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lipglossanon · 6 months

Text

Mythical/Supernatural Being

vampire!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - NSFW

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, biting, blood kink, technical monsterfucking 😜, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), gaslighting, mind/memory wipe, coercion, noncon

not proofread ✌️

You’re at a party when he catches your eye. Mindy, your co worker, decided to have a little costume party that now seems to be out of her control with people from all over showing up to her house.

It explains why this man you’ve never met, but feels familiar, seems to be checking you out. He’s pretty in a handsome sort of way, strong cheekbones and very serious blue eyes. You shoot him a smile when your eyes meet and he tilts his head, a curious and bland look on his face.

Feeling like you may have read the room wrong, you offer an awkward smile and a shrug before turning and making your way into the, surprisingly, empty kitchen.

“Hello.”

A man’s voice speaks behind you making you jump in place before turning around, clutching the base of your neck.

“Jeez, you scared me,” you laugh nervously, “uh, h-hi.”

The man from earlier stands just a foot away now, letting you see him fully. He’s taller than you thought and fit, biceps and shoulders pressing against his shirt and making your mouth water.

“I’m sorry for staring earlier,” he gives you an easy going smile, “you just reminded me of someone.”

Embarrassment burns hot behind your eyes making you internally cringe.

“Oh no big deal!” You clear your throat, “I guess I’m just sorry I took it the wrong way.”

His smile slips into a grin, “How did you take it?”

Feeling flustered now, you fidget with the gaudy rings on your fingers that you thought were a riot to pair with your vampire costume.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug, “so uh, are you friends with Mindy?”

He laughs, “Is it bad that I don’t even know who that is?”

You grin, “No, to be fair, I don’t think more than ten people probably know the host. But I guess however you found out, you at least knew to dress up.”

He laughs again, blue eyes sharper than before, “Yeah? What am I supposed to be?”

You gesture to yourself, “A vampire, unless I’m off the mark. We have the same vibe going.”

Leon glances down at his own clothing, dark pants with a long sleeved white shirt and vest offset with a velvet coat with tails. He then looks up to see your silly lacy frock with a red vest paired with dark wash jeans.

You laugh again, “Okay, well yours is a little more like the real deal but to be fair I only had like an hour to throw this together.”

He goes to step forward when a group of people bustle into the kitchen, loudly talking and laughing with each other. Grabbing your hand, he tugs and you follow as he leads you both through the French doors into the backyard.

You feel your heart rate kick into overdrive when he guides you all the way to the gazebo off to the side, nearly hidden from view of the house.

“We shouldn’t be interrupted anymore, right?” He smiles at you but instead of invoking warmth it sends chills running down your spine.

“R-right,” you give him a shaky smile in return, realizing Leon is blocking the only way out of the gazebo, “so, um, you said I reminded you of someone. Were you looking for her here?”

“You could say that,” he takes a step forward and you take one back.

“I might can help, I mean I know a lot of people here already,” you ramble, feeling your nerves get the best of you.

He smirks, features looking colder in the moonlight, “No need, she’s technically not around anymore.”

“Technically?” The spit in your mouth dries up as your back hits the gazebo lattice.

Leon keeps getting closer to you until he’s boxing you in, hands coming up to brace on either side of your head. You’re engulfed with his scent of cedar wood and pine resin sprinkled with hints of warm vanilla underneath; it makes you dizzier the more you breathe it in.

Leaning down, he noses gently against your hairline making you gasp.

“She’s not alive anymore,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear in amusement, “it’s just a little game I like to play, to find her look alike. This isn’t the first time I’ve played with you. Aren’t you lucky, my little vampire?”

You push against Leon’s chest but his mouth watering scent keeps you dizzy and weak, like a kitten pawing at his vest making him chuckle.

“Poor thing,” one of his hands moves to cradle your jaw, his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip, “you’re in over your silly little head, hmm?”

“Who’re you?” You slur out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

“Leon, but you already knew that,” he coos, blue eyes gazing deep into your own, “you’re resisting me, little vampire, but it’s no use.”

“Wanna leave,” you mumble tiredly, unable to pull away from him.

He chuckles meanly, “But why? I’m going to make you feel so good.”

You feel a sharp needle like pain sink into the side of your neck followed by honey thick pleasure dripping down your body from that pressure point. Pressing your thighs together, you whimper as your cunt throbs with want. A rumbling moan comes from the man in front of you as he drinks from your neck.

Your hands tangle in his hair with the intention to yank him away but against your own wishes you pull him closer, whining for more. With a growl, he pulls away from your neck, blue eyes so bright they seem to shine in the dark. His mouth is swollen and painted red with your blood.

“So sweet,” he licks his bottom lip and you catch a hint of his fangs, “I could smell you from outside. Your blood called to me as it always does, sweetling.”

“W-what?” You gasp out while he licks across the bite mark on your neck, sealing the wound as if it was never there.

“Shhh, just let me taste you,” he murmurs against your skin.

Tearing your vest off and shirt open, he pulls down the cup of your bra and bites your breast right above your heart. A keening cry slips past your lips and you sag against his firm body. He moans and uses one arm to wrap around your upper body, cradling you to him as he drinks.

Your mind drifts in a fugue state, feeling the sharp bite of pain each time he sinks his fangs into your body but immediately having it swept away by arousal so potent it has your thighs trembling as slick fills and soaks through your panties.

By the time, he pulls away from your body, you’re swaying into his chest, unable to stay up on your own two feet. He slots his leg in between your thighs and you moan, rocking down on the pressure against your clit.

“Such a needy girl,” he rasps, big hands gripping the fat of your hips to help you grind against his thigh, “come on sweetling, make yourself cum and I’ll take you home.”

The only thing your brain latches onto is making yourself cum. You need it so badly. Humping down onto Leon’s thighs, he kisses and nips at your neck, scraping his fangs against the skin and making you whimper at the hint of pain.

“Cum for me, then I can take you apart in a real bed, make you scream for me,” his dark baritone promises, tongue tracing the shell of your ear, “be a good girl and cum on my leg.”

He yanks you down on his leg just right, rubbing your swollen clit against the seam of your jeans and making your orgasm uncoil from your belly. You cum with a low moan; reaching out, your nails dig into his broad shoulders as you whimper, slowly coming to a stop against his thigh.

Your whole body feels wiped out, like you can sleep forever.

A rumbling chuckle makes you realize you must’ve spoken out loud.

“No one wants to sleep forever.”

Your brain is slow to come back online which Leon is all too happy to coax you back into a half asleep state. He swings you up into his arms and that’s the last thing you remember before passing out.

It feels like your consciousness is swimming through molasses as you finally come to your senses. Blearily, you open your eyes, squinting from the steady moonlight pouring through the open window. Turning your head, you can’t see much of the room, only that you’re splayed out in a large bed with soft sheets.

“There she is,” a voice rumbles from between your legs drawing your half open gaze.

Looking down, you see that you’re completely naked and marked all over with puncture wounds. The man from the party is lying between your spread legs.

“Leon,” you murmur softly and he grins, showing off his sharpened incisors.

“Glad you could join me,” he kisses the bite mark he’d been nursing on your thigh making your clit throb.

His mouth kisses up to the junction of where your cunt and thigh meet, letting his fangs pierce your soft skin. Your thighs tremble and slick drips from your pussy as he laps up the blood beading from the punctures he made.

“So pretty, all marked up like this,” he purrs, mouth kissing across to your mound and aching clit, “should I sink my teeth into this fat little pussy?”

You moan shakily as his fangs teasingly brush across the lips of your cunt.

“Maybe after I’ve had my fill,” he chuckles lowly, “wanna eat you out first.”

With a sigh, he sinks down and licks up the slick dripping from your hole, tongue thrusting lazily inside your pussy. Your arms lay above your head, fingers twitching, feeling weighed down like you can’t move them. Whining, you toss your head back, hips rolling against Leon’s hungry mouth.

His hands trap your thighs against the bed, keeping your spread open as he laps and sucks his way up to your sensitive bud. His mouth softly kisses across the hood of your clit until you’re rocking up into him.

“Please,” you gasp out, “please, Leon.”

He growls and suckles your clit into his mouth, tongue circling the sensitive nerves over and over until you’re humping his mouth with a moan. Laughing, he pulls away to spit on your cunt making your whole body shudder.

“My girl tastes so good,” he kisses all around your pussy, teeth nipping the sensitive skin making you whimper, “but I think it’ll be better if I fuck this silky pussy, right baby?”

You moan and Leon pulls away from your wet cunt. He moves up your body, forearms braced on either side of your head as he grinds down against you, dripping cock leaking precum all over your slick thighs. Your body feels an insatiable need to be filled— fucked by Leon.

He slides his arms underneath your shoulders to help you wrap your hands around his neck. Then, he reaches down to guide your legs to wrap around his waist.

“Good girl,” he coos, making your head go fuzzy as that intoxicating scent of his seems to bloom in the air, “about to stretch this gorgeous little pussy out.”

You let out a choked off gasp as his cock breaches your cunt, bottoming out quickly, stretching your walls to the point you feel split in two.

“Leon,” you mewl pitifully, tears slipping from your eyes.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, “it already feels good doesn’t it, sweetling?”

His fangs open up two new holes in the side of your neck making your cunt clamp down on his cock as a small orgasm washes through you.

“There we go,” he coos condescendingly, “pussy just needed a little help. Now you’re cumming all over me.”

You sob out a moan, tears streaming down your temples as Leon pulls out and fucks roughly back into your sensitive hole. Although your legs and arms are wrapped around his body, you lie there practically limp as he fucks his thick cock into your soaked pussy.

“You’re always such a good fuck,” he grunts in your ear, “no matter how many times we do this.”

“What’re you…”

You try to talk but your mind is just too out of it to form words.

He chuckles meanly, “This isn’t the first time. But don’t worry, I’ll make you forget so we can do this again.”

His cock throbs and kicks inside your fluttering walls making you whimper.

“Mmm, I’m gonna play with this cute pussy all night,” he groans, dragging his cock against the spongy spot in your cunt that has you clenching around him.

He snaps his hips harder and fucks the fat tip of his cock against your cervix making you squeal. He’s barely pulling out before thrusting back in, scraping against your g-spot before his cock presses deep inside your pussy. A handful of harsh grinds as he fucks the opening to your womb has you a drooling mess.

“That’s the spot,” he rumbles, voice a low rasp, “and when I cum, it’s gonna be deep inside this needy cunt.”

You cry out when he sinks his teeth into you over and over, not even drinking your blood, just marking your neck up with vicious bites. It’s enough to make you cum hard around his cock, toes curling as fireworks explode inside your mind. He humps inside your spasming pussy until burying himself balls deep and spilling his sticky jizz all inside your fluttering walls.

“Taking it like such a good girl,” he moans, pumping his load directly against your cervix, hot sticky ropes of cum spurting from the tip of his cock.

The blood roars in your ears as he grinds down against your hips.

“Just close your eyes, sweetling,” his smoky voice drifts into your ears, “when you wake up you won’t remember a thing.”

divider: @firefly-graphics

#lipglossanon #lipglossanonmasterlist #lipglossmasterlist #promptober 2023 #lipglossanon promptober 2023 #vampire!leon kennedy #vampire!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #vampire!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #vampire!leon s kennedy smut #fem!reader #monsterfucking technically lol

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Artificial Extract

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, pregnancy, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍮🍮🍮

Peter hasn’t spoken to you. Not since you told him the truth. He’s barely around. You don’t do much more than wallow in your anxiety, dreading his return and the moment he chooses to finally confront you. You know it won’t be pretty.

The day seems to be it. You're wiping up the countertops when he comes in. He’s dressed to go out. A dark zip-up jacket and black jeans. His hair is combed neatly and parted to one side. He approaches you and grabs your forearm. You drop the cloth as he drags you away without a word.

He marches you to the door and sets a pair of your heels before you and snatches a coat from the rack, nearly flinging it at you. You put them on as your chest bubbles hotly. Is this it? He’s not going to say anything to you before he disposes of you?

You think of the others, the ones who got away, you heard what the men said about them; what they wished they could do when they catch up to them. You’ll find out first what’s in store for those who can’t live up to standard. You step out ahead of Peter as he nudges you, pointing you down the steps and along the walk.

You go to the car and stand across from him. You look at him across the sleek roof, “Peter…”

He ignores you and gets in. You close your eyes and cringe. It takes you back to your ex and his bitter silences. They usually ended much sooner, always violently. You wish Peter would just hit you. That he would just do something. He can’t do much worse than you’ve already been through.

You open the door and lower yourself into the seat. You pull the seatbelt down and click it into place. He reverses down the long drive. You brace yourself and stare blindly through the windshield. Well, maybe it will be over soon. You have nothing left; you’ve only bought Princess the same spite and you never did have much to offer anyone.

He drives on. You wince each time he reaches for the shifter. He doesn't look at you, doesn't acknowledge you in any way.

You recognise Stark Tower as he drives up, pulling beneath to the garage. You follow him as a daze slowly floods you, numbing you to whatever comes next. You walk beside him with heavy, stiff steps, ankles shaking on your steepled heels.

He presses his thumb to a censor and a door opens, then another, a hallways long and sterile, another, and another. You stop at a steel barrier and he exhales loudly, stalling as if preparing for the next step. The last crumb of hesitation flakes away as he pushes his thumbprint into the ultraviolet pad.

You're met by an unexpected symphony of moans and grunts. Peter drags you inside before he seems to realise. He halts stuntedly across from a long lab table, the contents of which are strewn over the floor.

You see the top of Princess's head shifting on the metal, her hair askew as Tony ruts into her. Her back squeaks on the table with each thrust as she grips his veiny forearm, his hand clamped around her throat. You take a step back as Peter lets you go and clears his throat. Loudly.

"Um, you told me you were available."

Tony looks up, not wavering for a moment as he keeps his tempo. Princess retracts her hand and hides behind her arm as she slings it across her face. Tony pulls his arm back to check his watch.

"Four already?" He smirks and gives a wink, "I won't be much longer… you can wait outside or... Stay and enjoy the show."

You twist away, stimach curdling as you fight the urge to save Princess. Her distress is wrought into her piqued moans. You stomp to the door and Peter follows, catching your elbow before you can leave. He hits the switch to slide the door back.

You walk out together and you stare at the wall as you feel Peter's gaze on you. You try not to show your fear or disgust. It's better this ends, you're tired of being a toy.

"Tony's gonna help," Peter speaks to you at last, "he's gonna fix you, kitten."

You turn to him, a tremor in your cheek. Fix you? You don't say a word. Men have only ever seen you as just that; broken, weak.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x kitty #dark peter parker #peter parker #dark!peter parker #sweet treats #au #drabble #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #spiderman

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msookyspooky · 2 years

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Hi queen I absolutely adore your work. Your one of the few lovelies that write for severen. Can you please do a severen x fem!reader where the reader is his mate and he’s super protective of her because she’s small but she’s like “I can take care of myself” so she sneaks out to get a new car for everyone but she gets caught by like some bikers. And he comes and rescues her and then they 🔞 or you know whatever you want it’s up to you

Hope you don't mind me doing this as imagine bulletpoints instead of a one shot just for my brain 😅🥴

Severen with a Fem!Reader that he tries to Rescue from Danger...A lot.

You sneaking out to do things on your own isn't new but it still annoys the ever loving shit out of him every single time.

He smacked his hand on the wall when Diamondback told him you left an hour ago. "God damn it, why the hell does she keep doin' this shit?!"

The clan tries to reason with him that you're not human anymore. You can lift 200lb men off the ground, you can be shot in the head and still get back up, you can break any handcuffs or zipties or bindings of any kind...You're fine.

But you will NEVER convince Severen of that. It's just a deep instinctual NEED to protect you. Your small stature has his brain in hyper drive even more that if he isn't with you; you'll get hurt. Sev hasn't been with a mate in a while or maybe never (A serious mate not sex) so you are extra special to him and if something happened to you he'd be lost for the rest of his days. He just can't fight the fear of something going wrong and he would blame himself forever for it.

He acts like it's just bc he's got nothing else to do even if it's obvious to everyone he's a giant softie that can't let his mate get hurt.

It's 50/50 whether he'll go out to find you completely fine or in trouble.

Most of the time the trouble is something you can handle on your own but once in awhile it can be a bit more dangerous.

Like tonight when you stole a car and it belonged to a guy dealing with a group of bikers up to no good. The sun was close to coming up with how long the held you up.

You started panicking a bit as you realized the time. You had super strength and regeneration on your side but there was one too many of them. Your strength was only good if you could land a hit. Your weapon of choice already taken by one of them as they made lewd remarks and shoved you around.

You definitely mouthed off, not letting your size or gender deter you but that seemed to make the situation worse.

You were relieved to see Severen strolling up to the group. Diverting attention enough for you to get a few hits in and you both took them out.

The moment they were all dead, you cringed. Bracing yourself for the yelling you thought would come but instead he rushed over to cup your face and stare down at you with worry in his blue eyes.

"When the hell are ya gonna learn you can't do everything by yourself? You could've asked me!...Are ya hurt?"

Of course you weren't and you just smiled and let him know you were fine and they should take the car and get out of there before anyone saw.

He definitely was extra clingy and passionate with you that morning before the sun rose. Whispering over and over how dumb it was of you and how sad he'd be if something happened to you.

#severen imagine #severen near dark #severen #near dark imagine #near dark imagines #near dark

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occupyswift · 4 months

Text

Rocket It Off by occupyswift

Rating: Mature

Chapter: 6/???

Summary:

Taylor Swift and Elon Musk appeared on a livestream for charity. But instead of presenting a united front, they began insulting each other. As the insults got more cringe-worthy, a shipping war broke out in the comments. To distract from the arguing, they decided to play Minecraft, but a random player came and tried to destroy their creations. Despite this setback, Taylor and Elon persevered, proving that even a billionaire and a popstar can put their differences aside and work together for a good cause.

Chapter 6

Elon sits back, his eyes locked with Taylor's, a confident grin spread across his face. "Bring it on, Taylor. I'm ready for this challenge. I'll prove to you that I'm not just blowing hot air."

Taylor smirks mischievously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Alright, Mr. Musk, let's see if you can handle the heat." She takes a moment to relish the suspense, savoring the energy building between them. "What's my first album called?" she asks, her voice carrying a playful challenge.

Elon leans forward, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Hmm, let me think. I'm going to go with 'Taylor Swift: Beginnings'."

Taylor raises an eyebrow, impressed. "Not bad, Elon. But close, yet no cigar. The correct answer is 'Taylor Swift: Taylor Swift.' You were just one word away from nailing it!"

Elon chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, I guess I'll have to step up my game then. Hit me with the next question, Taylor."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Taylor continues, "Alright, here's another one. What's the title of the longest-running song on my fourth album, 'Red'?"

Elon ponders for a moment, his mind racing through the tracklist. "Ah, I believe it's 'All Too Well.'"

Taylor's eyes widen, surprised by his correct answer. "Wow, Elon! That's impressive! You definitely did your homework. 'All Too Well' is indeed the longest-running song on 'Red'."

Elon grins triumphantly, feeling the thrill of the challenge intensifying. "I'm just getting started, Taylor. Hit me with the last question."

Taylor takes a small breath, ready to stump him. "Alright, Elon, you've surprised me so far. Let's see if you can guess this one. In which year did I release my album '1989'?"

Elon smirks confidently, his eyes locked with Taylor's. "Easy. '1989' was released in 2014."

Taylor's jaw drops slightly, astonished by Elon's flawless answer. "You... You got it, Elon! That's absolutely right! I didn't expect you to guess all three questions correctly."

Elon winks playfully. "Never underestimate the combined power of a billionaire and a pop icon, Taylor. We make quite the formidable duo."

Taylor can't help but let out a laugh, feeling her heart warm up to the charismatic entrepreneur sitting across from her. She leans in closer, her shy demeanor melting away

Elon leans back in his chair, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "Alright, Taylor, it's only fair that you get a chance to test my knowledge as well. Brace yourself for some fire questions about yours truly."

Taylor nods, a competitive fire burning within her. She watches as a waiter pours them some more wine, taking a sip and savoring the rich flavor. "I'm up for the challenge, Elon. Let's see how well I know the man behind SpaceX and Tesla."

With a confident smile, Elon begins his round of questions. "First up, Taylor, how many siblings do I have?"

Taylor raises an eyebrow, her mind racing to recall any tidbits she might have come across about Elon's family. "Hmm, let me think. I remember reading somewhere that you have a brother named Kimbal and a sister named Tosca, who in fact tried to make that livestream work. So, I'm going to say you have two siblings."

Elon's eyes widen in surprise, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You're absolutely right, Taylor! I do indeed have two siblings. Impressive."

Taylor can't help but feel a surge of thrill at getting the answer right. She leans forward, her competitive side fully engaged. "Alright, Elon, bring it on. What's question number two?"

Elon smirks, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Here's a tough one for you. What year did I co-found Zip2 Corporation?"

Taylor furrows her brow, racking her brain to recall any notable dates in Elon's early career. "Hmm, let me think. I know Zip2 was one of your early ventures. I'll take a wild guess and say it was founded in...1995?"

Elon's eyes twinkle, impressed yet again. "Spot on, Taylor! Zip2 Corporation was indeed co-founded by me in 1995. You've got quite the talent for nailing these questions."

Taylor's competitive spirit soars as she leans in closer. "Last question, Elon. I'm ready to keep the streak going. Hit me."

Elon grins, his eyes locked with Taylor's. "Alright, here's the final question. What's the name of the spaceflight company I founded in 2002?"

Taylor's face lights up, her confidence radiating. "That's an easy one, Elon. You founded SpaceX!"

Elon nods enthusiastically, applauding her with a playful smile. "Bravo, Taylor! You've done it again. Perfect score! Looks like we truly are a competitive match made in heaven."

They both erupt into laughter, their playful banter sprinkled with mutual admiration. As the evening unfolds, they realize that their competitive spirits have only brought them closer together. With each passing question and each sip of wine, their connection deepens, sparking flames of curiosity and attraction.

Elon's eyes dance with amusement as he leans back in his chair, his gaze locked on Taylor. "You know, Taylor, I must say, you've got an impressive knack for getting every single question right about me. Are you sure you didn't do some covert research or secretly become a fan?"

A faint blush tinges Taylor's cheeks as she playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh please, Elon. I'm not one to go digging into people's lives. I just happened to pick up these tidbits casually and randomly from conversations in the industry. It's all a matter of being well-connected and absorbing information like a sponge."

Elon raises an eyebrow, a grin teasing the corners of his lips. "Well-connected, huh? I see, Miss Swift. So, you're telling me you have your sources spreading juicy gossip about yours truly?"

Taylor chuckles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, you know how the industry functions, Elon. Secrets have a way of finding their way into the grapevine."

Their playful banter continues, a dance of wit and gentle teasing, as the night unfolds before them. Amidst laughter and shared stories, they find themselves drawn closer, the sparks of curiosity and attraction forging an unexpected connection between the two extraordinary individuals.

Taylor takes a bite of the delicious food before her, savoring the flavors as they burst on her taste buds. She nods in approval, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. "You know, Elon, this food is absolutely fantastic. I can see why this place is so highly acclaimed."

Elon returns her smile, his eyes shining with both admiration and a hint of mischief. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, Taylor. Now, about our Minecraft stream... I think it's a brilliant idea. We did create quite the fantastic world together on our server, didn't we? It's only fitting that we take it to the next level and continue raising funds as a team."

A blush creeps up Taylor's cheeks as she glances down at her plate, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're right, Elon. We did make quite the pair in Minecraft, building and exploring together. I suppose we do make a good team."

Elon's eyes twinkle with genuine appreciation as he leans in closer, his voice lowered. "Not just in Minecraft, Taylor. I've come to realize that there's a special connection between us beyond the digital realm. I believe we can accomplish incredible things together, not just in raising funds but in making a real difference in the world."

Taylor's heart skips a beat at his words, her eyes meeting his in an unspoken understanding. The air around them crackles with the energy of newfound possibilities.

#ao3 writer #why ppl on xwitter are so mad over this when it's clearly not that deep lol #ao3 author #fanfic authors #alternate universe #enemies to friends to lovers #elon musk #fanfic writing #my fic #fanfic rec #fanfiction #i was drunk when i wrote this #fanfic

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

Text

Digital Heart

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Falling, fighting, minor injuries, nausea, breathlessness

In which Genshin is an interactive RPG accessed through an immersive headset, and you find yourself pushed to play it by your friends.

~ * ~

It started with a game.

For thirty days and thirty nights, your friends have been pleading for you to play it. Genshin Impact it was called, an free immersive open-world RPG with hundreds of weapons, characters, and power ups. Accessible through a specialized headset that tracked movement, it had only been a month since the freely downloadable game’s release and it was already a success, garnering praise from the customizable main character and the interactive playstyle. Play it. Your friends beg. You’ll love it. We can play together.

You refuse at first. The game might be free, but the headset isn’t, and you need to save that money to pay for food and clothes. Alongside your financial state was your schedule, a long list of work and chores that left little time to play games with constant updates like Genshin, so you told your friends- politely, as that’s how you were raised- that it’d have to wait. They agreed, quietly.

Then the next day, they ask again. You make an excuse- too much work. They agree, again.

The second day, asking. You’re too tired, you say. Of course, they respond.

Everyday, the same question. The same request, the same demand. It wears on you, amused exasperation drawing a sigh from you everytime you open your notifications.

Play it.

You can’t.

Play it.

You don’t have time.

Play it.

You need to focus!

Play it.

…

…Alright.

Finally, you cave. You create an account, a headset en route to your house. You clear an area in your house so you don’t accidentally hit anything. The headset arrives, and you insert the batteries, said to last up to an entire day playing nonstop, a stage you dearly hope you never reach. You pull it down over your head, cringing at the thought of your hair getting so mussed, and switch it on. A long and potentially worrying warning flashes before your eyes and you blink, not used to the in-depth cameras yet, as the screen goes white.

Welcome to Genshin Impact! Please name your character… appears, and you subsequently slip down the rabbit hole.

It’s fun, you find. Your friends were right, you did like Genshin Impact, although you thank your lucky stars that you weren’t as attached as some players were, as you still had work and life to attend to. The combat and story were enjoyable, and the characters were funny and diverse in personality and playstyles. The main character, who was also your customizable avatar, was quite literally you, the story explained, a traveler from distant lands who fell face first into Teyvat by mistake and tragedy. Of course you still haven’t gotten entirely used to the whole immersion thing, and sometimes shuddered under the eerily real programming of the NPCs and characters, but that was nigh unnoticeable when focusing on fighting monsters. Your deep love for exploration and discovery surfaces, and you take as long as you want exploring every inch of the wonderfully modelled map as you follow the main story, or “Archon Quests”. You calm the great dragon Dvalin and bid your friends at Mondstadt- Kaeya, Amber, Lisa, Diluc, Jean, and Venti- goodbye, Liyue sprawling out before you in wooded forests and cloud-covered mountains. A mysterious man runs across you at the Inn, the immortal Adeptus Xiao, although you would’ve thought he was quite young due to his short stature, and you encounter Zhongli in the Harbor, along with Lady Ningguang and her subordinates, Keqing and Ganyu. A member of the malicious-seeming Fatui also greets you and introduces himself as Childe, a name you don’t trust for a second, yet find yourself getting strangely attached too. The story progresses with you at Zhongli and Ningguang’s sides, the suspicion being pointed more and more to the Fatui, and you find yourself staring up at the elegant pillars of the Golden House, the mora mint building.

You gulp. You know this is where Childe’s boss battle takes place, and you’re not sure if your team is prepared, even if you stocked up on food right before leaving the Harbor. Inhaling a deep breath, you shove the enormous front doors open, and a cutscene pulls your fear tight against your throat. Everyone’s suspicions were right- he was here to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, and you have to stop him.

Easier said than done. The cutscene of your face shows a determined, fierce expression, instead of the nervous one you had in real life, and you almost laugh. You dearly hope your characters are strong enough, and step into the arena.

Phases One and Two are relatively short, as you quickly learn to avoid using Childe’s respective elements of his Vision and Delusion while his shield is up. The battle is fun and fast-paced, and you feel a thrill in your bones as you dodge another attack before swinging your sword in retaliation. Childe stumbles, and Phase Two ends with a cutscene. The corpse of Rex Lapis, something you considered a bit gruesome, is discovered to have no gnosis, and you can feel the raw anger in the Harbinger’s voice as the air crackles and hisses. A horrible, blinding light shines, and Childe is gone.

At least, human Childe is gone. In his place floats a monstrous version of himself, nearly 14 feet tall and complete with horns and armor, and your mouth drops open slightly as you gaze at him wide eyed. But your focus is violently shifted when the floor cracks and turns to dust, sending you tumbling down into the belly of the Golden House. You land with an unceremonial thump, thankful that the creators hadn’t been cruel enough to make you feel the damage you took in-game.

And Phase Three, the final phase of Harbinger Tartaglia, commences.

He has considerably more health, and his attacks can range from irritating to deadly, you just barely dodging the falling Hydro arrows that would’ve slaughtered your current character. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re sneaking glances at your attacker every few minutes. Your mind wanders to the lore as you shield yourself from violet lightning. Does this transformation hurt? Where does it come from? Why does it look like a moth? Maybe one day you’ll get answers.

Despite the raised difficulty, Phase Three also ends rather quickly. Your characters, it seems, were overleveled. The remainder of the Archon Quest passes, Childe reappearing once at the end, and it’s over. The screen blips off as you log out and place the headset on a table before laying on your bed and using the last few hours before bed to contemplate what you’ve just seen.

The next days quickly fall into routine. After completing all your work, you’d take an hour or two to play Genshin, leveling up your characters even more and going through various quests, Childe’s included. You see his transformation, dubbed the Foul Legacy form, again, and almost swoon before stopping and giving yourself a harsh scolding. You fulfill requests and tasks for various people around Teyvat, or at least the parts of Teyvat you can access, and improve your skills and stats. You have a talent for dodging, you find, and use it to your advantage while fighting.

And every Monday, when the clock resets, you re-enter Golden House to battle with Childe and claim your just rewards.

Of course you could do it everyday, but a squirming, guilty feeling in your gut stops you, making you feel like you’re hurting him, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s simply a video game character, a program in an electronic system.

This thought makes you a bit sad, you think.

The fights are getting easier, something you credit to your rising stars of characters, and you stand before the Ley Line Blossom quicker and quicker each time, something you expect to be no different today.

Phases One and Two are just the same as you take advantage of Vaporize and Overload, drowning out Childe’s pre-programmed sounds of pain with your own abilities. The battle pauses, and you’re transported to the same chamber underground, with its fiery walls and glittering arches, as the fight resumes. With the same attacks and characters, it’s becoming a tad dull, and you frown, wondering if you should try to get another character soon.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you slip and fall.

This you feel in the real world, having landed hard on your back and knocked the air out of your lungs. For a few moments you struggle to breathe, and Childe takes the opportunity to appear right over you, his spear flashing purple. You swear internally, bracing yourself as he readies his weapon.

But the strike never comes. You inhale desperately, oxygen finally flowing into your chest, and open your eyes. The graphics of your game are gray and fuzzy around the edges, framing Childe as he slowly puts his spear down and, to your amazement and slight terror, jerkily reaches towards you. Voice clips play overhead, pieced together to make not words, but a static-interspersed whining sound, much like a concerned beast. Your eyes widen, and Childe stops, withdrawing slightly almost as if he’s worried that you’re afraid, and you whisper his name once, as a tentative question.

Then with crackle and a ping, your game crashes and everything goes black.

You gasp and rip off the headset, chest heaving as you struggle to comprehend what just happened. You’re shaking, nervous and fearful, but curiosity runs strong through your veins. Your finger slides towards the On button, and you press it and slip the device back on.

You’re standing outside, the doors of the Golden House closed as if the battle never happened. The guards surrounding it look ordinary, occasionally repeating phrases you’ve heard and ignored countless times. Glancing around and trying to squash the nauseous bubbling feeling in your gut, you push the doors open again.

It’s different this time. Instead of being in the upper room, you fall a short distance into the Third Phase Chamber, your shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Childe floats in the center, his back to you, and you take a tentative step forward. He turns and looks you dead in the eyes, before flinging his spear to the side and rushing towards you on his feet, kneeling to your height. Instinctively, you jump away as he sits on the ground before you, letting out joyful chirps and trills, sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You approach him, sword held loosely in your hand as an extra precaution, and he tilts his head and coos as you cautiously sit with him. Your hands are trembling as you try to understand that this is real, he is real, all of this is happening.

And if it’s not, then it’s some damn good programming.

Questions start to fill your mind, one after another, and you ask him, responses coming as a nod or a headshake.

Is this real?

Yes.

Or programming?

No.

Could you always do this?

No.

Just today?

No.

Over a period of time. Yes.

How…?

The final question hangs in the air, and he shrugs slightly, then points at you. You did this. You woke him up, made him feel pain, sorrow, and happiness, all stemming from you, his love for you. From the minute the Archon Quests let you meet, he was vaguely curious, the most emotion he’s ever felt in his cold, empty programming since before. And when the code broke, he adored you, not like Childe viciously adored battle, but a soft adoration, one with all his digital heart could muster. You smile, and he purrs at what a wonderful smile it is.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. You turn and squint, then gasp as your surroundings begin to dissolve into colorful squares, the game taunting you as it glitches and lags. You and Childe leap to your feet, only to watch helplessly as the world crumbles away. You look down at your hands and see them beginning to break apart into pixels. Childe reaches out to hug you, to hold you close, but his hand passes right through you, a sickening reminder of how unreal he is. He wails in anguish as you both try to grasp each other, only to shatter more, the pixels covering your screen like rain on a windowpane.

Your game crashes for a second time, the only sound a desperate whimper that soon fades into an electronic squealing.

It takes a week to fix your device, the tech people saying that it was “overloaded”. Finally the repairs are finished, and you’re back at the Golden House, the doors already ajar. You slip into the room, expecting either a battle or, hopefully, someone to greet you.

But the room is empty. No one, human nor monster, stands in the center. Instead there is one lonely Ley Line Blossom, waiting, the final gift from an impossible love.

497 notes · View notes

bucksfucks · 3 years

Text

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for.

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Ex-wife.

Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

His ex-wife was threatening you.

And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

“Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

“I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

“There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

How far back?

You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

“Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers.

And you knew exactly who to go to for them.

“I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?”

You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door.

Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was.

It felt...wrong.

But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front door.

You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway.

The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd.

People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more.

You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just to get a look at.

The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor.

You were so close, before you were stopped.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him.

“I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

“It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left.

The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls.

“This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.”

You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office.

It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony.

Tony was an old friend, sort of.

He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother.

So just one giant pain in your ass.

“So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

You told Tony everything.

From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do.

Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy.

“I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer.

“Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.”

He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped.

There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with.

“Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with.

It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start.

Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour.

The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it.

Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married.

Married.

You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him.

Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go.

The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it.

You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it.

It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace.

You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day.

Everything led you right back to Bucky.

So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky.

Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear.

“You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you.

“He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.”

This time, it was your turn to fall silent.

“Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.”

“They had spies, agents, hit-men.”

No. You shook your head, no.

“James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.”

You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you.

“Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.”

You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name.

“By that point it looks like James—”

“Bucky. His name is Bucky.”

Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.”

That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though.

“Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.”

He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.”

“Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.”

With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island.

“That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name.

He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it.

“But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer.

“Unfinished business.”

They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky.

“Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile.

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.”

Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race.

He was worried.

Not about himself, but about you.

And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough.

So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

“We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

“I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

“I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

“You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body.

“I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him.

You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think.

“Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself.

“And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt.

And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed.

“Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.”

Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it.

“Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself.

“God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.”

You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words.

“Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.”

Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming.

He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap.

“I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.”

You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name.

Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums.

“If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment.

“Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you.

“Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him.

“I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him.

“I love you too, Sweets.”

It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #roommate!bucky #bucky barnes series

991 notes · View notes

just-a-creep-babe · 3 years

Note

Hoodie throatfuck hoodie throatfuck hoodie throatfuck hoodie throatfuck hoodie th

-tiny anon

Idek if this was meant to be a request but like,, I wasn’t just gonna pass up an opportunity to write a hoodie throatfuck, so here it is 😳😳 even tho it is pretty short whoops

Requests are closed

Masterlist: x

His hands are tangled in your hair, fingers gently tugging at the soft strands

Every slow, gentle thrust of his hips has his cock hitting the very back of your throat

“That’s it, atta girl~” he hums, praising deeply

He’s taking it easy on you, enjoying the wet warmth of your tongue lapping up at him, savoring your mouth wrapping around his length, but you know it’s just the beginning

He plans on ruining you, and you know it

You welcome it

Pressing both hands at the back of your head, he pushes you forwards, forcing you to take him in deeper until your nose is nearly touching his pelvis

Tears spring to your eyes, your gag reflex reacting before you can overcome it

You expect him to pull out to give you a moment to breathe, but he only shushes you and keeps you firmly locked around his length

“Shh, shh, be a good girl for me, baby. Be a good girl and swallow it down—swallow down my cock”

You whimper pathetically, glassy eyes glancing up at him

There’s a hint of an amused grin tugging at his lips as he gazes down at you, like he’s enjoying watching you struggling to take him

“Are you my little slut, baby? My good little cockhungry whore?”

You make some other indignant noise in agreement, just barely managing to move your head in a nod

He chuckles at the sight and finally, finally, releases his hold

You immediately pull away, coughing and gasping as you try to catch your breath

His cock twitches in front of you as he patiently waits for you to recover

And once he decides you’ve had enough time, his hands return to your hair—harder, less forgiving this time

He pushes his hips forwards to rub his cock against your cheek, smearing a mix of precum and your own saliva against your face

The grip on the back of your hair never loosens, so you’ve no choice but to maintain eye contact as he degrades you with the tip of his cock

“I’m gonna fuck your throat, alright, sweetheart? And I’m not gonna give you another break until I cum insides that cute little mouth of yours. You understand, baby?”

There’s a certain sense of authority to his voice that you’ve heard before—and you know better than to disobey

You swallow thickly, your heart thumping eagerly in your chest as you nod

That slow, cruel grin returns to his face

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “now open”

You do as he says, and when he orders you to stick your tongue out for him, you immediately do so without question

You know you must look stupid like this—your hair a wild mess, spit and precum clinging to your cheek as you stick your tongue out—on the verge of drooling for him

But you’re so eager to please; you can’t find it in yourself to care

He enjoys the sight a little longer before rubbing the tip into your mouth, massaging himself onto your wet muscle

And then in one slow, long thrust, he pushes all the way down into the back of your throat

This time, you manage to hold back your gag when it threatens to have you spluttering around him

But he doesn’t take the time to praise you for it

Without hesitating, he pulls out and pushes back in again, practically cramming himself in all at once, forcing you to take him whether you’re ready for it or not

He thrusts out and repeats the motion again, not going too quickly but using you roughly—like your mouth is a fleshlight at his disposal

“Fuck, you feel good,” he cusses

His second hand joins up with his first to push your head down around him in tandem with the movement of his hips

You’re drooling, tearing up and struggling to breath in through your nose as he picks up the pace

You can feel him stretch out your throat every time he fucks into you

“My little cumslut,” he groans, and the sound reaches right into the depths of your core

He shows no signs of slowing down or stopping

Instead, he keeps going faster and harder, making you take him in deeply with no regards to how often you choke on him

You have to lifts your hands up against his calves to brace yourself

Eyes squeezing shut, if it was any other time, you’d be cringing at the wet smacking sound you‘re making around him

But you’re far too horny to care as he uses you for his own personal gain

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!~”

His moans and groaned curses encourage you to stay still and complacent for him

You know he’s getting near when he keeps twitching and throbbing against your tongue

When you whimper around him, he cusses again, throwing his head back and shoving himself as deep as you can take him

His cock twitches frantically as he pumps his load down your throat, bringing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes

You try not to let anything escape past your lips, but there’s just so much of it that you can’t help the small amount dribbling down your chin and onto your chest

He keeps himself slotted far down your throat as he comes down from his high, still faintly rocking into you, like he doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your lips wrapped around him just yet

When he gazes back down again, that slow smirk returns to his face

“You like that, sweetheart? Hm? You like tasting my cock and drinking up all my cum?”

You nod, whimpering

And before he pulls out, you swallow down everything in your mouth

He curses one last time as your throat tightens around him

And then he’s releasing his grip in your hair and letting you disconnect from his pulsing length

Your throat feels raw and used, your mind swimming

“Now, what do we say after getting used like a good little cocksleeve?” he coos

You look up at him, still dazed and panting heavily

“Th-thank you, Daddy”

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta smut #slenderverse #hoodie #hoodie x reader smut #creepypasta x reader

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gojoslutoru · 3 years

Text

Markings part 2

Sukuna x fem!reader

Description: Sukuna comes home to the reader copying his markings onto her body with makeup as a surprise.

Warnings: NSFW, minors dni, grammar mistakes

Summary: Mirror sex, fingering, stomach bulge, smut

Wc: 1573

You throw your head back on his shoulder as he slowly works his fingers inside you, your chest heaving as he slowly brings up his other hand to fondle your breast a moan leaving your mouth against his ear as he curls his fingers against a specific spot “right there” you say breathlessly, he groans in your ear at your reaction, feeling him twitch against your thigh.

You grab a hold of his thigh to brace yourself against him as he keeps hitting your sweet spot, whimpers flooding from your mouth as you feel your orgasm building up slowly “what is it sweetheart? I can feel you tensing up should i stop?” he questions as he stops his ministrations making a whine leave your mouth “sukuna...” you trail off as you begin to grind your hips against his hand in a desperate attempt to gain friction, and in half hearted hope that he’ll stop his teasing without you needing to beg “you’re awfully jittery tonight” he hums against your neck as he places kisses against your sweet spot making you breathe out a ragged breath “why don’t you try using your words?” he suggests as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and trail them up to your under-stimulated clit drawing small circles as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“shame, you tend to communicate a lot and now you’re lost for words” his other hand trails up to your neck squeezing the sides slightly to coax a reaction out of you, his other hand pressing down firmly on your clit as you gasp and groan into his ear, he takes this chance to tilt your head towards him and kiss you pushing his tongue past your parted lips as you melt into him more.

Tears well up in your eyes slightly as you’re denied of your orgasm and being stimulated more as he watches you break slowly from behind you in the mirror, you lose your composure “please sukuna i want you inside me” you whimper but he doesn’t seem satisfied “you’re gonna have to be more specific than that” he breathes back his eyes locked on yours in the mirror “i want your dick inside me” you cringe slightly at the vulgar words leaving your mouth but eye Sukuna from the mirror knowing your embarrassment is all the more fun to him.

He locks eyes with you as he places a chaste kiss on your neck while moving your hair behind your shoulders as he finds a more comfortable position for you to sit in his lap, you lift yourself on your knees as you situate yourself above him holding his throbbing member steady in place when you begin to sink down on him, his hands now following your slightly smudged markings from your shoulders to your lower stomach nails slightly scratching at your skin leaving a burning sensation behind, his tip pushed past your entrance and you immediately throw your head back on his shoulder as you groan at the stretch “god you could have told me earlier if you wanted me that badly” he breathes as he now starts to feel you pulsing around him.

“Let me help sweetheart” he places a hand on your hip and another over your lower stomach his hand following the bulge in your stomach as he starts to push you down “f-fuck” you whimper in his ear bearly audibly as you hold back your breath while sinking further down on him, he bottoms out as you can now feel yourself sitting on his thighs his hand never leaving your abdomen as he was guiding his shaft into you “look at that, can you feel me in there?” he chuckles as he presses his hand down harshly on your stomach where his tip is, making him hit a deep spot in you that has you clenching around him and whimpering loudly in his ear “y-yes” you gulp as you finally let go of your breath, his hand hard on your stomach still as he slightly begins to move inside you making your chest heave “ohfuck-“ you moan at how undeniably good he’s working you with his slight movements “that feel good sweetheart?” he husks as he begins to slowly pick up his pace, pulling himself half way out of you before sliding you down on him again keeping his hand in the same position “please don’t stop” you whimper as he slides you down again this time meeting your hips with a harsh thrust upwards that makes your voice squeak at the end.

Your hand trails up next to you finding it’s place at the back of Sukuna’s neck as you open the view up to him more, he groans at the lewd sight, your chest moving up and down, your eyes hooded as you try your best to look at him through every thrust, your markings smeared across you especially around your face, you feel the burn of his eyes as he studies you while increasing the movement of your hips making each bob up and down more forceful than the previous you grab at his hair harshly as you let your head fall onto his shoulder with a loud moan as you feel him twitch inside you.

You hoist yourself up against him to allow him to drive into you more forcefully the ridges along his member massaging your insides as you feel yourself getting closer clenching around him when his arm starts rubbing circles on your clit “shit... keep doing that” he groans and you pulse at the command making him let out a moan as he keeps a steady pace of his hips “sukuna...” you pant against him as you tighten your grip on his hair making him look at you, you look back with pleading eyes, tears threatening to escape as you try and maintain eye contact while suppressing the urge to cry out at the stimulation “god you look so pretty like this, fucked out on the verge of tears, let’s see if i can make you cry”

He drops the eye contact as he starts biting your neck while thrusting deeper inside you and pressing on your clit more firmly, your head is limp the stretch in your neck painful as your arm drops from his neck to his hand on your hip that’s gripping so hard you’re sure it’ll leave bruises but it doesn’t matter, not when your head is filled with him as you feel his chest rumble against your back when a particularly lewd moan leaves your mouth “i’m coming” your voice coming out higher and more breathless than before, you push back into his chest as your orgasm washes over you your breathless moans amplified right next to his ear “ohfuck sukuna don’t stop! fuck ri-right there” is all you manage to squeeze out before you feel yourself clench around him as he still pounds into you a throaty groan leaving your lips before you cry out as he repeatedly hits a deep spot within your walls “there it is” he whispers against your neck as tears begin to stream down your cheek from the overstimulation “t-too much, haaa sukuna slow down” you scramble to grab his hand and pull it away from your clit but it’s not use when he’s just so much stronger than you.

“what is it sweetheart? cant take another orgasm after the first one?” he husks almost in a challenging tone even though you know he won’t stop, you turn your head to the side to breathe into his neck as your body begins to convulse around him again, your legs shaking as you grab his face to bring it towards your own engaging in a sloppy kiss as you occasionally stop to moan into his mouth which he gladly accepts. Your breathing is getting more erratic as you start to clench around him again, he pulls away from you to admire your fucked out face on the brink of another orgasm your eyebrows furrowing as the rolls of your hips become stuttered “c-coming” you choke out as your orgasm hits you a lewd moan leaving your mouth as he massages your clit faster than before making you clench around him tighter and feel him twitch “where?” he grunts as you can feel his hips falter a little “inside” you breathlessly tell him and he curses at your answer as he tightens his grip on you and drives into you deeper, you’re crying at this point tears streaming down your face as moan after moan is being pulled from your body by him as he prolongs your orgasm, not falling far behind as he snaps his hips into you again and releases his cum inside you with a moan as he slows his pace.

You stay like that for a while in his lap wrapped between his arms as you catch your breath “you were very vocal today” you state as you catch a glimpse of the sight in the mirror “did that bother you?” he shoots back as he meets your eye in the mirror “absolutely not, you should be vocal more often” you tell him feeling heat rise to your cheeks, he gives you a kiss on the cheek as he examines your now ruined makeup.

“all your work for it to be left as smudges”

“it was expected don’t be so shocked”

#sukunaxreader #smut #sukunaxreadersmut #jjksmut #markings #mirrorsex #ryoumensukuna #sukunaryoumen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #sukunasmut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna-x-reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader

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jakes-tummy · 2 years

Text

Nowhere Else

Chapter 21 [skate date]

Masterlist || Next

Warnings: None except i did cringe while writing these gross cliche lovey dovey stuff ngl LOL

WC: 0.7k

He had borrowed his parents’ car for the evening, pulling up to your house and texting you he had arrived.

Sunghoon had told you to dress warmly, which was the only hint he would give you to where you were going.

He ignored you when you try to ask for further information. You had no honest clue where your (fake) boyfriend was taking you.

You rush down the stairs, sitting on the bottom step to pull on your shoes and standing up to take a quick glance over your appearance in the mirror.

“Where are you going and what are you in such a rush for?” Yeonjun asked sternly, catching you before you could make it out the door.

“I’ll be with a friend, be back later!” You dart past him and out the door .

“Before midnight!”

“Fine!” You leave no room for further chit chat as you wrap yourself up in your coat and rush to get inside the car.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greets you, “Are you ready?”

You nod after putting on your seatbelt. “Will you please tell me where we’re going?”

“Hmmmm.... No.”

You huff and he laughs, starting the car and taking off.

“An Ice Rink?” You say, looking around the building in awe. You had forgotten what he told you about his old hobby and you were also pretty grateful he had told you ahead of time to dress warmly. The cool air radiating off the ice was already making your nose cold.

“Yeah, do you know how to skate?”

“I’ve only ever skated once and I was terrible at it,” you laugh in response.

“Come om. Let’s go get some skates and I can help teach you.”

Sunghoon found it cute how you clung to him as soon as you were on the ice, having a hard time keeping your balance without him.

“This is much scarier than I remember.”

He laughs at your comment. “Alright, we can take it slow. I won’t let go of you until you feel confident in yourself. Okay?”

You nod, thankful for his help.

He slowly and steadily guides you across the ice, keeping his promise and not letting go of your hands for a second. You slowly start to feel more comfortable with his guidance.

“O-Okay. I think I’m good now,” You say hesitantly. But how wrong you were. As soon as he let go of you, you lost your balance and slipped. You braced yourself for the impact of hitting the ground, but it never came. Sunghoon had managed to catch you in time. Thank god for his crazy reflexes.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re good,” he chuckles, helping you get back up straight.

Of course, when he pulls you up, you bump into his chest, looking up at him with a small smile. “Sorry...”

He pats your head and smiles back at you. “It’s okay.”

The two of you remain silent for a while. You slowly start to realize his face slowly coming closer to yours, your face burning up when you feel his breath fan across your lips, his own just mere inches away from yours.

Sunghoon takes a quick glance to the side before focusing his gaze on your lips. You brace yourself, still unsure what to expect but trying to remain calm about whatever was going to happen next.

“What were you expecting?” Sunghoon smirks cockily, hitting your forehead with his own. You open your eyes and look up at him embarrassedly, pouting and hitting his chest lightly. “Shut up, mister Park!”

“Come on~! What were you thinking about Miss Choi?” He teases.

‘I’m leaving!”

“Oh yeah? Can you even get off the ice by yourself?”

You huff, determined to do this yourself. “I can! I-I think I’ve got it down.”

You try rather ungracefully to skate away from him, making himi snicker.

“You suck at this,” he says, as he takes your hand with a roll of his eyes and helps you off the rink.

“What can i say? All I’m good for is Bandori, maths, and compliments.”

“Wanna see something cool while you’re here?”

You look up at him inquisitively. “Sure?”

“Okay. Watch me.”

He starts to show off his skills on the ice, smirking to himself when he catches a glimpse of you watching with sparkling, awe-filled eyes.

Yeah. This was it. He could totally get used to your eyes on him.

Synopsis: Park Sunghoon has had girls falling at his feet since his first year of high school and has always used the excuse of having a girlfriend to turn them down. However, when one girl asks him to prove said girlfriend’s existence, you become entangled in the mess. So, Sunghoon asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a while, unknowing of the fact you also harbour feelings for him and wish you were more than a fake.

@liliansun @mykalon @acciomylove @c9tnoos @pixyseeun @lionessmane @blossomnct @kyleeanne @meiiiwa @luvrjn @abdiitcryy @mymeloem19 @navsnct @itzsora @raspberrygyus @sungoohoon @dear-dreamie @hibuki-chan @luvrseung @stoatwashere @enhypenisnotforsale

#enhypenwriters #ficscafe #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enha sunghoon x reader #nowhere else

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Note

Hi! I saw prompt #196 and damn, I couldn't stop thinking about Andy 🥴

I hope this isn't too out there hahaha.

Work It Out

Warnings: implied noncon, cheating, two faced Andy

You hate everything. It feels like no matter what you do, you can't win. You're starving, you're sore, and exhausted. And the scale hasn't ticked a single number down. You were trying everything those fad diets and fitness guides told you. You just couldn't seem to shed the extra pounds.

Your days at the gym grew no less uncomfortable as you look around and see enviable bodies, younger, older, all of the above. Every body that wasn't yours.

You turn up the belt until you're jogging, almost too fast until you're sure you'll fall on your face. You try to meter your pants and keep from hanging your mouth open, instead puffing through your nose.

You wipe your forehead and feel a trickle of sweat on your lip as you brace the metal handbars and keep your feet moving. You bat away droplets with your lashes and flick away that on your lip with your tongue. You shakily pull on your shirt to air out the dampness and nearly stumble.

“Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?" The deep voice startles you and you clasp tightly to the machines as your soles crash down clumsily, "Cause if you did, we’re having sex right now.”

You saw the man every day as you went to the same treadmill. You would guess he's 40, maybe older, and in peak shape for one half his age. He leans an elbow on your machine as you gape at him and stammer at how he arches a brow. Your grip slips and you go hurtling back as you fall to your knees and fly off the back of the machine.

"Oh shit," you hear him as you catch yourself on your hands and gasp for air, muscles shaking, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your concentration."

You hear a beep and the belt stills before he nears you. He kneels down and touches your shoulder as you lift your head.

"I think… um, I misread the situation, I thought you were looking at me," he chuckles nervously, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you sit back on your heels and rub your hip, "just mortified."

"I really didn't…" he pauses and drops his hand from your shoulder, "wow, I should be embarrassed. These last two weeks I thought… well I thought you were looking at me and, geez, that guy on the lift machine must have thought I was winking at him."

"I don't know--" you touch your chest as you catch your breath, "what?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugs and stands up, offering his hand, "get a bit carried away watching you… that sounds weird, I'm sorry."

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You nod and smile awkwardly. "I'm flattered," you say thinly, "but… what would your wife think?"

You let go of his hand and look pointedly at his ring. He gives a tight-lipped smile and sucks his teeth, "separated… I just, uh, feel naked without it."

"Oh, sorry," you cringe, "that sounds, uh, complicated."

"Not really, just had to go to a new gym so I didn't see her with the other man," he scoffs, "that's too much information, huh?"

"You know, you just watched me land on my ass, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off, "but uh…" you try not to let your eyes drift but they do. He's fit and fine and you can't imagine any woman cheating on him but that ring was a problem, "look, I do mean it, it's flattering but I'd rather wait until you can take the ring off. It's… not something I wanna step in, you know?"

"Makes sense," his smile fell, "so…" he wiggles the ring off and tucks it into his pocket.

"Um," you look around but no one else seems to notice you or the man.

"Oh uh that was just an awful line," he shakes his head, "we can start with drinks."

You squint at him and bite your lip. His eyes follow and you make yourself stop.

"That's so hot," he says, "you sure you weren't looking at me?"

"You sure you were looking at me?" You counter, "uh, a drink sounds… fine but I might stick to water, as you saw I'm not great on my feet."

"Sure, I gotta finish my cool down but do you know The Frog?"

"Yeah, just down the block," you fill in.

"I'll be there at…" he checks his apple watch, "seven? Can I expect you?"

"Mhmmm," you nod nervously, half disbelieving and half humiliated.

"Andy," he offers his name and his hand. You shake it and give your own.

He winks and you try to hold a smile. You watch him go back to the weight bench before you retrieve your water bottle and retreat. You could hit the shower before the bsr and at least save a little face.

💪

You walk into the bar before you can lose your nerve. You look around in the dim light, certain this is a cruel trick. That man could not be interested in you. Even if he was halfway a divorce, it was too good to be true. You won't be surprised if you're stood up.

"Hey," you see the wave of the hand and hear the half shout.

You let out your breath and cross to the tall table in the corner. You smile and climb up on the stool across from Andy. He returns the gesture and looks over as a server approaches.

"Are we finally ready?" She asks sweetly.

"Stella," he orders and nods at you. You order a diet coke and the server smiles at Andy before she walks away.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you say.

"Nope," he says coolly, "you know, one drink couldn't hurt. It might ease the sting a little from earlier too."

"Hmm," you grin sheepishly, "there's not enough gin in the world for that."

"Oh, a gin girl, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks, "so how was the rest of your work out?"

"A work out," you scoff, "I thought exercise was supposed to be relaxing."

"Certain kinds are more effective," he lifts a brow and you roll your eyes at the flirty remark.

"Wow, you're such a cheeseball," you giggle.

"I'll take it," he says, "I usually get meatball, all brawn no brain."

"That's yet to be determined," you jibe and sit back as the server returns with your drinks and you thank her.

"No pressure," he says dryly, "none at all."

You laugh again. This Is easier than you expect. You've never been the smoothest and he was probably the best looking guy you ever talked to. No guy with his eyes and his jawline saw you past the skinny blondes and stunning insta models.

You lose track of time and finish your drink. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and only then realise how Andy's progressively shifted his stool around so he's right beside you. You need to take a breath.

You feel lighter when you come out from the bathroom and pass another woman on her way in. You slow as you get to the bar as you find Andy with his phone to his ear. You near quietly, hoping not to disturb his call.

"No, I'm still at the office," he says, "yeah… no I forgot to grab the dry cleaning, Laurie. Tomorrow, okay? Right, bye, hon."

He hangs up and you realise he's lying to the woman on the phone and you. You brush by his seat and grab your purse from the back of the chair where you slung it. He flinches as you pull out your wallet.

"So Laurie, that your wife?" You pick through your bills, "doesn't sound like you're separated."

"Woah, come on, let me explain," he tries to push your wallet away and you toss a five on the table, the tip would be as much as the drink itself.

"Explain what?" You rolls your eyes and scowl, "I'm so stupid."

You storm away and hear him shuffle before his stool wobbles and his steps follow you out into the night. He catches your arm and pulls you back before you can hail a cab.

"Look, I…" he drops his head, "we may as well be separated okay? She hasn't touched me in over a year, I sleep on the couch in my office… all we do is fight."

"So? Either get counselling or cut ties, but I'm not fucking with a married man--"

"I… I'm waiting until my son goes to college," he says desperately as you shrug him off.

"And in the meantime what? You pick up fat girls at the gym to fill the void--"

"You're the only girl--"

"Besides your wife," you spit, "wow, I feel special."

You turn and try to raise your hand. It's caught in mid air and you're pulled back by the back of your shirt. You look around but you're too far down for the bouncer to see you and there's no one else passing by.

Andy's thick arm snakes around your neck and his bicep pushes your chin up. He drags you around the corner and forces you toward an SUV. You bring your feet up and hit the side with your soles.

"The fuck?"

"Please, don't act like I'm not doing you a favour, honey," he gropes your ass as you struggle with him.

"Get off," you grunt as his hand slips over your hip and he turns you as he rips the door open.

"Shhh," he pushes you up into the back seat and you slip down on the floor.

You push yourself up and huff on your stomach. You reach to the other door as he climbs in behind you and the doors click as you grab the handle. He straddles your ass as his hand covers your mouth and he bends over you.

He presses his cheek to your temple and hushes you again. You see the shadows of pedestrians and their voices as they pass just outside. You murmur into his palm and claw at the door helplessly. Their steps fade into the distance as Andy grinds his crotch against your ass.

"Honey," he growls through his teeth, "I know you were looking at me…"

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #drabble #ask #request

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beigehearts · 3 years

Text

Yandere adult trio when you actually manage to land a hit on them Random drabble I came up with- needed to spoil yall since ive been gone- so ive got three drabbles Lemme know if you want Uvogin and/or Phinks- or if you want a nsfw version of this CW: blood, knives, stabbing

Illumi

Weeks have passed since you were taken from your comparably mundane life. You assume it's been weeks- it could have been longer. For the first time, you have woken up while man who has taken you is not home. He manages to stay at home until you're exhausted- since you won't sleep around him. That way once you collapse from exhaustion- he can escape to do whatever a man like him does.

It's been two hours since you have been stuffed into a kitchen cabinet. Your legs are cramping- and there's a sharp pain in your lower back. There's no way your body can handle being in this cramped position for another hour- hopefully he gets home soon. Or hopefully he never comes back.

You hear the unfamiliar sound of the front door opening, only after the multiple locks have been unlocked.

Click. Click. Click. His shoes tap on the cold floor with a methodical slowness. You hear him walk towards the room you are usually sleeping in when he gets home.

There are no more clicking of his shoes, just an eery silence hanging in the air. Your chance, this is it. You've learned how to silence your own actions- you had to in order to live with this emotionless monster.

Once you're standing upright, you sprint at him- knife in hand. He's quick but he also doesn't expect you to be just as fast. He moves so quickly that you can barely see him, but you drop to the ground, sliding against the wood floor. Your knife slices through his ankle, knowing that it could render his leg useless. There's no sound as you lay on the cold floor, a stand still between you and your captor.

"Interesting." His word is deafening. "I did not expect that of you." Illumi's voice remains calm. It remains calm as well when he grabs you by your arm, grip almost bone shattering. "It seems I have not trained you well." He says as if you're a dog.

You continue swinging, but it seems that Illumi doesn't even care about the damage you're inflicting on him. Cuts that are an inch deep- at least three of them. You glance down at his foot, seeing his pant leg soaked in blood, leaving a trail of it behind him as he drags you into the unknown. There's no humanly way possible he could be walking on a severed Achilles tendon. He should have bled out by now, or at least enough to go weak in the knees. The only answer is... that he's not human.

Your body goes limp- all fight draining out of you once you realize that there's no use. Illumi notices this, and pauses. "I'm glad you've come to your sense y/n." He bends down to your face, letting go of you arm and you fall against the floor. "It doesn't change what you've done." He points to his ankle, "It will take at least a week for my ankle to heal- my Achilles is completely severed."

Your eyes travel to the floor as he continues speaking, his words beginning to sound like fuzz. You snap back when a strong hand grabs your chin and tilts your face towards his. It almost feels as if his fingers are going to go through your jaw bones. "I expect you to look at me when I'm speaking."

Hisoka

He expects you to perform wifely duties. Well, mainly duties that take care of him. The eggs in the pan sizzle next to some greasy bacon. You're making breakfast like Hisoka told you to. He probably won't eat the food you make him, he just enjoys watching you make it.

The buzzing of the oven fan and churning of the coffee machine almost make it seem as if this were a normal situation. It's not though- the both of you know that.

It has taken you weeks to master the art of being unassuming. You've practiced doing something but showing no signs of that actions beforehand. Such as if you're going to pick something up that you don't look around for it first.

The tip tap of the magician's heels alert you to just how close he is to yo. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, "You look so good today y/n." He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your aroma, as if he can't get enough of it.

You pull a coffee mug from the cabinet above the oven, ignoring the man wrapped around you. The cup clinks against the counter and your heart jumps when you hear the coffee pot finish brewing.

The man releases you, perfectly on cue. You grab the coffee pot, spinning around and throwing the boiling liquid on Hisoka. You then leap forward while he's momentarily stunned, and bring the glass pot down on his head. It shatters and you take the chance to lunge for the door. You're stopped short when the man grabs your ankle and you face plant into the tile floor.

Your entire face will definitely be bruised in a few hours. Your head spins but the dizziness quickly turns into an excruciating pain all over your head. You crane your head backwards and look at him- somehow he just seems stronger. His skin is burned badly and is extremely red. He must have third degree burns. But he's smiling at you with crazed eyes. No, lustful eyes.

You yell when he pulls you to him by your leg. He straddles you and punches you in the neck. You yell turns into a heavy cough which turns into gasping noises. There will be no talking for the next few weeks.

"You're so cute when you defend yourself." You stare up at his untouched face and fear shoots down your spine. He leans down and licks a strip up the side of your face and brings his lips to your ear. "It only turns me on even more."

Chrollo

It’s as if the place you’re being held has no electricity. You’ve flicked on and off the light switches around the house but nothing ever happens. The windows are boarded up and no matter what you do- you can’t rip the boards away that are nailed into the window. Despite this extremely dark, and cold home, all of the furniture is quite nice. The bed fit for a king, soft and you just sink into it- which is where you spend most of your time since it’s the only place you can catch a fleeting sense of warmth.

The warm bed doesn’t compensate for the fact that you’ve been kidnapped by a man that insists on your affection and your quality time. He leaves every night- and it’s simply too dark to try and find keys for the door. There was only one way you will be able to escape- surprise attack him the moment he gets home and run out the door. You’ve tried to attack him before but your punches are futile against the tall man. He can just grab your wrists and throw you in the bedroom- locking it until you stop ‘throwing a tantrum’. As he puts.

There’s no better place to attack him then at the front door- before he gets the chance to defend himself. Though your fists obviously hold no power against this man- you’ll have to find something to hit him with. For hours before he comes home (according to your biological clock), you scamper around the house, checking every corner of it for something sturdy that you can pick up. Eventually you find a set of handcuffs. While they’re not ideal- they have heft and a whack to the face would leave any normal person reeling.

If your natural sense of time is correct, you only have a few minutes before he comes home. You stand next to the door and brace yourself- hoping that your reaction time is as good as you think it is.

You hear the footsteps down what you assume is a hall to this apartment. They stop in front of the door and your heart begins to pound. Each lock clicking is deafening in the quiet apartment. The door opens with confidence and you take your chance. With a wide swing of your arm you nail him in the face. The sound of the metal against skin makes you cringe but there’s no time to waste. You leap out beside him, sprinting down the pitch black hall as fast as you can. When hands grab your waist gently you screech, fighting his grip. As gentle as he’s being you still can’t escape him.

He brings your back against his chest, and he wraps one arm around your arms and torso, preventing you from hitting him. His other arm lays loosely around your waist. “You’re very resourceful y/n.” He purrs in your ear. “Thank you for trying your best and not holding back.” You continue squirming in his grasp but know what your fate is when he says, “Though it’s quite unattractive for a girl to be so feisty.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere illumi #yandere illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere hisoka #yandere hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #chrollo lucilfer #illumi zoldyck #hisoka morrow #hxh #hunterxhunter #yandere #drabble #drabbles

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

i love all your super angsty stuff, but sometimes i want to see dream go apesht and be powerful and confident and frightening again, y'know? maybe a little unhinged still but making everyone realize that THEY made this monster by putting him in the vault O_O

OH YEAH ,, unhinged c!dream my beloved (/lh)

c!dream when he’s a hot mess, ever so slightly (or not slightly) off the rails is SO much fun to write and read ,, he’s so messed up to himself and others and makes me go like >:D the entire time

im not sure if this is what you wanted, exactly, but boy was it fun to write. c!sam,, is not having a good day lmao

tw: blood, violence, implied torture, offscreen murder, death threats, mental instability, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sam critical (not really? But I digress)

Ranboo is in the wrong place in the wrong time.

He thinks, halfheartedly, that that could be the name of his autobiography. What To Do If The Universe Hates You, an Advice Book By Ranboo T. Beloved doesn’t sound too shabby, all things considered - it’s applicable, at the very least. It’d been true with George’s house, true for the Butcher Army, true when he’d been the one that Techno found in search for his armor back, true now, with sirens blaring from the prison that he’s coincidentally probably the closest to out of everyone on the server. Part of him wants to just ditch the place for Snowchester, as he was originally planning to do; unfortunately, caring about pretty much everyone means caring about what’s going on with their greatest enemy, especially now that Wilbur’s been revived.

Ranboo hurries towards the prison, dunking water by his feet to activate his trident. It only takes him a few Riptides (what can he say - he did say he was close to the prison) for the beach in front of the giant, dark-walled structure to come into sight, two figures stood in front of the smaller box containing the Nether Portal. One of them, standing tall and wearing glinting purple netherite, is clearly, unmistakably Sam, which means he other stranger- well, not stranger, exactly, must be Dream.

Ranboo skids to a stop on the hillside, not wanting to jump into the fray until he knows exactly what’s happening; Techno’s voice rings in his head (the element of surprise is one of your greatest weapons in battle) then Phil’s (what he means is don’t be an idiot, mate) and he settles, silent, to observe with an enderpearl readied in his hand.

It’s no wonder he didn’t recognize Dream, at first - he looks nothing like the man that Ranboo remembers, almost doesn’t look like a person at all. His hair is long and tangled, hanging in clumps around his face. Even from the distance, he looks like a wreck, all sharp edges and skinny, shaking limbs, a heavy netherite axe hefted in one hand. Ranboo shudders at the sight of the blood already on the blade, at the various injuries painting the orange of his prison uniform more red than orange, and looks to make sure his sword is close at hand.

“Prisoner,” Sam’s voice is gravelly, tight with stress. He sounds the same way he did that one time he confronted Ranboo about the prison books he didn’t remember signing, the pages filled with strange runes that he somehow could understand- “Stand down.”

“Sam-” Dream laughs, high-pitched and grating, and Ranboo’s tail lashes anxiously. Dream’s hand raises to his face, his shoulders shaking as the other hand tightens over the handle of his axe, “Awesam. Sammy- I told you, didn’t I? I fucking told you what would happen.”

“Dream-”

“Unless you want to end up like Quackity, I suggest you stop talking, Warden.”

It’s quite a sight to see someone in fully armored netherite cower from someone completely unarmored, looking more dead than alive, but well - it is Dream, and Ranboo finds himself cringing back at the words even though he’s not even in the area. He steals a look at his communicator; the rest of the server has noticed the sirens, it seems, but nobody seems to understand what exactly is going on, much less be ready for a potential fight, and a nervous shiver runs down his spine.

“Sammy,” Dream stalks forward, his axe braced in front of him, “Look at you. You’re so goddamn pathetic-” He spits the words like venom, back hunched, center of gravity pulled close to the ground - he looks more mob than human, watches Sam with the same wild-eyed desperation that Ranboo’s seen in a starving wolf chasing down prey, “Such a fucking coward that you couldn’t do shit yourself. Well- good for Quackity, isn’t it? It sure ended up well for him.”

Ranboo shivers, looking at the blood staining the netherite blade with ice rising in his chest. No- he didn’t-

“You know how good it felt to plunge this axe into his neck?” Dream laughs, the sound raspy and unsettling, making Ranboo shrink back in his hiding spot, “You know how many times he threatened to do the same to me? You know how many times he’s used this exact fucking axe to cave my ribs in?” He hurls the blade down and Ranboo reaches out with a wordless shout, watching as the axe strikes the earth in a spray of sand, “HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES, SAM?”

“Dream-”

“Don’t- You don’t get to call me that,” Dream pulls the axe back, looks up with another round of breathless laughter. “You- don’t you fucking dare.”

Sam draws back- Ranboo can’t place the expression that flashes over his face, something a little like fear, something a little like guilt. He doesn’t seem to try and say anything, a sword appearing in his hand.

“So you want to try this too,” Dream’s voice pitches low, becoming something hysterical, almost amused, “Sure! We’ll play. Try to last a little longer than Quackity, will you?”

He flashes forward, much much faster than he should with the amount of injuries that claw over his arms and legs, brings the axe down in a heavy clang that is only barely met by Sam’s sword. Ranboo looks left and right, tries to find others coming to the Warden’s aid, finds none. Dream’s pace is ruthless, bringing down the axe again and again, hardly reacting when Sam catches him by the arm on his blade. Sam hisses in alarm as the axe handle is swung into the inside of his arm, loses his grip on the sword as the back end of the axe catches it at the base. Dream heaves in shuddering breaths, axe clanging against Sam’s armor and sending the creeper hybrid toppling to the ground with a sharp exhale of breath, presses the bloody blade beneath his chin.

“You know-” He smiles, pressing the axe forward further, making Sam lift his head as he falls back against the sand, “You were kind of useful, you know? You and Quackity, I mean.” Dream hisses angrily, words pitching lower, “Do you know what’s the easiest way to make someone hurt? Do you know where to hit someone for it to cause the most pain? Do you know how it feels to break every bone in your fucking body? Quackity said he’d make every fucking day of my life a living hell.” He raises his axe, foot ground down on Sam’s arm, “How about I return the favor?”

Ranboo throws his enderpearl.

He raises his sword, braces against the vibrations running up his arms as the axe crashes down on it with a grimace as he readies himself to fight. Dream draws back for a second- “‘Boo?’

“Ranboo, run,” Sam shouts behind him, pulling his arm to his chest as he moves to stand, “Get out of here-”

“No, no, I think he can stay,” Dream’s eyes flash, harden. “Figures that he’d play the traitor once again, doesn’t it Ranboo?”

“I was never your ally-”

“You and the rest of this damned server, ‘Boo,” He laughs dangerously, draws back as Sam gets to his feet. Ranboo watches as he kicks up Sam’s sword, catching it in his left hand. “Oh well. As much as I would’ve liked to take another life-”

A flash of blue-green, and there’s someone else standing there, a crossbow loosely held in one hand, smiling lazily through his hair.

“-it looks like my ride out is here.”

“You’ve made quite the mess,” Wilbur drawls, rolling his eyes at the man beside him, “I have to say- I’m a little impressed.”

“Wil,” Dream breathes, shoulders visibly falling, looking at the other man with a sort of soft-edged reverence that makes Ranboo shift uncomfortably at the sight. It feels off, wrong, to see him go from a raging, frothing thing to someone docile, expression filled with a mockery of adoration.

“We’ll be off then, gentlemen,” Wilbur salutes with one hand, lips quirking up. “No hard feelings, Ranboo, Sam,” he nods at each of them with their names and tosses an enderpearl into the horizon, Dream doing so at the same time, “We’ll see you around.”

Ranboo watches, lungs heaving, as they disappear.

“...you know, Sam, I think we might be in a little bit of trouble.”

#tw blood #tw violence #tw torture #tw death threats #tw mental instability #tw murder #tw emotional distress #tw dark content #tw threats #long post #prison arc #pandora's vault #warden sam critical #c!sam critical #my writing :D #my asks !!

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l4verq · 3 years

Text

dumb theories | b.b

bucky barnes x reader

in which you have an incredibly dumb idea in hopes of seeing him again

warnings : angst, fluff

fic : one shot

a/n : kinda inspired by new moon, yall DON’T do this shit lol Bella was dumb. and so is y/n 😳

|| gif by @love-ha-fge ||

The first time it happened, you thought you were going insane.

You had to take the subway that day cause your stupid car wouldn’t start for some reason.

It would be the third day in a row that you were late if you wasted any more time and you were already tottering a treacherous line of possibly being fired due to “mandatory cutbacks”.

So, you make a mental note to ring up your sister cause she’s always known her way around cars and rush towards the metro station.

It’s a Wednesday, quite possibly the busiest you’ve seen the subway.

You clump your way through the swarm of people, eyes on the ground, trying not to step on others.

But it’s hard cause you’re in these ridiculously high heels that you were sure you’d love during a late night shopping spree.

And your worst fear comes true when your ankle buckles, legs wobbling as you try not to fall.

But a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you on to your feet.

It takes you a spilt second to whip your head around because you know it’s him, his touch.

You look around frantically, searching for those blue eyes that you’ve missed so desperately.

Your hope dwindles with each bump into a passerby, harsh reality sinking in again.

Which hurts the same as when he left you, a solemn farewell on the rooftop of your apartment.

“It’s safer for you if I’m not around.”

You could only stand and stare as he left, metal arm glinting in the afternoon sun, hoping he’d turn around.

The second time, you’re black out drunk in a random club with your co-workers.

Not your best look but you were too miserable to be alone that night.

A pep talk to yourself about how you deserve someone better than him and five shots later, he’s off your mind which feels nice, for a change.

But you could never really take alcohol that well so you’re bent over a toilet seat, hurling next to a couple making out.

You just wanted to go home.

But home wasn’t where your apartment was.

It was in the arms of a grumpy 106 year old supersoldier, who looked way too good for his age.

The next day, you’d woken up in your bed, neatly tucked in.

Everything the same as before, only the window, you always kept shut, was wide open.

Sometimes you could swear, you see a tint of ivory out of the corner of your eye, while in the grocery store, in the park, on your way to work.

But you always find nothing when you glance over.

Your sister claims your misery is progressing to delusions, that you need to get laid.

You flick her off, half convinced by her theory.

Yet here you are, hands clutching on to the railings as you try not to look twenty stories down.

You had your own theory to test out.

Not your smartest idea, could possibly be the last idea you have.

But the consequences somehow seemed to dull at the thought of possibly seeing him again.

You teeter to the very edge, hands slowly letting go as you fall.

It’s all a blur of wind and glasses until everything goes black.

“You got lucky,” The man smiles, “Bucky took most of the hit.”

He introduces himself as Finnick, a pudgy man with thick rimmed glasses.

“Are you a doctor?” You croak, eyes skimming over the tubes jammed in your arm.

You were propped up against a pillow, a machine beeping next to you.

He gets up to leave, “Close enough. All you need is one more good night’s rest and you’ll be good as new.”

You close your eyes as your stupid decisions come rushing back to you.

“Is he-.”

“Pissed, yeah. He’s been waiting for you to wake up since Tuesday.” Finnick smiles, sadly.

Tuesday? How many days had it been?

You don’t have time to think cause he arrives at the door, in his daunting kevlar suit.

The stupid mask over his pretty face once again.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as you brace yourself for him to chew you out.

But instead he storms in and pulls you in a tight embrace, stoically.

Your free hand limps around his waist.

You smile cause you’ve missed this so much and so has he.

But he pulls away and gruffs, “That was stupid.”

You avert your gaze to the floor, gnawing at your lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it. You could have died.” His voice breaks.

All the what ifs had haunted him for the past two days as you laid unconscious, regretting ever leaving you.

“I kinda did when you left.” You confess, unable to meet his eyes.

His rugged hand reaches to lift your chin to look him in his coarsened blue eyes.

It’s at times like this when he wants to run away with you somewhere safe, where he could tell you how much he loves you.

But he knew his demons would catch up to him, they always did.

And he couldn’t let them taint you too.

“You’re dramatic.” His face softens underneath the mask.

You smile and he smiles too thinking about how he’d fall off another building just to see that again.

Hand slowly reaching out to the back of his mask, he flinches slightly as you pull it off.

The only person he’d let touch his face willingly.

You notice a new ridged line leading from his mouth to his ear.

“S’nothing.” He assures you, your finger tracing the mellowed scar.

“Did it hurt?” You ask, already knowing what he’d say.

You never asked much about what he did, but you knew enough.

Why he couldn’t stay the night, why he sneaked out your window each time.

He shakes his head, kissing your hand.

“Do you have to go?” You whisper, heart sinking again.

He had to.

Hydra still did daily check-ins though the ‘treatments’ stopped years ago and he couldn’t risk anything.

Not when so much was on the line.

“Only after you fall asleep.”

“And when I wake up?”

“I’ll be right next to you.”

a/n : smone stop me frm commiting infidelity, tfatws is making me fall for bucky even more and steve’s pissed😳🏃🏻‍♀️ lol im still cringing as i post this👁👽

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (1/5)

part one of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, eventual smut.

a/n: at the end. @tiffdawg, I finally did it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Your alarm buzzes, and you roll over groggily.

0615.

Goddamn. You flop a pillow over your head, blocking out the early morning sun, and wonder if three hours of sleep is any better than no sleep at all.

Somehow, you kind of doubt it.

The alarm blares again, a failsafe you’d been wise enough to set up after round two had led you to the shower. You gather your still-damp hair, wincing at how gross that feels, and elbow Peña in the shoulder.

“Morning, sunshine!” You toss your soggy pillow onto his face.

He grunts pathetically, cracks an eye just enough to send you a sliver of resentment, and lifts a middle finger vaguely in your direction.

You’re completely unsympathetic. “Not my fault this time, Peña.”

He curses you in Spanish as you flick on the lights on your way to the kitchen. Coffee is your first order of business.

You’re not sure exactly when Agent Peña became a fixture in your apartment. Oh, you can nail down the general timeline pretty well - a night out with the Search Bloc boys had ended with Peña coming to your place, and things had unfolded naturally from there. The sex was good. Very good. You’ve always had a high drive, and Peña is a man who can deliver. You’re pretty creative, and he’s fairly open minded, and neither of you seem to care to make things complicated with Labels and Conversations. Somewhere down the line, wild nights out evolved into even wilder nights in, and then, before you knew it, you’d let Peña borrow your spare key when he’d left his wallet on your coffee table.

That had been at least two months ago. The sex is still good, and Peña is still leaving his shit everywhere, so neither of you bothered to say anything about it.

It works. That’s all that matters.

You’ve just sat down with your drink in your hands as the doorbell buzzes. “What the fuck?” You glance at the kitchen clock. It’s not even 0630.

The doorbell buzzes again.

You eyeball the gun that Peña has left lying on the kitchen counter. Nobody should be looking for you this early in the morning.

“Hey!” Somebody is knocking now, and shouting, and ugh, you recognize that voice. You leave the gun where it is - somewhat reluctantly - and slam open the door with a ferocity that sends Steve Murphy stumbling into your kitchen.

“Good morning,” you say serenely.

“Good morning to you, too, Ears,” Murphy grimaces up at you.

“That’s not my name,” you remind him for the thousandth time. Not that it will make any difference. Ever since you’d made the mistake of introducing yourself as Centra Spike’s new liaison by saying, “I’ll be your ears,” the Search Bloc boys had leapt at the opportunity to tease. You’re pretty sure most of them don’t realize that you have any other name.

Somehow, it irks you more coming from Murphy.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as politely as your temper allows. Murphy has never been your favorite person, and your caffeine definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.

Murphy rights himself, fixing you with a glare that doesn’t threaten in the slightest. “I’m looking for Javi,” he says. He has the audacity to glance around your tiny living space, as if he’d come with a search warrant.

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of your too-thin nightshirt, and lift a brow in Murphy’s direction. “And what makes you think he’d be here?”

Murphy pins you with an ‘I see right through your bullshit’ expression. “Call it a hunch.”

Right on cue, footsteps clatter down the kitchen stairs. Murphy smirks. You don’t bother to hide a sigh.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Peña echoes you unconsciously. You try not to cringe at the smug glance Murphy throws your way.

Instead, you turn to glare at Javi, and oh god.

His shirt is buttoned all wrong, hanging lopsided and displaying half his chest, if he’d just given up at the top.

Subtle.

Murphy apparently doesn’t have the stones to address it, because he waves a manilla folder in front of Peña’s face. “Special delivery,” he says, dropping the file on your coffee table with a smack.

Peña dives for it, brow furrowed. Whatever he sees must be good, because he snaps his head up to stare at Murphy. “Where did you get these?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“My contact in Medellín.” Steve rests his hands on his belt ever so casually, as if daring Peña to question him.

Peña does. “Since when do you have a contact in Medellín?”

You wonder the same. Partners are usually aware of each other’s informants, unless it’s that kind of contact. Isn’t Murphy married?

“Not important.” Murphy shuts him down quickly.

“Verdugo,” Peña breathes.

You shoot a questioning glance at Murphy. In the three months you’ve been in Colombia, your Spanish is rapidly improving, but Murphy has been here longer, and some things are still beyond you. “Butcher,” he translates with a grimace. “Or executioner. One of Escobar’s top sicarios.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lovely.”

Peña glances up, surprised to hear you speak, as if he’d forgotten that he’s standing in your living room.

Murphy doesn’t acknowledge you. “He’s in Medellín, Javi.” He stretches, then makes for your front door. “I’m gonna turn in for a bit. Late night.”

Peña grunts, settling on your sofa with the file as Murphy sees himself out.

You sidle up behind him, curious. He knows you’re there - your hair is falling over his shoulder and you’re doing nothing to stifle your breathing, but Peña’s only acknowledgement of your presence is to shift his body ever so slightly to the left, unspokenly granting you access to the file.

You bite your lip, pleased and a little unnerved at the implication. You suppose that Peña wouldn’t be Peña unless he’s breaking the rules. He certainly has a reputation for it.

It hits a little differently, though, knowing that he’s committing a felony just to satisfy your curiosity. And on your fucking sofa, too.

You shake the butterflies away. Peña is flipping through a series of grainy photos, each showcasing the same guy. Somebody, Murphy probably, has circled his face in red ink, and there are further notes in the margins, written hastily. Landmarks, you guess. Peña is reading too fast for you to decipher much, but you spot a map of what you assume is Medellín in the shuffle. It is similarly annotated with scrawling red ink.

Peña flips through the file once, and then again, slower.

You brace yourself on on your forearms, glancing at the clock. You aren’t expected at the embassy until eight - you can afford to be patient.

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Deciding you’ve gleaned all you can from the file, you turn your attention to Peña. He’s leaned forward on your sofa, arms on thighs, lost in thought. Every muscle is tensed, as if he could spring up at any moment, his gaze is narrowed, his brow furrowed in a way that tempts you to lick it.

The thought startles you. You aren’t a goddamn animal.

Are you? Your mind drifts to Murphy, smirking with his arms folded in your kitchen like he could see through your nightshirt, right into your fucking brain.

A stone sinks in your chest. Landing this position with Centra Spike had been your first big break in a lifetime of frustrations. You’d joined the army fresh out of school, angling to be an analyst with the special forces. The good ol’ U. S. of A. had gladly foot the bill for your education in exchange for you signing your life away, and you’d chugged through a mind-numbingly boring double major of mathematics and computer science, all on the sage advice of your recruiter.

The reality of active duty was a kick in the fucking teeth. The brass had taken one look at you - a wide-eyed, idealistic woman with a big hair and bigger goals - and promptly slapped you with a desk job. You’d spent three more years rotting away in a forgotten back corner of an office building in Kuwait, filing reports and delivering messages. Occasionally, they’d throw you a bone and hand you a code to rewrite. Your commanding officer got all the credit, and you were just a glorified secretary.

By the time your contract was up, you’d been sidelined, interrupted, passed-over, underestimated, scoffed, and just flat-out ignored enough to be thoroughly fed up with military life. The glass ceiling in the U.S. Army is raised just high enough to suffocate its victims slowly, and you were sick sick of being stifled.

Being recruited by the CIA for analyst work in the hunt for Pablo Escobar had been pure, dumb luck. Right now, you might just be a liaison, but this is your shot. Your last one, probably, and you’re not willing to give it up just to get laid.

Not even for the best lay of your life.

Peña slaps the file shut with gentle smack, startling you from your thoughts. He reaches for his boots, moving with a single-minded determination that you’d find sexy if it weren’t so damned inconvenient.

“Peña.”

He doesn’t react, just gathers his badge and keys from the end table as if you aren’t even there.

“Peña.” You say it louder this time.

“Hmm?”

“Javi!” You call his name without even realizing it, and it works. His head snaps up, eyes wide, staring at you as if he’s just now seen you for the first time.

You have his undivided attention now.

“Yeah?” He blinks, all wide brown eyes, and fuck it all, you can feel yourself flushing under his gaze.

You swallow hard, push past the strange flutter in your chest. “We’re getting too predicable.”

His brow furrows. “Come again?”

You decide to take the high road, but you can’t stop your lips twitching at the obvious joke that he’s left himself open for. He’s quick to follow your though process, though - his eyes sparkle with laugher, daring you to call him on his blunder.

Shit.

You press on. “This,” you start, grimacing. He’s still looking at you, and his expression is warm. Flirtatious. “What we’re doing…” Goddamn, your face is aflame. “I mean, we’re not exactly subtle.”

He draws back, expression shuttering instantly. “Don’t worry about Murphy,” he says firmly. “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

The ‘if he knows what’s good for him’ is clearly implied.

“It’s not just Murphy,” you press. You can’t exactly put into words what it is that you're trying to make Peña understand, you just know it's important that he does.

“What are you suggesting?” He’s standing now, still holding the file against his chest, as if to defend himself with it.

You shake your head. “I think,” you say slowly, trying hard not to catch his eye, “that we need to cool it.”

Silence. You can feel his raised eyebrow.

You step forward. You’re focusing hard on finding the right words without revealing too much, but your hands are desperate for something to do. “We need to stop fucking around.”

There, you said it.

“Oh?” There’s something amused in his tone, but you shrug it off, still refusing to look at him.

“Yeah,” you answer hotly. “Isn’t this fraternization? Shouldn’t we be worried about our careers, or some shit? We both have a lot to lose here.” You glance up, emboldened by your speech. “Do you want to catch Escobar or not?”

He’s looking down at you, not taking you the least bit seriously, expression damn near indulgent.

Indignation sets a fire in your chest.

“You think you can just quit me, cold turkey,” he asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

Goddammit, he’s mocking you.

“Absolutely.” You look him firmly in the eye, former awkwardness forgotten, more determined than you’ve ever been.

He huffs directly in your face. “You won’t last a week, Ears.” He cups your cheek in his hand, skimming your jawline with his thumb. “I know you, remember.”

Oh, the bastard. “You think you can go longer?” You counter, stepping into his chest. You’re pissed now. Peña is a well-known man whore, and you know, know, that you are exactly his type.

He laughs now, openly and genuinely amused. “Longer than you,” he says, glancing down at where your hands are absently fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

Oh, fuck.

“I’m fixing you, you absolute asshole,” you hiss, beyond grateful that you’ve yet to undo his last cockeyed button. “Unless you want to show up at the office all freshly fucked and lopsided.” You hold up the hem of his shirt, clearly displaying his mismatched edges.

“Oh.” At least he has the grace to look abashed.

“Yeah,” you swallow dryly, suddenly aware of how close he his, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, sex and the scent of your own bedsheets.

Goddamn, you want him already.

You push it all away, patting him condescendingly on the chest. Two can play this game. “Just looking out for your career, Agent Peña.”

He sighs somewhat theatrically, but you can see the conflict warring in him.

“Well, then, Ears,” he says after a long moment. He rebuttons his shirt properly this time, fingers working quickly. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

You meet his gaze evenly. “Guess so.”

The door shuts behind him, and you sink to the sofa. It’s still warm from where he’d been sitting.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

♠

You’re not watching, you’re not, but you can’t help but notice when Peña comes swaggering into the office at ten am, wearing those sunglasses and those fucking too-tight, dark wash jeans, chugging a cup of coffee like he knows that his exposed neck is a weapon.

You make eye contact through the glass, just for a moment, and he winks at you.

You smirk back, a plan forming in your mind.

This means war.

♠

You retaliate by letting your hair curl wild over your shoulders and squeezing yourself into a leather skirt that is just barely work appropriate. The Search Bloc boys bombard you with whistles and winks and catcalls all day.

It’s worth it, though, to see Agent Peña’s eyes go wide and blinking, to watch him swallow so hard.

“Fucking tease,” Murphy hisses as you glide past his desk.

You flip him off in response.

♠

Your apartment feels strangely empty.

It’s Saturday afternoon. Search Bloc is investigating a tip in Medellín, and Centra Spike doesn’t need you in today. You briefly consider going out, but that would involve changing out of your sweats, and besides, aside from the Search Bloc guys, you really don’t have many friends in Colombia.

You sit down on your sofa, drawing the coffee table toward you, and deal yourself a hand of solitaire. The cards had belonged to your dad before he passed them down to you, and they are comfortable in your hand, worn soft with age. There’s a trick to shuffling a deck this old, and something comfortable in the practice.

The hand you deal is a losing hand.

Frustrated, you stomp down the stairs to the little pharmacy below your flat. “Hola, Emilio!” you wave to the older man working the counter. Emilio doesn’t speak much English, and your Spanish is improving slower than you’d like, but you mostly manage to communicate just fine.

You make your way to the little display of liquor bottles and ponder it for a minute. There’s nothing remotely recognizable on the shelves, but you’re not exactly committed to buying anything, anyway.

There’s nothing more pathetic than drinking alone.

A presence at your shoulder makes you jump. It’s just Emilio. He smiles at you, and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor whose packaging reminds you a little too much of antiseptic hand spray for comfort. He presses it into your hands. “Guaro.”

“This is what I need, then?” you ask him. “Este? It’s good?”

“Guaro.” He’s nodding and grinning, rattling something in rapid-fire Spanish that you’re far too slow to translate. The enthusiasm behind it is hard to miss, though.

“He says it’s good and strong. Respect it, and it will respect you.” Emilo’s daughter winks up at you. She’s bent over, stocking shelves, and you’d missed her, distracted as you’d been by your conversation with Emilio.

You smile gratefully. Ana must be home from university this weekend. You’ve only met once or twice, but she’s kind, and doesn’t mind translating for you. You think you might have been friends, if she was around more.

“Gracias,” you tell her, and mean it. “Aguardiente,” you sound out slowly, frowning down at the bottle. “Sugar water?”

“Something like that.” Ana rises, leaving the box of chicharrones on the floor. “You’ll find that most of the locals just call it guaro. It’s a staple in Colombia. Hard to find anywhere else, and even transporting it between cities is dangerous.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, as if to say, ‘what’s new?’

“But it’s just liquor, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Alcohol, sugar, anise…” She shrugs, and laughs. “Simple, but there’s something magic about it. You don’t want to go too hard with this. Sit down and have a small glass with a lime. Slower is better.”

You frown. Anise. It jogs something in your memory, some long-forgotten fact…

“Trust me.” Ana is at your elbow now, pinning you with an earnest stare. “It hits hard, and fast. Papa wasn’t lying.”

You laugh. “Is that the college experience speaking?”

“Oh, yes. Seguro.”

Ana follows you as you take the bottle of guaro to the register. “And how are your classes going?” you ask as Emilio rings you up.

Ana grimaces, shaking her head as she cuts her gaze to Emilio. “It’s good to have a little break,” she admits.

You sympathize with that. You hadn’t cared too much for the tedium of higher education either. Emilio hands you a little paper bag, and you wave goodbye to him with a smile. “I’ll have to catch you when you’ve got a free weekend,” you tell Ana as you head toward the stairs that lead to your flat. You hold up the liquor suggestively. “You can teach me all about how to respect this guaro.”

Ana laughs. “What are you doing this evening? We close up at eight.”

Your face breaks into a grin. It’s hard making friends in Colombia just with the language barrier alone, never mind that your work with Centra Spike forces you to keep so many secrets. Without Peña around, life here is lonely. But Ana seems innocent enough, and it’s just a drink. “Perfect! I’ll be here.”

You walk up the steps feeling much lighter than when you descended them.

♠

Ana doesn’t stay long. She looks around your apartment, carefully assessing, then nodding as if satisfied.

You let it go.

She teaches you to tap the bottom of the bottle to expel the liquor, almost as if you’re pouring ketchup from a glass container. Looking at the contents, they don’t seem particularly viscous. When you ask her why this is necessary, Ana shrugs. “It’s a mystery,” she tells you, and you write it off as one of the eccentricities of Colombian culture, paying rapt attention as Ana begins explaining one of only three acceptable ways to serve the guaro.

♠

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce brightly, slapping both hands firmly on Javier Peña’s desk and leaning in just a hair too close to be strictly professional.

“Oh?” His face breaks into a slow smirk, and he tilts back in his swivel chair, stretching just enough to give you a good view of those too-tight jeans as he hooks his fingers behind his head. “And what’s that?”

Smug fucking bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. You cool your jets and wink at him, teasing a manilla file for him to see. “We thought you might like this.”

“We?”

“Okay, fine, Jacoby caught some chatter, but I vetted it,” you press on, refusing to let him derail you. This is huge. “It’s Verdugo.”

Peña glances up at you, suddenly intense. “You sure?”

“Well, it’s not him personally,” you admit. “At least, not his voice. But,” You slam the transcript down on his desk. “We caught an entire conversation verifying his presence at a safehouse in Medellín.” You pause for full dramatic effect before going in for the kill. “A specific safehouse in Medellín.”

Javi reverts to Agent Peña instantly, all flirting forgotten as he leans forward on his elbows. “Show me.”

You bend over, noticing absently that your hair is once again falling into his face as you tap your finger over the address. Peña settles in to read the full report as you watch, his eyes darting back and forth over the pages at a rate that is truly impressive. When he glances back up at you, the ferocity of his gaze is startling.

“They’re getting ready to make a move.” There’s something like a spark of hope in his eyes, tiny, but growing stronger as he processes the information you’ve given him.

“Yeah,” you say, throat suddenly dry. He’s looking at you with earnest gratitude, and it tugs at something deep in your chest.

“This is big,” he breathes, and just like that, he’s on his feet, gathering the file, punching a number into his desktop telephone.

“This is Peña,” he says as the call connects. “We’ve got something.”

♠

It’s dark when you finally get home. Claudia Messina, head of DEA operations in Colombia, had cornered you in her office for hours, going over and over the information you’d vetted. You brain is absolutely fried, the victory of the discovery stifled by having to defend your work again and again.

You just need a drink.

“About time!” a voice startles you as you turn to shut the door behind you. You jump, barely suppressing a shriek, and whirl around.

Goddamn Javier Peña with his goddamned spare key.

He’s smirking at you from your sofa, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Any other day, you’d have noticed his presence instantly just from the smell.

“What the fuck?” Your voice is more of a whine than you’d like, but dammit, you’re tired, and dammit, he’s gotten one over on you.

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. “Expecting somebody else?” he asks, sauntering toward you with a devastating smile that manages to be both possessive and suggestive all at once.

“No,” you answer somewhat grumpily. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Given your sulky attitude, you’re surprised to see that his smile brightens a bit. You frown at him, still confused as to why the fuck he is here, and he bustles into the kitchen, clinking around, pouring you a drink.

You sigh and relax onto the sofa. At least you’ll have that.

He comes back, a tumbler of clear liquor in each hand. Ah, so he’s found your guaro. You suspect that he’s helped himself to at least one measure already. He hands you a glass, and you take it gratefully, sniffing at the contents.

He’s drinking it neat, apparently.

“So!” he says, settling beside you on the sofa, close enough that your thighs touch. He pins you with an intense stare. You raise a brow in response, intrigued and a little confused.

He smiles. “Your tip from this morning was a gold mine, Ears.” He eases back, propping his feet on your coffee table in a way that you should probably reprimand him for. He sips, sighs, leans in to bump your shoulder playfully, then settles with his hands at his waist, long fingers fiddling with the glass he’s cradling. “Martinez wants us to go for Verdugo tomorrow,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “Based on your information.”

“Really?” You can hardly believe it. Most of what you do is verify things that others have found, or carry files from Centra Spike to Search Bloc. Same old, same old. Even though you’ve trained for this for years, you’ve never been integral in interpreting and locating a conversation before, especially not for a target as high level as Verdugo.

Javi twists to smile up at you, a real smile. “Really,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. He watches you fight back a grin. “Go on, be smug. This is big.”

“Wow,” you mouth, somewhat awed that you’ve contributed anything, let alone this, to the hunt for Pablo Escobar.

The reaction isn’t lost on Javi. He sits up, wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes gently. “Pretty much. You gave us enough information that we feel confident about initiating a sting in Medellín.” He reaches up with both hands, catching your face at the edge of your jaw and drawing you close. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Ears.”

Ears. Yours are burning at the heat of his touch. You’re acutely aware of his palms cupping your cheeks. His eyes are dark, too dark, and open, looking at you as if you’ve single handled handed Escobar to the DEA on a golden platter.

You suppress a shudder, leaning in to him as he pulls you in for a hug. Christ, his body feels so good as it cradles yours, arms snaking around your back, stubble gritting awkwardly into your cheek, the scent of smoke and liquor clouding you -

You wonder, abruptly, how much he’s had to drink.

“Peña,” you say swiftly, pulling away from him to stand. The way he’s looking at you right now, giddy and awestruck and openly hungry, well, it’s not going to last. You know it won’t. It can’t.

His face falls, as if he’s confused at your sudden rejection.

You shake your head. Peña is just drunk. You guys aren’t like this. You don’t hug and share and hold each other. It was only ever sex, and it’s not even that anymore.

You’re overwhelmed, suddenly and without warning, at how desperately you want him.

Not just the sex, though honestly, you have missed that. No, what you want is -

You shove that thought down, locking it away so deeply that it will never see the light of day.

You cannot have feelings for Javier Peña.

“Ears?” he questions, tilting his head just so, managing to look more sober than he has all evening.

“I just need another drink,” you say as you sidestep him, making your way to the kitchen. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as his gaze follows you. He seems to take your deference at face value - he’s lighter than you’ve seen him in weeks, excited, almost chipper, if you can believe it. The meeting with Martinez must have gone very well. You snort, contrasting his meeting to yours with Messina. The dissonance is enough to wonder, offhandedly, if some not-so-subtle sexism is at play.

You shake off that thought. It’s not helpful, just depressing, especially here in Colombia. Instead, you turn to look at Javi.

He’s still flopped on your sofa, his original drink in his hand, hunched over the stack of playing cards that you’d left out last night.

Your dad had taught you to play solitaire from a young age. There’s a variation for two players, a game which one will inevitably win, but the real challenge is for the single player, in which triumph relies equally on skill and luck. Last night, after Ana had left, you’d played a long, brutal game, ultimately finding yourself blocked, helpless to do anything but shuffle the deck over, and over, and over again.

Losing two games in a row is just shameful, and you’d left the cards on the table, eager to look at them again with fresh eyes.

Javi eyeballs the game with a furrowed brow. You’d managed to make it quite far. Had the cards fallen in any different order, you’d have won easily. Carefully, Javi flicks over one card from the stack, frowns, then another. This one is a red queen, and he plays it eagerly, shuffling the black jack to its new position and opening up another space.

“Hey!” you protest. He glances up at you, bemused, and you shove a newly made drink into his hand as you settle beside him.

“You missed that move,” he explains, pointing exaggeratedly with the pinky finger that holds the tumbler.

You roll your eyes. “I play draw three,” you correct him. You reshuffle the cards to their original places, this time drawing three from the deck: a five of spades on top, Javi’s red queen in the middle, and the ace of spades below both. The top card, the five of spades, has no place to be played, so you flip all three cards into the discard pile and draw three more from the deck.

Javi frowns. “Seems like you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be.”

You sigh. Men. “Single draw solitaire is for kids,” you counter with a vicious smile. “Just for them to learn to play the game. Real players draw three.”

He huffs, “Oh, really?” he’s smirking up at you, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Are you the kind of woman who likes a challenge, Ears?”

He’s just dying to prove you wrong.

“I’m the kind of woman who refuses to cut corners just so I can win a dumb card game.” you inform him sagely.

“Hmmm,” he says, staring contemplatively at the cards. You let him shuffle through the deck twice, each time verifying what you already know - the game, played as it is, is unbeatable.

‘Seems a little silly to me,’ he teases, bopping you on the nose. “Letting your ego get in the way of winning.”

Of course Javier Peña would see it that way. You kick back, letting your feet settle at the edge of the coffee table. “Go on then,” you tell him, siping at your drink. “Swoop in and save my game with your kiddie version, you fucking hero.”

He laughs overtly at that, eyes sparkling, and something clenches hard in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so open, laughing and flirting and playing stupid games after a long day at work.

It’s nice.

You settle in to watch him work his magic. He’s making plays at an alarming rate - it seems like no time at all before the deck is empty.

You glance at the clock, biting back a sigh. Less than five minutes.

He’s smirking up at you, all mussed and smug, eyes alight with warmth, and suddenly, something swoops dangerously in your belly.

That hair, those eyes, his laugh. Warm skin in the dim glow of the lamplight, his body sprawled over your sofa, just begging to be teased.

You wonder again why he’s here. You’ve made it clear that there’s no more sex, so…

Oh, god.

Glancing back down at him, tousled hair and crooked smile, ridiculous mustache, plopped indelicately on your sofa, you suddenly realize.

Javier Peña had sought you out for your company. For no other reason than that he’d had a good day, and wanted to share it with you.

And oh, oh god.

You’re still so caught up in the sex and your fucking feelings that you can’t divorce that from your friendship, which is obviously important to him. He’s not out celebrating with Murphy - he’s here, in your apartment, with no expectation other than to kick your ass by cheating at children’s card games.

The realization takes the breath from your lungs.

You’re the problem here. Just like with the fucking card game, you’re the one making it complicated.

Javi needs a friend.

Javi needs a friend, and he’d sought you out so that you can just chill together, and all you can think as he shuffles those damned cards is how the callouses of his fingers would catch deliciously against your clit as he dips them inside you.

And, and…

You cut off that dark thought. You are not going there.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend are you?

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” you say. It’s a beat too late and obviously hollow, but Javi doesn’t seem to notice, and you’ve managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, so that’s a win. You rise, making for the kitchen, desperate to do something with your hands. You find yourself pouring Javi yet another drink - is this his third? Or fourth? You aren’t sure - and making yourself a second, much lighter version.

The last thing you want is to do something stupid.

Javi meets you at the kitchen bar, and you slide the tumbler across to him. He eyeballs it speculatively, raising it and tilting it to view the contents in the dim kitchen light.

“Goddamn, Ears.” He snorts. “Are you trying to poison me?”

The denial falls from your tongue as he tilts back his glass from earlier, his second, - or third? - the one that you’d made. He swallows, pushing the empty glass back into you hand, and stands, catching himself on the edge of the table as if he’d moved too fast.

“Alright?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath, then straightens, slowly letting go of the countertop. “Fine,” he says, cocking a brow at you. “But what is that stuff?”

You laugh. “Emilio, you know, from downstairs, he found it for me. Says it’s a Colombian staple, and I can’t leave without having a bottle at least once.”

Javi blinks one too many times, then giggles. Despite your best effort, you snort at the sound. "Well then,” he raises his full tumblr to your half full one, and they clink awkwardly. “To local rotgut and poor life choices,” he toasts, as solemnly as he as able.

“Salud!” you counter, managing to sound a just a hair more sober. Javi is swaying as he stands, and suddenly, you’re concerned. “When did you last eat?”

He glances at you, tilting his head as if your question makes no goddamn sense, and you sigh heavily. Idiot man.

“Okay, hold off on that one,” you warn him - he looks as if he’s about to toss it back, too. “Let me at least make you some eggs first.”

“Eggs?”

You’re already bustling around your tiny kitchen, pulling a pan from below the stove. “Yeah, moron,” you tell him, unable to stop the grin that catches your lips. “Eggs and salsa. Best food for staving off a hangover that I’ve found so far.”

Javi throws back the rest of his drink anyway, then comes to press his body to your side. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a fucking science,” you counter, unable to resist slamming your hips into his to nudge him out of the way as you reach into the fridge for the butter.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I be of assistance?” he purrs into your ear, and suddenly, it’s very, very hard to concentrate on cooking.

“Sit. Down.” You hiss, slapping his butt with a dishtowel. He yowls more than strictly necessary, the drama queen; you’re an excellent towel-popper, but it shouldn’t hurt that much.

Still, you rub his ass in compensation, matching his lecherous grin when he fixes it on you. “Have a seat,” you tell him again, kicking a barstool vaguely in his direction. “And watch the magic.”

♠

Javi cleans his plate enthusiastically. “So what’s the secret?” he asks, mouth full, still staring up at you like your shitty scrambled eggs are the best meal he’s ever eaten.

You snort. “No secret, Peña.” You hold up your stick of butter, much lighter than it’d been before, and toss it back into the fridge. “You literally just watched me cook them.”

He grins loopily.

You shake your head, biting back your own smile. How could a man as competent and independent as Javier Peña forget to do something as basic as eat?

Well, it hardly matters. Even with the food you’ve made, he’s going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Ana had cautioned you several times to go easy on the guaro, and you trust her judgement. Emilio’s shit, in particular, is cheap, potent, and deadly.

Well, he’ll pay for it tomorrow. You shake you head, watching him bumble around the kitchen and drop his dirty plate in the sink. Javi stands at your side, warm and solid as you draw just enough water to let the dishes soak.

He reaches for your dish soap, and you stop him with a hand on his arm. Javi glances down at you, still a little drunkenly, but his eyes are warm, his lips parted just slightly, and you pull away from him as if burned.

“I’ll get them in the morning,” you manage hoarsely.

He shrugs, brushes your shoulder with his hand as he bumbles away, and you take a moment to lean against the sink and calm your racing heart.

God, what is with you lately?

Javi has already crashed on your sofa, shoes kicked off, legs sprawled, grinning lazily in your direction.

You manage not to oogle at him, but it’s a near thing.

Instead, you flop down on his opposite side, allowing your legs to tangle in the middle.

He makes a big show of yawning, tilting his wrist up to glance at his watch. You crane your neck to look at the kitchen clock. It’s only 10:33, but you’re both feeling a little lit - Javi more than you, thankfully - and you both have a big day tomorrow.

You sigh, reaching down to collect the empty glasses and discarded playing cards, slipping Javi’s keys in your back pocket while he’s not looking.

He scoffs.

Oh. You whirl, realizing he’d been watching you all along.

“So, am I staying over, Ears?” He grins up at you, a little tired, but still in an excellent mood.

“You are definitely staying over, Peña,” you tell him firmly, trying not to laugh at the wounded puppy expression on his face as he reacts to your tone. His eyes have gone so wide, pout so pathetic that you can’t help but grin, even as you toss a throw pillow haphazardly over his lap.

That seems to get a rise out of him. He sits up, frowning at the pillow. “I’m on the sofa?” he whines.

“Yup!’ you say happily, enjoying the power dynamic for what it is. Putting Javier Peña in your bed tonight would lead straight to…

Well, you’re both drunk, and even if you weren’t, you’re not willing to give up on your bet. Not with the nasty realization that you’d had tonight, for sure.

Javi must follow your thoughts, because he sobers instantly. “Okay,” he says softly, settling back down and cramming the pillow beneath his shoulder.

You’re kind enough to tuck him in, which really just consists of dragging your comforter from you bed and draping it over his ass and shoulders. His boots are lying haphazardly on the floor - you decide to leave them for him to trip over in the morning - and you don’t bother to cover his feet, knowing that he sleeps with his socks outside of the blanket, the weirdo.

Just as you turn away, a single brown eye catches your gaze. He’d been watching you again.

The thought sends a tremor down your spine. “Need anything else?” you ask clinically, trying to ignore the urge to either kiss him, or scream.

He huffs contentedly, rocking against the cushions like an animal sinking into a burrow. His eyes drift closed, and you can’t help but just notice how dark his lashes are against his cheek. “Can’t think of anything,” he murmurs, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Okay. Good night,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder as you pass by to turn out the lights.

“Night, babe.”

You choke. Well, maybe he won’t remember.

Fat chance. He’s drunk, but he’s not wasted. You decide to raise him, because any other response from you will be awkward, forever.

“Good night, honey,” you answer sweetly as you flick off the light.

In the darkness, you hear him snort.

♠

author’s notes/confessions:

I have never written Javier Peña. I have never written in second person. I have never written decent smut. I speak no Spanish. Advice and criticisms, if delivered kindly, are very welcome.

Yeah, I realize that I wrote Javi a little lighter/goofier here than he’s probably typically depicted. Hang tight, guys. He’s not taking this seriously yet, but he will be. Just wait.

Guaro/Aguardiente a legit Colombian liquor, and I tried to depict it as accurately as possible for never having tried it. The anise thought that reader has is a reference to absinthe, which is a trip if you’ve ever managed to acquire the real deal (something that’s kind of difficult if you live in the States, unfortunately). Also, I’m unsure if you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy liquor in Colombia, but hey, just go with it.

This started as a conversation with Tiff and turned into... well, this. I am so, so sorry. Expect about 20k and three chapters. Probably.

Not beta’d. you get what you get, my friends.

At the risk of sounding pathetic, your feedback absolutely inspires me to write faster. I don’t make the rules, guys. I just write.

This installment is (mostly) complete, but I’d love to hear what you like and what you don’t, and what you want to see next. My inbox is open. I welcome messages. I want to make friends.

Love you guys big, and happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating!

#Javier Peña #narcos #javi x reader #Javier Peña x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javi x you #narcos fic #smut #narcos fanfiction #pedro fandom #pedro fanfiction #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña imagine #narcos netflix

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 7

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Chapter 7

You should have asked Billy to stop. The logical part of you knew fucking him in some dirty alleyway was wrong. You deserved better than this, even if he didn’t think so, but when his mouth was on yours and ravaging you, and you were filled with so much anger that you wanted to scream – well, it dulled the sane part of you. Your body was desperate for release and you simply gave into your baser instincts.

You ripped his leather jacket off while he did the same with your coat. You bit his bottom lip so hard you tasted blood in your mouth as he braced you uncomfortably against the jagged wall. There was nothing remotely tender or loving about this moment as he pulled your underwear down and hiked up your skirt to your waist. Knee propped against the wall, he balanced you atop his leg. You rubbed yourself on his thigh, groaning at the arousing feel of his rough jeans on your pussy. The moans you cried out were swallowed by his demanding mouth, his fingers bruising your hips as he held you steady.

You quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling his cock out, pumping him quickly before he forcibly removed your hand from his. His fingers slipped inside your mouth and you licked them with your tongue, your teeth nipping his skin. You were so wet already, grinding down on him, but he took his fingers from your mouth and reached down to stroke your pussy, getting you ready for him. You gasped when he penetrated you slowly, taking his time so you felt every inch of him impale you. Your body shuddered, quivering under the intensity of his gaze as he watched you take him in. Then he began to thrust, jostling your body hard against him. Clinging to him, you bit his shoulder hard each time.

You missed him, the feel of his hands all over you when he was excited, the weight of his body pressing down on you when he was inside you, how loud and wild he was when he was fucking you.

Eyes closed, you lolled your head back against the wall and moaned loudly as he brushed your clit. The combination of his cock and fingers drove you crazy, you were lost in a haze of ecstasy when Billy lifted you higher. You winced with pain as your back scraped against the wall but he didn’t notice, focused on maneuvering your leg around his waist so he can go in deeper.

Pain and pleasure rocked through your body. You could feel yourself getting close, so close, when he suddenly gripped your chin.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice was tender, gentle, eyes shining bright. “Look at me, Y/N.”

His beautiful brown eyes were glazed with need, mouth slightly open. He peered up at you, his nose crinkled, with the most amazed expression on his face. Struck by an intense wave of affection, you caressed his beard and leaned forward to lick his bottom lip. A warm, wicked smile marked his lips before he pulled your lip with his teeth, playing with you.

Hips undulating in unison, his fingers working you, you hit your orgasm within seconds and the world exploded.

As waves of pleasure surged through you, you rode them out, blissful and semi-aware of Billy still thrusting in you as he sucked the corner of your neck. He groaned loudly, his body shaking, when he finally came inside you.

Time stood still. Your body felt boneless, your mind soaring.

You were limp in his arms, probably heavy as hell, but he somehow managed to still hold you up, breath ragged at first but slowly returning to normal. He grasped the back of your head with one hand while cradling your face with the other, angling up to graze your forehead, your eyebrows, dropping gentle kisses on the top of your closed eyelids. You murmured contentedly, enjoying this unexpected moment of tenderness from him.

Then you heard voices approaching and your eyes flew open. The reality of where you were hit you like a ton of bricks. Immediately you untangled yourself from Billy’s arms, pushing him away, and started righting your clothes.

Your thighs felt wet, slick with his cum. You dug through your pockets for Kleenex, something you could use to clean yourself but there wasn’t any. But Billy was prepared, of course he was. His eyes glued to your face, he retrieved tissue from his jacket pocket and started wiping your thighs. “I can do it!” you snapped, grabbing it from him. When you felt somewhat presentable again, you started walking away.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

You pulled out your phone to request an Uber but he snapped it from your hand. “What are you doing? Give me my phone back!”

“I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll get home myself. I don’t need anything from you!”

“Just shut up and follow me to my car.”

The last thing you wanted was to spend more time with him but he was holding your phone hostage. You followed him grudgingly, careful to keep your distance. The car was parked nearby and upon approaching the vehicle, he held the passenger side door open for you. You knew better than to assume the chivalrous gesture was meant for you specifically. It was a thing he always did, as part of the charming image he cultivated, but whereas he usually wore a smile when he held the door open, right now he simply looked furious. You slid in; he slammed the door shut. As you buckled your seat belt, you grimaced. The same spot on your back that had scraped against the wall was now rubbing against the seat and the friction from the contact was almost painful.

The car ride home was filled with tension. You felt his eyes on you every so often but you refused to acknowledge him, not when your mind was reeling with hurt and anger. How could you be so stupid? You were supposed to move on from him, instead you fucked him in some alleyway next to a crowded restaurant. Worse yet, there was a chance your boss may have spotted you. You may have potentially risked your career for a guy who wouldn’t even go out with you.

Over the past year, researching him as you had, you’d come to realize he needed the finer things in life. His car, his penthouse, the clothes he wore, they were all a status symbol for him. He needed them to feel like he’d accomplished something, probably to separate himself from the kid who grew up in foster homes and had nothing. Women, obviously, played into that equation as well. Women like Dinah Madani, beautiful, powerful, accomplished, they looked great in his arms and made him feel good about himself – but you were not in the same category of women as Dinah and he treated you accordingly. She was good enough to take to the gala, to be the date he wined and dined. You were the woman he fucked in secret. Well, not exactly a secret because he fucked you on the street like you were trash. Somehow you didn’t think Dinah Madani would ever get the two-bit whore treatment from Billy.

Rage hit you again, and you scooted as far from him as possible. The movement caused the sore spot on your back to hit the chair again and you winced.

“You okay?” he asked.

You were starting to panic, taking count of everything that had gone wrong in the past hour. The man who tried to kill you was out on bail. Roger found out you had shared embarrassing info with a competitor, which may have potentially jeopardized your job. You just fucked someone without protection, someone who was known for sleeping around.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, everything was weighing down on you. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You hunched over, clutching your temples, staring down at the floormat. You were struggling to breathe, your chest felt constricted.

You felt Billy rub your back, murmuring some nonsense to you, but you ignored him, instead closing your eyes to take a few deep breaths. You inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. You did it for several minutes. Soon the panic subsided and a familiar numbness took over. Your mind was clear again.

So, yeah, you were in deep shit at the moment, but it was nothing compared to what you’d gone through in the past. You were able to get out of your family’s clutches, that meant you could get through anything. You just had to be calm and formulate a plan.

Okay. Out of everything that had gone wrong, the easiest thing to fix was an unwanted pregnancy. You’d go down to the pharmacy and get Plan B. That way you didn’t have to worry about being knocked up. And then you’d make an appointment next week with the clinic to get checked out. Even though Billy was usually very careful about using a condom – except today – you had no idea how many other women he was sleeping with and you didn’t want to risk catching anything from him.

Two things down, two more things to go.

First thing when you got home, you’d call Roger. You’d reassure him that telling Billy about Adam Preston was a one-time thing and you weren’t in the habit of divulging confidential information to a competitor. You were shook up yesterday, you weren’t in your right mind, and that had resulted in a terrible error in judgement. It was never going to happen again. And Roger valued you, he appreciated all the work you did, he wouldn’t hold something so silly over you. And if he saw you fucking Billy? You cringed at the thought, but there was no point in inviting trouble. If he did catch you red-handed, well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. “There’s a pharmacy at the end of my street,” you said to Billy, without looking at him. “You can drop me off there.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Adam Preston was the biggest problem you had to overcome. You’d already started looking into his family, trying to find dirt that you could use as leverage against them in case you needed to. But you remembered the look in Adam’s eyes when he’d been ready to kill you. He was unhinged and held you responsible for everything wrong in his life. There was a very good chance he couldn’t be reasoned with or blackmailed, but you were not going to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder in fear. No, never again. You’d spent your entire childhood that way, always wondering what inconsequential thing would set your father off. You were not going to live through that again. So, fuck Adam Preston. If he couldn’t be controlled, then he’d have to be eliminated. Simple as that. And you knew exactly who to turn to for that.

“Give me my phone,” you said to Billy, finally turning to look at him.

Dividing his attention between the road ahead and you, he shot you a confused glance. “I’ve been talking to you for the last ten minutes. Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

“No.” You held out your hand. “My phone, Billy.”

“Why do you need to go to a pharmacy?” He cast her a quick glance. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t want to get knocked up by you. So I’m going to the pharmacy to get that taken care of. Does that answer your question?”

You noted the way his jaw clenched, but you reminded yourself not to care. You were done with Billy. You were done with feeling like shit. The first time he made you feel worthless, you could console yourself with the fact it hadn’t been your fault. Before you caught him with Dinah, you didn’t know he viewed you. Every time since then, however, was a conscious choice on your part to engage with him which meant you were solely responsible for how pathetic you felt right now. He was selfish, callous, and treated you like shit, and yet you still fucked him. That was something you had to hold yourself accountable to.

Parking his car a few feet away from the pharmacy doors, he turned off his car. His face was dark, his voice terse. “I didn’t force you to fuck me back there, babe. You wanted it as much as I did.”

You met his solemn stare. “You’re right. I did. I fucked you even though you make me feel worthless. There’s only been one other person who’s made me feel that ugly and I cut them out a long time ago - but not you, you I fuck.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “I told you about the Adam thing and what did you do? You went and threw it in my boss’s face so you can brag about Anvil. He could fire me tomorrow and I wouldn’t have any recourse because I’m the one who divulged confidential information. But you feeling smug and superior is obviously more important than me keeping my job.” You looked away from him, staring out the window. “You keep hurting me, and I just let you. For what? Because I have feelings for you? Because some part of me might love you? That’s not a good enough reason.” You shook your head. “I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy. I’m not going to let these stupid feelings ruin all that. You will not destroy me.” You felt calm, at peace with your decision. “Give me my phone.”

Your fingers made physical contact when he handed you your phone. His potent stare was affixed on you, angry, volatile, filled with emotion, but you ignored his gaze and snatched the phone away from him.

You opened the door and exited the car, heading to the pharmacy. There was a line at the counter and you took the opportunity to block Billy’s number on your phone.

It was odd. Revealing your weaknesses to Billy, making yourself vulnerable – any of those would have made you hyperventilate before. You weren’t in the habit of giving people ammunition to use against you, but you suspected it was the only way to get rid of Billy permanently. And, strangely, telling him how you felt in the car was freeing. Because, ultimately, it didn’t matter what he thought, the only thing that mattered was you. And you were ready to move on.

Part 8

A/N - As always, thank you for being such a wonderful, generous audience and all the likes, reblogs, comments, asks, and messages you’ve left me. Trust me when I say, I’m committed to finish this story because of you :)

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