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last-dropsevi · 18 hours ago

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𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ

Ambessa Medarda x Personal Assistant Reader

Synopsis: Her protective and possessive side shows when you want to leave her side. A/N: Contains possessive behavior, Manipulation, Power dynamic, Alittle sexual tension. also hint of yandere behavoir. Reader is younger than her

You had always been more than just a tailor to Ambessa. From the very first time you entered her life, you had become something irreplaceable—not only to her but to her daughter Mel as well.

You weren’t as young as Mel, but you were closer to her age than Ambessa’s, a few years older, just enough to serve as a bridge between the ferocity of bessa and the fragility of Mel’s youthful spirit. Your bond with Mel had always been gentle—nurturing, protective, and maternal in a way that Ambessa was never able to provide. While Ambessa’s presence in Mel’s life was powerful, intimidating, and sometimes suffocating, you had quietly stood in the background, a safe haven when Mel needed someone to lean on.

You were the one who had whispered to her when she was struggling with a design, the one who had reassured her when her dreams seemed too big for this world. You were there on the days when Mel couldn’t approach her mother, when Ambessa’s fierce nature pushed her too far away, leaving Mel to retreat into herself.

Your relationship with Ambessa, however, was a different matter entirely. You were more than just a confidante, more than someone who crafted her most beautiful and lethal designs—you were her family, her trusted ally. You’d stood by her side for years, helping to shape her image and her empire, and over time, you’d become as indispensable to her as she was to you.

But it was your role as a mother figure to Mel that set you apart, the one thing that had always been a subtle thorn in Ambessa’s side. She had never let anyone get too close to her daughter, never trusted anyone with Mel in quite the same way. Yet, somehow, you had slipped through the cracks. You had earned that trust—not with grand gestures or fiery speeches, but with quiet devotion and years of loyalty.

For years, you had been a constant in both their lives, a silent protector for Mel and a quiet but irreplaceable ally for bessa. It was a delicate balance, one that you had always maintained without truly questioning it. But lately, something had shifted. You could feel it—a slow burn building under the surface, a need to break free and see what else the world had to offer.

It was a late afternoon when bessa arrived for a fitting. She walked into your studio with the same imposing presence she always carried, her steps measured, her eyes sharp. Yet today, something about her demeanor was different, more tense, as if the usual calm confidence she exuded was laced with something unspoken.

she reached for the fabric you were smoothing over her body. She didn’t speak immediately but instead let the moment stretch, her eyes watching your hands. Ambessa’s gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged at her lips.

You were adjusting the hem of one of her gowns when she spoke, her voice breaking the silence in a way that caught your attention.

"You have such gentle hands," she said, her voice unexpectedly tender. "I love how your smaller hands mold the fabric to me... it’s like you’re shaping not just the gown, but something deeper. Your touch is... different. It’s like you hold the power, even in these delicate movements."

You froze, momentarily caught off guard by the praise. It felt heavier than usual, as though her words weren’t just about your skill with fabric, but something more personal. The sensation of her words lingered in the air, and you felt the weight of the trust she placed in you.

"…although, You’ve been distant lately," she said, her tone casual, but there was an edge there. "What’s going on with you?"

Ambessa stepped a little closer as you continued to adjust the gown. Her muscles shifted beneath the fabric, and you couldn’t help but notice how the strength in her body contrasted with your own gentleness. Your fingers brushed lightly over her skin as you continued your work, but this time, the touch felt charged. You tried to block out the growing sense of desire, but her presence, her body, made it hard to focus. She was right—there was power in these small movements, in the way you shaped her, the way she allowed you to.

You straightened up, meeting her eyes. "Nothing," you replied easily, but your voice betrayed you. The exhaustion in your tone was unmistakable, something Ambessa always noticed. "Just... thinking."

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Thinking?" she repeated, as if the word itself didn’t quite fit. "About what?"

You set the fabric aside, your fingers brushing against the soft silk as you turned to face her fully. "About the future," you said, your voice steady despite the undercurrent of uncertainty within you. "I’ve been doing this for years, Ambessa. It’s not that I’m tired of it—it’s just... I’m starting to wonder if there’s more out there for me."

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving you. She was sharp, perceptive, and you knew the moment she realized what you were getting at. "More?" she echoed, her voice quiet but laced with something darker. "Are you saying you want to leave?"

You shook your head, trying to ease the tension. "No. I’m not saying that. I just..." You paused, trying to find the right words. "I want a new challenge. Something else to work toward. Something different."

"you sound like mel" she said faintly, more like she was saying it to herself. understanding this you ignore the comment.

Meeting the older women’s gaze you notice how she’s studying you with that sharp, calculating gaze. You could feel her eyes tracing the lines of your body, picking up every detail, every nuance in your behavior.

“What could you possibly need that I don’t already provide?" she asked, her tone suddenly sharp, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. Her eyes flickered with something that resembled anger—then something else, something harder, darker.

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sudden shift in attitude. "Nothing," you said, your voice even. "But I’m not just a tailor. I want to push myself further. Explore what else is out there."

Ambessa’s silence was thick, and you could feel her studying you, her calculating gaze boring into you as though trying to dissect the very essence of your words. "You’ve been with me for so long," she said slowly, each word heavy with meaning. "I’ve trusted you, depended on you. And now, you’re telling me you want more? What does that mean for us?"

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you turned back to the gown, letting the silence hang between you. The air felt thick now, the quiet oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

"You’re not going anywhere," Ambessa finally said, her voice a low growl, her presence more forceful now, as though trying to anchor you in place. "You belong here. You belong with me."

Her words rang out with an undeniable authority, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them—the possessiveness in her voice, the unspoken claim she laid on you. It was a truth you had known for years: Ambessa didn’t take kindly to anyone she considered hers stepping away. You had become too entwined in her life, in her world, to simply walk away without consequence.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Her gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

You knew then, in that moment, that she wasn’t just talking about the work. She wasn’t just talking about the gowns you created for her. Ambessa was speaking of something deeper—something far more dangerous. She was speaking about possession.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Ambessa’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

Every glance, every word, felt weighted with something unspoken, a quiet understanding that things were changing. She could feel it, and so could you.

And so, when she invited you over for dinner that evening—an offer that had once been casual, familiar—you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. There was an unspoken challenge in the air, a game being played without either of you fully acknowledging it.

As you arrived at her estate, the familiar scents of cooking wafted through the air, but there was an unusual stillness to the house. Ambessa had already set the table, the atmosphere quieter than usual, and you could tell she was waiting for something—waiting for you to make a move, to finally say the words that had been hanging between you for days.

Dinner passed in relative silence, save for the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. The food was delicious, as always, but there was something off about the whole evening, an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore. You felt it in the way Ambessa’s gaze lingered on you, how her eyes followed every movement you made. It was as though she was waiting for you to finally let the mask slip and reveal your true thoughts. But you weren’t ready to speak the words yet.

The silence stretched on, filling the space between you both, until the last plate was cleared. Ambessa’s voice broke the stillness again, her words carefully measured, but the sharpness in them was unmistakable.

"You still haven’t told me what this... new challenge of yours is," she said, her voice soft but edged with a possessiveness that sent a ripple of unease down your spine. She wasn’t asking out of curiosity anymore. She was testing you, trying to push you into revealing what had been hanging over you like a shadow.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers lightly tapping on the edge of your glass as you weighed your words. "I’ve been thinking of working with someone else. Maybe... someone who needs a new direction. Someone who needs my skills, my creativity. Something different."

Ambessa’s hand froze on her glass, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem. The subtle shift in her demeanor was enough to make your heart race. Her eyes, once warm and steady, were now colder, sharper, calculating. There was a moment where the world seemed to stop, where you could feel the pressure in the air growing heavier, as though she was waiting for something more, something she knew she might not like.

"What do you mean? Who is this ‘someone’?" she asked, her voice cold now, laced with a possessive edge. "Who else could possibly need you more than I do?"

You knew that the question wasn’t as much about the "someone" as it was about your answer. She wanted to know where your loyalty truly lay. The words hung in the air, and you found yourself considering just how much you were willing to reveal.

"I’m not sure yet," you said, your voice steady, but there was a subtle edge of defiance in it. "But I have to find out. For myself."

Ambessa’s gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes narrowed, and the familiar storm cloud you had been anticipating began to form behind her composed exterior. She leaned forward just a fraction, her gaze darkening. The silence between you now was thick and suffocating, and you could feel her struggle to maintain control.

A thought flitted through your mind—a fleeting image of someone who had been in touch with you recently, Cassandra Kirriman. You hadn’t spoken about it aloud, but the idea of working with her, moving to Piltover, was starting to seem more appealing. The prospect of a new challenge, a fresh environment, of doing something entirely different was becoming increasingly tempting. You hadn’t voiced it, but it had been there—something in the back of your mind. You didn’t have a specific person or place in mind, but Piltover… it felt like it could be the place where you could carve out a new path.

Ambessa’s sharp eyes caught the fleeting thought in your gaze, the shift in your posture. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. The quiet understanding between you felt like it was cracking.

She was aware of your connection with Cassandra, of course. You had kept it brief, but Ambessa, ever observant, had picked up on the mentions, the small exchanges between you and the Kirriman family. Piltover. The city that had lured her daughter away. The city that had taken what Ambessa had treasured most. That realization was the turning point, the unspoken truth that hit her like a wave.

But Ambessa didn’t say it aloud. She couldn’t bring herself to. Not in front of you. Not yet. The connection was too raw, too personal. Her daughter had left for Piltover, leaving Ambessa to wrestle with the hollow ache of abandonment, a feeling she hadn’t been able to name until now. And now, here you were, talking about leaving—not for another person or nation, but for Piltover. The idea twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to admit how it stung, how it felt like a betrayal of the same kind she had experienced years ago.

Her voice, though still soft, became more insistent. "If you leave me," she whispered, her words almost a warning, a final threat laced with the kind of sorrow that could only be felt by someone who had already been left behind once before, "I won’t let you go. I will make sure of it."

" we will see"

Masterlist

#ambessa x reader #arcane season two #arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #ambessa medarda #arcane medarda #jinx arcane #greyson arcane #caitlyn kiramman #cassandra kiramman #arcane ambessa #ambessa league of legends #mel and ambessa #yandere x reader #yandere arcane

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rose24207 · 1 day ago

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When mom looses her cool

Summary: You finally snap after you catch your kids lying about a party and afterwards teach them a lesson about responsibility.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, Dad!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, lying

A/N: wow I haven’t post about the mafia Norris family for so long! Anyways Amelia is 17 and Jacob is 16! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The Norris household was usually a place of balance, despite the unconventional family dynamics. Lando Norris, the head of a vast, shadowy empire, had a knack for handling chaos with an iron fist cloaked in charm. You, his wife, were the gentler counterbalance to his commanding presence—a source of love and calm for the family.

But every calm sea has its storm, and this storm had been brewing for weeks.

Amelia and Jacob were no strangers to pushing limits. They loved to test boundaries, usually with harmless antics. However, this time they had crossed the line in a way that even Lando couldn’t immediately smooth over.

It began with a lie.

“We’re staying over at Olivia’s house,” Amelia had said casually at dinner the night before, her fork poking at her salad.

“Yeah, her parents are hosting a movie night for us,” Jacob chimed in, nodding a little too enthusiastically.

You raised an eyebrow but said nothing, trusting them. Lando, ever the observer, leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering between his children. “Just don’t get into trouble,” he said simply, his voice calm but laced with warning.

The kids had nodded eagerly, but their plan was anything but innocent.

Hours later, instead of watching movies under the supervision of Olivia’s parents, Amelia and Jacob found themselves in the middle of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It was a full-blown underground rave, complete with deafening music, strobe lights, and an eclectic mix of people who had no business being there.

Jacob had been reluctant at first, but Amelia, ever the instigator, convinced him. “Come on, Jake! We’ll just stay for an hour. No one will find out.”

Famous last words.

Back at home, you were in bed reading, while Lando was reviewing some work on his laptop. A ping on his phone drew his attention. He frowned as he read the text.

“Security team flagged something,” he said, his voice calm but tight.

You looked up. “What?”

Lando held up his phone, showing a blurry image of Amelia and Jacob entering the warehouse. “That’s not Olivia’s house.”

Your blood boiled. For once, you didn’t feel calm or understanding. You felt betrayed.

“I’m going to call them,” you said, reaching for your phone.

Lando placed a hand over yours, his voice steady. “No. Let them finish digging their hole. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“But—”

“They’re teenagers. They’re going to screw up,” he said, his tone even. “It’s how we handle it that matters.”

You took a deep breath and reluctantly agreed, but the anger simmered beneath your calm exterior.

The kids stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, looking worse for wear. Amelia’s eyeliner was smudged, and Jacob’s usually pristine hair was a mess. They clearly hadn’t slept much.

“Morning,” Amelia mumbled, heading straight for the fridge.

“Rough night?” Lando asked casually, sipping his coffee.

Amelia froze, the milk carton halfway to the counter. Jacob shot her a panicked look.

“Uh, no. Just stayed up late watching movies,” Amelia said, forcing a smile.

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice unusually sharp as you entered the kitchen.

Both kids turned to you, their smiles faltering. You placed your hands on your hips, leveling them with a glare that could shatter glass.

“Olivia’s house must have a rave room now,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jacob’s eyes widened. Amelia, ever the bold one, tried to play it cool. “Mom, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Oh, really?” you snapped. “Because it looks like my children lied to my face, snuck off to an illegal party, and came home thinking they could get away with it!”

Amelia winced. Jacob looked like he wanted to disappear.

“We didn’t mean for it to get out of hand,” Jacob tried, his voice small.

“That’s your defense?” you shot back. “Jacob, you could’ve been arrested. Or worse!”

Lando, who had been quietly watching from the corner, finally spoke up. “Alright, let’s all take a breath.”

But you weren’t done. “No, Lando. I’ve had enough of their reckless behavior. This isn’t just a mistake; it’s disrespectful!”

Amelia blinked, stunned. You rarely raised your voice. Seeing you this angry was new territory, and she didn’t like it.

“We’re sorry,” she said quickly.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” you replied. “You lied to us, put yourselves in danger, and then had the nerve to come back here and act like nothing happened!”

Amelia and Jacob were marched into the living room, where you laid out the consequences.

“No phones for two weeks,” you began.

“What?!” Amelia protested.

“And you’ll both be spending your weekends helping out at the community center,” you continued, ignoring her outburst.

Jacob groaned. “Come on, Mom, that’s not fair.”

“You’re lucky we’re not grounding you until graduation,” you shot back.

Lando, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, finally chimed in. “Listen to your mother. She’s being generous.”

The kids fell silent, exchanging a glance. They had expected their father to be the hardliner, not you.

The silence in the house was palpable for the rest of the day. Amelia retreated to her room, while Jacob sulked in the den. Lando found you in the kitchen later, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea.

“You handled that well,” he said, his tone amused.

You shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s good for them to see this side of you. Keeps them on their toes.”

“They need to understand that their actions have consequences,” you said, your voice softening. “I’m tired of them thinking they can get away with anything.”

“They’ll learn,” Lando assured you. “Trust me. They’re more scared of you than they’ve ever been of me.”

Later that night, Amelia knocked on Jacob’s door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

She flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t believe Mom yelled at us.”

Jacob sighed. “I know. I think I’d rather deal with Dad’s lectures.”

“Same,” Amelia admitted. “She was scary.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Amelia added, “Do you think we went too far this time?”

Jacob glanced at her. “Yeah. We screwed up.”

Amelia nodded. “We should probably apologize.”

“Yeah.”

The next morning, you and Lando were in the kitchen when Amelia and Jacob shuffled in.

“Mom?” Amelia began hesitantly.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“We’re sorry,” Jacob said. “For lying and…everything else.”

“We know we messed up,” Amelia added. “It won’t happen again.”

You studied them for a moment before nodding. “Thank you. But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

“We know,” they said in unison.

Lando smirked. “Smart kids.”

You shot him a look, but your lips twitched in a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, they were learning.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

#lando x reader #lando norris #lando imagine #lando x you #fluff #f1 #angst #mafia!lando #f1 mafia au #formula one #formula 1 #dad!lando #f1!mafia #f1 x reader #dark f1 #lando x y/n

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jennshiro · 3 hours ago

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Okay this episode is great for RenRuki, I see that. It's obvious.

But my ByaRen-shipping headcancon was unstoppable because this entire sequence just solidified my ship.

What is my favourite ByaRen headcanon? That they’re gay! Or pan or something and in love with each other. For what is the point of a ship if you don’t ship the hell out of your favourite characters, hm?!

This scene right hurr Renji is helping Rukia because she asked him to, yes, but also because Byakuya prepared him for the expecation of Rukia asking him, and Bya encouraged Rukia to ask Renji for support.

Nii-sama set up this whole thing from the start.

In my head Renji is Byakuya’s boyfriend and comes around the Kuchiki estate (also Rukia’s home) all the time and even though Renji is Rukia’s childhood friend, Byakuya wants her to like him as his boyfriend.

This new dynamic between Renji and Byakuya has changed Renji’s relationship with Rukia. For so long these two men were separate parts of her life. She had her bff and her brother compartmentalized and how would you feel if your bestie started dating your brother??

She misses Renji but is also adjusting to this new dimension of Renji and Byakuya being Renji and Byakuya. Before, she used to see and think of each of them separately; now they have each other in this private pocket of love that doesn’t include her.

She sometimes feels like an outsider when she’s around them together. So this is Byakuya’s way of creating a scenario for Rukia to spend some time with Renji and remember their friendship.

He figures that Renji will find a way to help Rukia feel at ease and Renji will feel like he’s doing something important for the Kuchiki family. Win-win, right?

Byakuya overhears as Renji drags Rukia away from the estate in an effort to help her loosen up. You can just tell he surrenders his faith to whatever Renji is trying to do.

Also wanted to screencap our beautiful Byakuya.

Renji, telling Bya about his day later:

Renji: …so we went to Squad 11 for a training workout. I thought it would help Rukia feel strong.

Bya: Hm.

Renji: Then we went to Squad 10 for Rangiku to ‘awaken Rukia's femininity’ or something.

Bya: looks at him sharply

Renji: inhales Not like that! Rukia doesn’t even need… Rangiku wasn’t really helpful.

Bya: Next, you should try calligraphy. It is widely known to be a relaxing activity.

Byakuya provides Renji with all the supplies he needs to do calligraphy with Rukia. Rukia writes “friendship” in calligraphy and this just warms my platonic Ren-Ruki heart!

When the ink spills and stains the special kimono, Renji is about to say that he’ll tell Byakuya what happened. (He doesn’t get to finish his sentence in the anime).

Later, Renji is wandering about the Kuchiki estate in the rain and Byakuya goes to find him after being told that the red-haired lieutenant was loitering on the bridge.

Renji tells him about the kimono and how it got ink-stained. Byakuya feels responsible because this whole thing was his idea (okay the clan elders insisted on the dance and have high expectations of tradition) and the calligraphy was his contribution.

Rukia’s dream with Kaien is exactly what she needs I think. Seeing the comforting face of another man in her life that she loves (loved) saying nonsense to her may help her remember to not take everything so seriously.

We also get this most profound nugget of wisdom:

“When your toes are tired, put a chili pepper in your socks!”

She wakes to find that Byakuya has replaced the stained kimono with the exact one that Hisana once wore to perform the same celebration dance. He reminds Rukia that what’s most important is her attitude when dancing - something that Renji has been trying to help her with all week.

Byakuya almost smiles at Rukia’s eventual realization. HE DIDN'T SMILE BUT HE FOR SURE WANTED TO OKAY??

He has so much pride for his sister and his boyfriend in this moment and he feels a warm swell in his chest. Can’t you tell?

I just love seeing him on screen.

But then we don’t get to see Rukia dance!

The omake in the human world almost makes up for it, as Chad and Keigo come to the park with their giant kites and Ishida stresses out about his Quincy dance recital while Ichigo is, understandably, bemused and panicked.

sigh I love this show.

“Dear Renji: On January 10th, I will be performing the Celebration Dance. I’d really like you to come and see me perform. P.S. And Renji, Thank you.”

#bleach #bleach anime #bleach fandom #bleach characters #bleach headcanons #ichigo kurosaki #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #byaren #byakuya x renji #renbya #you can't call this analysis #so I'm not saying it's analysis #this is just how I feel about my ship okay?

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zeropro · 9 hours ago

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Hi, what are your thoughts on Megatron? Most Starscream fans don't have very positive ones about him lol, but everyone is different and I would like to know that you think

I like Megatron okay, he doesnt bother me but im not like jumping up and down for megatron content yknow? but I get not liking Megatron as a Starscream fan. It's just, you can't deny how intrinsically the two characters are tied together. Really can't have Starscream without Megatron, which is unfortunate for someone like me who does not like drawing Megatron lol!

Maybe the reason most Starscream fans dont like Megatron is because of their abusive relationship? And let's be clear, due to the power imbalance, I do interpret it as an abusive relationship. Despite how much we like to joke that Starscream deserves the punishment he gets (I'm not entirely sure how attempted murder/political assassination attempts factor into an abuse allegory) no one ACTUALLY deserves to be abused. The fact that Starscream is low key also evil and has done evil things is a separate issue from Megatron's abuse of him, we can hold him accountable for the one while also having sympathy because of the other. For me personally tho? Megatron abusing Starscream doesnt make me dislike the character at all, it's honestly the main draw of the dynamic for me. Maybe I just like to see my blorbos suffer…

The G1 Cartoon Megatron is probably the most fun, and I think this dynamic is the most on the level in terms of Starscream dishing back as much as Megatron gives him. They're all just bullies on the playground, their toxic back and forths feel a lot more slap stick and silly than actual abuse. What makes it work I think is that Megatron is not as crazy powerful as he is in later continuities, and Starscream responds to the abuse like a cartoon villain, immediately bouncing back and plotting his revenge, so it's funny rather than upsetting! I also find it hilarious how Megatron is weirdly nice to all the other Decepticons who aren't Starscream lmao? G1 Cartoon Megatron is a 10/10 for me.

If G1 cartoon's Megatron and Starscream are more on an even playing field, Prime Megatron is like the opposite of that. Prime Megatron is so impossibly powerful it almost feels like no one has a chance against him in a fight, and Prime Starscream is so scrunkly and small it's almost laughable. I think I feel the most pity for Prime Starscream when he gets beat up by Megatron, but he almost always makes up for it by being possibly the most evil of the Starscreams. I like how in the third season, he genuinely seems happy to finally dedicate himself fully to Megatron, but you just know how much he'd been beaten down and broken over and over again to even get to that point. Good for him for trying to get revenge in the sequel series. As for Megatron himself, I think more often than not when I am reading fics I see Prime Megatron in my head, and it's his voice I hear. What can I say, it was the first Transformers show I watched haha. Do I love how his redemption arc was handled? Not particularly, it sorta came out of nowhere, felt really rushed, and he just goes away anyway so we don't even get anything out of it. I like redemption arcs in general, but I don't necessarily think this particular Megatron needed one.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't think the 2005 IDW Megatron deserved one either, only because when it comes to over powered, unstoppable, irredeemably evil Megatrons, this one ranked right up there if we take into consideration everything he did before Dark Cybertron. His redemption does kinda come out of nowhere. But like, idk mang! It's also really fun? Like, Bumblebee carrying him around cuz his pants got blown off is hilarious! Him actually upset at Bumblebee's death and then taking Bumblebee's Autobot badge and putting it on over his own was sweet! Him dealing with the crazy crew of the Lost Light is a lot of fun! And him actually having to confronting and deal with what he's done (and other characters dealing with him dealing with it) is a lot more interesting than just him dying. idk. The comics have been around for years by that point, and passed through the hands of many writers, so if a little handwaving and a little contrivance and a little suspension of disbelief is what is required for us to have an honestly pretty fun take on Megatron, I think I'm okay with that.

I do have one complaint tho, mostly based on content I haven't read yet so take it with a grain of salt. I have been told that the adjacent series to the Lost Light Megatron stuff covers Starscream's side of the story and that it does actually address his abuse at the hands of Megatron. My problem is that apparently (and again I haven't read that far yet so this is just hearsay, but apparently) the writers on the Lost Light Megatron stuff didn't get the memo so while Megatron feels bad for and is working at redemption for all the evil war stuff he did to everyone, the one thing he doesnt regret is apparently his treatment of Starscream? Haha, like come on! on the one hand it's really disappointing to me because id like the catharsis of Megatron’s remorse, but...on the other hand, I guess it's kinda true to life actually. Your abusers are people, and they can change and grow and become better, but it doesnt mean they will ever become better for you. It doesnt mean they will ever apologize or even feel bad for what they did. Maybe theres something to be said about having to move on and heal without that. I guess whether this is a complaint I maintain will depend on how its handled.

I get that some people don't think Megatron should ever get a redemption arch, because he's an abuser, a monster, a tyrant, and an evil warlord, and it's completely fair for your stance to be that he should just be killed and that would be justice. I personally really like continuities that treat him more like just some guy. I think Starscream put it best in 2005 IDW during Megatron's trial when he said Megatron wasn't some political genius or the most gifted strategist. He wasn't even the most evil man. In IDW, Megatron started out as a social advocate from the lower class, and despite the problematic narrative of "the bad guy had a point and just did advocacy wrong/went too far," I think the idea that Megatron kinda got swept up by his own hype and was used by people and powers more devious than he is a compelling one.

Starscream is Starscream, so who knows how much of what he says is true and how much is him lying, but this idea just rings true to me. It humanizes him. If handled well, I'm honestly not opposed to stories redeeming Megatron. I'm also not opposed to stories treating him like the devil and just killing him lol. I love a character that can do both!

Uh uh, what else. Earthspark Megatron is nice, I like him. There's...a bit of cognitive dissonance in trying to reconcile the things he chastises Optimus Prime for and the idea that he still was a ruthless warlord at one point, both of which continue to be left unexplored. Transformers One Megatron is neat, I was worried going in how they would handle the switch from Orion Pax's brother to lets start a 4-6 million year war, but like, I like the way he actually was super okay with accepting his lot in life. Like obviously he didnt like it but he didnt see a point in fighting it, and that adamant complacency as a coping mechanism is what lead to his feelings of rage and betrayal by the end. Also I think its hilarious how much younger he is from all the other Decepticon high command, especially Starscream XD.

I don't think I've read or watched anything else with Megatron in it. Man, I wrote a lot. At the end of the day, Megatron is a good character, I like the role he plays in Transformers, I'm not like actually that interested in him on his own but more what he brings to the table when considering Starscream's character. You can't have one without the other! Do I ship them? No, not really, no more than any other ship. But I'll still read Megastar stuff cuz sometimes you just want to watch two people be toxic and make it hurt so good. I'll always prefer Trine stuff anyway ha! Have fun out there!

#transformers #megatron #starscream #megastar #thoughts on transformers #trigger warning for talks of abuse ig #tw: abuse

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skachacharealsmooth · 3 days ago

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coming on main to say this just bcs i talk more abt sth over here but my ideal sonadow dynamic is soooo situationship coded. sonic will knock on shadow’s door at like 3 am sopping wet scrapes all over his body taco bell in hand stupid smile and shadow will just be like ughhhh fine whatever invite yourself in. they spend a few weeks together in domestic bliss or whatever until shadow notices that sonic’s leg is extra bouncy and his eyes are darting today at breakfast which means he’s gonna leave in the middle of the night off to chaos knows where.

shadow’s version of crashing and leaving is stepping in on sonic’s heroic endeavors but only when the situation is extreme enough to use his Top Secret Government Job as a reason. shadow isn’t using his occupation as an excuse, more so a valid reason to warrant rubbing elbows w sonic and co….and what follows is the most awkward bizarre palpable tension that you can cut through with a knife. like condolences to anyone that is within a 10 mile blast radius of them. when they’re parting ways sonic always says something so out of pocket in love goo goo eyes and shadow will think about it for the next five months nonstop. sonic then shows up on his doorstep and the cycle continues. actually let me expand on why this happens down below

shadow will not tell sonic that he genuinely has feelings for him for a multitude of reasons but the main sparksnotes overarching reason why changes over time. when they’re younger shadow is under the impression that sonic simply can’t be in a long term romantic relationship because he’s incapable. this type of engagement is just his speed and suits his lifestyle perfectly. as they get older, shadow’s opinion slightly shifts in favor of the idea that sonic would never settle down because his appetite to experience everything the world has to offer is greater than his desire to have and maintain in a romantic sense. getting serious is something he doesn’t want turns into getting serious is something he genuinely can’t bring himself to do.

on the other hand, sonic will not tell shadow that he has feelings for him and his reasoning stays the same. and it’s arguably more stupid. sonic is convinced that shadow just isn’t that serious about him. like every time he creeps out of the door in the middle of the night he secretly wishes that shadow will catch him and beg him to stay in this giant confession of love but that would never happen because coming and going is sonic’s thing and who shadow sees in between their meetings is none of his business. if he was that serious then he would confess. when they’re younger sonic fantasizes the doorway scene ending as let me come with you. as they get older, it turns into stay.

#sonic would b the one asking what are we after like 30 years of whatever this is and shadow is gagged because he thought sonic was someone #that didn’t want labels or commitments or whatever #going this hard for cartoon talking animals is insane work but i see it perfectly within my brain #disclaimer that i don’t want to glamorize situationships but then again they are my dolls this is the dollhouse and none of this is real #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonadow #shadsoni #shadow the hedgehog #toxic yaoi win!!!!!#sonic x shadow generations

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venuslarkspur · 1 day ago

Note

Personal headcanon of mine that would like to share. Batsis!Reader was personally blessed by Aphrodite when she was little and it's why she can add to her growing harem without much struggle

Cassandra during a family meeting: Do you guys ever wonder how Batsis!Reader can get anyone, no matter the age difference, hero and villain, to hook up/date her?

Jason watching Batsis get flirted on by Roy for like the millionth time: Only god knows Cass. Only God knows.

Meanwhile 5-6 year old Batsis on the Manor's rooftop stargazing with Aphrodite

Aphrodite: You know what? I like you little human. You entertain me, I haven't felt this relaxed and at peace in centuries! And for that, I shall give you my blessing.

Cue Batsis!Reader getting her charisma maxed out and continue skyrocketing even after being maxed out. Also getting a sex drive that lets her sexually keep up with any partner she wanted, basically making her the best hoe out there without a doubt

5-6 year old Batsis: Ok :v

Omg yes, I fw this.

Warning: very minor nsfw but nothing that bad is mentioned, cuss words, mentions of addiction, not proofread.

Like Batsis is semi aware of her talents and charms and also has SOME control over them, but sometimes she can meet some dickheads who try and gain her attention after she’s madeit clear she doesn’t want them.

How some of the JL are charmed

- I feel like Diana is partly aware of this connection between Batsis and Aphrodite and that’s how Diana for the most part hasn’t surrendered to her charm. Diana just loves her for her for the most part.

- John Stewart is unique, he fell in love with Batsis for much more than just her beauty but rather how she conducts herself as a person, these two are my faves.

- Barry Allen pre his marriage with Iris did find Batsis attractive and very charming, though I imagine at this time she’s dating someone else. So nothing becomes of this despite Batsis knowing she could have him if she wanted.

- Zatanna and Batsis have always been flirty with each other, they charm each other quite easily, they are either besties or girlfriends there’s no in between, the two of them and John sometimes throuple as well so take that as you will.

- Hal Jordan was easy work, he was putty the day he met Batsis. This was in the early days when Batsis definitely wanted to piss off Bruce, so why not solidity it by not only sleeping with and dating his colleague but also the colleague he can’t stand the most.

- Yeah the vast majority are just immediately drawn to her beauty and grace. She’s matching all of their freak.

——————

- But if we are talking about Villains, Deathstroke is one of her past; he was an easy bag she didn’t even have to pull out any tricks. But when she gets a bit older and matures more she stops their dynamic immediately.

- For some crack however Batsis has contemplated how funny it would be if she married Ra’s Al Ghul, like Damian having to address her as grandmother? Bruce literally having a seizure if he finds out. This thought is extinguished IMMEDIATELY however. Although she does like a challenge and wonders if her talents on him would work.

——————

This girl struggles to find an end game that truly loves her, she’s had a few who have came and gone but never imagined someone she could call her romantic soulmate (bc we know Dick is her platonic soulmate!!), but if it had to be anyone it would be Roy. They’ve been through so much struggle together that eventually they would work out, Roy gets insecure and wonders if she could do better considering the men and women of her past he’s been podiumed with.

- Batsis had made the mistake of leaving him when they were younger over the pressure getting to her, like Lian coming along, his addiction, Ollie just being a shit mentor for the most part, but Batsis really calms down with her gift if she gets serious (even if she can’t control it 70% of the time), she finally has found something good and will stick to it. Yeah he was a nasty dog when they were teenagers but when they are older he just sees the only one (besides Dinah, Dick and Jason) who stuck by him.

My lord this got sort of angsty but yeah. She’s a girl blessed.

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rafesthroatbaby · 3 days ago

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That bodyguard of yours…” …. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

„Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level.“

i swear she is me ?!! cause that’s what I’d throw at him as well 😭😭 look at her than look at ME?!! the fuckkkkk go bleach your eyes Loool

„Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

„Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

„I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.”

„Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

ok this action alone would send me over the edge all over 😵‍💫😮‍💨 him mocking you ? Different level of HOTTTT & no safeword daddy 😌 yours however to use

“I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

„I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,”

Omggg another one 😋 like don’t stop lolll 🥲 the way I would beg him is unreal

if y’all haven’t read this already- start y’all day right with some bodyguard!rafe 💦 first of all I love their dynamic SO MUCH !! he became one of my favs 🤤 need him fucking bad, he’s so sexy 🤭 like I’d have the exact same bratty behavior, prob even worse cause look at the outcome.. DELICIOUS. the way he put her in place is everything & that gun work hellooo 🪦 and also… look at my baby doing the devils work 👅 ended 24‘ with a loud bang 👏🏼 I’m so proud of you cause you’ve been eating it up since the day I came across your page, couldn’t be more grateful 💕

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣’𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟’ 𝔼𝕧𝕖 - ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕥

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, angst, fighting, rough touch, kissing, degradation, name calling, possessive!rafe, jealous!reader, protective!rafe, rough oral male receiving, gunplay, spanking, overstim, cum licking (floor), choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, teasing, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, ownership kink, brat taming, no safe words

from this au if you want to read about the night they got together 🌹

📖 the reader has been secretly dating her bodyguard. During her NYE performance, she learned she’s not the only one he crossed the line with.

⭐ unedited ⭐

Reader's POV:

The backstage area is a whirlwind of costumes, stagehands, producers, and backup dancers. You eye yourself in the mirror, body hugged in a glittering black bodysuit with thousands of sequins that catch every stray light beam.

You should be basking in the excitement of a childhood dream come true—after all, millions of viewers are about to watch you perform a duet on New Year's Rockin’ Eve. But the second she walked inside, any excitement you might have felt went out the window.

Bella Dean.

She's the diva you're supposed to share the big closing number with: petite, curvy, absolutely stunning. Her talent is almost as big as her ego.

Bella’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “Look at you, baby,” she coos, sashaying up to you, flashing a smile that makes your stomach flip. “You okay? You look a little sick?” She asks, pouting her lip, her tone almost demeaning; clearly commenting on your appearance and not the state of your health–just being a fuckin’ bitch.

You fake a smile as your pulse spikes. “Sick?” You ask through a breathy laugh as you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Ill? Not feeling well? Under the weather? You don’t know what sick is?” She asks, returning a nasty laugh.

“I feel just fine. Thanks for your concern,” you reply, your face twisting slightly.

"Of course," she purrs. "I think my makeup girl’s around here somewhere… Maybe it’s just because you look a little dull. I’m sure she has some highlighter or something to add a little sparkle,” she adds a little extra sweetness to her voice at the end, her cruelty making you feel like you could lose your mind as you try to remain professional. Your fingers tighten around your microphone as you try to focus on what’s coming next instead of the 5’2” nightmare beside you.

She steps out just before your cue, hitting the stage first, looking back at you with a wink and a smug smile you wish you could hurl your mic at her face.

You take a calming breath, reminding yourself that this will be a few minutes. You have a whole night ahead of you to look forward to. A night with him… Rafe stands off to the side, looking devilishly handsome in his all-black suit. He folds his arms over his broad chest, looking into the crowd, eyes trailing the space as usual.

You turn back to Bella, your eyes finding hers, her ruby-red lips curling into a wicked smile, making a knot of unease tighten in your belly. She quirks her eyebrow, stepping closer; too close for your liking. “That bodyguard of yours…” she says, tipping her head toward Rafe, making her platinum blonde curls bounce. “I haven’t seen him in a minute.”

You fiddle with your microphone, trying to seem as unbothered as possible, but she sees right through you.

“Rafe?” She chirps, making your eyebrows shoot up as his name leaves her lips effortlessly. “Mhmm… Rafey. Ugh, don’t tell me he didn’t mention me,” she tosses her hair to the side. “I’m sure he had an interview. That wasn’t brought up?”

You purse your lips, look out toward the crowd, and try to distract yourself.

“Don’t tell anyone, but we did get a little cozy on my last tour,” she leans in, giddily gossiping like she’s talking to a friend, but we both know what she’s doing. How unprofessional of me, right?” she chides as she smiles out to the crowd, giving them her million-dollar smile before blowing them a kiss.

You feel your body tremble as the adrenaline of the night and this admittance courses through your veins. Rafe did mention he’d once made a mistake by getting involved with a past client, but he never mentioned a name–her name. You swallow hard, clearing the lump in your throat as your mind starts spinning out, thinking of what the two must have done behind closed doors.

“That doesn’t sound like Rafe,” you assure.

“So you didn’t know. Ouch.” She flicks her gaze toward him again. “Doesn’t sound like you’re working the man to his full potential.”

You bite your cheek, lips tightening as you try to hold back your outburst. “Well, if you are and you don’t kiss and tell, just know he has a habit of getting too close. I just want you to be careful,” she pouts again, her voice like nails on a fucking chalkboard as the band starts to play around you.

And with that, she glides away, leaving you breathless and seething as she walks to the front of the stage. Your cheeks burn as you glance at Rafe from the wings. He catches your eyes with a concerned expression–the man no doubt reading your emotion like a book. Even though he has no idea what the fuck just happened, he knows something’s off with you. His eyebrows pinch together, beautiful features hardening.

Bella and Rafe? I can’t fuckin’ handle this right now.

The crowd roars excitedly as Bella’s voice pours out of the speakers. Your heart bangs with the opening beats of the song. You look toward the camera as it pans to you, forcing a smile. Your voice wavers as your anxiety gets the better of you–Bella looking toward the wings at Rafe as well, painting a picture of what their exchanges might have looked like in the past, her stealing little glances at him from center stage instead of you.

The lights sweep over you, and the first note leaves your lips. Your muscles tighten as the pitch wavers, just a hair off, but it’s enough for Bella to shoot a look back at you. Your stomach aches, heartbreaking, as you feel yourself starting to fumble while Bella shines. You push harder–the melodies leaving your lips sounding anything but natural.

Bella steps forward, delivering her verse perfectly, making the crowd scream. Her eyes twinkle as she passes you, making your blood boil. You lose track of the music for a split second, coming in a beat too late, making the blonde smirk in your peripheral vision. Fucking cunt.

You take a deep breath with the guitar break, straining to gather your emotions, trying to remind yourself of the night and how you’ll hate yourself if you let her ruin it for you. You turn toward her, melting your voices together in perfect harmony. The tension between you is thick, but it doesn’t read that way–the crowd, eating up every second of the duet.

The music cuts and the crowd goes wild. Bella moves toward you for the planned hug, but you step away and wave to the crowd. As she waves, you feel her arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in for a half-hug. Bella leans in, looking up at you, feigning concern. “You were a bit shaky. Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” you hiss through a gritted smile to the crowd.

She gasps surprisedly before resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t be upset, babes. Let me know if you are ever in the market for a new bodyguard. I always find the best ones,” she winks. “Have a happy New Year.”

You resist the urge to run, walking off the stage gracefully before storming toward your manager, taking your purse off her hands before snapping your focus to Rafe. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was Bella you messed around with, huh?” You hiss, quiet enough to meet his ears only as you glare at him.

“This isn’t the right place,” he warns as he looks through you even still, eyes scanning the crowd.

“No, Rafe,” you snap. “This is the perfect fucking place. I just found out about your little fling from Bella. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Rafe steps closer, looking you in the eyes, making you draw a little breath. “Not now.”

“Forget it,” you scoff, and before he can stop you, you flee the scene, disappearing into the thick crowd of backstage traffic. You walk through the double doors, looking to the left at the long line of dressing rooms before taking a risk, pushing through the side door.

The winter wind whips as you walk through the tight, dark alley, heels clicking against the asphalt with each step as you head toward the main street. Fans and paparazzi push in around you, yelling your name, but you keep your head down, pushing ahead.

You look down the block, knowing your hotel is close, but how close? You shove through the thick crowd, still waiting to get into the venue. The middle of the road is packed, too, with a barrage of people gathered, waiting for the ball to drop. You lift your eyes for a moment. Halfway there… You cross your arms tighter around your waist, trying to keep warm while holding yourself back from answering the phone vibrating like crazy in your purse.

Silence.

You sigh in relief as you walk into the swanky downtown hotel. The noise behind you falls away. The lobby's hush and glamor starkly contrast what’s happening on the other side of the revolving door—velvet chairs, marble floors, and the soft golden glow of chandeliers hanging overhead.

You draw a deep breath and blow it out slowly, looking to your left. Your head hangs with mental exhaustion as you step toward the hotel bar, pushing through the door before heading toward the rail.

You order your drink, asking for a double, hearing your voice tremble with anger and stress. You stare at your reflection in the barback's mirror, your makeup perfectly done, stage outfit on; your hairstyle to perfection, but that was just a facade. You felt far from perfect underneath–completely broken.

Rafe seems so poised and professional. It was so hard to break his icy exterior…

As childish as it sounds, you felt special. He seemed so untouchable that when you were able to break through, you felt like maybe there was something different about you.

He didn’t seem like someone who would sleep with his clients, and now you can’t help but think just how many people he had took care of like he was taking care of you.

Bella… What if it wasn’t special, though? What if it was just a one-time thing–a fling, and Bella was trying to get in your head? You grab your drink, lifting it to your lips, downing half of it fast, letting it sear your throat, trying to numb your thoughts.

She wanted this to happen. You hated yourself for letting her affect you the way she did. The truth is, she saw you fall apart in front of her, catching every missed step and note; each misstep was a win for her.

The bar is quiet, the low roar of the New Year’s celebration humming outside. The soft jazz piano swells in the background, paired with the soft conversations of the guests dressed to the nines. No one bats an eye at your arrival; no one asks for anything from you, letting you sit for a moment and breathe.

“Sir!” You hear the shrill call of someone from the lobby. A sudden commotion on the other side of the door pulls you out of your peace as Rafe storms in. He looks down at his phone, eyes scanning from left to right. Your heart falls as he zeros in on you, his nostrils flaring with anger, contrasting with the look of relief in his striking blue eyes.

He sucks his teeth, holding himself back from cursing you out on sight. His Gucci suit jacket is half undone, his toffee-colored hair mussed, and his sharp jaw is set in a straight line. He looks fuckin’ angry, completely winded, like he's been fighting through thick crowds, going to Hell and back to get to you. Good. Let him be angry. Why should I have to suffer alone?

Rafe makes a beeline for you, his long legs crossing the room in a few strides. The bartender walks over, asking how he can serve him, his voice quickly fading as he sees the look in Rafe’s eyes. Your bodyguard thumbs through his wallet, slapping $100 on the counter before grabbing your arm.

“We’re leaving,” he hisses, tugging you off the barstool. You gasp, your unfinished drink sloshing onto the floor as he steers you back toward the exit.

You yank your arm back, disregarding the curious glances around you, shooting daggers at your brooding bodyguard. “You don’t get to boss me around right now,” you hiss as you fight him off, but it only makes his fingers twist a little tighter around your arm.

“Once wasn’t enough?” He snarls.

“Spare me the lecture,” you sass. “M’not in the mood for you —fuckin’ drama queen.”

Rafe leans in, his warm breath hitting your skin as he pulls you toward the elevator. “Do you have any fucking idea how reckless that was? Runnin’ out there alone on the busiest night of the year? In the busiest city? Are you insane? And you’re alone-”

“Did I look alone?” You snap as you lift what’s left of your drink. “Didn’t pour this shit myself,” you laugh tauntingly before shooting it back.

He scoffs annoyedly as his grip on you tightens even more. “So you’d rather run away and have somethin’ awful happen to you, risk my whole fuckin’ career than talk to me about what you found out?”

“Correct,” you clip. “Now, let go of me.”

“Let’s make a deal, tough girl. You can get outta my fuckin’ grip, then you can go. I happen to like you... I’m not some insane stalker who wants to wear your fuckin’ skin. Aight? It ain’t safe out there for you, and for some reason, you think that your best option is to run,” he hisses as he bangs his fist against the up button.

The elevator door glides shut, leaving the two of you alone. You both stand next to each other, seething for different reasons. Rafe tosses your arm away when you fight against him one last time, making you push out an exaggerated breath.

Elevator music fills the space around you, so light and cheery it’s almost satirical at the moment. You stand side to side with your bodyguard, arms crossed over your chests, both of you waiting for the other to break.

“You have no right-”

“Run off again, and I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he cuts you off.

“You wouldn't be mad? Really?”

“‘Course I would be. I'd be fuckin’ irritate, but I’d wait ‘til I got back to the hotel to say somethin’ like a fuckin’ adult. Not run away like a goddamn child-”

“I’m not-”

“A child,” he cuts you short, finishing your sentence as he turns toward you, his voice low and lethal. “You’re not a fuckin’ kid. Aight? You’re a grown-ass woman. Start actin’ like it before you get yourself hurt.”

You turn toward his chest, too, and look up into his eyes, not backing down. “You told me you once crossed a line with a client but never said it was her. She wasn't even mentioned on your resume, Rafe. Why was that?” You ask breathily, letting your defiance and disgust bleed through.

“That shit doesn't change the fact that that was a bad decision, princess,” he returns your same tone, that term of endearment he loves to use coming out as anything but endearing.

“Let’s talk about good decisions, Rafe. Her? I'm questioning you and your fuckin’ taste level. Bella is a cunt. It would have been nice to know this before sharing the stage with her so I could have been prepared for her bullshit instead of being blindsided and ruining that moment for myself.”

“Ruining your moment? What the hell are you talking about?” He asks in disbelief. “Your performance was perfect.”

“The fuck it was, Rafe,” you scoff as you step out of the elevator without him. “Your performance was perfect,” you mock him. “Bella’s performance was perfect, Rafe… And tomorrow, when there’s a review on Rolling Stone, maybe you’ll get it through your thick fuckin’ head.”

Rafe runs his fingers through his hair; frustration etched into every line on his handsome face. “Baby,” he mumbles as he softens his tone and closes the space between you and him. “I screwed up by not tellin’ you before tonight. M’sorry. But you can’t keep runnin’ off when you’re mad. I’m your bodyguard; I have to protect you whether you like me or not.”

You wave your keycard in front of the door handle, rolling your eyes at his apology, if you could even call it that. “Well, Rafe… Maybe you should be better at protecting your secrets,” you grumble, going to shut the door behind you, but Rafe clutches it tight, pushing against you with minimal effort, making you growl in frustration. You toss your clutch onto the sofa, kick off your heels in protest, and rip off your earrings for dramatic effect.

"You lied by omission, Rafe. You said you 'made a mistake' once with a client but never told me it was Bella. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?”

He sighs as he strips himself of his jacket, tossing it off before loosening his tie. “Jesus Christ, baby. I was gonna tell you. Just not right before you had to perform with her."

"How considerate,” you breathe, your sarcasm palpable, making his cheeks flush with anger.

“Bella is toxic-”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“She'll do anythin’ to get under your skin-” he starts.

“Jesus, Rafe! Tell me something I don’t fuckin’ know!”

“I screwed up with her, yes… But do you know how long ago that was? That was at the start of my career. I was still tryin’ to figure shit out. I was young-”

“So, is this a serial thing for you, Cameron? Or am I an exception?” You ask, with a lifted brow as you pop open a bottle of De Venoge Louis, eyes shifting over to him. “Just another one of your favorite pop stars?”

“Enough,” he groans tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he paces the room. “You know that's not how I see you… You gotta stop.”

“And how do you see me?” You ask. “I know how I see you…” You mutter, foregoing the glasses altogether, lifting the bottle to your lips instead.

“Not gonna tell you how I feel right now.”

“What the hell does that mean,” you laugh, dribbling champagne on your chin as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in confusion.

“Because you’re actin’ irrational. This is not the time.”

“Stop telling me that it’s not the time, Rafe. Oh my god,” you whine, voice brimming with frustration.

“I get that you’re upset,” he scolds. “But runnin’ off into the city alone after a show and putting yourself at risk like that over Bella Dean was fuckin’ stupid, regardless, and you know that. Come back here… And lose your shit. Hell, you’re yellin’ at me right fuckin’ now. Only difference is you’re safe.”

“Sorry for makin’ you do your job, Rafe.”

He nods his head, a look in his eyes like he’s going absolutely insane. He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexed, looking like it could tear the fabric apart. “N’to be clear. Chasin’ you is my job?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t at the job interview… Not quite sure what your scope of work was, but I assume the details of your job didn’t include sleepin’ with me either-”

“You’re begging for trouble, you know that?” He shouts, his loud voice hitting your chest hard, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

“M’Terrified,” you giggle, trying to hide your nervousness as your heart rate starts to climb. His eyes narrow on yours–a mix of anger and something darker.

He walks over, looking down at you perched on the velvet lounge chair. You gasp as his hand comes around your throat, his grip tightening and tightening. He lifts you to your feet, pulling you chest to chest. “Keep talkin’ back and see what the fuck happens.”

You look at him with dead eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his threats, letting your eyes roll in the back of your head. Rafe tightens his grip a little more, making you sputter out a breath.

“Keep rollin’ those eyes at me, too, while we’re at it,” he growls. “You think I won’t give you a lesson?”

Adam's apple bobs in his throat, lip snarling as you refuse to submit. Rafe yanks you forward, crushing his lips against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. You go to shove him away, but his fingers find your hair, twisting into the strands, tugging you closer, forcing you in place. The air leaves your lungs as he shoves you into the wall, never breaking your kiss.

When he finally tears his lips away, you’re both breathless, chests heaving, longing for more.

“You’re fuckin’ impossible,” he rasps, blue eyes blazing with lust, his rasp voice taut and hoarse. “Run off, you don’t fuckin’ listen, and then you come back here and pick stupid fuckin’ fights, spoutin’ off shit we both know ain’t true.”

“Maybe you deserve it, Rafe. Did you ever think about that-” Rafe silences you with another kiss–more longing and possessive than the last. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him into your lips.

Rafe breaks away again, leaving you chasing his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you panting into each other, desperate for more.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispers, voice vibrating with tension. “Next time you try this shit, just know I’ll chase you down. Next time you roll your fuckin’ eyes at me, I’ll pin you where you stand. You can’t keep doin’ this shit without consequences.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, pussy pulsing as you listen to all of his threats– his words honestly having the opposite effect. Looks like he’s the one begging for trouble.

“Fuckin’ do it, Rafe,” you dare him, smiling against his lips, “you think I'm scared of you?"

“Think you're braver than you should be, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, Rafey? You gonna punish me?” You ask.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he says, firm and cold, making goosebumps spread across your body. He leans in, pinning you against the wall, pressing his big body into you. Rafe kisses along your neck, teeth scraping your ear. “Don’t even think we have a safe word. Do you?” He asks, and you can hear that crooked smile in his voice.

“N-No,” you whisper, trying to recall, but you honestly don’t think you could at this moment, the way his body surrounds you, his rich cologne clouding your senses completely.

“Shit, baby… Guess you’re outta luck.” You gasp as he picks you up off your feet, slinging your body over his shoulder. “Maybe if you start behaving-” Crack! He slaps your upper thigh harshly, making you scream. “Maybe we can think of one together, hmm?”

Rafe throws you down on the bed, making the last bit of air in your lungs escape. He strips himself out of his button-down shirt, quickly working himself out of his pants before tossing his belt and gun onto the bed.

“Wh-What are you gonna do with those?” You ask, hearing your voice tremble.

Rafe clears the space between you, lowering his hands on the mattress as you look wide-eyed at him.

“Aww, princess… You know me. I love leavin’ out little details,” he smiles wickedly.

Rafe grabs the front of your bodysuit, tearing the delicate material open effortlessly, sending rhinestones and beads flying onto the bed and the hardwood floor as he tears away the custom piece without batting an eye. He pulls the material down your thighs, tossing it to the floor before grabbing your hips, manhandling you to your belly on the bed, your ass in the air, and your feet on the floor.

“FUCK!” You scream as his big hand comes down, slapping your bare ass, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Before you can even react, he does it a second time, then a third, making tears pool in your eyes and wetting the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“The fuck was that, tough girl?” He asks through a breathless laugh.

“I-I… Fuck you,” you whimper, trying to stand strong. Rafe grabs a fistful of hair, yanking you back, his head lowered to match your eyes.

“Fuck me? You told me to do this shit, baby girl… You’re the boss. I’m just doin’ my job.” Rafe uses his hold on your hair to push your face into the mattress, pushing two thick fingers into your soaked core. “Listen up, princess,” Rafe huffs. “You deserve this. I’m not gonna put up with this shit, aight? You’re lucky I’m even fuckin’ touchin’ you.” Rafe pumps his fingers in your pussy, finger-fucking you mercilessly as you try your best to wiggle away. “Stop squirmin’,” he chides. “Hands behind your fuckin’ back.”

The second you do, Rafe grips the against your lower back, the palm of his hand clapping against your ass as he fingers stroke your G-spot. Your thighs start to tremble, pussy tightening around his big fingers. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” He taunts.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Think it’ll fix that little attitude of yours?”

“Yes, fuck!” You cry.

“I’m not sure it will…” Rafe sighs sadly. “I’ll let you cum tonight. But I swear if this shit happens again. M’not… Not until you’re at my hotel door beggin’ and cryin’ for my dick like a whore.” Rafe pulls his hands out of your soaked cunt, slapping your pussy fast and tough, making you cum hard, sobbing as your pussy flutters around nothing, your hands still pinned tightly against your back. Rafe fucks his fingers into your cunt, darting them inside you at an insane pace, and seconds later, you’re coming again, pussy gushing around his hand, landing on the floor with a little splash.

And even then, he doesn’t stop, his fingers just sopping through the mess as you fight against him, crying in overstimulation and pleasure. “Rafe, please. Please. Please.”

“What?” He spits.

“I-I… Mphff… Safe… Safeword,” you hiccup.

He booms out a laugh. Drawing both his hands back in surrender. Completely mocking you and the mess he made of his favorite girl. “You’re kiddin’ me?” He teases as he rests his hands on the bed, lowering himself to your ear, his chest brushing against your bare back. “Safeword?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you pant. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jeopardizing my job, your life, our fuckin’ relationship over a bitch then means nothin’ to me. That’s the least you should be,” Rafe scolds as he grabs your hips, rolling you to your back.

You look between your thighs, eyes following Rafe as he reaches for his gun. He lifts it, making a show of it, eyeing the weapon in his hand. Your eyes fall down his body, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with his rapid breathing, his gold chain glinting in the dim. The ridges of his abs deepen with every level breath, his hard cock tenting out the fabric of his white Calvins, leaving you craving him even more.

He clicks on the safety, lifting the gun, pointing it at your pussy, slapping the piece against your inner thighs. “Spread your shit,” he mumbles. You widen your thighs on the mattress, your glossy cunt dripping with your arousal. Rafe presses the cool muzzle against your pulsing clit, making your muscles jump and your thighs drawn in. “I said ‘spread your shit,’” he shouts, making you flinch. “What’s it gonna take for you to listen? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I-”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Daddy,” he mocks your fucked-out voice again. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Rafe repeats your words from the fight as he starts to rub little figure eights on your clit. Your body trembles with adrenaline as he continues to work you over with his handgun. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. “You gonna cum… off a gun? You that big of a slut, princess? You don’t even need a dick?” Rafe mumbles, and right when you’re about to fall apart below him, he pulls it away, leaving you whimpering and fussing for more, your bottom lip wobbling as you look up into your boyfriend’s beautiful, cruel eyes.

“Rafe, you’re being mean…” You whisper, your voice barely above a hush. “I said, ‘I was sorry’.”

“And, I told you not to run away again… N’look what happened. Get on your knees.”

You climb off the bed, stumbling slightly from your weak knees. You land on the floor, crawling the rest of the way to Rafe, glassy-eyed and pouty-lipped. You kneel before him, watching as Rafe lifts the gun slightly, mirroring his dick, the tip of it coated with your slick.

“Suck it.”

Your heart starts to race as you look down the barrel of the gun. You look up at Rafe as you wrap your lips around the end of it, feeling your heart bang in your chest.

You take the cold metal to the back of your throat, taking as much as you can get, gagging around his weapon, sucking it clean, bobbing back and forth with your eyes on him. Rafe looks down at you hungrily, desperately wanting your lips on him and giving him the same service.

“Take ‘em off,” Rafe mumbles, and you slide your wet lips off the gun, racing to pull down his boxers fast. And without warning, he shoves himself in your mouth, pushing as far as his dick would go making you sputter and gag. You reach out, grabbing his tights, squeezing tightly, losing all vision as your eyes fill with tears.

You blink your tears away as he slides in and out of your swollen lips, grunting and moaning, using your mouth like a toy. The sounds around you were downright pornographic, making your pussy weep down your thighs. Your mouth leaked as well, saliva and precum dripping out of the seam.

Rafe finally pulls you off his cock, leaving you gasping for a breath. Before he can give you a command, you wrap your lips around him again in a desperate attempt for mercy, swirling and sucking him off just like he loves. You cradle his heavy balls in your hand, and he throats his hand back to the ceiling, a broad smile spreading on his perfect lips. “Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he praises.

You bob your head back and forth, stroking where your mouth won’t reach, trying desperately to please him. You can feel his cock throb and swell on your tongue, his breathing quickening by the second.

“Better swallow it all, princess, or we’re gonna be back at square one,” he mumbles, only half-kidding. He looks down at you, watching you throat him with all you have, his plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Rafe pulls out of your mouth, jerking his cock in your face as you lay out your tongue. His warm cum shoots out of his tip, coating your lips and tongue. Your eyes flutter open as you swallow it all, licking your lips to clean up the rest of the mess as you look up at him.

He clicks his tongue, letting his gaze fall, eyeing a few loose pearls of cum decorating the floor. You rest your hands on the hardwood, lowering yourself to lick it up.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he looks down at you in lust and adoration. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you off the floor and into his strong arms. You wrap yourself in his, dressing your arms around his neck as his lips press against yours for a tender kiss.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he soothes. “No more punishments. Alright? You took that shit like a good girl. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me… This right here—this is what I’ve been wantin’ to do all night.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, pecking at his lips.

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckles as he lays you down on the bed, burying himself in his neck before kissing his way up to your ear. “Just wanted to take care of you. Make you feel good. Hard to think about much else when I see you up there. Can barely focus on keepin’ you safe when I’m just thinkin’ about fuckin’ this perfect pussy,” he mumbles as he slaps his tip against your clit.

Rafe slides his cock between your drenched folds, swirling his head around your hole before sinking in deep, bottoming you out with his long, thick dick. You grab two fistfuls of sheets as he grabs your hips in his big ringed hands, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in.

“So good, baby… Fuck. Damn, you look so good takin’ my cock,” he moans as he starts rutting in and out. You couldn’t even get a word out with the way his dick was slamming in and out of your pussy.

Your eyes roll back in your head, boobs bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you go absolutely dumb on his dick. Rafe speeds up the pace, making your body tremble uncontrollably. Tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks, wetting the pillow below. Rafe reaches down, brushing them away with his thumbs, slipping one between your lips to let you suck yourself numb as he drills into you.

“Come on, princess,” Rafe hums as he feels your body start to tighten around him. “Cream all over my cock. Show me what a good girl does, huh? Let me fill you up. Been so good for me,” he groans as he reaches down, rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as the coil in your belly gets tighter and tighter.

You scream his name, cumming all over his big cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. Rafe gives you a few more rough thrusts, emptying his load deep inside as his hungry lips devour yours, swallowing your whimpers and cries.

“You okay, baby?” He asks sweetly against your lips.

“M’perfect, Rafe,” you coo.

“You are,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “You mad at me still?” Rafe asks as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

“No,” you whisper. “Can’t stay mad at you, baby.”

“Mhmm… I know the feelin’,” he laughs. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. You snag your phone out of your nightstand, pulling out your phone, seeing back-to-back messages from your manager.

Claire Baby: Rafe said you were ok. Stop running away. Thnx.

Claire Baby: Rafe mentioned that there was a history between him and Bella

Claire Baby: I told him to save it til after the show so it didn’t fuck with your chemistry

Claire Baby: I had no idea she was such a bitch. I’m sorry. Pls Forgive me.

“Rafe Cameron,” you sigh.

“Mhmm…” He asks as he pulls out of your pussy nice and slow, watching his warm cum leak out of your puffy hole, swirling his fingers around before stuffing it back inside.

“Rafe…”

“What?” He asks as he tilts his head slightly, lifting his fingers for you to suck them clean. You wrap your lips around his fingers, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you tried to say something?” You ask softly as you look back up at him.

“‘Cause I deserved it… Shoulda told you from the start,” he answers. “No more secrets…”

“No more running,” you whisper.

You roll your head to the side, catching the time on the clock. 11:58 PM… Rafe kisses your cheek lovingly, wrapping his big body in yours. “How do you see me, Rafe,” you ask softly, pulling his focus back to your eyes. He brushes your hair off your face, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Well, when I see you, I see the future. I see my dream girl. I see the only thing I want to see.”

You bite your lips, fluttering your lashes, the night's emotions getting the better of you.

“I see the woman that I love, princess.”

“You love me?” You whisper, voice laced with tears.

Rafe pulls you into his lips as the world outside the window roars with the new year, the clock striking midnight as your lips meet, your bodies tangled in sheets.

“Of course I love you, baby,” he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

#fic recs #rafescvntyclubgf #rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafecore #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #💦💦💦💦

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sweetestberryofthebunch · 2 days ago

Text

Wandavision Double Feature (Agatha Harkness x f!reader)

Part I: And … Action!

Part II: Slice Of Life

In this Episode it is the 60s and the more you settle into the idyllic housewife lifestyle, the more tension between you and Agatha rises. You finally get a taste of what you crave.

Content/Warnings: Imbalanced power dynamic, Agatha has a dubious moral compass, Alcohol consumption, Smut, Hair Pulling, Mommy kink, Praise kink, Corruption Kink low key, Oral fixation, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Dom!Agatha (for now), does the Hex count as Housewife Roleplay? This whole thing is housewife roleplay.

Tags: @chiar4anna <3

I was gonna give you angst this week, but then the Big Sad slapped me across the face, so you’re getting soft lovely smutty fantasies first and angst when I stop being a sensitive baby! Until then, enjoy your stay at Sin City! Once again big big big smooch to @msharkness who beta reads for me without complaining, you speed my process up so much you have no idea!

To both yours and Agatha’s delight, you turned out to be quite the natural around the house. Within just a few days, you’d settled into a comfortable routine.

Breakfast always was on Agatha, who was always up before you, slipping past the guest room quietly so as to not wake you up.

When you came downstairs an hour later, hair curled and lips painted what you assumed to be red, the exact way she’d taught you, there were always eggs and bacon, slices of toast and coffee steaming hot already waiting for you. Agatha scrunched her nose up at the amount of sweetener you put into your coffee, and you rolled her eyes at her every time. And maybe you started putting even more sweetener into your coffee just to watch her do that face again, little wrinkles around her eyes as she squinted, upper lips curling as she shook her head. But that was a secret you’d take to the grave.

After you ate, you brought a plate of breakfast down into the dungeon.

It was still … odd to know Ralph was just down there, and if you thought about it too long, a cold shudder went down your spine. But, you brought him fresh food twice a day, and every time you came downstairs you could hear his Xbox running. You never lingered around too long, always rushed back upstairs, where the place smelled of lavender, roses and something simmering on the stove. Wanda had a whole town under mind control, including everyone you knew. A single guy in Agatha’s basement really wasn’t that bad in comparison. Right?

Next off, you fed the bunny. Señor Scratchy seemed to just move around the house freely, although his favourite room was the one deep down in the dungeon, where the Darkhold levitated in the middle of the seven-cornered room with its sculptures of creatures, people and abstract shapes on the walls. And, most days at least, the little furball was munching on kale or carrots in one corner or another. You could only assume the rabbit was also some type of magick, or maybe it was just oblivious to the unsettling energy surrounding the book levitating right in the same room.

By the time you had fed the bunny, Agatha had either left the house to show up wherever Wanda was that day, or she sat in the living room, nose buried in one of her heavy, centuries old books. You shuffled around the house, kept the place clean, made tea for the two of you, and sometimes you tried to focus on one of the books she’d assigned you to read. However, especially when you were in the living room together, focusing on old, handwritten letters on yellow paper proved quite difficult. And it had less to do with the difficulties of outdated language and everything with the entire situation: Agatha lounging on the couch with her feet kicked up on the coffee table, wide skirts pooling around her, dark hair pinned back behind her ears, brows always slightly furrowed when she was focussing.

Why read about ages old legends when you could be looking at her instead?

There hadn’t been a conversation about the other night, but … something was different ever since you returned from your first little stake out. She kept you on your toes, made you jump when she suddenly brushed up against you, let her hands linger on your hip, or your lower back, and sometimes even your cheek or neck.

When she left the house she always called „See you later, honey!“, towards wherever in the house you were bustling around. And every night when she returned, she announced herself with a wholehearted „Honey, I‘m home!“

While the housewife role wasn’t something you had ever planned for in your future, you proved to be quite the natural. Or at least, Agatha made you feel like you were. She never missed a chance to comment on how nice it was that someone kept the place clean, how much she enjoyed dinner, how lovely it was to see your face when Wanda had dragged her to meet with the other wives again. That one almost made you drop the fork of food halfway to your mouth already, and you quickly feigned a coughing fit, face burning hot as you stared down at your plate, anywhere but right at her. In hindsight, you couldn’t tell whether the foot grazing up your calf was real or pure imagination.

You quickly learned that Agatha had a sweet tooth. Whenever you had the time to bake, whole trays of cookies or pies would disappear at a rapid pace, never surviving much more than three days. On Saturday night, after Wanda had kept her busy especially late with some dinner plans Agatha refused to explain to you, you came downstairs to find Agatha sat on the floor in front of the open fridge, rollers in her hair, a silk robe over her nightdress, eating a plum pie you‘d made right from the tray. There was an open bottle of red wine behind her on the kitchen counter.

„I was saving that for tomorrow you know“, you commented, and her head shot up in surprise, eyes wide for a millisecond before she realized it was just you, and her signature smirk returned to her lips.

„I guess you’ll have to make more tomorrow then“, her bottom lip pushed forward in a mocking pout, „That’s too bad!“ For a moment you just held her eye contact, watching the act slowly leave her face, until she was smirking

With a roll of your eyes you walked over, sitting down cross legged on the cool kitchen floor beside her.

„Good girl“, she hummed, and it was fleeting, rolling off her tongue as casually as a greeting. But you felt your heart do a leap in your chest, biting down on your bottom lip hard.

Agatha handed you the wine bottle, her thigh brushing up against yours, and as you took a large sip, she filled her fork up with whipped cream and pie crust. When she turned to you instead of eating it herself, you almost choked on the bitter liquor on your tongue. Pressing your lips together to suppress a cough, you swallowed, wide eyes staring at the fork in front of you and then at her.

Her brows wandered up, tilting her head to the sight ever so slightly. „Come on, honey“, she purred, and you felt her voice echo through your entire body, „Open up.“

For a moment, you just stared at her, wide eyed, your heart fluttering in your chest. You‘d never been more grateful that your thoughts were completely unavailable to her, because the ideas flashing through your mind were way too intimate, way too inappropriate. But then again, you were far from normal circumstances.

Your lips parted and she pushed the fork past them, never once tearing her eyes from your lips as you closed them around the metal, tasting cream and cinnamon and plum on your tongue. She pulled the fork out of your mouth way slower than necessary, watching every inch of it, her own lips parting. You felt her breath on your face, surprised by how hot the gentle gush of air hit your cheek. And when you swallowed, you felt her eyes on your throat, watching the exposed skin move, dipping lower to where nothing but flimsy fabric covered you up.

„A-“

“Shhh“, a hand on your cheek, fingers hooking underneath your chin to force you to look up at her. As if you wanted to look anywhere else right now.

„Silence, honey“, she breathed, tilting your head to one side, and then to the other. You weren’t sure if she was actually scanning your face or just seeing if you would let her. Which, of course, you did. You melted like soft butter under her touch, letting her shape you in any way she pleased. The realisation almost scared you.

A soft little sound left Agatha’s lips, a hum so quiet, if you hadn’t felt it against your skin, you probably would have missed it. She was so, so close, her face almost blurred before you. Her eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was a little twinkle in her gaze, the idea of something wicked. If only you‘d lean in one more inch—

Her lips were on yours. She was soft, so endlessly soft, and she fit perfectly against the curve of your own lips. A surprised gasp left your mouth, slipping right into hers. The world was spinning, one blur of black, white and endless shades of grey. If it wasn’t for your hand finding her shoulder, you would have lost any sense of direction. Up, down, left, right, none of it mattered. Not right now. Not with her lips on yours, with the taste of plum on your tongue, your fingers digging into the thin fabric of her nightgown, pulling her closer.

A low moan left her lips, you felt the sound vibrate against your lips. You gasped, and Agatha took the opportunity to slide her tongue between your lips, prodding gently, as if asking for permission. Your hand tightened on her shoulders, lips parting wider. The whine that left your throat when her tongue licked over yours was high and came from deep inside your stomach. Her hand found your chest, and before you knew it, she pushed you down firmly. Your back hit the cool tiled floor and you squeaked at the feeling. Her lips broke from yours, leaning away enough to look at you through heavy lashes. Agatha was on top of you, one hand pinning you firmly to the ground, the other supporting herself, propped up just beside your head. A few strands of hair had freed themselves from her rollers, falling around her face like a picture frame and her eyes, oh her eyes. They were dark with lust, glinting in the half darkness of the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed, you could tell even in the color drained world you were caught in. Whether it was from the wine or the kiss, you couldn’t tell. But God, you hoped it was the latter.

„Agatha“, you gasped. The hand that wasn’t fisting the silk of her nightgown found her arm, and you ran your fingers down her bare skin, delighted to feel goosebumps on your trail. You reached her wrist, fingers curling around it. „Agatha“, you repeated, holding eye contact as you dragged her hand slowly up your chest, past your collarbones, toward your throat. „I .. I want you-“

She was gone just as fast as she’d been on you. Her absence left a longing so much more urgent than before. You suddenly felt very cold on the floor. The silk of her nightgown slipped from your grip, and before you knew it she was back on her feet, snagging the half empty wine bottle from the kitchen island. She stared at it for a moment, and you caught a shake of her head as you wrapped your gown around you tighter. Suddenly, you felt very naked in the flimsy fabric.

„Agatha!“, you pushed yourself up, right behind her as she paced the tiled floor towards the door.

To your surprise, she turned around immediately. And to your relief, there was a smile on her face, even if it was small. But it was better than anything else.

Her free hand came up to cup your face, and you leaned into her touch before you even realised it.

„You should try to get some sleep, honey“, she said, her voice low and raw, none of the melodic singsong she put on when she talked to Wanda. This was Agatha, a centuries old witch with powers beyond your comprehension. Who had just made out with you on the kitchen floor.

„You work so hard around the house, you need some rest. And I have to prepare for the stupid meeting tomorrow. I‘ll see you for dinner tomorrow.“ In the half dark it was hard to tell, but you swore you saw her wink at you, before turning around on her heel, nightgown swishing through the air. You stood in the dark kitchen for a moment longer, fingers rubbing over the spot where her palm had pinned you down, still feeling the ghost of her touch lingering.

Something had changed tonight, and you knew there was no going back from this now. It was exhilarating.

…

Not even 24 hours later you were putting away freshly cleaned dishes. You’d made falafel bowls for dinner, and while Agatha had scolded you for not sticking to era accurate food, she had dug in and hummed with content, pointing out how much she missed the bigger variety of food the present day offered.

You did too. And music, you missed listening to something that wasn’t the same ten songs on the one single vinyl you’d found in the house.

While stacking freshly dried plates over each other, you couldn’t help but hum a tune that definitely wasn’t from the 60s. Neither of you had mentioned the prior night, and Agatha had left even earlier than usual this morning. In her absence, you had made another, identical pie like she‘d requested, that was cooling down on the kitchen island as you cleaned up. A part, no, every part of you hoped she’d comment on it, and then you could talk about it, and maybe you could kiss her again, longer this time, and maybe —

Suddenly, you felt a hand sneak around your waist. A palm came to rest on your stomach, pulling you back into the warm body behind you just slightly. The plates you held clinked together dangerously, and you put them down quickly, before you could drop them. On your heel, you spun around, and now the two of you were flush against each other, front to front, the kitchen counter pressed into your back. She’d been quiet all day, still frustrated with Wanda randomly changing the era of TV you were in, but you knew better than to ask too many questions. Now, you could basically feel the frustration cling to her, tension in the body pressed up against yours. It was exhilarating.

„Go sit“, Agatha told you, voice low while glancing from your wide eyes to your slightly parted lips and back. There was that twinkle in her eyes again, the same one from last night, when you two ate pie on the kitchen floor at 2 am. „I'll clean up tonight.“

„I don’t mind…“ you started, but the words got stuck in your throat when suddenly, a single index finger brushed over your bottom lip. Goosebumps rose on your arms, your neck, your entire skin. Agatha tilted her head, her other hand running over your exposed arm, chuckling at the goose skin.

„Just sit down," she repeated, more firmly. There was a smirk on her painted lips, eyes unreadable. „You deserve it.“

„But-“, this time, she shut your protest down by pushing her finger right past your lips the moment you parted them.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening, a high pitched sound leaving you from the back of your throat.

Agatha’s other hand slid around to the small of your back, tightening its grip, fabric of your dress creasing under her touch. Her stare never left yours, tip of her finger pressing down on your tongue, brows raised in silent expectation. A flash of heat shot up your spine, and if it wasn’t for the furniture right behind you, you might have melted into a puddle on the ground right now.

Once your initial surprise had worn off, your lips closed around her finger, tongue licking up against the pad of her finger. Agatha’s bright eyes were focused on your mouth, watching every microscopic movement, pupils wide and dark as you slowly, shakily began to suck her finger.

You couldn’t breathe, too scared to change even the smallest thing about the moment to do so. You could feel yourself trembling, and knew she could too, as another little whine left your throat, starting to bob your head back and forth, once, twice, settling into a rhythm.

Agatha watched you the entire time, her body pressed flush against you, hips pinning you to the kitchen counter. Her own lips were parted slightly, her breath hot on your face. She pulled her finger away, the curve of her mouth forming a subtle smirk as you gasped, sucking in a deep breath.

„You forgot to breathe“, she pointed out, a low chuckle before her finger came up, gently tapping the tip of your nose.

Your shoulders slumped, leaning against the counter to stay upright. You could feel the little wet spot of your own saliva on the tip of your nose. With the back of your hand, you wiped it off.

„Agatha-“

The witch let out a groan, her hands coming to rest on the counter on either side of you. She was leaning against the surface, so close to you without touching, and her forehead was wrinkled when her eyes found you after a long, exasperated sigh.

„Do you ever turn that pretty head of yours off for one second?“ Her lips quirked up into a knowing little smile, and she leaned forwards, her lips so close to yours, you could feel her breath ghost over your skin. Memories of how they felt against yours flooded your mind, her tongue dragging over yours, the taste of plums and jam. You swallowed hard, and Agatha watched your throat move without shame. Her pupils were dark, dragging up your neck, over your lips before holding eye contact again. The familiar twinkle in her bright eyes was a clear challenge.

„Do I make you nervous?“, she drawled and you felt one of her hands find the fabric of your dress, running over the little buttons holding it together in the front. Her index and middle finger ran up your front, all the way to the first open button right over your cleavage, where they hooked underneath the cotton. You gasped.

Agatha smirked as her eyes never left your heaving chest, watching the goosebumps on your skin rise.

„I bet you’ve done a lot of thinking today, huh?“ Her nail dug underneath the next button on your dress. Just one flick of her finger, and it came undone, the top of your bra peeking out. Delicate lace, one of the most revealing ones you‘d found in your period accurate closet. The wire was incredibly uncomfortable, but the way her lips parted just the smallest bit, tip of her tongue darting out as she undid another button, revealing more of the undergarment was worth the discomfort at least ten times.

„Naughty“, she commented, head tilting to the side. „Last night really hasn’t left your mind.“

All you could do was shake your head.

„Good.“ With a swift motion, she’d grabbed your undone collar with both hands, tugging the dress open and down your shoulders. Cold air touched your skin, skin that you desperately wanted her hands on. The high, breathy moan that left your mouth told her as much.

One of Agatha‘s brows raised in amusement. She was looking at you like a lioness ready to pounce. God, you hoped she would.

Her hands found your shoulders, palms running over your skin, smirk widening at your eyes fluttering shut as you sucked in the air sharply.

„So responsive“, Agatha purred, fingers running over your collarbones. Your chest pushed forward into her touch as if on instinct and she complied without hesitation. Her palms cupped the swell of your breasts, fingertips pressing into the silky fabric covering them, thumbs running over where your nipples hardened against lace.

You wanted to say something, tell her to just shut up and kiss you, beg her to touch you, to tear the last pieces of fabric off your body and take everything from you right now on the counter. But the words wouldn’t travel from your brain to your lips, so instead, you reached behind yourself, finding the clasps holding your bra together. A few moments of fumbling and then you had done it, the straps on your shoulders loosening, the fabric falling away from your body like a shell you‘d outgrown.

Agatha’s mouth fell open in a surprised „Oh!“, and the sound made your heart attempt to leap out of your chest. Her fingers pulled the fabric away from you, exposing bare skin, and the piece dropped to the ground somewhere besides you carelessly. Dark pupils were fixed on your bare chest and her hands returned to their original position, squeezing the soft flesh. Her thumbs running in featherlight circles over your bare nipples had your head roll back, and you let the low moan escape your throat without holding back. Agatha caught your gaze holding eye contact as she leaned down.

„Hold yourself up“, she purred, and you had just enough time to grasp the counter behind you with both hands before her lips were on you.

She planted a soft kiss to the rounded flesh of your breast, and then grazed her teeth over the same spot dragging just a little lower. Soft, wet lips closed around your nipple, sucking the sensitive skin in, where she then ran her tongue around it in little circles.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut and one of your hands found her dark hair, nails grazing over her scalp as she snickered against your nipple, the vibrations shooting right through your spine.

„Ag- Ah!“, your voice was weaved with desire and she was right, if you weren’t holding yourself up with your other arm, your knees would have given out.

Agatha released your nipple with a wet pop, saliva coating your breast and her lips, a sight that made your stomach curl into a tight, burning hot knot. Bright eyes found yours and she held eye contact as her teeth slowly sank into the soft skin just above your nipple. The pain was sharp and hot, not enough to draw blood, but enough to fuel the fire she‘d started within you. Your hand in her hair gripped tighter, pulling her up towards you. She chuckled against your skin, not letting your urgency rush her in the slightest.

Instead, she placed a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses from your chest over your collarbone all the way up your neck. Her tongue darted out right at the spot just underneath your earlobe, and you mewled at the feeling. One hand came up to cup your jaw and she held you in place, taking her sweet time as her lips continued their journey along your jawline, up your chin. When she finally reached your lips, you leaned forwards expectantly, but her hold tightened, keeping you just out of reach.

„Agathaaa“, you whined, and genuinely had to resist the urge to stomp your foot. Of course, that only made her laugh, brows raised as she held you less than an inch away from her lips.

„You can have what you want“, she murmured, tongue darting out to wet her own bottom lip. And, you were sure of that, to taunt you further. It worked. „If you can tell me exactly what that is.“

A long, exasperated sigh left your mouth, fingers running through her dark curls.

„I‘ve wanted you to kiss me for the past ten minutes“, you mumbled, but that wasn’t quite true. You took a deep breath. „I‘ve wanted you to kiss me since the moment I stepped into this house.“

„That‘s my good girl“, she purred, finger running along your jaw, „I knew you had it in you.“

Finally, instead of keeping you just out of reach, she pulled you in. Your lips crashed together and it was nothing like last night.

Last night was too careful, almost anxious. You’d dipped a single finger into the waters to test the temperature, and if you weren’t in the position you were in right now, a part of you would have wondered if it had all just been a dream.

But now you were on fire. You‘d tested the waters, and now you were jumping right in. Agatha pushed her tongue past your lips with intent, and a moan slipped out as you granted her entry. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you flush against her as your fingers dug into her hair, no care for the pins holding her curls in place.

Teeth clashed against teeth and you felt her groan against you, kicking your legs open before slotting a knee up between them.

You squealed, stomach twisting with desire, pulling away just enough to look her in the eyes. They were tainted with pure, unadulterated lust.

„Take me“, you panted against her lips, barely breaking contact enough to speak properly. „Take me now, Agatha. Please."

Her hands found your hips, giving the dress that had gathered there one last firm tug. It all fell to the ground, fabric pooling around your feet, easy to step out of.

„Such a quick learner“, she murmured, eyes raking down your body, over the garters holding your stockings up, the thin nylon covering your legs, the ruffles of your underwear. „You really are quite something, honey.“

Her forehead rested against yours for a moment, hot skin against skin as her fingers dug into the soft flesh right over your hips. „Turn around“, she commanded, voice low and heavy, more of a groan than anything else, a movement right against your own lips that left you breathless.

With one swift motion, you were flipped around, her hips pinning yours against the marble counter. A hand ran up your bare back, fingertips teasingly tracing the edge of your garterbelt before trailing up your spine, until her palm was right between your shoulder blades, pressing you down against the cool marble. You sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound made her chuckle. She enjoyed the power she had over you. Always had, since the moment she offered you a deal. But back then, you hadn’t realised just how much you wanted her in control, how much you craved it.

And yet here you were, her hand holding you firmly in place, knees pushed apart as her fingers slowly traced over the edges of your undergarments. Since you‘d moved on from the 50s style to a decade later, you had been able to drop the corset from your everyday wear, but still, as her nails dragged over the curve of your ass, digging underneath the elastic just to let it snap back against your skin, you wished there was still a little less fabric keeping you from her.

Hell, you‘d probably have to throw this pair of underwear out after this anyway. You were absolutely drenched.

Agatha’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass. Simultaneously, you felt her lips ghost over your ear, her body leaning over yours, pushing you further into the countertop. Her nails poked into your skin, leaving little crescent marks in their place.

„A part of me wants to spank that pretty ass of yours raw“, her voice dripped with sweetness, you swallowed hard.

„But how could I, when you’ve been nothing but good for me since you got here.“

She let go of your butt, gently rubbing over the little marks her nails left behind before dipping lower. Her tongue darted out, running over the shell of your ear. You whined, pushing back into her touch. You could feel her gentle hum vibrate against your ear. Her fingers found your clothed core, three fingers dragging slowly up and down the soaked fabric. You felt her breath hitch.

„So, so good“, Agatha purred, poking just over where nothing but white ruffles kept her from sliding right inside your drenched cunt.

„Tell me you want me.“

Your head was spinning, legs shaking, and the tight knot that had formed on your stomach wanted nothing more but to finally explode, so you almost didn’t catch her words. When you responded, your voice was weak, a mere whimper, and under any other circumstances you would have been embarrassed. But the more pathetic you sounded, the more you melted under her, the more Agatha seemed to delight in you. And right now, the only thing you could ever want was to please her, to hear her purr sweet praises in your ear, to finally have her way with you. Good God.

„I need you“, you rasped, and your needy plea was rewarded with a lingering kiss on your shoulder. Her fingers ran over your clothed centre one more time, and feeling her graze over your clit made your entire body shudder.

„I need you so bad“, you mewled, „Agatha please, I- Please just fuck me already.“

„Hm, mouthy“, she chuckled, teeth grazing over your skin one more time before she leaned back up. Her absence over you left your shoulders cold, but it was worth it when you felt her hand guide yours to the edge of the counter besides you.

„Hold tight honey. Yes, exactly like that.“ Two fingers hooked under the elastic of your underwear and you gasped.

„You‘re doing so well for me“, Agatha purred. Her free hand ran up your spine again, this time she wandered over the back of your neck, right to where her fingers could dig into your hair, that hadn’t been the intricate style you‘d pinned it into that morning for a hot minute then.

Her fist closed around the strands, twisting them in her grip until you felt a tug, back arching in response. You heard Agatha moan at the sight and you instinctively pushed your shoulders back even further back arched, ass pushed back, her fingers ghosting over the soft skin on your thigh.

„Gorgeous“, she hummed, grip on your roots tightening, „So good for Mommy, aren’t you?“

And then, at last, her fingers pushed past the fabric of your underwear, right between your folds, slick with arousal. She slid right through you, fingertips pressing down right onto your swollen clit. Desire pulsated through your veins.

„Agatha!“, you cried out, knuckles white as you held onto the countertop for dear life.

„What was that?“, she lulled, teasing, fingers staying right where they were. Your hips stuttered, trying to push down into the touch, but her grip on your hair kept you in position.

„Ah!“, your breath hitched, your mind was mush. „M.. Mommy please!“

Her fingers circled around the bundle of nerves they were pushing up against and you moaned with relief. That was exactly what you needed right now.

„You didn’t think I missed the way that makes you tick, did you honey?“ The low laugh behind you sounded almost evil, and it shot through your body right to your core. You were sure she could feel your pulse through your throbbing clit, swollen under her circular motions.

“You’re so easy“, she purred right by your ear, giving your clit one more swirl of her fingertips, „You‘re an open book to me honey.“

Her index finger slowly wandered downwards, collecting your liquid arousal on its way. Her lips found the back of your neck, pulling you up into her by your hair.

„And this is a spell I can do with the flick of a finger.“

Her finger slipped into you with no warning. You gasped, eyes pressed shut at the sudden intrusion.

Agatha hummed, holding her finger still for a moment, giving you the chance to adjust. „You‘re doing so well honey.“ Slowly, she dragged it back out, before pushing right back inside, all the way to the knuckle. „Taking it so well for Mommy.“

Her thumb grazed over your clit, and if she hadn’t such a tight grip in your hair, your head would have fallen forward.

Again, she thrust her finger, settling for a gentle, slow rhythm. You pushed back into her touch on instinct. You needed more. More of her inside of you, more sweet words dripping down your back like honey, more of her lips on your skin.

The latter was granted without even having to say anything. Agatha pressed her lips to the spot just behind your earlobe and the moan you let out in response was guttural.

„That‘s right“, you could feel her lips move against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. „Let me hear you.“

Her hand slowed down and you almost let out a frustrated mewl. But then, you felt a second finger prodding at your entrance, and the stretch made you hiss instead.

Slowly, she began to pick up a rhythm with two fingers this time, her back pressed to yours as she held you tight in place. The slight pain of her tugging on your hair mixed beautifully with the slow, steady motion of her fingers thrusting in and out of you, until all you felt was hot, white pleasure like stars dancing before your eyes.

Agatha’s lips trailed a line of kisses down your neck, her fingers speeding up with every time her lips met your bare skin.

Heat pooled in your stomach, the knot tightening. You were on a rollercoaster, rapidly approaching the very top of the ride, bracing yourself for the fall.

„Agatha“, you gasped, and then immediately corrected, „Mommy.“

She stopped her trail of kisses on your shoulder. „Let go honey“, she hummed, tongue running over the little mark she’d sucked into your skin, „Let yourself go for Mommy.“

Again, her thumb found your clit, fingers twisting inside of you. Her rhythm picked up, tips of her fingers grazing over your insides with every thrust. You felt every muscle in your body tighten, cunt clenching down on her hand,your knuckles white as they were gripping the countertop in a vice like grip. .

„Just like that“, Agatha’s voice was low, merely a whisper. And then her teeth found your skin, brushing over your shoulder for a moment before sinking into the flesh. You cried out, head falling back into the fist that held your hair tight.

The knot in your stomach exploded. A shiver ran down your spine, over your back and arms and your entire body as release washed over you like a cool tidal wave, drowning out everything else in its way.

Your hips bucked into her once, twice, and then it was over, and suddenly you felt drained, exhaustion tugging on every part of your body.

Agatha‘s fingers pulled out in one smooth motion, and when you dropped forward onto the counter, her hand gently untangled from your hair.

„Fuck“, you whispered, chest heaving, legs feeling jelly.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you upwards. „Come here“, Agatha’s voice was very soft all of a sudden, steadying your shaky stance against her. You noticed a wet stench on the counter but chose to ignore it for now, instead using your energy to turn around in her grasp.

„Can you stand?“, she asked when your weight leaned into her, arms wrapped around you almost protectively. It felt nice.

Ignoring her question, you leaned forward after turning around and caught her lips in a quick kiss, tasting the salty stench of sweat and sex on her lips.

„I‘m fine, Agatha“, you promised, unable to stop laughing at your own words. „I‘m fucking fantastic, actually.“

Still, she held you at just an arms length, eyeing you up and down.

There were bruises already blooming where your hips had pushed into the hard edge of the counter over and over. Agatha‘s fingers ran over the irritated skin.

„See, we could have done this on the couch if you’d just listen to me.“ Agatha panted, arms wrapped tightly around your shivering form, holding you close. You felt her lips ghost over the crown of your head, placing a featherlight kiss there.

„We could have done this last night in your bed like normal people if you’d just made up your mind then“, you teased back, arms wrapping around her neck as you leaned against her. If it wasn’t for her support, there was no way you‘d still be standing up straight.

Agatha‘s eyes hardened. „If you don’t watch your manners you’re not seeing that bed at all.“

But the kiss she caught your lips in gave her empty threat away immediately. You smiled against her lips, tugging her closer by her neck. A quick peck was placed at the corner of her mouth. Pulling away just enough to catch her eyes, you smirked.

„I don‘t have to be able to read your mind to know that’s not true. But alright“, your hands found hers, tugging her with you as you took a step towards the living room. Your dress lay forgotten on the floor. That was a task for tomorrow, like sanitising the entire kitchen counter.

Right now, you were too busy feeling delighted when Agatha let you tug her towards the living room, unable to tear her eyes off you even for a moment.

„We can have a turn on the couch before we go to bed!“ You chuckled, grabbing her face with both hands, kissing her firmly as you fell backwards onto the couch, pulling Agatha down with you.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #wandavision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #mcu #berry writes things

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kolbalissh · 1 day ago

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what are ur top 5 carcar fics of all time?

hello anon! im very sorry for the late ass response but listing top 5 carcar fics of all time is a task i take very seriously and it is NOT so easy to rank them because i love pretty much every one i read

but there are a few that ive reread, cried over, obsessed over and pretty much think about every waking moment - i'll attach the links ofc, and i'll tag the authors to the best of my abilities because some are my mutuals and they write absolute GOLD and im literally honoured to even read their works

here goes 😁

sumi's top five carcar fics of all time as a full time carcar connoisseur ft rants about each and every one of them

this ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamn arms race by @beabnormal24

(ive read this fic probably 900 times it is the definition of PEAK comfort fic, it is written so well that not only have i cried reading this the first time i find myself coming back to it whenever i find myself down in the dumps, also one of the first fics i read during the beginning of my carcar obession)

catch me floating circles in my fishbowl by @beabnormal24

(lo and behold, the sequel of number one can you tell i love this series? or is it not obvious yet - i adore every single fic from my dear mutual and friend but man oh man, this series was the first of their writing i was introduced to and it just hit like crack)

quantum entanglement by @tiredwishes

(now this right here, altered my brain chemistry in ways i didnt even think was possible, one of the best reads that i wish i could leave a kudos to every time i reread it, the au is so perfect from start to finish one of the most enjoyable fics ive read in this fandom so far)

i made a fist and not a plan by @beabnormal24

(when i tell you this fic is the only thing that got me through that hungarian grand prix weekend trauma, i wholeheartedly mean it - its soft and the sweetest most healthiest dynamic between carcar with the right amount of 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 in it, including one of my all time fav ao3 smut tags so definitely a must read if ur like me)

he just turned in like i didn't exist by @drivestraight

(absolutely love author's work so freaking much, this was maybe the third or fourth ever carcar fic i read and this was also one that i took my sweet time with because it was just so good i didn't want it to end, and have reread multiple times because of how well its written and how much i loved the soulmate au depicted in it)

bonus! (bc why not)

take it or leave it by venerat

(this is gonna get an honorary mention solely because i remember i wanted to read this so bad i read it at my work/internship, on company wifi, during every single one of my breaks on that day - such a creative fic with its layout and concept and definitely how on brand it was for the carcar dynamic absolutely amazing)

i could have simply just listed the fics and called it a day, but you cant contain a yapper like me - thank you so much for the ask!!! <3

#can u tell im a beabnormal fanpage disguised as a carcar blog #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #carlos sainz #oscar piastri #carcar #op81 #cs55 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 rpf #anon asks #anon answered #answered asks #kolbalishasks

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itsnesss · 2 days ago

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subby min-su from squid game who likes to be degraded? >.<

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | park min-su (player 125) × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, emotional manipulation, power dynamics dom!reader, sub!min-su, masturbation, degradation

word count | 1.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You lean against the cold bedroom wall while the murmur of the exhausted players fills the air. But your attention is not on them. Your eyes search for him: Min-su, player 125, always moving in the background, always trying to go unnoticed.

There is something fascinating about her way of being, in that submissive and cautious manner of avoiding any confrontation. You can't help but smile when you see how his shoulders tense up when he notices you're watching him. You watch as he asks to go to the bathroom and you follow him. Tonight, there's no escape.

"Min-su" you call softly, but with enough firmness to make him stop.

He freezes, his eyes fixed on the ground as if he feared facing you.

"Are you running away from me?" you ask, slowly approaching.

"N-no…" he stammers, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course not," you murmur, leaning towards him. "Because you can't, can you?"

He doesn't respond, but the blush on his cheeks is enough confirmation. You love seeing him like this, caught between fear and something else he doesn't dare to admit.

"Tell me, Min-su," you demand, your tone soft but commanding. I want to hear you.

Her breathing quickens, and she finally surrenders to your words.

"I like it..." he admits with a trembling voice.

The power of that confession courses through you like a jolt. You lean in closer, savoring every second of their surrender.

"You're pathetic" you whisper to him, without malice but without compassion. "But that's what I like about you".

He swallows hard, his eyes finally meeting yours. There is something different now, a spark of acceptance in his gaze. What he feels for you is not just fear or submission, there's something more there. Something that intrigues you.

"I want to see you," you say, staring at him intently. I want to see what you've been trying to hide from me. Undress.

That makes him react. He turns towards you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He tries to object, but you don't let yourself be impressed.

"You made a pact with me, Min-su. And if you give up now, everyone will realize that you are not what you seem. You didn't let me down, did you?"

He cannot deny your words. He slowly lowers his hands, his fingers trembling as he tries to unbutton his shirt. Her chest slowly emerges, revealing soft and tender skin. It's all you need. What has led you to make this bet.

"I told you that if I won this game, I wanted something of yours," you remind him. And you know what I want.

You nod in approval when you see her smooth skin exposed.

"Don't disappoint me," you murmur, running your fingers over her hips. Undress for me, Min-su.

It's as if your words were the trigger for her complete surrender. With a desperate moan, he takes off his jersey. His torso emerges, and your eyes widen at the sight of his bare skin.

"That's what I was waiting for," you murmur, stroking her thighs. Now, the underwear.

He writhes for a moment, but soon obeys. His fingers move nervously around his pants. But there is no escape. His pants fall to his feet, then his boxers. You see him with trembling legs, his eyes fixed on you, as if he didn't know what to do. He doesn't have to do anything. You just need to accept your fate.

"I just won, Min-su. You can see why".

He nods silently, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Tell me," you demand.

"Yes. I can understand it" he whispers, his gaze meeting yours. "I like..." his voice trembles as he speaks. "I like that you like my body".

You smile upon hearing his words. You knew what was behind his subdued exterior, but you truly couldn't imagine how much there was in him. What he had tried to hide from you was much more than you had imagined. And she has only just realized what she feels at this moment.

"And what do you want?" you ask him, stroking him from top to bottom.

"I want..." he moans, his eyes falling to your feet. I want you to treat me like an object. I want to see you enjoy me as if you were the owner of my body.

"You are mine" you assert with a whisper. "That's what you must remember. You are at my command, Min-su. Because you are mine".

"Oh, God," she whispers. "Oh, please. Do it. Do whatever you want with me. Please".

You get closer to him, whispering in his ear.

"That's what I'll do. I will do what I want from you, Min-su. Do you understand? I'll do what I want and when I want. Because you are the prize I have earned tonight, Min-su. The prize you promised me. And I'm not going to let you get away".

"Please..." he whispers. I promise. I promise you that I will always be there for you. Always!Please, don't let me go!

You laugh softly upon hearing his babbling. You can feel their hopes rising, their body trembling in anticipation. And you know you've had him since the moment he took off his clothes. What you need is your reward.

"So, I'm going to start" you whisper. "I'm going to do this..." you begin to say, but leave it hanging. "What I desire".

You smile again, your smile a promise of the night to come. Min-su approaches you, his mouth searching for you with anxiety. You stop him with your hand. His eyes look at you with desperation.

"No. Not yet" you tell him.

"Why not?" he cries, his breath quickening. I told you I'm ready for you. I will do anything you ask me to.

"You know why" you say with a smile. "You are not the prize. You are just the consolation prize. Or don't you remember why? Or don't you remember your place? Or don't you remember what I am?"

His eyes widen, and a new wave of terror washes over his face. You know it. You know that fear. But you know it's not the same fear as before. No. Now he knows what you are. He knows what you will do.

"I remember," he finally says, his words barely a whisper." I remember your bet. And I know why I'm the consolation prize".

"Perfect" you murmur. "That's right".

Her gaze meets yours, her eyes frightened.

"Wait," she moans. "Are you going to hurt me? Haven't you said that you like me? Haven't you told me that you are my owner?"

"And now are you going to hurt me?"

"No" you say. In fact, you smile. Their eyes widen even more at the sight of your smile.

"I'm going to give you what you've always wanted," you say. The true reason why you have always followed me, the true reason why you are here.

He doesn't ask what you mean. Just nods in silence.

"I understand," he says simply. And when he looks at you, his eyes are shining with tears of acceptance.

Of surrender. Of obedience.

You smile in response. You know. You know everything. You can see it in their eyes. Everything he has been trying to hide from you is revealed in his pupils. All the pain, all the desire, all that he has waited for with such longing. All her fear towards you.

"Don't be afraid," you say. This won't hurt you.

He nods again, his gaze searching for you once more.

"I'm ready," he says firmly. I'm ready for whatever.

You nod. Now is the right moment. You slide your fingers across his chest, caressing them as you move towards his crotch. You feel it there, erect and ready. With a whisper, you wrap your hand around it, squeezing gently. Min-su moans in surprise and pleasure.

"There it is" you murmur in their ears. "That's where I want you".

You begin to masturbate him then, your fingers squeezing his member, sliding up and down gently. Min-su's body begins to tremble, his gasps increasing with each caress. You see him trembling, his face sweaty, his eyes shining with longing and desperation. A deep moan escapes his lips and your fingers tighten around him.

"I'm going to..." he moans, trying to grab your wrists.

"Don't worry," you murmur with a smile, without letting him go. "I'll know when you're coming. I will always know what you need".

You nod, quickening your caresses. Their gasps become more intense. His body arches upwards, his hands gripping your shoulders. You feel him about to come.

"Do you want to come for me?" you whisper in his ears.

"Oh, God…" he groans. "Yes! Yes!"

A moment later, he lets out a sigh. A cry of pleasure escapes his lips. His arms wrap around your hips, his entire body trembling in your embrace. You let him do it, cradling him in your arms as he spills out. You feel him trembling in your arms, his breath ragged, his heart pounding with fury.

You cradle him in your arms for a moment longer and kiss him gently on the cheek. Min-su nods, smiling faintly.

"Thank you," he groans.

"Good boy" you smile at him.

You hug him one more moment before leaving him there, alone.

#squid game smut #squid game 2 #squid games #squid game #player 120 #player 125 x reader #player 125 x reader smut #min su x reader #min su squid game #min su smut

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myownwholewildworld · 5 hours ago

Text

OKAY SO… where do i even begin with this?! i think i might have gone into arousal shock (is that a thing? must be) after reading this MASTERPIECE, odi. like the way you set the pace, the back and forth, how reader was adamant at first that she just wouldn’t be “another one”… UGGGHHHH it hit all the right spots for me!! also, your writing is so immersive, i was right there in the party and then in the bar with them. you write so beautifully i can only aspire to be like you one day when i grow up 😭 the dynamic between them was so natural, i can only say THAT MUST BE LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. can’t convince me otherwise!

so, without any further ado, let me dive in because I HAVE THOTS i need to let out before i pass out!

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out.

YUP, that’d be me. i’d be fighting wars on a muddy pitch just to grab his hat!!!

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination.

HOWLING TO THE FUCKING MOON YOU DID THATTTTT omfg someone sedate me RIGHT ABOUT NOW I’M BEGGING YOU

the way i pictured this instantly, i ain’t joking i think at this point i started running a fever???

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

i don’t know how reader kept it together, i would of died right there and then. like he’s DIABOLICAL FOR DANCING HIS WAY TO HERRR ASDSFKDÑLKJ

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

HAHHHHAHHHHAHALJLADJA BYE. the fact that she stood her ground?? she’s the strongest of us all. kudos to her honestly.

“I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

gnawing at the walls of my fucking coffin right now. i wouldn’t have asked, i would have begged.

the whole text exchange had me on a chokehold because that man was on a mission he was not about to lose. he knows what he wants and he gets itttttt ugh to be chased by a man like that, DREAM. and when he sends her his pic saying that he’s feeling lonely? DAMN RIGHT HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING. also loved when they are at the bar and Javi opens up about being a DEA agent letting her see some of his real self? like, yeah. he’s down bad, i knew at this point this couple was meant to be. i’ll die on this hill.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied. His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.”

HAHHAHJAHAGTYWIWM,. i was about to fight if he didn’t go into the room, extremely relieved he did.

“Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

ODI, YOU- YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL 😭 from this point on i just completely lost my shit and i was a trembling bundle of nerves throughout. if you looked up the definition of “feral” in a dictionary, my fucking face would be besides it. i shouldn’t have read this in a public space but with every word it just got better and better, hotter and hotter, i just couldn’t stop. i was heavingggggggg. anyways…

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

your thoughts scattered??? beautifully put considering how wild this made me feel… i was not having demure thots at this point.

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

put me in horny jail, i beg you. i was suffering. i am suffering while rereading this.

it would be wrong of me to just quote the whole pussy eating scene so just know i was so not normal about it. grab a shovel, might as well go dig my grave now.

and then the end, when they both come undone and he says “give me one more”??? IS THAT SENTENCE EVEN LEGAL??? gonna have to check the law because i feel like it shouldn’t be. and the promise of a second round????? 🥵

i am so glad i finally got to read this because I WAS SO MISSING OUT. the whole fic was a fucking tease and a masterpiece, i truly cannot describe it any other way. PLEASE I BEG YOU, WILL YOU WRITE A SECOND PART TO THIS??? i hope so 😭

Strangers

Stripper!Javier Pena x f!reader // almost 9k

Time stands still and it's only us, what we feel started way before we ever touched... must be from a different life been here before and it just feels right

summary: you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

warnings: mdni, 18+, javi is a stripper, he wears a man thong and gets pretty close to stripping it all off in public, there's cock and balls, unprotected p in v, f!oral receiving, lap dances for days, reader has breasts, a dress, and hair that can fall around her face and is internally conflicted about this man and his leopard thong, javi has a pov in this too

notes: i really don't remember what sparked this but here we are... it's been like a month or more of me working on this. I thought I was done and then I heard a single song and it pushed me to write even more. This was supposed to be just a smutty fic and then got some depth and I was like wtf. Anyway on to the thank yous, thank you to the 5000 people I have screamed to about this, and a massive thank you to @thundermartini for listening to me go on and on about this guy for a long time and then reading it for me love you baby! A special mention to @gothcsz for the thong idea, @evolnoomym, @milla-frenchy and @sawymredfox for being so supportive of this idea to @joelslegalwhre for reading and @syd-djarin for the moodboard

masterlist

The music thumped so loudly it seemed to shake the floor, the kind of bass-heavy track that rumbled through your chest. Your best friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and the rented penthouse buzzed with laughter, shrieks, and a significant amount of tequila-fueled chaos. The party planners had spared no expense, from the towering stacks of champagne glasses to the flashy male entertainment just about to take the stage.

And then, he walked in.

You couldn’t ignore the way the room seemed to shift when he entered. The man—Javier, as the MC introduced him—had an undeniable presence. Dressed in a tight police officer uniform complete with aviators, a fake badge, hat, and handcuffs, he adjusted his badge with a grin that screamed trouble. His dark eyes surveyed the room with the kind of confidence that could only come from knowing he was the main event.

Every woman in the room, including you, took notice.

While your friends ogled and whispered not-so-subtle comments, you tried—and failed—to keep your eyes elsewhere. He was gorgeous, sure, but this wasn’t your scene. Loud parties weren’t really your thing.

The first performance was for the bride-to-be, of course. When the lights dimmed and the music shifted to something playfully seductive, the room erupted into cheers and Javier made his way to the bachelorette.

“Ladies,” he announced, his voice smooth and teasing as he pulled a pair of fake handcuffs from his belt. “I hear there's a bride-to-be here who’s guilty of breaking hearts. I’m afraid I’ll have to take her in.”

Your best friend shrieked with laughter as he arrested her, securing one cuff around her wrist and helping her onto a nearby chair. The room buzzed with excitement as he began to dance, every move deliberate and designed to tease.

You watched the scene unfold, biting your lip to stifle your laughter. He was undeniably good at what he did. But you couldn’t focus on the theatrics as much as everyone else seemed to. Your attention had zeroed in on him—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the effortless way he commanded every inch of the massive penthouse, the man was sex on legs. As he began to set up for the big finale, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long. He’s just playing to the crowd, he has to look at all the women right?

The bassline shifted to a slower, dirtier rhythm, and he rolled his shoulders back, his body falling into perfect sync with the beat.

Then came the shirt.

He gripped the edges, peeling it off slowly, revealing inch by inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over a perfectly sculpted chest and arms. When he finally tossed the shirt aside, the room erupted in cheers and whistles.

And yet, all you could do was stare and clench your thighs together. Why was this affecting you so much? It’s just a party. It’s just a guy. Get a grip. But no amount of inner scolding could make you look away. Something about this man pulled you in.

His chest glistened under the soft glow of the light, each bead of sweat tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the chiseled contours of his body. Your breath hitched, captivated by the sheer allure of him—the way every ridge of muscle stood out, accentuated as his hand drifted slowly down his torso. He moved with deliberate ease, fully aware of the spell he was weaving, and the teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips made it clear that he was savoring every second of all the attention he was receiving.

But it was when his fingers moved to rip off his belt that the real show began.

The collective energy in the room surged as Javier teasingly ran his hands down his sides, and in one swift, practiced motion, he reached for his waistband and yanked.

The rip-away pants came apart with a sharp, satisfying sound, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The noise, a mix of gasps, shrieks, and raucous laughter, echoed through the penthouse. But none of that registered as you stared at what had been revealed.

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination. Every inch of his sculpted body was on display—toned legs, powerful thighs, and that tiny scrap of fabric barely holding itself together. The cut of the thong framed his hips perfectly, the deep lines of his V cutting down, drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted them to go. The thin fabric of the thong clung tightly to him, leaving the unmistakable outline of his cock on display, straining the limits of the material. Javier seemed completely unbothered by how much was on show.

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

The room exploded excitedly, women fanning themselves, throwing bills, and shouting over one another. But you could barely breathe.

And then, just when you thought the spectacle couldn’t get any more outrageous, Javier turned around with a deliberate, teasing spin, giving the room an uninterrupted view of his backside.

The thong was practically nonexistent, the thin fabric disappearing completely between the firm, sculpted curves of his ass. His glistening, muscular cheeks were on full display, round and perfectly defined, drawing another deafening eruption of cheers and whistles from the crowd.

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your breath hitched and your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out the music. Heat flushed through your body as your gaze lingered shamelessly on his backside, every inch of him a deliberate invitation.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Javier turned back toward the crowd, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he surveyed everyone's reactions.

He strutted forward, running his hands up his torso and tossing a playful wink to the bride-to-be, who was practically falling out of her chair from laughter and shock. But his gaze kept flicking to you.

Your cheeks burned as he moved closer, spinning on his heel to give the audience another view. His movements were fluid and sensual, every roll of his hips and flex of his body perfectly in time with the music. When he leaned down to grab the bride’s hands to feel up his torso, his back arched in a way that emphasized the curve of his ass, and you bit your lip without thinking.

This man was a problem.

When he finally ended the dance with a flourish—dropping to his knees in front of the bride-to-be before flawlessly almost jumping back up to a standing position—the applause was deafening.

Javier laughed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He took a playful bow, blowing a kiss to the bride-to-be before gathering his discarded pants and shirt. His bare torso glistened under the soft glow of the party lights, and the lingering smirk on his lips suggested he knew he had the entire room wrapped around his finger.

The girls were still cheering and clapping, their voices a mix of exhilaration and tipsy enthusiasm. But while the others were caught up in the wild energy of the moment, you felt a strange tightness in your chest, like the room had closed in around you.

You weren’t used to reacting this way to someone, and it unnerved you. The heat creeping up your neck was impossible to ignore, and no amount of pretending to be distracted by your drink could hide the fact that your eyes kept darting back to him.

And he noticed—like a magnet—his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped.

For a split second, everything else faded; the noise, the laughter, even your own internal protests to look away. It was just him, standing there, looking at you with that maddening confidence.

Then he moved.

Javier began to dance again, hips rolling in slow, hypnotic circles to the bass-heavy beat. The fabric of the thong strained with every motion, but he didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it—one hand trailing down his torso to brush along the waistband, teasing as if he might remove it completely.

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

Your breath caught as you tried to focus on literally anything else—your drink, the flickering candles on the table, the way your best friend was still howling with laughter. But there was no escaping the fact that Javier was now standing right in front of you, every inch of him radiating heat and presence.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You blinked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Uh… yeah. It’s been… something.” Your voice wavered, betraying how flustered you felt. Something? Really? That was the best you could come up with? You scrambled for words, your brain short-circuiting. “I mean—great. It’s been great.”

Smooth.

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” he teased, his grin softening into something warmer, more inviting. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let me make your night.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, though your cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining composure. You crossed your arms to emphasize your refusal, but Javier didn’t look the least bit discouraged.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

Despite your best efforts, the laughter bubbling up from your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. But when you refused—again—he didn’t press. Instead, he winked, gave an exaggerated shrug, and moved on to another guest, leaving you strangely disappointed.

————

Later, after the performances ended and the room was quieter, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the back corner of the room scrolling idly on your phone, trying to drown out your lingering thoughts about him. A few drinks had loosened your resolve. You noticed a stack of glossy business cards on the table where he had tossed his hat earlier. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up.

The card was sleek, black with gold lettering. At the top, in bold, elegant lettering, it read:

Elite Heat’s Javier Peña

To the left, there was a neatly organized list; a phone number, a Facebook link, which you immediately ignored, and a website address. But it was the bottom that made your breath hitch.

On top of a gold banner, the words Elite Heat: “The Best Sex Therapy” were printed in bold, confident lettering.

To the right was a photo of Javier himself.

It wasn’t a professional headshot - far from it. It was one of those casual yet devastatingly attractive pictures that looked effortless but likely required perfect lighting and timing. He wore a grey long-sleeve shirt that framed his broad chest perfectly, the top buttons undone just enough to tease without giving away too much. His hand, however, made it impossible not to stare—casually slipping beneath the fabric, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined abs. The way the light hit his skin added a subtle sheen, making the whole image feel like a deliberate invitation.

For a moment, you just stared at the card. The combination of professional polish and brazen confidence made your stomach twist in a way that annoyed you.

“The best sex therapy, huh?” you muttered to yourself, raising an eyebrow at the audacity.

Curiosity got the better of you. You grabbed your phone and typed “Javier Peña” into Instagram. After scrolling through a few accounts that clearly weren’t him, you found the right one.

The profile itself was… an experience.

Picture after picture of Javier dominated the feed—some in his infamous uniform, others in casual attire, and far too many shirtless to be accidental. Every post was a masterclass in confident allure, and his captions were just as bold.

The comments were what really got to you, though. Endless lines of hearts, fire emojis, and thirsty declarations filled each post.

“Find something you like?”

His voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your phone. You looked up to see Javier standing in front of you, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and he was wearing his uniform pants again. How long had he been there?

“I was just…” You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse for stalking him online. His smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in closer than necessary. “You can follow me. Might even follow you back.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, caging you in.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, one dance. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it… well, you can give me your number when it’s over.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling faster than you wanted to admit. After all, what was the harm in one dance?

Javier’s confidence was infuriatingly contagious, and your curiosity was louder than the protests in your head. You nodded if only to prove to yourself that he wouldn’t get under your skin. A small, victorious smile curved his lips as he straightened, offering his hand. “Good choice.”

He didn’t give you much time to second-guess as he guided you to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the penthouse. Some of your friends hooted and hollered, clearly thrilled to see you in the spotlight. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step as Javier led you to a chair he had conveniently placed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

The music shifted to something slower and sultrier. Javier grabbed his shirt from his shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. The movement was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his toned chest and large arms drew every pair of eyes in the room. Including yours.

He stalked closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had disappeared. Just you, the chair, and the dangerously attractive man who seemed to thrive on the tension hanging in the air.

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Before you could reply, he began to move.

It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected. Yes, it was provocative—every roll of his hips and glide of his body was designed to tease—but there was something more deliberate about it. He kept his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands didn’t touch you—not yet. Instead, they skimmed close enough to make you ache for the contact, only for him to pull away at the last moment.

He straddled the chair, his thighs framing yours as he dipped low, his chest hovering just inches from your face. His scent filled your senses, and your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he could see the effect he had on you.

Javier straightened, his hands gripping the chair on either side of you as he moved his hips in a way that felt borderline illegal. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, but he still didn’t touch. The lack of contact was maddening, and the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The song ended too quickly, and he stepped back, leaving you feeling both relieved and oddly bereft. Your friends erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on Javier as he extended a hand, helping you out of the chair.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten to you. “It was… okay.”

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver through you. “Just okay, huh? I’ll have to work on that.”

Before you could respond, he winked and disappeared back into the crowd.

——

An hour later, the party was winding down. The penthouse was quieter, and most of your friends had migrated to the couches or left altogether. You were nursing your last drink of the night when Javier appeared again, a shot glass in each hand.

“For you,” he said, offering one with an easy smile.

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”

He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, leaning in closer. “I did put something in it.”

You froze, and he smirked, finishing his sentence with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “It’s called tequila.”

Your laugh surprised even you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, clinking his glass against yours. “Now drink up.”

Against your better judgment, you downed the shot, the burn of the tequila grounding you for a moment.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, how about that number?”

Javier’s smile didn’t waver as he set his empty shot glass on the table. “Still hesitant, huh?” he asked, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I don’t make it a habit to give my number to strangers, especially ones who…” You gestured vaguely to his naked chest and the police hat perched crookedly on his head. “...do what you do.”

“Fair enough,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “At least let me follow you on Instagram..”

You stared at the phone, then at him. The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and the way his dark eyes searched yours made it hard to hold onto your skepticism. Against your better judgment—again—you took the phone and followed your account.

“Here,” you said, handing it back after following him.

Javier glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the night with the same confidence that had drawn every eye in the room earlier.

Javi

Javier leaned against the balcony railing outside the penthouse lighting a cigarette, the cool night air doing little to temper the heat still coursing through him. The party was still going inside, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere—to you. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at himself. He’d performed for hundreds of women, charmed his way through countless parties, but tonight felt… different.

You’d thrown him off balance in a way he wasn’t used to.

Sure, you’d laughed at his jokes and taken the shot he offered, but there was something in your eyes—an intoxicating mix of curiosity and resistance—that had him hooked. He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you tried to keep your guard up even as he chipped away at it. Maybe it was the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, like you couldn’t quite help yourself.

Or maybe it was the way he couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the dance floor in his head. The way your breath hitched when he leaned in. The way your lips parted, as though you were holding back words—or something else entirely.

The music from the party shifted the song echoing in the distance. Javier’s mind wandered as the melody pulled him into his own thoughts. It wasn’t just lust that gnawed at him—though, hell, that was definitely part of it. No, this was something deeper, something that felt unsettlingly like longing.

He ran a hand through his hair, the grin he’d worn all night slipping away. He’d never been one for complications, especially when it came to women. His job was to entertain, to tease, to flirt—but he’d never felt this kind of pull before. It was like a spark had ignited when he locked eyes with you, and now it wouldn’t go out.

For the first time in a long while, Javier wasn’t sure if he was in control.

The lyrics to the song playing in the penthouse hit him square in the chest.

Must be from a different life, been here before, and it just feels right. No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers.

The words struck a chord, leaving him standing there, staring out at the city lights, wondering how a single dance, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.

It's like it's driving me closer to you, every step back pulls me right back to you…

Maybe you wouldn’t give him your number. Maybe this would end here, tonight, like all the other nights before. But as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened Instagram, his thumb hovering over your profile, he couldn’t help but think—this didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

———

Back in your hotel room, you flopped onto the plush bed with a groan. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, Javier’s smirk and the heat of his gaze lingering longer than you cared to admit.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for your phone. A quick check of Instagram confirmed what you suspected—he’d already followed and sent you a message.

Javier: See? Now we’re not strangers anymore.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. His confidence was irritatingly endearing.

You: I don’t think Instagram follows count as a formal introduction.

His reply was almost instant.

Javier: What would count? Because I’m pretty sure that dance was more personal than most first dates.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to admit that.

You: Is this your usual routine? Flirt with everyone at the party, then slide into DMs?

Javier: Nope. Just you.

You stared at the screen, your stomach doing an annoying little flip at his words.

You: Why me?

The typing indicator blinked for a moment before his reply came through.

Javier: Because you didn’t throw yourself at me like everyone else. And because you’re cute when you’re pretending not to be interested.

Your cheeks burned as you read the message, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You: I’m not pretending.

Javier: So you are interested?

You: I didn’t say that.

Javier: But you didn’t deny it, either.

You sighed, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You: Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?

Javier: Nope. Not tonight.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, another message popped up.

Javier: You could come over, you know. Save us both the trouble of texting all night.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and you hesitated, typing and deleting a dozen responses before settling on one.

You: Not happening.

Javier: Why not?

You: Because it’s late, and I’m not that kind of girl.

Javier: What kind of girl is that?

You: The kind that sneaks into a stranger’s room after one tequila shot and a few texts.

Javier: I’m not exactly a stranger anymore.

You stared at his message, your lips twitching at the boldness. Before you could type out another response, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a photo. From Javier.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the image preview before finally opening it. The picture was simple yet devastatingly effective: Javier, shirtless, sprawled on a hotel bed, the faint light casting shadows that only emphasized his toned chest. His dark eyes smoldered into the camera, and his messy hair added to the whole “devil-may-care” aesthetic he wore so well.

Javier: Feeling really lonely over here. Could use some company.

Heat pooled low in your belly and you groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed as if distance could break the spell he seemed to have on you. But of course, curiosity won out, and you grabbed it again, typing out a response before you could second-guess yourself.

You: Flattery and thirst traps won’t work on me.

Javier: Who said it was flattery? Just being honest.

You: Still not happening.

Javier: Okay, how about a compromise?

You: What kind of compromise?

Javier: Drinks. Just the two of us. Down at the hotel bar. Public place, no pressure.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. Saying yes felt like walking into a trap, but a part of you was curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little tempted. The idea of sitting across from him, away from the crowd, felt… different. Safer. Almost.

You: Fine. One drink.

Javier: I’ll take it. Meet you there in ten?

You: Fifteen. I need to change.

Javier: You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart. You already look perfect.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you tossed your phone onto the bed and rifled through your suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, you stepped into the elevator, your heart pounding with anticipation and nerves as you descended to the hotel bar.

The bar was dimly lit, with warm amber hues reflecting off the polished surfaces. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere both intimate and unassuming. You spotted Javier immediately.

He sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair. He’d changed into a simple black button-down that clung to his frame in a way that was almost unfair. His gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.

“Right on time,” he said, standing as you reached the table. He pulled out a chair for you, a small but unexpected gesture that caught you off guard.

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, settling into the seat.

“Noted.” His smile widened as he slid into the chair opposite you.

The server appeared almost instantly, and Javier gestured for you to order first. You requested a simple cocktail, while he opted for whiskey on the rocks. As the server walked away, his attention returned to you and it wasn’t long before they returned with them.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “What convinced you to come down here?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”

“And?”

You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”

He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”

The banter came easily, the conversation flowing in a way that surprised you. He was quick-witted, teasing without being overbearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was easy to talk to, it felt like knew him without knowing him. The more you spoke, the more you caught glimpses of the man behind the cocky facade—sharp, observant, and surprisingly thoughtful.

Still, you made him work for it.

Whenever his compliments grew too bold, you deflected with a teasing remark. When he leaned in a little too close, you leaned back, though you couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through you each time he tested your resolve.

“I like this game you’re playing,” he said after a while, his whiskey glass nearly empty.

“What game?” you asked innocently.

“The one where you pretend you’re not interested.” His gaze was unwavering, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, though the words sounded less convincing than you’d hoped.

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “No? Then why are you still here?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the truth caught in your throat. Why were you still here?

Before you could come up with an excuse, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”

For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter. You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

His brow lifted. “Okay, what?”

“Okay… you’re not completely unbearable.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “High praise.”

“You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

His smirk softened into something gentler, his fingers still lightly brushing yours on the table. “Not everything has to be a good idea to be worth it, sweetheart,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Is that your life philosophy, or just your way of convincing women to give you their number?”

“Both,” he said with a shrug, his grin returning. “And it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you eased slightly. The conversation shifted after that, the teasing banter giving way to something more genuine. He asked about your life, your work, your dreams—and for every question he asked, he shared something about himself, too.

“I wasn’t always this guy,” he admitted at one point, swirling the remnants of his whiskey in his glass. “I used to be a cop. A real one. Back in Colombia.”

You blinked, surprised. “A cop? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. DEA, actually.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What made you leave?”

His expression darkened briefly, a shadow crossing his features. “Let’s just say… the job took its toll. And I realized I wanted something different. Something lighter.” He glanced at you then, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “Though I’m not sure stripping is what my father had in mind when I told him I was switching careers.”

The two of you laughed, and the conversation continued to flow. By the time your drinks were empty, you realized you were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word.

Javier glanced at the time on his phone and then back at you. “I hate to say it, but the bar’s closing soon.”

You nodded, a strange mix of disappointment and relief settling over you. “Guess I should head back to my room.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Can I walk you to your door?”

Your pulse quickened at the question, but you nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you rode the elevator in silence, the charged tension between you filling the small space. When you reached your floor, he stepped out with you, his presence at your side was both comforting and exhilarating.

When you finally stopped outside your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Well… this is me.”

“Home sweet hotel,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense.

You fiddled with your key card, unsure of what to say. He didn’t push, didn’t try to move closer. Instead, he simply smiled.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You swallowed hard, his words sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with unspoken possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant at first—a test to see if this was really what you wanted. But the moment his lips moved against yours, everything else fell away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied.

His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.”

As Javier lingered, you found yourself hesitating. The way he kissed you had ignited something within you—something raw.

You opened your door but didn’t step inside, glancing back at him. "Well, you coming?”

He arched a brow, that teasing smirk returning. “You sure?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Javier followed you inside. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he studied you.

“So,” he drawled, his tone playful but low. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think you know Javier.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers lightly grabbing your wrist. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and his voice dropped an octave. “If we’re doing this, I’m in control, ¿entiendes?”

You nodded, and it must have been obvious how nervous you were.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands brushing your knees as he stepped between them. “This is supposed to be fun.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened, your pulse skyrocketing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

When you hesitated, his hand trailed up your thigh, his touch light but maddening. “Go on beautiful,” he urged. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks and pooling low in your belly. Javier leaned back slightly, giving you space but never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark, commanding, and utterly unapologetic. He wanted this. Wanted you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy.

You hesitated, your heart pounding like a drum, but the way his fingers skimmed over your thigh made it impossible to think straight. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing yet dripping with authority. “I want to see every bit of you, mi amor.”

Your hand trembled as it moved to the hem of your dress. Slowly, you slid it higher, exposing more of your thighs to his burning gaze. He walked back and pulled up a chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his eyes never wavered from you. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The praise sent a shiver through your body. You could feel your arousal building, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

Your breath shuddered as your fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, the dampness betraying just how much his presence, his words, his command, had affected you. You glanced at him, unsure, but his gaze was steady, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric, the first tentative touch drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. Javier's expression darkened with hunger, his composure unraveling ever so slightly as he leaned forward.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you can’t hold back.”

Your fingers began to move in slow circles, your body responding to your touch almost instinctively. The heat between your thighs grew, and your hips shifted slightly, seeking more pressure. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of your movements.

Javier's eyes never left you. His own restraint was evident in the way his fists clenched, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back from me.”

You whimpered, your movements becoming more confident, more insistent as you lost yourself in the moment. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, seemed to light a fire in him. His control was slipping, and it was intoxicating to know that you were the one unraveling him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going, just like that.”

Javier’s gaze burned into you, the tension in his jaw betraying how tightly he was holding himself back. But then, he shifted, his hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, exposing the golden skin of his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if daring you to keep watching even as your own hand continued its rhythm.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding, the sound vibrating through you. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. Then, his hands moved to his belt, the metallic clink making your breath hitch. He undid it in a single, fluid motion, the sound of the zipper following shortly after.

He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his hips, the sculpted planes of his abdomen, the sheer strength of his frame—it was as if he had been carved just for you. Heat coiled low in your belly, a visceral reaction to the undeniable evidence of his desire for you.

Your eyes traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with a heat that left you both vulnerable and electrified.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze despite still being partially clothed. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing he could see—made your pulse race and your chest tighten with need.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken hunger, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide how deeply he affected you.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm you’d set for yourself. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t hide from me, nena.”

The sight of him, so confident, so completely at ease with his own pleasure, made your own need intensify. Your movements quickened, your body arching slightly as the tension in your core built. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every shiver, every gasp, every movement of your hand.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, his strokes becoming faster as he watched you. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever.”

Javier’s hand stilled suddenly, and you watched as he got up, his body exuding confidence and unrelenting command. He stepped closer, towering over you where you sat, his dark eyes still heavy with desire. He leaned down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice a seductive rasp as he said, “Come here.”

You hesitated, your heart racing, unsure of what he was asking. But he took your hand, pulling you gently to your feet, and his lips brushed your ear. “I want you to dance for me. Just for me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you stammered, your cheeks burning. The idea made your pulse race, the vulnerability and intimacy of it all was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His hands moved to your waist, steadying you. “Yes, you can, you’re perfect.”

His words wrapped around you, melting your hesitation. Slowly, you began to sway, your movements tentative at first, but his gaze never wavered, filled with encouragement and raw need.

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, and you began to lift it, inch by inch, exposing your skin. His eyes tracked every motion, his breaths deep and heavy, fueling your confidence. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You turned away from him, your fingers trembling as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders before finally slipping out of your panties.

“Fuck, you are so beautfiul.”

You felt the power in his words, the way they stoked your courage and your desire. With each slow sway of your hips, you inched closer to him, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to resist. His heated gaze anchored you, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins.

You ran your hands down your body, over your curves, letting him watch as you closed the distance. His chest heaved as you straddled him and the tip of his cock brushed against your core, you froze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Just like that. Take your time, baby. Feel every second of it.

“Javi,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know if I—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His touch was firm, guiding but never forcing. “You’ve got this, baby. Dance for me—on me. Take your time.”

The raw hunger in his voice undid you. He guided your movements as you began to grind against him, slow and sensual. Your body aligned with his as you slid against him, teasing him with every slow grind. His head fell back against the chair, his jaw clenched as he groaned your name.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip, encouraging your movements. “Just like that. Feel me, nena. Let me feel all of you.”

The sensation stole your breath as you took him inch by inch, your body adjusting to his size. His growl of pleasure rumbled through you, his hands guiding you down until you were completely seated. The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming and it felt so good.

“Now move, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “Show me how good you can make us feel.”

You began to roll your hips, your movements slow and deliberate as you rode him, your bodies perfectly in sync. The connection between you felt electric, every thrust and grind drawing you closer together. His hands explored your body, his lips tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone as you moved, his murmured praises driving you to the brink.

Each undulation of your hips sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, and as you rode him, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled in passion and ecstasy.

The sensation made you both gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as you began to move. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.”

The tension coiled tighter with every roll of your hips, the friction building to a fever pitch as Javier groaned your name like a prayer. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements, his thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin as if to anchor himself. The entire time his gaze stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize the way you looked in this moment—completely undone above him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

The words lit you up, your pace quickening as you chased the edge, that blinding release that teased just out of reach. Your breaths mingled with his, sharp and ragged, the room heavy with the sound of skin meeting skin and the delicious symphony of your pleasure.

“Javi,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Something in his voice broke you, the sincerity laced with desire, the unshakable promise that he wouldn’t let you fall. Your body tensed, your movements stuttering as the first shockwaves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out his name as you shattered around him.

Javier didn’t falter. He held you steady, his grip firm as he ground his hips up to meet yours, pulling you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you slumped forward, resting your forehead against his as you tried to gather yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with need, though his concern for you was evident.

You nodded, chest heaving as you caught your breath. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“Your turn to relax. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he stood. A soft squeak escaped you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

“Javi, I can walk,” you protested weakly, though you made no effort to pull away.

“I know you can,” he teased, “but I like having you right where you are.”

The bed was cool against your back when he laid you down, but his body quickly chased away the chill. Javier followed you down, his weight settling between your thighs.

“Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his gaze softened. “Where were we?”

Javier’s lips captured yours in a kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every second, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat as he paused to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. His hands explored you, tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips before sliding lower. Every touch sent shivers through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasps escaping your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your body aching for more. “Javi, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly. “Patience, sweetheart. You just taste so good.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body arching involuntarily. “Javier, I need… I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re so beautiful like this. All mine.”

As his lips moved lower, he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, his hands spreading you gently. The anticipation made your body tremble, your legs parting instinctively as you felt him pause, his breath hot against your core.

“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he worked you with slow movements. Javier groaned softly, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you open, the sound vibrating through you and heightening the pleasure.

Your hips bucked against him, and you gasped, “Javi, please, I’m so close.”

He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening as he smirked at you. “I love hearing you beg for me, come on let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His tongue and suddenly his fingers moved together in perfect rhythm, lapping, sucking and moving just right. The tension in your belly coiled tighter until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves that left you trembling. Javier didn’t stop until your body softened beneath his touch, his movements slowing as he kissed your thighs and worked his way back up your body.

By the time he reached your lips, you were breathless, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How was that beautiful?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

“Incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw.

Javier groaned softly at your touch, his restraint visibly fraying. He kissed you harder, his body pressing into yours as his arousal became impossible to ignore. “You sure you’re ready for more?”

You answered by rolling your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale as he gritted his teeth. “I need you, Javi. Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He positioned himself, his gaze locked on yours as he pushed into you in one slow, steady motion. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, clinging to him as your body adjusted.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight.”

“Move..please,” you urged softly, your lips brushing his ear.

He obeyed, pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that was slow but deep. Every movement drew you closer until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

His hand slid between you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, teasing it in time with his thrusts. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building impossibly fast. “Javier,” you whimpered, your body tightening around him as the tension reached its breaking point.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Come for me, give me one more.”

His words were your undoing. You shattered around him, your cries filling the room as pleasure consumed you. Javier followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release.

For a while, neither of you moved, the room quiet except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Eventually, Javier rolled to the side, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Javier.”

His smirk returned. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over you both. “You’ll need it for round two.”

#fic rec #like REALLY fic rec #javier peña x reader

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