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redfoxwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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Antler Play (Demon Alastor x Doe Reader)

Did you miss me?

CW: Lightly used incorrect deer facts, ruts and seasons, insertion of an item 100% not safe or intended for insertion, light fem receiving oral, female masterbation Rating: Adult Requested by: Anon Summary: Alastor, having just rode out his rut alone is faced with the startling realization that you, a fellow deer demon in the hotel, have not just come into season but your first season since your death. Alastor is left unable to mate you due to the poor timing but finds other ways to see to your needs and trick your body into thinking the deed has been done.

ps- please don't put antlers in your whooha.

Alastor was less than pleased to have a doe join the hotel residence. He found you to be a distraction, ever so alluring and tempting him away from his tasks. That didn’t stop the two of you from bonding, however, over the shared difficultness of being deer in hell.

Time passed and bonds deepened, though only in the privacy of your rooms. Alastor’s hesitance to have another deer in his territory shifted into acceptance and then something darker, more protective as seasons changed. Though he hadn’t expected someone who had just landed in hell to have anything in common with him, he was horrified by the tales of your father and soothed by those of your mother.

You bonded in the stories of mistakes made, sins committed and, while you were so much more innocent and sweet than he was, you had that darkness in your heart that he knew well. Blood-stained hands touched another set in passing, neither really speaking of the trust building between you.

Alastor had early on intended to send you away when your season drew close and yet he failed to do so. Week after week, he put it off, not so much as even mentioning it to you until he was in no condition to be anywhere near you. His rut had hit him like a train, leaving him no choice but to isolate himself to keep you safe from him. The last thing he needed was to force himself, driven by biology, onto you. Worse yet, he knew if you scented him too much, you would be rushed into your own season.

If he tried to say he didn’t know why he had let your first season sneak up on you, it would be a lie. He failed to warn you for fear that you would seclude yourself from him. It was the same reason he had failed to send you away as well- Alastor had grown attached to you. It was one thing when he was isolating himself from you but the idea of you doing the same to him caused a deep ache in his chest.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would risk some other buck finding you in season and take you as his. That was a privilege Alastor intended to claim for himself.

And he would, at the right time.

He had put off having that conversation with you until it was too late; he realized as the floral scent of your season filtered through his door, announcing your presence before you knocked.

Alastor had been beyond thankful that he had just finished his own long month of rut when he opened the door to your wide, teary eyes. Tall ears laid flat, twitching as a single tear ran down your cheek.

Rather than asking what was wrong, Alastor only stepped aside, motioning for you to enter his room. Timid steps, one right after the other, carried you and the heavy scent of you into his domain. The rich musk of a buck clung to the air, mixing with your scent to make an intoxicating promise of what could have been if he hadn’t been a coward.

“Why have you been avoiding everyone this month?” you asked, voice thick with tears as you turned to face him. “Why have you been avoiding me? Is-” you wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, ma chérie, I’ve had my own reasons for secluding myself away for the month. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Why do I feel like there is something wrong with me?” Another tear ran down your cheek. “Why do I feel like I’m going mad? Am I going mad? Is that why you- you’ve been-”

“I should have given you warning,” Alastor said, finally braving stepping closer to you. Warm knuckles ran down your cheek, smearing the trail your tear had left on the soft skin. “This is your first year. I should not have expected you to know.”

“Know what?” You whimpered, leaning into his touch.

“You’re going into season.” Alastor said simply.

“I don’t understand what that means?” Your ears flicked forward in a flair of frustration that quickly burned out as they sagged lower.

“It means that your body is going to crave a mate, seeking breeding.” He watched as understanding washed over your face, your eyes running over his lean frame, traveling up to his antlers, still wide, heavy and thick. “Bucks in rut or close enough to it will be drawn to you, and many won’t care if you’re deep enough into your season to be willing.”

“I don’t… You’re a buck, Alastor?” You wanted to step back, wanted to put distance between yourself and him. You couldn’t make your feet work. It felt like they had taken root in his floors as your heart flip-flopped in your chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I just finished my rut a few days ago. You’re safe with me.”

“Am I?” you asked, struggling to breathe through the thick scent of buck. Realization of what you were smelling and why it made you feel flushed stole your breath.

“I won’t let another buck come take you.” Alastor said, reaching out and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you to his side, leaned down and took a deep inhale of the scent coming off you in waves.

“Alastor?” your voice trembled as fire slowly spread through you. Now that you knew what that fire was, you understood that seeking Alastor out was a mistake in itself. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, ear flicking atop his head as he led you deeper into his room. “If you’d like, that is. Or I can wait outside. You can stay in here through it. The scent of me will help keep others away.”

You sat on the bed, soft blankets bunching under your hands as sweat ran down your back. Alastor’s scent surrounded you, rich, musky and driving you mad. There was an ache in your core that you hadn’t been able to banish with your hands alone.

Hours ago, you had lost your battle with your dignity. You had been determined not to do something as scandalous as pleasuring yourself in Alastor’s room, let alone on his bed and yet you had, again and again, never finding relief from it.

In the distance, an elk demon bugled, sending a wave of fear through you. You were a deer, not an elk, but how much did that matter in hell? In the living world, you knew the two animals could cross, though not commonly. Would the scent of your season draw him to you?

“You’re alright, he won’t come for you.” Alastor said through the door, “I’ve brought you some fruit. The sugar will help keep your energy up. Are you decent?”

“Decent enough,” you answered, tugging the skirt of your nightgown lower. It had been just over a week that you were holed up in Alastor’s bedroom and your season had only just gotten worse.

Alastor stepped inside the dim room, closing the door behind him. Long legs easily carried him across the room, to where you sat sweaty on his bed. Even outside of his own rut, the season having passed him for the year; he felt a stirring of desire for you.

This year, he could not take you the way you deserved, but he would ensure you remained unclaimed for the year. You would be his prize next year. Next year, he wouldn’t make the mistake of putting distance between you happen again.

He would ensure your bodies were close enough for your pheromones to align your seasonal cycles. Next year, he would be at a point where he could satisfy your seasonal needs.

“Alastor?” you asked as his eyes seemed to burn holes into your flesh.

He moved with a shake of his head, coming to sit next to you on the bed after setting the plate on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m burning up,” you whispered, face flushed from both the fever and the desire that you couldn’t rid yourself of. “It’s too much, Alastor. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this.”

Tears ran freely down your face as you crawled over to him. Trembling fingers reached for his thigh as he looked at you. You wanted nothing more than to strip off your nightgown and spread your legs for the most powerful buck in the area.

“Cher,” Alastor said, ear twitching as he looked down at you with regret. “I can’t, not right n-”

There was a shift atop his head as the large heavy antler dislodged, broken free by the simple pressure of a swat from his ear. He’d been expecting it to happen any day now, knowing well what was coming when they never totally shrank back down to the small prongs after he ended his rut.

“What?” you pulled your hand away as the antler fell between you, leaving Alastor looking decidedly lopsided.

“It’s normal,” Alastor said, watching as you picked up the thick antler, examining it before setting it aside. “Happens every year.”

“Will the other one fall off too?” You rose on your knees, crawling closer to the one antlered buck.

Alastor watched you, eyes running over your face. Sweat trickled down your neck, drawing his eyes lower and lower. The nightgown you wore was loose enough that he could clearly see down, to see the way your breasts hung from your chest, moving with you as you crawled closer.

Again, he cursed himself for the distance he had kept, knowing that he could have brought you comfort if he could only perform.

“I’m going mad, Alastor.” You whispered, fingers reaching out for him. “I need… I need something. Nothing seems to be enough. I don’t understand.”

“Your body won’t be satisfied without the touch of another.” Alastor said simply, “You’ve got no choice but to wait it out. It’ll begin to ease in a few more days or so.”

You swallowed thickly, shifting your weight as you rubbed your thighs together. “Can you?”

“Excuse me?” Alastor asked, leaning away from you a fraction.

“Can you touch me?” You asked again, tears slipping from your eyes. “You said it won’t help without another and… I trust you, Alastor.”

“I can’t,” Alastor started, only to have your pleading cut him off.

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered, hand landing on his chest as you drew closer and closer. “It’ll help to have a buck inside me, I know it.”

“I can’t,” Alastor said, taking your hand in his before his eyes flicked toward the discarded antler. “But lay back, perhaps we can come to a compromise.”

You wanted him inside you and Alastor thought he had the means to simulate that feeling well enough for your season. What you needed was something physical. A shadow imitation wouldn’t trick your season into thinking you’d been taken, no matter how corporal he could make his shadows. They were not him and he was what you needed.

“You’ll do it?” you asked, voice trembling as Alastor reached out, resting a large hand on your shoulder to guide you back. “You’ll do me?”

“In a matter of sorts,” Alastor said, as he positioned you on your back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He nudged your knees apart, allowing him to slot himself between them as he sat on the floor. “If you’ll let me, I can try to take care of you this season.”

“You have been,” you whimpered, timidly allowing your legs to spread farther apart as Alastor’s large hands ran over your thighs. “I keep needing more. I’m sorry.”

Alastor shushed you with soothing caresses up your thighs, pushing your nightgown higher and higher until he exposed your glistening sex. Fingers ran over the damp curls as he spread you wider, slick coating every part of you, smearing onto your thighs. Though he willed it, his cock remained still in his trousers. Oh well, he would just have to make do.

“Please,” you whimpered on the bed as his fingers caressed your slit, smearing slick and coating his claws.

Your back arched, delicious pleasure running down your spine as his claw tipped finger worked into your tight opening. Muscles fluttered and clenched around him as he worked his way inside you. As he worked, he kept his eyes on your core, watching how you shifted and rocked, always seeking more.

“More.” Your sighs nearly stole away your request as he worked his finger in and out of your slick opening. “Please.”

Alastor soothed you as he whispered praise, telling you how good you were doing for him as he worked a second finger into you, then a third. Your body struggled to stretch, wanting to cling to him as he worked you open. Red eyes watched as your chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with every gasping breath.

Your back arched as he worked his three fingers into you again and again, wet squelching sounds filling his room. Sweet pleas for more flooded Alastor’s ears as he ran his thumb over your clit.

“More,” you panted, pebbled nipples standing out against the silken fabric of your nightgown. “I need more of you.”

Alastor shifted, grabbing the discarded antler and eyeing it. The base was heavy and long, thick enough around it rivaled his cock… well, almost. He ran his fingers over the rough surface, examining the crown he had worn for most of the year, looking for anything that would catch or rip you.

“I have an idea,” Alastor said, bringing the antler closer to your core.

You sobbed when his fingers left you, long threads of slick reaching between his hand and your weeping cunt. Alastor used it to coat the base, lubricating it generously as he listened to your pleas to be filled and sobs over the uncomfortable emptiness.

“Please, I need you,” you cried out, shamelessly spreading your legs wide. Your core, sopping wet and on full display, had slick running down the curve of your ass. “I’m going to go insane,” you realized. “It’s going to drive me insane if I can’t have you inside me.”

Alastor shushed you, running the cool hard surface of his antler through your puffy folds, letting the ridges drag over your clit as your hips thrust into the air. The base caught on your opening, looser now that he’d worked his fingers into you.

The blunt end where it had spent much of the year rooted in his skull wasn’t shaped the best for penetration. Carefully, he worked the edge of the flat surface into your opening, rotating and working it inside you as you gasped.

“Alastor?” Your voice was unsteady as the thick steam of the antler pushed deeper and deeper inside of you.

“How’s that feel?” Alastor asked, backing the antler out of your core a few inches before slowly pushing it deeper inside.

“F-full,” you stuttered out, breath coming in rapid pants as he worked the antler deeper and deeper, rough edge dragging against your sensitive walls. “So full.”

“Good,” Alastor purred, pushing and pushing as the antler slid deeper, tines branching out and spreading your opening wider as he watched slick run from your hole. “A part of me is inside you. Do you feel it?”

“Y-yes,” your voice trembled as he backed the antler out slowly, just to work it back into your loosening walls. “You’re inside of me, so deep.”

“Does that feel better?” He asked, thrusting the antler into you with a little more speed and force. “Does that soothe you?”

“Fuck,” you screwed your eyes closed, struggling to remember how to breathe as Alastor’s hard thick length into you again and again. Pleasure fogged your mind as you whimpered at each thrust. “So good.”

“You have to answer me Cher,” Alastor warned. “I need to know if it’s helping.”

“Yes,” your back arched as he filled you again and again. “Fuck yes. Yes.”

Lips kissed your thigh, soft lingering touches that ended with a string as he nipped at your skin, tasting you as he fucked into you. Before his eyes, your back arched and head lulled to the side.

“Oh, you’re beautiful like this,” Alastor whispered as he shifted, trailing stinging kisses up your thighs.

You moaned, the sound thick and unreserved as his nipping mouth came closer and closer to your core. How he could be fucking you, be inside you while kissing your leg, you didn’t know. The fog of your season had fully blanketed your brain. No longer were you sure how or with what Alastor was fucking you, just that he was. All you knew was a part of him was inside you.

Faster. Harder. He fucked you with the antler without hesitation, eyes scanning over your body as he did, checking for any sign of distress. Sweat shone on your skin, reflecting the soft lights in the room. Your hair was messed, framing your face.

The sound of your cunt squelching with every hard thrust of the antler, blunt end surely bullying your cervix filled his ears. His doe was pleased, and that stroked his pride. His doe.

Yes, you were his doe. He was making you his.

“Close,” you gasped as he tilted the antler down, changing the angle to allow him room to wrap his lips over your clit.

Red eyes flicked up the length of your torso, taking in the way your stomach bulged just slightly with each powerful thrust into you. He watched as he ran his tongue over the sensitive nub of nerves heading your slit. The taste of you drew a deep moan from his chest as you thrashed on the bed, body pulling tight quickly.

He was the first to taste you since your death. There would be no others to drink from your nectar. Alastor knew well his kind did not have the drive to mate for life, but that didn’t matter to him. He was a possessive man. Once he was inside you, none would follow.

The flat of his tongue ran over your clit before shifting to a point, swirling around it as you gasped. He repeated the movements again and again as you moaned, hips rutting into him. You were close. He could feel each fluttering twitch of the strong muscles of your core as he drove you closer and closer to your edge.

You came with a shriek, muscles tensing and letting go in a chaotic rhythm. Under the ministrations of his tongue, he could feel the shockwaves run through your cunt. Even your clit was twitching as he sucked hard at it.

Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of his ear, tugging as you tried to get a break from the sensations. It was pointless. He continued as he was, licking, sucking and thrusting his hard length into you.

It was a battle. Your body wanted nothing more than to suck the antler deeper, trying to milk it of seed it couldn’t give you. Alastor mimicked the way his hips would piston as he sought his own releases during his rut.

Fast, wild, violent thrusts deep into your cunt, again and again. He pushed you from your first orgasm into your second as his pace stuttered. There were a few last thrusts as he worked his antler as deep as possible, mimicking the way he would seat himself inside you next year to deposit his seed.

Would it be enough to calm your season and let you find peace? It was your first season and your body didn’t know better, yet. Could biology be so easily tricked? For your sanity, he hoped so.

Soft sobs filled his ears as your hand fell away. The heat that had been radiating from your body cooled. Shivers racked through your frame.

“Better?” Alastor asked, wiggling the antler inside you but keeping it seated in place while he stood.

“Much.” You had an arm thrown over your eyes, too afraid to look at the man that you shamelessly begged to fuck you.

The bed shifted as Alastor climbed up next to you, gathering you into his arms and nestling you against his chest. As he did so, he was mindful to keep your legs splayed to accommodate the tines still extending from your cunt.

Long arms reached down, softly wiggling and thrusting the antler still lodged inside you.

“What happened?” You asked sleepily, finally having a mind clear enough to realize it wasn’t Alastor’s cock inside you.

“First season,” he shrugged as he softly twitched the hard shaft inside you again. “Looks like your body isn’t sure how it works yet, and accepted my antler as a substitute.”

“You…”

“Fucked you with my antler,” Alastor said simply, “Yes.”

“You’re still fucking me with it,” you realized as Alastor lazily pushed it back inside you, refusing to let it slip from your twitching opening. Each shift he made in the antler’s position, each twitch and thrust, had you gasping and arching your back.

Alastor watched every reaction, taking in the way your pebbled nipples stood out against the silky nightgown. One strap hung off your shoulder, so close to exposing one of your breasts.

“I am,” he smiled widely. “I’m replicating how a buck would stay seated within you after. It’ll keep you from seeking to be mated again.”

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, head turned into his neck. You were nothing to Alastor, and you had to keep reminding yourself that as you resisted the urge to lean forward, bringing your lips to his neck. “For helping me.”

“Next year, I’ll be able to better help you,” Alastor promised.

“What do you mean?” Your eyes grew heavy as you listened to the steady beat of Alastor’s heart, only twitching wider every time he softly moved the antler buried in your cunt.

“Next year it’ll be my cock you ride your season out on. I’ll be prepared next year.”

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slytherinshua · 5 months ago

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FIRST KISS

genre. fluff. friends to lovers. mutual pining. they're both shy beans. warnings. kissing. pairing. bestfriend!anton x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. hannie my favourite anton stan happy birthday and remember i love you so much!!

“I have a really bad predicament, and you don’t have to agree to help me, but I really need help and I don’t know who else to ask.”

Anton looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your anxious words. What could possibly be happening to get you this worked up?

“What is it?”

You sighed, “I’ve never had my first kiss.”

“What?” Anton was even more confused now. What did he, your best friend, have anything to do with this?

“And my best friend set me up with a blind date but I’m scared he’s going to kiss me and I don’t want to have my first kiss with someone I’ve just met.” You spilled the rest, nerves building up in the pit of your stomach.

“Can’t you just say no if he asks to kiss you? Any decent guy should know that consent is key.” Anton tsked.

“I know, I know, but—” You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, unsure of how to word what you were trying to say.

“But?”

“But I’m scared I won’t be able to say no.” You confessed, feeling more embarrassed than you ever had in your entire life.

“Oh.” Anton was silent for a moment, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, I…” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to ask, “I was hoping you’d… be my first kiss.”

Anton looked like a deer caught in headlights. To say this was unexpected would’ve been a serious understatement. He would have more easily believed that the ocean was yellow than to think that you— his best friend (and crush)— would be asking him to be your first kiss. And for what? Because you were too scared of having it with your blind date?

“O…kay?”

“What? Really? You’re not… weirded out by it?” You asked cautiously.

Anton shook his head, “No. But why me?” Because you’ve been my crush since I was 10.

“Because… I know I can trust you.” You reasoned. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the entire reason why you wanted to kiss him either. “And I know the likelihood of my first kiss being an amazing experience is low, but I at least don’t want it to be with someone I never wished I ever kissed.”

“And you don’t think that kissing me will be something you regret?” Anton asked skeptically.

“No.” You said honestly.

Your best friend nodded, “Okay. As long as you’re comfortable with it. I’m happy to help.” He smiled, and you could feel all of the nervousness dissipate from your body.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. He shook his head no, that cute little smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “Really? And you don’t mind if I’m your first kiss?”

He giggled, “No. I trust you with anything, including this.”

You both stared at each other for a while, the silent question of who is going to make the first move? hanging in the air, making your stomach flurry with nerves. Anton eventually seemed to get the hint that you were far too nervous to initiate the kiss, and tentatively placed his hand on your jaw, tilting your chin up to him gently.

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Anton was beautiful, it was a well-known fact, especially to you. But you rarely had the chance to look at him this up close. Your brain shut down. You forgot how to blink or breathe or do anything but stare at him, watching as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you anticipated the contact of his lips against yours. Your hands gripped the cushion of the couch tightly, but as soon as you felt his lips first touch yours, your entire body relaxed.

You were sure this moment would live in your brain forever.

Anton’s lips tasted like coffee, slightly sweet. They were soft and plush and moulded with yours as if it was always meant to be. You found yourself falling closer to him, trying to make the kiss last for as long as possible.

You had known what to expect from this moment to a certain extent. The amount of rom-coms you had watched over the years could give anyone an idea of how to kiss someone. But you hadn’t expected it to feel this exhilarating. It was as if every nerve in your body was alight, and the only things your senses could take in was Anton.

A surge of disappointment hit you when Anton pulled away. You knew the kiss couldn’t last forever, but you wished it had been longer. You would fall right back onto Anton’s lips immediately if you had the guts to, but you didn’t want to overstep. 1 kiss was all he promised you. Everything else would go back to normal now. You were back to being his best friend. Nothing els—

“I have a crush on you.”

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to open your eyes to see his reaction. You’d much rather the ground swallow you up whole immediately. You never wanted to show your face around him again. How could you let those words slip past your lips? Were you really that brainless?

“What?”

You blinked your eyes open nervously, a very flushed Anton facing you. He looked just as confused as when you had first asked him to kiss you. You gulped, trying to think of anything to say that could possibly save you from this situation.

“I… You know what, just forget it-”

“I can’t just forget the girl I like telling me she has a crush on me too.” He said quickly, catching your arm before you could escape the room.

“What?” You blinked blankly. Your brain felt like TV static.

“I like you too. I always have…” Anton repeated shyly, eyes darting to a random spot on the wall so he didn’t have to look at you.

“Oh.”

You wished you could have thought of some smooth response to his confession, but your brain had already been struggling to function since this morning. It had almost completely shut down when you asked him to kiss you, and was in the process of logging off forever since you first felt his lips on yours.

“Are you still going on the blind date?”

“Should I?” You asked lamely.

“No.”

Another silence fell over the room, swirling together with the million unanswered questions you had. Neither you nor Anton had the confidence to speak again, and you were left to sit in silence, exchanging eye contact discreetly for several minutes. When the silence felt like it was starting to swallow you whole, you finally found the courage to clear your throat and ask him another question.

“Then, can I kiss you again?”

You expected some hesitation from Anton. You weren’t sure why, given that he had just confessed he liked you too, but some part of your brain was convincing enough to make you think that maybe he didn’t feel as eager as you did to continue the kiss.

He was clearly just as eager as you were, though. You barely had time to gauge his reaction before he was pressing his lips to yours again. You felt him sigh in content, completely melting against you and your soft lips. In Anton’s mind, this was the definition of bliss. The girl he had liked for so long finally kissing him. When he pulled away, there was only 1 question that Anton had on his mind.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He whispered, lips still close to yours, enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. The start of a smile formed on your lips.

“Yes.”

The words barely left your mouth before Anton’s lips found their place on yours again. Now that he was yours, there was nothing he’d rather do than kiss you all day, memorising the feeling of the lips he had dreamed of tasting for years.

He regretted not confessing to you sooner. If this was what he had been missing out on, he would have mustered up the courage to tell you when you were still in high school. But, regardless, he was proud that he was your first kiss. He had always wanted you to be the first person he kissed, which was why he always rejected any girl who confessed to him. His eyes had only ever been on you for years. Now that he found his place, lips intertwined with yours, he felt that the moment couldn’t have possibly been more perfect.

↳ riize taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,,

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@talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @soheecore,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows

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citrinae · 6 months ago

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mornings with them.

contents; fluff, suggestive themes. warming up with some bite-sized headcanons. hope you guys enjoy <3

ft. the monster trio

here for part 2

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy

if he’s up before you are, that’s only because of the growling sound coming from his stomach. cross-legged on the bed with a lost look in his eyes, “imma get something to eat.” he’s definitely forgotten about the piles of snacks he keeps in his locker and that he makes sure to restock after each meal with your crewmates.

i can see him being a cuddly type. really likes to hug you from behind. in bed, while you're standing up, while you're brushing your teeth. if you happen to be the one to wake up first, fetch him some food from the kitchen and you will earn yourself a good series of hugs from your boyfriend. if not, that's ok, because luffy is a biter too, and he will not hold back from digging his teeth into your shoulder to convince you to go to the kitchen with him. this may or may not lead to the two of you enjoying some other type of meal.

the thing is that luffy, the moment he wakes up, won't stand staying in for too long. especially if you're on land he'll want to explore the surroundings and will try to make you join him on the adventure. knowing how much of a menace he can be objectively speaking you may have no other choice but tag along, but trust me, nothing will make him happier than getting to spend the first hours of the day with his partner in crime <3

“that was so cool,” he's saying to you as your backs are glued to the wall of a random building, chests heaving. out of the corner of your eye, you can see a group of marines searching aimlessly for your missing shadows. luffy takes you by the hand, “we showed ‘em good.”

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

you wake up first. but you’re never getting out of bed before he would, and that’s in most cases due to the fact that the arms resting around you are too heavy to lift on your own. you tried slipping away once or twice, but he always managed to keep you there. not like you mind it one bit, nestling yourself at your boyfriend’s chest filling you with a strange sense of warmth you wouldn't let go that easily.

“easy, tiger. what’s the rush?” his voice is sleepy with a guttural undertone to it. “staying in for a minute longer won’t set the ship on fire or anything. proven.” zoro will try to make you two stay in bed with him for as long as possible. you don’t even get a chance to convince him otherwise as he’s quick to fall back into his snooze, and you are usually soon to follow. the second time you open your eyes it’s because of the voices and steps coming from the hallway telling you that you might’ve overslept.

he also likes it when you lazily climb on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, enjoying each other's presence in silence. in the morning, he may not be the best converser. but there are times his hand may roll down your back, taking a good squeeze of your butt with a smirk plastered on his face, and that's when you know you will definitely be late to your chores.

if you’re on land, he might make it a habit to carry you on his back for a morning jog, the sun unfurling behind your forms as hours roll past. if you’re more the athletic type like he is, he’d gladly have you running by his side. either way, i think starting his daily training with you would work like the perfect energiser for him. although he would never admit it out loud.

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

i find sanji to be quite the early bird, having to set up breakfast for the entire crew and doing some first-hour arrangements in the kitchen and all that, so he wakes up before you do. almost every time. he’s already done with more than half of his chores by the time you open your eyes. when it comes to you, however, breakfast in bed is one of the many tell-tale signs of special treatment, and more often than not you get to wake up to the smell of coffee or favourite tea and a well-thought mix of sweet treats.

corny is this man’s second language. if you’re on land, expect to see some tiny bouquets of flowers on the tray, either bought or picked from around the ship, everything looking just so dainty and perfect “like you are, my love.” one of them finds its way behind your ear with a sweet peck on your lips.

and not rarely does he join you with his own cup of tea. leg to leg, your head leaning against his shoulder. a hundred percent the type to smoke in bed. he likes to take a few moments of tenderness with you, gently kissing your shoulder and neck and talking about your plans for the day. sanji will intently listen to you talk about any weird dreams you had, but if you tell him he wasn’t present in any of them he’ll most certainly become a pouting mess.

he gets handsy quickly 💀 and your thighs are perhaps his favourite spot to feel beneath the sheets. the longer you let him he’s one step closer to skipping cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. but the moment often shatters with some thuds at the door accompanied by luffy’s voice, all broken and teary, begging sanji to unlock the fridge.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons

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nak4m8to · 11 months ago

Text

Big Boss (18+)

corporate! au l rivals to lovers! l nsfw smut mdni!

summary : mingyu, a charismatic and ambitious executive, finds himself in a tense professional relationship with the reader. The reader, harboring a deep-seated dislike for mingyu, navigates the cutthroat corporate world with a determination to outshine him at every turn. As the two clash in boardroom meetings and compete for promotions, the ceo forces them to collaborate on a high-stakes project.

content : executive chef! mingyu, mixed! reader, mingyu being an asshole a lil bit + eavesdropper conversation SMUT! office sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m. and f.) degradation , praise, bigdickmingyu!, filthy and messy ass sex, cocky! mingyu, jealous! mingyu, jealous! reader, seungkwan and yeri gossiping,

wc : 8,649 k ( damn)

an : finally out! hope you’ll like as much i liked write it. Let me know what you think ! sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.Thank you for all the likes and the sweet comments <3

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One thing you specifically hate about him is how his smell lingered everywhere he went. The strong musky smell with the additional smell of his strong freshly pressed coffee. It was his signature fragrance. Every time, you smelled that strong coffee it reminded you of Mingyu. It might be one of the reasons of the loathe towards him, you can't get him out of you mind. This aversion, perhaps intensified by the constant reminder of him, was further fueled by the intense competition for the significant promotion your boss had put forward.

You also hate the way he was getting into your nerve every time he gets the chance too, it also felt you both have the same brilliant ideas in some of your projects. You hated his perfect face, the different moles on his face, you can even know where they are located. On his left cheek, on in his forehead and on his nose. His striking appearance in that perfectly tailored suit irked you. You hated how his long hair makes him look even better than he already is. You hated how small and intimidated you felt next to him even though you're not that small specially in those heels and how confident you are.

Although, he hated you too. He hated the sound of your heels clicking on the floor, he knows the sound of it better than the back of his hand. He hated the way your curls were surrounding your face, he hated the fact that you never came without your infamous lip combo, he might even know the products that you used, he think it's fenty ? hot chocolate something ? he hate the way you've smiled to every colleagues except him. He hated that you like to show off your body, either with those short skirt, long enough to be corporate appropriate but short enough to tease him, your glowy tan legs always makes you look ethereal or even when you wear those shoulder showing shirt.

Entering the new company building, you present your business card at the automatic gantries and exchange greetings with the receptionists. While waiting for the elevator, Mr Lee surprises you with a cheerful greeting, mentioning that the boss wants to see you for a presentation.

Entering the elevator and he press the button to level number six. "Really ? I hope he needs me to do it though it'll help for the promotion" you said winking at him. You start checking yourself through the mirror just to make sure your hair is in place until you see a silhouette coming from afar. Tall, large shoulders, long hair. Fuck that asshole, you said you to yourself.

"I don't know how you manage with all these project without a burn out reader" Listening to Mr. Lee as the frustration build up, you focus on the elevator buttons, you press them repetitively, not wanting to be near that man.

"Me too, I don't know how I manage, I just like competing against Mr.Kim I guess" hearing the brown hair man chuckles next to you but your attention is fixed on avoiding Mingyu.

As the elevator doors close, you flash a fake smile at Mingyu, successfully leaving him behind." I can't bare him" "I think everyone can see that reader ... You know one day you'll need to cooperate with him for work" "hopefully this day is not coming soon" You sighed while checking your e-mails in your phone. The small ding of the elevator makes your head to look up and the door opens. "After you Mrs. Reader" said Mr.Lee letting go out first."Thank your Mr.Lee" smiling at him. While walking towards your office, you felt eyes burning in your back, mostly your ass. Let's said that the dress you wore gave you justice. Did Mr. Lee let you pass so he can stare at your ass ? Did he ? He didn't right ?

Installing your bag in chair, you send a greeting to Seungkwan, sitting across of the open space, busy talking business with a client on the phone. "Hey! Ready to start the day ?" Yeri said to you "Girl have you seen the bags under my eyes ?" you give her a dead plan face expressing how tired you are but you can't show it to your superiors like Mr. Lee or even worse to your boss otherwise they would stop handing you important cases for the company due to the lack of sleep. Securing the promotion is essential to give recognition and reward sacrifices you've made so far, you deserve to be paid well. And bonus, Mr.Kim will not be your supervisor anymore. Well technically, he's still be your supervisor but he will not have that much authority anymore. Yeri start to rub her hand in your back to soothe the soreness due to the stress that your body endured. You start to printed out an important file that you supposed to handle to Mr.Jeon later so he can complete the remaining task by himself. Sighing in front of the computer, not prepared of what is waiting for you to be done at the end of the day

After a few hours, you finally get up and take the file with you. "Good luck reader ! You got it, Mr.Jeon will love your work anyway you're brilliant!" Seungkwan said trying to reassure you. "Thanks but he's kind of having that scary aura though" you said rubbing your neck trying to calm the anxiety down. "He does but you just need to seduce him a little a bit" Yeri winking at you making you laugh and relax a bit "I heard that he's a boob guy either way you have your chance, show a bit of cleavage and voilà" Seungkwan exaggerated the cleavage motion making you giggle even more, as you playfully hit his shoulder with the file. "You are both insufferable" "Perhaps we are, but you look less stress now"

You knocks firmly at the door, you hear a small "Enter", you pushed the door. Mr.Jeon smiled faintly at you as you enter his office. Always with his infamous specs resting on his nose. Someone already occupying the chair across from him, even from behind you recognized who is it. "Hello Mr.Jeon, here is what I found" handing the file to Mr. Jeon, who is seated at his desk."Thanks Reader, I'll try my best to continue what you've done""And me ? I don't deserve a hello ? after what you've done earlier" You meet his brown-eyed gaze, the intensity of it makes your thighs clench involuntarily. He sits in front of you, manspreading, his face propped up by his hand. As you observe him, the urge to wipe that irritating smirk off his face intensifies, especially with that damn suit. Surprisingly, you realize you might have a thing for men in suits, you didn't know that it was possible to have one. "What did I do? I don't recall anything " one of your eyebrows raised. He shift in his seat ready to answer you but Mr.Jeon interrupted him before its start to get hectic."Thank you again for working with me reader" "No problem, see you later" and you exit without giving a chance to Mingyu to reply. His tongue glides over his lips "Feisty" Wonwoo gazing on the file that you handed him. " I like em' like that"

Lunch time finally arrived, you rise, stretching your arms while waiting for Yeri to conclude her call. "Damn, that client didn't want me to finish with her" "Yeah I've heard that, let's go grab some lunch I'm starving, Seungkwan will join us"

Grabbing food in the restaurant's company, you ate your lunch while Yeri is talking about how she found the new recruit cute. You don't really recall his name. "Reader ! He's here oh my god look at him ! how the shirt hugs his arms" whisper-shouted, pointing at a tall, blond man with a mullet. Mr. Lee was showing him around. "He seems really cute, what's his name again?"

"Chan, you don't listen when I talk, right?" "Not everything, not gonna lie" "Something must be occupying your mind ? What is it ? Did Mr Jeon didn't like your work ?" "No, he didn't say anything about it" Little did you know that a pair of ears were eavesdropping your conversation with your favorite colleague. "You remember the guy that I met at the bar the other night ?" "Yeah, what about him" "He's cute but he was awful in bed" "Damn you have no chance at all" "The only way to make me feel better after those agitating weeks is literally having sex, and even that I can't have it" "I'll help you to find another guy that will make you cum I promise" putting her hands on your naked shoulder. "I can't even trust you anymore, do you know how long I didn't fucking cum ?!" whispering-shouting in your turn. Mingyu couldn't believe what he was hearing, you were mainly acting like a bitch towards him, particularly these last weeks, because you hadn't cum ?!

He felt betrayed and pleased simultaneously—betrayed because other guys had the chance to feel your skin under their touch and pleased due to the fact that you didn't get any pleasure from it. A demonic smirk adorned his face, he left the place not wanting to know more about it.

"Gossip of the day girls !" Yeri and you turn your heads in sync after hearing seungkwan's voice. "Well, one concerns you, reader. Why didn't you tell us that you closed the elevator's door in front of Mr Kim's face this morning ?!" "Reader ? Seriously?" Yeri uttered. "I was already pissed from that terrible weekend, I didn't want to interact him that early! I didn't know that Mr Lee is a snitch though!" "I think half of the people that work here kinda know that" "What's the second gossip of the day?" "The new hot guy will work with us" "No fucking way !" Yeri squealed like a teenager girl. "We were literally talking about him" "Yeri you better fuck him by the end of the year" "Don't listen to him, it'll be weird in the office if you guys have sex. Don't mix business and pleasure"

"Reader, you're boring ! We want drama! We want thrill in our life !" "Hey, look at that girl twirling her hair while talking to Mr. Kim." Your eyes follow the scene in front of you, capturing the interaction. The blonde girl is giggling at whatever Mingyu whispers in her ear, her laughter echoing in the air. One of her hands confidently grabs his biceps, creating an intimate connection that sends a pang of jealousy creeping into your chest when your eyes lock with Mingyu's. The atmosphere is charged with unspoken dynamics, and you notice the subtle shifts in body language between them. Mingyu's charismatic smile, the girl's playful gestures "I bet that joke wasn't that funny," Seungkwan remarks, rolling his eyes, sensing the tension in the air.

Adjusting your smudged lipgloss after the meal, you receive a message from your boss, Mr. Choi, instructing you to visit his office in fifteen minutes. Is this related to what Mr. Lee mentioned earlier this morning? "Guys, Boss wants me in his office. We'll catch up later for a break?" "Yeah! Good luck, reader! Think about the promotion." "I will."

The echo of your boots against the carpet prompts a smirk from Mingyu, signaling his awareness of your presence. Spotting him waiting for the elevator, you find yourself doing the same, unable to resist staring at how his suit accentuates his broad back. Catching a whiff of his distinctive scent, you unconsciously bite your lip, even with a layer of lip gloss applied.

As the elevator dings, coworkers exit with polite smiles, and you and Mingyu exchange nods with them. Inside the elevator, a subtle nervousness creeps in with him standing so close. Your fingers hover over the button for the ninth floor when you feel his rugged fingers brush against yours, both selecting the same floor. Startled, you withdraw your hand and fix your gaze on the closing doors, trying to feel indifferent to this sudden contact.

He breaks the silence, saying, "You know, there's no need to keep such a distance. I don't bite unless it's asked." "Don't worry, I just prefer to maintain a certain distance from you" responding to him while trying to distract yourself with your rings wrapped around your fingers. He start to shamelessly checking you out, causing your body to heat you. His eyes couldn't resist to your exposed back shoulder and neck. His weakness was really how that dress tightly embraced your hips and accentuated your ass. He start to think what you'd look like bent over on his office's desk with the lower part of the dress bunched up in your waist and the upper part exposing completely your tits. His thoughts were lost on what if you are wearing a bra underneath this god damn dress. You mentally cursed yourself why did you wore that thick dress, but you really like how you looked with it . The material was not appropriate for a Mingyu situation.

Ding, the door finally open and you unconsciously released the breath that you've been holding and star to lead the walk. Confused you still feel him following you, is he not going somewhere else ? Halting just outside Mr. Choi's door, you abruptly turn to find his equally puzzled expression. "Why are you following me?" "I could ask you the same. I have a crucial meeting with Seungcheol; he informed me about a last-minute project. I don't think you'll be needed, reader," he says in a manner that implies only a supervisor can handle such situations, making you feel inferior.

"Mr Kim, could you stop being so full of yourself for once?" The door unexpectedly swung open, surprising you both, revealing a blond concerned Mr. Choi. Did he died his hair ? Well, he looks hot blond. "I was waiting for your arrival. Enter; we don't have much time." You both approach his office, and he guides you to sit on the chairs across his desk while he takes his place.

"So, I've gathered both of you because I have a last-minute meeting in 3 days with SM Inc." "I thought it was planned for next month." "They advanced it." Mingyu's muttered curse makes me realize the severity of the situation. "Jeonghan is already handling a mission in Japan, and I have to go help him because he's facing difficulties. That's why I'm asking you, Mingyu. You're a good negotiator and a wise man," Mr. Choi says, looking at him. "And Reader, in just a few months, you've proven to the whole company how much you can do. You're my best asset, and you can come up with good arguments."

"But Mr. Choi, I can't even think of one argument right now. I'm not suggesting you to reconsider someone else, but Mr Kim and I have two distinct ways to work, so-" "I already know that. That's why I'm asking both of you to do it." You feel cornered because it's a critical issue and mostly because you need to cooperate with the asshole next to you.

Fingers running through his hair, Mingyu is thinking how he can complete a month's work in just 3 days. "We will offer them to take 12% of our shares, no more or less, and try to come up with good arguments." You start biting your lips out of nervousness. "Put your differences aside and work together for the company's future."

"I can work with her, but I don't think she can. She's quite temperamental," Mingyu says, turning his head towards you. Your eyes shoot daggers at him. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Kim? Are you implying that women cannot control their emotions?" As you size him up "I'm not saying women, I'm just saying you. Don't generalize it." "Hey, calm down, you two! This is crucial!" Wanting to roll your eyes, you resist the urge due to the fact that you have too much respect for your boss.

"If it helps, the one with the best arguments will be promoted." "I'm on it then." "Same!" "That's the spirit!" your boss claps his hands together. "But you're on the same team, okay? Don't make it too personal." Someone enters the office without knocking. "So, you've told them?" You turn your head to the man with short blond hair who just came through the door. What’s up about them with dyed blond hair ? Start to question yourself. "Yeah, I think they're both ready to work on it." The blonde man smirks at you, sensing his gaze. He approaches, takes your hands, and presses his soft lips on them. "I don't recall meeting you before. I'm Kwon Soonyoung, but you can call me Hoshi." Startled by his persona, you mutter a small "nice to meet you" out of respect. The dark-haired man on your side felt a pang of jealousy. More of possessiveness, why those men throw themselves at you. You're supposed to be exclusively his and only his he wondered.

"If you have more questions, ask Hoshi; he knows SM.Inc quite a lot." "Seriously, I should trust him," says Mingyu with an unserious smile on his face. "For that case, I think you should." "That pretty much it, thank you for your implication on it"

Rising from your chair and quitting Mr. Choi's office, Mingyu follows your every move. Suddenly, his calloused hands grab your wrist, and he instructs, "Reader, meet me in my office in 20 minutes." Instinctively pulling your arm away, you assert, "Firstly, don't grab me like that, and don't even think about putting your hands on me. Secondly, why in your office? I can work in my own and send you the arguments I've gathered." His hands release your wrist, and he explains, "Seungcheol mentioned that we need to collaborate, and we'll finish more early if two brains work together. Besides, my office offers the privacy and calm." He said implying the loudness of your open space with your noisy colleagues. You sigh, acknowledging the truth in his words but choosing not to admit it due to your pride. "Well, I need to call my client, inform her that Yeri will handle her mission alone, and I need coffee." Mingyu raises an eyebrow, "So thirty minutes will be enough?" suggesting the time required for your meeting. "I think so." "Now, if you excuse me," he passes closely by you, his body brushing against yours. Stunned, you can't help but flutter your eyes, too surprised to respond. "I thought you two were about to rip each other's throats out," Hoshi comments, accompanying you to the elevator. "I almost did." As the elevator doors close in front of Hoshi's and your face, you see Mingyu smirking, muttering, "Now we're even."

"No fucking way!" Yeri exclaims in shock as you deliver the news to her. "That mean I have to withdraw from the other case that we started, sorry" you said to her filling a bit upset. "Don't be sorry ! I'm more shocked that you will be working with Mr Kim!" "Who's working with who ?!" Seungkwan chimes in abruptly sipping his iced coffee. "Reader and Mingyu have a last-minute project that Mr Choi handled them, the presentation will be given in 3 days" "And now I have to meet him in 15minutes" you checked your phone " Wait, wait, wait" Seungkwan interrupts, making you both stop " So you're telling me that you'll be in the same room as Mr Kim by yourselves for the next 4 hours ?!" "Yeah, why ?" "Someone will be dead tonight" "Either him or her" "Or something else could happen"

You finish your call with your client, grabbing your laptop as you leave. "Please do not kill him; he's too hot to die young," Yeri jokes. "Like I care." "She seriously hates him." You confidently stride to his office, knocking on the door before entering. It feels like your first time stepping into his cold office, adorned with a small, expensive brown couch and a coffee table that looks as pricey as your rent. The closed blinds provide a cozy atmosphere, you can see throughout the blinds the beautiful view of the city from the windows. But it can't beat the view that you had of him. His attention is absorbed by the computer and scattered papers on his desk.

"I thought you'd never come," he remarks. "Well, here I am." His scrutinizing gaze lingers on your body unintentionally. "Here, come sit." Mingyu gestures towards a comfortable chair across from him, creating a necessary distance. You don't think you can focus with his buff body beside you. Seated, you open your laptop, both of you diving into your tasks, surprisingly the silence was comfortable and not a single moment of awkwardness happened. Focused on the critical situation and driven by competitiveness for the upcoming promotion, you find yourselves working together more smoothly than anticipated. As you can hear him shift on his chair. You glance in your rearview mirror, catching Mingyu as he takes off his suit jacket. Unable to resist, your eyes fixate on the muscles bulging beneath his shirt, particularly his pectoral muscles straining against the fabric. The desire to feel those muscles under your nails intensifies, and your mind starts to wonder about how he could manhandle you. Mingyu senses the intensity of your gaze, creating an unspoken tension in the air. "You like the view" Startled by his question "You really have a nice view of the city" avoiding the real question.

He smirks, nodding at your reply, and decides to tease you further. "If you ever need help with anything else, feel free to ask," referring to the overheard conversation from noon. Oblivious to the context, you assert, "I don't think I'm struggling with anything right now." Unaware that he's alluding to your earlier discussion about difficulties reaching climax with your partners.

Ding, your phone buzzes with a message. "Is it from the guy who couldn't make you cum?" Mingyu remarks, causing warmth to spread across your face and deep within your torso. Feeling humiliated, you scold him, "Where did you hear that?" With a nonchalant tone "You have to be careful about those discussions in the office, it's not really appropriate" "You’re quite a pervert to listen to women's discussions" Not knowing what to response to him. Uncomfortable with his prying, you open your phone to check Hoshi's message, attempting to avoid Mingyu's gaze.

Rising from his chair, Mingyu walk towards you, positioning himself in front of you. He locks your gaze with his, one hand securing the armrest of your chair and the other under your jaw. His touch feels warm, and you can't help but bite your lips as his whispered words about helping you echo in your ears. "I was not joking when I said I could help you with that" While Mingyu was thinking how you look with your mouth stuffed with his heavy cock, with your puffy, glossed lips surrounding his dick. You resist moaning by biting down harder on your lower lip. Attempting to excuse yourself to retrieve the file with Hoshi, you start to get up, but Mingyu's body remains an obstacle. His hand settles on the lower part of your back, making your knees weak. You feel the heat rising from your hands resting on his pecs, eyes still locked. However you can't help to feel something heavy poking on your lower tummy due to how squished your body's on him, fuck he's big big. "I really need to go," you plead, meeting his eyes, and he relents, allowing you to escape his touch. "You can't avoid it forever, Mrs. Reader," he warns, and you promise to return."I'll be back"As you leave, the rhythmic pulsing in your head makes you feel foolish. Surrendering to him so easily leaves you unsettled. You know just with this contact, you feel your thong dampened.

"Hey, Reader, here's the file that could help you for SM. Inc. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?" "Just a little bit stressed." "Come take a break with us." You sit yourself next to Mr. Lee, who was discussing with Hoshi before you came. "I would make you a coffee; you'll feel better," says Hoshi. "Is working with Mingyu really that bad?" Your voice sounds tired. "He's quite special, let's say it like that." Hoshi is back, giving you an espresso, which you kindly accept. You sip it while Hoshi explains what will be beneficial for SM to take part of your action. As you take a look at the folder in front of you, Mingyu enters the same room as you. "Do you need me already, Mr. Kim?" All heads turn toward him. Even other coworkers in the open space are looking at him; well, some of them are devouring his veiny arms exposed by his folded shirt's sleeve. Some of them, including you, of course. "You said you would pick up the file, not discuss with Hoshi," his eyes are going back and forth between you and his colleagues. You felt everyone's eyes trying to follow the discussion between him and you. "Well, I have it, but he was just advising me." "I thought you didn't need any help," implicitly talking about your previous conversation with him, but nobody knew what you were talking about. Then the same blonde woman from lunch came and asked, "Mr. Kim, do you need my help? I think I'll be a better help than Mrs. Reader." started to provoking you, the only reaction you gave her was rolling your eyes. However, she was almost about to grab his arm that you get up, and you do it instead, which makes Mingyu look surprised about your sudden reaction. Are you jealous? "I think Mr. Choi insisted that only Mr. Kim and I are required in this project, but thank you for your kind offer." You smile fakely at her and drag Mingyu into the quiet corridors. Hoshi and Dokyeom start to look at each other, thinking if this scene really happened in front of them.

"That was... something," Hoshi comments as you and Mingyu leave the room. "I think 'something' is quite the word to describe what happened in front of us." said Dokyeom to his colleague.

The two of you walk down the quiet corridor away from prying eyes. "What was that about?" you ask Mingyu, curiosity and a touch of irritation in your tone. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replies with an innocent look, though his eyes betray a hint of mischief. "Oh, please. The little show you just put on in there," you retort, not buying into his act. "You seem a bit... possessive," he smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't appreciate unnecessary distractions." Rolling your eyes, you continue down the corridor, leaving Mingyu to follow your lead. The tension between you two hangs in the air, a silent agreement that this project is going to be far from ordinary. Before you even enters his office, his hands pinned you against the wall of the hallway. Both of his hands on attached to your hips. "What the-" You didn't even finish your sentences that he smashed his lips into your glossy one. You can't help feel shocked

As Mingyu's lips press against yours, you're momentarily stunned, caught off guard by the unexpected intensity of the kiss. His actions are bold, and you find yourself torn between pushing him away and succumbing to the surprising rush of sensations. The hallway, usually a space of quick transits and business-like exchanges, transforms into a inappropriate scene

His hands, which initially held you firmly, start to explore the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. One of them groping your ass firmly making you unconsciously moan into his lips . While the other one is firmly cupping your jaw. Your initial shock evolves into a mixture of confusion and something else—a strange, electrifying connection. Both of your hands are secured in shoulder too stunned to used them. His lips start to tingle due the lipgloss you applied earlier.

Just as quickly as it began, Mingyu pulls away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and the unspoken tension lingers in the air. "What the hell was that?" you manage to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

Mingyu, usually so confident and composed, appears somewhat disheveled. A flicker of uncertainty passes through his eyes, but it's quickly replaced by his signature smirk. "Consider it a reminder, Reader. We may have to work together, but it doesn't mean I'll play nice."

Before you can respond, he steps back, leaving you against the wall, heart pounding. The quiet corridor bears witness to the unexpected encounter, and as Mingyu heads into his office, you're left grappling with a mixture of emotions, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and irritation.

You try to pluck up one's courage and enter his office, locking the door behind you, which makes his head lift with a perplexed look. Determination fuels your steps as you stride towards him, reaching out to grab him by his tie. The air in the room thickens with tension as your eyes lock onto his, silently daring him to react. As you close the distance between you two and share a heated kiss. The taste of lingering coffee and the electrifying chemistry between you both intensify the moment. The world outside that office seems to fade away as the kiss deepens, blurring the lines between rivalry and desire.

The other hand gripping the back of his neck, wanting to feel the texture of his hair. Mingyu picks you up easily as you legs secure themself around his waist. Both of his hands are grasping your asscheeks. "I hate you so much" you mutters on his lips. He chuckled making your pussy clench on nothing. "Well if you came here kissing me then you want my help do you?". You nods at his words which he didn't like it. "Use your words and tell me what you really want" Your nails are grazing the skin of the back of his neck making him shivers. "I want you to make me me cum" you said still looking at his eyes, and the corners of his lips curl into a smug smile. "You hate me so much, yet you desire me," he remarks, his hands sliding down your back, sending shivers down your spine. He puts you down on his papers scattered desks. "Why should I help you?" he teases, pulling away slightly, but your grip on his hair tightens. The scent of his cologne envelops you, adding to the intoxicating mix.

"Because," you breathe, your voice laced with frustration and need, "I can't stand the thought of you being the reason I'm left unsatisfied." Mingyu smirks, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on your waist. "You're quite the complex woman, Reader," he says, his lips dangerously close to yours. Felling his hot breath in your neck, with how close he is. "But if that's what you want, I'll make you beg for it."

Mingyu's hands trail along the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. His lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses til you right shoulder, that ignite a fire within you. Your hands tangle in his hair as you guide him,your mind conflicted between hatred and the throbbing need pulsating between your legs. The fabric of your off-shoulder dress becomes a tantalizing barrier, amplifying the heat between you.

The tension in the room intensifies as desire and rivalry intertwine, creating a palpable atmosphere. As he slowly guides the top of your dress under your tits. "No bra ? You're such a tease" You didn't had time to answer him that his hot mouth engulfed your brown aerola making you moan while his other hand firmly played with your other tit. What a view you thought to yourself, Mingyu sucking at your tits was not in your bingo card. "Most of beautiful tits I have ever seen"

Mingyu's hands, strong and demanding, explore the contours of your tits with a familiarity that surprises you. The cool surface of his desk meets your back as he lays down you effortlessly, the contrast of the polished wood against your heated skin sending a shiver through your body. His teeth grazing your nipple makes you elicits a moan, and you instinctively tighten your grip behind his neck. "Mr Kim ... please don't leave any trace." Mingyu smirks, his eyes locked onto your pleading expression. "Well, You're mine now," he asserts, pulling away from your chest to capture your lips. As his hands work to gather the fabric of your long dress around your thighs, you respond with a sigh on his lips. Attempting to assert dominance, you bite his lip, only to succumb to the overpowering sensation of his hot tongue invading your mouth. Wanting to feel him more, you spread your thighs to let him a place between them. Allow your hands to glide along his back and powerful biceps. You can't help to whimper feeling his muscles twitch under your touch. The soft hum of approval escapes his lips, when you start to rub your hands to his semi-hard. You can't help try to size up how big he is.

He grap both your wrist and pinned them down on his desk. He breaks the kiss, observing your curly hair framing your face, your eyes lost in pleasure.

He turns your around, placing you on your stomach, as your tits pressed against the desk. At this moment, he couldn't care less about the paper. The sight you present him with your ass makes his tongue glide along his lips with hunger. Flipping your dress to your waist, he's gifted with your round ass, the only barrier being your wet thong hiding your pussy. Feeling his cock growing even harder. He wish he could take a picture of how docile and how you offer yourself to him.

Cocking an arrogant grin, Mingyu leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Now, that's a delightful view, don't you think?" His hands slide sensually over your ass, teasingly grazing the edges of your thong. "I could have everything I want right now, but I enjoy seeing you squirm." You clench your fists, frustration and desire intertwining. "Don't push your luck, Mingyu."

He chuckles, the sound low and provocative. "Oh, now it's Mingyu ?" He smooths his palm on you ass and spank you just right after. Your body flinched after the impact with a whine leaving your lips. "I plan to push it as far as it can go. But for now, let's focus on what you asked for, shall we?" His fingers played with your thong as he takes it off slowly still teasing you. "I like it when you say my name" He started to caress you everywhere except your pussy, you can't help to squirm to show your frustration.

“If you want me to help you, you'll have to ask nicely," he murmurs, a devilish glint in his eyes. You can't help yourself to surrender to him, “Mingyu touch me” Pang his palm hit you ass makes you want to cry but deep down you loved the way he treated you and he knew that just by the way your pussy's lips are puffy and how your hole keep producing more wetness. He knew that you were completely aroused about this situation so was he. His hard on start to feel more painful as he continues to playfully provoke you, he takes pleasure in observing your reactions to his every move. “I said ask nicely, slut” He can even see how your hole clenched around nothing. “Please Mingyu, touch me with your fingers” You begged him desperately wanting his thick fingers inside you. “That's how you’re supposed to beg slut” One of his finger enter your pulsating walls as you twitch from the intrusion. “Who would've thought, you bend over on my desk begging me to fingering you. Everyone thought you hated me but in fact is quite the opposite. You’re just an attention whore” as Mingyu pronounces those degrading works, your velvety walls clamped even more on his fingers. “Please Mingyu- more” moaning desiring more. Fuck he can't say no to you and inserted one more fingers making you whimper again. Mingyu being drunk on your moans start to rub his confined dick to your ass. More he added fingers the more you clench on it. “Let me prep you for my cock” He picked up the pace and start to massage hastily your walls creating a mess on his hand, leaking on the carpet of his office. “Fuck I'm about to cum”.

He retract his finger rapidly not wanting to climax now “Mingyu are fucking serious I was about to -“ He cut you off by plopping you on your back. Pushed his drench fingers by your nectar in your mouth tasting yourself. The sight that Mingyu had of you almost made him cum, your hazed eyes, your tits out and your pussy drenched. He desired to be the only person granted access to this filthy sight. “Let me eat your pussy” . You nods vividly and push your thigh apart. “So obedient” he coos at you while he pushes your knees against your chest. The way your pussy was drooling on the desk makes him wanting to devour you even more. He start to flick your clit between his fingers.

“Mingyu-ah please don't tease” “Sorry baby” him growing soft for you as he approaches his mouth to your puffy pussy lips. The first time his lick make him realize that he can't get enough of your taste. He start flicking your clit with his tongue which make you squirm. He firmly locked your plush thighs with each of his hands to not letting you move. “Fuck… Gyu..” he start to lock his gaze into yours which makes you even more excited. Your fingers start to lock itself on his long dark hair, tugging them softly. He hums on your pussy creating more vibrations. You let a muffled scream surprised by his action. “Not too loud, they might hear us” slapping your inner thighs, his chin was completely wet of your juices mix with his saliva. He dived back again, eating with all of his willpower making you want to cry even more. Your climax approach faster than before as you felt wave of pleasure in your lower stomach. The slurping noise were too dirty to be heard in this professional location.

But you don't even care, too lost in how Mingyu's tongue was feasting on your pussy. “Mingyu keep going please” you cried. Motivated by your beautiful voice he start to give you even more pleasure. You close your eyes feeling the wave of your orgasm taking your body as your legs start to shake and your vision start to become white. He continued until the last drop. Too pussy drunk, Mingyu was still eating you out addicted to your sweet taste but you were starting too feel the overstimulation coming. You hands on his black strands started to pull him away from your pussy but he had too much strength so he didn't move an inch. Only giving you a devilish grin. The fact that you were half naked expoed to him and him still fully clothed made you even more vulnerable.

Your eyes start to tear up and pleading him stop but he kept going, entering his hot tongue in your hole. No one ever ate you out that way in your entire life. Feeling your heartbeat in your cunt start to accelerate.Your body start to heat up even more creating a small layer of sweat. Suddenly you felt a second wave of orgasm coming out as you push his face even more further into you trying to ride your orgasm. Mouth completely agape, no sound coming from you mouth as feel the wave throughout your body.

Finally he stop as you try to catch your breath. He gave open kisses in your inner thigh as he comes up at your level with half of his face completely covered of mix of your cum and his saliva. He reached out for your face, as you kiss him in a more tender way. Tasting the mixture in his mouth made the experiment even more intimate. If he eat pussy like this you might start falling in love with him. “Your pussy’s taste is fucking addictive” you smirked at him as he helps you to get down from the desk still holding you close to his body. You pushed him to let him set on his chair as you get down on you knees, your eyes filled with greed.

Wanting to feel his cock your start to unbuckle his belt as Mingyu smirks arrogantly and says, "Having trouble there, sweetheart?" Ignoring his arrogant remark. He's still wearing that smug expression, you manage to unbuckle his belt, maintaining your confident demeanor. Mingyu, still trying to assert his dominance, smirks and says, "You really think you can handle someone like me?" Your eyes meet his, and with a subtle laugh, you reply, "Oh, I can handle more than you think, Mr. Kim." you told him playfully using his formal title.

As you proceed, the tension between you two escalates. Mingyu, caught off guard by your boldness, finds himself in uncharted territory. The power dynamic shifts, and for the first time, he's met with someone who not only matches his arrogance but exceeds it. The air thickens with anticipation

As you take out his cock you were quite surprised by the size of it. When you felt him a few minutes ago you thought he was big big but this is fucking huge. Everything is big on him, his body, his muscles, his fucking ego and of course his fucking cock. Fuck, maybe you were too cocky. It rest hot and heavy on both of your palm. The tip was already smeared of his precum. He's definitely the biggest you ever seen. As he ravished you just a few moments you wanted to do the same to him. As you take his tip on his mouth while your hands occupied the rest of his shaft. Your start to taste his salty precum. You start to jerking him off while looking at him . One of his hand behind his head while the other on top of your head. You can't help to think that's he's even more sexy like that. Determined to make him flinch. You spit on his cock to create more lube to help you take him. You wrapped your smudged lips around him trying to take as much as you can. Bobbing your head up and down trying to find a good tempo. You graze with your tongue the underside of his cock and give extra attention to the veins on that part of his cock. "fuck" he stuttered applying more pressure on the back of your head.

Even in his most dirty dream, Mingyu has never imagined this would happens. Your round tits out of your dress, mouth full of his cock while your hands are jerking the rest off. He's trying his best to not emptying himself right now in your mouth. As you try to take him as much you can, you gagged on him when you felt his tip caressing the back of your throat. Making him groan at the sound. "You look even better with my cock deep down in your throat"

His words made your thighs rub's together. Your eyes started to cry due to the lack of oxygen, you force yourself to breath with your nose and continue your ministration on the handsome man. You mouth let go of his dick, needed to breathe. Still managing to massage his length with your hands. He take his dick with his hand and start to smear the wetness of precum on your lips. Suddenly you felt his heavy dick slapping on you right cheek indicates you to open your mouth. You opened your mouth while poking your tongue out making him smirk at your action.

He start to slap the tip of his cock on your tongue. One of you hands were playing with your folds. Abruptly he forces his dick down your throat making you gag on him. You love being full of my cock don't you?" you hums approving what he said as you look at his eyes filled with lust. "Cute " he muttered thinking you didn't hear him. He’s even more handsome like that you didn't know it was possible. As you continue to close your throat around him, you start to massage his balls to help him finish faster. He groans as he places his both hands on your neck accelerating his hips movements. Feeling the tears coming down your cheeks.

Both of your hands steadying yourself on his legs. He continue until he released a deep groan. As you felt his hot salty cum in your mouths, he said to you "you better swallow everything, you've already made a mess on my carpet" locking his hands on your neck and jaw. Most of his cum we're already down you throat but a little bit tried to spill out of your mouth. Resulting, Mingyu’s finger collecting his cum from your chin to put it back in your mouth. "filthy slut"

Grabbing you by your waist , he manhandled you back into his desk. He plopped you to your stomach as he bend you over by pushing you back even more into the wood surface. His cold fingers run to your side until your ass, he spread your ass cheeks with his hands. "You're so fucking wet" "I'm gonna take you like that cuz I don't think you'll be able taking me in missionary" he said knowingly that your ass will hide a few inches of his dick. Try to remain as confident as possible. " I can take you in missionary, Mingyu" he smirked while giving his dick a few stroke, poking his tip to you clit making you shudder. "mmh, we'll see about that"

His align himself your entrance, entering only his tip making you moan. He suddenly grab you hair and start to spit next to you "You better be quiet or I stop" you nod, too scared to not cum on his thick dick. He continue to enter you, feeling the stretch burn your tears welled up. Your tight pussy was bullied by his girth. Not wanting to make any noise you start to bite on your arm. "Fuck, relax a bit. You're squeezing me" he said massaging your hips. Mingyu felt your raw velvety walls pulsating around his dick and sensed a suffocating pressure. He kept massaging your lower back and ass helping to relax so he can penetrate even more. If he don't start to move he think he'll cum right away. "Gyu... more" as you start to beg him while moving in your hips. "you're tight as fuuccckk" He's now deep down in your guts and you can't think anymore. The only thing in your mind is his big cock. "I thought I prepped you well but you're sucking the life out of me" you felt his dick throbbing in you as you keep begging for more and more. Too lost in your own pleasure. He began to quicken the pace while groping your hips and ass. Your frustration grew as you longed to see his face and feel him beneath your touch. "Want to touch you ...Gyu…" you start to utter between the moans. The sounds you made were utterly pornographic that almost made him cum. Taking his dick smeared of your juices out of your pussy. He flipped you, being on your back. Your arms locked around his neck as your lips finally collide. Struggling with the button of his shirt, you desire to feel him even closer, you start to taking off his tie. As you grapple with the fabric, he laughs softly against your lips, eliciting a smile from you like a teenage girl. The warning echoes in your mind not to fall for him, but the soft kiss on your right cheek makes it challenging. He rises from your body, and you instruct, "Be fast; I need you right now."

As Mingyu swiftly removes his shirt, you scan him, absorbing the sight of his body. The defined, tan muscles of his upper body come into your eyes— from his broad shoulders to his well-defined chest, the subtle ridges of abdominal muscles hinting at his underlying strength. The play of shadows emphasizes every contour, making the scene more captivating. Your gaze lingers, captivated by the visual spectacle he presents. You can't help to play with yourself in front of this sight. "You're making me so wet Mingyu" " I know baby, come here" saying this while taking both of your legs on his shoulder. You grab him by the neck as you kiss him again, finally feeling the warmth that he radiates from his body to your epidermis. His hand on your neck while the other align his dick to your entrance. " Tell me if it hurts too much sweetheart" Suddenly, everything becomes more intimate, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he treats you with care, his every touch deliberate and gentle.

He enters your pussy making you hiss at the intrusion. "Fuck, you feel even more bigger" trying to grip yourself to his bulging biceps and your nails start to dig on his back. "I told you" as he start to quicken his pace. You moan start to get louder as the rhythm starts to become faster. He squeezed enough your throat to reduced your airflow making you feel even more delirious about all the sensations. It also helps to reduce your moan, which was a miracle nobody interrupted you yet. His mouth kept worshipping the rest of your body and whispering filthy words in your neck. Knowing that you'll not last longer you told him as he acknowledge it, he rubs your clit rigorously helping to reach your climax faster. He can't help himself to stare at where you're both connected to see a white ring of your cum around his cock that makes him whine. His hips start to become more sloppy as your walls clamped down on his cock. You kept chanting his name, your mind completely bathed in lust. Nails ripping off harder his back and his biceps. Him enjoying the small pain that you inflict on his skin. Feeling climax coming "Yes — fuck, I'm coming, I fucking love your dick mingyu" completely ecstatic on his dick while you felt tears coming down in your cheeks. He kissed away the tears while his hips are sloppier than ever, feeling his dick twitched inside you follow with the sensation a hot semen filling you up to the brim. His cum starting to ooze out of your pussy while he take his dick out of you, creating even more mess between your legs and the carpet underneath both of you.

He kissed you softly as he said " you're my slut now"

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Taglist: @ishireads @asyre @thepoopdokyeomtouched @mansaaay

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yunhoszn · 9 months ago

Text

motive

PAIRING choi san x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.37k

GENRES kinda fluff ig﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, friends to lovers, reader is lowkey down horrendous, but san is too i guess, um tbh this is just porn with minimal plot… 😭, reader gets jealous, Tension, i can’t think of anything else for the tame aspect so, making out, exhibitionism, soft dom!san, marking-ish, scratching, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, they’re like kinda clumsy in the way that everything is a fucking joke to them, actually a lot of kissing, san’s a sweet talker, public sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (pls be safe), creampie, cutesy ending

SUMMARY it’s annoying that your gym partner constantly gets flirted with right in front of you, especially when you have a crush on said gym partner. good thing your gym partner has a crush on you, too.

MORE HELLO oh my god okay, this is my first written fic on this blog and im actually so nervous posting it… but fuck it! we ball! this wasn’t originally the first fic i was gonna post but,,, the other one is still marinating in the drafts so you get mr. choi san instead <3 ALSO THANK U SM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HELLO. my blog is 2 weeks old that’s insanity 🤕 big thank u to the loml @kimsohn for betaing for me ilysm maya <<3 pls reblog if u enjoyed and pls moot me :( i need more atiny friends 💔

“Wow, San, you’re so strong,”

You scoff to yourself as you watch the trio of girls surround him, dainty fingers touching anywhere they can. He laughs sheepishly, shifting his seat on the weight bench. You think it’s funny, really, the fact that he was eating up their attention and acting like he was so shy about it. He was supposed to be your gym partner.

With a small grunt, you take the dumbbells in front of you and focus on your form in the mirror. You make attempt after attempt to ignore the commotion behind you, but ultimately fail. How could you not stare with all the obnoxious giggling? Even as you lunge, eyes zeroed in on the perfect 90° angle your legs make, you can still make out the group’s reflection in the mirror.

Every drag of a manicured nail along his bicep, each twirl of hair, it was pissing you off. You had no real right to be mad, though. It’s not like San was your boyfriend or anything. You were just friends, and he’d volunteered to help you out when you mentioned struggling at the gym. What started as him spotting you when needed and giving tips to help improve your workouts, turned into waiting around for him to stop flirting with the girls who flocked over to him.

Maybe you were being a bit dramatic. It’s not like this happened every time you came to the gym, but it was enough to be irritating. There was also a very high probability that it ticked you off so much because you had a crush on San yourself. Your infatuation was less superficial, however. Yes, he was an attractive man, that was one fact that couldn’t be refuted, but there was more to him than his big muscles and handsome face.

You’d known San since you met in your first year Anthropology course. This was way before he started hitting the gym and building his physique. He used to be this thin, pretty boy. Girls thought he was cute, but that was about it. No one was jumping at the chance to ask him out, or giggling at his every word. No one except for you.

He was not only cute, but he was sweet and funny and just about every good quality you could think of. You didn’t want to be one of those people who thought you were special because you knew him before his insane bodily transformation, though in a way you were. San was your good friend above anything else, and you had a fear instilled in you that that’s all he would ever be. The idea made your stomach churn.

”Do you think you could bench me?”

A sigh pushes past your lips when you see one of the girls get a little closer to him. You’re over working out at this point, ready to just call it a day and go home. What were you doing here if your partner was going to ignore you the entire time? You set the dumbbells back on their respective rack, grabbing your phone and water bottle while simultaneously turning up the volume on your headphones to drown out everything around you.

You don’t bother telling San that you’re leaving, making your way into the changing rooms to grab the rest of your things from your locker. The frown etched onto your face as you do so serves as a reminder that he would never see you in that way. Perhaps you were perpetually stuck as the girl space friend. With a giant emphasis on the space.

There’s a gentle grasp around your wrist, making you jump in surprise. You turn around with wide eyes, pushing your headphones off your ears. San stares back at you with an unreadable expression, lips slightly pursed.

”God, San, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you hold a hand to your chest, heaving up and down a little.

”I tried calling your name, but you didn’t hear me,” he shrugs, releasing your arm and shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ready to leave?”

”You looked busy.” Really, you wanted to hide the jealousy and bitterness from your tone, but ultimately failed, even throwing in an unintentional scrunch of your nose. It feels like your heart dropped to your stomach, resembling a prey caught by its predator when you realize the connotation behind your words.

San smiles at you, a smug grin that’s so out of character for him, you’re a little nervous now. He takes a step forward and you back up until you reach the lockers, one of his hands coming up to rest on the surface near your head. A small chuckle breaches the sound barrier, his eyes drinking in your figure like he might never get the opportunity to do it again. “Y/N… are you jealous?”

Instinctively, you shake your head. What he doesn’t know can’t kill him. But then he’s raising an eyebrow in question and you feel like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You blink up at him, nails digging into your palms to keep your composure. “Should I be?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, that same cocky smirk on his features. He knows what he’s doing, you think to yourself. He has you cornered and he’s using it to his advantage. The hand that isn’t holding his weight comes up to your face, fingers gliding along your jaw with a feather light touch. “No, I don’t think so. The only girl who’s attention I really care about is right where I want her.”

Your breathing stutters, halting in your throat and momentarily winding you. Choi San might very well be the death of you. Especially with that darkened look in his eyes, the chocolate brown color now resembling the night sky. His thumb swipes across your lower lip, letting it resume its original place. “What do— what do you mean by that?”

He was giving you a bone, a hint that he could potentially feel the same as you, but you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted the words to leave his mouth and verbally confirm that for you. Want wasn’t even good enough. You needed it.

“There’s no way you don’t know,” San says, voice hushed. “No way that you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you since first year.”

Something similar to a choked groan departs from you, your pulse racing in your ears, thumping beneath your chest. You’re too stunned to move, frozen in your spot in case this is all some fucked up dream. It doesn’t even occur to you that someone could walk in, doesn’t even cross your mind that you’re in too public of a setting for this conversation or where it could go.

“I don’t— I didn’t…” Your eyes attempt to stay on his, but keep flickering down to his mouth.

“It was so hard for me to play nice guy for so long,” he whispers, a pout adorning his expression. “And today? I couldn’t even stare at you shamelessly because of those damn girls. It’s so fucking annoying when they bother me while I’m trying to flirt with you. But since I’m Nice Guy San, I can’t be rude.”

“You flirt with me?” You snort, your shell shock wearing off and a goofy smile worming its way onto your face. He laughs along with you, tilting away to hide the warmth blooming on his cheeks. The tension is still present, but it’s a lot more bearable.

”I guess I’m not very good at it if you couldn’t even tell,” he glances down at his feet, the confident San from before long gone and now replaced by a bashful version. “Am I going crazy, or is this gonna go somewhere? I don’t want to misread anything and ruin what we already have. The ball is entirely in your court.”

It’s your turn to be shy, shrinking in on yourself slightly. Acknowledging that you had feelings for San was a separate can of worms. There was a big difference between him confessing to you and vice versa. You know if given the stage, you’d just start blabbering on and on about how you feel for him, and that would just be embarrassing for both of you. So instead you say, “Can I show you?”

When he nods, your fingers raise to his jaw, cupping it gently as you lean up. Your lips brush his softly, barely grazing them. His eyes flutter shut, a shiver running down his spine simply from your kiss. A pleasant buzz courses through your veins from your lips to the tips of your fingers. You’ve wanted this forever, you don’t think you could ever go back.

You pull back and San fists the fabric of your t-shirt on your waist, eyes still closed as he chases your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, can I kiss you again?”

“Please,” you whine, enveloping your lips with his as soon as you get the green light. This time is desperate, noses bumping each other. You’re going lightheaded and dizzy, already intoxicated by him. Your back presses into the lockers behind you, arching into his chest for more.

He deepens the kiss and it’s almost too much. You’re overwhelmed by the emotions taking control of you, not at all prepared for what would come with actually being with San. It had always been a distant fantasy, something that felt so completely out of reach that you didn’t dare let yourself indulge in the notion for too long. The way his lips lock with yours, fluidly and synchronously like missing pieces of a puzzle, you think you can die happily.

“As hot as it would be to fuck you right here, I’d rather not get kicked out of this gym,” he chuckles breathlessly. “And since we’re both sweaty from working out, I think we could use a shower. Don’t you?”

You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, nodding frantically at his suggestion. Though you imagined your first time with San being in a bed, slow and sensual, you’d be so stupid to complain about this. Fucking in one of the gym showers, where anyone could hear you? Go big or go home.

He scopes the area to ensure the coast is clear before hauling you into one of the stalls, dragging the curtain shut. You kiss roughly between removing articles of clothing, San turning on the water while his lips make quick work of your neck. Goosebumps form on your skin when the cool water hits it, your fingers combing through his wet hair as he sucks harsh marks into your collarbone and sternum.

“You’re so gorgeous, babe,” he mutters into your skin, nipping lightly at the tops of your tits. One of his hands travels south, sliding through your folds with ease. He rubs tight circles into your clit, prodding at your entrance with his ring finger. “I need you to cum for me once before I fuck you for real, okay?”

“Mhm,” you moan quietly, hiking one of your legs around his waist. His finger pushes inside you to the knuckle and then curls. Your eyes all but roll to the back of your head, back arching off of the tiled wall. “Feels so good, San…”

“Yeah?” He smiles against your skin, trailing pecks up your neck and along your jawline. You whimper in his ear, cunt sucking in his finger greedily. He adds a second, the middle one, and applies pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm. The sight of you falling apart by his hand alone is sending blood rushing to his brain.

Your body feels hot to the touch, risking a downwards glance at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. It forces another whine out of you, your head tossing back. You tug at the strands of hair that stick to the nape of his neck, steeling yourself the only way you can in this position. San just seemed to know you, to know exactly what you needed without you having to tell him. Either he was really good at guessing, or everything he did seemed to be perfect, because you’ve never climbed to the summit this quickly before.

There’s a knot in the pit of your stomach that weaves itself tighter and tighter with each curl of his digits and each swirl of his thumb on your clit. You think you could cry from how attentive he was, from how determined he was to provide you pleasure. Your cunt contracts around his fingers, and he can sense the precipice of your orgasm, speeding up his pace.

You squirm around in his hold, allowing him to spread apart your thighs so he can brush the pads of the digits buried inside of you up against that spongy sweet spot. You’re trembling now, nearing the edge of that familiar cliff. “San, baby, I’m— god— I’m so close,”

“Let go for me, my love.” He coos into the corner of your mouth, hushing your moans. He doesn’t slow his assault, inching you further and further towards your release like it was his own personal mission. That knot in your belly begins to unravel until it slips through your grasp completely, your orgasm rocking into you like a tidal wave.

San aids you as you ride out your high, already spent before he’s even gotten the chance to be inside of you. He kisses you tenderly, pulling out his fingers with caution since you were still so sensitive. Your nails claw down his front, scratching his abdomen with a purpose. He shudders beneath you, lips curling up into another soft smile.

“What?” You ask with a giggle, mirroring his expression when he wipes water from your face.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, grin unwavering. “You just look really pretty like this.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants, Choi San.” You tease, yanking him down for a saccharine kiss. He reciprocates without hesitation, drawing his palm on your thigh so he can wrap it around his waist again.

“Me? Never…” He laughs along your mouth. “Is it working, though?”

You roll your eyes playfully, reconnecting your lips. “Are you gonna fuck me for real now?”

“What kinda question is that?” He glides the tip of his cock between your folds, shutting you up instantaneously. He’s heavy where he sits, slipping the shaft through your lower lips. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget where you are, baby.”

Before you can even let out another sound of appreciation, he’s stretching you out, cock thrusting up into your pussy without warning. You jump up a bit to hook your other leg around his hips so he’s supporting your whole weight. The new angle makes it easier for him to delve deeper in your cunt, his dick accessing places you’d never knew existed.

After he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his length, he starts to move, pistoning in and out of you much more forcefully than he did with his fingers. Your lips part for a voluminous moan, but then you hear a group of loud girls entering the shower area and San slaps a hand over your mouth. He makes no effort to stop, fucking into you without a single care for the people on the other side of the shower curtain.

“Did any of you see where San went? He disappeared so fast.”

You recognize the voice as belonging to one of the girls who was openly flirting with San while you were working out. Not even needing to see her, you can picture the exaggerated pout on her face based on her tone alone.

“He probably followed after that stupid bitch he’s always with.”

Your half lidded eyes meet San’s but he still pays no mind to them, digging his nails into your plush thighs. He pulls all the way out, just to slam his cock all the way back in. His pace leisures, but his power doesn’t, abusing your cunt with every snap of his hips.

“I think I’m gonna ask him out next time I see him. I have to stake my claim before someone else does.”

He holds back a laugh, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You drown out their conversation after that, too focused on the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so deliciously to even worry about those idiot girls. Little did they know he was closer than they thought…

Thankfully, they leave not much longer after that, and he uncovers your mouth. You gasp for air, panting feverishly when he picks up his speed again. Your bottom lip quivers with a whine, too fucked out to conjugate words that make sense.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Taking me like a fucking princess,” San praises. He groans, water droplets slipping along the valleys of his sculpted chest and abdomen. It drips with every roll of his hips and every thrust of his cock into your pussy. This was what he had been building up to, what he’d been dreaming of for years. “Who’s fucking you like this?”

“Mmm,” you moan, supping him in deeper, further, as cavernous as humanly possible. “You, San— fuck— y-you are.”

You arch your back, sneaking a hand in the middle of the two of you and pressing the pads of your fingers harshly on your clit when you do so. San holds you closer to him so your pelvic bones nearly clash each time he punches into you. The change in depth that he fucks you has your cunt squelching, any semblance of coherent thought escaping you.

Your vision goes blank, stars decorating the backs of your eyelids as your second orgasm blindsides you. Not a sound leaves you after it knocks into you, cumming with so much force you think you might pass out in San’s arms. When you’ve finished, you let out a guttural groan, walls fluttering around his cock.

“Gonna cum— shit— where do—“ you interrupt him with a whimper.

“Cum inside of me,” your begging tone has him spilling into you practically on command. He fills you up perfectly, a moan from deep within him reaching your ears. You both stay like that for a moment, skin sticking to the other’s due to the thin sheen of sweat coupled with the steam of the shower coating your bodies.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes, one of your hands coming up to caress his back gently. He pulls out with a wince, palms resting on either side of you as he recuperates. He breathes through his nostrils, forehead glued to your shoulder. His hands rub up and down your sides soothingly.

“It’s safe to assume you’re gonna turn that girl down when she asks you out, right?” You ask suddenly, attempting to diffuse whatever’s in the air between you now. San laughs into your shoulder.

“Y/N, I’m turning down any girl who asks me out from now on,” he stands upright, biting his lip before kissing you gently. “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that very much.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Girlfriend?”

“Am I being too overzealous?” His nose scrunches up.

“You’re being the right amount of zealous, I think,” you brush away a strand of wet hair that falls into his eyes. “But I think your ‘girlfriend’ would like it if you actually asked her to be your girlfriend.”

Choi San is the prettiest man you’ve ever set your sights on, but somehow, he looks even prettier smiling down at you after having sex with you in a gym shower. It’s a feat that should be considered illegal, and you should receive restitution for the distress it’s caused on your heart.

“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

And well, maybe you’d deal with that later. It was kind of difficult to ignore that sparkle in his eyes, especially when it was directed at you. You nod without a second thought.

“I would love nothing more.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez san #ateez choi san #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san smut #yunhoszn

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hihomeghere · 7 months ago

Note

megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous.

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself.

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’.

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother.

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him.

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him.

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong.

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line.

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief.

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach.

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this.

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand.

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks.

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur #red dead redemption arthur #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr #hihomeghere #mini prompt #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john Marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston #javier escuella #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x pregnant reader #jack marston

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cherry-pop-elf · 9 months ago

Text

Realistic

George Weasley x Reader

You broke up with your ex, but said ex refuses to believe you moved on. That you found better than him. So, you figured you had to prove you did. Time to call a favor

Warnings: 18+, topics of abusive ex, satisfying revenge, ablism, oral sex (male receiving) public, choking (very light) fake dating, voyeurism, peeping Tom, Very Soft George, cuckholding? Sorta? Not really? But like maybe on a technical level?

Writing Comission’s Open

“George, pretend to be my boyfriend.” You asked, quickly. Hardly gave him a chance to even look over his shoulder, when he saw a man storming into his shop. Looking utterly pissed, and you anxious. He’s got a little sister, and plenty of brothers. As if he needed to put two and two together. His arm was quickly around your side, and he leaned into you. As if it was all natural.

“Was wondering when you would get here, Jellybean!” He announced, making your ex quickly look over to you two. His stare hardened, and George stared right back. Snearing. Keeping up a smug complexion through it all. You quickly stuffed yourself into his arm. As if trying to hide, as your ex came over. Nearly stomping in the process.

“The hell you doing with em-?Your ex demanded. “Uh…..Snuggling? Kissing? Whatever we want in MY shop-?” George would puzzle, as he was wondering where the such nerve came from. George would make sure to keep you close, with a hand on your hip, as he protected you. You would rest your head on his shoulder, and took in the comforting scent of fireworks and sugar. Helped you get grounded, as your ex was looking ready to fight.

“That’s what Im suppose to do, you fucking cripple-“ The man snapped, making you gasp. You were about to say something, but George was quick to slap a hand on your mouth. Knowing damn well what you would say next might get you slapped. As if he wanted that.

“Really? That’s your first course of action? Get creative buddy. Could have said something impressive. Like One Eared Arrogant Bastard. Like that’s creative. Just dropping heavy words like that doesn’t make you smart. Even Malfoy got creative.” George mocked, making you giggle. That was something you admired about him. His ability to go with the flow. Able to fight with words so easy.

“I-“ He tried to say something else, but George cut right in. “Do you sound smart to make up for the fact you don’t have a personality? Even Percy had more of one than you. What about that temper? Short temper isn’t the only thing short, is there?” George egged on and on. Wasn’t long before people were watching, and giggling. Leaving him red faced.

“How about-“ And the man was storming off. You couldn’t help your relief, as you relaxed into George. He seemed gone, but not entirely. You noticed he was still outside. Just far enough away from the shop to not be loitering. That made your stomach drop. Seemed you were dodging a bullet, and George was making sure there was plenty of cover.

“Guess he isn’t buying it…..Wanna help make sure he does?” He offered, as you rose a brow. At this point, you would do anything to get that bastard off your back. Was being a total creep now. Just waiting for you outside. With a nod, you gave your consent. George would soon whistle at someone, who would nod, as he was taking you towards the back.

“Let’s give him a show~” He offered, before you were pushed out of a side door. Your body hit against the neighboring building, as your lips met. You were wide eyed, until you noticed your ex peeking from around the alley way corner. Guess a show will be what it takes. Couldn’t imagine a better person to trust yourself with anyway.

You couldn’t help it either, as you melted into the kiss. Your hands fighting at his suit jacket, while he explored your mouth. Leaving your tongue to taste like sweet orange flavored candy. The scent of ash, the taste of sweet, and the feeling of heat. It was getting you more excited than you wanted to admit.

“Come on, love, on your knees.” He whispered, as he threw the jacket to the ground. Despite how rough he was acting, the fact he gave you his suit jacket for your knees spoke volumes. Even in the heat of the moment, he was trying to make sure you were given the best care. Made your heart sing, as you let your knees rest on the expensive fabric. Right all over the dirty alley way.

He was quick to take his belt off, and adjust his vest and dress shirt. Everything was moving so fast. There was such a thrill from it. A spur of the moment. Just no thoughts, only desire. Was so exciting. Gave you such a pleasure you didn’t know you could get. Weren’t even doing anything. Yet.

“Open that pretty little mouth-“ He asked, and you did. Just as he pulled his cock out from his pants, making your heart pound with excitement. You were really about to do this. You felt like you were in a wet dream. You always did find George so attractive. Never thought you would ever score a chance. Yet, it was this easy. Those Weasleys and their big hearts.

You let the tip pass your lips, and swallowed. His hand was gentle in your hair, as he let you go at your own pace. Not forcing it down your throat, and letting you take your time in adjusting. Letting you control your breathing, as your hands found his thighs. Just those deep breaths of fire works, and sugar. Was hypnotic.

Once you felt well adjusted, you forced your head further down. Your signal to let him keep going, and going he did. How he tangled his fingers in your hair, and forced you deeper down his cock. To the point your nose brushed against that ginger hair. Made you gag, by how much, but you quickly relaxed. Knowing you were in safe hands.

“Better be louder. I’m crippled, after all~” He teases, making you unable to stop the giggle around his cock. That earned you a moan from him, as the vibrations ran up through his body. God did his moans sound like sweet music to your ears. It gave you the motivation to try and take lead a little bit. Pulling yourself to the tip, and moaning around it.

He was soon leaning against the wall of his shop, as he was at your mercy now. His free hand busy with keeping his vest and shirt up. Exposing that slender stomach. Happy trail, freckles, and ink. Such a dashing man, with many scars. You were the lucky one to get to see it. See it all. Like how his face was flushing, and his kept hair ruffling. It was addictive.

Up and down you bobbed, as you kept your grip tight on his slender thighs. Not quite as meaty as his upper arms, given his beater history. Still was great to grab, as you milked him for more sounds. Such as the hisses, and whimpers when you ran your tongue over a vein just right. Oh you didn’t know who was in more heaven.

“Fuck, Im going to cum. Oh fuck-“ He gritted his teeth, and made an attempt to pull you off. How considerate. You figured that kind gesture deserved a reward. So, you fought against his hand. That surprised him, as you would force yourself deep down again. Moaning, as you returned to his base. Looking right up at him, and locking with those pretty doe eyes. That was the last straw.

He let his head roll back, as he came down your throat. You coughed, but you were handling it like a champ. Using those thighs for support, as you watched his stomach spasm from the pleasure you gave him. How those pretty cheeks were so flushed, and his ear so red. Oh what you would give to see more of that.

Once he was breathing steady, you finally pulled off. You panted, as he cupped your cheek. His thumb rubbing away at the spit that ran down your chin. You didn’t know if your ex was still there, and genuinely didn’t care anymore. The tender moment was to sweet to make you think about anything else.

“Say….Think maybe we can do this again some time? Gotta keep up appearances and all~” He winked, as it was your turn to be blushing. All flustered, as he would put himself away. Along with being a gentlemen, and helping you off the ground. With his jacket as well.

With a quick spell, the jacket was clean. Just some tidying up, as you were still a soft pink. Same for himself. A stupid grin on his face was keeping you flushed as well. Especially with the arm hooked around you, as you returned inside. Having to keep up appearances after all. Just for appearances.

“My lunch break should be soon, wouldn’t mind some drinks with you. Gotta wash that down after all.” He offered, making you elbow his delicate rib. He wheezed, but laughed. Yeah. Maybe this fake dating thing will really put your ex in his place. Severs him right for losing such a catch like you. Least George was the lucky one to nab you, wasn’t he?

@george-weasleys-girl

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dotster001 · 10 months ago

Text

When You Escape Him; Ignihyde

Summary: Yandere Idia x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

A/N: okay, here's the thing. I know technically Ortho is one of the first year crew now, and thus, he is technically as old as we are. However, in my head he has been ten years old for so long that it's hard for me to see him that way. I tried to think of a way this could work platonically, and I came up with nothing for this prompt. So no Ortho for this one. Sorry friends 🤷🏼‍♀️ also, I know this is not an 18+ blog, so some of you are minors, in which case, I am not judging you for liking Ortho, if that is the case. I'm just saying it's a no for me.

CW: tranquilizer darts, minor character death, yandere stuff

Other Parts: Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

You couldn't help but be…. suspicious. Idia had only grown smarter, and more creative over the years, which made you wonder…did Idia build your son? Flaming blue hair wasn't common.

But he aged normally. So he couldn't be an Idia creation. So maybe it really was a coincidence?

Not something you could worry about right now as the two of you hid from S.T.Y.X robots.

The fact that you'd made it a year was pretty good, if you were being honest. You didn't have clearance to leave the Isle of Woe, but a scorned ex employee of Idia’s had let you stay hidden in his home. He didn't even make you pay rent because, in his words, keeping that pretentious bastard's favorite things away from him was payment enough. Aside from that little spiel, he was a sweet guy. Which is probably why he was fired.

But someone must have ratted you both out. You'd heard a shot downstairs, followed by his pained groan. A groan that was only as loud as it was for the sole purpose of alerting someone hiding upstairs.

You were hiding under the bed, with your son. The man had lined the beds with materials the S.T.Y.X bots couldn't scan through. You didn't have much faith though. Not that you had a plan if you did manage to hide from the bots. Either way, this was probably game over for you.

But you'd rather game over didn't come from Idia.

You stayed quiet under the bed, as you heard the bots start wrecking rooms. One particularly loud crash woke the baby. You hurriedly rushed to calm him, but he started crying. You couldn't blame a kid for being a kid.

Bots rushed to your room, and threw the bed you were hiding under across the room. They all pointed their tranquilizers at you, as one of the bots stomachs displayed Idia’s visage.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please come home,” he cried. You didn't even know how to respond to that. You would have thought he'd be angry, but that would have been out of character for him.

“I know, I'm the absolute worst, but I'll be better for you! Please don't keep my son from me!”

Bargaining. Nice.

“I'll let you go outside for an hour a day. I'll buy you whatever you want. Please, please,please, please, please.”

“Oh my God! Idia! What I want is fucking freedom!” You snapped as you continued to try and calm the boy.

“I…I can't…”

“Yes you can!”

“I need you!”

“Well I don't want you!”

His eyes widened for a moment, completely taken aback. Then they narrowed, as he bit his lip in disdain.

“Fine.”

One of the bots hit you with a tranquilizer dart. You cried out, but were quickly distracted from the pain as a bot took your son from your quickly numbing arms.

“No,” you groaned, reaching out as quickly as your body would let you, which was not very fast.

Your eyesight was darkening as the bots began to leave the room, leaving you alone with the bot projecting Idia.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your vision faded as you were left alone in the room, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia shroud x reader

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yazmarina · 3 months ago

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super trouper

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"part of a success that never ends, still i'm thinking about you only " (super trouper by abba)

charles leclerc (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: exes to ?, hint of second chance romance

a/n: short and sweet on my return. i hope all the charles girlies and non-girlies like this <3

You really shouldn't be here. You had no reason to turn up at this race weekend, save for the fact that your friend was also going and she urged you to go for her sake.

Right. You're doing this for her. No one else. Certainly not for the hometown hero.

His face is everywhere and so are the eyes that seem to gape at you. People's eyes follow you with curiosity, double takes and soft gasps when they realize who you are.

It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes under the heat of their stares. Are they not aware that I live literally a bus ride away? I spend half of my time in Monaco, anyway. Why is everyone freaked out that I'm here?

You can already read the gossip headlines in your mind.

"Do you want to grab some lunch first?" Your friend asks, gesturing to the huge hospitality building that overlooked the pitlane.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be indoors and away from prying eyes. "Sure."

The two of you make your way inside and you're relieved to see that people are sparse here, not a single one of them giving you any mind. You settle in a booth at the very end of the floor, letting your friend have a go first at the buffet of food laid out.

You idle with your phone for a bit, already seeing your inbox count tick upward. You've been here for an hour and it seems as if the whole paddock has already seen you.

You lock your phone in frustration.

You really shouldn't have come. Not when the breakup barely six months ago was shrouded in so much speculation and drama. It's not as if your relationship with Charles exploded into a world-stopping mess. It just slowly but surely crumbled, all the gossip chipping away at the love you once shared. You know all this was part of it—the dedicated pages to scrutinizing you, your looks, your behavior, the news about you and your ex still coming out half a year after you split, the constant barrage of questions about Charles, Charles, always about Charles.

But it was indeed always about Charles.

Even you being here, in Monte Carlo today, was about him.

You promised you'd see him race at home when you were still together. It wasn't your fault the relationship would be that short-lived.

But, still. You promised.

You unlock your phone once more, opening up the message thread you had with Charles. The last text was from him, asking if you'd be in France this week. You never answered back.

'Hi Charles.'

You cringe at the formality but with a deep breath, you continue to type.

'Yes, I'm still here. I'll be watching today with a friend. Wishing you all the luck :)'

The grip you had on your seat could have been enough to crush someone's hand.

The wide-screen TV in hospitality flashed the bright red Ferrari of your ex-boyfriend, leading the race, five laps away from victory. A victory at his home race, with his dream team, his people cheering him on.

Your heart hammers against your chest and you feel rigid all over, nerves and anticipation taking ahold of you. Your friend looks over and you meet her eyes, and you know at that moment what she's thinking. She smiles, reaching for your hand, and squeezes.

Regardless of what became of you and Charles, it's hard not to feel as if this was your dream too. All the late nights and missed dates and the pain and scrutiny were for this. For him to achieve this very dream.

You feel tears start to well in your eyes as Charles enters his final lap. The people around you are already jumping out of their seats, egging him on, closer and closer to the chequered flag.

As Charles drives past the finish line, the whole world seems to erupt in cheers but it's all tuned out as your tears start to finally fall. You don't notice the gentle shake of your shoulders as hundreds of emotions crash down on you.

You let your friend pull you into a hug, hiding your tear-streaked face from the world.

The podium celebrations right after didn't help much with your attempt at keeping a casual, level-headed facade. Your nose is stuffy and you haven't stopped crying since the race ended. The slow recognition from the people around you isn't lost on you, either.

But it's hard to care when Charles stands on the top step of the podium, beaming as his national anthem blares. It's more difficult yet, fighting the urge to run to wherever he is just so you could jump into his arms and tell him how proud of him you are, how much you miss him, how much you still love him.

Instead, you turn to your friend, hicupping through your tears as you ask if they can come with you back to the paddock.

"You're here."

You smile sheepishly as Charles stops just as he's about to enter the Ferrari motorhome. The calls of his name and murmur from the fans around you tailing him through the paddock are drowned out, your whole body seemingly rooted in place as the familiar green eyes look into yours.

"Yes," you respond plainly, suddenly at a loss for words. Clearing your throat, you step closer and Charles automatically opens his arms for a hug.

"Congratulations, Cha," you say, voice muffled into his shoulder as he pulls you against his chest.

"Thank you." Charles beams at you as he pulls away. The smell of champagne is still strong on him but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing more than for everyone to disappear so you could share even a fraction of a moment with him. Just him.

"Did you cry, mon cœur?" Charles asks, looking at you closely. Your jaw drops open at his use of your old pet name and he, too, pauses and blinks as he realizes what he's done.

Charles laughs, a hint of nervousness in his voice, and you can't help but giggle along. It's awkward and it's not ideal, but being this close to him brings a certain ache in your heart, more sweet than painful.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Charles declares, gently taking hold of your arm. "Promise. I'll see you."

You nod, smiling up at him. Tears prickle in your eyes again and you quickly blink them away, mortified at what everyone would think about you crying in front of your ex after his home race win.

Charles leans in and delivers a peck on your cheek, quickly rubbing your back before turning to finally enter the motorhome. He gives you one last wave before disappearing behind the glass doors.

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader

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ereawrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hey gurl✨ I’m in my wife era rn so maybe some Shisui and/or Tobirama husband/jealous husband hcs?🫣 I loooovee your writing and tbh your thoughts are my thoughts so no pressure😩 If you not feeling it feel free to ignore me babe🧚🏻‍♀️

YOU HAVE FED ME SO GOOD MISS GIRL! under the cut for length

shisui

this isn't too relevant but I have to include it. it's too cute. I definitely see shisui getting married pretty young, like early 20s. if he finds his person he's going for it. probably gets a lot of shit for it from his family, but he doesn't care

loooong honeymoon period. in part because they're still a young couple but also... shisui is just a really devoted husband. he loves the married life. insists on kissing her goodbye every morning, eating together every night, stuff like that

LOVES DECORATING THEIR HOUSE are u kidding me. let's say they get a kinda shitty place right after they get married, and put a tonne of work into doing it up. he gets so into painting, building the furniture, even starts up a little herb garden in their kitchen

finds so many ways to drop his wife into conversation lol. he's down bad even after the honeymoon period ends, so he wants to show her off. his FAV is when she swings by his workplace to bring him his 'forgotten' lunch. he turns around to the rest of the guys like. yeah. that's my WIFE. isn't she hot.

very much a believer in keeping the romance alive. he wants to keep making the effort with her until the day he dies. veryyyy good at remembering anniversaries, scheduling regular date nights, etc. always makes sure she has fresh flowers in the house

obviously it isn't all perfect though. especially while they're young (and presumably both still active, high-ranking shinobi) their schedules keep them apart a lot. and this hits shisui really hard tbh. he hates coming back to an empty home after a long mission, knowing he might not even see his wife before he has to leave again

work is probably where most of their arguments stem from, actually. I don't see it being a regular thing, but it's easy for resentment to build in those kinds of situations. shisui is very torn between his love for his village, and his love for his wife, and the fact he can't prioritise both. thankfully shisui is a good communicator so they make things work.

in terms of jealousy... I don't see it being a common thing. maybe before they get married he tends towards it a bit more, but once she's his wife, why would he worry? she's his entire world and he knows she loves him just as much

the only way I rly see him getting jealous at all is if they're going through a bit of a rough patch for the reasons mentioned above. maybe they haven't seen each other in weeks, and they both get back from a mission on the same day. and there's some kind of event/function that evening that they have to attend

so they barely have a chance to acknowledge each other, before they're pulled apart again by the crowd. so if shisui sees some random guy getting a little too close and flirty with her, he gets more annoyed than he'd like to admit

even then though.. he's not necessarily jealous as much as he is upset. like goddamn just let this poor man have his beloved wife to himself for a night. in this situation he's more likely to behave more rashly than usual, and he might just make some excuses and take her home lol. he gets a little bit pouty until she gives him some attention

overall, though, he's very chill. he trusts her implicitly, and expects the same from her. they need to have a very honest, respectful relationship if he's going to wife her up

god okay and in old age they're so cute together. I bet they have a bunch of kids (probably accidentally tbh lol) so then they end up with a whole squadron of grandchildren. he's that fun grandpa who sneaks them sweets when the parents aren't looking. all the grandbabies want to sleep over at their house. and they LOVE it.

to sum up: very good husband. very relaxed, communicates well, makes her feel loved every day. why did he have to die I want to throw myself off a bridge.

tobirama

first of all. good job to this woman. wrangling tobirama into marriage is not an easy job. he's so fucking ANNOYING. it probably takes him years to confess he even has feelings for her, let alone ask for her hand in marriage

but once he gets there. it's pretty cute. he doesn't really act very differently for the most part - he'd already decided his heart belonged to her well before they married, and wholly committed. so his behaviour doesn't change much, and there isn't much of a honeymoon period. sorry. he's like marriage is just a contractual agreement why would it change anything between us

he does make a few little indulgences though. he gets this smug little look every time he introduces her as his wife. he's actually just a lot more prone to 'showing her off' in general, and more likely to show some physical affection in public. for tobirama that's maybe a peck on the cheek lol. but it's progress

he's definitely a lot.... gentler?idk. with her once they're married as well. he makes an effort to be more patient and less snippy, and shows his appreciation for her in a lot of quiet little ways. for example, he'll be sure to leave work on time no matter how busy it is if he knows she's putting a lot of effort into dinner that night. or if she spends a second too long looking at a new dress in the store, he's buying it for her

on that note. tobirama is such a provider once they're married. he does have that traditional idea of providing for his wife. he'll probably ask her if she wants to become a stay at home wife tbh. if she says yes, he still expects her to get out in the community of course. he'd love if she did volunteering work, maybe at the hospital or with kids or something. but he's also equally happy for her to keep working. power couple vibes very strong

they have a nice, quiet little house away from the village where no one bothers then and they loooove it. especially tobirama, his wife and their home are his sanctuary. everyone else gtfo

other than that, not much is really different from before their marriage. they probably actually lead quite independent lives, to the point where people don't even know they're married until tobirama drops it into conversation a few months later. they're very private and lowkey.

unfortunately for her, tobirama's paranoia also persists. he's a bit delulu sometimes lol and she knows this going in. but it does inevitably cause some issues, especially if she's headstrong (which is definitely the type of woman he ends up with)

he trusts his wife more than anything. he would never doubt her for a second. but other men? the enemy. not to be trusted. they're all dogs. it drives him absolutely batshit crazy to watch them ogling her, or god forbid trying to flirt with her. which is actually kinda common bc they're such a lowkey couple, so people assume she's single

tobirama isn't one to make a scene per se, but this definitely leads to a few awkward situations in public, and she probably ends up embarrassed a few times. and there's 10000% arguments behind closed doors. I don't see either of them being good with this lol. he acts like she's his political enemy he's ridiculous

but because he loves her so much, and he actually really wants to put work into the longevity of their marriage, he'll come around. he's a lot softer and more willing to compromise when it comes to her. but she can't point that out because he's mortified

over time, he chills out a lot more. they're one of those couples that just get stronger and better with time. they grow a lot together, and although they probably continue to disagree a lot throughout their marriage, it's always in a way that leaves their relationship stronger. and he only gets softer for her. people (hashirama) even start to point out how devoted he is and he can't even deny it. cute

overall a kind of difficult husband, because he is an exceptionally difficult man, but my god he loves her so much. he would do anything to make her happy.

#this was so much fun #I HAVE TWO RING FINGERS MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS #naruto #naruto x reader #shisui #shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #shisui uchiha x reader #tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

arepas

javier peña x f!reader

summary: when you’re single, it’s complicated. messy. he can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him.

an: dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing @halfmoth-halfman - i told you that i'd write you something, and here it is. I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile. word count: 9.3k (sorry, not sorry) warnings: developing feelings, slow burn -> colleagues to friends to lovers. usual jo angst, but with lots of banter. fingering, p in v, angst, sweet ending, spoilers for narcos season two.

friend noun /frɛnd/ a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. "she's a friend of mine."

It starts in Bogotá.

His eyes rake over you—the new pretty secretary who won't meet his eyes as though you’d heard all about him.

It's why he waits. Biding his time before gracing your desk. A file in hand, leaning down—forcing your eyes to meet his. Javi's smirk almost eclipses his face, only doing so when you lift your chin and he finds your lips have slid so far up one side as you stare at his hand.

Agent Pe— I know who you are, Peña. Your reputation precedes you. Good things, I hope? Depends on who you ask.

You call him Peña all the time. Even as days slip into weeks, even if he insists you call him Javier or Javi. The tension building, thickening—just like a dish left on a hob.

He’s used to the whispers, but he’s not used to the ignorance. The way you don’t look at him like the others, instead always trying to find out what he needs from you, rather than what he wants.

It allows him the chance to study, to watch. Noticing the way you work, the way you converse easily with others and how you walk around the office like you barely notice him.

It wasn’t through a lack of trying why he hadn’t worsened his reputation. It wasn’t fear of fucking you, of muddying his place of work further—his focus, mission, objective wasn’t to keep the piece inside crumbling Colombian walls. It was more that the fact his usual tactics weren’t working even when his intention was there, clear as the sky on a sunny morning.

You seemed stressed. Aren’t we all, Peña? I know how to get around that… I’ve heard.

It’s not that your tongue is quick or icy—it’s that you do it all without looking at him. You bite back without lifting your eyes or turning to him when he stands beside you. An indifference he had usually woven under in the time you’ve been here, but finding troublesome with you.

So, he tries smiling when smoke swirls around the ceiling fan, and you drop a file off; he drops his voice when he bumps into you by the water machine, holding your sight—commanding it. Which is why he notices the irritation simmering in yours. Growing, and grating more so by his mere breath, never mind his words.

You don’t like me much. I don’t know you. You could. Know me. What would be the point, Peña? You don’t listen, you interrupt everyone, you fuck everything with a pulse— Tell me how you really feel, hermosa. I’m trying, but once again, you’re only half listening.

Determined—that’s how he was often described.

It was, for this reason, that he has poured so many of his years into catching Escobar. Why he’d looked for whores to get information, not banking on caring and emotions. It’s why he hadn’t looked for anything outside of a quick fuck, a friend, or a sense of belonging—he didn’t have another ounce left in him. It was all spent on the reason he was here: narcos.

There had been others, naturally. Not all bent to his charm, even if the majority did. He should add you to the list, to the small pile that had amassed through the building and beyond.

Javi doesn’t.

And it doesn’t get better, easier. You decline his invites for drinks, even if you do begin to aid him. You refuse grabbing food for lunch with him, even if you have started taking paperwork off him to type up. You’ve even begun making comments, funny ones about his typing abilities, even shooting him a smile as you travel back to your desk. Yet, you don’t even let him drive you home when your car isn’t working.

Purposefully, you’re a bag of mixed messages. Not because you decline him but because he cannot find a rational reason as to why. You’ve begun moving his paperwork up, but you flirt back. Flimsy, thin excuses find your tongue quicker when he invites you to drinks, not even just with him.

You’re confusing. A brand of difficult he hadn’t had the opportunity to circle before, something which bothers the shit out of him.

Which is why he’s coating his throat in whiskey—getting through his pack of Marlboro’s quicker than he usually would be in a bar like this.

Because, while he doesn’t get you, he hates work functions more. Despising with each growing minute that he’s at one.

He prefers to choose his company—paid or unpaid. And the sole reason he’d even gone in the first place was to get you to stop calling him Peña—and to keep the CIA away from you.

He ends up being successful at one of those things. It’s not that he wasn’t sure how to befriend women, just that he usually chooses not to. He ruins any possibility of it by turning on the charm, having their blouse in his fingers and his hand stuffed in their lace. Even for all his charm, it is hard to get them back on his side when he doesn’t call them, or mistakenly calls out the wrong name or avoids them.

It’s why he knows his name is dirt amongst several secretaries. He’s aware of how gossip spreads like wildfire amongst the secretaries, receptionists, file room assistants, watching it happen as their eyes glisten when he walks past, their whispers dropping an octave when he is within ears reach.

You don’t partake in it. Digging your pretty eyes into him rather than fluttering your eyelashes. You can put those puppy-dog eyes away, Peña. I’m immune to putas. You can wait like everyone else. Chin lifting at the last second, smothering him in stifled stress and a please-don't-push-me-look. It’s how he learnt you were going for drinks with the CIA, how he discovered the bar and time.

Why he went in the first place.

It crossed his mind this could be the night. He could keep you company, find a way in when your wall was down because of the liquor on your tongue. The moment fizzled when he chose to be a gentleman—helping you into his car, guiding you into your place. Even holding your hair back as you vomited the contents of your stomach out. Maybe he should have warned you about doing shots with Jacoby in the first place, but then, he wouldn’t be alone with you.

See the way you put your weapons down and looked at him pitifully when you couldn’t get the key in your door.

I’ve got you, Bonita. Bet you say—hiccup—that to all the whores. You’re not a whore. No. No, I’m not.

He’d expected you to push him, fight him once inside your place, but you were silent. Occasionally frowning with glossed-over eyes as he continued to help you. You even allow him to help you to bed—without so much as removing his clothes. He’d been almost out of your bedroom door when he heard it:

Still gonna call you Peña, Peña. I know, bonita. There’s a glass of water on your table.

It played on his mind.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be chivalrous, just that it was rare. Stuffed down into his tight jeans and under layers of Colombian grief. While he cares about the people in his life, even the ones at arms reach—the ones he pays and the ones he takes home from a hard day—he doesn’t show it. Keeping it tightly wrapped and away, not willing to let simple and futile emotions blur the lines of why he was here.

So it surprises him when you leave him a thank you.

A small note on his desk attached to a bottle containing amber and a large packet of Marlboros.

Still think you’re an asshole, Peña.

It was the worst thank you note he’s ever had, yet it made him smile. Unthreads annoyances of his day, sewing in a piece of niceness in a tapestry of shit.

What he did know is that the window of sleeping with you was growing smaller, only fully shutting on him when he uncapped the bottle and poured you a glass when you knocked on his door for his signature. The small office he resided in—all dark, simmering with disappointment and failure after another dead end. Not that you commented on it—even if your eyes narrowed and your lips spread thin.

You were polite like that. Didn’t call into question or hold a mirror up to him. Just let him be. Tapping your glass against his, his eyes watching as you take a sip—not hissing, not flinching as the taste slides down your throat. Not even when it collects somewhere in your stomach. If anything, you smile.

Running his hand along his chin, letting his eyes roam as you take in the walls—the files. Your glass teetering on your bottom lip, painted in a shade he wanted staining on various parts of his body—

“Surprised you’re having a drink with me, Peña,” you say, all airy and light—glancing over your shoulder, shining him in mischievous twinkles. “Especially when you could be… paying for better company.”

He snorts at that, lets a laugh escape—puncture the air. “You know, you bring it up so often, bonita. I’m beginning to think you’re jealous.”

“Not in the slightest—I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Two night stands?” He muses.

And you smirk. Gloriously. Wide and large, the closest he’s gotten you to smile. “If it’s good enough to go back again, why stop at twice?”

He struggles for a retort, the acidic nature of it being swallowed by whiskey as he raises his glass to his lips.

Then it shifts the conversation. Returns to normal, safer topics, finding he snorts a few more times as the drinks flow. Even finding you pull a rich laugh from him—one that erases some of the tension, unknots his shoulders from his ears.

It isn’t until he hears the sweetness of your laugh that he finds that a quarter of the bottle has gone. The paper you’d come in to have signed, still at the top of a forgotten pile.

You weren't looking, having already turned your back to him, eyes fixed on the wall—the little pins and photos. Allowing him to run his eyes along your back, to your clothe-covered hips and the curves that had been front and centre of his thoughts when he fucked his fist. Your name has been simmering on his tongue for weeks, since you’d been introduced.

Something stopping him from acting on his thoughts, from standing up and coming up behind you. That very thing being the foundation of what he’d been after from the start.

“Am I still an asshole, bonita?” He asks when he finally signs the sheet.

You take the paper, offering a softer smile with a head tilt. “We should drink in your office again. You’re less of one in here, Javi.”

“It’s cheaper.” “Cheaper?” You groan, and he slides his hand over his face to hide his smile. “Fine, Peña—“ “Javi. Come on, bonita. We made progress.” Glaring, you straighten your spine. “Javi, I wanna eat greasy food in a baggy t-shirt and watch shit TV that I can only partially keep up with. Do you want to do that with me?” How could he say no? “Do I have to eat greasy food?” “Yes. It’s the law.” Snorting, he picks up the file, tapping the end of your desk. “I’ll be there around nine.”

You’re everywhere.

He begins finding you at his favourite food stand, conversing with the owner, grin so large it hits your eyes. Another time, you’re at the shop on the corner near his place, brown bag in hand, a knowing nod sent his way when you pass.

It throws him off, continuing to do so until it changes, and he comes to expect you. Doesn’t brace or freeze, but welcomes you. Leaning into it that you’re there, everywhere he doesn’t expect you to be. Slowly, bleeding across his life, planting yourself in the soil he hadn’t known surrounded him.

Your name falls from his lips with simplicity, you call him Javi as though it’s all you’ve ever called him.

Things shifting, changing just like the temperature in Bogotá. He chooses to sit beside you when he spots you at the bar, and not close to the table who were giggling and whispering at his arrival. He opts to ask you for help, over the secretary who has been giving him heart-shaped eyes since she heard something or another.

Javi is smart, and isn't an idiot. He knows it has shifted. Changed.

For the better, he isn’t entirely sure.

He finds comfort in you in a way he doesn’t usually pay for. The desire to fuck you because you were attractive lessening, and rather because, on some level, he suspected he actually liked you. Especially when you invited him for drinks at yours, instead of a bar.

It was easier not to question it. To not change. To not ask and ruin it. He went round to yours, or you to his. A gap forming, welcomed and strong. Javi fucked who he wanted to fuck, and sought companionship (fully clothed, a glass of liquor variation in hand) from you. The contents of it shifted depending entirely on the situation. Sometimes, it was accompanied by home-cooked food, and sometimes he brought warm trays in a bag that you groaned in appreciation upon arrival.

Javi told himself you reminded him of Laredo. Of high-school friends and easy laughter. You reminded him of girls who never became more than friends, the ones he’d grown apart from when they settled and married, and he ran as far away as possible.

That and he just liked your company. You made it easy. You were his… Friend.

You were something different than what he had with Carillo. Something other than the partnership he was now bedding in with Murphy.

You had embedded yourself as much in work as you were out of it. As time ticked on, his brain slowly filled with useless information about likes and dislikes in a drawer in his mind, he marked just for you. They weren’t things he usually didn’t care to know about anyone. Not since he’d been in Colombia. Not since he’d been in Laredo, where he’d never been short of a friend to two.

Being your friend became a thing he suddenly wanted to cling to. Not wanting to lose it—lose you, not wanting to fuck it up.

So, he didn’t.

Even if you looked at him with pretty eyes, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip. Even if sometimes the silenced humming with something different, something less friendly.

He cared.

Really cared. He found himself annoyed if you seemed a little off, and found himself wanting to make you smile. The two of you spread past the line into an area out of his usual wheelhouse. Friendship. A relationship that had him around your place so many nights a week, tucking into spirits and beer you’d begun keeping just for him. It was normal. Nice.

Or it was, until you curled into one side of the sofa, him on the other. Your foot isn’t close to his thigh, no leg draped over his—your behaviour not like normal.

He’d put it down to another shit date. One he’d been tortured with hearing about—the only downside to the arrangement, the friendship.

But, as you wrap your fingers around your calf, he realises it isn’t the date, the bad food or the day.

“Being your friend is kinda hard.”

Frowning, he sits up a little more. “Why?”

You shrug. He doesn’t like it when you do. You have answers, usually quick ones. A shrug meaning you don’t or you’re afraid of speaking them—letting them ball and fester in your throat.

“‘Cause you do thoughtful shit, and it makes me think things.”

He bites his smirk, and savours it. Knowing and understanding more than he can acknowledge as he folds his arms. “Not a smart move, thinking about me, hermosa.”

“Don’t I know it.”

"Bonita...."

"Why'd you call me that?"

You don't ask it rudely, more questionably. Brows knitting together in confusion as you watch him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not in the slightest."

He smirks, letting out a sharp laugh. "Go get another drink, bonita."

“So, the two of you haven’t… you know?” Leaning in the chair, he stares at him. “No. We haven’t.” “I don’t believe you?” Smirking, he shifts his hips. “Go ask her. She’ll say the same.” He snorts. “You’re telling me you go round her place, have fun, laugh, and leave—I don’t believe it.” “Believe it, Murphy.”

It’s hard not to call back to the words spoken that night.

Let them loop around and around, wrap themselves around other phrases—micro-expressions and bothersome avoidance.

Your eyes were dark, chin resting on your knee, looking at him as though you wanted to burn everything to the ground. He’d swallowed, and hesitated—two things he never did.

But with you, he wasn’t exactly himself.

You had found a way to unlock a part of him he kept away from everyone else. He was still an asshole, still selfish and cocky. But he also bit back more around you and found ways to annoy you playfully, rather than to piss you off.

“Here.”

“You bought me a book?”

He smirks, gripping his arms as he watches you turn it over, “You like reading.”

Smirking, you scan the blurb, your brain trying to translate it quickly. “What gave you that impression?”

Shrugging, he trails a finger across his bottom lip. The signature smirk started growing, spreading, eclipsing whatever was there previously.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hermosa. I see you reading on your lunch.” He looks you up and down. “Thought you could do with some fresh material.”

“So you bought me a romance book.”

Dropping his arms, he rolls his lips. “Everyone needs a little romance in their life, don’t they?”

“Well, you’re the expert. I hear you’ve been getting some “romance” nightly,” you smirk, placing the book down.

He had.

Almost determined to do so. Needing to bury himself to the hilt in others to distract him from you. Secretly thinking of you, trying to imagine the way your skin would feel under his calloused palms.

“Jealous, bonita?”

Smiling, you tilt your head. “Why? I’ve got a romance book.”

He tries to tell himself he’s not affected by you.

That it’s protectiveness why he sits at the bar in the restaurant you’re in. Why he chooses a seat where he can see the reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, able to see you without watching you.

He tells himself it’s to ensure you’re okay. Nothing else. The convincing goes well until your finger taps him on the shoulder, practically dragging him outside by his elbow.

The cooler temperature bites his skin, but your eyes full of fire keep him warm. Digging into him, inflicting flames that lick at muscle and bone.

“Why are you here, Peña?”

He masks a shudder. “Don’t… don’t call me, Peña—“

“—you fucked all the whores?”

“I was drinking.”

Raising your brow, you fold your arms. “You’re ruining my date.”

He lets his eyes drop. Knowing he is. He knew he would when he scrunched the piece of paper in his hand as he overheard you talking about some black dress and little heels for it.

The same ones you’re standing in front of him in, looking nothing short of radiant—the slightest shiver misting over you.

“You deserve better.”

Folding your arms, you sigh. “What, like you?”

He runs a hand over his chin, leaning against the wall. “No, bonita. Better than me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, the shiver more obvious. So much so, he removes his jacket, considering draping it over you, but instead hands it to you.

“Look, I know I ruined your date, but he’s an asshole.”

Swallowing, you let out a heavy breath. “I’m mad at you, but… he really is awful.”

He smothers his relief. Ensures his tone is normal as he murmurs, “Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Can you… could y—“

“Go get your bag, hermosa.”

It’s quiet, the car ride.

Your knee nervously bounces, the fabric of your dress rising up your thigh as you do.

He’s being tested. He’s sure of it. Adamantly so when he pulls up outside yours, and you invite him in. It’s confirmed when you tell him to help himself while you change, stepping into your room.

A version of him wanting to follow. To place his hand on the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin up, kissing the name of your date tonight. Pulling your body close, making it forget it ever shivered from anything less than pleasure.

He thinks about it as he fills his glass, and keeps yours empty. Javi thinks it as his jeans become tight and his pulse quickens, wondering if you sprayed your perfume anywhere other than your neck and wrist—whether you’d taste as sweetly as you say his name. Whether you’d dig your nails in when he stuffed you full of him—

“Not pouring me one?”

Blinking, you’re in his T-shirt and some leggings.

The former is something you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on your blouse. A band tee, one from a concert when he was younger and happier, and less confused what the fuck all of this meant.

He hadn’t realised how much he had been holding himself back until you sank onto your sofa, looking serious—brows and forehead creasing.

It made him want to nurse it out of you, find a solution to stop you from worrying or overthinking.

“You’ve never tried to sleep with me.”

He scoffs, loud and undignified. The sentence catches and cuts through the air. All the letters of it punctuated by a thin silence, lightly chopped—not allowing interjection or regret.

You're waiting.

Nervously. Plucking your bottom lip between your white teeth like you’re picking guitar strings.

He considers telling you the truth. That fucking you had been the sole and only intention for a long time. Seeing if you could bend in two, what noises you would make—see if he could get you to chant his name.

That had been his goal… until it wasn’t.

Javi drains his glass, knowing you’re astute. That you work with agents of all kinds—you hold your fucking own around all sorts of them. So you know (of course you know) when someone is lying—so he offers something else entirely.

A slither of truth, an offering of it—if that.

“Didn’t wanna fuck this up, bonita.”

You take a sip of your own, not smiling, not smirking. Silence thumps between the two of you as you likely process the information, both in word form and in heavy silence. Then you land your eyes on him, something blossoming in them, spreading and taking over as they seemingly darken like the sky before a storm.

“That because you don’t think you could make me come, Peña?”

He spreads his palm against his jeans, resting the glass against his other as he drags his eyes to the floor. Biting the inside of his cheek. Wondering to himself why he’d stopped trying so quickly, knowing he was usually much more persistent. His perseverance was why he was still here, hunting Escobar. Yet, he’d folded like a piece of fucking paper when it came to you.

“Fine,” you commented, placing your glass down. “If we… don’t want to fuck this up. I think we need a codeword. An unsexy one. One that sorta tells the other to stop doing whatever they’re fucking doing….”

“Because…?”

You give him a look, a sharp one with soft edges. “Because we’re friends, right?”

He nods.

“So, as friends, I need a word to shout at you when you’re… Peñaring.” Frowning, he watches you smirk. “Javi, you’re handsome. And I spend… I spend more time with you than anyone else. The whole time I was on that date, I was thinking of you—and then there you fucking were. Being my friend.”

No. He thinks.

Knowing inside of him he wasn’t there to be your friend, but something he can’t quite acknowledge. A thing which vibrates inside of him, that gallops when you’re around and worsens when you’re not.

A thing he cannot give into. Not with what he does.

Not with what happened to Helena…

The remembrance, the horrid wake-up call that continues to paralyse him. The larger need to keep you safe.

“You like whores and quick-fucks. I like fucking one person who will only fuck me while they’re fucking me. And, I need the word—a word—because we spend a lot of time together, and you look like you do.”

His lip twitches, his moustache moving as he drags his eyes back to you. Unsure how you haven’t thrown it out there that you looking the way you do is also a problem.

As though you’re ignoring how fucking sinful you always look—especially in his fucking clothes.

He doesn’t because, if anything, he doesn’t hate the idea. Not immediately. Somewhat struggling to hide the way you make his cock twitch when you flirt, when you lean on his desk, the top two buttons undone on your blouse. That he sometimes fucks and wishes it was you and not the woman he’s chosen.

The two of you toeing the line of being friends to the point it sometimes makes his head hurt and his cock throb.

“What you got in mind?”

“Apuñalarme?”

He shouldn’t be surprised you’d thought of a word. Always methodical, always thinking ahead.

“Thinkin’ that one could be taken the wrong way.”

Frowning, you reach forward for some of the leftovers. “How?”

He stares, and then he swallows. “Well, I could stab you with my co—“

“OKAY. Fine. Who knew it would be so hard to pick a word to keep our friendship intact? What about… arepa?”

Taking a sip of his drink, his brow slowly arched.

“Well, it’s food—“

“Food can be sexy, bonita.”

“Yes, but if I said arepas, I don’t think: fuck me, Peña—I think fuck I could really eat some stuffed arepas with my friend Peña. Plus, we can then use it around people, ‘cause they’ll just think I’m after food.”

He plays with the glass, staring at your coffee table as he takes it in. Considering it. Finding it plausible—a good enough excuse. A thing to say other than ‘I don’t wanna hear about you going on a date, bonita’—probably around the same as you don’t wanna hear about his conquests.

You’re nervous, teeth picking at your skin.

Something blooming in his chest, smothering warmth across his heart and skin. You want to be his friend—you want him in your life.

“Alright, bonita, let’s give it a go.”

You pout, sighing. “You driving me home?” “Arepas.” “Funny, Peña. So funny.” “You made the rule, bonita.” Rolling your lips, he watches as you fold your arms under your dress. The fabric flows, blowing around your legs. “I can make this hard for you.” “That so?” He should have guessed it from the smirk alone. “I’m not wearing any underwear,” you say, pulling on his door handle and stepping in before slamming it. Leaving him processing, eyes staring at where you’d just been standing.

It became complicated in Medellín.

The routine, the lines—the friendship.

Everyone is forced all under one roof. The closer proximity means he has to listen to how the others talk to you, how you smile, and how you laugh with every single person. He can’t avoid your laugh—especially the ones you force from bad jokes. Javi has to listen to how others talk about you and how they describe the way they look at you.

He also has to deal with how your perfume simmers in the air here, how it lingers and clings, even if he does his best to drown it out with smoke.

In truth, he knows he is just annoyed that you’re even there, to begin with. And, not in Bogotá—where you would have been safer.

And, as annoying as he finds it, Javi supposes you must suffer through your fair share. His eyes catch yours when someone has called for him, his voice low, a smirk halfway up his face until he sees you ducking your head.

At the end of the first few days, he realises he misses his evenings with you back in Bogotá. Now, he has to share you in the open office space or hope you’re both free to go to one of the shitty bare rooms you’d both been given.

Yours at least was more private, Messina having fought for you to have your own as soon as you were relocated to her.

“Jealous, Peña?” “Yes, hermosa. You don’t have to share with Murphy.”

It worsens when he learns you’re single again.

You populate his thoughts all over again, having previously stifled them when he knew you were taken. Now that the few month-long situation-ship with someone from the president's building had ended, he found you half a bottle of wine down in your room with several sad Spanish songs.

When you’re single, it’s complicated. Messy.

He can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him. Before, he could convince himself that flirting is just how the two of you talk. He could comment slyly how he could give you a reason to be silent or him unable to tear his eyes off you when you bend down to get him something from the bottom shelf.

Even if you’re taken, he thinks arepas repeatedly as you look up at him with wide eyes and gloss-covered lips. But, it’s harmless when you’re unavailable—a foundation of who the two of you were. Now it was confusing again.

Especially when you begin wearing tight jeans. And you wait until Murphy leaves to pull his chair across and place a bottle on his desk.

“I need to get drunk.”

Blowing into a spare mug, Javi slams it down next to the bottle. “We can’t leave the base.”

“No, we cannot.”

“Any reason as to why you wanna get drunk?”

You uncap the bottle, glaring at him as you clamp your lips together. The sound of alcohol sloshing into the mug before you begin pouring him one.

“Hermosa…”

You take a mouthful from the mug, flicking your eyes to him as he leans back, whispering your name.

“I’m frustrated.”

“Messina busting your—“

“Not like that, Javi.”

It takes him a second.

A second too long for him, and then he almost chokes on his drink. “Arepas.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back in Murphy’s chair. “You asked.”

His thoughts run ahead of him. The idea of pressing you against the desk, hooking a finger in a belt loop as he tugs your tight jeans to your thighs. The way you’d moan his name—not Javier, Javi. Your hands splayed across his desk, taking everything he—

“—so I need to get drunk because otherwise, I’m going to jump someone, because this job is stressful, and I miss my place, my… privacy, and I also miss food truck nights.”

Swallowing, he places his mug down.

“I need to have sex—“

“—Arepas—“

“But by someone who won’t lord it over me.”

You stare at your mug, swirling it��biting the bottom of your lip as you do.

And he’s all set to tell you that you drive him crazy, that he’d make you feel good—you just have to ask. His hand slides across the desk, all set to tug your hand closer as he mumbles it.

Then fucking Murphy arrives.

Him slamming a mug down next to the bottle, muttering about crashing the party as he massages his temple and slides back into his chair.

It consumes him. The thoughts which he has let run free in the brief moment with you. How he’d fill you and make you hiss his name and make you come undone until you had no thoughts left.

If he thinks he’s alone, you show your cards when he’s helping you move your bed.

Your eyes are on him as he leans against the metal frame, staring off as he processes how he will have to move it. He doesn’t notice that the edge of his tan shirt has risen until he feels your eyes on him.

“Arepas!”

He flinches, ripped from his thoughts as he blinks, turning to look at you, watching you shift on the spot, a slow realisation coming to him as to why you shouted it. A smirk so large spreading, not even trying to hide it.

“I haven’t… I haven’t even fuckin’ done anything.”

You fold your arms, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks, the pulse in your ears. “Yes, well… I’ll move the bed myself.”

“Bonita?”

“—I gotta go—“

“This is your room.”

But you’re already heading to the door, flustered. He calls your name, but you’re gone—leaving him with only your scent and the last trailing sound of your voice.

For a second, staring at the empty doorway, not hating it for one minute, all of it evidenced by the growing smirk on his face.

The one not easily rid, even by the end of the day.

“Your room is…. nice?” He sniggers, grabbing his jacket as you stand awkwardly. “Y’alright, bonita?” Swallowing, you narrow your eyes when they land on him. Not cutting, but assessing. “Why have I heard from two separate people that they’ve been warned from me?” Shrugging his shoulders, he slides his arms into his jacket, frowning—painting it on thickly, maybe even by too much. “Javi.” “What?” You look at him, challenging him. Looking every bit like the secretary he met in Bogotá and less like the friend he’s come to know you as. “Did you warn people from asking me out?” Adjusting his jacket, he sighs. “Yeah. I did.”

Javi knows many things about you.

Some he has learnt against his will, others he’s learnt from watching you. One thing he knows, more than anything else, is that you’re never late. Not even if the world was on fire.

It’s why it coils inside him when he’s standing at the stairwell waiting for you. It chills him, prickles something inside. And then, it knots as his watch ticks on ripples out as more seconds become minutes.

He must shift, stress rolling off of him as he finds Steve’s brow raised, flicking his eyes up at him before shaking his head.

“Go on. I’ll let Messina know you’re both on your way.”

He doesn’t thank him, even if he makes a note to do so later. His feet taking the steps two at a time. Palm brushes over people as he moves them so he can get to your door quicker.

It’s his sole thing, a crystallising focus that glimmers like a goal, a light around your door as he makes a beeline for it. For you. Not slowing or stopping until he’s outside of it, his knuckles hammering into it.

He tries not to smirk at the expletives he hears, the mix of English and Spanish coming from the other side. The beautiful blend he’s heard so often when you’ve dropped food, wine or burnt yourself.

“One minute—“

“It’s me, bonita.”

He expects to hear a noise. Javi doesn’t expect a pause. A lengthy one.

“Oh.”

Oh? He thinks.

“Um, Javi, just gimme….”

It bubbles.

It fucking roars. It produces steam and fire—all of it feeling a lot like jealousy. Because: do you have someone in there with you? His jaw tightens at the idea, almost snapping into pieces, hammering against his feet. He hears a loud crash to the floor, shattering. His mind conjures images of two pairs of feet (at best), two awkward souls trying to move around one another littered by a sea of expletives and hisses.

“Bonita… open the f—door.”

He doesn’t mean to use a tone. Unable to cage it, the fury which doubles and triples inside of him. Only just about managed to stifle the word fucking from being in the sentence.

Javi regrets it when you rip open your door, standing with more skin on show than he’s ever seen. Your privacy is covered by the thinnest pieces of black lace possible—lace that would be easy to snap, to rip from you as he drags his eyes up and down.

Unable to think; unable to process—

“I overslept.”

“…Bonita…”

“I am running late.”

“I can see that.”

You jab him, light, making your body twist as you do. Something he can’t tear his eyes from, least of all when you turn, his feet following. It’s autopilot as he shuts your door behind him, not hearing another person—the anger and jealousy simmering at knowing you’re alone.

You’re just… in your underwear.

Around him.

“Arepas.”

“What?” you call out, bending down, grabbing clothes as he averts his eyes.

His brain forces his feet to come to a stop, his hand adjusting himself as he tries to swallow. Because whatever he’d imagined you’d look like, has just been beaten—you’re… fucking gorgeous.

“Nothing,” he manages, staring around your place. Finding a bottle of half-drunk wine on the desk—sat beside one glass. “You had a fun night without me?”

You laugh, turning to face you, finding you with trousers on. “I… I’m struggling to sleep… here.”

He can relate.

“How was Gabby?”

He pulls a face, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah—she’s fine.”

You fasten your blouse, moving towards him, closer and closer, until you’re in front of him, and his mind is fucking blank.

“You’re standing over my shoes, Javi.”

It shouldn’t stick to him—your words. But they do. How they’re sickly sweet, how they clag and cling to the edges of his mind as he tries to concentrate. He’s typing, and then he’ll replay it, fingers pausing on the heavy keys of the typewriter.

Fuck.

Not able to tear his fucking eyes off of you. Not that you have noticed. You barely look his way with the mountain of shit Messina’s given you to do in one day. Hammering down on you, reminding them all they can’t make mistakes—more so since the toilet debacle. The heaviness of how close they’d been weighed on them. All of them.

So close.

He watches you stand up, calling after someone as you do a little run in your heels until there’s none of you left to watch. Staring at where you’d been, somehow still flickering between seeing you the way he saw you this morning and the well-put-together version just in here.

“What’s up with you?

“Nothing.”

Steve snorts, leaning against the wall. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘cause you look like—“

“She answered the door in her fuckin’ underwear.”

Steve widens his eyes, pulling out his cigarettes. “And that’s something you’ve not seen before?”

He glares. Chewing a retort as he furiously stubs out his cigarette.

“Alright, so, now what?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Your word come in use?”

He shoots another glare, watching his partner hold his hands up.

“Not fucking helping, Murphy.”

“The fuck you mean she was sent to take some papers?” Him storming out of the building, hearing Murphy close behind. Not thinking. Thumb brushes over his fingers as something surges through him. Thumping. Building. Pushing past people, moving out of the way from the ones he comes into contact with, stepping out into the warm air as he sees hell. Men bleeding, carried by other men. His heart in his throat, furiously pounding, unsure where to start, where to go— Then he sees you. Time slows, people coming to a halt as he watches you and his feet begin to move. His hands guide him past people, walking and walking until he pulls you close—not caring for the blood on his shirt from your head, or the way you whimper when you crash into him. He meets your eyes, staring into them, finding his throat dry as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Arepas.” “Arepas…” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

When it rains, it pours.

It’s what he thinks as he sinks another glass, elbowing digging into the desk, all set to shout at Messina to leave him alone, suspecting she had returned.

But then, he’d seen you.

Face lit up by the yellowing light, a softness to your features and a shyness to your frame.

Javi isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Whether the guilt would shift at the sight of you, whether the sadness would stop laying on thickly.

For a second, nothing happens.

He doesn’t move. You don’t move.

And then he’s standing, and you’re crossing the room, pulling him close, hands around him as you keep him close. It’s friendly, he thinks—suspects. A simple hug. Something the two of you have done only a handful of times, but twice so recently.

In the fog of regret and alcohol, he can barely convince himself, his grip on it lost when you’re in his lap. His face in your neck, bathed in you—the distinct scent which clings to some of his clothes, the warmth he feels when he knows he shouldn’t.

It’s easy, simple—and also everything.

Shards of himself held in place by your grip on him, his own hand placing the glass down so he can clutch you that much tighter.

It isn’t him. A thing he’s acutely aware of, yet he buries his face into your neck. Breath dancing along your neck, feeling you still, wondering if you’re thinking the word as he is when you pull back, eyes meeting his.

“Oh, Javi…”

He chews his tongue, lessening his hold on you. Allowing you to move—giving you free rein to leave.

“Messina send you?”

You stand, tilting the bottle beside the glass, staring at the label. Your silence fills the gaps, finding the cracks of regret and guilt, layering itself thickly in it.

Answer me, he thinks. Almost wanting to command it.

“Boni—“

“No,” you say, curt, sharp.

Your eyes dig in, taking a step back, running the back of your hand over your forehead.

“Didn’t… I haven’t even seen her.”

He could speak, but it would be useless. No words can conjure that would make any of it okay—heaviness adding in bulk to his shoulders as he stands. Making his legs feel like jelly and his spine wanting to bend.

And then, he’s walking towards you, your back meeting a wall as he presses you against the wall, keeping you close. Just like you were minutes ago.

He traces the tip of his nose against your cheek, catching the scent of your perfume. Your eyes are on him, watching his movements as he places his hand on your hip.

“Arepas…”

He snorts, pressing his forehead softly against yours. “You want me to stop, bonita?”

Your lips twitch, eyes flicking.

A thousand thoughts dashing and darting in the shades he has memorised. Then you’re moving closer, mouth delicately pressing against his—testing, teasing. Saying no wordlessly.

It’s easy to return it, to give in—to kiss you like he has thought about since your name fell from your lips. A thousand missed moments and building will-they-won’t-they slamming into the both of you.

It’s why it shifts, his mouth not being gentle, his grip more desperate. His tongue sliding past your teeth, your hips flush against his as you curl your fingers into his hair.

He’s on fire. Scorched. Changed.

Flashes of you standing in the doorway in your underwear blending with the feel of you right now, how your lips move against his like the two are you well-versed in kissing one another.

“Dreamt about you, bonita.”

You murmur at his words, whimpering at his teeth, latching on the space under your lobe and neck.

“Thought of the sounds I’d make you make….”

“Fuck, Javi...”

Your nails dig into his neck, pulling and twisting him so you can marry your lips back to his. You kiss him like you want to conquer him, and own him. Something you’ve done since the moment you met—something he responds with how he licks into your mouth. Just pausing at your moan, tasting it—capturing it.

Your lips part as you clutch his cheek, breath ghosting as he lets dark brown wash over you. “I’m here. I’m here, Javi.”

He knows what you mean, what you’re implying: I’m here, you need someone, I’m yours.

The sound of him swallowing sounds louder, sharper—even against his ears as he flicks his sight over you. You’re better than it, better than him. You’re too good, too perfect—something he doesn’t want to break, snap or ruin.

Sometimes, you’re the only thing that feels untouched, unblemished. You were the one who saw him after he’d gotten back from the brothel. When Carillo…

He blinks, finding your fingers still on his cheek, eyes still on him—but he’s unsure if he’s misheard you. Misunderstood.

You don’t do quick fucks.

But you’re clever. You’re always fucking clever. Kissing him, hooking a finger in a belt loop, pulling him flush. As you show him that you mean it.

“Need you, Javi. Just you.”

He growls, moving you to push you down on the awkward, creaking bed. He watches dumbfounded as your fingers begin to aid the removal of your clothes. Exposing skin, inch by inch, to him—looking every bit inviting as you have done since the first day he fucking met you.

Throwing your trousers to some distant corner, he parts your knees with his waist, pushing the damp green lace to the side, as he coats his finger in your want.

“Javi…”

“You suit green, bonita.”

He eases a finger in, watching your mouth part as he does.

“But, I can’t stop picturing that black set.”

“Like it, did you?”

It’s breathy, desperate. Your lips ghost over his as he stiffens, pausing his ministrations, needing to look you in the eyes.

“It’s all I’ve thought about since, bonita.”

Leaning over, he captures your moan, sliding in another finger as his name vibrates against his lips. Your eyes are so full of adoration, lust and want—it almost shatters him—but it’s the desperation that coils around him. The neediness which is falling from your lips makes him want more.

He’s thorough, listening to your whines, finding each place inside you that makes you twitch and moan. He’s learning you, studying every inch, so he can please you from the get-go—if he ever gets the chance again.

It’s his knuckle that undoes you the first time, rolling quick circles around the bundle of nerves which has fingers in his hair and your breath against his cheek.

Javi, fuck—you, Javi, you.

His breathing is shallow when you come down, feeling your hands—shaky but determined—tugging him to join you in being naked, his hand grabbing the one thing he needs outside of you.

“Wanna taste you, but need to fuck you, bonita. Can I? Can I fuck your pretty pussy?”

You groan, kissing his jaw and his neck. A chorus of yes and pleases bless his skin as his teeth rip the wrapper, fingers expertly sliding it over his length to not waste time.

And then, your fingers leave bruises as you tug on his chin, pulling his eyes to you. A thought rolls, building; Tell me I’ve not ruined this. That I’ve not fucked up another thing.

“Yours, Javi. I’m yours.”

His hand clutches your cheek, fingers pressing against your ear and hairline as you nod. His mouth smothers yours, stealing a moan, air and whatever thoughts were trying to populate. He does so as he lines himself up with you, when you wrap him in warm bliss.

Your fingers on his shoulders, digging in, please move, Javi. And then, his hips move with yours, something swelling inside of him, a thing which makes it hard to stop kissing you, to ever want to stop being between your thighs—

He doesn’t usually fuck like this.

It starts that way, but never ends that way—and yet here he is. Never with them on their backs, eye to eye, lip to lip. But then, you’ve never been them. You’re nothing like them.

And he won’t move, can’t. He slides his tongue past your teeth and grips your hip that bit tighter as he feels your walls grip him desperately.

“Feel so good, Javi—y’fuck me so good.”

He knows.

Knows because you’re fucking heavenly—perfection sent just for him. Something he whispers into your lips, lets you taste it as he feels you getting closer and closer.

Then he just hears you. And the sound is prettier than his mind could ever conjure.

Just feels you. And it's better than he ever thought it could feel.

Then, there's nothing else, until he feels pleasure—until it’s white light and your name spluttering from his lips. Your hands in his hair, hips slowing with his as his lips sloppily find yours.

“We should talk.” You frown, looking over your desk as he leans both palms down. “Bonita… we had sex.” “A few times, if I recall.” “You… you seem rather calm about this?” You smirk, lifting your mug to your lips. “Should I not be?” He’s silent, uncharacteristically so. Never short of words, not with you. “Javi, I almost fucking died… then Carrillo… I-I needed… I just needed you.” “Bonita…” “I don’t need pity. Do not worry. I’m not expecting anything, I know you, I’m not complicating this, and I’m not asking to change you. I like you as you are, and I know for you, last night for you was just a one-night thing—” He whispers your name, wrapped in confusion and surprise— Your hand pats his chest, “—and I’m off to the funeral. Please try not to drown yourself in whiskey while I’m gone.” “You know I’m not going...” Smiling, you let your fingers linger on his shirt button, twisting it. “You don’t do funerals—it was one of the first things you told me.” Letting your hand drop before you walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.

It unravels.

Looking every bit like the day he’d been running around the ranch, knocking into the table beside his momma’s armchair, watching in horror as spools of cotton spread out. They ran uncontrollably away, undoing in a fit of rainbow shades and mess. It had taken him an age to fix, fingers raw from cotton against his fingers.

That’s what it was like now—except he wasn’t sure he could fix it.

If anything, he knows he can't.

He realises it when he tells you. A wave of disappointment ascended and crashed in your eyes until you looked at him with an expression painted in worry. It makes him want to kiss it from you, but your hand brushes his cheek—keeping him where he was, close but not too close.

Don’t… What? Worry about you? Yeah, I don’t… I don’t deserve it. Tough, Javi. I’ve worried about you since the moment you bought me food truck food and told me I had sauce on my chin. Why's that? You just seemed like someone who I needed to worry about.

He wanted to kiss you differently then. Softly—gently. Almost greedily. Show you the words he wishes he could say easily. Let you feel how much he adores you, how much he cares, that he even wants to…

Javi doesn’t.

His brain too quick to remind him that you deserve solid truths, not hopeful lies. Tells himself that he’s anything with him will end in ruin, evidenced by the way things keep crumbling, the grip on helping having become closer to hurting.

He tries to build walls to keep you out, ones you chip out with more force than he bargained for. Your nails pulling at bricks, eyes burning through gaps: Do not keep me out, Peña.

So he stops. The energy wasted, even if he wants nothing but to protect you. Doing poorly at it—so much so he doesn’t realise you’re even swept up in it. Not in the moments where he comes find you for a moment of reprieve in the swirling hurricane he created.

You look like shit. Tell me how you really feel, bonita. Javi... I'm fine. You're not. No, I'm not.

He could kick himself when he realises it.

Only seeing it when he returns to the base, stopping short of your desk and finds it bare. No mug. No papers. No little notes you write yourself so you never forget a thing.

Bare. Empty.

There's no scent of your perfume and the air is absent of your laugh.

You had always found him, whether in his room, in a cupboard, at his desk. But, he hadn't thought to look for you today. Just put it aside, suspecting he'd find you later.

"Shit."

Sweat pools at the base of his back as he heads to Messina's. Hating himself, wondering if you'd been questioned. He'd never even tried to make sure you were okay with the knowledge of what he had done, what he continued to do in an effort to fix it.

I’m here, Javi. I'm yours, Javi.

He knows you are a part of the fallout when he sees Stechner behind Messina's desk.

It confirming it. Almost wanting to cut him off from saying your name—not wanting to hear it from his lips. Stechner says it anyway, as though knowing. Purposefully adding more poison to it and accompanying it with a cold smirk. One which almost makes him grip the man by the arm and land his fist in his teeth.

You should have stayed in your lane…

Everything tightened inside of him. While everything around him crumbled, slowly crashing down: the walls, the ceiling—the pretence.

It makes his blood run cold, his heart crack right in the centre.

Ambassador wants to see you. Get your passport.

Tightening his jaw, he hammers his feet up the stairs, taking them two by two. Needing his room, needing a moment.

His hand rubbing over his face, mind populated with memories—ones both good and bad. Your voice swirling around them. Your smile, your laugh, all appearing before they burst, showering him in a mess of confetti he’ll never be able to clean. One he doesn’t want to, if they all he has left of you.

He tries to think of his passport. Where it could be. The location of it in the mess of his room—trying not to wonder, worry or think about where you are. What his mess has done to you.

Opening the door, he comes to a halt when he finds both standing in the centre of the room.

Time comes to a stop. His heart pausing mid-slam into his ribs, the pain rippling out, as he takes you in. Watching your fingers and hand slowly rise, holding not one, but two passports, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

He lets the door shut behind him, suddenly able to breathe. The weight, the one crushing him for ages, finally stepping up from him, allowing air to fill his lungs, allowing his chest to rise and fall as you softly smile.

“Bonita… what… how?”

“I handed my notice in… Messina, she knew about—she advised me, said it would buy me more time. It did—has. Stechner—”

It takes three strides—three—and even those felt long before his lips crashed into yours, silencing you, not wanting your pretty lips to ever mouth his name. Feeling your hand, the one clutching the passports, against his shoulder and the other on his hip. Pulling him in, wanting him—even still.

He feels like he’s dreaming, until you bite his lip. Smirking against his lips as the two of you part. The feel of it bringing him back to earth, trying not to overthink it and let the moment ruin.

Javi just holds you—like he should have done earlier this morning when he'd seen you, and from the very beginning.

Pulling you close as he humanly can, for as long as he’s able to. Doing so selfishly until both of you are just staring at one another, the gap so thin between you, you’re not all in focus.

“Ask me.”

His knuckles slide along your cheek, knowing what you’re implying. Something coiling at what you’re suggesting—something he’d thought about days ago. Regretted not asking minutes ago…

“Javi.” Your fingers wrapping around his chin. “Ask me or let me go….”

Clearing his throat and licking his lips—sighing.

Wanting to. Nothing compelled him more. But the wounded part, the one which is sore and raw, tells him not to. To put distance, space, time—and fucking everything else—between you both.

To protect you. To love you from afar.

“Be with me.”

Smiling, you whisper, “Please?”

“Please,” he adds, a light smirk threatening to spill.

You let your fingers slide over it, the little crease at the end of the hair on his upper lip. “I’m yours, Javi. All yours.”

“You have to know what that means, bo—”

“I already know,” you cut him off, fingers dancing along his cheek. "I don't care."

an: thank you for reading, feel i should apologise for the length ha!

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