#his little rei shirt has me smiling so big :')

[peachsukii]

@saexy spoils me 🧡🥺💜

[jamminvroomvroom]

🎀 anon

congrats on 5k

hey bb ! i’ve been brainrotting on insatiable lando and his gf for weeks now omg

for a cute lil fic i was thinking of reader being max f’s sister and lando and her being secretly together. they’re all on vacation together and lando and reader are super insanely insatiable and the story on how they act on vacay 😈😈

anywhere she wants.

ln x fem fewtrell!reader

in which no one approves of your relationship, so lando shows them just how good he is to you…

oh my sweet 🎀 anon, i’m sorry this took so long! slowly getting back into the groove of writing, starting with this little piece! i went a bit off script but the vibes are hopefully similar to the request! huge thanks to angel bby @fairene for helping me out!enjoy! lemme know what you think!! big hugs and lots of love 💖

songs to set the mood: my love mine all mine by mitski, i know places by taylor swift, she will be loved by maroon 5, summertime sadness by lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, fluff, angst, a bit of exhibitionism kinda, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, established relationship, max being a dick, angry/feral!lando, girlboss!reader, hints of ownership kink? for like. a second, lando being wise (not canon lmao), swearing

4.2k words

fairy lights drench the pool with light, a glow dancing over the still surface in ripples. you smile, hum with content as the warm evening air washes over your skin, leaning over the balcony to take in the sight of where you’ll be staying.

footsteps sound from behind you, the master bedroom, and you quickly feel two warm arms wrap around your waist, tan and thick. you lean into his touch, chest warming from the kisses peppered over your jugular.

“you like it?” lando breathes, nosing over your earlobe.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper, turning your head to nuzzle against him. he seizes the opportunity to seal his lips over yours, kissing you soft and deep. you spin in his arms, clutching at his shirt to hold him close, the kiss intensifying, changing pace. just as he licks into your mouth, a sigh, so loud that it breaks the sound barrier, tears you both apart.

“so is that all you two do now, suck each others faces?” max rolls his eyes, his disapproval of your relationship one of the worlds worst kept secrets.

“yes, max. that’s all we do.” you mock, biting back at your older brother.

because of course you’re dating your brothers best friend. of course you are. life is funny like that.

lando stays silent, but you feel his hand on your waist tightening. max swallows hard.

“we ordered pizza, if you guys wanna come down.” max bulldozes through the awkwardness, offering an olive branch, and leaves.

“he is such a knob.” you mutter, shaking your head. lando strokes tentatively over your cheek, soothing you.

“he’s your big brother, baby. he’ll get over this.” lando coos reassuringly, and you choose the easy path of believing him.

you and max occupy opposite ends of the excessively large dining table when you join the rest of your friends.

the tension has been palpable between you and max since he caught you sneaking out of lando’s london flat one morning, the reason for your visit quite clear. you’d stood with your ear to the door when he’d stormed past you and entered the apartment, making you more than aware that your presence was unwanted when he quickly slammed the door behind him.

you’d endured the one-sided screaming match that followed, the accusations that lando must be playing with your feelings, that it would never work out, that it wasn’t fair at how exposed you’d be to the cruelty of his fan base, that he couldn’t believe how low lando would stoop to date his little fucking sister.

you wanted to understand, and really, you tried!but max hadn’t made it easy, constantly pushing your buttons and making needless digs at the both of you. lando convinced you that this holiday during the summer break would be healing; max would get to see how much lando cared for you, and everyone got much needed time to relax. so, with your friend group in tow, the three of you jetted off to the tiny spanish island.

surely, everything would be fine.

-

everything was not, in fact, fine.

you can smell it in the air, the tension building thick and heavy. everyone thought they were slick, waiting for lando to leave so they could corner you, and corner you, they did.

lando had kissed you sweetly by the sliding doors to the garden, popping his airpods in and shouting a quick: going on a run! to the rest of your holiday party. you’d sauntered carelessly to a lounger, bikini clad, sprawling out across the chair to tan and watch the who can do the best canon ball into the pool competition that has become a long running championship. but you can feel stares, feel the walls closing in, and you push your sunglasses up to rest over your hairline.

max and pietra are locked in on you, as are the rest of your friends.

“what?” you feel hot, embarrassed all of the sudden for no reason at all.

“so, it’s going well, then… with lando?” one of your girlfriends starts, but it sounds extra high pitched, awkward. your stomach sinks as you realise the pathetically choreographed dance about to take place.

“for fuck sake.” you mutter.

“she’s just asking!” max shoots back, as if he’s offended, as if you can’t see right through him.

“it’s going great.” you state, blunt as ever whenever your relationship is questioned.

“we just wanna make sure that this is right for you.” pietra says sympathetically, her eyes soft. you’ve known her long enough to know that even though her dickhead boyfriend is being callous, she genuinely cares.

“lando is right for me, you are all so full of shit! i don’t get what it is that you’re seeing.” you try and keep your voice level, even as your blood pressure begins to rise menacingly.

“it’s not so much what we see between you, it’s more about what he was like before.” tom jumps in.

ah, yes. the infamous hoe phase.

“because no one here ever fucked around.” you glare pointedly at your brother. he lowers his gaze.

“are we sure this isn’t just a… a fling?” pietra tries again, staying soft. her words still sting.

“yeah, i know him better than you do, and i-“ max’s voice cuts you like a thousand shards of glass and you body ignites with rage.

he knows him better? what does he know?

does he know that lando can’t sleep without telling you that he loves you? does he know that lando cried into you arms after his miami win? does he know that lando feels itchy if he doesn’t tell you that you’re beautiful at least eleven times an hour? does he know that you’re so crazy about his gorgeous, loving, infuriating best friend that you’re prepared to tell your brother where to go and to never come back?

“shut the fuck up, max. you know nothing! nothing about our relationship because you never gave us a chance. you don’t see how much i love him because every time you see us together, you’re hellbent on destroying our happiness.” you point angrily, standing from your chair. before you turn to the house, you leave them all with a parting message.

“and all of you will do very well to remember who paid to bring your bitter arses here. remember whose fucking house you’re in.” you lecture, watching as they all turn sheepish as they realise how ungrateful they sound.

“i don’t think i have anything to add.” you hear from behind you.

you jump, turning to see lando leaning against the door.

“shit, baby.” you breathe, rushing towards him, your skin crawling as you wonder how much he’s heard.

“forgot my phone.” he shrugs, smiling warmly at you. only at you. “now unless anyone has anything to add, i’m gonna take my very, very serious girlfriend upstairs.” he grins smugly.

the silence is so deafening that you couldn’t of even heard a pin drop if you’d tried.

you hold up your middle finger as he leads you away.

your bedroom door slams so hard that they must hear it outside. he’s tense, enraged at the disrespect that you’d endured, but he’s soft with you, pulling you into his rigid body. he relaxes into you, walking you further into the room.

“how much did you hear?” you whisper, clinging to him.

“oh, you know, just all of it.” he laughs bitterly, fingers sinking into your hips.

“they’re assholes.” you growl, threading your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes it.

“there is one good thing about it though.” lando hums, still guiding you deeper into the room. your back thuds softly against the sliding glass door, the one that leads to your balcony.

“what?” you breathe, suddenly extremely aware of his lower body.

“you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad.” he smirks.

turns out, he didn’t steal you away to mope.

his lips crash against yours fiercely, teeth and tongue getting in on the action as he moves his mouth feverishly against your own. your neck tilts back, allowing him to swallow you whole, like his life depends on the feeling of you pressed against him. he trails kisses over your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, two fingers grazing your ribcage. he snaps the tie of your bikini against your skin, stone cold aware of the lack of clothing adorning your body and he hums low from the back of his throat.

“they need to learn that you’re mine, that you’re always gonna be mine.” lando grunts, pulling away to slide the door open. he pushes you out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the very pool that your friends and your brother are licking their wounds around.

“lando…” you gasp, weary of his overly adventurous attitude.

“maybe this will make them realise just how crazy you make me.” lando looks possessed, moving towards you like a wild animal engulfing its prey.

he cages you in against the wall, pulling one leg over his hip to spread you open, his fingers travelling to the flimsy tie of your bikini bottoms. you’re already soaked, embarrassingly so, really, but there’s just something about those gorgeous, haunted eyes. lando let’s the bottoms fall to the floor, kicking them away impatiently as he quickly finds home between your legs.

“think anyone else can get you this wet?” lando asks, eyes rolling back as he finds your slick folds. your jaw drops, already boneless at the feel of him. “answer me, baby. nice ‘n loud for me.” he demands.

“no, lan.” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. he’s teasing, stroking lightly over your folds and your sensitive bud.

“and can anyone else make you feel this good? i mean, baby, i’ve barely touched you and you’re shaking.” lando’s teeth catch his bottom lip, his eyes glazing over as he watches you.

“lando, please.” you mutter, grinding down on his hand. you need more of him. he grins, flashing his teeth with pride as he renders you desperate.

“my pretty girl fucking my hand, god, you’re so perfect.” lando praises, earning a moan from your kiss-swollen lips. “bet they can hear how soaked you are, baby.”

you flush red, shame and embarrassment blurring the pleasure and you press a tense hand to your mouth, trying to silence the waterfall of whines.

“don’t you fucking dare.” he warns, sliding his fingers deep into your pussy. he gives you no time to adjust, curling them upwards and rocking his whole hand against you. his palm bumps against your clit and you writhe against the wall.

there’s no point covering your mouth, there is no hiding what’s happening. you let him have you how he wants you, a consolation for him having to hear his friends badmouth him, and he takes every liberty, mouthing at your covered tits, lapping over your peaked nipples. you cry out, weak as he manipulates your body closer to an orgasm, your wetness trickling down his wrist.

“so good to me, baby, only you, lando.” you choke, your voice echoing between the stone walls.

“that’s it, honey, make a mess for me. let ‘em hear you pretty girl.” he encourages, talking you straight into your first orgasm.

you tremble, gushing all over his hand as you cum, droplets splattering all over the paved floor. lando’s eyes turn black, mouth hanging open as he watches you fall apart, riding you through it.

lando let’s you cool down, propping you carefully against the wall, and leaning over the balcony. funnily enough, max is long gone, but the rest of them sit in stunned silence. he can’t help himself, driven mad by your quivering body and their cruel jabs, choosing whatever the opposite of the high road is. he reaches into his pocket, finding his credit card.

“get out of the villa that i paid for so i can fuck my girlfriend anywhere she wants.” he shouts, watching the way their necks snap up to look at him, revelling in their reddened faces that are not just flushed from the sun. “take this. have dinner. just fuck off.” he frisbees his card at tom, - rather carelessly really, considering just how much there was to lose on that little black square - and he revels in the way it lands square against his forehead.

they all stand up and scurry away, as few faint sorry’s! carrying through the air towards the couple on the balcony, but lando has more important business to attend to.

he scoops you up into his arms, grinning at your coy smile and your drooping eyes. he carries you to bed, planting you in the middle of the mattress.

“not done with you yet, baby, open those eyes for me.” lando coos, crawling over you, his shirt and workout shorts flung to the other side of the room. he feels delicious against you, caging you in beneath him.

“want you, lan.” you plead, a desperate smile on your face as you keen, stretching against the mattress like a cat.

“you’ll have me, baby. always gonna have me.” he smiles, eyes finding yours. “i love you.”

“love you so much.” you whisper, pulling him flush against you. “no matter what.” you affirm. he needed to hear that, it seems, his eyes sparkling with something else, other than the sheen of lust.

he kisses you, firm and wanting, his fingertips sliding up over your arms, leaving prickles of lightning and goosebumps in their wake. one of his hands interlocks with yours, twining together above your head, his body stretching languidly over yours. you can feel him, hard and throbbing between your legs, teetering on the knife edge of self control.

“take me, lando. have me how you want me. ‘m yours.” you croon, disguising a helpless whine as you arch your body into his. you’re squirming for it, to feel him sink deep and claim you his.

that seems to usher him along, and he drags his cock through your folds with a slow roll of his hips, the head catching your sodden entrance. you hiss, the intrusion not even nearly enough, but the sensation overwhelming you nonetheless. he slides into you carefully, stilling when his hips hit flush against yours. you do not want careful.

“fuck me.” you groan wetly, hot breath fanning his face as your mouth instinctively fills with saliva. you’re close to drooling for him.

“beg.” he snaps, jaw tight as he battles his natural instinct to utterly ravage you. “beg me to show you that i own you.”

your legs quiver, pussy clenching around him and he cannot help but buck his hips and suppress a whine. he styles it out, tantalisingly slow as he rolls his hips, grinding against your pleasure point, your slick walls. blood rushes in your ears, your body feral with need. you can’t even tease, disobey him for the fun of it, not when he’s wound you up so delectably. your body keens for him, hums with the sparks, a live wire.

“don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done,” you slur, beginning to ramble. “want to feel you so deep that i’m ruined. ‘m yours, lando. have me.” you plead.

pleasure shoots through him, then, rapid and unwavering. he’s unforgiving as he rails into you, immediately stoking the fire in your belly. all of his body weight is on you, sweaty skin sticking and slapping as his hipbones bruise into yours.

“is that how you want it, huh, baby?” he manages to growl, scooping up your wrists in one big paw, his other hand working down the planes and curves of your body. he finds the triangles of your bikini top, hastily tearing them down just enough so that your tits spill out. all for him. all his. “look at this perfect fucking body,” his breathe hitches, awestruck. “is it all mine?”

you cry out, nodding shamelessly as he ghosts his fingers around the swell of your nipple, switching to the other when he’s satisfied with the peak. he alternates between them, twisting and tugging, barely there and all too hard. you can only plead his name and tighten around his cock.

once he’s overstimulated your chest, he works his fingers further down your body, stopping now and then to dig into your flesh, appreciating the soft feeling of your skin under his calloused hands.

“and this hot, little cunt… is this mine, too?” lando breathes, right against the shell of your ear. his thumb presses hard against your thrumming clit, smearing your slick over the bud. “to play with? is it baby?”

“god, yes.” you manage to bellow, the strained words tearing over your vocal chords.

“yes, what?” lando snaps, slapping lightly over the bundle of nerves.

“it’s yours!” you sob, choking on your own voice.

“to…?” lando coaxes, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips as he looks at you expectantly.

“to play with.” you stutter, cheeks tinged hot with embarrassment that seeps down your neck and between your sweat-dampened bodies.

“that’s my good girl. my pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“‘m so close.” you breathe, writhing up the mattress, his body atop your inescapable. he toys with your clit, pinching the electrified nerves, watching how you buck your hips and leak onto the mattress. he’s covered in you, his belly glistening in the sunlight that washes over you, sealing you forever in this golden, sparkling moment.

“want me to cum all over your tummy, baby? mark you mine?” lando gasps, driving into you with one goal in mind. he has to get you there, wants to be painted in the remnants of your pleasure and hung up in every art museum in the world. if only he wasn’t so selfish, yearning to keep this stunning sight to himself for the rest of his life.

“n-no,” you pause, your jaw going slack for a moment as he circles your clit just right, grinds his hips so deep. “inside me.” you beg.

“fill me up.”

his vision blurs.

lando just about folds you in half, carnal desire surging through his veins. the hand keeping yours suspended over your head falls away, finding your navel where he applied a brutal, sweet pressure that leaves you blind and wailing. his other fingers busy themselves sinking into the meat of your thigh, dragging you backwards and forwards on his throbbing length.

your body goes limp, tears of pleasure trailing wetly down your face as your orgasm hits you, and lando can’t help but bury himself as deep as he can go. the rutting of his hips and the messy rub of his whole hand against your clit leaves you awestruck, sobbing into the air of the room. you’re covering him in waves, shivering as you grow overstimulated but you can’t help but chase the high. your violent quivers and dripping cunt make him whine, high pitched and divine, and he drops onto you, filling you up. he can’t seem to stop, painting you white from the inside out, watching the way it drips out of you, coating the base of his cock.

this can’t be over yet, he decides. he needs to hear you scream.

“lemme help you with that.” he mumbles, slinking down your body, eyes fixed solely on where you were joined together.

you don’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of him buried inside of you, no. you’re too busy pushing at his curls, pleading that he lets up, but he can’t. it’s not that he won’t, it’s that he quite simply can’t.

his tongue runs up the seam of your pussy, lapping over the mixture you’ve made and you can’t do anything but cry and thrash, white hot with pleasure and pain. its so good that it hurts, and you give in, knowing that he isn’t going to stop unless you say the magic words. lord knows, you won’t. lando knows you won’t.

it’s torturous, really, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, drags his tongue over his mess and slips it right into your entrance. he swirls and sucks and nips and tugs. it’s like he’s turned a faucet on, watching hazily as you drip and drip, more of you and him seeping onto his tongue. he’s insatiable as he licks you clean, unable to resist luring you into a third orgasm.

and when it hits, god, does it hit.

the scream he pulls from your body is deafening, makes him shake with the intensity of it, the vibrations rippling through your body and ricocheting off of his. you relax limply into the mattress, urgently needing a break. you watch through hooded eyes as he slurps anything left of you from his reddened lips, your thighs clenching unconsciously. he just chuckles, flopping down beside you.

“tired, baby?” lando teases, stroking over your rapidly rising and falling ribs.

“just a tad.” you deadpan, unable to hold back the giggles as serotonin soothes you.

“oh, sweetheart. i’m not even nearly done with you yet.” lando grins toothily, deviously.

something he said about fucking you ‘anywhere’ you wanted dawns on you and your eyes widen.

-

anywhere really did mean anywhere.

he’d had to carry you to the shower when you were finally done, holding you close under the spray. you were lost to the memory of him pushing you into the sideboard in the hallway, laying you flat across the kitchen counter, eating you like dessert on the very same sun lounger that you’d been perched on when this whole marathon commenced.

you’re utterly spent, eyelids sagging when he finally sets you down on the sofa, playing on his phone while you fall asleep watching the office.

you’re curled up in lando’s lap, legs hanging over the end of the sofa when max finds you. hair still wet from the much needed shower and fast asleep in his best friends arms. he actively chooses to quell the disgusted curl of his lips. you look so peaceful, safe. his plans to throttle lando for his earlier stint subside.

“call me a wankstain on society later, if you want, but please don’t wake her up.” lando speaks with a hushed tone, not even gracing max with eye contact, his eyes remaining on the candies he’d been crushing before the other fewtrell turned up.

“i- no, i wasn’t gonna call you that. i did, however, consider driving that very nice, very vintage lambo you hired off a cliff.” max mutters. lando scoffs a laugh.

“you would have paid for it.” he still doesn’t look up from the phone. max eyes the way lando strokes your side, in time with the crests and falls of your breath. it’s tender, intimate.

max considers that there’s a strong possibility he was wrong.

“mate, listen-“

“nope. she’s your baby sister, i get it. i get it. you can hate me for it, but you crossed a line going after her like that.” lando finally looks up at max, glowering sternly.

“i’m gonna talk to her.” max bows his head, as if he’s ashamed of himself and lando softens slightly.

“you should, mate. she wants your support, your approval means everything.” lando says. “look, i love her. i really do. and while you were accusing me of trying to ruin her life, you were crushing her.” lando sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of pain. max meets his gaze.

“for the record, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for my little sister, but you come pretty fucking close.” max relents, pushing his pride aside, finally. lando smiles, small and knowing.

“i just wanna make her happy.” he shrugs, a look of hopeless romance, utter devotion and pure happiness radiating off of him in waves as he gazes down at your frame. something in max’s belly snaps, the apprehension dissolving to mush. he had gotten this all wrong.

“you do.” he hums, watching how you curl further into lando as you stir in your sleep, the drivers fingers delicately combing your hair away from your face. “but,” max quips.

lando grimaces, bracing himself.

“if you ever, ever, pull something like that again,” max shivers with disgust at the insinuation. “i will remove your bollocks and make you watch me crash the miura.” max swears, pointing a finger of warning.

“seems like everyone’s come to their senses, no more… pranks from me.” lando holds his free hand up in mock surrender.

“have you two kissed and made up yet?” you murmur, stretching out in lando’s arms. you rub sleep from your eyes, sitting up and leaning into your boyfriends solid frame, resting against him as your eyes flit to your brother.

“we’re good. ‘m, uh, sorry.” max nods, attempting to be heartfelt. lando chokes on a laugh as it falls flat.

“you’re “uh, sorry”?” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i’m really sorry.” max tries again, and you grin cheekily at your brother, watching as his shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all afternoon. he turns to leave, halfway to the door when you call out to him.

“hey, max?”

“yeah, lovely?” your chest warms at the sweet nickname. you’d forgotten the last time he’d called you that.

“wash your sheets.” your eyes blaze with amusement and you hear lando’s sharp inhale of breath, shocked that you’d gone there.

“you didn’t- my god, you did not-“ max splutters, his face almost green with nausea.

“you’ll never know for sure.” you grin. you think he’s going to faint.

serves the bastard right.

-

hehe

lemme know what u think!! <33

-

taglist

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[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: jj's made a bad habit of sneaking into your bedroom at midnight.

word count: 3.5k

now spinning: radio by lana del rey

author's note: finally some jayj!! <3 writing this felt like coming home. i hope i did him justice! tags: adorably in love jj and reader. smut but make it cute (heavy grinding/petting, jj calls you princess b/c duh<3, he uses a condom bc no breeding kink here! jj sucks your tits through your (his) shirt because..yah)

JJ makes his way into the window of your bedroom, trying to be as quiet and careful as he can.

You stand back a little, trying to give him enough room to get in, but just as he swings his other leg over, he stumbles and a small succulent in a ceramic pot on your windowsill goes flying.

You freeze, scared that the thud of his leg on the window frame was enough to wake up your parents—who unfortunately share the room right next to you. JJ’s hands stick out immediately to catch the little plant, and then somehow, he juggles it into place while steadying his feet. 

You let out a sigh of relief, and he places the little plant safely on your nightstand.

“That thing’s a troublemaker. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” He whispers, already knowing from all the previous times how thin your walls are.

Time before last, he leaned back against the headboard too hard while you were riding him, and just the noise of it hitting the wall was enough to result in a knock on your bedroom door. He blames you for that one, though, and the next time your parents come in, they notice you’ve moved your bed across the room. 

“This one was your fault,” you reply, unsurprisingly giddy now that your boyfriend is here. 

“Nuh-uh, princess, that was all you. Why’d you leave the cactus there, huh? You tryna get me caught?” 

You shake your head but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face and the quiet laugh from escaping, trying to explain that it’s not a cactus, but the words melting on your tongue. You watch as JJ carefully closes the window—he’d prefer to leave it open so he can sneak back out without much noise, but you get cold, so he pushes it down as gently as he can.

You can’t help it—you always end up staring, eyes fixated on his arms and the way they stretch and flex while he adjusts your pink curtains and makes sure no one can see inside. You don’t care if the neighbors watch. Let them, you think, JJ and I will give them a show.

He turns around to really take a look at you, mind always going a mile a minute thinking about how deep of a slumber your parents might be in, if he remembered to grab a condom (he’d forgotten it earlier in the month and you’d been so disappointed, he had to eat you out for an hour just to apologize), and then he thinks he wouldn’t be so upset if he did forget it. Finally he wonders if you have any snacks in your bedroom, which you normally don’t, but he’s feeling hungry today. 

When he finally takes you in, you’re standing there with that pretty smile he loves so much, the sleep sets you used to wear every night forgone for one of his big t-shirts instead, the ones with tiny holes near the hem, one that’s probably been passed around between him, Pope, and John, but has now ended up in your closet as a permanent piece.

You told him a story a while back, about how your parents question why you never put on pajamas straight after dinner anymore, like you used to. It’s because JJ’s shirts are your pajamas now and you can’t let them see. 

“Why don’t you just, y’know, change after they go to bed?” He asks after hearing that story, rubbing the small of your back under the very same shirt, wondering how smart a girl as you are didn’t think of that idea first. 

You don’t answer straight away, instead pressing your face further into his chest and inhaling that scent which is so uniquely JJ—ocean and sand and that car smell since he was probably working on something before getting his favorite text of any night from you, from anyone, really—They just went to bed.

You mumble something into the skin of his sternum, unintelligible and quiet, and he has to use his other hand to move your head up.

“Sorry, princess, getting some static here. Repeat that for me?” He cups his ear to listen in, which makes you laugh.

“Just wanna feel close to you,” you repeat, even softer, immediately resting your face back on his chest once you finish. 

You’re sure he doesn’t understand what you mean, because it’s deeply rooted in you, that you hate the way your parents treat JJ. They’re not so rich or Kooky to judge him for not being so, and they’re overprotective of you, always have been, but they act so differently around him. They barely give him a chance, no matter how much you affirm that you’re so happy, that you’re only that way because you’re with JJ now. 

They look at the stuff that doesn’t matter—the motorcycle he rides, ignoring the pretty pink helmet he got for you sitting next to his own. They don’t know that he worries about keeping you safe, so much so that he borrows the Twinkie twice as much as he used to, because the idea of you getting hurt on his bike scares him. It scares him enough that he didn’t let you ride with him forever, that it took months of begging to even make him consider the idea. 

They look at his clothes and his shoes and don’t like that they can’t invite his parents over for dinner, don’t like the idea of you going to his place but don’t like him coming over either. When they do finally grant your permission to hang out with him at your home, you have to stay in the living room the whole time, television on and playing some stupid movie you could care less about—but at least JJ’s here, at least he’s holding you. 

You feel embarrassed, about the reason why you wear his shirt, about how your parents behave, about how you can’t do anything at your house but watch reruns and eat some snacks, your parents wafting in every now and then to make sure nothing’s changed. 

And he tries, he really does, which makes your heart thud and causes a warm, happy tingle to extend from your ears to your toes. He shows up with flowers for the house, a bottle of wine for your parents, a bone for your dog.

He’s trying to save up for a car so your parents don’t associate him with the roar of his bike taking off and the danger he’s putting their daughter in (you almost cry when he tells you this, partly because it’s so sweet, partly because you love that bike, love everything about that bike—your pink helmet, holding onto JJ’s stomach on a ride, the way he sometimes props you up on it and tells you he’ll reward you if you’ll be good for him—which you always are. 

Putting on other clothes—clothes that don’t belong to JJ—in front of your parents so they don’t feel uncomfortable at the sight of you in his shirt, is a sacrifice you refuse to make. It’s your way of rebelling, as insignificant and silly as it is, affirming that you’re not gonna cave and end your relationship because they don’t approve. It’s hard, for a people-pleaser like yourself, taking a stand against your parents. You don’t possibly expect him to understand, but you think he does that day, with the way he smothers you in kisses all night, and continues the affection on your sofa the next day, no matter who’s watching.

He snuck in that night too—pulling a pair of socks from his pocket for you. 

“Got you some more clothes of mine, so you can take your little stand without it being so obvious-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because you leap into his arms to hug him so tightly, he can’t catch his breath for a minute.

That had been months ago. Since then, you and JJ spent nearly every other night together, trying as hard as possible to stay quiet and not get caught. He seems more worried about it than you do, like tonight. 

“Your dad doesn’t have any firepower in the house, right? Like any bazookas or something?” he asks, walking closer to you, away from the window. You shake your head, laughing silently. It’s harder and harder not to be all smiles around JJ anymore. “Good,” he says, not as quietly as before. He brings you in for a hug, arms tight on your back, face buried in your hair. “Missed you, baby.”

You hold on with your little grip for as long as you can, finding it even harder to let go after hearing him say those words—you’d seen him earlier today, briefly, but this was his first time sneaking in since yet another scare a few days ago.

You only pull away because he does, taking off his hat and setting it on your yellow quilt. He sits down, beckoning you over, and you respond immediately, crawling into his lap like you always do. You could sit like this forever.

“It should be illegal for us to go this long without seeing each other,” he murmurs against your shoulder, before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. His shirt hangs off of you, giving him easy access. 

“I saw you this morning, silly,” you whisper, not moving, head buried into his neck.

“For like a minute,” his hands go to your hips, adjusting your position to get you more comfortable in his grip. His fingers press into the skin there, available since you were only wearing panties under his shirt, no shorts to get in the way. “Can’t do anything to you in a minute.”

“That’s not what I remember—” but before you can finish, he silences you with a kiss, soft and chaste. 

“Hey,” he starts, while you begin to giggle at the memory. “I thought we weren’t gonna bring that up anymore. S’your fault, anyways.” He trails off, kissing you again. “That sundress has magic in it, or something, not normal-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, deepening the kiss, your whole face feeling hot now at the mention of the memory—the first time the two of you had done anything more than making out.

“Woah, woah,” he says, pulling away again, making you groan in frustration. “Did you lure me here under false pretenses? Are you tryna take advantage of me right now? Because I came here to cuddle-”

“Shut up, Jayj,” and you go back to finish your kiss, your hips moving by themselves. You don’t realize you’re doing it, you never do, until JJ tells you. His hands move down, grabbing the fat of your ass and squeezing while he makes you do all the work, for now, at least.

You work yourself up quickly, you always do when you’re with him, and you could finish just like this if he lets you, grinding your cunt against his hard-on, multiple layers of clothes between the two of you. 

He likes to see you get worked up, so he’ll let you do it for a little bit longer, lips still attached, his tongue in your mouth. He slides his hand around where your panties rest on your hip, knotting his fingers between the fabric, his other hand resting on your hip and loosely guiding your motions.

“Feel good, baby?” he finally asks, not loud but not as quiet as before, either. You don’t care much at the moment. 

“Uh-huh,” you whine, feeling yourself get closer, something in your stomach winding up tensely and making you want to increase your speed. You try, but JJ’s hand controls you, tightening up and squeezing like it’s a warning—slow down. 

“Can’t make a mess like this, remember, pretty girl?” he asks but you’re only half there, half paying attention. Your eyes are squeezed shut, skin feeling so ablaze that you’re sure there’s beads of sweat lining your neck and face, hands gripping the material of JJ’s shirt while you rock yourself back and forth. 

He watches carefully, eyes raking in your pretty face all twisted like this, your lips swollen and red from the biting since you can’t make any noise, your hardened nipples poking through the material of his shirt. He wants to wrap his mouth around one and play with it using his tongue, not even bothering to lift the shirt out of the way, but he refrains, since he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he does, and if you cum, he’ll cum.

“Don’t care,” you exhale, breathy and pitchy. He doesn’t even remember what you’re talking about. “I want your mess-” and your head tips forward, resting on his shoulder while he still moves you with his big hands. 

It’s all of it, all at once—the fact that you haven’t been able to do much of anything, but especially this, with JJ in days, how hard he is and how good it feels to rub your pussy against him instead of your pillow, the fact that despite his shorts and your underwear in the way, you can almost feel the veins of his pretty dick, the ridge that usually has him slapping a hand over your mouth because you can’t help the noises that come out when you feel it inside you. 

You’re so close—and you don’t care about the condom, about how everything’ll be sloppy and sticky after this, so you try to go even faster, until you feel the entirely too-strong hands of your boyfriend manhandling you, pulling you off and laying you flat onto the bed in one motion.

“Wha- Jayj,” you whine again, so much louder than you thought it would come out. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears, brain turned to mush and clit throbbing from the sudden lack of contact. 

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna get us both killed-” and you look up at him with wet eyes and your signature pout, the one that gets you anything you want—midnight trips for ice cream, convincing him to sleep over even when he knows your parents will pop in when it’s morning, going on a ride on his bike when he’d thought it was way too dangerous. “M’giving you what you want, okay, so settle down-”

You try to be as good as you can, watching patiently while your thighs tremble and an uncomfortable, hot wetness pools between your legs. JJ pulls off his shirt, frees his dick from the constraint of his shorts, and lets out a little hiss when he sees the wet spot on his clothes from where you were just having fun. 

“Dirty girl,” he says, but he’s smiling, not upset. “Made a mess already, even without me.” You let out more shaky breaths at his words, half-listening, eyes focused on the pink color of his thick cock, the way he strokes himself before putting the condom on. Your mind has turned off, every single thought except JJ leaving your head.

“Gonna be quiet this time?” he asks softly, lining himself up with your wet cunt, eyes almost rolling back into his head at the way you suck him in. You’re all tense, stomach in knots and pussy clamping just thinking about every inch he’s going to give you, the stretch he puts your tight hole through. You don’t mind much though.

“Your fault,” you mumble, in a daze. You love everything about JJ, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he’s hovering over you like this, when he licks his lip when he rakes his gaze across your body, how he smirks at you when you get like this.

He lowers his face close to yours and your eyelids flutter shut, expecting a kiss, but instead he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin while you try to stay silent, and then he buries himself into you, all the way all at once, and you strangle a scream back so it dies in your throat. 

It’s like it’s the first time, every time, with the way he feels inside, the way you’ve never really gotten accustomed to how big JJ is.

“Sure, baby, my fault,” he finally agrees, letting go of the hold his teeth have on your skin. That'll leave a bruise tomorrow, and the rush he feels from that goes straight to his dick. “This one’s my fault too.”

You don’t pay attention to his words or the stinging sensation on your neck, because the entirely overwhelming feeling of JJ inside you, slamming in and out while you’re forced to stay silent, fogs your brain. JJ hovers over you, and your hands find their way around his neck, snaking into his hair, pulling gently while he lowers himself for another kiss—hot, wet, even messier. 

He keeps you this way often, so he can swallow your moans and let you be as loud as you need without much as much of a risk. Your bedroom fills with the slap of skin on skin, his hips ramming against yours.

You’d cry out because it hurts, but the way JJ fills you is anything but painful—it’s excruciatingly good, makes your toes curl while you feel that tense knot in your stomach beginning to unravel by itself, JJ hitting that sensitive part of you deep inside.

But it’s always more than that—it’s his the messy press of his fingers against your clit, the way he dips his head and takes your pert, clothed nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue, and then when he hears you getting loud, he goes back to kissing you, quieting you. He thinks about everything so you don’t have to, heading tipping back onto the pillow and squeals leaving your mouth without a second thought. 

You knead your fingers into his hair, holding him in place so he doesn’t pull away from the kiss, because you know you’re about to get loud.

He does pull away—easily fighting your weak grip to bring his mouth to your neck, kissing the love-bites he already left there. You feel JJ’s hot breath on your ear, already a mess, already close, but you tip over the edge when he talks to you, as quiet as he can. 

“Come on pretty girl, make a mess for me-” and you follow his instructions without another moment’s hesitation, the walls of your pussy fluttering and then clamping tight around him, moans swallowed into his mouth as he kisses you again. You writhe around, toes curling, entire body tensing, staring up at your pretty boyfriend for as long as you can before your eyes shut, mind numb from pleasure. 

It doesn’t take much for JJ after that—the feel of your nails scratching his back, how your pussy clenches around him, the moans he wishes he could hear loud and clear. In a final lustful, selfish thought, he imagines you screaming under him, begging for more, not satisfied until he makes a mess inside your little cunt and fills you up. He spills into the condom seconds after, grunting into your neck and wishing the two of you were anywhere else but the bedroom next to where your parents are asleep. 

The room is silent again, save for the heavy breaths leaving both of you. JJ moves first, carefully settling next to you because the bed creaks on his side. He sits up against the headboard, safe because they’re on the opposite wall now, and moves your tired, languid body into his arms, head resting against his chest. 

“Well, you made a mess, alright. Hope you do your own laundry.” You giggle, hand coming up to rest above his heart, fingers tracing patterns into his soft skin.

He sighs quietly, a gentle sign he likes your touch. You could fall asleep in minutes like this, the heat from JJ keeping you warm, the content feeling in your heart making you smile dopily. JJ notices, leaning down to give you another kiss.

He stares into the distance with a hand stroking your back, under his shirt. He looks around your cute room—the overflowing bookshelf, the photos taped up on the walls (mostly of the two of you, he thinks with a touch of smugness), a pile of his shirts that are now your sleep clothes folded neatly in your hamper, freshly laundered. 

JJ thinks he’d do anything to stay like this, with you resting in his arms, forever. 

“I’m gonna do it, I swear,” he starts, not as quietly as before. It’s a gentle sentiment, like he’s reading you a vow. “I’ll do anything I have to, I’ll make ‘em like me. One day I’ll show up here and they’re gonna be happy to see me. I’m gonna get better.”

“You’re already perfect, Jayj,” you whisper back, eyes closed because you feel tears lining up. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything. I love you.” 

He smiles again, eyes closing. He’s about to say it back when there’s a sharp knock on your door, and the handle starts to turn.

[joelsmochi]

Be The Boss - Javier Peña

loosely (actually extremely) inspired by the song you can be the boss by lana del rey ♡ i woke up with this idea and immediately got to writing, i love you smut sluts <3 hope you enjoy :3 this is also all lowercase ! i'm thinking of making a part 2... >:)

plot: ofc genie stumbles across javier in more places than one, and they... can't get enough of each other.

warnings: SIMP!javi, language, soulmates trope, mention of drug use, reader is a bit of a javi apologist (i meannnnn), creampie, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), some angst, mentions of death, choking, office sex, public sex, chance of getting caught, sex with other people nearby (not involved), i may have flexed the timeline of the story a bit + steve is there during the cali cartel job (just for storytelling purposes), prob typos + grammatical errors (english & spanish). lmk if i missed anything pls!!!

wc: 9.1k

masterlist

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those blue jeans and that white button-up shirt had genie fanning herself since she walked into the supermarket, but what kept making it worse was that the universe seemed to be forcing the two adults into the same aisle. she’d purposefully skip an aisle she needed to go down and circle back later only to find he still spawned wherever she went.

not like she was too awfully mad though. she knew it was just a mere coincidence, or maybe he found her attractive too. maybe she was the one following him, and not the other way around. maybe she was just reading into it too much — this happens often. you know when you go grocery shopping and can’t seem to get away from another customer? maybe that’s all this was. maybe.

later that night she decided to take her friend's boyfriend’s offer up to get out and go to a bar with them, and since she was feeling a little sad that the man from the market never approached her even though she was too bashful to do it herself, she needed a pick me up. third-wheeling with her friend and her boyfriend may just be the motivation she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself.

a couple hours into the night genie was having more fun than she expected. her friend, aimee, was much more considerate than previous ones; she made sure genie felt included in the conversations and even spoiled some inside jokes just so that genie could laugh too.

playing pool, turning down pushy men for dances and drinks, and watching strangers basically have sex in the middle of the bar was more entertaining than she expected. that could just be the alcohol talking though.

she knew the universe was laughing at her, however, when the man from the market walked in with two rubios trailing behind him. genie’s eyes widened a bit, having narrowed from her tipsy state, and as if she couldn’t get more tense at that moment he made eye contact with her. she pretended to be confident about it and gave him a sweet smile while waving. he frowned for a second trying to remember where he’d seen her before.

the pretty girl in the pretty sundress from the market.

he gave genie a half smile and waved back before glancing as his shoes briefly and walking back to his friends.

“go talk to him!” aimee smacked genie’s arm over enthusiastically. “if you don’t i’m dragging him to the table.”

genie laughed knowing she is 100% serious. “i will, just let him settle in for a few minutes. can’t seem like a groupie,” genie bargained.

“who is that?” aimee’s boyfriend, cory asked while eyeing the trio from across the room.

“no idea,” she admitted, “we just kept bumping into each other at the market earlier. i think he was eyeing me, but i didn’t wanna just stare so i don’t know. seems like he recognized me though.”

“well, duh, you’re fucking hot,” aimee exaggeratedly compliments. “especially when you wear those sundresses, your ass looks so big and juicy in those i’m literally jealous.”

“please, you’re literally built like jane fonda, and everyone knows that jane fonda has the perfect ass. i’m jealous of you.”

“can we not talk about how you two basically want to fuck each other when i’m right here?” cory grimaces, but genie could see the smile creeping on his face indicating he was joking.

“awe, if i wanted her i’d have her already,” genie teased.

“she’s right,” aimee confirmed. the two best friends began laughing loudly at cory’s expense when they heard a voice from beside the table.

“perdóname.” [excuse me].

genie turned her head and met eyes with the moreno, grinning widely at his seemingly timid presence. “¿cómo puedo ayudarte?” [how can i help you]

“no tengo mucho tiempo, pero, lo quería darte esto.” he extended a cigarette out to the brunette; she admired how his harsh features softened at the sight of her for a moment, ultimately taking it from his slender fingers with a confidence that she forced yet seemed natural to everyone surrounding. [i don't have much time, but i wanted to give you this]

“gracias. acabas de llegar, ¿no?” [thank you. you just got here, no]

“claro, pero el trabajo llama.” [of course, but work calls]

genie nodded once clearly not believing him as a sly smirk tugged the corners of her lips while she fiddled with the cigarette. she turned it over quickly finding his phone number sloppily written on it. “¿trabajo, sí?” [work, huh]

“what’s he saying?” cory asked; aimee shushes him and genie ignored him, finding herself aiming to maintain the eye contact she held with the handsome stranger.

“¿llámame? salvo que no quieras.” [call me? unless you don’t want to]

“¿cómo debería llamarme?” she was poking at his boundaries which was something she found herself doing often. she loved to laugh and joke, so it was important to her to test those waters. [what should i call you]

he squints, unsure of what exactly she was asking until it dawned on him. “javier. javi.”

“javi,” she tutted after saying his name a way to tease him making him just bashfully smile. “bien. te daré una llamada, javi.” they exchange goodbyes and she turned back to her friends. [good. i’ll give you a call]

“i got javier,” the boy says, “that’s about it.”

“he just wanted me to have his number, that’s all,” genie said.

“are you about to have your first summer fling, genie?!” aimee nearly shouted in attempt to make her blush (which worked every time). “i want every juicy detail when you taint him.”

“you’re lucky i love you.”

-

genie waited a few days to give this javi a phone call. she didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate as she typically enjoyed waiting until men begged for attention.

but when she did decide to call it was like he had been posted by the phone for the last seventy-two hours because he picked up on the second ring.

“¿bueno?” [hello]

“¿javier?” she asked much more softly than she intended. unbeknownst to her the delicacy in her voice made him weak in the knees.

“sí, ¿eres la mujer del bar?” [yeah, are you the woman from the bar]

“mhm, soy yo,” she answered. she grabbed the phone from the console table and brought it around the corner to sit in her chair by her big kitchen window; the weather was perfect for her: sunny with some big clouds here and small clouds there, not too humid or dry. she just watched the leaves dancing between the wind and focused on how peaceful the world seemed from inside her temporary home. [it’s me]

“nunca supe tu nombre,” he replied while inhaling sharply as he took a hit of his cigarette, “¿cómo se llama, dulzura?” [you never told me your name / what’s your name sweetheart]

she couldn’t fight the laugh that surfaced from the base of her throat as the nickname surprised her. “¿dulzura? mmm, no me hagas colgar, javi.” [sweetheart? don’t make me hang up]

“¿qué?” he laughed along with her, “tenía que llamarte algo, ¿no?” [what? i had to call you something]

“¿me llamaste así a tus amigos?” [you called me that to your friends]

“¿no te gusta? okay, okay, veo.” [you don’t like it? i see]

“no, no es que me no guste. es simplemente… sorprendente, eso.” [no, it’s not that i don’t like it. it’s simply surprising, that’s all]

neither of them could swallow their smiles behind their receivers. they talked for hours, and she still managed to keep her name a secret for the time being. he quickly got in the habit of calling her dulzura and it grew on her just as fast. the way spanish flowed off of his tongue made her cave deeper and deeper into her chair, having to “readjust” her legs a few times to resist her urges to tell him how sexy his was.

“javier…”

his throat was straining from all the talking and laughing they were doing but he ignored it by inhaling cigarette after cigarette. “¿sí, mama?” he cooed quietly.

the way the new little nickname from his lips gave her goose skin and a flushed face, and she was thankful he wasn’t in front of her in that moment because she just might have giving up on her wait and see rule.

“tengo que ir, tengo que ayudar a mi amiga mañana. pero… fue encantador hablar contigo.” [i have to go, i have to help my friend in tomorrow. but it was lovely talking with you]

“yo veo. voy a despertarme temprano mañana también. una cosas más.” [i see. i gotta get up early tomorrow as well. one more thing]

she giggled, somehow already knowing what he was going to ask about. “me llama genie.” [my name is genie]

“genie… ya has hecho realidad mi deseo, dulzura,” he flirted. [you’ve already made my wish come true, sweetheart]

“obtienes dos más, cariño,” she teased. it wasn’t the first time someone used her name as punchline in attempt to flirt with her, and it sounded just as corny coming from javi. the only difference was that she liked it coming from him because he wasn’t trying to hide how bad the joke was, whereas most men try to make it sound original as if they’re fucking poetic legends. javi knew he made stupid jokes and didn’t shy away from it. he didn’t try to put on some stupid façade (at least not with her). [you have two more, love]

“¿dos deseos más? debe ser mi día de suerte.” [two more wishes? it must be my lucky day]

genie gave him a sweet giggle, whispering, “hasta luego, javi.” [later]

“buenas noches, genie.” [good night]

-

it was like night and day, her first impression of javier was that he was just some man trying to find his way in life, in colombia. she got a real glimpse of him tonight: they got to the bar about an hour ago, and to the other men nearby it was like javier wasn’t even there. they’d stroll up to the table and flirt, hard.

she was trying to be polite and avoid a scene by saying thank you, but i’m not interested or i’m here on a date with this gentleman, but there are other pretty girls around who i’m sure are single.

after the fourth guy, though, javi became noticeably irritable, and well… lost his temper at the fifth guy. genie told herself that they were lucky to not get kicked out after javi’s already bruised fist knocked the other man flat on his skinny ass, but it shook her a bit. a man so sweet and so kind to her yet so violent with others. as fucked up as it was she found it a bit of a turn on, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe one day he’d lose his temper with her.

all her worries swam away when he sat back down and apologized, a look of pure embarrassment pooling his eyes.

“sorry, i don’t know what took over me,” he whispered, “if you want to go home that’s perfectly fine—“

“javi,” she cooed, “you’re fine.” and she meant it. she not only saw his resentfulness, she felt it radiating off of him. she didn’t want the night to be spoiled by some fuckers who lacked respect. “honestly if every girl was coming up here asking you for a buck and a blowjob i’d probably punch one of them too. no, i would do it.”

“you’re not mad?”

she scrunched her face up and grabbed her drink, raising it to her lips and sipping before she said, “fuck no. well, not at you. it’s not like this is our first real date, anyways. the real one will come soon, i hope.” she gave him a tight smile that showed off parts of her teeth showing javi that she was hopeful and willing to try again. “ugh, i hate saying that.”

“what?” he took a swig of his whiskey.

“‘it’s not our real first date.’ god, that just sounds like i’m crapping on this.”

“no it doesn’t. that’s what we said this was, right? not a first date? just two new friends hanging out?”

she snickered at him. “uh-huh, do two friends just hanging out get jealous and possessive over each other?”

he rolled his eyes wonderingly and bit back a smile. “you know what i mean.”

“sureee i do… then you won’t mind if i go out there and dance, hmm?” she pointed behind herself with her thumb. she wanted to toy with him a little to see what kind of man he was so that she knew how to navigate him.

she only received a squinting glare in response as he asked her to elaborate with his eyes, so she ever so slightly rose up from her chair to lean over the table. his face relaxed at her close proximity, maintaining eye contact with the vixen before him.

“for other guys? since we’re just friends right now, that won’t bug you, right?” she gave him no time to respond as she gave him a kiss so endearing that it swept his mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include her. she almost moaned at the lingering taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his lips, craving him even more now. the kiss felt like an escape from all of her troubles. she only needed this moment of control and then he could have the rest of her — something she’d never give to anyone else. the kiss was over before it even began, and he found himself simpering for her. “can i go dance for other guys, javier?”

he could only nod like a coward.

javi watched how her thighs glowed underneath the yellow lights as she danced shamelessly in the bar they first met in. he couldn’t take his eyes off of her in the white sundress with her blow dried hair flowing around her shoulders and cheekbones. she wasn’t drunk, no, not even tipsy so he knew that she was just a free spirit with the way she was acting, she spoke her mind and let her body express itself uncaring of the other people in the bar that stared.

he liked the fact that other men were staring at her because even though she was dancing where everyone could watch, she was only dancing for javi to see. he also enjoyed it when a man would approach her and she would just dance her body away from them as it confirmed her growing loyalty to him.

sure she’d forgiven his lack of self control earlier, but now he knows that he doesn’t need to act out to get her attention because he already has it. he didn’t quite understand what was so intriguing about genie, but he wanted to explore her depths (and not just in a sexual way).

he stood up to strut over to her after drinking the rest of his whiskey; he clasped his arms around her waist from behind and took in a deep breathe of her sweet perfume which contrasted the woodsy perfume he noticed her wearing when he gave her his number. he planted a needy but light kiss on the curve where her neck met her shoulder, pressing his hips into her butt firmly before swaying and bouncing with her to the upbeat song.

“people are staring at you, dulzura,” he whispered huskily onto her ear lobe. “these men think you’re single. can’t have that.”

she couldn’t help the cocky grin that spread across her face. “i saw the way you were looking around the room, smiling like you own the place…” she turned around in his tight grasp staring into his territorial eyes with an innocent, but knowing look. “like you own me.”

“i don’t own you, darlin’,” he says monotonously, not even the slightest hint of humor behind his tone, “but i do control you. at least for the night.”

“you can be the boss, daddy.”

she watched the surprise waiver his once stern expression and rather than playing her usual confident self she couldn’t ignore what he said.

i do control you.

she wanted to let him take the reigns on this one and see what javier peña was all about. after all, wait and see was far out of the window at this point.

she just pouts with her eyes and brows and folds her lips between her teeth like she had no idea the effect she had on him. she felt his warm hand slide down to the small of her back, gripping into the clothed skin desperately while he hissed at her facial expression and her dumb eyelashes batting up at him.

she filled him with what felt like so much destitution it was beginning to irritate him. the wanting to take it slow. the giggles and smiles. the dresses—god, he just craved fucking her in that little white sundress. how so much woman fit into one person was beyond him, but he looked at her like she was god created just for him.

yeah… waiting wasn’t happening.

the two of them ran out to his car like a pair of schoolchildren, and javi almost hit other cars or pedestrians at least twice on the way back to his apartment. she just laughed and told him to slow down, the few shots of dark liquor she had getting to her carefulness a bit.

next thing they knew they were naked on the couch, just kissing. that’s all they needed to do. just feel each other’s impure warmth. their lips were far beyond numb but they still went at it. she clung to him like wet on water, and he held her close with his sturdy forearms atop his lap while she rocked her hips occasionally. she poured every moan into his salivating mouth and he swallowed them with pride.

they were in no rush to have sex, they just wanted to need each other for a little bit. their craving for each other exceeded physical intimacy and stretched into every curve of their being as they wept onto each other. she giggled every time she felt more of her juiced pool onto his erection that was nestled between her legs and curved up to her ass. he loved her moans and her giggles and her smiles so much that he found himself smiling with her more than he had with his recent partners.

“javi?” she asked softly after finally pulling away from their hour-long kiss. he hummed and looked at her through his low eyelashes, seemingly drunk off of her kisses. “¿crees que podemos esperar un poco más?” [do you think we can wait a little longer]

he frowned, feeling a tad offended that she seemed a little scared to ask him that. “sí, dulzura. no tienes que preguntar.” he pinched her chin lightly and dragged his fingers around her soft face. [you don’t have to ask]

“no quería asumir.” [i don’t want to assume]

he offered her a loving smile and brought one of her hands up to his lips. “yo puedo esperar, mama.” [i can wait]

she blushed at the compassionate stare he was giving her and rewarded him with a tender kiss on his lips and another one to his forehead. “¿tienes agua?” [do you have water]

“mm-hmm. solo agua de la llave.” [only tap]

she carefully stood up from his thighs and stepped from between his legs to the kitchen. “no soy exigente.” she took it upon herself to grab a couple of glasses from his cabinet and them up up halfway with lukewarm water before she peered her head to her right to find a ring sitting in a small bowl nearby. “javier?” she called, unable to take her eyes off of the jewelry. he hummed and she heard as he stood up from the couch and walked towards her. “are you married?” she asked, finally breaking her stare from the ring and looked at him. [i’m not picky]

he eyebrows knitted together and he gave her a dumbfounded look. “no, why?”

“who’s ring is that then?”

he followed her pointed thumb with his eyes and saw how the ring was perched on top of the junk bowl like a trophy. “shit,” he whispered, glancing at his floor bashfully. “uh, no, genie i am not married. i was engaged, but, i left her… the day of the wedding.”

she couldn’t tell why, but she grew worried. “why?”

shrugging, he couldn’t come up with an answer. “i’m still trying to figure that out myself… i guess i kept the ring hoping it’d give me answer,” he laughed incredulously at his confession. “that was definitely not how i wanted you to find out.”

she nodded and a sense of relief came to calm her down. “i run all the time too,” she replied, waiting a moment before holding out the glass for him to take. he found solace in her words even though he didn’t fully understand it yet. he took a lame sip of his water and set it down on the counter before closing the gap between their still feverish bodies. “we don’t need to talk about it.” her tone was so serious but her smile was playful. “we can just make out for another hour or something.”

they laughed at her suggestion, but just as javi was leaning into kiss her as an acceptance his phone rang. he rolled his eyes and groaned before walking over to answer it. genie didn’t want to eavesdrop so she just strolled over to steal a cigarette from him and walked to his bedroom to blow her smoke out of his screen-less window whilst she looked over the other apartments and the streets. she heard a few gunshots far away and poked her nosy head out to see if she saw something, and when she didn’t she just kept looking around quickly forgetting about it.

it is colombia after all.

she was almost done with her cigarette when javi made an appearance next to her also holding a cigarette.

“everything okay?” she asked, glancing up at him. he nodded and grinned down at her nipples perking up from the cool breeze. “take a picture, perv,” she teased once she realized he was staring, then kicked his calf gently.

“maybe i will, smartass.”

she shook her head and laughed indulgently as he pointed his polaroid up to her naked body that was being illuminated by the orange street lights. he laid the photo on his dresser before hugging her from behind like earlier, and he swayed their nude bodies to music that was heard playing from another house in the distance. she hummed and tossed her cigarette outside before stealing his right off of his pouted lips; he took the liberty of his mouth as opportunity to kiss her shoulders.

she wanted him so badly, but she knew it was just her wound of impatience waiting to be peeled open again. she wasn’t afraid of giving in to him. she was afraid of giving in to herself. javier didn’t make it easy at all, and he saw it, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“mi dulzura…” he breathed onto her hot flesh, trailing his lower lip up to her ear and smacking a kiss on it while his hand found the base of her stomach. she felt herself clench around nothing and moved his hand down to her clit before she could stop herself. he wanted nothing more than to make her feel good and she just gave him permission for that in some aspect. “tu coño todavía está tan mojada… tengo suerte, ¿no?” he rubbed tiny little circles around her clit the same way she would when she’d touch herself. [your pussy is still so wet. i’m lucky, huh]

“alguien podría vernos.” she worried like she wasn’t the one to initiate it. [someone could see us]

he waited a moment to respond. “que nos vean.” [so let them see]

she gave in and let him please her for the whole world to see. the pads of his fingers felt like heaven on her heat as she let go of the fear of getting caught; she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and closed her heavy eyes.

javier wanted to felt her tremble in his arms and hear her call his name. he needed to give her a reason to come back and he knew he could do that with his fingers alone. just like he said: he could wait. and he would wait for her. she was gentle and kind but fearless at the same time. he thought it was sexy the way she never cared what anyone thought of her (anyone she wasn’t familiar with anyways).

“¿te gusta?” [you like that]

she simply nodded rapidly as her chest heaved, her mind straying from reality as she sank deeper into the trap he laid with his fingers. her eyes flew open, however when she heard a group of people walking nearby. “javi,” she panicked, “deberíamos mover—“ [we should move—]

“shut up,” he whispered in her ear through gritted teeth while simultaneously wrapping his free hand around her elongated neck, “tengo esto.” [i got this]

genie moaned louder than she realized and allowed herself to no longer care after javi made his demands. if the people wanted a show then they were going to get it. “claro, después de todo… eres el jefe, papi.” [sure, after all, you’re the boss daddy]

-

weeks of harmony went by, and even the bad moments weren’t so bad. sometimes javier would meet genie after a shit day at work and wouldn’t be in the mood for company, but he didn’t want to push her away because of it. he still wanted her near and she saw that despite feeling like sometimes she had to walk on eggshells around him on his moody nights. she didn’t mind it too much, it was more of her still trying to learn how to read him which came with some difficulty.

he knew that when they went almost a week without seeing other and constantly missing each other’s phone calls that he was falling hard from how much he missed hearing her voice. genie filled her free time with her friends and gardening but her mind always trailed back to javi.

they’re schedules finally aligned on a tuesday; javi got the day off and wanted genie to meet his partner steve so she took it upon herself to have them over for dinner along with aimee.

“hi, i’m genie,” she introduced excitedly as she shook the man’s hand before inviting them in.

“hey, i’m steve. sorry my wife couldn’t be here tonight,” he said.

genie just waved him off. “oh, don’t worry about it. i’ll make some extra for her if that’s alright?”

“sure, thank you.”

“my friend aimee is here in the other room, feel free to make yourself at home. dinner should be ready in about an hour.” he excused himself and genie turned to javi and immediately gave him a sultry kiss. “mm, i missed you.”

he chuckled and wiped the corner of his mouth before giving her a hug. “i missed you too. how ya doing?”

“better now,” she whispered. “come help me in the kitchen?”

“not sure i can be much help.” he watched her hips bounce back and forth as she led him to her kitchen. “you have a nice home,” he commented; he walked behind her and enveloped her body into a warm hug as she stirred the sauce in her pot.

“thank you.” he gave her neck a few kisses, placed his fingers on her chin to turn her head toward him, and pecked her lips a few times. she blushed and focused on her cooking again, but javi wanted to play with her again as it had been too long since the last time he’d heard her delicious moans. “javier,” she hissed and he just slid his large hands into her tight jeans. “javi,” she laughed, “we are not having a repeat of last time.”

“you’re right, this time we’re not doing it in a window, we’re in your kitchen,” he teased after his fingers found her wetness and dove into it.

she exhaled softly and felt her nipples harden against the fabric of her shirt. “i don’t wanna mess up dinner.”

“focus on dinner then, baby, don’t think about me,” his voiced strained. she nearly laughed again but couldn’t because a moan nearly surfaced. she brought a bowl of diced onions over the pot and let them fall in as an attempt to distract herself. “i’m sure dinner will be lovely, dulzura.” his breath hitched up against her ear when he felt her clench around his fingers. “what are you making?”

“lasagna.”

“it smells good.”

“thank you—oh.” she accidentally smacked the spoon on the counter and sauce flew specks around the wall and stove. “shit!” she reached for a towel and immediately bent forward to wipe the mess up, but she only applied more pressure between her sex and his digits. he took the liberty to ram his fingers as fast as the angle would allow which had her struggling to stand straight, but she continued cleaning her mess up—well, her javi-induced mess. once she was done she put the lid on the pot and told him that she was close.

“already? seems like you needed this more than me. is that right?”

“yes,” she huffed, gripping the ledges of the countertop. “right there.”

“you’re doing so good keeping quiet.”

“me corro, me corro!” she breathed out. she swallowed every other noise that tried to leave her fragile body while her orgasm took over. it was strong and overpowering almost, unlike most of her orgasms that were slow and drawn out. she felt every bit of her climax in the span of just a few seconds but it was well worth it. [i’m cumming]

javi eased up on her fairly quickly and freed his hand, careful to not get any of her cum on her clothes. she tried to steady her body while she resumed dinner and he washed his hands before helping her trembling hands with the heavy pot. they didn’t say anything but they could not stop giggling.

“are you guys stoned or something?” aimee asked spooking the couple.

“we’re literally dea agents,” steve retorted as he stood next to her.

“eh,” genie edged receiving a warning look from javi. “are you?”

“genie,” javi hissed.

“don’t worry, i won’t tell steve about the time you and i got high before watching star wars.”

“really peña?” steve questioned accusingly.

javi gave genie’s ass a light smack, but he knew steve would ultimately forget about it so he just went back to watching genie cook.

the night went by slow which made genie happy. she got to bond with steve and aimee got to bond with javi. it was like the formation of a new, happier, stronger family for genie and she hoped everyone else felt the same way. aimee and steve teased the other two about how smitten they were being all night and how cute it was to see the love they have for each other growing. they all got a little tipsy from whiskey and wine which caused the formation of a brother-sister relationship with steve and aimee — one that javi and genie found adorable, especially with the way they bullied each other for their music tastes and political views in a chaste way.

when the night was closing in steve and aimee made their exits to their significant others and homes, and aimee naturally made the comment, “don’t be too loud now,” more than once.

as soon as they were alone, genie and javi made their debut to her room for pillow talk and cuddles having gotten their release of sexual tension out earlier.

“do you think they heard me?” genie worriedly asked.

“i think we’d know if aimee heard us,” javi quip, snickering as he did so.

“good point.”

genie admired all of his facial features which made him smile keenly. he was handsome, smart, romantic, and caring, but he was also daunting and reserved for everyone but her. she wouldn’t dare resist love from someone so sweet after she experienced a life in the absence of love. javier gave her all the smiles she needed for one lifetime already, but his desire to keep that smile on her face earned him a special place in her fragmented heart because he was making it whole again.

“do you want to keep seeing me? i’m just checking in, making sure we’re all good.” javi’s insecure tone put a frown on her face.

“i do. i like you.”

he blushed and crawled on top of her. “yeah? you like me?”

“yeah i like you a lot, papito. te quiero mucho, papito.”

he closed the space between their lips and he snaked his arms around her back. he felt closer than before to the woman below him because she forgave his sins faster than he did himself. he didn’t know what he did to get this lucky, but he refused to question one of the only good things in his life.

“te quiero, genie,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose along hers.

“me encanta la forma en que dices mi nombre… y la forma en que me besas… la forma en que me tocas. me gustas mucho, javi, no sé lo que haría sin ti.” [i love the way you say my name… and the way you kiss me… the way you touch me. i like you a lot, javi, i don’t know what i’d do without you]

-

days later javier ended up getting sent home for playing with the enemy, and it left genie in a state of uncertainty. part of her blamed him for the new distance placed between them but she also knew she didn’t understand everything nor did she want to. in this case ignorance was bliss for her.

they set time aside every couple of weeks to keep up with each other for phone calls and she even began considering moving back to the states to be with him, but her loyalty to beth always pushed those thoughts aside. he worried about genie often because her mental health seemed to decline with how much more she was taking care of the sick woman. he’d never ask her to stop knowing he’d do the same for his own family, but once he got put on the case for the cali cartel he knew him being there would put her in good spirits. at least he hoped so.

it had been nearly a year since they’d last seen each other and he wanted it to be a surprise. from what steve had told him she never really moved on despite javi telling her it was okay and that staying friends was best for them for the time being. it angered her how easy he seemed to want to give up, but this wasn’t a fairytale and she knew that it may have very well been years until she was able to see him again so she understood.

genie became more reclusive, only ever seeing her few friends in the foreign state. she and aimee lacked the mental drive to go out and party like they did in the earlier stages of their arrival so beth, steve, connie, and cory were the only other people they spent time with.

javi knocked on her door and as he stood there waiting for an answer he drummed his fingers over his clad thighs. would she look different? would someone else answer the door? would she not want to see him right now? all these thoughts that ran through his head a million miles per hour vanished when he saw that pretty sundress appear before him.

“javier?” she asked softly as if he were unrecognizable.

“it’s me,“ he whispered hoarsely. her beauty sucked all of the air out of him and his body turned to mush when she collided into his broad frame. “it’s me.” he clung to her and breathed her in like she was a wasting memory.

“¡te extrañé, javi! te extrañé mucho.” [i missed you]

“también te extrañé, dulzura,” he whispered into her hair. “i came to surprise you.” [i missed you too]

“come in,” she urged. she ran upstairs to her bedroom and practically dragged him with her. “i need you,” she told him breathlessly. “can i have you?” he simply pressed his soft lips to hers as permission; they ripped their clothes off of each other and she laid him on her bed. just then everything fell back into place.

all of the midday to midnight conversations they had developed meaning. there was no doubt in her mind that her waiting wasn’t pointless or a waste of time. it meant something to the both of them and they wanted to permeate it.

she reached between their bodies and gave his already hard cock a few slow strokes to build up the anticipation. “are you mine?” she asked, a hint of possession in her eyes.

he felt like his soul mended to the shape of hers, her spirit captivating every corner of his mind. he nodded helplessly. “yes,” he moaned with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“were you loyal to me?” she teased her entrance with his tip, sliding it in slowly.

“yes, i was l—loyal to you.” he couldn’t stop gasping; just the feeling of her slick walls around the first inch of him had him on edge. “i promise.” just then she sunk onto him without further question and felt her wetness pool around him as he stretched her out. they let out sweet moans for each other and began kissing as she bounced on him. “fuck, ya vas a hacer que me corra.” [you’re going to make me cum (already)]

she giggled, lifted herself up, then put her hands on his stomach for better balance. “dame tu leche, papi.” [give me your cum]

he threw his head back while cursing loudly, giving her plump ass a tight squeeze and refusing to let go. “necesito que me des tu leche lindo primero.” [i need you to give me your pretty cum first]

genie groaned and pinched her nipple lightly, feeling the sensitivity spiral down to her pussy. “ven aquí.” he sat up and ran his warm hands over the goosebumps on her back. “lamer mis pezones.” [come here / lick my nipples]

“yeah?” he licked a teasing strip up one of her nipples, giving her puppy dog eyes. “¿quieres que te me lama los pezones?” she hummed at his question and fluttered her eyes shut when he began sucking one and used his thumb to rub circles on the other one, his mustache grazing her skin adding to the pleasure. she continued her rhythm on top of him while he kept her steady. he felt his eyes light up at the sight of her. sweaty, eager, desperate. he knew that he never wanted to feel anyone else do this for him, and no one could make him feel nearly as good. he had to let his mind wander from time to time because of how close he was getting to cumming inside of her. he didn’t want this to end so soon. he wanted this to be the memory she touched herself to whenever he couldn’t be around. he needed the feeling of his thick cock stretching and pleasing her slick cunt to be engraved so deeply into her mind that the thought of it alone would make her cum on her own fingers. “eres tan jodidamente perfecta, mama. so fucking perfect.” [you want me to lick your nipples / you’re so fucking perfect]

she loved the way he cowered his face into her chest as a way to feel more of her and the way he kissed up her sternum until his lips met hers. he cradled her in his arms so that he could switch their positions wanting to see how good he could make her feel. he freed her face of loose hair strands and gave her tiny kisses while he started slowly inside of her, not fully inserting himself in while doing so. genie loved everything about this moment.

javi with messy hair.

how sheen and warm their bodies were from sex and not the humidity.

the cool breeze that often snuck in through the open windows.

javi worshiping her body.

how pretty her body looked under the sun.

how careful and attentive he was with her.

their heavy breathing

and moans

and pants

and whimpers.

javi knew he couldn’t hold back much longer so he pulled out to bury his face between her thighs. she let out an ungodly sound as he opened his mouth as wide as possible and sucked up everything. she clawed at his scalp with her back arching off the bed not able to form any words at the sudden sensation.

he slurped as he closed his mouth and flattened his tongue on her throbbing clit, roughly shaking his head side to side tickling the skin around her clit with his facial hair (and it drove her insane). she tried to squeeze her shaky thighs around his head but his sturdy arms wouldn’t allow that. she cried out his name and let the vibrant and warm and forceful feeling take over he flailing body. her body shook so hard the bed creaked with the headboard smacking the wall a few times. she had no time to recover when he filled her up with his throbbing length and continued her orgasm by rubbing his fingers around her wet clit.

“hazte correrme otra vez,” she pleaded. he rammed into her and held her legs up while she perched on her elbows. [make me cum again]

“¿quieres otra más? hmm,” he grunted. [you want to cum again]

“yes, fuck—fuck. you’re gonna make me cum again!” he rested on top of her, laying her flat down again. he fondled her breast briefly but moved his hand up to her cheek to caress it. “can you cum with me?” she asked; his eyelids battered down and he nodded. she felt his body jerk and she grinned at his flushed face. “¿tú estás corriendo?” [are you cumming]

“mm. mm-hmm,” he moaned, “solamente para ti.” she felt her mouth go dry and his thrusts lose a steady rhythm. his hips dug into her thighs and his cock pulsed when her pussy began convulsing against him. [just for you]

she pouted up at him when he pressed their foreheads together and felt dizzy until that one second of pure stillness carried her body up and back down to reality again. she forced her heavy eyelids open to see him in her most vulnerable state of mind as a way to let him know he had her always and forever. she held onto him tightly, letting out whimpers of overstimulation that turned into exaggerated moans when she couldn’t hold onto the feeling anymore. he got there not too long after, but instead his focus sharpened on her rather than hazed; he thrusted sloppily into her exhausted body and gave her body every last drop of cum he had saved up for her.

their breathing synchronized as they just laid together; he made sure she felt loved when he pressed a few plump kisses over her face, feeling his heart punch against his ribs every time she cooed at his lips on her damp skin.

he carried her to the bathroom so that they could shower together and they didn’t even realize neither of them said anything for the next half hour until they climbed back in bed.

“doing alright?” he asked her as he lit her cigarette up.

she smiled with her eyes and nodded, pressing her back to her headboard. “you?”

“yeah… honestly thought i was gonna have to put up more of a fight to get in bed with you,” he teased. she nudged his foot with hers and laughed. “i came back for you,” he said once the mood shifted.

“i thought about leaving beth and going to you.”

“i know. steve told me,” he admitted. “i wouldn’t want you to do that. sounds like she needs you and aimee more than ever right now.”

“yeah.”

“hey.” he held her chin then gave her a kiss. “i’m here now.” he wiped a tear that fell onto her cheek and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “i’m here now.”

-

“you’re being so fucking loud right now, shut up,” genie scolded. she covered his mouth with her left hand and choked him with the other. he shook his head in protest but gave up when she resumed riding him in the office chair. he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled even harder as he shot his release inside of her. she finished him off and they had a brief make out session before he tapped her hip.

“how much time we got?” he asked before pulling his pants up and fixing his shirt.

“uh… ten minutes."

“i bet i can make you cum in five,” he challenged.

her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to his chest. “that is a dangerous game you’re trying to play.”

“come on, can’t you make me feel like the boss here for a few minutes?”

his smile won her over and he received the biggest ego boost when she lifted the skirt to her dress. “five minutes.”

he got down on his knees and smirked at her paranoid expression. “an orgasm per minute?”

“shut up.” she pushed his face into her slippery heat, mewling at the curl of his wide fingers and flick of his thirsty tongue. “move to the left… right there.” she held his face in position and watched his tongue work miracles along her clit. the squelching of her discharge mixed with his semen around his fingers was louder than she expected, and she worried about people walking by hearing them.

javi knew how to work the divots and curves of her more than she wanted to give him credit for, and knowing how crunched they were on time he focused on the spongy hill that’d get her to her climax fast especially when combined with tongue despite how badly wanted to taste for hours.

she didn’t warn him or let out any noise other than a few deep breaths, but he could tell by the way her hips jerked on his face and the locking of her knees that she was already cumming. seconds later he felt all he had given her pool around the base of his knuckles. after removing his fingers he licked her and his fingers clean before helping fix her dress.

“come on, we’ll make out in the parking lot,” he whispered to her with that everlasting smirk that she pretended to hate.

“i am never doing that again, that was too close,” she told him once they made it to her car.

“you loved it,” he said confidently. “come ‘er.” his face carried the scent of her and it made her feel good knowing that he’d have to walk around like that for the rest of the day. they kiss until another officer makes fun of javi for becoming a one-woman man to which he just waved off. “ignore them,” he chuckled dryly. “admit that you loved it.“

genie rolled her eyes and a smile crept on her face. “you’re wrong,” she said tugging at his shirt and pulling him in, “but you’re so much fun.”

they kissed once more before saying their goodbye’s and parting ways. when javier made it back to his desk steve could tell he seemed much happier than he was an hour ago.

“fuck are you grinning for?” steve interrogated. the brunette gave him a noticeably fake look of surprise. “what? did you have genie come up here and give you a blowie?” steve huffed and leaned forward when javi’s face went pale. “dude! i was joking!” he whispered harshly.

“do not tell anyone else.”

steve muttered something under his breath but then looked back at his partner through his eyebrows. “where’d you do it?”

he smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “go big or go home, right?”

“oh-ho-ho!” steve laughed proudly. “you dirty son of a bitch.”

-

“how you holding up?”

genie gave him an endearing look and said, “i’m alright. i miss her a lot already, i’m just glad i got to be with her in her final moments.” he nodded slowly at her answer, watching her pick the strawberries from her garden as they sat together in the grass. “how are you doing? you know with work?”

“i’m managing.”

she rolled her eyes from him back to the garden. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“i’m managing,” she mocked in a peculiar tone. “you can talk about it.”

“i don’t want you to feel like i’m ignoring your feelings, though.”

she glared at him and adjusted her posture. “i’m sad, not broken. plus, i asked because i care about you. we’re not just flirting anymore, javi. i thought this was becoming something.”

“this is something.”

“okay so fucking talk to me. don’t tiptoe around me and give me two word responses because i lost beth a couple weeks ago. you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but you’re not just managing. i wanna know what goes through your head.”

javi sighed and rubbed her back as she got back to work. “you’re right.”

“i know.”

he rolled his eyes but still gave the back of her head a kiss. “i’m thinking of retiring after cali’s done.”

“oh yeah? why’s that?”

she already knew why. the late nights, the constant losses, everyone dying… she saw how he clung to her metaphorically because she was the only stability he got to have every week but he tried hard to not become dependent on her. she appreciated his consideration, but it led to him being unable to vocalize his emotions which made her feel like there was an unnecessary barrier between them.

“can’t do it anymore. i want you to come back to texas with me when it’s done… if that’s something you want.”

she snorted and gave him a raised eyebrow. “you haven’t even told me you love me yet and you want me to move with you?” she was joking, but he noticed how her eyes bored into his as if she was waiting for him to say it.

he thought it over every time he was away from her — was genie just an impulse for him? just another woman? and every time he questioned it his heart screamed no. she could be bratty, lord knows, but she wasn’t complicated. she was sweet and so full of life that she gave some to him and it made him feel warm inside again. she loved all things and all people, she never judged yet she always stood her ground. she could be needy at times when he wasn’t in the mood for attentiveness but she always waited. he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer.

“i do love you,” he responded nonchalantly, a frown reaching his brows.

she sat her basket down and turned to face him. “you’re just saying that.”

“no i’m not.” her smile faded momentarily, but came back even bigger; he held her face gently and kissed her blushing nose. “genie, mi amor, te amo tanto te esperaría por siempre. i loved you before i even knew who you were.”

“oh,” she pouted, “you break my heart.” she kissed him and sat on top of his lap whilst reaching for his belt buckle to undo it.

"mm, lemme take you inside," he mumbled against her shiny lips.

"right here," she begged quietly; she pulled her sundress over her head which made javi's eyes touch the back of his skull when he noticed she had no panties on. she didn't bother ridding him of his tight jeans. she just pulled out his velvety cock and teased it along her opening, waiting until he was fully hard to sink onto him. she rested her weight on top of him after he opened the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pressing her lips to his. "tell me again," she demanded. she wasted no time to rock her hips at a quick and eager pace as she lusted after the feeling of his cum painting her wet, rubbery walls.

"i love you." he twitched and moaned weakly beneath her, her movements sending shocks and tickles up his spine. he repeated it more than a dozen times like a broken record and boy was the noise music to her ears.

she whimpered against his neck and her hips chased his orgasm more than hers before she whispered, "i love you," back to him. "i love you, i love you, oh, i lo-love you!" she shouted without a care in the world and watched him through weighted eyes. he held her hips in place and fucked her back, ignoring the strain in his thighs from the fabric restricting his range of motion. "i love you, i love the way you fuck me!"

"you take it so good, dulzura." he pinched her cheeks between his palm and fingers causing him to lose his leverage inside of her, however it didn't stop him. he loved seeing how weak he made her: the way she just molded into him no matter how far he'd bent her or throw her around. he loved how red her face got when he squished it in his brawny hands. "that feel good?"

she nodded shyly in his grip. "yes, everything you do f-feels so fucking good."

"good," he boasted, "you're such a good girl for me, hmm... i love you."

"i'll always be a good girl for you," she told him; he felt his steady pace lose its rhythm and his cock twitched so hard and deep inside of her it felt like his skin had meshed with hers. "i'll always be a good girl for you because you're the boss of me."

fuck. he couldn't stop the arrival of his climax at her sinful confession, his cum pouring out of him seconds later with his head digging into the ground beneath him while he silently cursed at himself for cumming so easily. she liked it though and felt comfortable with leaving it off here. she knew he'd make it up to her later in whatever way she wanted. he asked to stay inside of her for just a little longer so that he could savor the moment and she happily obliged. she helped him escape his nerve-racking high by combing her hands through his hair and a firm kiss.

"my god..." his breathing jagged and his arm trembled around her bare waist. "you're gonna be the death of me one day."

"hmm, that's my job." she put her dress back on to sit next to him lazily pulling his jeans up over his slippery length. "you mean it? wanting me to come back with you to texas?"

he laid his head on her thigh after lighting a cigarette and fiddled with her hand. "course i am. i'll buy us a big farmhouse, and you can raise horses, goats, and shit. whatever you want. i'll make you tea every morning and rub your back when you wake up. we can go for walks and watch the sunset... whatever you want. that’s my second wish.”

"you are gonna be setting feminism back a few years if you keep sweet-talking me," she bantered. they shared a few laughs and smoked in silence for a while before he told her it doesn't have to be that. "mi amor... i'll follow you wherever you go. like i always say… you can be the boss."

"you gotta stop saying that. it makes my dick hard every time."

[marleysfinest]

reiner x reader, post-war smut drabble. cw injury, bleeding

big up wife @pisspope for the inspo for this one u the mvp

there was something about the winter months. something about the way the frost clung to the frozen leaves, how the morning air was so deadly silent, the sounds of nature blanketed and muffled by thick mist clouding the way. the way that life seemed to all but stop, as the insects and birds fell silent as they hid from the chill of the air, hoping to survive until the thaw of spring.

you stand against the frozen pillar of the porch, cloak wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you cradle your piping mug of tea to your chest. the steam that billows out is thick and milky white as it hits the freezing air, but you welcome the way it's warming you until it cools enough to drink. you stare out at the sprawling meadow, coated in frost and leaving just the slightest hint of minty-green of the grass beneath. the sun is rising slowly above the horizon, and soon the frost will melt.

it's been six months since the history-altering march of the titans and, while life is beginning to resume slowly, you can still make out the slightest outlines of footprints across the meadow, the tracks having moulded the earth forever. you come out here in the mornings to breathe in new life, but as much as you welcome living another day, this reminder will always be here to greet you. as you lose yourself yet again in a daydream of the past six months, you almost don't hear the door behind you open. before you can turn to take a look at him, reiner wraps you in his arms and another cloak for good measure.

"morning," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. his arms wrap around your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder, his sudden presence bathing you in heat. you mutter a 'good morning' in return, and rest your head against his.

"I don't like waking up to an empty bed. it's freezing, why don't you come inside?" he asks. you realise that you perhaps should, although that would mean moving from this embrace.

"I'm warm," you reply, "as long as you stay here I'll be just fine."

he huffs a laugh, sending warm air across your collarbone.

"well, I don't have a shirt on, and you are going to catch your death in that nightdress. c'mon."

he loosens his grip and moves to grab a fistful of your nightdress, gently tugging you back inside. despite knowing you should get out of the cold, something about the vista in front of you is begging you to stay and finish your drink, and so you resist his pleas at first.

"let me drink my tea, rei," you insist, knowing your refusal will be driving him mad. he channels so much of himself into making sure you're alright; he'd hate the thought of you being in the cold without him. you already know he's pouting before you turn to look at him. his eyes flicker to the steaming drink, meaning that if not for the risk of scalding you, he'd have scooped you off your feet by now. he looks defeatedly at the tea in your hands and sighs before moving in close to you. you look up to him, wide-eyed, and drink in his appearance. his eyes are still a little hooded, weighed down by sleep, and his golden hair is in disarray after another restless night. despite his dishevelled appearance, he has never looked better. with all the care in the world, he brings himself close to you, and it's then you feel him pressed up against your hip.

"the bed was empty when I woke up," he utters, "you know what kind of torture that is? to roll over and not have you right there?"

you smile, and blow on your drink.

"sorry," you say sweetly, "I guess I just wanted to see what lengths you'd go to to find me."

he sighs again, this time throwing in the gentlest hint of a growl with it, before leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. it's firm and intense, and although the tea is warm and sweet, who are you to deny him?

"leave that out here, it'll cool down soon enough," he whispers, knowing you can't resist him when he asks, "I won't keep you long."

you sigh, trying to appear inconvenienced, but you follow him in a heartbeat. he leads you across the threshold and immediately the air is warmer; the fire hasn’t been going for long, but it’s already enveloped the room like a warm hug. he doesn’t give you long to appreciate the more comfortable temperature; before you have much of a chance to shrug off your shawl, reiner is on you, gently sliding the woollen knit from your shoulders and slipping his hands beneath your nightdress. his hands are delightfully warm, and already you can feel the heat beating from his chest. as he pulls you close to him, waist to waist and chest to chest, he swoops down to plant another kiss on your lips, but this one is far more passionate, far more meaningful. he lets one hand remain on the small of your back while the other repositions itself to the back of your head, holding you firmly against him.

he wastes no time in removing your nightdress completely, and in almost the same swift movement, his pyjama trousers have been recklessly discarded, almost landing in the fireplace. his breath is heavy, almost frantic, matching his movements which are bordering on hasty.

“rei - ” you breathe as he lays you on the couch in front of the fire, hoping that he’d pick up on the suggestion to slow down. while his enthusiasm was most welcome, it wasn’t exactly the norm for him, and you’d rather be assured that he’s alright rather than let him maintain this pace in any discomfort. he positions himself on top of you, firmly between your legs, and for a second you swear you can feel his heart beating against your chest.

“what?” he asks between kisses. he pushes himself hard against your heat, desperate to get right down to it, you can tell.

“slow down,” you whisper with a smile, “you don’t have to hurry.”

“yes, I do,” he replies instantly, hooking your leg over his shoulder, “I need you now.”

there was no need to question it. it was clear in his voice; if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was a man possessed. but there was something about his tone that, while urgent and ragged, showcased his ecstasy and his joy, two emotions decidedly not often attributed to reiner braun, and it’s because of this that you decide not to push the matter any further, and let him do things the way he wanted.

he takes a second to adjust himself before entering you roughly, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips that seems to spur him on. he’s so hard and so worked up that it’s almost concerning, but you’re in no position to care. he ruts into you with fervour and force, hitting that sweet spot again and again, mercilessly with no room for relief. he buries himself into your neck, kissing and sucking away, and in an attempt to both ground yourself and feel him deeper, you dig your nails into his shoulders, not realising the force with which you’re doing it. he lifts his head to look at you, really look at you as your foreheads rest together and you both feel your releases brewing. he grips you by the jaw as you come together, pulsing in ecstasy on the couch and, despite the freezing temperatures outside, feeling your sweat mix with his. he brushes a bead of sweat from your brow as time seems to stand still, this moment of contentment and pleasure on pause for as long as you wanted. until, that is, you see the red claw marks on his shoulders.

“rei!” you exclaim quietly, feeling embarrassed and guilty, “rei, you’re bleeding.”

the spell that he’s under is broken, and he’s craning his head to look for the source of your concern. he sees the claw marks and tiny beads of blood, but isn’t concerned or angry. in fact, there’s something else, something beyond, as he sits up to examine it closer. you start to feel worried that you’ve overstepped a boundary, especially when you see his eyes begin to well up. your eyes widen in horror.

“no, baby, don’t cry!” you squeal, “I’m so sorry!”

it stuns you when he smiles as the tears tumble across his cheek. he taps at the scratches so that his fingertips are tinted red, and swallows heavily.

“I haven’t bled in years,” he says, his voice breaking. despite your disbelief and horror, you realise that he looks happy. he looks euphoric. “I can feel it. I can still see it.”

you feel tears of your own begin to well as you realise the cause of his emotion; finally being able to have something to show for his injuries, something decidedly more human than he was used to. he looks at you with a warm grin.

“do it again.”

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

Nightmares (finnick odair x y/n ) part 1

CONTENTS: angst, violence, (it’s the hunger games so yk) nightmares, fluff, kissing, protective and caring Finnick ☺️ Play this song it works well once the fluff starts

i was in the forest again. Sharow had gone to get water and I was in charge of the food. We were Allies. But little did she know I had an different reason for allying with her. You see, when reaping day arrived I had been reaped my brother was also reaped with me. During the bloodbath sharow ran a knife through his back. She was careless and just went onto his next victim. She didn’t even know he was my brother. Buts it’s time for my revenge I thought as a made soup out of a highly deadly plant. They say a single leaf of this has enough poison to kill a fully grown horse in less than 30 minutes. This much would kill a human instantly. I bring the soup back to her “great I’m starving!” She said but then all of a sudden the dream warped. Where sharow had been was my brother bleeding from the back. I started violently coughing as if I had injected the poison. “ THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE! SHE TRUSTED YOU! YOUR A MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!. he chanted at me. The faces warped and morphed into different tributes.

then I woke up in a sweat screaming. I was in my bed. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t in that awful arena. I was in my home district. District 4. I stumbled through my house crying in my nightgown. No one was there. No I needed my lover, I needed Finnick. I stumbled out my house still shaking and crying. It was the middle of the night. I wandered to the house across the street that was finnick’s. I pounded on his door depretly hoping he would answer the door. He opened the door in his night shirt and pajama pants.

“y/n- wha”

But I stopped him as I collapsed into his arms crying. He held me in his arms and picked me up bridal style into the house. He laid me down on his couch carefully. Then sits next to me. I bury my head in his chest. I cry because he i am racked with guilt. Sharow wasn’t the first or only one I killed but unlike the others that were for survival I had killed her for revenge.

“nightmares?” He guesses. He was the only one who could understand me. He also got nightmares. I nodded my head shakily finally pulling myself together. He holds me in his arms and I feel safe. He gives me a tender sweet kiss and I kiss him back.

“can I stay with you”

He smiles “of course darling” He carries me to his bed where he sets me down gently. With how strong he is you would expect him to not be a gentle person but when he carries me he handles me with care. He climbs in bed with me and I latch onto him.

“It wasn’t your fault “ he says

“but I poisoned her and she trusted me”

“she killed your brother y/n and only one could come out of that a arena…

I stay in his embrace softly kissing his neck. And then I eventually fall asleep. We have both been. They say that the world was built for two. I’m starting to believe that. But we always have to hide our relationship from the capital because of Finnicks forced work. Even though we been through hell and back, lay in his big arm’s his his neck. It felt like heaven on earth to me. I stop kissing a nuzzle into his neck. “ y/n, I love you “

“I love you too Finnick”

We are safe. We’re together. We’re in each other’s arms. And we’re not going back to that arena.

Or so I thought………………

Part 2 coming soon sorry it really short but it’s late and I’m tired I wrote this all in one night. Please like I worked hard

[edgessunflower]

Stitch

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Fem autistic reader

Description: Dom gets a tattoo for you based on your favorite Disney character and nickname he calls you

You walk backstage sharing a hug with your boyfriend's mom before walking in his and his dad's locker room smiling big and sharing a hug with Rey as Dom walks out from changing into his ring gear seeing the sweet moment. "Hey Stitch" you giggle lightly as dom presses a kiss to your forehead following them until you reached the curtain sharing a group hug and a kiss with dom talking to Aalyah before she went out to sit with her mom in the crowd while you walked backstage talking with Edge and hanging out with Liv and Rhea before the two walked backstage victorious in their match against Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode who deserves a justified fight after attacking dom and even harassing you until you hit dolph in the face with a jug and edge quickly jumped in with a spear to roode quietly squealing and cheering when your boys won jogging down the hall as soon as you saw them with big smiles on their faces. You laugh talking with rey and aalyah at rey and angie's house while dom and angie were out having lunch which was a tradition not only between him and both his parents but also with you and the two as well being welcomed with open arms when dom brought you to meet hos family after being together for five months hearing dom talk about you nonstop including that you were autistic but you were still as much of a human as they were which surprised them when they meet you forgetting that fact until you had mentioned it not noticing any signs until they picked up on your habits the first few times you visited them, you smile sweetly seeing dom and angie walk in laughing and smiling seeing him light up pulling you into his arms pressing a kiss to your cheek noticing the plastic wrap under his shirt sleeve raising a brow as the two of you say your goodbyes and head home. After getting home he has you close your eyes while in the bathroom laughing seeing you mindlessly sway while sitting on the bed smiling as he kissed your hand before having you gently trace a warm spot of his body opening your eyes to see a fresh tattoo on dom's chest smiling big when you see that it's stitch from the movie Lilo and Stitch holding a heart with sunflowers on his head, a butterfly on his nose, and your name above him lighting up as you caresses the freshly inked skin squealing lightly giggling making dom grab and kiss you and wrapping you in his arms taking a picture of your reaction and posting it along with a video of you giggling and squealing seeing it and right after it was done on Instagram with the caption "Got this little guy for my sunshine not only because it's her favorite character and movie but also because she is so special to me always holding my heart with tenderness, kindness, care, and unconditional love" leaving everyone in puddles of heartfelt smiles "I love you my stitch" later that week you return the surprise by getting a tattoo on your chest over your heart exactly where dom got stitch but you got his favorite character Zero from Nightmare before Christmas with the heart tucked against him along with a Mexican flag, a headset with music notes in the air, and his name above zero smiling as you watch him open his eyes lighting up like sunshine as he caresses the spot before kissing you sweetly posting the picture with the caption "Got this baby boy for my love to match with stitch he got for me this time with his favorite character and his nickname I call him quite a bit Zomo" you smile laying beside him putting your shoulder under his to look at them next to each other "I love you Zomo".

[arianna-irwynarn]

Part seven.

Sorry for the wait guys, I've been dealing with work and pain from my fractured knee. But here it is and I hope you like it.

Rei

Sfw

“Might need to get shadow heart to fix that though.” Karlach poked lily's cheek. A pain shot through her face. An arrow had brushed her face but managed to split her cheek open, she hadn't noticed due to the adrenaline.

“Oh!” Now she was aware of it, the pain started up. Raising a hand to her cheek she could feel blood running slowly down the side of her face from karlach’s poke.

Thankfully everyone else was unscathed. She quickly pulled out a potion, chugging the contents of the small bottle she felt her skin knitting back together.

“I thought we’d killed all those bastards already?” Karlach mused.

“It's just like goblins to hide when they see they are at a disadvantage.They couldn't run back to the goblin camp.” Wyll commented as he placed a pair of daggers into his haversack.

Lily made her way over to Astarion.

“Oh, hello and what can I do for you?”

“Uh, thank you, for rugby tackling me out of danger back there.”

A charming smile graced his face.

“Well I couldn't let our shy little leader get an arrow through the chest now, could I?”

Lily tried to keep her composure as she looked up into his ruby coloured eyes.

“Also for bringing me back to camp last night.”

“Well someone has to keep an eye on you and the others said I had to. As punishment for not revealing my true nature.”

He said it so flippantly, waving his arms around in a dramatic fashion.

Lily felt anger surging inside.

“Well I'm so sorry for being such a punishment for you. I guess you didn't like that ‘gift’ after all.”

With that lily turned on her heels and stormed off in the direction they were going, tears stung her eyes, another thing that had followed her from her human life. Did they all see her like that? Someone to make a mockery of? If that was the case then why even follow her? She would prove them all wrong.

The shadows were beginning to stretch like tendrils of darkness across the forest path. It was then that she saw something truly beautiful and horrifying. A shadow shaped like a nightmare passed through her, her silver eyes tracked the shadow upwards and her mouth fell open. A dragon, a real life dragon! It was a majestic beast the colour of blood, the wingspan was like that of an aeroplane. Sat atop was a Githyanki, his armour glinting in the late afternoon sun.

It told her that a big fight was on the cards if they continued that way.

The camp was set up quickly and as discreetly as they could make it. Everyone was inside their tents, except for lily who sat next to the camp fire reading a large book.

Monsterous creatures of Fae’run

An A-Z of most documented species.

V is for vampire.

“Darling, if you wanted to know about vampires you could have come to me.”

Lily snapped the book shut and placed it on the bedroll. Astarion looked down at her, a look of mock offence on his face. A laugh escaped lily's lips.

“My, have I offended you? My most humble apologies.”

She stood placing her hands on her hips. Wondering what he wanted.

“Well, actually, I wanted to… apologse for what I said. You aren't a punishment.”

His pale cheeks showed the slightest hint of colour. He was blushing! Apologising clearly wasn't an easy thing for him.

She couldn't help the soft smile that graced her face.

“Thank you.”

She wanted to hug him but something held her back. The memories of Cazador. That monster who turned him then sent him out to seduce people. She needed to respect his personal space.

“Why are you still up? The others went to bed ages ago.”

Astarion pretended to flick something off of his billowy cream shirt.

“Oh, well we were all so busy today and time positively flew by. Next thing I know everyone has gone to bed and I never got the chance to feed.”

His crimson eyes lingered on lily's pale throat as he spoke.

“Astarion, you can’t go hunting. Not here, there’s a red dragon and gods knows how many Githyanki roaming around.”

“Darling I didn't know you cared,”

‘of course I do.”

She lightly grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, careful not to touch him as she gently pulled him down to sit beside her.

Astarion had never really paid any attention to lily's tent before. It was cramped with two candles creating small circles of light. An old bedroll was laid out and the books they had found in the blighted village were in a pile. It bothered him, their leader sleeping in such conditions. She could have taken over any of the group's tents for herself. But she didn't. In fact she never complained once.

Lily weighed up her options silently. Astarion broke the silence

“You never complain do you, you're in this crappy tent with the rattiest bedroll I've ever seen and yet you could make it much better. I couldn't dream of living in such…” His voice trailed off, memories of that palace of pain and suffering, of Cazador beating him mercilessly. The feel of his blade as he carved into his flesh. The taste of bile reached the back of his throat, he swallowed it back down. He almost jumped when he felt the warmth of lily's touch on his hand.

“I'm going to go with you. If you have to go hunt, I'll be your uh, hunting wingman.”

Lily quickly released Astarions hand not really even meaning to touch him at all.

“You want to do what? Darling you are hardly the stealthiest warlock. I'll stand no chance of hunting anything with you following me.”

Her cheeks flushed but her face held a look of determination and stubbornness that was almost cute.

“This is not up for discussion. I am coming with you and that's final.”

A sly grin appeared as he looked down at her.

“All right but if I should come up empty” he leans down to whisper in her ear “you'll have to pay the price.”

[lightsiided]

sender kisses receiver's stomach.

* varying kisses prompts | accepting

     it's a standard GOOD MORNING kiss, at first, the same as all the others from every day before. the routine has become blissful: forehead, lips, stomach. the scrape of his beard against her skin. the soft light that filters in past the curtains and makes his eyes sparkle.

but today is different in one remarkable regard. half asleep as she is, it takes rey a moment to recognize the flutter under her skin for what it is -- a tiny but fierce KICK. her hand cups thor's cheek as she stretches out in the sheets.

"hang on," rey murmurs, guiding his face gently back over an inch to the left. "do that again, right... there."

the second kick is harder -- firm enough to make her gasp a little. she laughs, pulling her hand back to rest it on the side of her stomach, noticeably round. a smile that's wide with delight splits her face as she reaches out through the force, SEARCHING...

there is the slightest pulse. a small wave -- warmth. light. their daughter, rey realizes. HAPPY to hear from them. "oh," she marvels quietly, eyes wide and staring down at her stomach, "she... knows it's you. and not just me."

it becomes clearer once the words are said aloud, the realization crystalizing in her mind. the baby kicks again in the spot where thor's lips had been, as if already asking for her father. rey reaches for his hand to hold it beneath hers. with her shirt pushed up, they're skin-to-skin-to-skin in bed, rey's fingers resting between his. together, it's easier to channel the energy to find what she's looking for, and her face lights up when she locates it: the distinct shape of their daughter's force signature, OPEN and reaching back out to rey.

another laugh of surprised delight leaves her. "wow," she hums, "she feels... so much like you." thor's presence in the force is practically memorized, now, after so much time together. it hardly matters where he is in the universe; she knows him like she knows her own mind.

and there are PIECES of rey there, that she can pick out clearly, but for the most part, their daughter mirrors her husband so perfectly she can easily imagine a blonde-haired, blue-eyed toddler with a big heart and electric fingertips as a third kick lands solidly against her ribs.

rey blinks away a sudden swell of emotion, moving to sit up in their bed. gratefulness washes her over, but she doesn't have the words to verbalize any of the million WONDERFUL things she's feeling.

tugging thor back up to the pillows at the top of the bed, she winds her arms around him to let her kiss carry the conversation for her, knowing he'll understand without her having to say a word. he always does.

@othunderous

[lizzygrantarchives]

The Fader, June 4, 2014

Read a candid interview with one of the era’s most controversial stars, on fame, feminism and her new album, Ultraviolence.

The camera zooms in on Lana Del Rey as she turns away from the crowd, hiding all but the slightest silhouette of her face. In the background, a massive screen flickers deep purple and blue; beside her on stage sits a potted palm. For one full minute: riotous, embracing applause. Gently, she wipes a tear with the middle finger of her left hand, then wipes her nose, which from this angle appears as the bottom-half of a perfectly slender S curve that begins on her forehead, shimmies down her face and ramps off into the void. Finally, she turns to address the audience, smiles and says, “I think you’re going to have to sing it for me.” The piano starts, and everyone complies, very loudly and very clearly. She tries to sing too, of course, then pauses to cry and smile at the same time, seemingly overwhelmed by the audience’s affection. But no one else stops singing: It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you…

Lana Del Rey, the singer whose entire self so often seems a carefully constructed display, didn’t conceive of this scene, like she has the many music videos that helped propel her to fame. First came the eerily star-foreshadowing montages of 2008, in which she stitched together found footage and vamped in front of an American flag under her given name, Lizzy Grant. Back then, sometimes she’d make four videos for the same song, but most times, nobody much saw them. Next came “Video Games,” which applied that same cut-up look to a slightly fuller sound, and thrust Grant, now singing as Lana Del Rey, from bedroom clips to blockbusters. Then the big budgets arrived: she sat on a throne backed by two tigers in the video for “Born to Die,” embodied both Jackie O and Marilyn in a span of minutes for “National Anthem” and, for "Tropico" lounged with Elvis and John Wayne in CGI heaven. Lana Del Rey’s filmography is a master class on how to build an icon, and yet, no footage feels like proof of her iconicity as much as the shaky clip of a teary 2013 performance, shot on a phone by a fan in Dublin.

I ask her why she was crying. “I’d been sick on tour for about two years with this medical anomaly that doctors couldn’t figure out,” she says, to my surprise. “That’s a big part of my life: I just feel really sick a lot of the time and can’t figure out why. I’d gotten these shots in Russia, where we’d just been. It was just heavy. It’s just heavy performing for people who really care about you, and you don’t really care that much about yourself sometimes. I thought it was sad. I thought my position was sad. I thought it was sad to be in Ireland singing for people who really cared when I wasn’t sure if I did.” I’d expected self-congratulation, the triumph of finally making it. You never really know.

We’re speaking in the Brooklyn backyard of this story’s photographer, and she’s wearing one of his shirts. It fits her poorly—probably a men’s XXL—and with her hair and makeup done up for the cover shoot, she gives the impression of a young lumberjack’s date the morning after prom. She must know this. They’d been taking the photos in the house earlier, in an attempt at a more laid-back glimpse of a star known for her Hollywood glamour, when she noticed a rack of his vintage clothes and asked to pull from it. More than raw beauty, hers is the gift of producing a precise effect; voilá, she looks like somebody’s girlfriend.

It’s a few weeks before the release of her second major-label album, Ultraviolence, and like any artist with over a billion YouTube views, the 27-year-old Lana Del Rey is blessed and cursed with a punishing schedule. By the time I click off my recorder, after nearly 90 minutes, her publicist has twice come out to end the interview. In both cases, she rebuffs him. Barefoot, she carries a casualness with hardly a hint of the imperious pop star I’d expected; she’s excited, pensive, a little bit apprehensive. After, she tells me it’s the longest interview she’s ever done.

From the backyard where we sit, through an old screen door with a frame rimmed in dried-out vines, I can always hear her entourage. Among the six or seven inside, there’s her bodyguard, formerly employed by Brad Pitt, and her British stylist, Johnny Blueeyes, who during the shoot was prone to bursting into the room and crying, “You’re a staaaar!” The whole team, she says, was hired in 2011, after “Video Games” attracted offers from Interscope and Polydor. “I met everyone the same week,” she says. “Because I was very shy, I just sort of stuck with them.” Later, she mentions the staff again, by way of self-analysis. “I’m never the star of my own show,” she says. “I have a very complicated family life. I have a complicated personal life. It’s not just my life, it’s everyone else’s in this extended family unit. It’s always about someone else, even with the people I work with. I’m the quietest person on the set, generally. I’m actually the one that’s trying to keep it all together. It’s pretty weird. It’s a weird, weird world.” She’s chain-smoking Parliaments.

Everyone knows Lana Del Rey’s so-called true identity: she was born Elizabeth Grant, daughter to an entrepreneur who sold domain names. In the press, there’s been a perverse joy in labeling her a phony, whether that’s regarding her supposedly surgically enhanced lips (she has always denied this), or the rebranding that marked her early career. She was born in Lake Placid, in upstate New York, and went to boarding school in Connecticut. When she first started doing shows in 2006, while studying metaphysics at Fordham University in the Bronx, it was with a folky bent and a guitar that her uncle taught her how to play. The F chord was too hard, she later told the BBC’s Mark Savage—“Four fingers? Never going to happen”—but she recorded an acoustic album as May Jailer just the same. (That record, Sirens, was never released, though it eventually leaked online.) In 2008, while still in college, she signed a $10,000 record deal with an indie label called 5 Points and moved to a trailer park in North Bergen, New Jersey. index Magazine filmed a giddy interview with her there; she appears in a car mechanic’s windbreaker, her platinum blonde hair tied up with a baby blue scarf, and, when asked about the “very cohesive package” of her musical identity, says, “It has been a lifelong ambition and desire… to have a defined life and a defined world to live in.” During this period, she teamed with David Kahne, a producer for Paul McCartney and The Strokes, and developed a more idiosyncratic sound for her self-penned lyrics, with affected jazz vocals, synthesized orchestra sections and hip-hop drums—an uncanny mix of old and new. Under the name Lizzy Grant, she released an EP, Kill Kill, and recorded an album, Lana Del Ray A.K.A. Lizzy Grant, which sat on 5 Points’ shelf for two years before it was digitally released in 2010. By then, she’d gone brunette with swooping Veronica Lake curls, and was spending time in London in search of another deal. With the help of a newly hired manager and lawyer, she bought back the album rights and pulled it from the market. Henceforth, she would be known as Lana Del Rey.

But her past was still there in traces online, the story of a small-town girl with big dreams and the cunning to change herself to make them come true. It’d be an all-American tale, if only she seemed self-made; instead, there was a discomfiting sense of someone else behind the scenes, orchestrating a bait-and-switch with secretly funded videos that only slummed their DIY aesthetic. For an artist who broke online, her father’s background raised red flags—beside selling domain names, he’d worked in advertising and helped market her Lizzy Grant releases. And there was a suspiciously short time between “Video Games,” which was listed by many blogs as a self-release, and the announcement that she’d signed with two major labels. In any case, she was never especially embarrassed about her ambition; rather, she embraced it as a defining trait. On “Radio,” the pluckiest song on Lana Del Rey’s relentlessly downtrodden debut, Born to Die, she sings of success like a taunt: American dreams came true somehow/ I swore I’d chase em until I was dead/ I heard the streets were paved with gold/ That’s what my father said… Baby, love me cause I’m playing on the radio/ How do you like me now? She was a star who announced her own arrival, singing of fame with a wistfulness even as she was just beginning to taste it.

Many critics were bristled by her supposed fraud. The New York Times’ Jon Caramanica pronounced Lana Del Rey D.O.A. in a scathing review, concluding with: “The only real option is to wash off that face paint, muss up that hair and try again in a few years. There are so many more names out there for the choosing.” Pitchfork’s Lindsay Zoladz called Born to Die “the album equivalent of a faked orgasm.” It was an unusual time for music, with major labels chasing the internet’s whims by poaching unproven newcomers off the strength of a viral track and a look. For skeptics, Lana Del Rey became a symbol of puffed-up online buzz itself. (Before Zoladz’s 5.5 review, Pitchfork had notably awarded “Video Games” Best New Track and granted her a Rising profile, ostensibly reserved for artists they recommend.) The Hipster Runoff blogger Carles, a one-man peanut gallery to the indie press, was Lana Del Rey’s most visceral and obsessive critic, but also one of the most insightful, because criticizing her always came hand-in-hand with criticizing himself and the music web’s ceaseless appetite for breaking artists to sell to brands (or take down in think pieces). He called it their “dark, abusive, co-dependent relationship on the content farm.”

But as it turns out, a lot of music fans didn’t care. Today, Born to Die has sold over 7 million copies worldwide, more than Beyoncé’s last two albums combined. Ten months after the LP’s release, her Paradise EP debuted in Billboard’s top 10. Eight months later, Cedric Gervais’ EDM remix of “Summertime Sadness” went platinum; soon after, her song for The Great Gatsby soundtrack, “Young and Beautiful,” went platinum, too. On that last track, a haunting orchestral number, she directly addresses her own status and the position of many a woman, pop idol or not: Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? Sometimes her songs drag long, and sometimes her self-seriousness can be grating, but in beautiful moments such as that, with her voice situated among an aptly hot-blooded score, Lana Del Rey’s confidence about her own vulnerability transcends melodrama into the realms of great art. In the period since her big authenticity reckoning, one thing has become clear: accusations of constructedness would not crush her. She says they came close, though. Shortly after the release of “Video Games,” she started dating another musician, Barrie-James O’Neill. According to a profile of her in Nylon, he first phoned her out of the blue after his manager sent him the video with the caption “Your future ex-wife.” I ask what he was like during the period of her most pronounced attacks. “He was worried,” she says. “I was, you know, a mess. I totally wanted to kill myself every day.”

Over the years, four themes have come to define her lyrics, whichever the persona: indecisiveness, submissiveness, reverence for American icons and self-destructiveness, both within herself and the men she idolizes in song. It’s a lot of “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss),” and in fact, she quotes that infamous song unwinkingly on the title track of Ultraviolence, before continuing, You’re my cult leader, I love you forever, I love you forever. The consistency at which these four themes appear in her music suggests not quite a foxy con artist, but rather someone moving superficial pieces around themselves—a name, a look—until they find a comfortable identity, much like anybody navigating young adulthood. So I ask her what she was up to with those old Lizzy Grant videos, when she’d don a Marilyn Monroe wig, drape herself in the stars and stripes and blow the webcam a kiss. “Honestly, I feel like it’s more of a girl thing,” she says. “I was just kind of playing, and, literally, I’m still playing. For me, being this way and dressed like this isn’t different than being out in a wig. It’s all the same to me. It’s all nothing, it’s all everything. I could really go any way. I’ve lived a lot of different lives. I lived down in Alabama with my boyfriend, I lived here in Brooklyn and in Jersey. I’ve been a lot of different people, I guess.”

There’s a monologue that opens her “Ride” video, which she tells me is autobiographical. Part of it goes like this: “I was always an unusual girl. My mother told me I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.” In the video, she has sex with a 40-something biker on a pinball machine. In “National Anthem,” she’s married to A$AP Rocky, who portrays a black president who likes to shoot dice. In “Tropico,” she runs with a Hispanic crowd. In a number of others, she’s with a scrawny white guy with tattoos. The men change but sex is constant; Lana Del Rey embodies searching for yourself in someone else. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she tells me at one point. “I’m trying to do what feels right. I tried a lot of different ways of life, you know, things I never really talk about, just because they are kind of different. I didn’t really have one fixed way that I could envision myself living. Going from a good relationship to a good relationship—I thought that was healthy.”

Her portrayal of those relationships, though, has prompted mixed reviews among feminists. Some criticize the way she seems to idealize powerlessness and servitude, while others appreciate her fluid embodiment of different identities, as well as her candor about both her desire and her weakness. In any case, her comments on the subject will be disappointing for both camps: “For me, the issue of feminism is just not an interesting concept,” she says. “I’m more interested in, you know, SpaceX and Tesla, what’s going to happen with our intergalactic possibilities. Whenever people bring up feminism, I’m like, god. I’m just not really that interested.” Fortunately, her ambivalence about politics doesn’t undo any subversiveness that may be embedded in her work (though, nor does it excuse any ill it may cause). When pressed, she adds, more illuminatingly, “My idea of a true feminist is a woman who feels free enough to do whatever she wants.” I ask her why she’s always being choked in her videos, and she gives a fitting answer: “I like a little hardcore love.” That raises an important point: she’s the one willing these scenarios into existence, romanticizing the very things that hurt her. She writes her own songs and music video treatments, and a similar self-mythologizing applies to her interviews, too. In a Lizzy Grant-era piece for the Huffington Post, she told a reporter, “Strangest performance: Alone in a basement for a handsome record executive. Strangest [song] ever written: Back at his office while I was making out with him.” When I ask her if she regrets joking like that, given how often people perceived her as a puppet of some executive team, she says, no, the story was true: “I had a seven-year relationship with the head of this label, and he was a huge inspiration to me. I’ll tell you later when more people know. He never signed me, but he was like my muse, the love of my life.” Rather than shying away from the snake pit that is sex and power, she walks right in. On Ultraviolence, there’s a song called “Fucked My Way Up to the Top.”

But is she happy now that she’s there? No matter what, her singing voice seems so sad. In an essay called “The Meaning of Lana Del Rey,” a French academic named Catherine Vigier offers one explanation: “She is representing and speaking to a contradiction facing thousands of young women today, women who have followed mainstream society’s prescriptions for success in what has been called a post-feminist world, but who find that real liberation and genuine satisfaction elude them.” Vigier goes on to argue that, for women living under capitalism, there can never be happiness—not through money, nor celebrity, nor even love—and she says the music makes this point clear. So there you have it: a post-feminist, socialist reading of Lana Del Rey. There’s a queer reading available, too, if you consider her identity-play synonymous with dressing in drag, as Christopher Glazek did in Artforum, calling her a “great queer performance artist.” With Lana Del Rey, everybody’s a critic, and any interpretation is possible.

By the time of Ultraviolence’s release, those infinite opinions have long since canceled each other out, leaving room for listeners to take up a more subjective relationship with her music without the pressure of coming up with something clever. Compared to Born to Die, the new album sounds far more like straight-up rock music, recorded in live takes with a Nashville band assembled by producer Dan Auerbach. She’s withdrawing from contemporary pop, a space in which she says she never felt comfortable; gone are the genre-blurring samples that gave her debut the impression of trying too hard to be trendy. The album feels like a sprawling American desert, devastatingly huge, windswept by shrieking electric guitars. Lana Del Rey is surrounded by ghosts and completely alone, the last lines of her verses reverbed out and leading nowhere forever. We could go back to the start, she sings on the title track, but I don’t know where we are. Certainly the rock ballad suits her retro preoccupation; the lead single “West Coast” evokes the opening riff of The Beatles’ “And I Love Her” and the chord progression from The Stooges’ proto-punk “Dirt.” She seems to have found confidence in psych-rock and narcotized swing.

One of the most telling lines from Born to Die was on the song “Off to the Races”: I’m not afraid to say that I’d die without him. Within the self-contained world of that album, this was both a low-point and a high-point, with Lana copping to utter reliance on men but also having the self-awareness to say so. On the Ultraviolence standout “Brooklyn Baby,” she exalts her band-leader boyfriend for a few verses, then lands on this uncharacteristically self-assured gem: Yeah, my boyfriend’s really cool/ But he’s not as cool as me. I ask her about the line, and she says, “That wasn’t even supposed to be there, and I kind of sang it with a smile, and Dan was looking at me and laughing. I’m just kind of fucking around.” She’s already convinced everyone else of her worth, but here she seems to have finally convinced herself.

In that Lizzy Grant interview with Huffington Post, she spoke of her love of American icons: “All the good stuff is real but isn’t, myself included… Whatever you choose to be your reality is your reality.” You can be the president’s wife, as in “National Anthem,” and you can be his mistress; you can be a stripper and you can be Eve, as in “Tropico”; it doesn’t matter which version of yourself came first when you can be everything at once. That’s a powerful thought, and I’m not sure she even completely understands it. “My career isn’t about me,” she tells me at one point, lamenting the misunderstandings about her that she says have riddled her critics’ attacks. “My career is a reflection of journalism, current-day journalism. My public persona and career has nothing to do with my internal process or my personal life. It is actually just a reflection on writers’ creative processes and where they’re at in 2014. Literally has nothing to do with me. Most of anything you’ve ever read is not true.” We don’t know who she is, but you know what? Neither does she.

As she moves from one character to another in her music videos, and from one type of man to another, from one recording alias to another, Lana Del Rey performs not just existential crisis but the power to blindly push through it. On Ultraviolence’s “Money Power Glory,” she sings, My life it comprises of losses and wins and fails and falls, a line immediately followed by more self-sacrifice: I can do it if you really, really like that. Even if she’s only adapting to curry favor, isn’t that what we all do? We perform identity every day, tweaking ourselves for a boyfriend and a boss. Using the very idea of malleability, Lana Del Rey has fashioned herself a superstar, setting to music the human drama of altering yourself to survive and rise. Still, she’s enamored with self-destruction, and perhaps shapeshifting is also about precisely that: you play so many characters that you lose any stable sense of yourself, so that when you’re standing in front of a crowd, for example, and they’re screaming your praises, your response is confusion and tears.

At shows these days, she takes breaks between songs to sign things and take pictures with fans. A recent reviewer described the crowd’s reception as hitting “approximately jet-engine volume”; a music executive who saw her said it was like she was The Beatles. But talking to her, reality bends until only sadness seems like an appropriate response. That raincloud-eyed, tattooed guy who always appears in her videos, from “Blue Jeans” to “West Coast”—his name is Bradley Soileau. Toward the end of our talk, I ask her why she has used him so much. “I like Brad because I respect him that he’s free enough to use his body as a canvas,” she says. “He has a quote about war written across his forehead. I like that he knew that alienated him from society in a way that he couldn’t work regular jobs. He made a conscious decision and manifested it physically that he was going to be on the periphery. I like what that symbolizes.” That sounds a lot like what happens to someone when they become a famous musician, I tell her. There’s no going back for her either. “That’s true,” she says. “It’s pretty fucked up.” A stray cat tip-toes across the fence surrounding the backyard, and Lana Del Rey lights another cigarette. I ask her what she misses the most. “I miss everything.”

Originally published on thefader.com with the headline Lana Del Rey Is Anyone She Wants to Be, and in the June/July 2014 issue of The Fader with the headline Miss Everything.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“I think I need help with this” for Rafael pls??🥺👀

"So what do you think?" Rafael looks up at Jake from where he sits on the small little bench between rows of shoes, trying on a pair of basic black sneakers. The big man looks tired - but they all do, the three men who more or less seem to be always be in charge. Jake more than anyone else, though.

"Um. They're a little too small," Raf says carefully, shifting his foot, kind of moving it in a circle before he stands up. The shoe squeezes painfully tight along the sides and the end, so he sits back down again. "I think I need the next size up."

His master and mistress had shoes custom-made for his measurements, and he'd had no idea what size he was. He'd just kept wearing the shoes he ran away in. But Jake suggested these tennis shoes, which would help him fit in better.

"Okay. You want to practice asking for help in public, or should I do it?" Jake smiles at him. No judgement, voice low.

Rafael shifts, looking down at his hands on the bench, his black jeans and black shirt. Thinks about getting someone's attention in a store, and telling her what she's given him first isn't right, he wants - he deserves - the right thing.

His face heats at the idea and he clears his throat. "If-... if you would-"

"No problem. Just give me a second." Jake steps away, and Rafael overhears him, muffled from distance, saying I think I need help with this- to some customer service person, cheery and chipper.

Rafael takes the too-small shoe back off and sets it carefully in the box. Tissue paper rustles as he closes it back up and places it back on the shelf, half-hopping with one bare foot to do it.

"... oh, it's you," Someone says just off to his right, and he turns-

And he's eye-to-eye with one of the ones he used to go home with, when he was in the last safehouse. He's used to seeing the guy with short shorts and a tank top and a lazy, half-eager smile. But now he's in a polo shirt and long pants and shocked, and Rafael might not even recognize him except for his hair.

"Shit. We all thought you were refurbed," The guy says, voice low. He's always had Rafael call him Rei, but he has everyone call him something different. "Are you-... are you here with-"

"I'm in a n-new house," Rafael says, almost whispering. "I-I left-... I was kicked out of the other one. For..."

Rei smiles, wry and faded and sad. "For seeing us? You got caught?"

Rafael's throat tries to close and he slowly nods. He feels... naked, in a way he's never felt when he actually is naked. Rei and the others saw him in a way no one else did, weeping and begging for physical touch when he was denied it everywhere else and couldn't keep his head on straight.

"I'm sorry," Rei says, and looks to one side. Rafael watches his dark eyes flicker left and then back again, and Raf follows his gaze to see the perky young manager chatting with Jake, her head slightly to one side. She's flirting - Jake, Rafael thinks, hasn't noticed. Maybe won't notice.

Rafael can always tell when someone's flirting.

He's an expert on flirting.

"No, it's okay. It's... here is better. Where I am now, I mean. It's so much better. You remember, the one time when I told you about the guy in the museum who told me to call? I'm, I'm in his safehouse now. It's better. Are you-... are you not-"

Rei laughs, almost soundless. He shakes his head and moves forward, and Rafael takes in a soft breath. For a second, he hopes - ridiculous as it is - that he'll be kissed. No one really kisses him anymore. Not even Chris, who comes as close as anyone does, but holds back. And that's-... that's okay...

He... misses how it felt to be twisted up inside, though. When it was good, it felt like how he was always meant to feel. But when it wasn't...

It was worth running because of when it wasn't.

Still...

But there's no kiss. All Rei does is move past him, patting him on the arm. "I've got three jobs," He says, with a shrug. "This is one of 'em. I'm glad that you found somewhere good for you, though." He smiles, more sincerely this time. Presses his fingertips to his own lips, and then moves his hand to the side of Rafael's face. "Glad you don't need us anymore."

"You could go to a safehouse," Rafael says, in a rush. He grabs at Rei's hand, startling him. Kisses those fingertips himself. It's not right, it's not-... normal, but he can't stop himself. "You don't have to work so hard, you don't-"

"Not everyone's cut out for the safehouses," Rei says, kind but firm, and pulls his hand back away. "Trust me. You're better off here, but I wouldn't be."

"What?" Rei starts to walk away, and Rafael stares after him. "Why?"

Rei doesn't turn back.

"Because not everyone can be saved."

[ladycaramelli]

But Not Everyday Is A Beautiful Summer Day

description: it is a summer day and y/n want´s to escape the harsh reality, Tommy really enjoys it even tho he claims not to. (recommended song: Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey)

a/n: english is my second language;  this is my first post ever, this is just a snipped of a story

Please enjoy! <3

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„C‘mon Thomas, let‘s do something that has nothing to do with all of this!“, y/n almost begged him. Thomas was annoyed, he knew she could kill a man but this side, this „Fluffy“ side of her annoyed him sometimes. They weren’t even a couple. „C‘mon, you will like it!“, y/n jumped from the counter and pulled slightly on his arm. „I don‘t!“, he huffed the smoke out of his lungs, „You‘re so mean you don‘t even know what my idea was...doesn’t matter I‘m sure I will find someone else to spend my time with!“, y/n arrived at the door but before leaving the pub she turned to Thomas one last time, „If you change your mind pick me up in an hour.“, she did not wait for an answer, she knew he would pick her up. 

Exactly an hour later she heard a car honk in front of her building, y/n smiled to herself, grabbed the basket and the sheet which was laying ready on the couch. 

„I knew you would come!“, yn entered the car, taking the place next to Thomas, „I didn‘t.“. „You would never let another man spend my free time with me, as long as you know about it.“, she smiled knowingly and told him the way. „That‘s not true, y/n.“, „Oh that’s true, you just do not know when i spend my time with someone else.“, y/n saw how his grip tightened around the steering wheel. „You wanna argue?!“, Thomas asked, irritated, feeling her gaze on him. „No, I don‘t want to argue.“, y/n grabbed his hand from the wheel and massaged it, till she could feel his muscle relax. She just held it and caressed the back of it, watching the landscape change from city to fields. 

„Wait here!“, she said, jumped out of the car, grabbed her things from the backseat and walked a little bit further into the woods. Thomas could just see the hem of her bright dress so far she had walked. When she came back a big bright smile sat on her face. Thomas leaned against the car watching her, she reminded him of a fairy in this moment. „C‘mon!“, y/n said excitedly and grabbed his hand to pull him towards it. „Wait, you can’t see it yet.“, she walked behind him and tried to cover his eyes with her hand, but she was a bit shorter than him which wasn‘t helpful. 

„Okay you can open.“. When Thomas opened his eyes again, y/n stood in front of him, behind her was spread the sheet over the high grass, on the sheet were all kinds of food, a few meters away from their little place was a little river. The birds were chirping and the sun felt warm on their skin. 

„You like it!?, y/n laughed a little and walked over to him, „Oh yeah, i like it.“, it felt so peaceful, he wasn‘t used to it anymore. „I hoped so, come sit down.“ she led him to the sheet to sit down. The two eat and drink what was there, Thomas has taken off his blazer and vest, his shirt rolled up to the elbows, laying down in the sun with closed eyes, he almost dozed off. Meanwhile y/n was walking around picking all kinds of wild flowers she could find to make a bouquet out of it. She saw Thomas laying there and all she felt was happiness. She wished they could spend everyday here, but not everyday is a beautiful summer day like this one. She had taken off her shoes and with bare feet she walked to the river to grab a little bit of the freshwater in her hands only to throw it over Thomas when she arrived back at the sheet. y/n laughed and ran away as fast as she could when he startled from dozing. Thomas on the other hand almost had a heart attack from the suddenly cold water on his body, he shot up and made his way after y/n, around trees, through the high grass, her laugh in his ears. When he had her he slung his arms around her waist and pick her up, she fought back laughing with pedaling legs, „Let me go, Tommy!“, she laughed, „Oh no, you will pay for that!“, he laughed dry, the only thing that mattered to Jean was the fact he laughed. Thomas walked over to where the river was a little bit deeper, „Oh no, no no no, Tommy, please!“, y/n begged, now clamped onto him, since he was about to push her inside. She tried to make puppy eyes, to convince him not to push her inside, „Those doesn’t work, I don‘t have heart!“, with those words he pushed her inside, luckily y/n could hold her a little steady so she wouldn’t land in the river completely. She held out a hand, „Okay you got your revenge now help me out!“, he grabbed her hand just for her to pull him down into the river with her. She laughed and he splashed water in her direction, which stopped her from laughing. The game went forth and back, till both were soaking wet. But they laughed and felt like they were taken back 10 years. 

„Look what you made!“, y/n said, faking a sad tone pointing at her dress, „Look what YOU did!“, Thomas started patting his wet shirt which was clenched at his toned torso. „I don’t mind!“, she thought to herself seeing his abs, but she just shrugged as if she didn‘t know what she did. The two of them sat down to let their clothes dry in the sun. Both were laying on their back, y/n had her head  on his stomach and had her eyes closed. Thomas played with her hair which dried in the sun. He didn‘t know how he did that but he had braided a few strands of hers.

After a while of silence y/n turned her head to look at him, Thomas had her eyes closed one arm under his head the other one on her stomach. For a few seconds she listened to his steady, strong heartbeat, before she moved closer to his face. „Thomas“, „Hm?“, he hummed, eyes still closed but she knew he listened to her. „Don‘t ever say again you don’t have a heart!“, y/n said in a tone so light, it was almost a whisper, „Because you have a heart! I know it! Inside there is the strongest and bravest heart I know!“, y/n laid her hand down onto his chest, where she could feel it beating. Thomas slowly opened his eyes. She loved her view, those ice blue eyes she knew since she can remember. They felt like home for a long time. Thomas looked her in her eyes, they were watery and it was because of him, again. „Okay..“, he just answered, in the same low voice as her, as if those words were only meant for the two of them. He didn‘t know what to say to her, so he pulled her head close to him, y/n placed her head in the crook of his neck, feeling safe and peaceful. She wished they could live in this peaceful moment forever.

But the day went on way too fast for them, when the sun was coming closer to the horizon they packed their stuff and brought it back to the car. The ride home was silent but peaceful, both hanging in their own thoughts. 

[pennylanewrites]

hello! can i request jean (and armin if you take more than one character) cuddling with their s/o. gender neutral if you please!

hiii rey! sure thing, I love writing for my two husbands guys pls request more for them (yes they’re both my husbands. no they don’t mind)

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Jean Kirstein & Armin Arlert; cuddles with their s/o

genre: fluff!

cw: none! if you find anything triggering that I haven’t considered please let me know<3

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♡ Jean ♡

→ cuddles with jean happen at any given time, any given place

→ couch? cuddles. bed? cuddles. the floor? cuddles. a very small chair that won’t fit both of you? cuddles.

→ me thinks jean is very clingy, so he sometimes will just drape his legs over you when you want to get up

→ spoiler alert you won’t get up until he’s had his cuddles

→ when he’s big spoon he likes you having your head buried in his chest, his hands drawing shapes on your back under your shirt, legs tangled under a blanket

→ when he’s little spoon (which is more often than not) he will probably just fall on you, arms wrapped around your waist and yours play with his hair as you let him talk about his day. if you kiss his forehead or the top of his head mans will absolutely melt

→ asks for cuddles with a pout and puppy eyes while you’re doing work or homework bc ‘you can finish it later, cuddles can’t wait babe’

→ if you say you have a lot of work he’ll lift you up and sit on the chair instead, insisting you’ll work better if he’s holding you and massaging your shoulders

→ if you don’t get up, he straight up just sits on you. doesn’t care if he’s heavy, he’ll sit on your lap facing you, face buried between your neck and shoulder as he waits for you to be done patiently.

♡ Armin ♡

→ my sweet sweet baby

→ LOVES cuddles

→ not as blunt as jean when he wants to cuddle, but he will tug on your sleeve and bat those pretty blue eyes at you and next thing you know you’re melting in your seat

→ prefers cuddling on the bed, but won’t say no if you want some cuddles while watching a movie on the couch

→ LITTLE!SPOON!the littlest spoon!

→ ugh you just holding armin tight, and one of your arms under him is sore but you don’t care at all because you can feel his happy and content smile when he talks to you

→ god he would just intertwine his fingers with yours and caress your hand with his thumb, sometimes leaning down to leave a kiss on the back of your palm

→ likes when you play with his hair a lot, it feels so calming

→ has fallen asleep like that so many times, he can’t help it you just keep him at ease

→ I have this hc that armin sings pretty well

→ so on the rare occasion he’s the big spoon, he has you pressed against him, breath tickling your neck as he hums in your ear

→ he also ADORES resting his head on your lap, arms hugging your thighs as you play with his hair （＾ω＾）

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hey, thinking back to your “conversation” with the Kaminari anon, I got an idea.

Basically- Y/n (M! Reader) and Kaminari are having a competition at work, and the winner will get to top that night. The competition is pretty simple; at the end of the day, they will count up how many civilians they helped and how many villains they took down each. The one with the highest number, is the winner. The two had done this challenge quite a few times before, and Y/n had won almost every time due to Kaminari’s quirk’s side effect. But this time, Kaminari had made sure to prepare. He had trained with Bakugou to try and build his tolerance and had also gotten help from Kirishima to figure out which streets were busier and full of people during the day. And after convincing his boss to let him patrol that particular street, it had all worked out. He had won the competition, and what was waiting at home was a long night.. kinky-

Take your time and don’t rush it, Rei. Have a nice day/night! :>

lust games (nsfw), denki x reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: edging, flirty denki, vibrator, light bondage

a/n: i love denki sm ty for this request, this was also an amazing prompt

_____

pro hero chargebolt and h/n, always arriving at the scene just in time and occasionally a little late. the citizens could always depend on the couple to save the day with their amazing synergy and playful manner of defeating the villains. you and denki mostly patrolled near each other during work so the two of you usually help each other out when needed. or y'know, the blonde hero might casually stroll over to your area with a cup of coffee in his hand and lay a few flirtatious words on you.

"i'm winning today! and there's no doubt about it!" is a sentence you hear from your boyfriend almost every single day but never fulfilled his promise. he came close before but it never actually happened. this little game of yours started when the two of you started to lose motivation to work in general. knowing denki being the horn dog he is, you proposed this game. whoever helped the most civilians, or captured the most villains will get to top for that night. and ever since then, you've been winning everyday without fail, leaving denki as the bottom for the night.

he didn't mind as long as it was with you but a competition is a competition and he tries everyday to reverse what usually happens. little did you know today was the day it finally happened. denki had been training secretly by himself so that his quirk wouldn't overload himself as easily. it might also count a bit as cheating but he asked his friend, kirishima, to leak him all the locations near his area where civilians need help. in a way it's kind of sweet to think about all the things that he would do just for you. at the end of your patrols you tallied up the counts.

"56...57 and 58, how bout you denks?"

"56, 57, 58 and...59. i won! i won! you know what that means?! denki shouted and jumped in joy.

"alright alright! good job, i knew you could do it. i'll be waiting for what you have in store then~"

"oh just you wait baby boy, i'll give you the night of your life!" denki said while shooting finger guns at you.

you weren't expecting anything special, just usually what you do to denki but in return. what tricks could he have up his sleeves anyways right? you headed home with denki after that and enjoyed a hot bath and dinner together. you cooked denki's favorite hamburgers to reward him for doing so well at work today. the two of you watched some tv afterwards and relaxed in each other's arms, almost forgetting the big event for tonight.

"hey babeeee~" the blonde cooed in a flirting tone.

"hm? what's up."

"did you forget what i won today?"

"oh yah, you did win that huh. well, i'm ready for anything you're gonna do to me so…do your worst."

"with pleasure~"

denki picked you up with his arms bridal style and carried you inside the bedroom. he settled you down the bed and sat you up as he towered over you. not fazed by his actions you giggled a little at his attempt to top but it was still cute. your boyfriend gave you an angry pout and placed his lips onto yours. caressing you and stroking your arms gently while he was at it. you were usually rougher with him so it was a surprise to you how gentle he was.

the kiss ended with denki blushing and a smirk from you. despite all the preparations denki made he still gets flustered whenever he shares a kiss with you, it was adorable of course.

"a-alright! you won't be ready for this!"

"oh? let's see what you got, baby boy."

denki moved his lips down around your nipples. lifting your shirt up enough so that your abs and pink nipples are exposed, kaminari started to work on them. he was surprisingly well with his tongue. the blonde has been on his knees many times sucking your dick, but this was a different type of pleasure. it made you more sensitive than usual and you felt your cock start to rise inside your pants.

"wow~ look what we got here baby?"

you look down to see the bulge in your pants. unable to contain it any longer, denki took off your pants to reveal the cock that's been throbbing ever since he got started. he reached for your cock and started to stroke it while kissing your nipples. the stimulation from both below and above felt so good it didn't take long for you to start leaking some precum. seeing this, denki rubbed the tip of your cock and spread the precum onto the rest of your length for lubrication. he started to speed up his strokes and just when you were about to cum, denki stopped stroking your cock and focused on your nipples, making you orgasm from them instead.

the cum got all over your abs and some on denki's face. he gladly licked it all up and gave you a grin in return.

"just wait baby...if you felt good with that you won't be able to handle what comes next…"

you were a little scared of what denki was about to do next but excited at the same time. the blonde reached into the nightstand and grabbed a small rope to tie your hands up with.

"h-hey denks! what's this for?! you're kidding right!"

"ah uh uh~ this is to make sure you stay still for later hehe…"

you realized resistance was futile against your boyfriend and he had entire control over you right now. you let go of your defense and let him tie you up to the headboards. he reached into the night stand again to pull out an egg looking toy with a remote around it. you knew what it was but you didn't know when and how denki got his hands on it. denki placed it on the side and licked two of his fingers. lifting your legs up right after to prepare your asshole. he reached your prostate so fast and it felt amazing.

"f-fuck denki, right there...that's the spot o-oh fuck-"

"hehe~ these are just some tricks i learned by myself, glad to know it's making you feel good baby."

denki continued to loosen you until his fingers can enter and exit smoothly. it also wasn't a surprise your cock was hard again and dripping with precum. denki's eyes lit up seeing your hard cock and he grabbed the egg shaped toy he put out earlier. carefully, he strapped the toy to the tip of your cock and grabbed the remote control himself. he tested some different levels of vibration and found the right one judging from the volume of your moans. you started panting after denki finally settled down with the remote but you realized he wasn't done there. he won the game and he hasn't got what he wanted yet.

"alright baby boy! time for the main course, get ready for the night of your fucking life…"

denki took off his pants and stroked his cock a little. aligning the tip with your ass and slapping gently a few times before entering.

"oh fuck baby...didn't know you were this tight."

"hnngh…denki a-ah~"

denki struggled to fit in his entire length in your ass but managed after a few min. his cock immediately hitting your prostate and the vibrator on your dick getting you close.

"denki...please start moving, i want it…"

"you asked for it baby, here i go, hnngh!"

your boyfriend slowly started to move his hips, thrusting his cock into you again and again, deeper and deeper every time. you've never felt this type of pleasure before being the top and it left you speechless. it was a little painful at first but eventually felt heavenly. denki began to move faster because your moans became louder. his flirty attitude disappearing as he gasped for breathe in sync with you.

"f-fuck y/n, baby, i'm gonna cum soon, your ass feels too fucking good."

"please d-do, cum inside denki, cum inside!"

denki leaned over to you and connected his lips with yours while you wrapped your arms around his neck. his cock pumping cum into your ass while you came as well from his cock. both of you left breathless after the new experience you had. denki gave you a faint smile, glad to know you enjoyed it as you grabbed him back in for a kiss. leaning your foreheads together you two giggled, laughing at each other. he layed down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you were pretty tired too so you let it slide today without cleaning up. denki snuggled into your back as you gave him one last kiss on his forehead before heading to bed.

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.