#can you tell I’m obsessed with this jacket.

[almostfoxglove]

ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

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summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart. 

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction. 

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt. 

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee. 

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

-

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.” 

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration. 

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become. 

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body. 

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance. 

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you. 

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves. 

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in. 

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code. 

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur. 

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine. 

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience. 

Deep down, you know. 

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it. 

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita. 

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional. 

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing. 

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later. 

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief. 

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes. 

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose. 

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely. 

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell. 

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately. 

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person. 

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him. 

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made. 

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about. 

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him. 

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood. 

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific. 

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son. 

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling. 

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver. 

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore. 

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely. 

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times. 

He was done, he wanted out.

-

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

[tonguetyd]

GUYS.

GUYS GUYS GUYS.

ITS NOT JUST THE KEYCHAIN. HES GOT AT LEAST 3 FAN GIFTS ON THE JACKET.

Including the 3 of Swords *AND* the rune patch!!! WHICH with those two in particular means the designer had to specifically leave room for them??? So they were worked into the design special?

And idk that’s just got me feeling some kinda way

[kacievvbbbb]

I’m not someone that particularly cares about a ship being canon or not, in fact I would rather the media I consume have no romance at all (giving my blog confusing yes I know)

But there is something about the canon ties between Shanks and Mihawk that drives me feral with need to see what their whole deal is.

Because like there are so many little inconsequential details that when taking separately seem pathetic and weak. But then put together it feels like it paints the picture of a larger undeniable connection and understanding between two wildly different men.

The fact that their main color is both red (Mihawk’s is a more wine dark red than Shanks’ bright red and a little more “subtle” given that Shanks is literally called red hair) but even then their main symbols, their identifying features, are red! Mihawk’s eyes and Shanks hair (yes while I love the gold and think that’s better I cannot ignore the fact that Oda consistently colors in Mihawk’s eyes red even though the gold is infinitely more popular)

They have the same birthday, are practically the same height, both with the promises to our two main protagonists to meet them at the top with a parting “gift”, both serve as a mentor to the protagonist (mihawk literally thought zoro how to kill him 😭), both with the bird(ish) iconography.

The fact that Mihawk, Mihawk! A man whose introduction was that he didn’t care much about anything and caused destruction on a whim, cares enough about what Shanks thinks to mentally apologize before trying to kill luffy (what the fuck).

The fact that whitebeard felt the need to reference his duel with Mihawk in his conversation with Shanks, despite not really being very relevant to the conversation and the fact that this is the first we’ve seen shanks in years and it is brought up in the same context as his relationship with Buggy (an already established relationship) reveals his relationship to Roger seems to point to the fact that this duel between Mihawk and Shanks is an important relationship to shanks. It couldn’t just be to show strength because he was about to clash with whitebeard the strongest man. It’s also hard to notice that those two relationships didn’t end particularly well for shanks.

Also the fact that it was Mihawk out of every character , Mihawk that brought luffy’s bounty to Shanks. Something he obviously knew would mean a lot to him. I used to think the scene was just there to show us how big a deal Shanks actually is like look at that fun childish alcoholic gang inspired our main hero? He’s actually a super big deal and he used to spar with the strongest character by far we had seen at that point (it wasn’t even close) and they fought on equal footing. It added a new layer of mystery to Shanks.

But it’s also the fact that even now with Mihawk’s bounty Shanks was mentioned and he’s the only one who this was mentioned for. Crocodile is just for his df and intelligence and they don’t mention that he literally tried and almost succeeded in subjugating a country and he was beat by luffy “or smoker given how many marines actually know the truth” even buggy who was literally Shanks’ sworn brother under the pirate king doesn’t get a mention like that. But Shanks and this duel is so integral to Mihawk’s character that it’s mentioned along with the only other long lasting fact we know about him and that is that he is the World’s Strongest Swordsman. Isn’t that fucking insane.

And like I feel insane scrapping all these details together as proof of something because they are all (besides the duel) the barest bones of a connection but god it is actually driving me insane.

And I’m not saying Mishanks is going to become canon or that it should or that I even particularly want it too. What I do want is to see how deeply these two are connected. What are these red strings of fate tying them to each other. Why can’t apparently ten years of little contact sever it? I swear to god if it’s actually nothing much I will lose my fucking mind. If nothing ever comes of all of this I will actually go insane. How can some people look at this and not see foreshadowing!?!?!!

[i-like-loserz]

my needy boyfriend

synopsis: mingi is kind of obsessed with you. it's adorable really...

pairing: sub!mingi x reader

warnings: SMUT (18+), needy boyfriend!mingi, taunting, unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, slight dacryphilia

word count: 1k

note: mingi gives off such himbo energy and i need to reflect my neediness in him :D

part II | masterlist

Mingi is just so easy. 

With a mere suggestive look sent his way, a flirty little smile, or a quick peek of your cleavage, he grows achingly hard under his pants before he even processes what’s happening. 

His brows cinch together worryingly as he attempts to strategically hold a book or his jacket in front of the desperation pressing against his pants.

He looks so pitifully pretty when he meets your stare, brown eyes silently begging you to take care of him so he doesn't have to walk around like that all day. 

Every night his big hands shakily ghost over the softness of your thighs like he’s apprehensive to touch something so precious. Your poor boyfriend can barely handle the barest touches before he’s on his knees, begging for more.

When you finally give him what he wants, he looks a mess under you with his fluffy hair, kiss-swollen lips, and pants barely shoved halfway down his legs because of how eager he was. 

You’re completely bare on top of him, skin hot against his as you stare down at the pretty sight of your flushed boyfriend, panting sweetly under you. Mingi melts against your body with a whiny moan, hips desperately rutting against yours as you pin him against the couch.

Your hot mouth drags against his sensitive neck as you grind down on him. With each slow drag of your hips, his cock slips in between the slick folds of your pussy, just barely pressing against your entrance, but never fully pushing in.

You can tell by the low choked out moans and the subtle sheen of his teary eyes that he’s already overwhelmed by your teasing.

“Baby, p-please stop – I’m about to –”

You giggle at his pathetic whimpers begging you to stop before he cums from the mere touch of your pussy. He hasn’t even pushed in yet.

You dip down to capture his lips, hands cradling his jaw as you pull him closer. His body practically vibrates as he eagerly returns the kiss, his mouth clumsily moving against yours. 

“If you’re gonna cum, do it inside of me…” You whisper against his mouth, reaching between your heated bodies to line him up to your entrance. You feel him twitch in your hand as he processes what you just said. 

“Y-you’d let me do that?” He’s breathless as he looks up at you with wide adoring eyes. His chest rises rapidly as he anticipates your next move. 

“Only if you want to, baby.” You coo as you slowly sit yourself down onto his cock. 

“Yes —” He whines, his hands immediately moving to wrap around your waist, pressing firmly against your softness as he struggles to get used to the euphoric feeling of your pussy squeezing around him. “I-I do – please, let me.”

“Fill me up then~”

Mingi’s hips stutter as they buck upwards against you, seeking that impossible closeness that he craves insatiably when it comes to you. His cock sinfully fills you up until your legs are shaking as you struggle to hold yourself up.

Despite his soft and needy nature, your boyfriend is not small by any means. If he wanted to, he could have you pinned against the wall, screaming his name for hours at a time as he makes you cum around his cock. 

His hand could easily wrap around your throat and leave beautiful marks on your skin – but that’s not his style. Though he regularly leaves you feeling sore whenever he pushes into you (which is often), Mingi is the one who falls apart and begs for more. 

“Fffuck, you’re so wet for me, baby,” he pants, staring up at you with pure infatuation in his eyes, “you’re so pretty – mmhn, so fucking p-pretty…”

He fucks up into you with fervor, addicted to the feeling of your tight pussy fluttering around him and the way your nails scrape desperately against the bare skin of his chest and shoulders. You feel so good he can barely think. 

“C’mon, Mingi,” You roll your hips against him, pressing your hands against his firm chest for support. “Fill me up and give me a baby.”

“A-anything – anything for you, baby.” He sounds wrecked as he attempts to answer you.He’s barely thrusting into you as he starts to reach his climax, but you’re still moving above him. 

You moan loudly as you attempt to grind against him, his cock drags deliciously against that special spot inside of you. The closeness of your body presses his pelvis directly against your clit, adding another layer of stimulation to the mix.

"O-oh my god, Mingi!"

Sharp bouts of ecstasy are marked with every move you make. You tremble against him in pleasure as heat takes over your body. Stuttering out a moan, you clench around him as an orgasm abruptly rushes through you.

Your back arches as your climax fizzles through every nerve in your body, and Mingi can only groan at the feeling as you push him to the edge. 

"Y-yes yes yes yes..." He breathes out barely audible words as he fucks your through your high. He’s still so eager, even with your fucked-out, pliant body now laying over him.

With every small thrust he makes, you suck him back into your wet pulsing pussy, drawing out another ruined whine from his pretty pink lips. The most he can do is hold you down onto him and force you to take all of him as his cock twitches wildly inside of you. 

You caress his messy hair fondly, pushing it off his forehead so you can watch as his eyes roll back in pleasure.

He cries out and a familiar warmth shoots into you several times, completely painting your insides. You’re so full that it starts to drip out -- down the sides of his cock and onto the sheets. 

He's panting under you, completely ruined by his orgasm, hips still flexing uncontrollably against yours. You lovingly comfort him by pressing small kisses over his heated face and along his neck.

"You came a lot, baby~" You slowly lift your hips until he's barely inside of you so he can feel his cum drip from your overstuffed pussy.

“Fuck, I made a mess again…” Mingi says sheepishly, biting his lower lip as he looks at what he's done.

"Clean it up."

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem Reader Part 3

Headcanon: Your relationship with Damian was good. But he decided that it was time for you to meet his family...

Notes: Reader is Dick's ex. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Damian sat at the grand dining table, surrounded by his family, each of them indulging in the rare moment of peace that only the Wayne family could afford. Bruce, as always, was silently observing his children while Jason, still in his worn leather jacket, slouched in his chair, seemingly bored by the usual family gathering.

“Next week,” Damian finally said, breaking the silence in his usual cool tone.

Everyone turned their attention to him, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, sensing something was coming.

“I’ll be inviting my future wife to dinner,” Damian continued, his voice steady, but with a flicker of something almost smug in his eyes. “She’ll be here next Wednesday.”

The rest of the family went silent for a moment, their gazes flicking to each other. Alfred raised an eyebrow, and Jason blinked in surprise.

"Wait, what?" Jason half-laughed, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're finally letting go of your stupid obsession, huh? You found someone who's not going to make you brood in the corner for hours?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed as his hand clenched around the edge of the table. Jason had been poking fun at him for years, always teasing him about his quiet obsession with you, the one person Damian had never let go of, even after years.

"I’m not obsessed," Damian muttered, glaring at his older brother. "You wouldn't understand."

Jason smirked. "Yeah, well, color me surprised. I didn't think you'd ever let another woman near you."

Damian only shot him another sharp look before getting up from the table, his cloak swirling behind him as he made his way to you. Jason's comment had struck a nerve, but he wasn't about to let anyone know it. Not yet.

When Damian found you later that evening, he was already planning the next steps in his mission to make you his—officially this time. You were in your apartment, tending to the plants you loved, when he knocked on your door. Without waiting for an invitation, he entered, his presence suddenly filling the room.

“What’s going on?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, already sensing something was off.

Damian’s lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, crossing the room toward you. “Next week, I’m having dinner with my family. You’ll be joining us.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not having dinner with your family.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you will.”

“Damian,” you practically barked, “No! I'm not doing this. I’m Dick’s ex. There’s no way I’m going to walk into your family dinner while he’s sitting there. No way."

Damian remained unfazed, his smile remaining in place, though a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes as he watched you argue.

“You’re not listening beloved,” he said calmly. He had grown taller than you in the years since, taller than Dick now, a fact he didn’t fail to take advantage of. As you continued to protest, he reached forward, gently placing one hand on your waist.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you,” Damian said, his voice soft but firm. His fingers tightened ever so slightly as he pulled you closer, not letting you escape from his grasp.

Your protests faltered when his lips descended on yours. You punched his chest half-heartedly, but it was no use—he wasn’t letting go. Slowly, you gave in, closing your eyes as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled away, his expression softened, though his tone remained authoritative. “You’re going to wear something pretty,” he murmured, his eyes scanning your face with a look that could melt anyone. “You’ll be beautiful, and you’ll do as I say. Understand?”

Your lips parted, still slightly breathless from the kiss, but you were too stubborn to admit it. “You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” he interrupted. “I will pick the dress. Don’t argue with me.”

The day of dinner came, and as much as you wanted to fight Damian’s demands, a small part of you knew you couldn’t. You dressed carefully, though the idea of stepping into the Wayne family’s world again filled you with a strange unease. Still, you found yourself in the dress Damian had picked—a gorgeous emerald dress that fit you in all the right places.

As you adjusted the zipper, a soft knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Damian entered, looking every bit the heir to the Wayne legacy—suit sharp, hair perfectly in place, and that confident smirk you were starting to despise… and like.

“Let me,” he said softly, stepping behind you. You barely had time to process his words before his hand was at your back, gently pulling the zipper up. You stood still, feeling the heat rise to your face as he leaned closer, pressing his lips to your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed his way up to your neck.

“You look beautiful beloved,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin. He turned your face toward him, his gaze softening as he kissed your eyelid. He met your gaze with an unsettling intensity.

He kissed your neck softly, his lips leaving a trail that made your heart flutter in ways you didn’t want to admit. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

You blinked, trying to hide the heat in your face, but it was hard when he was so close, his lips barely grazing your skin with every word. “Damian, please,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes tracing your features with a satisfied gleam. “When we get there, you’re going to smile and behave. You’re going to look stunning and make them all understand why I picked you.”

He smirked again, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low. You barely had time to nod before he led you out of the apartment, his arm wrapped around your waist, the night unfolding before you.

The atmosphere at Wayne Manor was tense the moment you walked in. Everyone—Alfred, Bruce, and Jason—turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Jason’s jaw dropped first, his eyes wide with realization.

“Wait… Y/N?” he blurted out, eyes flicking between you and Damian.

You froze, your gaze meeting Dick’s across the room. His face lit up with a mixture of shock and delight.

His face softened, a surprised grin spreading across his face. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Are you… are you back?”

He looked genuinely happy to see you, like he thought this moment would come eventually. But that happiness quickly faltered when he saw the way Damian was looking at you, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

But Damian, standing behind you, didn't give Dick a chance to finish his sentence. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he glared at his older brother.

Damian’s smirk was deadly as he placed his hand possessively on the small of your back, guiding you to your seat. “Back?” Damian repeated with a sneer. “What do you mean by that Grayson?”

Dick stiffened, the smile fading from his face. Bruce looked between the two, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on here, Damian?”

Damian’s voice was calm, almost smug as he leaned closer to you, his hand still at your back, possessive but gentle. “What is so hard to understand? I said I will bring my girlfriend, didn't I?”

The dinner started off awkwardly. Bruce, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation in a neutral direction. But it was clear that the elephant in the room was you—and how Damian had finally, and dramatically, claimed you as his.

Just as everyone was simmering in discomfort, Bruce suddenly broke the silence. “So… are you two planning on getting married anytime soon?” he asked, his tone casual, though there was a sharp edge to it.

You blinked at him. “What?”

Damian, without skipping a beat, gripped your hand a little tighter and looked at you with that confident, almost predatory gaze. “Yes, in the near future.”

The entire room went silent. Jason nearly choked on his water, while Tim looked like he was processing the chaos. Dick’s face went blank, the surprise evident in his eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your mind racing.

Damian just smiled. “No. I’m not.”

And the entire Wayne family? They were left in stunned silence.

Part 1. Part 2.

Should I make a part 4?

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[princesssmars]

you sometimes forget how… slightly obsessive, violet could be. nsfw.

when you were younger you had a love hate relationship with her tendency to become so completely fixated on something. staying up for hours at night thinking about their next score, holding a grudge for years against anyone who got piss drunk and pissed off vander in the bar, planning and fidgeting over the perfect way to ask you out for weeks before you finally took the step yourself.

even if it got her into danger, got her and her siblings into a temporary struggle that made your heart stall with the thought of nearly losing them, you always reminded her that you thought her fixation on things was cute, and a useful tool about half of the time.

(you even said that the trait reminded you of powder, always blabbering to you for as long as she could talk about her new ideas for gadgets and bombs. the girl was overjoyed in sharing something in common with her big sister, immediately climbing on her back to ramble about something new.)

but then you actually you lost her. you lost all of them. and you wished you had told her that that insecurity she had, all the insecurities she had, were stupid and inconsequential to how perfect you thought she was.

but maybe you’ll get the chance to tell her (and tell jinx that yeah, you were right, i did start seeing ghosts too) because a scarily realistic replica of your ex is standing in front of you and before you can shoo it away she’s hugging you so tight you think your ribs will break.

you follow as ekko gives her the tour of the firelights base, admiring each and every way she’s changed. she’s taller, obviously stronger, wearing a prison uniform that you don’t if you’re allowed to say looks good on her and a red jacket she stole from some guy because of course she did. you stifle a laugh as she tells the story and she smiles at you, indiscreetly wrapping your hand in hers.

it’s obvious by the look on his face ekko is so going to tease you about this later, but you don’t get a chance to care when she turns to you and ask where she and her enforcer friend can sleep. and janna knows you want to offer for her to sleep with you, but it’s been years and you don’t want to make her uncomfortable so you lead her and caitlyn to the newbie dorms.

but it seems like you’ve forgotten just how damn stubborn she is, because not even half an hour later a loud banging at your draws you from your bed, her flushed and nervous face shocking you into silence.

she asks to come in, but with her it’s always more like a demand then a question. you try to ignore the burning feeling of her eyes trained on you as you lead her to your bed, rolling your eyes as she aggressively flops back onto it.

“holy fuck, i haven’t been on something this soft in years. i think i’m gonna fall asleep right now.”

“i wouldn’t be mad if you did.” well, you’d be a little upset. you have so much to talk to her about everything, anything that’s happened since she disappeared. granted a lot of it was bad but there were still a few things you think would cheer her up. she’d already told you enthusiastic she was to eat jerichos again, just wait till she found out that-

you must of zoned out for a minute because you’re shocked back to reality by soft lips pressed to yours, vi’s bandaged hand cupping your cheek like you’ll fade into dust if she lets go. you mentally kick yourself in the head for not responding quicker when she pulls away and looks at you with that sad puppy look she gets.

“i, i’m sorry. it’s just, you were staring at me for a while! and it’s been so long since i’ve seen you and i don’t even know what we are or if we’re still girlfriends but you’re even more beautiful than the last time i saw you-“

you cup both of her cheeks in your hands,(maybe a little too hard) give her a second to back away if she wants, and pull her back in. her arms wrap around your waist and she lets out a whimper when your hand travels to the back of her neck to pull her closer and closer-

and now it’s around one hour? maybe two? it’s a while later, and as her hand travels back into you for the fourth time, yeah, you’re starting to remember how obsessive she could be.

“vi, baby - oh my gods, y’know you can slow down!” your voice pitches when her fingers, her beautiful long and big fingers push up against that spot inside you, her other hand keeping your hips down when you involuntarily raise them off the sheets.

“don’t think i can, princess.” she groans into your breast as she sucks another path of bruises down your chest, slate eyes amused at how your hands grip the bed like it stole from you, how your mouth opens so cutely before you bite your lips to hold back your sounds.

her mouth finally closes around your clit and the increased sensitivity from your past orgasms combined with the almost growling sound she makes when she tastes you sends you right over the edge, thighs clamping around her head as she carries you through it.

the rubbing of her rough hands over your thighs and her gentle words of praise merry drag you into the beginnings of a soft slumber.

until you can feel the damn brute lift your legs onto her shoulders and stick her tongue inside you, laughing at your shocked squeal and resumed grip on her hair.

“besides, we’ve gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

writing a drabble based on the fic you’re writing instead of finish the fic i’m such a genius like 😍😍 glad her tag is coming back but i want content coming out like a factory line ok everyone get to work 🙏🏽

[syddsatyrn]

Omg your requests are open. I've seen some of your work and it's amazing❤️

Can you do a smut with Lucifer. He's become my new obsession.

⛧Idle Time is the Devil's Play⛧ By Sydd Satyrn

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Shameless smut, fingering, swearing, fluff

⛧Words: 2.5k

⛧Notes: This was actually rather fun to write, thank you for the request! My head canon in this one is that Lucifer wears reading glasses.

The day started out on the wrong foot from the second you woke up. The dishes are piled up, laundry needs to be done, and how is there so much dust in here?! Nifty does her best to keep up but she's only one tiny person. You begin with the dishes, stack and stacks of plates and bowls, cups and flatware cover the counter. You let out a sigh of disappointment. After working for a short while, Angel Dust walks in with a surprised look on his face. “I thought you were dating the King of Hell, why are you wasting your time with chores?” The tall spider asks, holding a stack of dishes from his room. “Angel, I work here. I don't know how many times I have to tell you…” You reply with an eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, Charlie’s dreams, blah, blah, motherly nonsense. I’m just sayin’ you could totally slack off and get away with it.” He says, placing more dishes on the counter. You give him a side eye, and Angel laughs. “Chill out toots, I’m just playin’.” He says and heads back to his room. He’s right, you could slack off if you wanted to, but you felt the need to try for Charlie. You and Lucifer have been dating for a little over 6 months and within that time you’ve become rather fond of his sweet daughter and her dreams to rehabilitate sinners. So you took on a role at the hotel and did what you could to help make it possible. You wanted to impress Lucifer's daughter, maybe one day she might even see you as family, if you’re lucky.  You finally finish the dishes and take a step back and admire your handiwork. A clean sink, and counters, all the dirty dishes are now washed, dried and put away. It took a good chunk of the morning but it was worth it. The kitchen looks spotless and you decide to move onto the next chore. You tidied a few empty rooms and then delivered clean towels to each room with an occupant. You’re already running out of energy and it's only noon. “You look like you could use some coffee.” Husk says from behind the bar while wiping down the countertops. “You read my mind, Husker.” You say and take a seat at the bar. He pours you a cup of black coffee and sets it in front of you. “Thank you, you have no idea how much I need this.” “Don’t mention it” He says and returns to his countertops. Husk may seem grumpy all the time but you’ve come to know him as a rather genuine and helpful person.

You drink your coffee slowly and contemplate what you should do next. There are so many chores that need to be done, where should you even start? Nifty should be cleaning the bathrooms or taking out the trash by now. You decide to start dusting next, it shouldn't be too hard. 

After dusting the common areas, you begin on the hallways. You start at the top floor and work your way down. You hum quietly to yourself while wiping the window sills. As you turn a corner, you run into Angel Dust, and spill dusting spray all over his jacket. “Shit!” He says while wiping his jacked off with his hand, Angel looks frantic and upset, you’ve never seen him so scared. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” You immediately apologize. “Y/N, I can't find Fat Nuggets anywhere! I took my eyes off of him for one second and he disappeared! My poor baby!” Angel says, clearly in a state. He looks like he might even cry. It’s gonna be okay, we just…need to split up! I’ll head downstairs and you stay up here.”You say, trying to remain calm. Angel nods, and you both go your separate ways.

You search all the rooms on the first and second floor, the lobby, the bar, and even the basement. There is no sign of the little pig. You were sure you would find him rooting around somewhere in the kitchen but still, no Fat Nuggets. You notice the back door is slightly ajar, you definitely didn’t use that door when you were down here earlier. You open it, expecting to have solved the mystery, but still nothing. You lean against the wall and let out a defeated sigh. “Dammit, Fat Nuggets, where are you?” You say out loud. Suddenly there is a rustlin noise inside a tipped over trash can. You lift the lid and inside is a very happy looking little pig. You scoop him up and give him a big hug, he must have gottens stuck out there looking for a snack. As you carry Fat Nuggets upstairs you hear a shriek of joy coming from Angel Dust. “My baby!” He cries as you hand him over. “Don't you ever leave my side again!” He says, baby talking to the little pig while giving him a snuggle. “I owe you one, Y/N.” Angel says with a smile. “Dont worry about it, I’m just happy we found the little guy.” You gently boop the little pig’s nose. —------------ As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, a sense of tranquility settled over the hotel. The warm glow of the fading sunlight painted the walls in soft, golden hues made the place feel somewhat serene. Finding Fat Nuggets took up the rest of your afternoon and you were feeling unusually exhausted. 

 You head down to the lobby and see Nifty cleaning up the last of the dusting you did earlier.

She greets you as usual. “Good Evening, Miss Y/N! How was your day?” She pauses her cleaning and stares up at you with her single cyclops eye. “I am so worn out, Nifty. How are you?” You return, smiling down at her tiny figure.

“I’m okay. There aren't as many bugs in the hotel to squish anymore so I’m getting pretty bored.” You smile at her, Not entirely sure how to respond to that statement. She always says the wildest stuff, but you’re used to it. Alastor says she's always been pretty quirky. “You should go spend time with your boyfriend.” Nifty teases,”I’ll deal with the rest of the chores.” “Thank you, I could really use a break. Today was a mess.” You say with a sigh of relief. After walking down the long, lavish hallway to Lucifer's room. You open the door slowly, you don't want to wake him if he is asleep. The King is already in bed wearing nothing but a robe and his reading glasses. The lamp next on the bedside table is the only source of light in the room. The blonde haired man is reading a book and glances over at you when he hears you come in. “I was wondering when you’d be here.” He says with a smile on his face. He closes his book and sets it on the nightstand along with his gold rimmed glasses. “Sorry I’m late, I’ve had a really long day.” You admit as you sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh? What did you get up to today?” He asks and crawls toward you. “There was a lot to do around the hotel today, a mountain of dishes and so much cleaning. Like seriously, where does all this dust come from?! Then Angel lost Fat Nuggets and he was outside…” You ramble on and Lucifer listens intently. “Fat Nuggets?” Lucifer chuckles and cocks his head to the side. “His pet pig.” You remind him. “Oh, I see…” Lucifer places his hand on your cheek. His warm touch sends shivers down your spine. He pulls your face closer and kisses your lips gently. Your heart flutters and you kiss him back, blushing slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Lucifer laughs, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “Sounds like you need some time off. I notice you do a lot around here, you shouldn’t wear yourself out like that.” “I just want to show Charlie that I support her dream and believe in her.” Your words make Lucifer’s heart swell, the fact that you are trying so hard to impress his daughter is quite possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He smiles at you, his expression full of love and admiration. You return his smile, your face bright red. He pulls you in for a tight hug, burying his face into your hair. “You’re doing just fine, my love. You can let up a little.” He whispers in your ear, “You should let me take care of you for a couple days.” Lucifer's voice is sticky sweet, you can see why Eve was so easily swayed. You melt into his arms and he kisses the top of your head. “I know exactly what you need…” Lucifer days, his voice laced with a mischievous tone. “Do you…?” You ask and giggle at his bold statement. He reluctantly lets go of you and takes off to the bathroom connected to his room. You can hear him turn on the faucet to fill up the tub. Lucifer walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he grabs your hand and pulls you close, his eyes half lidded. He kisses your cheek and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Come with me, my dear.” He leads you to the bathroom, the tub is filled about half way with warm water. The room is filling with steam and the lights are low, a few candles are lit. The ambiance is warm and charming just like he is. Your eyes widen and you feel Lucifer hands tug at your clothes, silently telling you to take them off. Your face feels hot as you start to remove your clothing, piece by piece. You leave them in a pile on the floor, trying your best to keep your composure. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this…” You say, Lucifer smirks, pleased with himself and your reactions. He removes his robe, revealing his perfect body. He steps into the tub and turns to you.

"Well, are you coming or not?" He teases, you take his hand and slowly get in the tub with him. He sits behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. Together, you both leaned back against the edge of the tub, letting the warmth of the water soothe your weary muscles. The stress of the day melted away, you could feel your muscles relax, you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

"See? Isn't this much better?" Lucifer purrs in your ear.  

You nod and let your eyes close. You can feel him kiss your temple and you can't help but smile. “I definitely needed this…”You murmured, Lucifer's hands begin to roam your body, his hands trace down your arms. 

"You have the most beautiful skin...I can't help but touch it." He whispers and kisses your neck, you sigh softly. "And you always smell like vanilla, I adore that..."

“You flatter me, Lucifer.” You reply. He kisses the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands begin to massage your shoulders, "Are you cold?" He asks, noticing the goosebumps forming on your skin. With gentle hands, his fingertips traced delicate patterns along the contours of your skin. In the hushed ambiance, time seemed to slow, as if caught in the embrace of the moment. “No, I’m fine.” You assure him.” You’re just really good with your hands.” “Is that so?” Lucifer says with a playful tone. He can barely contain himself, the way your body responds to his touch is fascinating to him. Lucifer's hands travel lower down your torso and gently cup your breasts. You hum softly and push your body closer to his.

"My, you're a needy one tonight, aren't you?" He chuckles and runs his thumbs over your nipples. "I think I know exactly how to help you." His hands travel lower and lower until they reach your core. Your breath hitches and your face turns a bright shade of red and Lucifer notices. "Is that okay, my love?" He asks, making sure he's not overstepping his bounds.

"Y-yes, it's more than okay.”

Lucifer's fingers explore your folds, teasing and prodding. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body. You gasp as he enters a finger into you. You moan softly and your back slightly arches. "That's it, my love, just let go, let me take care of you." The King’s tone is lustful and alluring. Lucifer adds a second finger and starts thrusting in and out, his thumb rubs your clit. He moves his fingers faster and harder. “Luci…fuck…” You swear followed by another moan, the pleasure is overwhelming. You can feel him smile against your skin, his hand working wonders between your thighs. You bite your lip and whimper, gripping the edge of the tub. Lucifer bites the tip of your ear and quickens his pace. “That’s it my dear, are you gonna cum for me?” Lucifer groans and pushes his fingers deeper inside you. You let out a whimper, a feeling of warmth growing deep within your core. Between the steam from the bathtub and all the stimulation you start to feel a little dizzy. Lucifer groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He focuses back on your clit, his middle finger massaging little circles, picking up speed with each second that passes. You can't stop the moans from escaping your mouth, the pleasure is too much. You can't hold back any longer and your body is rocked with wave after wave of pleasure. Lucifer's fingers move slower, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your face is bright red. Lucifer pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Are you alright?" He asks, kissing your neck. You nod and completely relax into Lucifer's body. You lay in the bathtub together, his fingers caress your arm, he presses another kiss to your temple.

"I think it's time you got some rest." He says, barely above a whisper. You both get out of the tub and Lucifer wraps a towel around you.

"You're absolutely perfect." He says with a grin and kisses your nose. You smile at him, continue to dry off and wrap your hair in a towel. Lucifer loans you a pair of his silk pajamas, they are just slightly too big for you. But all that does is add to how comfortable they are. You lay in bed next to him, the covers pulled over your shoulders. He pulls you close and runs his fingers through your hair.

"So, tomorrow you will do no chores, no errands, just relax and take it easy.” He says, with a slightly demanding tone. You lay your head down on his bare chest and he picks up his book. “Yes sir…no chores…” You murmured against his skin. “He chuckles, "Good girl. That's what I like to hear.” He praises while putting his glasses back on. You're exhausted from the day and can barely keep your eyes open. Before long, you fall asleep in the arms of your love, ready for a trouble free day tomorrow. 

[afterglowsainz]

close to you | carlos sainz, alex albon

pairing: carlos sainz x gf!reader x alex albon

summary: after your boyfriend starts hanging out more with his future teammate, your start catching feelings for him, not knowing that he also seems to be interested in him

fc: different girls from pinterest

request: here

a/n: VIVA MEXICOOOO (that’s literally all i have to say)

—

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername nyc with my loveeee ❤️‍🩹

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carlossainz55 😍😘

carlossainz55’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🗽] [caption 2: look who i found 👀 alex_albon]

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

alex_albon new york for the day 🥐

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username adorable

username ahhh with carlos and y/n

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username actually on the verge of tears for how much i need him

carlossainz55 and the credits to the photographer?

alex_albon credits to carlossainz55 for the picture 🙄

liked alex_albon, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername in case you couldn’t tell by my outfit, i was rooting for the guy in red (who got a podium!!!)

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username CUTIES

username you’re beautiful

username neeeed that jacket

carlossainz55 te amo hermosa 😘 (love you, beautiful)

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yourusername you’re one to talk!

alex_albon 🙏🏽 (liked by yourusername)

username nahhh the parallels between her picture and his picture go crazyyy

username they’re so meant to be

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and others

alex_albon nice time in quali, now ready for tomorrow 🏎

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username going a bit feral at the moment

yourusername congrats on p9 alex!!

alex_albon thanks y/n! ☺️

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username the way he’s dragging that tractor to q3 every weekend MUST be studied

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alex_albon thanks!

username is it just me or carlos and y/n seem a bit obsessed with alex these days? 😅

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[caption 1: ❤️] [caption 2: 🍸🍸 carlossainz55 alex_albon]

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and others

carlossainz55 always playing ⛳️

tagged alex_albon

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username the way carlos and alex are joined at the hip now

username did NOT expect that type of bond but i’m sooo into it

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alex_albon it’s funny you say that because that movie was all the prep i had before going golfing

carlossainz55 and i’m trying not to feel offended by that 😁

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alex_albon there was no need for that

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liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and others

alex_albon fun nights 📸

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georgerussell63 lowkey offended you left me out of it

alex_albon 😅

username backwards cap alex backwards cap alex 🚨🚨

username oh to be photographed by alex albon in the back of his car

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username alex casually third wheeling them 😭

carlossainz55 😊

yourusername ☺️

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

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tagged carlossainz55 and alex_albon

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username OMGGG ???? 😭

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alexandrasaintmleux finally omg !!!

charles_leclerc finallyyy we can stop listening to them whimpering and crying over alex

yourusername omg shut uppp 😭

alex_albon wait i’m curious what else do you know

alexandrasaintmleux oh the amount of things we know you have no idea

charles_leclerc they had biggest crush on you mate i swear

carlossainz55 if you don’t shut up i’ll kidnap leo and raise him as my own

alexandrasaintmleux charles shut up

charlesleclerc 🤐

alex_albon 😔

username when the hottest couple you know was simping for the same man 😩

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username i love them 💙💙💙 go williams or whatever they say

[arabella0001]

i know its long but plspls give it a chance!!

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession (Illumi Zooldyck x Reader)

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession

Pairing; Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Anime: Hunter x Hunter

Synopsis:A woman with secrets, a man with control. Illumi Zoldyck finds her, and their silence lingers with something unspoken.

Warnings: slow burn, dark themes, rough sex, fingering, comfort in Illumi's way

You’ve always kept to the edges, moving through life unnoticed. You’ve had your share of battles—physical and otherwise—and learned early that blending in was as important as any skill. Your past is a blur, just fragments you’ve pieced together, like a puzzle you can’t quite finish. In the shadows, you thrive, and that’s enough for now.

There’s always been a quiet certainty that when the time comes, you'll be ready. You’re waiting for something, though you can’t say what—maybe a clue, or someone who knows more about you than you do. Tonight, it’s just another evening, another bar, another meet-up. But your instincts tell you something’s off.

The bar was shrouded in shadows, the faint flicker of a red neon sign casting eerie shapes on the cracked floor. You pushed through the heavy door, the creak of its hinges slicing through the muffled hum of conversation. The smoky air wrapped around you like a warning, but you ignored it, your heels clicking softly as you approached the bar.

Two men sat at the far end of the bar, framed by the flickering light. One of them lounged lazily, a grin stretched across his lips—Hisoka. Beside him, the other man sat perfectly still, an eerie contrast to Hisoka’s theatrics. Illumi who absentmindedly wrapped his hair around his finger while Hisoka teased him, clearly enjoying the moment.

Illumi’s needle hung from his robe as usual, while his other hand rested casually on his knee, ever ready to strike if necessary.

“Illumi, don’t be so dull. Where’s the fun in that?” Hisoka chuckled, looking amused.

“Be quiet, before I make you” Illumi replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance, still sipping his drink.

Hisoka’s gaze snapped to you almost instantly when he sense your nen, knowing exactly that you are Y/N,  his grin unfurling like a blade hidden in silk. He adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate flair, the faint gleam in his eyes hinting at both curiosity and danger.

‘Well, well, look what we have here,’ he purred, stepping toward you with unsettling grace.”

“A lovely lady, all alone and ripe for the picking.”

He extended his hand towards you, offering it with a gentlemanly air, though a glint of mischief danced in his eyes. Illumi remained seated, his gaze flicking between you and Hisoka, his needle twitching slightly, as though he were anticipating whatever might happen next.

You raised an eyebrow at Hisoka’s bold approach, your crimson lips curling into a smirk. A small part of you felt uncertain—there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right. “And just what do you think you're 'picking'?” you asked, your voice calm, but with an edge of challenge. Despite the unease creeping at the back of your mind, you accepted his hand.

Hisoka's grin widened at your firm handshake, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. “Oh, my dear, I’m not sure yet. But I have a feeling you’re going to make this evening very... interesting,” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice turning husky. “Care to join me and my friend for a drink? We can discuss the possibilities.”

Meanwhile, Illumi remained passive, watching the exchange with interest. His eyes flickered between you and Hisoka, seemingly impassive. His needle quivered faintly as though waiting for the right moment to strike. When your gaze met his, Illumi simply studied you with his trademark unreadable expression, the coolness of his stare sending a chill through the air.

Your eyes lingered on the Illumi’s needle, his cold presence making your pulse quicken. There was something unsettling about the stillness in his posture—it was like he was watching you with the precision of a predator. A chill ran down your spine, and despite the intrigue it sparked, you couldn’t deny the sense of danger radiating from him. Your heart beat a little faster, the unease creeping up on you, yet you couldn’t look away.

“You seem... interesting,” Hisoka said playfully, glancing over at Illumi with a mischievous glint. “Our friend here looks like he’s already sizing you up. No need to worry about him,” he added, with a wink.

You turned to Illumi, your gaze steady, though you felt a slight unease at his intense observation. The silence between you two was thick with unspoken tension. His presence was imposing, yet you couldn’t look away.

“Well now,” you said, breaking the silence. “A drink won’t hurt.”

You slid into the stool next to Illumi, crossing your legs and leaning back slightly, still feeling his piercing gaze on you.

Hisoka clapped his hands together clearly pleased with your response. “Excellent choice! Another round for us, bartender,” he called, signaling for more drinks.

Illumi remained silent, his posture relaxed but alert. He regarded you with the same intense focus, his gaze sharp, as if assessing you on some deeper level.

“So, tell me” Hisoka said, returning to his seat beside you after collecting the drinks. “What brings a stunning woman like yourself to a place like this? Looking for adventure, perhaps?” Hisoka’s question was light, but the underlying curiosity was clear.

You took a slow sip of your drink, never breaking eye contact with Illumi. His attention was making you feel uneasy, but you stayed composed. You couldn’t help but wonder: why was he playing with that needle? What was his deal?

After a moment, you turned to Hisoka, offering him a small, confident smile. “Just passing through, waiting for a friend,” you replied smoothly, your voice calm but with a hint of mystery. “What about you two?”

Hisoka chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Just enjoying the finer things in life: good company, fine liquor,” he said, winking at you playfully. “Perhaps a little entertainment, if you’re in the mood.”

Illumi, on the otherhand, didn’t respond verbally. He simply tilted his head slightly, studying you with a gaze that felt as though he were trying to see through you. The needle twitched once more, drawing lazy circles in the air, as if testing the limits of the tension between you.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, until Illumi finally spoke. “Your friend had better hurry,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “This isn’t a safe place for someone like you to linger.”

His words were cryptic, but there was an edge to them, something that made your skin prickle.

You glanced at Illumi, your eyes narrowing. “Someone like me?” you asked, not sure if you were being threatened or warned. Hisoka, sensing the tension, stepped in to break the silence.

“Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said with a soft chuckle, placing a calming hand on Illumi’s shoulder. “Our guest seems perfectly capable of handling yourself. Aren’t you, Y/N?”

Hisoka’s tone was light, but there was a subtle edge beneath the words, as though he, too, were aware of the growing competition for your attention.

You noticed the way Hisoka’s touch on Illumi’s shoulder seemed both friendly and possessive. It was clear they had some sort of complicated relationship, and you were caught in the middle of it. But what caught your attention, is that they know your name, but you decide not to speak about it.

You raised an eyebrow at Illumi’s comment, trying to keep your cool despite the unease settling in your chest. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you perhaps… threatening me?” you whispered, your voice steady, even though the tension in the room was making your heart race.

Illumi’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. “Threaten you? Oh, no. I'm merely offering... a warning.” he purred, his tone oozing with condescension. “Consider it a courtesy.”

Hisoka quickly intervened, his voice soothing. “Pay him no mind, Y/N. My friend there speaks in riddles sometimes. It’s just his way of showing interest.”

Despite Hisoka’s attempt to downplay the situation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more complicated was at play here.

You looked at Illumi’s mocking smile, the chill creeping up your spine at his tone. You turned back to Hisoka, trying to ease the tension. “I’m not sure I buy that,” you murmured to yourself, then smiled at Hisoka, attempting to lighten the mood. “But thanks for the intervention.”

Hisoka chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Ah, always so perceptive, aren’t you?” He raised his glass in a toast. “To new acquaintances and the intriguing games we play, hmm?”

The tension between the three of you remained thick in the air. Illumi leaned back in his seat, watching you intently, his needle still tracing lazy patterns in the air.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to Hisoka. You could feel his eyes flickering over you, sensing your curiosity.

Hisoka grinned, clearly pleased by the question. “Oh, I dabble in many pursuits,” he said. “Collecting rare artifacts, attending underground fights, savoring exquisite cuisine...” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for dramatic effect. “And occasionally, I provide a... more exclusive form of entertainment for those who know how to appreciate certain... unique talents.”

His words were playful, but there was a sense of pride in them, as if he relished in his dangerous lifestyle.

As you turned to Illumi, you could feel the weight of his silent gaze. His presence was suffocating, and you sensed the layers of his mystery, but he didn’t respond.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your tone casual, but with a trace of challenge. The air between you two thickened.

Hisoka’s grin widened, but he avoided giving you a direct answer. “Illumi here is a man of many talents,” he said vaguely. “He has a... certain calling in life.”

Before you could ask more, Illumi stood up abruptly, the scraping of his chair on the floor making you tense.

“Enough idle chatter,” he said coldly. “If you’re done prattling, perhaps our host has something more stimulating in store for us.”

He turned and began to walk toward the exit, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake. You watched him leave, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. His mention of a "host" caught you off guard. Who was he talking about? The way he spoke suggested something far more serious than a casual meeting, but you couldn't place the connection yet.

“Well, that was certainly an interesting introduction,” you said to Hisoka, trying to shrug off the discomfort.

Hisoka chuckled, unbothered by Illumi’s abrupt exit. “Yes, Illumi can be a bit... intense,” he said. “But don’t worry, he means no harm... unless provoked.”

Hisoka leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “I find your reaction to him quite fascinating,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”

You turned your gaze back to Hisoka, intrigued by his words, but still uncertain of where this night would lead.

“Well, I've faced worse than his eccentric personality,” you smile jokingly.

Hisoka’s grin widened, clearly amused by your bravery. “Is that so? I’d love to hear more about these ‘worse’ encounters of yours. Perhaps over dinner, hmm?”

He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks. As they waited for their refreshments, Hisoka continued to regale you with outrageous tales of his adventures, each one more bizarre and captivating than the last.

Meanwhile, Illumi re-entered the bar, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence subtly overwhelming. Despite the physical space between you, you couldn’t escape the weight of his gaze, as if he were silently dissecting your every movement.

You glanced at him as he returned, going back to the host he’d mentioned earlier—but of course, you had no idea what he meant by that. There was something about the way he had said it, a certain expectation, as if his presence here was tied to more than just a casual meeting.

You noticed Hisoka’s quick, subtle gesture when Illumi sat down—a nearly imperceptible nod, as if confirming something without words. It didn’t escape your attention, but you couldn’t quite place its significance.

“Okay, I’m done,” you say calmly, though clearly irritated. “Do you have a problem?” you ask, looking at Illumi, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Illumi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. However, there was no sign of anger or aggression in his demeanor. Instead, he tilted his head and studied you with a curious, almost intrigued look.

“Problem?” he repeated in a low, measured voice. “Hardly. I simply find your... audacity rather intriguing. Most would have fled in terror at the sight of me, yet here you stand, unflinching.”

He leaned back in his stool, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never strayed from you. “Tell me, what drives someone like you to face danger so directly? Is it bravery, stupidity, or perhaps something else?”

The question lingered, heavy with a subtle menace. Illumi’s gaze pierced into you, as if trying to read something in you only you could answer. Hisoka observed the interaction, clearly fascinated, eager to see how you’d handle Illumi's probing.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain composed despite Illumi's unrelenting stare.

“It’s none of your business,” you respond firmly. “And... why should I be terrified of you?” you meet his gaze without flinching, even though your heart races slightly faster.

Illumi’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile at your defiance. “Brave words,” he murmured softly. “We’ll see how long they last.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a fleeting, chilling touch. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and morbid fascination. “Perhaps I should demonstrate just how terrifying I can be,” he purred, his voice carrying a dark, unsettling promise.

Before you could react, Hisoka placed a hand lightly on Illumi's shoulder, his voice a smooth contrast to Illumi’s ominous tone. “Now, now, let’s not scare off our lovely guest just yet,” he chided, a playful edge in his words.

Turning to you, Hisoka flashed that signature, teasing grin. You quickly pull your arm away from Illumi’s touch, a sense of unease growing in your chest. Your heartbeat quickens, his aura undeniably dangerous, but there’s also something about him that draws you in. Still, the feeling of being unsettled and annoyed lingers.

“Thanks for the intervention,” you say to Hisoka, giving him a brief but grateful look while keeping your attention fixed on Illumi. “But I think I’ll leave now.” You stand, meeting Illumi’s intense gaze one last time.

Hisoka rose to his feet with a sweeping bow. “A pleasure, You. I do hope our paths cross again, though perhaps next time in less... tense circumstances.”

As you made your way to the door, Illumi remained seated, his gaze unwavering as he watched your every movement. “Until next time” he whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous promise.

Once you exited the bar, Hisoka whistled lowly. “Quite the spark between you two,” he said, his eyes flicking to Illumi. “I hope you can handle the flames to come.” Illumi remained silent, watching the door with a slight, unreadable tilt of his head. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something crossed his face—perhaps a mix of interest and calculation—but he didn’t comment. Hisoka smirked, sensing the night was far from over.

You stepped outside into the cool evening air, the wind brushing against your face. Your thoughts raced with everything that had happened—Illumi, Hisoka, the odd tension that hung in the air between the three of you. Something about them—about him—kept you intrigued, despite everything telling you to stay away.

The following days passed in a haze. Between training your Nen and trying to keep your mind focused, the encounter with Illumi and Hisoka lingered at the back of your thoughts. You went through your routines, honing your skills in the solitude of your own space, but a nagging thought kept surfacing: Could this strange connection with them somehow serve your ultimate goal?

Your instincts told you to stay cautious, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much larger.

That night, just as you were about to slip into restless sleep, a knock at your door shattered the silence. Your heart raced, pulse quickening with anticipation. Hesitant, you approached the door, peeking through the peephole. A shadow loomed outside.

"Illumi?" you whisper, barely above a breath.The knocking continues, more insistent this time.

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to stay safe. Yet, curiosity overwhelms you. Slowly, you open the door just a crack.When you see Illumi standing there, you freeze for a moment, unsure what to do. Part of you wants to slam the door shut, but the other part... is intrigued.

"How do you know where I live?" you ask, your voice a little more uncertain than you'd like to admit. "What are you doing here?" You keep your gaze locked on him, your body on alert.

Illumi steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door softly behind him. In the dim light, his presence feels almost suffocating—like a predator watching its prey.

"You shouldn't be surprised," he murmurs smoothly, his voice like silk. "In our world, secrets aren't hard to uncover. Especially when someone as... captivating as you is involved."

He steps closer, his proximity sending a ripple of heat through your body. The danger in his every move is undeniable.

"I came to extend an invitation," he says, his voice low, mesmerizing. "Tomorrow night. A private gathering. It will be... an experience you won't forget."

You swallow, trying to hold your ground as his gaze locks onto yours. His presence, so close, sends an electric current running through your skin, leaving you with a chilling sense of unease—and, for some reason, something else.

"I don't think so," you respond, trying to keep your composure. "I don't trust you yet to accept an invitation from someone like you."

Illumi’s lips twitch into a small, calculating smile as he watches you. His gaze is cold, yet there’s something predatory in it. "That’s precisely why you should consider it," he says, his voice low and steady. He reaches forward, his fingers grazing the side of your face with eerie precision, his touch cold yet deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We’re not used to being dismissed," he continues, his voice unwavering and cold, yet there’s an underlying intensity. "Especially by someone with potential. Consider it a test—a way to prove you’re worth our attention. A challenge, if you will."

He leans in slightly, his breath cold against your ear. "If you prove yourself, the rewards may outweigh the risk," he says, his voice steady but carrying an unsettling weight. He pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. "Until tomorrow night. Don’t take too long."

You watch him leave, your heart still pounding in your chest, the intensity of his presence lingering in the air. You hate that your body responded the way it did. Part of you feels intimidated, but there's also an undeniable temptation, a pull you can't seem to shake.

The next day, you're pacing your apartment, anxiety gnawing at you. The offer, the invitation, the mystery—it's all too much to ignore. Despite your better judgment, you're drawn to the dangerous allure of Illumi and Hisoka. By the time the sun sets, you've made up your mind.

You arrive at the mansion on the outskirts of town. The eerie quiet of the place sends a chill down your spine, but your curiosity pushes you forward. Inside, you spot Illumi waiting for you, his piercing gaze immediately locking onto yours.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice like velvet. "Look who decided to join us. I must say, I'm impressed."

You stand tall, despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. "Impressed by what exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I must admit, I find your... choices somewhat intriguing." You don’t dare voice your true thoughts, though a part of you feels the pull of his presence.

Illumi chuckles softly, a sound that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Oh, my dear," he purrs, his eyes dark with quiet amusement as he circles around you, "it’s not just my... choices that draw you in, is it?" His voice is smooth, dangerous, a predator’s calm before the hunt. "It’s the power I carry, the silent threat, the allure of what lies beneath the surface."

He steps even closer, so close you can feel the heat of his presence. Stopping behind you, he leans in, his breath grazing your ear. "But don’t worry," he murmurs, his fingers cold as they gently cup your chin, turning your head to face him. "I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I find your boldness... rather intriguing."

With a deliberate motion, he guides your chin to face him fully. His cold fingers send a shiver through you, contrasting with the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Shall we proceed?" he asks, his voice low, commanding, almost hypnotic.

You try to hold your ground, though it’s hard not to react to his proximity, to the way he takes control of the space between you. "Let’s get this over with," you say, your voice betraying a hint of unease, though you strive to sound unaffected. "Lead the way."

Illumi's grip tightens slightly, a silent reminder not to challenge him further. "As you wish," he responds, releasing your chin with a fluid motion before stepping back.

He leads you down the mansion’s corridors, each step echoing through the vast, silent halls. When you reach a heavy door, guarded by silent figures, Illumi unlocks it with a key, revealing the eerie blue light spilling from within.

"Welcome to our little sanctuary," Illumi announces. "Inside awaits an experience beyond your wildest imagination."

You step inside hesitantly, immediately feeling the weight of the atmosphere. The air is thick, pulsing with an almost tangible energy, and the blue light casts an ethereal glow over everything.

"What is this place?" you ask, your voice tight with uncertainty. "And who else is here?" You glance around, sensing eyes on you from the shadows, though you can’t make anyone out.

Illumi senses your unease and speaks with a calm, almost possessive tone. "This is a sanctum for those who appreciate the finer things in life," he explains, guiding you deeper into the room. "The company is... eclectic. But don’t worry, they mean no harm... for now."

He looks at you, his gaze unreadable. "As for the others, let's just say you've caught the attention of some very... interesting individuals." He places a hand on the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "We’ve been discussing the possibility of adding you to our little family."

Your breath catches. "Family?" you repeat, your voice wavering slightly. "I don’t even know what you do. I’m not sure I’m interested in joining your... family."

You glance around again, noticing how the shadows seem to shift, as if alive, watching you.

Illumi’s grip on your back tightens, his voice low and cold. "Oh, you’re already a part of it, whether you like it or not," he says, his tone calm yet firm. "Once you've crossed paths with us, there’s no turning back."

He leads you to a raised dais at the center of the room, motioning for you to sit. "Sit," he commands. "Now."

You obey, though the feeling in the room only grows heavier, more oppressive.

From the shadows, Hisoka emerges, a wicked grin on his face as he looks you over. "Well, well, look at our little bird perched so prettily," he says, his voice dripping with dark amusement. His gaze shifts to Illumi. "She looks like she belongs here, don't you think?"

You feel a shiver of dread as Hisoka's gaze locks onto you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Part of you feels threatened, yet the way Illumi stands near you, his eyes fixed on Hisoka with a certain quiet possessiveness, makes you feel... somewhat protected.

Hisoka steps closer, his grin widening. "In a world full of mediocrity, we seek out the extraordinary," he says with a mocking tone. "And you, my dear, are a rare gem indeed."

Before you can respond, Illumi places a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. "Enough games," he says quietly, but with an edge to his voice. He turns back to you, his demeanor shifting to something more serious, yet still oddly intimate. "We’re not merely what people assume us to be. We are... curators of chaos, seekers of the sublime."

You listen to his words carefully, still trying to wrap your mind around everything. You're intrigued, but more than a little scared. There's so much you don't understand.

"So, what is it you want from me?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "What is your game? What are you, assassins?" You joke, but oh dear, their gaze tells you everything, and you freeze, realizing the truth of their job.

Illumi’s smile grew, a thin, calculating line that didn’t reach his eyes. "Assassins, mercenaries, enforcers—labels are irrelevant when you're dealing with the best of the best," he said, his voice a low purr. "We’re not concerned with ownership; we’re more interested in partnership."

Hisoka snorted, his grin widening. "Partnership implies equality, sweetheart, and you're nowhere near our level. But don’t worry, we’ll bring you up to speed."

Illumi placed a hand on your knee, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the deadly nature of their profession. "Think of it this way—you'll be part of an elite circle, operating on the fringes of society. No ordinary life for you anymore, my dear. Just the thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline in the face of danger..."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize they are indeed assassins, and it troubles you more than you intended. You feel in danger here—there’s no way out. The mansion is full of people waiting for you to join their group, but... why?

As you overthink, staring at them intently, you suddenly realize something that terrifies you. You've heard of an assassin family—the Zoldycks—and you can't help but ask, a tremor running through you.

"Illumi... what's your full name?" You look at him, hoping for honesty, feeling tense and drawn to this dangerous man, almost seeking his comfort despite the fear bubbling inside you.

Illumi’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've done your research," he purred, leaning in closer to you. "My full name is Illumi Zoldyck."

He watched your reaction intently, savoring the shock on your face. "Yes, I come from a long lineage of assassins," he continued, his voice low and hypnotic. I’m the shadow that moves unseen, the force that shapes outcomes without lifting a finger. I’m a master of control, an architect of fate—everything I touch bends to my will."

Hisoka chuckled darkly, interjecting, "And a total psycho, if you ask me." Illumi shot him a withering glare, but then focused back on you.

"But enough about us," Illumi said, his tone shifting to a more intimate cadence.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, a chill running down your spine. You knew about the Zoldycks, but never thought you would meet one, especially not one so close to you right now.

"A Zoldyck..." You mutter under your breath, trying to process the new information. You look at him, feeling a mix of fear and fascination as you’re drawn to him. "Why do you need me to be part of... your group?"

Illumi doesn't answer directly about your role in the organization, but he can’t help but feel drawn to you in a way his family wouldn't approve of. Though cold and calculating on the surface, there's something different when it comes to you. He won’t show this weakness, of course.

Illumi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. " Let’s just say... you’ll fit nicely into the framework we’re building. There’s always a place for the right person."," he replied cryptically.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Yeah, she's got the spark, the fire in your belly. We could mold your into something truly exceptional."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint in his eye before returning to you. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Hisoka paused, studying your reactions closely. "So, what do you say, my dear? Are you ready to embrace your destiny and become part of our little family?"

You swallow, feeling like a pawn in a game you don't fully understand. The allure of power, of being part of something bigger than yourself, is undeniable.

 "I... I’ll think about it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, torn between fear and curiosity. You can't tear your eyes away from Illumi.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Oh, my, you're torn between fear and curiosity? How delicious! I can't wait to see what you’ll choose... or maybe I just want to watch you squirm."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint flashing briefly in his eyes before returning to you. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, like he was considering you, weighing you, perhaps even contemplating something more. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Illumi rose from his seat, towering over you, his eyes boring into yours. "I’ll give you time until tomorrow night."

Afterward, you head home, your mind consumed by everything that happened. As you think, your thoughts drift to Illumi.

As you departed, Hisoka called after you, his voice echoing through the mansion's grand halls. "Don’t take too long, darling! We’re eager to see what you'll become!"

Illumi, meanwhile, remained standing, his piercing gaze following you until you disappeared from view. Once alone, he allowed himself a fleeting moment of introspection, his thoughts drifting to the enigmatic woman he had encountered.

Despite his usual composure, there was an unfamiliar warmth simmering within him, a sensation he couldn’t quite define. Illumi pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—molding you into the perfect asset for their organization.

The next evening, as planned, Illumi awaited your arrival, his demeanor as cool and collected as ever.

You arrive at the mansion, nervous and troubled by the decision you just made. As you step inside, you see Illumi standing there, looking calm and collected as always. Your heartbeat quickens.

Illumi greeted you with a nod, his eyes assessing your appearance and demeanor. "You've decided, then?" he asked matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Come, let's discuss the details of your new role."

Without awaiting a response, Illumi turned abruptly, his movements deliberate and fluid as he led you deeper into the mansion. His steps echoed in the silent corridors, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, like he was drawing you into a world you weren't sure you were ready for. The maze of corridors felt endless, each turn more isolating than the last.

"I assume you have some experience with combat, " Illumi said, his voice low, almost assessing. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, a subtle but deliberate scrutiny. "We'll start with a physical test. I want to see what you're capable of. "

As Illumi finished speaking, the door creaked open behind you, and Hisoka leaned in casually, his grin widening as he sized you up. 'Well, well,' he purred, 'Let’s see if our recruit lives up to the Zoldyck legacy. "

Following Illumi, your pulse quickens, a mix of nervousness and something else, something unfamiliar. The door to the training room swings open, and the cold gleam of weapons lining the walls hits you like a slap. This was no ordinary training facility—it was a shrine to death, and you were about to become a part of it.

I... yes, I have some combat experience,' you reply, trying to sound confident, but your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. His gaze, slow and deliberate, traces over you—making you feel both exposed and oddly... seen. You force yourself to stand tall, though your heart races under the weight of his scrutiny.

You notice Hisoka observing you with keen interest, his grin widening as he watches your interaction with Illumi.

With a deep breath, you brace yourself, feeling Illumi’s eyes still on you, studying, calculating. His nod is almost imperceptible, yet his gaze remains sharp and intense, like a predator’s. 'Let’s start with something simple—agility, reflexes. Show me what you can do.' His words, though neutral, hang heavy in the air, a silent challenge."

He pointed to the obstacles ahead—hurdles, balance beams, pendulums swinging with mechanical precision. 'Your task is simple,' Illumi said, his voice calm but firm, 'Cross without making a mistake. Only the ground should feel your weight. Understood?'"

Before you could respond, Hisoka chimed in, "And remember, sweetie, speed and precision are key! Show us what you're made of!"

Illumi glanced at Hisoka, his expression a sharp mix of annoyance and something else—something colder. But he didn’t waste words. His gaze snapped back to you, every ounce of his attention now fixed on your every move. "On my count," he instructed, raising his hand. "Three... two... one..."

You nod, taking a moment to observe the obstacles before you. Your mind races with strategies and tactics, trying to decide the best approach.

As Illumi starts counting down, you spring into action, moving swiftly across the floor. You leap over the hurdles, balancing carefully on the narrow beams, and dodging the swinging pendulums with quick reflexes.

Halfway through, you feel a surge of adrenaline, pushing you to move even faster. With a final leap, you land safely on the ground, panting lightly.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you look up at Illumi and Hisoka waiting.

Illumi watched your performance with a critical eye, noting your speed, agility, and overall technique. When you finished, he gave a slight nod of approval. "Not bad. You managed to complete the course without major errors."

Hisoka, on the otherhand, was practically bouncing with excitement, clapping his hands togetyour gleefully. "Bravo, bravo! What a delightful display of athleticism! I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed."

Illumi raised an eyebrow at his friend's exuberance but turned his attention back to you. "Next, we'll assess your marksmanship skills. Follow me."

Without a word, Illumi turned, leading you to a shooting range tucked in a quiet corner of the room. The stark silence of the space was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of your breath. 'Prove your worth,' he said coldly, 'Handguns, rifles, knives. Show me what you can do.

You follow Illumi to the shooting range, feeling a mix of confidence and trepidation. You’ve handled guns before, but not in a formal setting like this. Nodding, you select a handgun first. Illumi helps you check the weight and grip before you aim at the target, his touch on your hand making you unfocused for a second. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze the trigger, hitting the center of the bullseye. Next, you move on to the rifle, your aim steady and true as you fire off round after round, each bullet finding its mark except one. Finally, you pick up a knife, flipping it expertly between your fingers before demonstrating your throwing skills. The blade embeds itself in the wood of the target.

Illumi observed your performance with a calculating gaze, his expression unreadable. When you completed the tests, he stepped closer, inspecting the target results.

"Decent accuracy with the handgun and rifle," he remarked, "but room for improvement. That stray shot could’ve been fatal in a real-world scenario."

Hisoka, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the minor flaw. "Pfft, a single miss? Hardly a concern, darling! With practice, you’ll be hitting your marks every time."

Turning to you, Illumi continued, "Your knife work is satisfactory, though perhaps a bit flashy for our purposes. We prefer subtlety and efficiency in our assassins."

He paused, studying you intently. "Overall, you demonstrate potential, but you still lack the polish and discipline required for our organization."

You listen to Illumi's critique, a small part of you stung by the criticism, but you push that aside, focusing on his words of guidance instead.

"Okay." You nodded. His cold, enigmatic demeanor makes you so aware of your surroundings.

Illumi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded curtly. "Very well. We'll continue your training tomorrow. For now, rest and prepare yourself mentally for the challenges ahead."

With that, he turned and wanting to leave, leaving you alone with Hisoka. The latter grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don’t worry about old Illi’s harsh words, sweetheart. He’s just trying to whip you into shape."

Hisoka sauntered closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. "I, on the otherhand, think you’re perfect just the way you are. Though I do hope you’ll indulge me in a few... extracurricular activities tonight."

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I have a feeling you’d look stunning drenched in blood."

With that, Illumi shot Hisoka a glare, making him leave. Hisoka already knows that his friend Illumi is interested in you, but he doesn’t say it directly. Illumi doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to you—the cold, calculating, and emotionless man on the surface. He can’t help but make you squirm and tease you in his own way, but he mostly focuses on the mission ahead.

Illumi’s glare held a clear warning, and Hisoka knew better than to push furtyour. With a playful smirk, he bowed mockingly before turning on his heel and departing, leaving you alone once more with the enigmatic assassin leader.

Illumi returned his attention to you, his expression unreadable. "Tomorrow, we will focus on strategic thinking and adaptability. Be prepared to face unpredictable scenarios."

Without another word, he dismissed you, his actions as abrupt as they were efficient. As you exited the training room, you couldn't shake the sensation that Illumi's interest in you went beyond mere professionalism—but the cryptic nature of their interactions left you unsure how to interpret his intentions.

Later that night, Illumi entered your quarters without awaiting an invitation, his usual composed façade slipping for the briefest moment as he took in your appearance. The fleeting flash of desire in his eyes earlier seemed to intensify in this intimate setting, and despite his attempts to suppress it, he couldn’t ignore the pull.

"I trust you're resting adequately," he stated, his voice low and measured. "Tomorrow, we'll be engaging in close-quarters combat drills. Your agility serves you well, but you must learn to harness your strength more effectively."

As he spoke, Illumi’s gaze roamed over your form, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your attire. The air between you thickened, heavy with an unspoken tension. It was a strange feeling, as though his usually tight control was slipping—something more primal simmered beneath the surface.

"Remember," his voice trailed off, his eyes still lingering on you as he tried to steady his breath. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his body as he stands closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

You swallow, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. His voice is cold and calculated, but you can’t ignore the thrill that runs through you at the sound of it. You nod, acknowledging his instructions about the upcoming training session.

The air between you both feels electric, charged with something neityour of you can fully control. As Illumi draws closer, his proximity seems to suffocate you, making it harder to breathe. Your senses heighten as he stands just a little too close, a small distance remaining between you—but not enough to ignore the intensity of his presence.

Illumi’s internal struggle was evident. His disciplined assassin’s mind was still sharp, but it was no match for the growing pull of his desires. He had been raised to control everything, to compartmentalize every part of himself—sexuality included. Yet, for some reason, you seemed to be different. This thought frustrated him; he couldn’t allow such feelings to complicate matters. But even as he thought this, his body betrayed him.

Illumi’s gaze darkened as his fingers tightened at his sides. He clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain control.

"Illumi...?" You look at him, hating yourself for the way your body seems to lean toward him. His presence is consuming, and despite your attempts to fight it, you find yourself wanting him closer.

Illumi’s resolve cracked under the weight of his desires, his stoic mask slipping away. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he closed the space between you, his hands reaching out to pull you flush against his hardened body. His touch was rough, possessive.

"You should not intrigue me so," he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "It complicates things unnecessarily."

But despite his words, his hands remained on you, his fingers pressing possessively into your waist, his body hard against yours. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, an animalistic hunger he could no longer suppress.

Your breath caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his muscular frame. The danger he embodies is palpable, but it only draws you closer, your body betraying your better judgment. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the heat radiating from him, and yet, you can’t pull away.

His words, laced with frustration and desire, hung heavy in the air. You can sense the internal battle he’s fighting, the need to keep control clashing with something far more primal. You can practically feel the tension between you, the undeniable pull that neityour of you wants to acknowledge.

"I could say the same thing," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet the words seem to carry a weight of their own.

Illumi’s grip tightened on you, his thumbs brushing along the sensitive skin of your lower back as he ground his body against yours. "Then perhaps we should indulge in these... complications," he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

With swift, practiced movements, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you as though he couldn’t get enough.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, leaving you gasping for air. You clung to him, returning his kiss with equal desperation, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, pleasure, and danger that only he could provide.

You gasp as Illumi’s kiss deepens, his dominance taking over as he pulls you closer, his movements quick and forceful. The danger and excitement mix within you, the fear of what might happen next blending with a yearning you can’t deny.

His skilled tongue dances with yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads throughout your entire being, you moan softly into the kiss, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. Ilumi's hands explore your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake, you arch into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caresses.

Illumi's lips left yours, trailing scorching kisses along your jawline and down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he nipped and sucked at the tender flesh.

One hand slid beneath your shirt, palming the soft mound of your breast as he continued his assault on your senses. His thumb flicked over your nipple, coaxing it to peak before pinching gently, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"We shouldn't rush this," Illumi breathed, his hot exhalation fanning across your damp skin. "But I fear my restraint is wearing thin." His fingers deftly unfastened your pants, sliding inside to stroke the slick heat of your core. "Tell me to stop, if you dare."

You barely register the sound of your pants being undone until his fingers slip inside, stroking your already drenched folds, making your knees buckle slightly, you can believe this the composed assassin Illumi you know, but you can’t help but feel aroused by him/

Illumi's fingers delved deeper, curling inside you to stroke your inner walls with a practiced ease that belied his typically reserved nature, his voice a low rumble filled with dark satisfaction. "Your body knows exactly what it craves, doesn't it?"

As he spoke, he added a second finger, stretching and filling your with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The wet sounds of their intimacy mingled with your ragged breathing, creating a lewd symphony that only served to fuel Illumi's desire. Though Illumi was never one for excessive words, but in this moment, he can’t help, his voice brough

"You should see yourself now," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he worked your tighter. "So compliant, so eager for more. It's almost...beautiful." With a sudden twist of his wrist, he found that secret spot deep within your, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cry out, unable to contain the intense pleasure, your back arches. The way he is so talkative, speaks so confident, so hynoptic, sends a thrill through you, even as a part of you wonders how he can be so bold, so unashamed of his desires.

“Illumi…” you gasp as you grind further on you his hand.

"Yes?" Illumi purred, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he sought to unravel you completely. "What is it you desire, little assassin? Speak, and I might grant your request."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you’d prefer to break under my control, against the wall, with nothing but the sound of how you crumble to my mercy?" You gasp at his filthy words, your eyes widen of this part of him, almost possessive.

Illumi's free hand slid up your side, his palm sizzling against your overheated skin as he cupped your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. "Or maybe you yearn for something more...depraved?" His thumb circled your nipple, tugging it into a tight peak that sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit.

Your breath hitches as Illumi’s words paint vivid images in your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last, his touch is addicitive, possesive, every caress igniting a fresh wave of desire within you, making you tremble.

Illumi's fingers picked up speed, plunging in and out of your quivering channel with a ruthless precision that bordered on violent, he groaned "I wonder how many times I could make you cum before you collapse from exhaustion."

He grind on your behind, bitting down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, as his other hand slipped beneath your shirt once more. His nails scraped across your ribs, leaving red welts in their wake, before he reached your breasts. Rough palms squeezed and kneaded the supple mounds, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks that throbbed in time with the pounding of your heart.

"Illumi, please... "you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whimper.

"Yes, what?" Illumi demanded, his tone sharp with impatience. "Speak clear, Y/N"

His fingers curled inside your, rubbing that sweet spot with a maddening persistence. "Do you want me to fuck you harder? Deeper? Make you scream my name until your throat is raw?"

His fingers plunge deeper, faster, the brutal rhythm threatening to consume you whole. you can feel the coil of tension building within, making you close to your climax.

You start screaming, feeling how your orgasm wash over you and with a swift movement, not letting you relax, he spun you around making you gasp, pressing your back against the cold metal of the wall, the rough surface provides a stark contrast to the heated, intimate contact of his body pressed against yours as you gasp. One hand gripped your hip, holding your steady as the other fumbled with his belt, freeing his throbbing erection.

"I’ve decided I’m going to take what I want. Now," his tone sharp, positioning himself at your entrance.

His words are filthy, depraved, and they only serve to stoke the flames of your arousal higher, you can feel his hardness prodding at your entrance, a thick, pulsating promise of the pleasure to come.

“Yes, Illumi, fuck…please“ you admit breathlessly, your resolve crumbling under his touch and words.

With a feral snarl, Illumi surged forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out, your back arching as you felt him stretch your open, the sensation bordering on pain but suffused with overwhelming pleasure.

“So willing” Illumi hissed, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. "This is what you needed, isn't it? I want to hear you admit it.”

“Yes…” You nodd desperately, feeling so intense and trembeling.

“Good. “" He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, his hot breath mingling with yours. "And I'm going to give it to you over and over again, until you're begging for mercy."

A strangled moan escapes your lips as Ilumi fills you completely, the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your entire being.

Each forceful thrust drives you closer to the edge, the friction of his hard length against your sensitive inner walls pushing you towards a precipice from which there's no return.

“yes.. Iillumi please, “you pant out, your voice a broken, pleading thing as you lose yourself in the relentless pace of his hips.

"Please what,Y/N?" Illumi taunted, his start gripping your throat slightly, moving your head towards him, as he drove into your with renewed vigor. "Tell me what you need, what filthy things you want me to do to you."

He captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominated yours. At the same time, his fingers found your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision.

"Come," he commanded, breaking the kiss to nip at your jawline.  As if in response to his words, your orgasm crashed over your like a tidal wave, ripping your apart and rebuilding your anew in its aftermath. You screamed his name, your voice echoing off the walls as your pussy clamped down on his shaf.

Your mind goes blank as the intense waves of pleasure wash over you, Ilumi's relentless stimulation pushing you past the point of no return.

Your screams mingle with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the obscene squelch of your arousal coating his cock as he continues to pound into you even as you come undone.

Ilumi's command hangs in the air, a dark challenge that only serves to heighten your awareness  of his own impending climax, you can feel him twitching inside you, his grip on your hips becoming almost painful as he struggles to hold back and you push into him more so you can help him.

With a guttural roar, Illumi buried himself to the hilt one final time, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a torrent of hot seed deep within your spasming depths. Each powerful spurt seemed to go on forever, painting your insides with his essence until you are filled to bursting.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax subsided, Illumi slowly withdrew, his softening member slipping free of your abused hole with a wet pop. A trail of cum dripped down your thigh, a visible testament to the thorough breeding you just received.

"Well, that was satisfying," Illumi murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he admired his handiwork.

His sharp eyes studied you for a moment, his stance unwavering. "You’re in no condition to keep standing like this."

Before you could spleak, he moved swiftly, placing a firm hand at your back to guide you toward the bed. His touch, though not gentle, was steady and unyielding. "Lie down," he commanded, his voice a low murmur.

You feel utterly exhausted, your body spent, yet vulnerable—vulnerable in a way you never thought you would be with a Zoldyck. The fear lingers that it was just a fleeting, intimate moment for him, and you long for the comfort of aftercare. You're conflicted, unable to predict his next reaction, fully aware of his cold, enigmatic, and stoic nature.

You look at him, unable to control the vulnerability in your expression. You can’t help but wonder, despite his personality and history, if you’ve become important to him—though it doesn't show on the surface.

Illumi’s gaze softened, if only for a heartbeat, as he took in your vulnerable expression. It was the briefest of cracks in his otyourwise impenetrable facade—a fleeting flicker of something raw, something human beneath his usual cold exterior.

Without a word, his fingers brushed over the marks on your neck, a touch so delicate it almost felt alien—so different from the relentless passion they had just shared. The contact was soft, almost tentative, sending a shiver through you, who couldn’t help but feel the weight of this quiet intimacy.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, the tenderness faded, replaced once more by his usual aloofness. "Get dressed," he said sharply, his voice regaining its customary chill. With his usual precision, he began to gatyour his discarded clothes, a stoic figure once more. "We have matters to attend to."

Your heart skips a beat at the brief, unexpected softness in his eyes—a connection so fleeting, so fragile, that it leaves you aching for more. But the moment evaporates as swiftly as it came, and you’re left questioning if it was ever truly there or just a brief illusion, a crack in the facade that closed too soon.

Can… you stay a little longer? you ask, a quiet uncertainty in your voice, hesitant of how he’ll respond.

Illumi freezes for a moment at your request, his assassin’s discipline momentarily faltering. The connection between you is something unfamiliar, something he hasn’t had to process before. His mind is caught between his hardened, emotionally detached instincts and the surprising intensity of the bond you're offering.

Illumi paused, his hand hovering just above his shirt as he considered your words. The room grew heavy with the tension of his contemplation. Finally, without a word, he sat down on the bed, his posture rigid, but not dismissive. He was clearly weighing something—something beyond his control.

"You want me to stay," he said flatly, his voice cold but with a slight edge of curiosity. His eyes never left yours. "Is that because you enjoyed our...interlude? Or is it something else entirely?"

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, a brief crack in his impassive exterior that he quickly masked. It was evident that You’s unexpected emotional intimacy had caught him off guard, forcing him to confront feelings and desires that he had never fully acknowledged before.

Your heart races as you watch Illumi sit, his presence overwhelming, as always, but now more than ever, it pulls you in despite the tension between you. His words cut through you, making your emotions feel more tangled, and you realize just how much you’ve invested in this moment—how much you’ve allowed yourself to feel.

"Yes... and no, " you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, stepping closer, but still unsure.

You reach out, pausing, as if to test the waters, before carefully placing your hand on his knee. A quiet hope stirs within you—that this small touch, this tentative gesture, might offer the reassurance both of you are craving.

Illumi’s muscles stiffen at your touch, a sharp breath escaping his lips as your fingers make contact. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, just staring at where your hand rests on his knee, as though trying to process the strange new feelings this simple connection stirs within him.

Slowly, cautiously, he places his hand over yours. His touch is deliberate, firm, and warm, but there’s a hesitation in it—a carefulness that reflects how much he’s struggling with the emotions that you’ve brought to the surface. "I see," he says quietly, his voice low, but there’s a shift in it. "In that case, I suppose I can spare a few more minutes."

Illumi stands, his hand hovering briefly before he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, the gesture is stiff, almost as if he’s testing how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. His arms wrap around you, but the embrace feels tentative, as though he’s still unsure of what to do with the warmth he’s suddenly feeling.

In the stillness of that moment, Illumi’s heart races in his chest, the thundering beat a stark contrast to the icy calm he’s always projected, betraying the chaos he’s desperately trying to suppress.

As Illumi pulls you into his arms, a sense of calm washes over you. His warmth is solid and grounding, a stark contrast to the heat and chaos of your previous encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the closeness—the simple, quiet connection that feels like it might be more than just physical.

Though your emotions swirl within you, you keep them in check, not wanting to overwhelm him. Instead, you focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat that seems to anchor you both in this rare moment of peace.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

Illumi’s arms tightened around you, holding you tight. The soft pressure of his body against yours was a sensation he hadn’t known before, and it both unsettled and captivated him.

"For what, exactly?" Illumi asks, his voice cool, but with a subtle hint of curiosity. "I'm not used to such gestures. Explain to me, why do you feel the need for this?"

But even as he spoke, Illumi didn’t pull away. Instead, his body stiffened for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing your temple in a brief, but telling gesture. It was a small act, a flicker of something he rarely allowed himself to show—soft, but unmistakably affectionate. It wasn’t much, but in that fleeting touch, something subtly shifted between them, a crack in the ice that had always surrounded him.

The press of his lips against your temple sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. The tenderness of the gesture, despite his usual stoicism, made you ache for more. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the intimacy that had quietly bloomed between you, fragile but undeniably real.

"For being here," you reply softly, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "For trying, even if it’s not something you're used to."

"Don’t get used to this," he murmurs, his tone strangely quiet, almost as if he's speaking to himself, not wanting to admit the slight shift inside him.

Illumi’s grip on you relaxed just slightly, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your back. Your words, simple as they were, had touched something within him. "Trying," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "Perhaps that's an understatement for what we’ve done. But with you… it feels different. Necessary, almost."

He trailed off, his words unspoken, but the emotion behind them clear. Illumi was used to being distant, to keeping his feelings locked away. But with you, that wall had started to crumble—piece by piece, allowing something deeper to emerge.

Your heart swells at Illumi’s honesty, his words a raw admission that makes you feel even more connected to him. You press yourself closer, wanting to bridge the emotional gap between you, to share in the understanding that seems to be growing between you both.

"I feel the same, Illumi," you whisper, your voice sincere and filled with unspoken understanding.

Illumi's breath caught in his throat at your words. The sincerity in your voice reverberated through him, stirring something deep he wasn't prepared for. For years, he'd hardened himself against the idea of emotional connections—intimacy had always been something distant, too complicated to allow. But with you, the tension was palpable, like something he couldn’t push away, something he wasn’t sure how to control.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, but with an intensity that spoke volumes. It was a stark contrast to the fierceness of their earlier encounter, but somehow, it felt more consuming—this kiss was softer, but it lingered with a weight he couldn’t ignore. It felt different, like a shift, like something he couldn't quite put into words.

As the kiss deepened, Illumi became painfully aware of every touch—your body pressed against his, the softness of your skin, the way your breath matched his, shallow but steady. Every movement seemed to pull him in deeper, and for once, Illumi couldn't escape it. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, but it was a feeling he found himself craving—something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until now.

[moonstruckme]

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!

Thank you lovely!

cw: mention of kidnapping/missing girl (that’s the backdrop of the scene so please be careful with yourself), Spencer has some dark/hopeless thoughts about the case

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets. 

“Hey.” 

He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, you look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand. 

“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?” 

Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.” 

A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.” 

“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.” 

“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out. 

She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else. 

Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.” 

“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.” 

“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that your cold face might be warming some now. “I figured you might need them, so.” 

“You were right.” 

Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?” 

“That’d be great,” he says, relieved. 

He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours. 

“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!” 

“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?” 

You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.” 

“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.” 

“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.” 

The backs of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks. 

Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm. 

“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job. 

You straighten immediately. “We were just—”

“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.” 

Spencer suspects his face is pinker than can be explained by the chill as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.” 

“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest. 

He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug. 

“This has lipstick on the lid.” 

Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.” 

“So you started on mine?” 

“I sampled.” 

“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.” 

He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | s. changbin <3

a/n: finally posting the next skz soulmate au !! i loved writing for sweet baby angel changbin :,,,-) i'm really in my skz feels these days, so hopefully i can write more soulmate aus soon <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.6k | warnings: none! | pairing: soulmate!changbin x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

every month, you send a package to your soulmate, knowing only your names before you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“changbin?” chan called from outside the bedroom, “are you ready yet?”

changbin, half-dressed and digging through his closet, answered, “almost!”

chan peeked his head inside, tilting it in confusion, “is something wrong?”

“it doesn’t fit.”

“what doesn’t fit?”

“the new shirt i ordered. i could’ve sworn i ordered it in my usual size…ugh!”

“oh that sucks, but…can’t you just wear another shirt?”

changbin groaned, “yeah, sure, i can. the whole point was to wear that shirt today.”

hyunjin appeared in the doorway, “do you need help picking out an outfit?”

chan explained the vague situation to hyunjin, and, during that time, changbin settled for a plain black t-shirt and denim jacket that matched his jeans. the car arrived to pick them up, so, with a final loud groan, changbin grabbed his favorite necklace from his dresser and headed out for the day.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

as soon as you opened your eyes, you checked your phone to confirm today’s date. earlier that month, your soulmate, whom you only knew as “changbin,” sent you a custom t-shirt in the mail. when you unfolded the shirt, a cute handwritten note slipped out, telling you that it needed to be worn on a specific date because i’ll be wearing one just like it. it’ll be a long workday for me, so knowing that we’re matching will give me the strength to do well! please take a picture, so, one day, i can see how cute you look~~ thank you for being my good luck charm, my love <3

rolling out of bed, you smiled. you had never heard changbin’s voice, but you imagined he always had a bright tone. his messages were always so sweet. even if he sent you a glamorous gift, you cherished the handwritten note more than anything. 

with your outfit completed, photo taken, and your mood at an all-time high, you decided to make the most of your day off. hoping the soulmate airwaves connected you, you thought let’s have a good day today, changbin! i’m rooting for you! as you stepped out your front door.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚  

“all right,” chan sighed, stretching his arms, “i say we move onto the next track, yeah?”

jisung agreed, so changbin checked to see which song they needed to record next, “let’s see…ah, it’s jisung’s song, ‘volcano…’” changbin’s tone dropped, but he spoke again quickly, “who’s up first?”

changbin made a mental note to apologize to jisung later. it wasn’t jisung’s fault that they were recording the song he wrote about his soulmate on the one day when changbin ruined his attempt to have a cute moment with his soulmate. chan, sensing the shift in changbin’s energy, suggested they take a break. even the members who weren’t in a sour mood enthusiastically agreed, all shuffling out of the studio for some fresh air.  

“changbin-hyung!” felix chirped, “want to walk with me? i could use some company!”

changbin couldn’t resist the smile that formed on his face. even in his worst mood, felix’s sunshine demeanor would win him over. as they walked, they chatted about the new animation felix was obsessed with, with felix re-enacting the most interesting parts. changbin’s shoulders relaxed, and he was grateful that the evening air and felix’s voice were so healing. standing at the edge of a slightly crowded street, changbin thought that maybe the bad day was behind him.

“what’s been on your mind today?” felix asked.

“it’s going to sound so stupid.”

felix shook his head, “no way! if it upset you, then it’s not stupid.”

“okay,” changbin sighed, “today, i was supposed to wear this one shirt, but i guess i didn’t pay attention and ordered it in the wrong size. normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but i sent y/n the same shirt. we were supposed to be matching today…kind of like a good luck charm.”

felix frowned, “i’m sorry. it never feels good when a plan doesn’t work out, especially an exciting one!” felix paused, and then grinned as brightly as he could, “you’re wearing the necklace y/n got you though! you’ve been doing great in the studio today, so that must be working like a lucky charm, right?”

“yeah, probably. it’s just…” changbin frowned, “hearing jisung’s song made me feel even worse. i’m so happy jisung met his person, but i can’t help that i’m jealous. i see how much better he feels on his bad days after he talks to his partner, and it hurts to know that i can only talk to y/n once a month through handwritten notes. it’s beautiful, and i love every word they share, but on days like today, it feels like it’s not enough…”

changbin’s voice trailed off, turning his head toward the opposite side of the street. maybe people-watching strangers could counteract the tears forming in his eyes.

felix rubbed changbin’s shoulder, “it’s okay to feel sad. i know you’ll meet y/n when the time is right, but that doesn’t make it any better in the present moment. maybe you can write out your monthly message to them tonight, if that would help?”

felix glanced over at changbin when he didn’t hear a reply after a minute or so, “changbin? are you with me?”

changbin stared down the street, captivated by someone wearing the exact shirt he was supposed to be wearing today. though his heart was racing, he doubted it was real. he had to be imagining it since he was thinking about you all day, right?

your eyes searched the crowd in front of you, as you were unable to shake the feeling that someone was looking right at you. you slowed your steps, scanning every face to find one you recognized. you were about to give up, but then a familiar necklace caught your eye. everything stopped when you met the gaze of the person wearing it. 

it felt too good to be true. how could you just run into your soulmate on a random evening, in an area you’d only been to once or twice before? besides, he wasn’t wearing the same shirt as you, which he had planned. but that necklace looked exactly like the one you gifted changbin for his birthday. even as you doubted yourself, looking at the man in front of you gave you the feeling that he was the one you had been searching for all along.

you waved at him and asked, “changbin?”

you knew you were correct the second he started giggling and jumping up and down. you laughed, every cell inside you bursting with joy because there he is!

“changbin? what’re you…” felix followed changbin’s gaze, “oh my god! is that y/n?”

felix deciphered a yes!!! amidst all of changbin’s excited noises, so he nudged changbin, “stop waving and go say ‘hello’!”

changbin bounded towards you, unable to stop his smile from growing bigger and bigger as the distance between you two finally disappeared.

“y/n! i’m so sorry i’m not wearing the shirt! i messed up and ordered the wrong size!”

you giggled at the pout that formed on his face, despite the look of pure joy in his eyes, “it’s okay, changbin! you look cute! besides, that would explain why this one isn’t in my usual size.”

“really?” changbin felt relieved, “so i didn’t mess up as badly as i thought?”

“no, not at all,” you shook your head, overwhelmed by the cuteness of changbin, your soulmate, “i can switch with you–since you must have mine in your closet–so we can match next time!”

changbin shook his head, “no way. you look way too cute in that for me to give you a different one.”

“should we share it then?” you joked.

“why shouldn’t we? we’re sharing the rest of our lives, aren’t we?”

you felt heat rush to your face at his words, bringing yet another giggle to changbin’s lips. you heard someone call his name with the news that they had to leave in a few minutes, which prompted changbin to get your contact information. the smile never left his face, even when he started to say goodbye. in his mind, nothing was more exciting than the fact that tonight, he could finally ask you how was your day, my love?

“i’ll talk to you later then, yeah?” you beamed.

“yes, please! i’m so sorry i have to leave right now, but i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“i do not doubt that, changbin.”

you waved, watching him walk in the direction he came from. after a few steps, he turned around to look at you again.

“what’re you smiling so much for?” you giggled.

“i guess you really are my good luck charm today, y/n.”

you felt butterflies swarm inside you as your laughs mixed, filling the crowded street with pure joy and endless possibilities.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[jarofstyles]

Flower 4

Hi my loves! I am unsure if this is the last part, I'm a little stumped on what to do for another part. If you guys have suggestions pleeeease let me hear them. Without further delay, here is the smut I've been depriving ya'll of. (Sorry xoxo)

Flower Masterlist

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WC- 5.2k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H, spitting, cum play, daddy kink mention, unprotected sex, all the good stuff etc

Harry’s hands were made to touch her. Calloused from the work he did, hot to the touch, he handled her in a cocksure way that had her melting under his fingertips. There was no mistaking that there was a touch of desperation, but she couldn’t tell who had felt it stronger- Harry or herself.

Y/N had never been so positive over a feeling before. Feeling them grip her under her thighs with fingers digging into the plush of her and picking her up with their lips attached, he pulled her up his body and carried her through his house and towards the stairs. He handled her weight as if she had none at all, light as a feather in his arms and fuck, it only added to how slick her poor panties were getting. As much as she wanted to insist they could do it right there in the entry way, Harry was nothing short of a gentleman. Even if he was about to blow her back out. 

“Need t’get you out of these goddamn clothes.” He grunted. “Wearing shit of mine… do you know what that does to me?” He asked hypothetically, but Y/N had a smartass answer for it. 

“I had a hope.” She grinned against his lips, squeaking when his hand came down on her ass. Fuck. It had jiggled slightly but the burn of it was light. He could do it much harder and she would love every second of it.

“Yeah? Had a hope it’d get my cock hard so you could take care of it?” The man seemed smug about that. “Well, mission fucking accomplished, Flower. Now it’s time t’get them off so I can see this beautiful body and worship you the way you need to be.” 

Y/N squealed as she was deposited onto his bed, watching with pants as he tugged his shirt off and fumbled with his own belt. “Just need t’let my cock breathe, sweetheart. Been aching all day.” A stroke to her ego, that information definitely did its job. 

“When did it start?” The question was breathed up at him, eyes struggling to find a spot to settle on. The obvious bulge that his hand squeezed over as the other tossed the belt to the side, or his face. 

“Well, if you want honesty? I stroked off in the shower t’avoid this. Thought about how you sat so nicely in my lap last night and pushed my hand under over your thigh, let me feel all that pretty skin. But then I show up and you’re wearing my fuckin’ jacket, telling me about the books you’re reading and hinting into your sexual desires… and it made we want t’fulfill them.” he let his jeans fall down his legs, boxers covering him up but not enough to keep her from feeling the hitch in her throat. His hand pawing over his erection, looking like peeling those pants away had been the relief he needed for the moment and pulling the fabric around it with a soft hiss. “I tried t’be good, but not too good. Liked that you were touchier with me, hoped that you’d finally gotten the message that I’m completely obsessed with you. But I think you did.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened as he grabbed her ankles and pulled her closer to him, settling on his knees in front of the bed. “Obsessed?” She so badly wanted to be the dirty talking vixen she read about countless times, but it was near impossible to form more than a few coherent words at a time as Harry kissed over her ankle, making his way up her leg. Feather soft kisses, the tickle of facial hair, she fought the urge to squirm as she took in the view. 

“Are you kidding me?” Shooting her an incredulous look her way. “Since the day we’ve met, you’ve completely ruined me. All I wanted- all I needed was a bit of your attention. Do you even know how excited I was… when you had me come over to help in your kitchen?” His lips started over on the other leg, leaning the other on his shoulder. “Got t’be around you all alone with that… but I had a job to do. Didn’t think that through. Was gonna ask you out so many times but I wasn’t sure you wanted me…”

“I did! I do.” There was a rush to correct that. “I just- I didn’t want to assume you wanted me. Like that.” She felt a little silly about it now considering if it had been any of her other friends she would have been able to clock it straight off, but when it came to herself she never liked to assume someone liked her that way. 

“Well, now you know. It isn’t an assumption. I want you, Flower. In every damn way you’ll let me have you.” Fingers found her waistband and tugged lightly, quietly asking her to budge up so he could peel her bottoms off. It had made her speechless, something she seldom was. “Tell me what you’ll let me have. It’s up to you.” 

“I want you to do whatever you want to me. I don’t want to make decisions.” That response fell out of her mouth before she could even think about it. Handing over power to him wasn’t something she had anticipated doing but it felt right, so she didn’t correct herself.  It seemed to take him by surprise but he looked happy with it, more than so with his gaze darkening and her pants tossed somewhere in his bedroom, along with her useless panties. A strained curse left his mouth as he looked at her, the swollen and slick cunt on display for him. His face was right there, so close she could feel his breath. 

All that did was make her more impatient, more wet. He looked like he wanted to devour her, completely engulf her in him. That’s all she wanted, more than he could ever know.

“You know what to say to make me stop, hm?” There wasn’t much she would ever imagine her needing to tell him to stop for, but the sentiment was nice. 

 “Mhm. I know.” She nodded. “Now, please. I’m gonna go crazy.”  When she had her orgasms and she was of the right mind again, she knew she’d be a bit embarrassed for how desperate she sounded, but it got her what she wanted. 

Harry didn’t reply verbally, his fingers spread her poor, puffy cunt open and dragged his tongue up her, getting the gasp he had been looking for as he did so. There was no hiding just how much he wanted it, no way she could ever mistake this as any sort of pity fuck. Harry was hungry, starving for her alone. Fingers digging into hip as the other held her pussy spread, he buried his face into her with the most depraved groan she’d ever heard in her life. 

There was no hiding his enjoyment, but she didn’t think he wanted to. Slick sounds of his tongue against the sensitive flesh, lapping up her arousal and slick from her and pressing the tip against her entrance as if asking for more from the source. She keened as he pressed a little more against her, fucking her slightly with his tongue.

Something she’d never actually had done to her, but read plenty of times.  There had been jokes about Harry being somewhat of a oral guy- but never had she expected this. 

“Oh- fuck, H.” She panted, digits tangling in his hair. “Oh my god, that’s so fucking good.”

Y/N had gotten head before, but never to this level. Harry was licking her up, devouring her like she was a literal meal. The sweetest dessert, strawberries & chocolate, or whatever it was that had become his personal vice. He wasn’t quiet about enjoying it in the slightest. 

“You are perfect.” He panted as he pulled away for a little moment. His face was slightly flushed and his chin and mouth glistened from her arousal and his spit, but it was one of the most filthy and gorgeous pictures she had ever seen. How did the man look so beautiful eating her out? “How did you keep this away from me?” Pressing a kiss to her clit, he grumbled under his breath. “Perfect cunt. You don’t even understand how often I’ve thought about this.” Another kiss, making her jolt as his thumb found it after for some lazy circles. 

“When did you- when were you thinking about it?” Y/N wanted to know. A curious cat, perhaps, but she wanted to know what had been going on in his mind. How oblivious she’d actually been. 

“Any time you wore a skirt. The floaty sundresses, fuck… those, those things nearly killed me quite a few times.” His fingers moved from her hip to her top, pushing it up her stomach as the other continued rubbing her clit and his sticky mouth kissed over her mound and up to her belly button. “When you sat on my lap, when you crossed your legs, when you jumped onto your kitchen counter and talked to me while I was on the ground to fix the cabinet underneath it…” she could almost see his mind bringing him back to that moment. It only proved how oblivious she actually was. There had only been a single moment that day she had felt like he had looked at her differently. “Any day that ends with ‘y’, Flower. Been making me go out of my mind with how bad I want you.” 

“You have me.” She promised, chestnut strands pulling through her fingers as he continued kissing over her stomach until the shirt hit her breasts and began to be pulled over. To help him- and for her own selfish reasons- she pulled the top off for him along with her bralette to give him the view he deserved. “Can do whatever you want with me now.” 

Harry took that seriously, but there was no doubting that. Pressing sloppy kisses all over her breasts, right in between them, he removed the hand from her clit and brought them up to hold her tits in his hands. “That’s a rather dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart. So dangerous, because if you give me that sort of permission… who’s to say I’ll let you go? Hm?” He purred, flicking his tongue over her nipple and smiling at her gasp. “If it’s whatever I want, you’d be tied up to the bed and left with nothing but my marks on your body and my cum leaking between your thighs.” 

The imagery had her choking back a whine, his hot mouth engulfing her nipple and suckling on it with fervor. Her hand tangled in his hair, arching her chest further into his mouth as she dropped her head back against the duvet. Slick, wet pulls of her pebbled nipple into his mouth with little attempt to keep it quiet, her cunt pulsed at the attention he paid to them. It wasn’t hurried, languidly pulling at them and switching over with a pleased hum. She had to admit it wasn’t something that usually got to her as much, but something about the beau he did it- about how much he clearly loved every moment of it- brought it into a new light. 

“Yeah…. Yeah, I love that.” She whispered as his teeth grazed over the nipple he had in his mouth. “Harry you’re just… my brain feels like it’s melted and you aren’t even inside of me yet.”

Somehow he found it humorous though there was no semblance of joke in her tone. The woman felt like a puddle under his touch and she was more than desperate to have him, all of him, after being teased all day long. Managing to pull himself from his new toys, he found it in him to reply. “I know, petal. Isn’t that the best part? You want to be fucked so nice that you don’t have to think for a little bit?”

“Yeah.” The mewl was borderline pathetic but god, did she want that. “You can do that? You want to?” 

“Mhm.” He agreed against her skin, pressing wet kisses up to her throat. “I told you I’d take care of you. You just sit pretty and let me do what I know you’ll like, yeah? You know how much I like to take care of you…”

It had become abundantly clear that he had an affinity for it- that’s for sure. He bought her lunch and opened her door for her, he took her heavy packages from the porch when she came over, he’d repainted her cabinets when she had tried to DIY and massively failed, he got her water when she got a little too tipsy at the bar, he’ll- he’d bought her an entire haul of books without blinking an eye. Harry was one of those people who genuinely loved taking care of her. Why wouldn’t she let him indulge? 

“Yes, Daddy.” She peered down at him with her softest gaze, knowing his last threat had been one one to bend her over his lap… but hopefully this time would be a different approach. 

Thankfully it had its desired effect as he paused his kisses on her throat to take her mouth again. Hotter, deeper, he pressed himself between her legs and rocked into her bare cunt despite being covered in his briefs, making a joined noise of pleasure pass their kisss. Again, he ground into her, the thin fabric of the last covering between them doing little to hide how hot his cock was- how big it was. She was going to go crazy. 

“Wanna suck you.” The request was a little whiny, but who could blame her? She felt like he’d be a mouthful but she was always up for a challenge. Despite it, Harry shook his head at the offer, brushing their noses back and forth. 

“Later. I told you, I want to take care of you… and besides.” Taking the moment to peel down the fabric enough to free himself, she gasped as the thickness was nestled against her cunt. “I won’t last long if you do. Want to make sure I give you… the most pleasure… that I can.” He spoke the words between sticky kisses.

Y/N’s head felt full, like she was underwater. His prick swollen against her cunt, rubbing against her in slow passes as the skin got slick from her arousal, tip nudging her clit with every pass. With a shuddery breath, she tipped her hips up and clutched at his arm, desperation kicking in. She’d been edged all damn day, and she wanted him inside her. “Then fuck me.” She whispered impatiently. “Fuck me, I don’t wanna be empty anymore.” 

Harry was slightly infuriating when he chuckled at her eagerness, sighing into a kiss. He’d been waiting so long for them to get to this point, and he knew- he knew he wouldn’t last long. “You’ve got t’give me a moment. Just feelin’ your slick cunt on my cock is making me wanna cum. Probably could- just like this.” His voice softened as he rocked his hips. “Could cover your pretty pussy with a load of cum and rub it into your skin, just kissing on you and rubbing into your cunt.” 

Y/N knew she was malfunctioning a bit as he spoke to her in a tone she hadn’t experienced from him, saying all sort of dirty shit she’d only heard in books and making her more wet and achy than she had ever been in her entire life. “Please.” Her hips bucked into him, the slide of his cock over her bare cunt taunting her. It was big, big enough she’d feel it in her stomach and she’d have an ache in her thighs but that sort of burn was one she had been desperate for. “Please, I wanna be good but I want you inside of me so badly. Please, H.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He crooned, eyes lit with amusement. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll be nice t’you. But I don’t know if it’s going to fit.” His tongue clicked as his notched his tip against her hole, pressing just enough to stretch a little before pulling back. Cruel teasing, perhaps, but he loved watching her face screw up in desperation for him. He’d waited a long while for her to see him, to understand this was anything but just friendship, so now that he had her from the palm of his hand… he sort of wanted to watch her eat from it. Get her soft and pliable for him after her makes her beg.  “See? You’re struggling just taking the tip.” 

Y/N let out a cry, lifting her hips up and grabbing at his arm. “I want it. Please, I’ve been wet all day and I don’t care if it hurts, I want you to hurt me then. I’m so fucking empty, jus’ give it to me.” She felt bratty for even being whiny about it but she could feel her eyes watering at how her clit was pulsing and her pussy ached to be filled. The pain from his cock couldn’t be worse than the emptiness she felt now. 

“Oh… shh.” He cupped her cheek, leaning down for a slow kiss. “Be sweet to me. Stop cussing at me. You’re a sweet little flower, S’why I like you so much. Didn’t know how dirty you got, but as much I love you begging for me, you need to let me be in charge. That’s what you wanted.” 

Y/N felt slightly reprimanded, opening her mouth to apologize when he pushed into her. It wasn’t all of him, but it was enough to steal her breath as she choked on air. Thick heat spreading her open, inching himself the rest of the way in as her head fell back onto the mattress. She held her breath before she had to take a gasping inhale, eyes watery as they looked up at him. It hurt, like he said, but not in a bad way. The new ache was satisfying as he pressed all the way inside, balls flush with her ass as he slowly rocked his hips against hers. 

“I warned you.” He murmured, thumbing a tear away from her cheek. “There’s so many deprived things…. I want to do to you…” he let his eyes fall shut as he pulled out for a shallow thrust, keeping most of himself inside of her. “So many filthy, nasty things that I have a feeling you’ll really love. But this time… I want to make you feel good. Want you to cum on this cock and know….” Nose brushing hers, he inhaled her exhale, squeezing her cheek lightly. “That I want to keep this pretty cunt, and I want to be the only cock allowed inside of it.” 

Y/N’s head got a little blurry from there. The swell of emotion hitting her as he claimed her in that sort of way, his lips brushing her cheek and praising her for how well she was taking him and squeezing him tight, his thrusts getting harder, deeper. 

“Look at me.” He commanded, finding his rythym. “Look at me, flower. Want you to give me your gorgeous eyes while I fuck you. There’s my girl.” His gaze shone with intensity and satisfaction and need, the gentle tone of his voice making it hard for her to look away at all. 

The sound of their sex was wet and slick, his cock filling her up in slow, deep pulls that had her eyes blurring each time he got as deep as he could go. “This isn’t a one time thing. This is changing… our relationship.” He breathed against her lips, giving his hips a roll and watching as the pleasure of her clit rubbing against his groin hit her face. “That good with you, Flower girl? Y’okay with being mine?” In a contrast of the deep fuck, his nose nuzzled against hers. “I’ll be the best boyfriend. Keep helping with your house… take you to whatever bookshops y’want… bring you those pretty flowers you love but have trouble finding. Give you anything you want.” 

Y/N didn’t need convincing that he’d be a good lover but the way he felt he had to plead his case with her was making her heart sing. 

“M’tired of not being able to call you mine, not being able to tell people t’fuck off because you’re my girl. Everyone teases me because… god, I look like you hung the stars, but you did. You planted ‘em just like your flowers.” He rasped, making her whimper. Holding tightly onto him, she tightened her legs around him and enjoyed the reward of his groan as he kissed her. Clinging to his broad back and feeling the way she was encompassed by his size, she felt overwhelmingly safe and horny and all of the things she couldn’t even describe. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “Uh-huh. I know. You can have me.” The answer was simple. 

The blazing smile was something that nearly stole all the air from her lungs as he looked genuinely excited, slowing the thrusts as he kissed her again, but it was different. Something about it felt even more charged. Desperate. She wanted to feel the full effects. “That was the right answer, baby.” He mumbled. “I’ll ask in a better way when m’not inside of you, but I couldn’t handle another minute of not knowing. Fuck..” his smile prohibited the kissing, too wide for her to actually get somewhere and it made her giggle. Drunk with the pleasure of him pressed deep in her channel, she felt him start to go at her a bit harder. 

“No more questions, angel. Just lay there and let me do what I promised.” 

Y/N took his word and let him fuck her the way she hadn’t known she needed. Thoroughly, deep, punching out cries from her lungs that she had barely realized she was saying. Babbling to him as he shifted his hips and found the spot he absolutely needed, she let her head fall back and mouth fall open as he fucked the spot again. 

The orgasm took her by surprise. “Daddy- oh… oh fuck-“ she shook, shocked by how fast and hard it hit her. The repetitive prods into it had worked her up, the heat flushing through her body as he continued. There was no slowing down, her body squirming slightly under him as she was slightly overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Oh… there it is, sweets. Did that feel good? Y’look so pretty when you cum for me, baby.” He crooned. “Prettiest thing in the world. Knew you’d struggle to take me but your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight… it’s perfect.” When she began to whine, he cut it off promptly. “Enough of that. M’gonna give you another one.” Thumbing over her chin, he pulled it open further. “Stick out that little tongue for me.” 

Y/N did as asked, bleary eyes nodding up at him as he pursed his lips and spit right into the flat of her tongue. It was nasty and hot to add into the sweet fuck he was giving her, but she knew it had only been the begging. He was being nice this first time around. 

“Oh, look at that. You’re so good when you get cock in you. Needed to be stretched and fucked, my gorgeous Flower.” He lifted a hand, slicking his fingers over the wet tongue. “Suck, bite… whatever you want. I need t’make you cum again.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, obedient in her fucked out form as she sucked on the two digits while he fucked her, harder than before. It was hard to decide if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer, nails running over his back as he groaned deep in his chest. There was something so erotic about him fucking her with little filter, eyes watching her lips as she bobbed her head on his fingers and breathed erratically as he sent her towards her next release. 

“No more of those stupid, silly little hookups. No more boys who are… fuck, baby… who are gonna leave you high and dry.” His brows furrowed as his slick cock pummeled her, pathetic little noises vibrating against his fingers. “M’gonna make you cum each and every time. My girl isn’t gonna have t’go without. Jesus.” He pulled his fingers from her mouth and gripped her jaw, pinning her with his gaze.

He could feel her cunt pulsating around him. Slick and hot and so tight it was borderline too much, he’d been holding off and it was hard not to lose his mind after finally getting what he wanted, but he knew she was close and he wanted another. “Cum.” His lips brushed her wet ones. “Cum. Cum for me. C’mon…” the ghost of a kiss sucked her bottom lip, the panting between them heavy. 

Y/N had to wondering how or why her body reacted to strongly to him, but right now all she was thinking of was how grateful she was to that fact. A broken moan of his name broke the panting, one of her leg falling from his hips as she came on his cock. It was a different sort of orgasm, feeling it from the inside out in a complicated way. She could feel herself gushing slightly as he fucked into her, a curse of his own leaving as her body felt weightless. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck… baby.” He whimpered, jaw slack as he pulled out and slicked his hand over his drenched cock. “Baby… baby, fuck.” His brain couldn’t come out with a different word pattern, white flashing behind his eyes as he felt his balls tighten and the first ribbon of cum decorated her cunt. The deepest groan left his throat as he wobbled on his one hand keeping him up, milking himself of every drop of cum as he pointed it at her clit. It was messy, dribbling from her bellybutton to her swollen cunt, and he couldn’t do anything but admire it. “Holy shit.” 

The girl acted quickly, gathering his face in her hands and kissed him sloppily. He returned it just as wet and messy, exhaling through his nose as he worked himself through the last of it. 

The wind down was oddly the best part. Lazy kissing, her soft giggles as he brushed her sweaty hair back and peppered slow kisses over her face and down her neck, he loved the slow intimacy as he looked her over. Sated, soft, pliant in the way he wanted. “Christ… you’re beautiful.” His voice felt raspy as he observed her, the most vulnerable place someone could be and she shone bright in his sheets. “Mm… I may take up my earlier threat.” He mumbled as he turned her on her side, pulling her in. 

“Which one?” She laughed, relishing in how he touched her. So gentle for someone who had just metaphorically broken her back. 

“Keeping you locked up on my bed. S’even more appealing now than before.” 

——-

“M’sorry.” Harry’s brows furrowed as she stood in front of his bathroom mirror. Taking a shower together had resulted in the shower sex one would expect, except this time he’d let her suck him off.

“Shut up.” She sighed, bumping him away as she used the brush to tame her hair. “I’m gonna be a little sore sitting down. It’s fine. And I have a feeling that isn’t even the toughest you get, so you’re gonna have to get used to me wincing.” Harry was beyond sweet for caring that she was a little sore when she had stood up from the shower bench, but it was to be expected. 

“Don’t love the idea of you in any pain at all.” 

“As sweet as that is, I’m fine.” Turning to face him, her hands cupped her cheeks and she gave him a sugary smile. “I’m hungry though. So you need to get me some sort of post coitial snack before I get grumpy. I’ll change the sheets.” 

Y/N grinned as he narrowed his eyes at her, stamping a kiss to her cheek and giving her ass a swat before making his escape. 

It was hard to fathom what had just happened. Harry had fucked her six ways to Sunday, multiple times, all the while basically asking her to be his girlfriend. It was a dream come true, but it happened so quickly that her head felt like it was spinning. The quiet time to think while she changed his sheets and pulled on one of his shirts had given her more time to process. 

If she looked back at it now, it made sense and she was more than obviously oblivious. It was hard to deny it now. He was so attentive and kind and touchy in a way that should’ve lent a hand in her understanding his feelings but she’d been so hell bent on not getting her hopes up that she hadn’t been able to see what was in front of her the whole time. 

Harry was a staple in her life, but it felt like now it was a relief to know he wanted to commit to her. He’d been the one to make it a point in saying this wasn’t just a one off. He wanted to date her. Be a boyfriend. 

Fuck. Harry was her boyfriend! 

That realization nearly sent her falling over but he entered the room with some cheese and crackers, grapes and water on a tray, and… a book? Her eyebrow raised as he placed the tray on the bed, padding over to his designated side of the bed- wow- and leaned up against the headboard. 

“Was thinking we could eat and I’d read you some of the book.” He laid the suggestion out as he spread his legs, patting the space between them. “Want to know what the hype is behind this book that it’s got you and Gia in a tizzy. And I’m feelin’ a little selfish and want close to me.” 

“Is this an excuse so I’ll hand feed you grapes?” Y/N joked but felt her heart in her throat as she got into position and felt him haul the tray over to her lap and flipped the book open. 

“Maybe a little bit. But is it so wrong that I’d like t’read my girlfriend one of the books she bought today?” 

Hearing it from his lips for the first time made her want to kick her feet against the sheets and squeal out loud, but she managed to control herself as she cleared her throat, tilting her lips up to kiss his jaw. “Nothing wrong with that at all.” She whispered, face flushed under her skin. “Here’s the first grape.” “Thank you.” He beamed, taking it between his teeth and crunching down. “Alright. Page one….”

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 4

tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry

Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other

childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.

Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.

You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.

In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.

Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.

Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.

You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.

As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.

Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.

It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.

It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.

“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”

“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.

“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.

“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.

You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.

-

You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.

But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.

What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.

Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.

It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.

Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.

Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.

Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.

A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.

However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.

Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.

That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –

And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.

Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.

But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.

And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.

Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.

Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.

Cool, cool, okay, cool.

But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!

It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.

It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.

Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.

But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.

Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.

You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.

Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.

A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.

Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.

His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.

Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.

Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.

You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.

(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)

Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.

Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.

“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”

“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”

“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”

“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”

And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.

That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.

What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.

It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.

Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.

Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.

He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.

He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.

So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.

Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.

Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.

They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.

Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.

But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.

The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.

Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.

He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.

For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.

If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.

Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.

But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...

And you’re just as confused as before.

Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.

There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.

It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.

You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.

Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.

Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.

He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –

No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.

And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.

Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.

Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.

There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.

He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.

Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!

And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.

Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.

But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.

Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.

Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.

Wait. Is he… is Gojo…

You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.

One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.

This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.

What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?

“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.

Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.

…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?

Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.

There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.

“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?

“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.

You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”

“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”

Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?

You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.

It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.

“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”

He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.

Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).

But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.

His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.

It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.

“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.

Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.

What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.

There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.

No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!

Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.

Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that��s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.

This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.

The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?

But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.

From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.

Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.

So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?

Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.

Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.

Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.

But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.

-

After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.

“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”

“Never, Satoru-sensei~”

“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”

“I never admitted that!”

(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)

Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.

-

You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.

It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!

So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.

Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.

And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.

The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.

“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.

“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.

He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.

The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?

Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.

“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”

“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.

“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”

“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.

Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.

It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.

By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).

He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.

It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.

You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.

Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.

Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –

Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!

Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.

The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.

He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???

It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!

Did he – why would he –

If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.

You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.

The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.

That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.

“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”

You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!

“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”

He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?

A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”

You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.

Your face is hot. So, so hot.

“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”

Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.

He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.

“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”

“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”

The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.

Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.

“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.

He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”

“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”

“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”

“But you want to – ”

“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”

A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.

But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.

“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”

Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.

You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.

Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.

“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.

Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.

“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”

God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.

“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.

He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”

“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”

“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”

Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.

There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.

Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.

“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”

You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”

Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.

“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”

“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”

You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.

Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.

Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.

“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”

One last time?

God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.

“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.

Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –

“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”

At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.

“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.

“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”

“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”

Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.

Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.

You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –

“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”

The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.

He doesn’t mean…

The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.

His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.

Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.

Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.

A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.

When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.

The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.

He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!

Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.

He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.

The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.

And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.

Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.

Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.

You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.

Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.

He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.

Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.

It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.

“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.

You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.

“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.

Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”

"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "

You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.

And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.

"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."

Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.

God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.

"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.

He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.

"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”

When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?

“Not an omega, Satoru.”

“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”

Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”

“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”

And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!

“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.

He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Then you should take care of him, this time.

“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.

And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.

“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”

“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”

There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?

He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.

It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.

But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.

Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.

Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.

You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.

“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”

With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.

It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.

No wonder the toy’s so big.

You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.

(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)

Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.

You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.

When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?

Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.

And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.

You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.

Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.

You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.

He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.

Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.

He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.

Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.

 It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.

“Say my name.”

You hear it.

You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.

He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.

It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.

Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.

Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.

His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”

Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.

“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”

When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.

“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”

It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.

He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?

One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.

You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.

When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.

“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.

The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.

He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.

While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.

When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.

His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.

It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.

You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.

“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”

He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.

There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.

He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.

He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.

“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”

Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.

You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.

So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.

Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.

Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.

The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.

“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”

There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”

His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”

Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”

The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.

You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.

Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.

And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.

Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.

 “I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”

“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”

Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”

God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.

Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.

Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.

He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”

“What’s yours?”

“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.

That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.

God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?

“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”

“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.

You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”

“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”

“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”

Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”

Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”

His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.

“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”

The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –

It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.

You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.

Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.

A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.

Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.

Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.

It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.

Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.  

Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.

“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”

His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.

Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.

“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”

Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.

“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”

-

Hours ago

“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”

Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”

“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”

“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”

“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”

 “Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”

Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”

“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."

His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”

It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.

“So… have you told them?”

He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”

"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"

"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"

That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.

Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.

“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”

The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”

“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”

“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”

“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”

“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”

That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”

“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.

He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”

“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”

“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”

Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”

“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”

Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”

“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.

“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”

“Ha! Neither did you.”

“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”

Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”

Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.

“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”

He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.

He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.

Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.

Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.

That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.

If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.

“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”

“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”

A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”

“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”

“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”

Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”

Satoru looks away.

They both know why he didn’t ask.

“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”

The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.

His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.

“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”

Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”

“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”

Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.

You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.

You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.

Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.

“Good luck, Satoru.”

-

You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.

He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.

The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.

“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”

Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.

Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”

He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.

And then, for a moment, he pauses.

“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”

He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.

“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”

He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.

For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –

“EEEEHHH??”

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

[miley1442111]

Hi love :) I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a little something for Derek Morgan? Where reader and Derek have a similar dynamic to Chandler and Monica from friends, maybe something similar to that one scene where Monica gets called high-maintenance and can't stop thinking about it and Chandler comforts her by saying that whilst you may be a little above the average maintence level (or something around those lines, it's been like 2 years since I last watched friends 😅), he's just like, "it's okay, because I like... maintaining you?".

Btw I'm obsessed with your fics I just finished reading all your Aaron fics in one go. Thank you so much my love! <333

omg i love this ideaaaa so much (Truth be told I've never watched friends once so i did in fact have to look this scene up on youtube)

i hope you enjoy!!

a/n: intended for fem or male reader, so imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you're not high maintenance, right?

pairing: derek morgan x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, mild insecurities

High-maintenance. You weren’t high maintenance, right? 

It had been a throw-away comment from earlier in the week, something funny David had said. Though it stuck with you, making you question if you were high-maintenance or not. 

Was it high maintenance to ask your boyfriend to drive you to the gym? To ask him to get you a coffee? To ask his opinion on things? To ask him to help you with something?

You were going over it constantly in your head, so much so, that you’d decided to change. 

Him getting you coffee turned into you getting him coffee. Him helping you on cases turned into you practically ignoring him unless you were alone, or at home. Him giving his opinion on anything you’d usually ask him to give his opinion on, turned into never asking his opinion. Him driving you to the gym turned into you walking there and back alone. Maybe that one was a mistake… 

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You sat in the passenger seat of his car, the rain had ruined your hair, your active clothes sticking to your body, and his voice droning on in a lecture of why it wasn’t safe to walk home at 11pm alone. 

“I mean I seriously don’t understand baby, why can’t you just let me pick you up?-” he was worried. The kind of worry that made someone pissed off. 

“Why can’t I just let you pick me up, Derek?” You mocked. “I fucking wonder why.” 

“You wanna’ tell me something baby?” He cocked his head to the side, glancing at you quickly. 

“No,” you mumbled. 

“What is wrong with you this week? We’re barely spending any time together, you won’t let me drive you anywhere, you’re acting like I’m not there at work-”

“I’m trying Derek, alright. Give me a fucking break,” you huffed.

“What are you ‘trying’ to do?” He asked, genuine confusion coating his words. 

You just sighed and left the car as he parked it outside your shared apartment. You stood in the elevator, his jacket around your shoulders, feeling silly. Why had you let him pick you up? Oh yeah, three guys were following you. Probably the safer choice, though it didn’t make you feel any less childish. 

You’re so high maintenance, a voice in your head nagged and you slipped his jacket off and handed it to him. 

“Baby, can you just talk to me?” he asked, pulling the emergency stop button and turning to you. 

“About what?” You started the elevator again, wanting to ignore whatever issue he thought you two had. 

“Baby, if I did something-”

“You did nothing,” you reassured him with a sad chuckle.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, taking your hand in his. “Please talk to me.”

You looked down at his hand, a sad smile on your face. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me anyway,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Do you think I’m high maintenance?” You asked, scared of his answer. 

He smiled down at you and sighed. “You’re a little high maintenance.”

“Oh…” you sighed. So Dave was right. Everything he’d said was right. Derek probably finds you so annoying. He probably hates you.

“But I like getting to do the maintenance. I like taking care of you,” he smirked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m glad you let me take care of you.”

“What?” You stared at him and he pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“I like maintaining you,” he repeated and a smile spread across your face. 

Who listens to Rossi anyway?

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criminal minds masterlist :) - requests are open! :)