. “You okay, kroshka?”

You hum, nodding, trying not to focus on how warm his hand feels, how far it is from where you want him to be. “I’m okay, malysh.”

“Do you need me to take the next exit? Get food or anything?”

You want to say no, but you need a break from this goddamn car that you’re starting to think has been sent to drive you insane, so you nod instead, saying “Maybe, I think I just need something to drink.”

He nods, reaching for your hand where it rests in your lap. A little gasp almost escapes when his hand brushes against your lower belly, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, his other hand still on the wheel and driving expertly.

It’s a few minutes to the next exit, but Andrei takes it smoothly, driving till he gets to a gas station. He doesn’t need to fill up the tank quite yet, so he follows you inside to get some drinks and a couple of snacks.

You head straight for the sugary stuff - taking your time as you browse to try and calm yourself into some semblance of normal. You go about grabbing some lollipops, sour strawberry belts, a couple of chocolate bars, a pack of M&Ms and some Skittles, before heading toward the soda fridge and grabbing a Diet Cherry Vanilla Pepsi. Andrei grabs his usual chips, an energy drink, some water, and a couple of packs of his favorite gum.

Andrei usually travels with a cooler in his trunk, and he must have grabbed it before you headed out for your drive, because he also grabs a few ice cream bars and a bag of ice, before you follow him to the counter. He pays for everything, grabbing all of the bags so you can grab the receipt and get the door on the way out.

You both eat an ice cream bar each in the car before Andrei gets back on the road, slowly picking up speed about ten minutes later. He’d loaded most of your cold items in the cooler in the backseat, save the two ice cream bars you ate, your Diet Pepsi, a cherry lollipop for him and you, and his water.

He’s currently sucking on the lollipop while you quietly sip your soda, trying to focus on the lingering taste of vanilla ice cream and the cherry vanilla-esque taste of your drink instead of the heat that had been plaguing you earlier.

It works, but not for long, because soon the road opens up again and Andrei’s slowly pressing down on the gas, the engine purring to life beneath you. It’s like a rollercoaster, the way you can feel the vibration of the car slowly get more intense before it starts to rumble as Andrei reaches a higher speed.

This time, you’re not able to stifle the quiet moan that spills past your lips, and you immediately tense, clearing your throat to play it off as you put your soda in the cupholder, fidgeting in your seat.

Andrei notices.

Out of your peripheral vision, you see him turn his head to you, eyes no doubt curious behind his sunglasses, before turning back to the road. His hand returns to your knee, thumb resuming his rubbing in gentle circles as he speaks around the lollipop in his mouth.

“Kroshka?” He asks. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you respond weakly, “‘M fine, Drei.”

When he doesn’t say anything back to you, you chance a glance at him yourself, and Andrei turns his head toward you, observing, before turning back to the road.

His hand squeezes your knee, and you know he knows.

It’s probably all over your face at this point, and your stomach clenches when he smirks around the lollipop, control hanging on by a thread when his hand travels up your knee, higher and higher till it’s right below the hem of your dress.

He flexes his fingers, the tips of them dancing on the insides of your thighs, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying your best to tamp down the moan that threatens to spill over. Andrei speeds the car up suddenly, switching lanes, and the sudden rumble of the engine has your thighs squeezing together before you can register what’s happening, trapping Andrei’s hand there.

You pry them apart only a second later, but Andrei makes a small noise of protest.

“What’s got you like this, kroshka?” He says, lollipop tucked against his cheek. His lips are so red.

Shaking your head, you reach for your soda, taking another sip, letting the bubbles dance around your tongue to give you something else to focus on. When you put it back in the cup holder, Andrei’s hand moves from your thigh to your hand, bringing it to his mouth and wrapping your fingers around the stick of his lollipop, helping you guide it out of his mouth.

The candy leaves his lips with a soft “pop!” that nearly makes you dizzy, the sound going straight to your pussy in an almost painful throb. You can feel yourself getting wetter, the cotton of your panties probably soaked by now.

Andrei, careful as his eyes flick between you and the road, guides the lollipop to your mouth, gently pushing it past your lips to rest on your tongue. You see the way his throat works around a swallow, and you know what he’s probably seeing, imagining. Your lips wrapping around the head of his cock, sucking him like this stupid lollipop, lips bright red as his precum drips onto your tongue.

You make sure to purse your lips nice and pretty around the candy before his hand leaves yours, resting back on your thigh, squeezing once.

“Zajka,” he practically croons, his voice deep, teasing, taunting. It nearly makes your thighs squeeze together again. Instead, you try to shift a little in your seat to get comfortable again, but Andrei’s hand feels like a solid weight, keeping you still.

You pull the lollipop from your lips, the cherry flavor sticky against your lips. “Yes, malysh?” You answer.

God.

You’re shocked at the sound of your own voice, how fucked out it sounds, and that just about does it. The last grip on the control you maintained this morning is gone, slipping from your hands and right into Andrei’s lap.

It’s not like Andrei never takes control in the bedroom. He does, and he’s damn good at it, but he revels in the moments where the control is in your hands, where he can do whatever he can to please you, to be told that he’s perfect for you, being so good for you.

But when the control changes hands, when he takes charge, he takes it firmly by the reins and relishes in it, makes you question why it’s not like this all the time.

He looks at you briefly, his eyes tracing from the lollipop to your mouth, before glancing back at the road. You comply, slipping the candy past your lips to rest on your tongue, teeth biting down on the stick when you feel Andrei’s hands against your pantie clad pussy.

A pleased noise rumbles from his chest, knuckles brushing against your clit. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nod, a muffled “mhm” coming from your chest. He puts a little pressure behind his hand, and though you don’t mean to, your back arches, thereby taking your lower half a little bit away from his touch, and his head snaps over to you, brow raised, the corner of his mouth turned down in a slight frown.

The apology is on the tip of your tongue, but it’s too late, because he takes his attention away as well as his hand, and the loss of his touch is almost too much for you to bear, especially when he directs his attention back to the road, both hands gripping the wheel as he speeds up, the engine rumbling to life beneath you with a vengeance as the luxury car tears off down the open highway in front of you.

“You’re gonna have to be patient, zajka.” He says, voice toeing the line between stern and gentle. “I need to find somewhere for us to go so I can take care of you.”

“Mkay,” you murmur around the candy, squirming a little in your seat as the car vibrates under you once more.

Andrei laughs to himself. “I just got this car, baby,” he says pointedly, “and you’re already going to leave a wet spot?”

You say nothing, too overstimulated, too desperate for him to fight him or comment on his teasing. Between the car, Andrei’s not-enough touch, and this lollipop that you suspect was used to keep you occupied in the meantime, you’re halfway to delirious, panties soaked with arousal growing uncomfortable with each passing second. The purr of the engine feels nice, but it’s nowhere near enough to satisfy.

All it does is push you closer to the edge, but never allowing you to leap.

You can only let your eyes flutter shut as you rest your head on the window, trying to focus on your breathing, on the sticky candy in your mouth, resting on your tongue. You try to focus on anything and everything other than the luxury car sent from hell - the heat fluttering low in your belly, and Andrei’s heavy breathing from beside you.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel the car finally start to slow down, too lost in the haze to process anything.

“Kroshka,” Andrei murmurs, and your eyes blink open, head turning to gaze at him. His voice is rough, the way it always sounds when he’s barely hanging on by a thread, and you squeeze your thighs together.

Taking a look around outside, you notice he’s pulling up to a hotel with a tall parking garage, and as he pulls into the guest side of the garage, you raise an eyebrow.

Pulling the lollipop from your mouth, you ask “Are we staying here or something?”

Andrei shakes his head, using one hand to take off his sunglasses and toss it onto the dashboard before he grabs a ticket from the machine, pulling forward once the arm raises. You note that the garage seems mostly empty, so you turn your body to look at him curiously, taking another sip of your soda before pushing the lollipop between your lips again, watching as he passes all of the empty spots and continues up to the next level, then the next, until he gets to the roof.

He parks in a spot at the corner of the roof, one not in the eyeline of any of the rooms of the hotel beside the garage, or one that can be seen from the street. There’s a cement base to a tall street lamp that hides the front seat of his car, obstructing the two of you from the view of the rest of the parking spots up here.

Andrei turns to you then, leaning over the center console and gently pulling the candy from between your lips. He reaches behind your chair to the backseat and grabs the plastic bag from the gas station, tossing the candy inside and then tossing that bag in the backseat before he all but launches himself back at you, pulling you to him with a hand behind your neck and seizing your mouth in a bruising kiss that has you rising up to your knees, sitting back on your calves.

A surprised noise leaves you before you moan into the kiss, loving the way his hand tangles itself in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back a little. It causes your mouth to open a little more, and Andrei takes full advantage, licking into your mouth rubbing his tongue against yours as his other hand snakes its way down your torso and into your soaked panties, Andrei passing your clit altogether and sinking two fingers into your soaked cunt, all the way down to the knuckle.

“Oh!” You cry out, arching your body towards his, and a wicked grin crosses his features.

He’s the picture of arrogance, cocky as ever as he starts to work you open on his fingers, scissoring them this way and that but never curling to touch that sensitive part of you. The noises that his fingers make as he works are obscene, echoing around the car and mixing with the little whines you let out against his mouth.

Andrei breathes them in, his lips curling around your tongue as he sucks on it, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body, dripping onto his wrist.

“Taste so good,” he says around your tongue, licking into your mouth. It’s so obscene, nasty as his spit and yours starts to trail down your chin, neck, onto your chest. He bends his head, licking it up before pushing it back into your mouth with his tongue, lips and tongue messy as he kisses you.

His fingers finally brush against that sensitive spot inside, distracted by your mouth, and you moan, grinding down on his hand only for him to grip your hair in his hand again, a warning that says “Behave” as he pulls you back just a little.

“Naughty little zajka,” he says against your lips. “You say you hate my brand new car then rub your little pussy all over the seats when the engine purrs for you, hm?”

You shake your head in protest, mewling when Andrei drags your bottom lip between his teeth before he sucks on it, pressing messy wet kisses to the corner of your mouth, chin, lips, all over as you speak. “Never said I hated it, I - nghhh!”

Your words die in your throat when Andrei starts to finger fuck you in earnest, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your g-spot each time as he fucks them in and out of you.

“Show me then,” he taunts, “Show me how much you love it. Come all over the seat, zajka. Make a mess.”

You shake your head - it’s too fast, the pressure’s just right and you’re aching for release but it’s too much too soon. Your orgasm is racing towards the finish line and you can barely catch your breath. You reach out to touch Andrei, hands landing on his forearms where you squeeze as his fingers bring you to the edge.

“Can I come, malysh?” You plead, pushing the words out through stuttering breaths.

He nods, leaning forward to bury his face into the crook of your neck and suck a bruise there, his ministrations never stopping. His fingers practically beckon you to him, beckon your orgasm out of you in their insistent “come here” motion, and when Andrei drags his teeth against your skin, fingers pressing deep against your g-spot, your eyes squeeze shut, body seizing as stars burst behind your eyelids and your orgasm overtakes you, arousal dripping down Andrei’s fingers and through your soaked panties onto the seat below you.

You can distantly hear soft sobs as Andrei’s voice pulls you out of your daze, calling for you gently, and it takes you a long moment to realize that it’s you sobbing, tears of relief streaming down your face as Andrei’s fingers inside of you keep still while his other hand holds you steady.

“So good for me, zajka,” he praises. “So beautiful. You did so good waiting for it, didn’t you? Waiting for me to make you feel better.”

Your head feels heavy when you nod lightly, and Andrei waits till you come back down a little more before he carefully and slowly withdraws his fingers from you, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he brings his hand out from where they’ve been in your now soaked cotton underwear.

You don’t see it when his eyes glance below you, at the wet spot on the chair, and he smirks, his broad chest somehow getting ten times bigger at the sight.

You do see it when he sucks his fingers coated in your release between his lips, eyes fluttering open the moment he does so, watching with apt amazement as his eyes drift shut, lost in the taste of you.

Carefully, you rise back to your knees, arranging yourself until you’re sitting normally again so you can slump against the seat. Your chest heaves as you breathe, trying to calm your racing pulse, ignoring the fact that despite how hard Andrei just made you come, your pussy still throbs between your legs when you hear Andrei’s fingers finally leave his mouth with a wet “pop!”

It’s quiet, and for a moment you think he’s going to say something smart or cocky, tease you more, but instead, he leans over the console, hand reaching for the lever on your chair and pulling until your seat is pushed all the way back, leaving a large amount of room in the well under the dashboard in front of you.

You could almost laugh, watching Andrei and his broad, tall body maneuver itself out of his chair and across the console until he’s on his knees in front of you, pulling your legs apart gently. His hands come up to your waist, pulling your soaked underwear off of you in one go, stuffing them into the pocket of his shorts before he’s reaching for your waist again, pulling you until you’re perched on the edge of the passenger seat.

He looks up at you with a fond smile, and you can only find the energy to peer down at him with a curious look, head still thick and dizzy with your recent orgasm.

“Gonna clean you up, baby.” Andrei answers your unspoken question, pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and pushing upwards.

He moves so fast that you can barely get out an “Andrei, baby, wait-” before he buries his face in your still wet pussy, tongue pushing into your entrance.

Your back arches, mouth dropping open in a loud cry as your body unconsciously pushes your pussy further into his face, body wrought with overstimulation.

Between the time he spent between your legs this morning worshiping you with his mouth, and how he fucked you on his fingers just now, you’re more than overwhelmed, overstimulated, and spent, but you should have seen this coming. When Andrei gets like this, when he takes control, he’s prepared to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you until he gets too impatient and finally slides his cock into you to the hilt.

And lately, Andrei’s become very good at being very, very patient.

He licks and sucks at you like a starving man, like he’s been stuck in the desert and you’re his first drink of water in days. His mouth is even more insistent than this morning, tongue alternating between lapping at you, circling around your clit, dipping inside of you, and his lips sucking you into his mouth, making you buck your hips into his face. Every time you do, he moans, the vibrations rumbling against your skin, and he ends up just yanking you impossibly closer to him, hands on your waist feeling like an anchor.

You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you like a runaway train. It’s almost too much, too soon, but at the same time it’s never enough.

Since you’ve been with Andrei, it’s almost never been enough. It’s why you both end up in this constant push and pull of control, patience, restraint, restricting yourselves to “just one” or “just one more,” putting limits on yourselves until the dam breaks and the two of you end up going at it for hours.

Afterall, you two became so addicted to one another from the very beginning. There had been ten whole days between the first…well, several times…and you two entering a relationship, thereafter which you spent two unbelievable days practically glued to his bed, his shower, and your favorite, his kitchen counter, which you spent at least thirty minutes cleaning once you’d come out of your horny stupor.

Whenever Andrei gets like this, near delirious with the need to please you before he can seek any kind of relief, it takes you right back to those two days spent in his bed, to the way he made you both physically and emotionally feel his desire for you.

Now, that desire is still there, but his love always overpowers it.

It’s what drives you straight over the edge when he dips his tongue inside of you then sucks on your clit, his name falling from your lips as your hands fall over his, fingers intertwining as you shake under his mouth.

When you’ve come back down, chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control, Andrei licks at your pussy lazily, cleaning you up with his gentle and caring attention.

You allow it for a few moments, until you realize there’s still a small fire in your belly, and you know Andrei’s probably as hard as a rock beneath his shorts.

So you squeeze his hands, offering a small smile when he looks at you.

“I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I?” You say, and Andrei nods, tongue still gentle as he licks at you again. You gesture for him to come to you, so he does, rising up on his knees, resting the back of your knees on the crook of his elbows as he carefully bends you in half. He doesn’t waste another second before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with all the desperation and desire he can convey.

You reach for his waistband, undoing his belt, the button, and the zipper before pulling the waistband of his briefs down. Andrei helps, not breaking away from your kiss as he shimmies his clothes down his thighs until his cock springs free, red and leaking against his abdomen.

He bucks into your hand when you wrap it around his cock almost immediately, moaning into your mouth. His hands rest on either side of you gripping the cushion of your chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white at the force, every part of his body fighting to restrain itself from fucking his cock into your fist, especially when you make your grip that much tighter.

“You wanna fuck me, baby?” You murmur, moaning in surprise when he licks into your mouth, body leaning into yours that much more.

“So badly,” he asserts, sucking on your tongue the second you lick into his mouth in return. He moans, all but drooling into your mouth. He’s so desperate, so lost in your kiss and earnest in his desires that it’s a little bit messy and a little bit uncoordinated, but Andrei doesn’t care and neither do you.

You pull your head back a little, and Andrei makes a small noise of protest. “You want to do it like this? Here?”

He nods, trailing his lips to your chin, your jaw, and to your neck, his lips wet with your lingering arousal and spit. “Pozhaluysta,” he pleads, leaving open mouthed kisses at your nape.

You adjust your hips, lining him up with your entrance. His hips buck, restraint most likely breaking, and the head of his cock slips inside.

The moan that echoes around the car belongs to both of you, and you can feel Andrei’s breath stutter against your neck. “S-Sorry, moya koroleva.”

You shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face, bringing him from his hiding spot in your neck to come face to face with you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you pull him closer to rest your foreheads together. “No need to be sorry, baby,” you murmur, squeezing around the head of his cock experimentally, smiling a little when you can hear him start to whine.

“No games, Drei,” you promise, kissing him sweetly, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, running your tongue over it gently before pressing little kisses to it. “Just you and me, okay?”

He hums against your mouth, chasing after your kisses even as he speaks. “No games?”

You shake your head gently, careful not to detach your lips from his. Andrei needs you too much to deal with the push and pull, and you’re still too needy to bother with it. You rub your thumbs against his cheekbones, murmuring against his lips when you say “I just want you.”

The sigh of relief he lets out practically stutters past his lips, and you swallow it down, breath catching in your throat when he finally pushes in a little more. He groans low and deep in his chest, hands releasing the seat cushion and fitting themselves against your waist as he continues to push his thick, long cock inside until his pelvis is flush with your ass, the head of his cock close to kissing your cervix in this position.

You both physically relax when he bottoms out, and Andrei cups his hands over yours where they rest on his face.

This is the kind of sex that Andrei loves having with you the most - the kind where you can both just lose yourselves in how good you both make each other feel, and how good it feels for you both to be able to please each other in a way that’s basically instinctual at this point. He loves being close to you, loves being attached to you in every way; buried inside you, lips attached to yours even if it’s just to kiss lazily, arms wrapped around you.

A shiver runs through your body when you feel him throb inside you, and you tug at his bottom lip gently. “Please, Drei,” you plead on an exhale, only to inhale sharply a second later when Andrei pulls his hips back, only to drive them forward and bury himself deep inside once more.

He starts at a slow pace like that, withdrawing halfway to just push himself back in, jaw clenching when you squeeze around him each time he’s buried deep inside once more. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his hands resting over yours, keeps your knees tucked safely in the crook of his arms. When he buries himself deep, pressing almost tightly against your cervix, he exhales through his nose, shakily breathing in on his next inhale.

A whine works its way out of your throat when he starts to pick up speed, still keeping the depth, still driving his cock in so deep that it hits that soft part inside of you that makes you see stars now each time he drives inside. It stokes the fire in your belly, pleasure rolling over you in waves.

When you squeeze down on him again he moans, low and deep, pushing a breath through his nose as he tries to keep focus, but he’s losing it so quickly. His hands finally fall from yours and grip onto your hips, setting a quicker pace, lighting you up from the inside out.

The pressure and the drag is so good for both of you that moans and whines echo around his car, and your eyes roll back into your head, hands dropping from Andrei’s face to his forearms, fingers flexing uselessly, too weak and pleasure drunk to grip onto him tightly.

Meanwhile, Andrei feels like he’s going insane. It hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate, and it hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate like this, but it never mattered when it came to you. You lit something on fire inside of him, walked into his heart and his soul and turned on all the lights and settled in. It was almost laughable with how good you made him feel, about anything and everything, but especially this.

He can feel a knot form at the base of his spine at the same time he starts to feel your pussy flutter and clench around him, the way your body wants to push him away and pull him deeper at the same time. Carefully, he tightens his grip on you and thrusts harder, a little faster, careful to keep you in place on his cock and not jostle you too much.

His car is definitely shaking with the force of his efforts, and the moans and whines falling from your lips start to get louder, dragging out as you both climb and race towards your orgasms. You tilt your chin up, eyes squeezed shut as your lips search for his. He captures them in a bruising kiss, groaning into your mouth as one of your hands reaches up weakly to cup his jaw.

“I love you,” you manage to choke out, pressing the declaration to his bottom lip. “I love you so much.”

A low whine of relief echoes in his throat, and Andrei leans forward, burying his face in your neck, pressing your hips down as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” he grunts out against your neck, sealing his words with a kiss. “Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she vsego na svete.”

His confession takes you by surprise, and you gasp, spine arching as you come and pussy squeezing him so tightly that it’s almost painful for him as he fucks you through it, bullying his cock into you as he chases after his own orgasm. When he comes, he presses deep inside, leaning into you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can, your fronts pressed together.

Your heavy breathing fills the car, the silence echoing against your ears and making your head throb a little bit, but you hold tight to Andrei, feeling his chest heave against yours as he tries to get his breathing under control. He drops your legs after a moment, and you stretch them delicately behind him before locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

“I like your car,” you eventually say.

The silence that follows is brief, Andrei cutting it when he laughs out loud, and you can feel his teeth press into your skin with how wide he smiles from where he’s still hiding in your neck. He noses along the length of it, nuzzling that ticklish spot under your ear, and then presses a kiss there, whispering a soft thank you.

He’s still weakly pulsing inside of you, and you willingly wait him out, content to just sit here with an armful of your doting boyfriend who just fucked you silly in the front seat of his stupidly expensive luxury car that secretly (apparently) doubled as a vibrator.

“There’s baby wipes,” he says eventually. “In the glove compartment. We can throw the wipes in the bag from the gas station.”

You raise a brow. “Did you come prepared for this?”

He shakes his head, slowly pulling himself back to look at you. His face is flushed, pupils blown wide a little, gaze still slightly hazy. “Not completely, but I brought them just in case.”

Carefully, he twists his upper body a little so he can turn and open the glove compartment, taking a few of the wipes out and turning back to you with a happy grin. You smile, pressing a quick peck to his lips. “My smart guy.”

Andrei chases after your mouth, and you let him catch you, savoring the delicate kiss he gives you. He presses three more to your lips. “Gonna pull out now, baby. Gonna clean you up.”

You nod, fully relaxing back against the seat and unlocking your ankles from behind him. He carefully withdraws himself, and is quick to begin cleaning you up with the wipes when his come starts to immediately fall out of you.

You’re not surprised at how much there ended up being - he had been pent up since the morning, after all.

You reach behind you to where the plastic bag with your lollipop fell to behind his seat, and you hold it open for him as he deposits the wipes before tying it off and putting it back behind his chair. He carefully massages your legs, offering you a wolfish smile.

“Should we keep driving?” He asks, “Or should I maybe book us a room here? Since we’ve basically commandeered the roof of their parking lot.”

You smirk at him. “Fucking in a Lamborghini not enough for you?”

“It’s never enough when it’s you,” he says. Even though it comes out playfully, you can hear the seriousness in his voice.

You reach out, running a hand down his front. “Let’s go home, actually. The coast can wait another day.” When he looks at you, confused, since he didn’t mention that as an option, you smile mischievously at him. “I want to suck your cock while you drive and see how many times I can make you come by the time we get home.”

He blinks at you, stunned, before he’s fumbling, pulling his briefs and pants up before all but launching him out of the passenger side of the car and racing back to the driver’s seat.

You can do nothing but grab the hair tie on your wrist and pull your hair into a ponytail, a content feeling running through your veins.

You could definitely get used to having this car around.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #carolina hurricanes #andrei svechnikov smut #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut

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uglypastels · 6 months ago

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Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a fic Logan being all stubborn and caring with an introverted/loner type reader? I’d love if if she were sort of like him in terms of aging and had been used as a sort of weapon in her past, now she’s afraid to be with him, thinking she’d hurt him or something? And he just reassures her that even if she did, he wouldn’t leave her alone. If not that’s completely fine but thanks for reading! Loved your last fic btw!! 💚

i did my best with this and i really hope you enjoy it. also it might not be super clear from how i wrote it, but i wasn't too sure on how else to include it, but the reader's mutation is meant to be that she has spikes pull and retract from all over her body, kind of like a porcupine... ? idk i wanted it to be similar to logan's but different.

warnings: trauma/severe ptsd. angst. nightmares. crying. aggression.

~ X-Men requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Sweetheart, wait,’ Logan called after you.

‘Don’t call me that, Logan!’ You exclaimed as you shut the door, tears ready to burst. You let the weight of your body fall against the door, your arm reaching for the bolt to lock it. You didn’t know what had come over you. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But perhaps that was exactly it. Just one too many times, had Logan come too close. At first, you hadn’t minded it all too much. Actually, you kind of enjoyed it. It was safe when you knew to keep him at a distance. But each time he persisted, you felt your walls tremble beneath his strength, and you wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. And then that happened… people would get hurt. As they always did.

‘Please, I just want to talk.’ His voice was muffled through the door. But you could feel him as if he was right next to you. The heat of his body radiating right through everything and onto you.

‘Just leave.’ You shouted back at him. Eventually, he would have to give up and go. If not for rest, then nutrition; if not food, then he would certainly need a drink.

‘I’m not leaving you. Not like this.’ He tried the handle, but it just rattled uselessly next to you. ‘C’mon, let me in.’

The tears finally broke through the dam and flooded your cheeks as years of emotions and memories overwhelmed you. It all suddenly flashed before your eyes. Both the things you remembered and those that felt like images from a movie you had never seen before. Puzzle pieces of a life you did not remember and only made your head spin more.

‘It’s happening again, isn’t it?’ He always knew. You weren’t sure how, but Logan could always tell when you were having an episode. Possibly because he was the only other person on earth who understood. Who knew exactly what you had gone through. Perhaps you had known each other before the experiment, but neither of you remembered. All you knew was that you had found eachother, both lost, confused and afraid. You fought for and with eachother, but there would always be one thing that kept you at a distance, no matter how hard Logan would try to get closer to you.

Some minds just weren’t as strong as others, and after everything that had happened, it started to take a toll on you and your powers. The nights where you woke up screaming, bedsheets soaked in cold sweat, had been in the hundreds. And Logan would always be the first one at your side, ignoring the searing pain of the thousand needles that perforated his skin as he held you.

You couldn’t always control your powers. Not when you were in such a state. You were working on it, but the weekly sessions you had with the professor could only do so much. There was only so much Logan could take, and seeing him get hurt because of you only added to the fuel of the nightmares. You had never told him how the lost dozen times you awoke in terror was because of the image of his dying frame at your mercy.

But that’s all that it was. Nightmares. And you would never let it become reality. That was a promise you had made yourself a long time ago.

You were pulled back to reality by a loud, hollow thud coming from the other side of the door. Logan punched the wall, nearly cracking the layers, as he called out to you with no response. Your name echoed through the building, the simple word getting filled with more and more worry with each repetition.

‘Why do you care, anyway, Logan?’

‘Because I love you, damn it!’ He burst out, and it was like the oxygen had been taken from your lungs. Time stood still. You couldn’t move, breathe, speak. Even clear thoughts couldn’t form in your mind. You had no response. None that wouldn’t bring any less hurt than you already had. But the warmth radiating through that door never left your side. For what you didn’t know was that Logan had also made a promise a long time ago, and you’d have to kill him before he’d break it. That much was sure.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

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lwwife · 1 year ago

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Heyyyy please please please could you write a Leah Williamson fic where the reader plays with her for Arsenal and the reader keeps getting taken down during the match. It gets to a certain point and Leah starts getting angry against the person that keeps taking you down. I feel like the reader and Leah aren’t officially together but have always liked each other and dating maybe?? Thank you!!!

My bodyguard

Fluff, Injury, angst (not between reader and Leah)

Word count: 2,200

“How are you feeling about today?” Leah asks you, placing a comforting hand on your knee while you both sit in the changing rooms.

“A little anxious but I’ll be fine” You smile back at her. Today you play your old team, Man United. You’re still on good terms with most of the girls, however your ex-girlfriend, not so much. You haven’t played against her since you left last season, being sick for one of the games, and injured the other. Things already didn’t end well between you and Gabby, but when Ella accidentally let slip that you went on a second date with Leah, shit was she fuming. You received a few heated messages, to which you did not respond. So, today’s game, with you being a striker, and her being a defender, you knew you would have to be in her perimeter, and that scared you a little. You knew how good she was, but you also knew that she’d try to rile you up.

“You’ve got this” Leah whispered, inching forward to place a kiss on your cheek but moving back when she realised what she was doing, not knowing if it was okay or not. You two had always had a thing for each other. It’s been clear to everyone since your first England camp 3 years ago. Both were too nervous to make a move, especially since she had just come out of a relationship with Jordan. So, when Gabby asked you out, you said yes. The teasing and joking came to a stop once you and Gabby got together officially, but when you two broke things off and you transferred to Arsenal, it was back on in a flash. The second you saw her in the change room at London Colney you knew you had made the right decision. It wasn’t until 3 months later that Leah finally asked you out, very shyly. Your first date was electric, and everything felt right, the timing was finally right for both of you. A day later Leah asked you out for a second date, to which of course you said yes. Neither of you had embraced in anything more than gentle touches, and small moments of handholding, not wanting to mess up after waiting so long for the opportunity.

Stood in the tunnel at Meadow Park, you catch the sight of the jersey a couple of people in front of you on the line to your left “George” written across the back, you huffed, and she turned around making eye contact. You rolled your eyes and turned your head to face the front, where you caught sight of the jersey at the front of your line, “Williamson”, the long name curving and covering Leah’s entire shoulders. You smiled to yourself. She stood there, back up straight, armband on her left arm. She will play this game as captain since Kim is out with an injury. She turned back and looked at you, feeling your eyes staring. She had her game face on, and you were instantly turned on at the sight. You pulled a stern face at her “So serious” you mouthed. She rolled her eyes, but you caught her smile just as she turned back to the front.

The game started okay, Arsenal dominated the match, however, most of it was played in the midfield, and you were yet to touch the ball. In the 15th minute, Arsenal finally made a break, Lia had passed the ball through to Beth who then crossed the ball into the box, you jumped slightly trying to get something on your head when rather you felt a pair of feet swipe at yours subtly, hitting just enough to mess your landing and fall straight onto your front. You grunt hard trying to get up. Once you get to your feet you shake it off and turn your head to find Gabby smirking. You take a deep breath and continue on.

Gabby continued to make subtle digs at you through the first half. Harder hits when you were outside the box. You continued to get up, taking deep breaths, shaking it off each time. By the 43rd minute, she made a bold slide at least a good 3 seconds after the ball had left your feet, causing her to get fouled finally and you awarded a free kick. This time however you struggled to get up, having fallen weirdly on your previously injured ankle. You turned to lay on your back and propped yourself up, bottom still on the floor you rolled your ankle around, wincing slightly. That’s when you heard Leah a meter away from you. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She spoke quietly but still loud enough for you to hear. You turned to find her close to Gabby hands outstretched, but subtly, as if trying not to get noticed by the ref.

“What do you care? Protecting your girlfriend?” Gabby responded, scoffing.

“Just fucking chill out with it. You’ve been targeting her all game”, Leah walked away and jogged to your side. “You okay baby?” Your eyes widened at the nickname and your stomach filled with butterflies. Leah’s face remained concerned; brows furrowed. You stretched your ankle a bit one last time and moved your hand up to run your thumb over the line in between Leah’s brows.

“I’m okay” you smiled. “Your eyebrows will fall off if you keep scrunching them so much”, Leah giggled, the lines around her eyes creasing and you instantly smiled. “Now help me up”.

Arsenal ended up scoring from the free kick, Katie banging it into the box, and Viv tapping her foot on it.

The half ended and you all walked back to the changing rooms. On the way back you felt a hard nudge in your back, it was Gabby, almost walking through you. “Really?!” you shouted at her; she continued walking, blatantly ignoring you. You sat in the changing room, listening to Jonas and the assistant coach setting up the game plan for the second half, your ankle still slightly sore. Leah noticed you wincing slightly and rolling your ankle around.

She turned to you, “Are you sure it’s okay?” she questioned, gesturing to your ankle.

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine, just a bit strained”, you replied, giving her a sad smile. She grabbed your hand.

“Come on, let the physio tape it up for you.”

The team returned to the second half feeling energised and motivated. Eager to keep a clean sheet and score another goal or two. The first ten minutes ran well until Gabby decided to start her hard hits up again. She would nudge you hard, or step on your feet in a corner, hard slides still coming in. Leah ran to your side each time checking you’re okay not before giving Gabby the coldest look you’ve seen. It wasn’t until the 83rd minute when Gabby had pushed you hard during a corner, that you hit your head on the post while falling. You smashed to the ground, unable to open your eyes, the light making your headache. Your forehead started to pound, and you felt yourself start to drift. It wasn’t until at least a minute later your eyes started to flutter open, the medic calling for you “Y/n we need you to stay awake. Y/n open your eyes, come on, slowly that’s it, good job”, You saw two of him, sometimes turning to three. You tried to look around, but everything was blurry. You could hear yelling and the crowd oohing and gasping. You turned your head to the right, not lifting it, where you found Leah and Gabby going at it. Teammates attempting to pull them apart.

“Don’t ever fucking come near her again!” Leah shouted, finger in Gabby’s face.

“Or what, what’re you going to do about it huh?” She edged Leah on, moving closer.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Leah warns.

“I’m not going anywhere Leah, how about you stay the fuck away from her” she growls back, again moving closer.

“She wants me around, that’s the difference between you and I” Leah’s finger points into Gabby’s chest. “You think doing this shit will make her want you back? She deserves so much better than you.” Leah growls. Gabby loses it, shoving Leah forward. Leah instantly shoves her back. They both continued on until they were finally able to be pulled apart. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will fucking destroy you” Leah yells to her. Gabby gets shown a red for the push on you and on Leah. She walks off slowly, and Leah shoves her off the pitch to hurry her up. She happily takes the yellow and runs to your side.

“Darling” Leah whispers, running a hand softly through your hair.

“Ow,” you whisper.

“Shit! I’m so sorry baby” Your stomach flutters again, almost taking all the pain away. She grabs your hands instead, squeezing them nervously.

“She’s going to need to go to the hospital, they need to run checks that we can’t do here,” the medic informs her.

“Fuck okay, she’ll be okay though right?”

“Yes, she should be, it’s a pretty hard concussion, but we need to check for permanent damage.”

“Y/n” Leah whispers, “They’re going to take you to the hospital, okay? I’m going to meet you there. I’ll follow you” She turns to the medic.

“No” you try to tell her, but your voice is almost inaudible. “You don’t have to” you rasp.

“No, but I want to, I’ll be right there, okay? It’ll be okay baby.” She kisses your hand and squeezes one more time before getting up.

Your eyes slowly flutter open, and you’re met with the white-roofed hospital. Lights shining bright.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” Leah grabs your hand and presses a button next to you.

“Leah?” you rasp out confused.

“Yeah, I’m right here darling, are you okay?” Suddenly a nurse appears at your side, asking you how you feel whilst checking your blood pressure and heart rate.

“What happened” you ask, slightly confused. Leah explained the situation to you, Gabby’s push into the post. “Fucking hell” you mutter. “What are you doing here?” you question her.

“I wanted to be with you, I needed to make sure you’re okay.” She rubbed your hand and you smiled at her, your heart rushing.

“I’m okay” you whisper back, smiling lovingly, and squeezing her hand.

“Alright Y/n I’m going to discharge you but you’re going to have to have someone stay with you for the next 24 hours. Do you have a family member you can call?” The doctor asks you, clipboard in hand.

“I’ll do it” Leah jumps.

“No Leah, you’ve already done enough stop it”.

“No Y/n you stop it. I want to. I’m happy to do it, darling. Is there anything I need to know?” She asks the doctor. He runs Leah through some instructions, and you stare at her, she’s listening intently, nodding along, focus plastered on her face. Your heart swells at the sight and your mind begins to think all kinds of loving thoughts.

A few hours later you’re laying on the couch scrolling through your phone when a video of Leah and Gabby from the match appears on your screen. Leah enters the living room. “Y/n what are you doing? The doctor said no screentime!” She goes to snatch your phone, but you pull back.

“What’s this?” you question her, turning your phone to face her. She glances and the screen and her eyes widen. She snatches the phone off you, locking it and throwing it on the other end of the couch.

“Nothing. You shouldn’t be on your phone” she tells you off and turns to go to the kitchen.

“Not so fast missy” You stop her. “Come here” Leah turns to you, looking at you questioningly. “Here. Now.” you pat next to you. She walks over slowly, head down. “What did I just watch?” You asked her.

“Nothing, we were just chatting about the game” Leah keeps her head down.

“Nothing huh?” Leah nods her head quickly. “Leah, you know I could hear the audio, right?” She groans and puts her head in her hands. “Hey, don’t go shy on me now” you tease her. “You know you’re quite hot when you’re mad” you whisper. Placing a hand on her thigh. She turns to you, and her mouth opens slightly. She inches forward, slowly. You inch forward too, meeting her halfway. You both stop just before your lips touch and look each other in the eye. You nod and the next thing you know Leah’s lips are on yours. The pair of you grab at each other instantly. You deepen the kiss, and it feels perfect. It’s passionate, but gentle. You could call it loving. Your lips mould together as if they were made for each other and everything seems in place, the two of you are finally here, together. After a while, you pull back to breathe. You smile against her lips, “My bodyguard” you whisper.

“Shut up” and like that she dives in to kiss you again.

@y/ny/ln’s story

A/n: I feel like this wasn’t my best work but I tried, I do apologise for that, I hope you enjoyed anyway. Respectful feedback is always welcome in my comments, messages, or asks :)

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #wlw #awfc #leah williamson x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #lionesses

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iamnmbr3 · 5 months ago

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Thoughts on Drarry and post war relationship?

Like, with canon in mind, do you think that Harry would fall first, Draco would or it'd be at the same time?

And who do you think would act on those feelings first and how would the Wizarding world react to the great Harry Potter being in love with a Death Eater?

Because I always viewed Harry as someone that knows what he wants and won't shy away from it, whereas Draco might have a harder time with all of it due to the fact he is a Death Eater, and while I don't think there's actual evidence of it, I always thought he'd feel unworthy of forgiveness and love after the war, so I think that if Harry fell for him Draco would try to push him away.

Sorry it these are two many questions for just one convo but I'm curious on your thoughts

What an absolutely delightful ask! I love getting things like this in my inbox. Definitely not too many questions. Thanks for waiting till I had a chance to sit down and write out a proper answer.

I think it's quite possible that by partway through 7th year Draco was forced to come to terms with the fact that he has feelings for Harry Potter. Strong feelings. Once in a lifetime love feelings in fact. He's tried to run from it and he just can't anymore. Oh he's not foolish enough to think anything will ever come of it. Even if by some miracle they both survive the war he knows he ruined any chance of that long ago. But he does have to face the fact (which he's been hiding from for so long) that the feelings are there. (Meanwhile Harry's too busy compartmentalizing as hard as he can because he's got a war to fight).

And then the war ends and he goes right back to denial - trying to insist to himself that he's over it, he's moved on, he has. Because the alternative is too painful to deal with. Though when he meets Harry again - whether in 8th year or after - he can't help caring more than ever what Harry thinks of him. If they meet again many years later maybe Draco's even given up on trying to convince himself he'll ever be over Harry. He's in unrequited love with Harry Potter. It's just a fact of life, a tragic and painful condition he lives with (though he'd just die if anyone found out). Of course Harry would never want him but it's terribly important to him that Harry at least not think that he is who he used to be. He goes to great lengths to show Harry that he's changed because he needs Harry to know that much at least. Even though he knows it probably hardly matters because ultimately he's just a footnote in Harry's life. It's not like Harry thinks about him.

Harry, of course, thinks about Draco. A lot. Somehow in the aftermath of it all his mind keeps going back to Draco (and also their lives somehow keep intersecting) - returning the wand, thinking about how Draco saved him, maybe inexplicably missing the hawthorn wand a bit, speaking at Draco's trial, perhaps exchanges of letters in the aftermath. And beyond that. Harry can't help notice Draco anytime he's in his vicinity. Can't help reading and remembering any article about him. Can't help wondering what he's up to and making it his business to find out. And when they finally do start interacting regularly he can't help being struck by how much Draco has changed and how enjoyable he actually is to be around in a strange way, and how Draco no longer treats him badly but does still treat him as a person and not a mythical, nearly godlike figure.

Of course, this is not to say that I think they would just immediately fall into each other's arms while Harry quotes the best drarry metas at any doubters. I personally find it jarring and ooc when fics have Harry suddenly hate Draco postwar and be mad that he didn't go to Azkaban and have to be talked around by his friends who are somehow all besties with Draco while Harry is the outlier, because Harry never hated Draco even when he had the most cause to and felt more sympathy for him than others and even lied to obfuscate his crimes. So I don't think that makes sense.

But I also don't think it makes sense for Harry to just immediately act like besties with Draco postwar and start talking about him like he's swallowed a dozen tumblr metas. Because that doesn't feel true to life either. Yes they're drawn to each other. Yes postwar a lot of the barriers keeping them apart are gone. But it would still take time to get over the past contentiousness between them. Harry would need to see that Draco had changed. Especially if we're talking 8th year when emotions are still running high and all their wounds are fresh.

Or even later. I can see Harry initially being suspicious of Draco. I can see Draco caring way too much what Harry thinks of him but that emotion translating into him lashing out when that's the last thing he actually wants to do. Because that's what he tends to do when he's feeling vulnerable. I can see Harry being way too upset and disappointed if he thinks Draco might not have changed, while his friends wonder why he's taking it so personally. And I can see Harry, who is way more introspective than he often gets credit for, starting to think hard about his relationship with Draco and why what Draco does post-war matters to him quite so much.

He might tell himself he's investigating Draco for the safety of others, or even for Draco's own good so he doesn't waste the chance Harry gave him. But it's more than that. And if Harry realizes that Draco's in trouble somehow he's resolved to help. He's tired of the fight. And Draco feels the need to thank Harry somehow, to show him he's changed. Though he's also mystified about why Harry would speak up for him yet again, when he's already done so much. Except of course Harry would do that. Because he's just a good person like that isn't he? Draco was just too busy being jealous and spiteful over something he could never have to notice wasn't he? (It's way more than that of course; Draco has never been just another person to Harry).

Anyway they are always drawn to each other and they always find each other. In 8th year if they go back to Hogwarts or through letters or some other way otherwise. And however many years pass before it happens they both live rent free in each other's heads. Awkward and stilted conversations become less awkward over time and leads to joking that each finds surprisingly enjoyable and then more conversations and confidences and each finding it increasingly difficult to not notice how handsome the other is. And well, one thing leads to another. Harry's the first one to make a move because Draco would never. Even if he thinks the feeling is reciprocated he assumes it's just too impossible given who he is. It would ruin Harry's life.

Even once they get together Draco assumes this will have to be no more than a fling, a dirty shameful secret that Harry will probably regret someday. Harry's not buying that. He doesn't care what the public thinks and never has. And he tells Draco so.

When it inevitably eventually hits the press obviously a lot of the coverage is not kind. Eventually Harry starts to wonder if maybe Draco cares. And he actually pulls a Quibbler 2.0 and gives an interview and by the end of the week the public is obsessed with the epic story of 2 star crossed lovers. Of course, for some Draco's past can never be forgiven and Harry can never be forgiven for associating with him. But Harry doesn't care. He never asked people to look up to him in the first place.

Other people though are thrilled by the story of their epic romance. It's got rivals to lovers caught on the opposite sides of a war, it's got redemption, it's got drama, it's got heartbreak. What's not to like? Sure a lot of the details get mangled. But it works out alright in the end. And eventually as the years and decades go by it's just another story that was big in the day but is now just a fact of life.

#asks #drarry #hpdm #dmhp #h/d #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #harco #drarry meta #harry x draco #harry potter x draco malfoy #harry/draco #harry potter/draco malfoy #my meta #drarry g

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starkwlkr · 10 months ago

Text

silver springs | mark webber

thanks to everyone who voted! like my seb fic, this will only have three parts

part 2 part 3

warning: cheating

requests are closed

INSTRAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, landonorris and 563,377 others

yourusername congratulations oscarpiastri on your incredible sprint race win! first win in f1, but it won’t be the last!

oscarpiastri ❤️

papayafans481 DESERVED

teampiastri did anyone see the interview with david coulthard and mark webber?😭

leclerctears what happened??

teampiastri david kept bringing up y/n and mark couldn’t even say her name 🥲 he said mclaren team principal when referring to her

lewis8wdc what the fuck happened between them?🤨 i know they dated I’m guessing they ended on bad terms

op81xx girl they were gonna get married 😭 mark had the ring and even asked y/n’s family for their blessing there’s a thread on twitter about them

aussiegrit ❤️

multi21bitch you ain’t slick old man 🤨

view all 34,366 comments

UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX

Lando had scored a podium finish while Oscar had unfortunately suffered a DNF. After the podium ceremony, you were on your way back to the Mclaren garage when you heard a familiar voice. Mark was speaking with Fernando when you had walked by them. It had been years since you were that close to Mark. Of course he was in the Mclaren garage since he was Oscar’s manager, but you were a pro at avoiding Mark Webber.

You kept walking and finally made it to the garage where you congratulated the team for their effort.

“When was the last time she spoke to you?” Fernando questioned the Aussie. He was great friends with both you and Mark. He was one of many that thought you two would end up getting married. He was utterly shocked when Mark had told him that you were no longer together.

“March twenty fifth twenty thirteen. She blocked my number, she told me I couldn’t contact any of her family members either.” He explained. “I fucked up my life, Fernando.”

No one apart from Mark and you knew the reason for the break up.

“What did you do?”

“I hurt her. After Malaysia happened, y/n tried to comfort me, but I pushed her away. I stayed in the paddock late while y/n was already in our hotel room waiting for me, i told her to just go to sleep but she never listens. I was on my way back and I decided to go to a bar and I met a woman there. . . ”

It didn’t take a genius to know what would happen next.

“Shit, Mark.” Fernando mumbled.

“That’s not even the worst part, mate. I came back to our hotel room in the morning and she had her suitcase packed. She was going back home. The woman I was with had texted her from my phone and told her everything.” Mark remembered that night all too well. “She told me she never wanted to see me again . . .”

“Funny how that turned out.”

“But she also told me something else. Her doctor had called her a few days ago and told her she was pregnant. I fucked up my life all because I got mad at the result of a stupid race!”

Like everything else in the paddock, Mark’s words didn’t stay a secret for long. A rumor confirmed true traveled fast.

PRIVATE INSTAGRAM

liked by susie_wolff, clairewilliams_official and 143 others

yourprivate happy birthday, my darling 🎀✨ i look forward to your sidewalk chalk artwork everyday ❤️

susie_wolff she’s getting so big! happy birthday!

yourprivate i’m not ready for her to grow anymore🥹

clairewilliams_official what an artist!❤️

yourprivate my own little picasso ❤️

zbrownceo happy birthday 🎂 i hope she enjoyed all the gifts the team and i sent

yourprivate she loved every single one, thank you!

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #mark webber x reader #mark webber one shot #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mclaren team principal!reader

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sandwitchstories · 20 days ago

Text

Stoned and Boned

It's been a while since I posted any new smut hasn't it? I also owed you all a True Form Sukuna x Reader fic to celebrate 250+ followers…Well, here you go, my fellow heathens! Come get your dinner!

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: This story would not exist without @osunism and ou equally stoned and horny minds! Muse, you were my muse!!🤣 (Side note: You guys should check out their works! They are incredibly talented)

Additional: Kiseru pipes were used to smoke tobacco, not weed, but pot usage was common in the Heian era. In this fic Sukuna smoked it out of a kiseru because I said so

Summary: A completely self indulgent smut fic of reader getting stoned with Sukuna while they fuck.

WC: 2400+

CW: MDNI, Marijuana usage, recreational pot usage, getting stoned during sex, shotgunning pot smoke, Fem reader, afab terms used to describe readers body parts, cunnilingus, blow jobs, Sukuna has 2 dicks, fingering, anal, double penetration, p in v sex, Sukuna's belly mouth - for a full list of warnings please check out the AO3 link!

Divider by me -DO NOT USE

“Go on,” Sukuna’s deep voice slid over your skin like you longed for his fingers to be doing.

You did as he instructed, untying your robe and letting it fall to the floor, leaving you standing bare before him. With a devious little smirk on your lips you got on the bed, crawling towards him in a slow teasing way. His gaze openly devoured the sight of you.

You settled down on your knees between strong, thick, tattooed thighs, taking in the sight of the King of Curses sprawled out naked before you with his head leaned back on the pile of pillows behind him. You ran your fingers lightly, teasingly, up his thick thighs. Gods, was he gorgeous.

Sukuna had a lazy grin on his face as he watched you through hooded eyes. He had a hand behind his head and two more lying lazily by his side. But it was the fourth hand that had your full attention.

You licked your lips as you watched his large hand fisting and stroking both of his hard cocks as he took in your every move. You met his gaze, the look in his eyes making your pussy clench. “Let me.”

Sukuna grinned, letting go of his cocks and gesturing with his open palm towards his cocks. “By all means.”

You leaned forward, you moved one hand to brace near his side, the other took over stroking his cocks. Even though your hand was too small to wrap around them both fully, you had mastered the art of jacking your husband off long ago. You leaned forward and began to slowly kiss up his body. You smiled up at him when you stopped to press a kiss to his belly mouth, making both of his mouths smirk.

You continued up his body, stopping to playfully flick at his nipples a few times, eliciting a soft grunt from the man below you. You scooted him a little and leaned more over him to further your reach, You took your time mouthing and nipping at his skin, leaving little love marks in your wake, marking him as yours. He moved a hand to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb rubbing circles where it laid.

As you got to the crook of his neck you nuzzled into him, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. Gods, how you loved the intoxicating scent that was uniquely your husband mixed with the alluring scent of kyara. His hands roamed over your body as you kissed up his neck to his ear, placing a gentle kiss to his ear.

You moved to give him a kiss. Your lips met and parted several times before his tongue slid into your mouth. He moved his tongue against yours in slow but commanding movements as his large hand cupped the back of your head.

You pulled back from the kiss and gave his bottom lip a little nip. You gave his cocks a gentle squeeze. “Your kiseru is loaded for you with your favorite taima, my love. All you need to do is just lay back and let me take care of you.”

“Go on then. You know what to do.”

You kissed a trail back down his body as you scooted back on the bed to be able to get to your destination. You kept stroking his cocks as you kissed each of his thighs on their markings. You leaned your mouth forward, your tongue swiping over one of his balls before taking it into your mouth.

The smell of the taima being lit caused your gaze to flick up to Sukuna, watching him take a long drag of the relaxing herb. He reached down a free hand, gripping your hair and pulling you up from his sac. He pressed your mouth to his bottom cock, moaning softly when your tongue instantly shot out of your mouth and swiped up the sensitive flesh of the underside of his cock.

You kept your mouth open with your tongue out, flat and accessible. Your hands moved to brace on his thighs. Tingles of arousal spread through your veins as he lazily dragged you up and down his cock, his head back relaxed and enjoying very second.

Sukuna pulled at your hair, guiding you upwards until he had your pretty little mouth hovering over the swollen tips of his large, thick cocks. With one of his other hands he dragged his cocks against you, spreading the pre on your lips and chin. You opened your mouth and let him press you down on his top cock.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

You began to bob your head up and down in a torturously slow manner, like you had all the time in the world. As you sucked his cock, you left more spit behind with each pass, allowing you to take him deeper until your nose was pressed against him. His cock settled into your throat and he held you in place, almost whimpering when you swallowed around him. It felt incredible to have your mouth and throat wrapped around his cock.

“You look beautiful like that. Exquisite,” he said, still smoking his pipe. “Your pretty, filthy little mouth knows just what to do.”

You grinned around his cock at the praise and began to move up and down the hard, hot velvet lengths of his flesh. You worked at alternating cocks and switching between stroking his lengths, taking him into your mouth, occasionally giving your jaw a break and using your tongue to trace over the striped patterns of his curse markings that decorated both of his cocks. You glanced up at him to see him taking a long drag of his pipe.

“Come here,” he said, his hand again in your hair pulling you up his body until your face hovered over his. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, eyes closing when his lips fixed to yours and he blew the earthy flavored smoke into your mouth. You inhaled deeply, enjoying both the experience and the flavor as it filled your lungs. You tilted your head back to breathe out slowly, the action allowing Sukuna access to mouth at your neck.

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held him close as his teeth sank into the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder. “Oh, shit, Suk…”

He grinned and chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the bite he had just left. He moved his head and took another deep drag from the kiseru and motioned you forward, repeating the previous process. There was just something so sexy to him about you getting high off of the smoke he blew into your mouth. It was another pleasure he alone got to give you. He alone got to watch you lose all inhibitions and give in to anything that popped into your mind. That knowledge made his cocks twitch.

He gave you a slow, deep kiss before pulling you back with a firm grip in your hair and giving you a smirk. He nipped your bottom lip before releasing his hold on your hair. “As you were.”

With a slight daze you moved back down his body, returning your lips to his cocks. He couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked as your mouth stretched around each of his cocks in turn.

Soon he was once again directing your movements, having you now take his top cock slow and deep. You wrapped your hand around his bottom cock, stroking it in time..

“That’s it, precious one. Just like that… Just a little more…” He babbled as he used your mouth to get himself off. “Shit, keep doing that…You can do it…You want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Mmmhmm,” you enthusiastically replied around his cock.

He groaned and began working his hips against your mouth, fucking his hard cock into your mouth while your other hand milked his bottom cock. “Fuck, beautiful. Here it comes… Be a good girl and don’t let a drop go to waste.”

You loved to watch him cum. You loved the way his eyes rolled back and clenched shut, the way his stomach muscles tightened. The feeling of his cock twitching and unloading in your throat sent a throbbing desire to your empty cunt.

His bottom cock erupted at the same time, painting your chest in generous splatters of warm, white. You smiled as you pulled off his cock with a pop. He opened one eye and glanced down at you. You opened your mouth to show him your empty tongue.

“Good girl.”

You grabbed a towel you had thrown on the bed earlier, wiping his cum off of your tits. You gasped when his large, calloused hands grabbed onto your hips and moved you right to where he wanted you. A shiver ran through you as you realized just where he had positioned you.

The feeling of his belly tongue lolling out and leisurely stroking through your slick folds was incredible. It was so wide, and thick, so warm and flexible. The things that tongue could do inside your cunt were absolutely sinful.

Sukuna’s fingers gripped your hips harder and pressed you down. He licked stripes up and down your slit before using the tip to tease the very edges of your leaking hole and giving you just an occasional little dip of the tip.

He chuckled at the frustrated whimper you let out. “What’s the matter, precious one?”

You shivered as the tip of his belly tongue gave your clit a hard flick. “You are teasing me, ya big meanie.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You want me to give you more?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He was only too happy to oblige. “Then be a good girl and ride it.”

You sat up straighter, bracing your hands on his chest. The shift in positions gave him the perfect angle he needed. He began to work the thick appendage into your eager cunt.

You moaned and closed your eyes as he worked his tongue in and out of your hot, creamy tunnel. Your nails dug into his chest and you pressed yourself down against him, grinding your pussy against him as the tongue inside your cunt rolled and unrolled, slowly thrusting into your gummy walls.

“Eyes open. You know the rules.” Your eyes shot open and your gaze locked with all 4 of his. You began to move your hips, rocking against him, keeping your movements slow and intentional, grinding your so sensitive clit against him. “Feels so good, Suk.”

Sukuna set to work using his four arms to his advantage. One of his thumbs found its way between your folds, taking over stroking your clit as his belly tongue worked your cunt even more open for him. Another hand took up residency on your chest. The devious man you married conjured a mouth on his large palm, sucking in your nipple harshly and giving it a nip and tug. A third hand cupped the back of your head while his fourth brought the kiseru to his lips.

As he had done before he pulled your mouth to his, shotgunning the gratifying mist into your mouth, watching your eyes get a little more dilated and glossy. He set the pipe down, your movements relaxed enough to tell him you were right where he wanted you. He let you sit up, the hand on the back of your head now joining the other on your currently vacant breast.

Sukuna swiped a finger on his free hand through the saliva and arousal soaking your thighs and carefully slid his hand over the swell of your as before sliding between the twin globes to begin teasing open the tight muscle hidden there. He grinned as you shuddered, staying still momentarily with your jaw hanging just the slightest bit low as you took in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Keep movin’,” Sukuna said as he carefully worked a second finger into your ass with the aid of the juices spreading on his abdomen.

You did as he said, your movements getting faster and sloppier as you neared your orgasm. “Suk… gon…gon… gonna cum…”

“You have been a good girl, haven’t you?” He smirked as you made an affirmative noise, nodding your head quickly, a pleading look in your glazed eyes. “Go ahead. Cum.”

Your orgasm rocked through your body, setting nerves ablaze and making your pretty little cunt clamp down on his belly tongue, still inside you, lapping up every drop of your honey he possibly could. You slumped forward against his warm, solid body as you panted, twitching and coming down from a powerful orgasm.

Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He kissed the top of your head, giving you a few moments to rest in his arms. He captured your lips before turning you both so you were on your side facing him.

He hiked one of your legs over his hip. He rubbed his cocks up and down your weeping, sensitive slit, gathering a slick coating on the sensitive heads of his weeping cocks.

He easily slid the head of his top cock into your waiting pussy. His other hand reached over your thigh to line his cock up with your impossibly tight ass and he began slow rocks of his hips, feeding you inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside both of your holes. The stretch was delicious and you were so fucking full.

You locked fingers with him on the arm above resting above your heads while the other buried in his hair to pull him closer for a heated kiss. You began to move your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust as his cocks bullied your holes and the hand he had cupping your ass guided your speed.

“That’s it, precious one,” he praised, sucking on your bottom lip.

“Feels so good…” you moaned, pussy and ass clenching on his cocks and making the large man in your arms damn near whimper.

“Keep taking it just like that… Keep going, precious one,” Sukuna said, pulling you flush against him and nuzzling into your shoulder, inhaling deeply as his hips continued to roll at that maddeningly slow but somehow comforting lazy pace. He kissed the skin of your neck, scraping it with his teeth. He was absolutely gone - pussy drunk and high as fuck. He licked up the column of your neck and nipped your ear lobe. He kissed the shell of your ear and said in a soft, husky voice, “Don’t stop.”

As if you had any plans to that. Pfft!

#ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #true form sukuna #sukuna has 2 dicks #that's canon #never beta read #ain't nobody got time for that #was that too millenial of me #sandwitchstories

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palabraasinnecesarias · 1 month ago

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five times ranma didn’t say i love you and the one time he didn’t need to: (this was the time he didn't need to)

ao3 | ff.net | ship: ranma/akane | rating: general audience | words: 8,889

summary

Ranma and Akane throughout their relationship in which they wondered about each other, and the one time they didn’t need to anymore.

a/n: this is JUST the ending part of the longer fic btw [words: 2,331]

“Okay. Okay,” Akane released a deep breath as she closed her eyes, taking a moment to ease her mind and body as she sat with crossed legs atop her bed. “Just walk over to him. Mistletoe over his head, and then kiss him.” Right, as if it were that easy – otherwise she wouldn't be such a nervous wreck.

According to Nabiki, after talking to Auntie Saotome and Kasumi, they were to be wed by Spring. They, being she and Ranma, of course. She was fine with it, had come to terms with the whole situation long ago . All she had asked of her father and Auntie Saotome had been to wait after her university's graduation, which was up coming the following semester; they had fulfilled the end of their bargain by agreeing.

Naturally, after the misfortunes that came about their last attempted wedding so many years ago, this wedding would be hushed with only immediate family attending. Afterwards, at Auntie Saotome’s insistence, they’d throw a larger celebration to announce the union of both schools and families.

Ranma had trained all night at the dojo after the rest of their lives had been arranged that evening during dinner, as if it were another checked off task on the to-do list, and she had wondered if he was upset at her. Maybe not at her, but the whole ordeal. But then, it all continued as it was. He’d bump her when racing down the stairs at Kasumi’s call for dinner or battle as to who had first dibs on the bathroom when they’d reach it at the same time.

But then Nabiki asked, oh, how she had hated that damn question , “Have you two even kissed?” Of course not!

Their relationship had remained so normal, sometimes she’d forget the wedding was actually happening and she’d have to kiss him and live with him and introduce him as her husband. Although, she didn’t have to kiss him, but oh god did she want to. Making herself think about it, she didn’t want their official kiss to be on their wedding night.

Her cheeks flushed quickly, imitating variant berries as she cupped them, shaking her head embarrassingly just thinking about it – their wedding night.

Akane jumped slightly at the sudden knock at her door, starling her as she called for them to come in.

“Hey,” Ranma popped his head in, holding a mug steaming as he offered it to her, “Kasumi sends some hot chocolate. The climate’s dropping and she wants to keep us warm. Considering it’s almost Christmas, she insisted on hot chocolate,” he smirked, inviting himself to take a seat on the bed next to her.

She could feel the scrambling of her insides jumble and knot within her abdomen when she felt his shoulders press against hers. They were both wearing long sleeves, but nonetheless, their shoulders were touching. She took the mug from his hand, thanking him under her breath as she looked at the chocolate filled mug with a soft smile, feeling like such a child with a crush.

She held a tight grip on the handle, breathing in slowly and then breathing out slower. Just do it. Right? No, that wouldn’t be right. Also, Ranma would stop it before she even got close to him, considering his agility. Bad plan. Bad idea. She chewed her lower lip nervously.

“Everything alright?” His sudden inquiry pulled her out of thought, and she glanced up at him with one raised eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Well, for starters,” he sighed rubbing his shoulder against hers, such familiarity cozying her further, and her smile only widen, “you have hot chocolate and haven’t taken a sip.”

He had noticed her distracted face as soon as he had walked in, unable to mask it as quickly as she would have wanted, and he was curious. Worried, too, but she didn’t need to know that.

“What if I wasn’t craving hot chocolate?” She joked with a cocked eyebrow, lifting the mug slowly to her lips to take a slow taste as to test how hot it was.

“You’re a dork.”

She only grinned.

Half done with her mug, Akane placed it on her desk, adjusting herself comfortably to be facing him rather than sitting sideways. They had sat together for quite some time, chatting, and one topic led to another and now they were discussing how pressing and overindulged his mother was. Something she was glad they could both agree on.

“If it was up to your mom, we’d be getting married tomorrow,” Akane grinned at the absurdity of it all. It felt incongruous sitting together knowing they’d to be married in just four months when they hadn’t even officially kissed yet . Yet impling that the moment was to come, and what better time than the present, right? She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about it, their nonexistent kiss, but he was right there and she was sitting so close. She could just lean foward, and maybe he’d allow it.

Maybe he wanted to kiss her, too.

Her laughter decreased softly, clearing her throat as she watched the pigtail wearing man drag the palm of his hands up and down his face with seemingly frustration.

“I know, I know,” he replied, a sigh of his own before looking over at her, noticing the intense stare she was offering. One that told him she was thinking about something, brewing an idea, but wasn’t quite sure how to drag it out of her. “You sure there isn’t anything ya’ wanna talk about?” He tried again, shimming at her side, hoping his persistence would get him just a bit further.

“Well,” she pursed her lips, glancing to the left and then to the right, as if pondering about something so nonessential, like an outfit she’d sport to a classmate’s holiday party.

Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP.

“Well?”

And then he watched her lean towards her desk, watched her open the top drawer and pull out a plant of some sort, as she held it delicately. And then she brought it towards, spreading her palm as the small stem laid on her flat hand in between them, watching him stare at it.

“I was thinking...and I think we should...?” She gulped the inventible lump clogged at the back of her throat not letting her finish her question as Ranma’s eyebrows furrowed together, curious as to what she was getting at.

“Should what?”

Akane groaned mildly, an eyebrow of her own twitching at his ignorance, “You’re really going to make me say it?” Irritation was getting the best of her, but mainly because she already found this embarrassing enough.

But they were to be married; they were to share a lifetime of embarrassing moments, right?

“Kiss.”

She blinked a few times, staring at the mistletoe laying on her palm, like that was the kiss itself.

“Kiss?” He repeated, and this time she looked up to find him pondering, tapping his index finger against his chin and she couldn’t help but chuckle at just how dumb he looked.

“We don’t have to,” Akane sighed, pulling away, but almost instantly both of her wrists were gripped and tugged forward by Ranma’s hands, and suddenly she forgot how to breathe.

Ranma must have yanked her a tad too hard because she was now only centimeters away from his face, and she could see his light eyes scanning about her face as she tried to keep herself calm. His messy fridge just reached his nose bridge, and easily caught a whiff of her floral shampoo on him.

“You want to kiss me?” He asked, and that was enough to knock her out of her daze. It wasn’t a lie, but she figured his question was coming from his egotistic self, rather than curiosity.

“I was saying,” Akane continued, gently trying to push herself away but not successfully releasing the grip of his hands around her wrist, “maybe it’d be a good idea to kiss now,” she swallowed as Ranma softly tugged her once more, “rather...rather than wait...for the...wedding.”

“Okay.” He breathed in, his half-lidded eyes watching her carefully. His voice was low, and she almost missed his verbal agreement at how distracted she was by his eyelashes pulling her in.

“Okay?” It was that easy?

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his face so close that the tip of their noses skimmed faintly, “if ya’ wanna.”

“Do you...do you want to?” Her voice was so delicate, it seemed, hushed as she waited for his answer. The question itself was insecure, and full of hope, and could easily break her. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to ask so early, but rather two months before the wedding. The thought itself sounded so absurd in her mind, she wanted to laugh.

“I mean, I don’t mind if ya’ don’t,” he answered truthfully, and she scanned his face for any sarcasm, any disgust, and malice, but there was none. He watched her in wonder, with curiosity, making her feel dainty.

“I don’t mind.” She replied quickly.

And then she closed her eyes waiting for him, and he looked down at her, taking an extra moment to take in all the soft features of her round face with her glowing cheeks and curved nose. The hold around her wrist lessened, and instead he pushed his palms higher around her lower arm, as if to ground himself before kissing her.

It was timid, the way he brushed his lips against hers; like feathery light touches, almost tentative about kissing her. But then he pushed just a tad further into her, and his hands lightly squeezed her arms. It felt good. He figured he was supposed to pull away after just one kiss, but he found himself wanting to continue kissing her.

And maybe she did, too, because he caught the way her mouth opened just a bit when he pushed for another. It was slow, and very new, but there was a tingling sensation vibrating from his mouth down his neck and up his face that kept him wanting more. It was a good new.

Her lips were softer than he’d imagine they’d ever be (not that he thought about her lips often), and as he continued kissing her, they were beginning to burn, in a good way; in a great way.

He could feel her hands reach for his face, each fingertip almost stinging as they pressed onto his cheeks, easily melting against his skin. Had he known that kissing Akane felt this good, he would have done it a long time ago. Her palms smoothed across his skin towards his ears, dragging themselves down to settle on his neck, edging him to pull her closer.

This was supposed to be a chaste kiss, right?

He felt her nudge away momentarily, and he took that as a sign to pull away instantly because otherwise he wouldn’t. And when he did so, it took him a moment to open his eyes to look down at her already gazing up at him. She was breathing heavily, as was he, and her lips were reddish, like cherries. And she looked so beautiful, and he could admit that to himself and to her if she wanted to hear it.

And then she laughed a breathy laugh, one that kept her smile intact with a toothy grin, her eyes searching his as she found herself compelled to say, “That was a good kiss.”

Ranma chuckled, not sure why they found the situation amusing, but nonetheless refreshing. “Good.” He could feel the warmth easily diminish as she pulled her hands away from his skin, and he went to catch them, holding her hands in between his, “Are we...can we...?”

Akane’s eyebrows pricked up at his unfinished question, allowing him a moment before she asked, “Do you want to kiss me again?” This time it was her egotistic-self rubbing it on his face, but she couldn’t help but find herself suddenly so sheepish.

He knew she could see his ruddy face as soon as she was done asking, but man, did he want to kiss her that way again if she’d let him.

“Ain’t that the sort of thing people do when they’re in love?” His question had been rushed out, in an attempt to remedy his embarrassment, with pure genuity. And then he heard himself ask it. “What I mean–”

“Ranma,” Akane giggled, her hands pushing strands of hair away from his face, her touch very soft and tender as she looked at him, “you can kiss me any time you want.”

“Any time?”

She nodded slowly; a sly grin plastered on her face as she leaned closer to him, enough to peck him into another kiss, had he pushed himself forward.

#writing has been a little tougher nowadays so instead i humbly offer a piece of an already published one u.u #also sorry it's like past xmas guysssss..im sure not everyone celebrates the holidays but it's still cute and sweet and im sure you'll enjo #this is just ranma and akane being dorks and lovey and it's just them being soft with each other hehehe #it from a longer fic if y'all wanna check it out too uwu #ranma #ranma fanfiction #ranma saotome #akane tendo #ranma x akane #rankane #ranking fanfiction #rankane Christmas fan fiction #palabraasinnecesarias #palabrasinnecesarias

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