#he needs to disappear from public eye which he will for like at least a year 😁

[harrytheehottie]

I love Harry down soooo much more than anyone could ever fathom but i am telling you right now him having a halftime show would be the worst thing to happen right now 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

#he needs to disappear from public eye which he will for like at least a year 😁

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Work for it

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: Javier wants you. Plain and simple. You don’t fall for his charm so easily

warnings: as always SMUT (m!masturbation, semi-public handjob, vaginal fingering, oral - f!receiving, protected p in v, biting, spitting, hair pulling, praise kink), cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, fluff and soft!Javi - because I can’t help myself

word count: 17k (holy moly guacamole - I am so fucking sorry)

A/N: This took me literally five days to finish (longer than I anticipated). Writing and then editing, re-reading it over and over again. But I had so much fun writing these two together. I love them.

You will never forget the day you met the infamous Javier Peña.

It was the first day at your new job - a new beginning for you, let’s say. Moving to a new country whose language you hardly spoke, having to accommodate to the new pace of things. That didn’t mean it was a bad thing though - you needed the change. After living in a small town for nearly all of your life where everyone knew everything about you, you were pretty glad when they accepted you as a secretary for DEA office in Colombia. It was…different. The people, the lifestyle they led. Nonetheless, change was good for you - you needed it.

What you didn’t need - or at least you thought so at the beginning - was having a smooth talker, devilish charmer and so-called "ladies' man" ogle you right as you entered the DEA building. His eyes watched every measured step you took as you held your head high when passing by him - not giving him the time of a day. You could see from the corner of your eye that he licked his lips and smoothed his thumb along the bottom one, his eyes trailing your figure.

He watched your smooth legs move effortlessly - light as if you were a butterfly slowly floating in the air, even in your heels. He could definitely make your legs wobble if you would let him, he thought as he licked his lips. Your green work skirt fitted you like a damn glove, your white blouse flowy - made to look professional yet efficient for you to not cook alive in that god-forsaken Colombian heat - highlighting your sun-kissed skin. He felt like a dog that was shown a proper peace of meat after days of starving. Oh, and starved he was.

He almost broke his neck when you disappeared around the corner and Steve threw him an unimpressed look from behind the folder he was going through before he heard Javier roughly exhale. The blond-haired agent tossed the thick folder filled with documents on the desk and leaned back on the uncomfortable office chair as he watched his partner seemingly lost in thought - he could guess what thoughts were occupying his mind right then. He scoffed and that seemed to pull Javier out of his trance, his dark eyes narrowed as he looked at his partner.

“What?” he grumbled. Javier’s eyes were challenging as he bored them into Steve’s baby blues as if saying “just say what you want to say.”

One thing Javier hated about Steve - and there were a lot of things that he didn’t like about him but if he was to pinpoint one it would have to be this - was how he unseemingly loved to call out Javier on his so-called “bullshit”. Even though often it was his private life - which frankly was none of his business. He loved to criticize and not be criticized in return - that he and Peña had in common even if he neither one of them would ever admit that.

“Don’t even think about it, Peña.” Steve muttered as he held eye contact with Javier - neither of them ready to back down.

Seconds passed. Maybe a minute even.

Javier was the first one to break it off as he glanced behind his shoulder, a sly grin spreading across his lips. He liked to play dirty - and pissing off his partner seemed plenty dirty play enough for him. And if you’d give in - as he was sure you would - and Steve would hear the pretty little cries of Javier’s name falling out of your lips? That seemed like a sweet victory to the dark-haired agent.

One thing about Javier was that when someone tells him can’t or shoudln’t do something - you know he will do exactly that. He turned to Steve once more.

“I don’t know what are you talking about.” Steve squinted his eyes and sighed - knowing damn well Javier was already planning on how to charm you in his mind.

“You know what I am talking about, Javier.”

His grin spread wider - his fingers quickly drumming on the wooden desk he was leaning his hands against. It was an old thing - folders that Javier should get through by tonight sitting on top of it. He had better things to do now. Paperwork could wait. Your perfume lingered in the office when you passed by, calling him to you like a damn siren song.

“Just trying to be friendly here, Murphy. Not that you know anything about it.”

“We both know that your definition of ‘friendly’ when it comes to women means ‘I want to spread-“

Before he could finish his sentence Javier was already one long leg out of the office making his way toward where you were seated at your desk. You were concentrated - your brows furrowed and the rim of your reading glasses falling from the bridge of your nose. You were not from here - Javier could tell. He noticed the mug filled with coffee on your desk that had “best sister ever” written on it in a thick cursive, the letters red and next to it a big heart.

The temperature in the office was hot - too hot even for Javi that was used to the Texan heat back from Laredo. His blue shirt damp from the sweat that dribbled down his back, his torso, his neck. The material of the shirt stuck to him. That wouldn’t be the last thing that would stick to him today. He was sure of that.

It seemed you came prepared though - the small fan on your desk felt like heaven on earth against your sweaty skin. He watched one droplet roll down from the side of your temple, slowly down to your jaw, your neck, falling into the juncture of it and rolling down between the valley of your breasts. He would gladly lick it from your skin if you’d let him. He would do much more than that to you if you’d let him.

“Can I help you with something?” His eyes teared away from your cleavage and met your gaze - your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you put your reading glasses down, the papers you were reading before he came laid now on your desk. He quickly scanned your features and yeah, you were definitely someone who’d he like to spend his night with. Or lunch break, or-

He ignored your question as he looked at your nails - one of his hands coming to inspect it closer but before he could you pulled your hands away - folding them across your chest. “I like the color. Brings out the color of your eyes.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that - leaning against the leather chair you looked him up and down quickly before leaning back towards him. Your elbows were prepped on the wooden desk and he leaned closer as well -his eyes quickly dipping to your cleavage once again.

“Listen here-“ A pause followed.

“Javi.” He offered.

“Javi.” You repeated. His name falling out of your mouth - the accent not quite right but he did not mind one bit. He found it endearing in a way. “Listen here, Javi. I don’t know what you think is going to happen but whatever it is just forget about it. Your southern charm won’t work on me. Been there, done that.”

He pulled away - taken back by your quick rejection, his eyebrows furrowing just a little. The crease on his brows showing and he took a quick breath to retort something, his tongue slipping out to lick his lower lip.

“And what did you think I thought was going to happen, mariposa?” The old leather chair creaked beneath your weight as you moved back in it slightly. An amused smirk pulled at your lips as you ignored the nickname he gave you - which in all honesty you didn’t know what it meant. You’d ask him another time. It seemed that you would be seeing this “Javi” a whole lot more than you thought.

You leaned closer to him and he did the same - as if the two of you were pulled by some magnetic force toward one another. It got hotter once his nose almost touched yours, his fingers with neatly trimmed nails gripping the edge of your desk. You slowly raised from your seat. You ignored it all - the way his eyes bored into yours, how you felt as if molten lava was in the pit of your stomach, how your hands clenched at your sides.

He smelled like cigarettes and coffee, and some kind of expensive cologne. The smell of him made your nose and insides burn - something about his presence made you feel like every cell in your body was on fire. That’s how the DEA agent made women feel most of the time - you didn’t know that back then.

Your voice dropped an octave lower as you whispered. “I don’t think it would be appropriate to say what I think you thought in a public setting. Especially in a working place.” An amused chuckle fell out of his lips as you seated yourself. Mirth danced in his eyes as he replied:

“Good thing I am inappropriate most of the time, mariposa.” Javier Peña was a bold man. He knew that and most of the people that were acquainted with him knew that. But you didn’t know who he was and he expected that you would scoff - tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t.

You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your lips as you pretended to read the documents on your desk - your conversation ending with that.

He watched you for a few seconds, expecting that maybe you would say something smart back in return because you know - it seemed you had a smart mouth. He turned on his heels as he left you to do what you actually came here to do - work - and he should do the same.

Oh, and you were going to be fun, he thought. When he came back and sat behind his desk, he had this stupid boyish smirk planted on his face. Steve looked at him and then back at where you were supposed to be working - even though he couldn’t see you. And the blonde-haired agent thought that this meant no good.

Three years passed since your first encounter with Javier.

Three torturous years filled with you two dancing around each other - like two ships passing one another in the stillness of a night. You two became somewhat friends. Three years filled with flirting and bickering, stolen glances and going out on drinks.

Sometimes Steve joined the two of you - most of the time not. At first, he seemed to be glued to Javier’s hip - afraid that his partner would try another one of his many tricks on you. Oh, and he did.

His flirtatious nature came out on the surface anytime you were near him - though you did not crumble under his advances as Javier wished you would. Your knees didn’t buckle, your cheeks didn’t turn a darker shade of red, your eyes didn’t flutter when he was closer to you than it seemed proper. But after a while, both agents found out you weren’t even near to falling for the smooth talker that Javier was. The only thing you offered him was friendship - your presence and your laugh, your silly jokes and weird habits.

And he took it all - his flirtatious nature and comments remained but it seemed more friendly than not. And you did the same in return - your smart-ass comments about how his ass looked “good enough to bite in those tight jeans" kept him on his toes, his cheeks hurt with all of the genuine laughter you pulled out of somewhere deep in his chest.

So Steve started joining your outings outside of work less and less - you were an intelligent woman and he liked you. You wouldn’t do something stupid like sleep with Javier.

The thing was - you wanted to. After the stressful day at work, you wished you could have Javier here - in your crappy apartment that was assigned to you by the U.S. embassy. You knew his reputation, you knew that his needs were simply carnal - a basic transaction of pleasure and bodily fluids. He never wanted his lady friends to stay over - never wanted them to have any expectations of having something more with him.

You can still remember the vivid shock you felt when you banged on the door of your next-door neighbor who appeared to only come alive at night.

The walls were thin and you could hear every moan, groan, slap of skin against skin, every bang that the bedframe made when hitting the wall. At first, you tried to ignore it - you bought earplugs. Multiple pairs. None of them seemed to work and one night you had had enough when you were right there on the edge of sleep after a particularly rough day and then - a long drawn-out moan made you squeeze your eyes before you shot out of the bed. The robe you wrapped around yourself to look at least half decent flew dramatically behind you.

You didn’t knock at the door - you banged - irritated and tired but still, you chewed at your lip as you thought of how the fuck will you say in spanish that they should finally “shut the fuck up and let you sleep”. You could hear a loud bang and then curses thrown into the air before the door swung open and Javier was standing in them - Javier from the office, Javier that undressed you with his eyes every time you entered the same room as him - his eyes wild and angry before they landed on you. All of the fire in his eyes disappeared and a toothy grin replaced his scowl. He leaned one arm on the doorframe - his bicep flexing with the movement.

His hair was disheveled and he didn’t have any of his significant half-unbuttoned shirts on. His chest was broad, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his golden skin glowed in the low dim light in the hallway. The tight jeans he wore stuck to him like a second skin - he didn’t zip them in the hurry to get to the door. You could see the sparse hair leading from his belly button growing thicker the lower and lower you went - you must have gaped at him like a fish before you gulped.

He wasn’t any better though - his eyes dragged over the naked expanse of your skin and as his eyes trailed higher. He was sure you weren’t wearing anything underneath that flimsy robe. A peak of the soft flesh of your breast caught his attention as he absent-mindedly licked his lips, catching his tongue between his teeth - only a sliver of the pink flesh poking out of his mouth.

“Came to take me up on my offer, mariposa?” You wanted to wipe the self-assured cocky smile off his face.

He never really said the “offer” out loud but you knew what he had in mind. Now even more so. After a few weeks at the embassy, you heard rumors about Peña, about his reputation, about who he was. You tried to pay them no mind.

“No, Javier.” The way his name sounded falling out of your mouth was his absolute favorite thing. “Just keep it down, would you?”

You didn’t wait for his answer - turning on your heel and he watched your ass sway before you closed the door of your apartment.

He fucked the girl that was in his place harder than he ever fucked anyone in his life that night.

So that you knew what you were missing.

The way you glared at him the next day was definitely worth it.

But you also knew Javier - how he cared for those who were close to him, how the only thing he “ate” all day was coffee and so you had to almost shove any form of food into him - not that he minded - how his eyes crinkled when you cracked one of your stupid jokes that weren’t even that funny - he seemed to think otherwise.

So you were somewhat friends. You went out to drink away your thoughts, sorrows and feelings together. An unhealthy coping mechanism that you seemed to learn from Javi after the first year and a half you spent in Colombia.

You always went into that one filthy bar - quiet but with a sticky floor with not a lot of people around - somehow, Javier always found a girl that he would take home that night in it still. He was tall, broad, charming, he knew the way around with ladies - compliments forming and falling easily off his silver tongue. They seemed to be pulled towards him by his sheer presence in the room. He didn’t even have to try.

You hated the way your heart tightened in your chest whenever a pretty woman caught his attention - he always quickly stubbed his cigarette down with a quick apology that he’d be right back. His walk was confident and self-assured, his body language lose when he talked to them.

To make things worst he always had this soft look in his eyes when he asked if you were okay with him leaving. Oh, his brown eyes that always looked at you with such curiosity and interest. Those eyes made you feel like you were in another world. Looking into them - looking into those prettiest brown eyes, the eyes that you loved the most - made you feel like dying and feeling alive at once.

Even when some of them almost pulled his arm off as they tried to get him out and to wherever they would get more acquainted with one another, he still waited for your answer. Every time, you offered him the same tight-lipped smile and quick nod as you shooed him off. The imprint of his smile he always offered you in gratitude felt like a punch to the gut - as if he broke all of your ribs to get to your heart and squeezed until no blood remained in it after it stopped functioning completely.

But even if you wanted to give in - learn and feel his touch, find out if the girls were faking all of the moans and gasps or if he was really so skilled - you never dared to. Refusing to become another woman who would have to leave eventually and never look back. You wanted more than that. Because you knew Javier.

And you wanted all of him, not just a piece that he would offer and then rip it from you.

So you never acted upon the feelings you developed over the years - staying somewhat friends with the Texas man would have to be enough. Had to be.

Things changed after almost two and a half years. After he came late at night knocking on your apartment door and you sleepily opened it - the tiredness leaving your body as your eyes widened at his state. He was drunk - that was clear. He hiccuped and stumbled into your place when you opened your door wider.

There was no exchanging of words that night. He planted face-first onto your couch and fell asleep almost immediately - his soft snores filling the silent room. You draped your favorite light blanket around him that night - the one your sister gave you as a Christmas present. Javier always made fun of it. It was an ugly thing really - she said that it was compensation for an ugly sweater as she couldn’t find any. And yes, it was hideous - it looked like it just came from some dumpster - but you loved it nonetheless.

Something changed between the two of you the next morning. When you came into the living room he was still lounging on your small couch - his long legs dangling from the edge of it. You laughed as he groaned, his eyes tightly shut, one of his arms draped over his forehead. When he slowly sat up his head spun and he mumbled something about “never drinking again” - you laughed some more at that.

You didn’t ask why he drank so much - you knew it was because of something more serious than just simply wanting to get shit-faced. If he wanted to, he’d tell you. Eventually.

You passed him some painkillers for which he offered you a grateful smile - throwing his head back as he swallowed them. The only thing that could be heard in the room was the coffee machine as you stared at each other. He looked different in the morning - peaceful, soft. Things he didn’t want anyone to see.

You cleared your throat, saying that you will quickly hop in the shower while he can choose what are you two going to have for breakfast - the book you’ve written your favorite recipes in kept on the lowest shelf in the kitchen cabinet right above the stove. You were stocked with all sorts of ingredients as you like to cook a lot. He nodded as he watched you softly shut the door behind you.

The recipe book was old and rusty - the pages of it covered in smudges, the corners of them sometimes torn off. He wasn’t sure if it was yellow because it came in that color or if the was white before and it just yellowed over time. He flipped the pages quickly - honestly, he’d eat anything you’d cook as he often said you should have opened your own restaurant and not waste your time behind the desk. You always brushed these comments off with a small smile. A dried-up rose layed between the pages. He softly grabbed it and inspected it - his heart lurching into his throat when realization dawned on him. He gave you the rose. A long time ago.

Steve always bought Connie a bouquet of flowers every Friday -a habit he kept even after all the years spent with her. It was sweet, really. Romantic. You eyed the different flowers - a small flicker of yearning danced in your eyes. Javier noticed. Of course, he did. One day he came over to your desk, one of his hands behind his back and you threw him a curious look before he brought the single white-petalled rose in front of your face. The big grin you gave him and the quiet “thank you, Javi. I love it” made his entire week.

So he didnn’t know how long he had been standing there - the tip of his fingers delicately brushing over the dried-up white petals until you called his name, coming over to him.

“You kept it.” You threw him a confused look, your eyes widened when he backed you up against the kitchen counter - the small of your back hitting the edge of it. He caged you in, his hand coming to lay on the counter next to your side, the other one showing you the rose and you gulped.

“Yeah, I kept it.” You whisper and something in his chest shifted back then, his eyes softening. You held your breath when his chest brushed up against yours, his nose almost bumping with yours. You could see every freckle on his skin, his long eyelashes, the curve of his nose. Your lips nearly touching.

And then the phone rang and he closed his eyes in irritation, taking a deep steadying breath. He moved away from you and you slipped away from him quickly- your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You picked it up with shaking hands, looking over at Javier who put the rose back into its place.

“Hey, Steve. Yeah-yeah, I’ll be there in ten. Yeah, I will go over to Javi’s to kick him out of bed. See you.”

His jaw ticked when you hung up. He was going to kill Murphy.

He stopped seeing every and each of his lady friends after that day. If he wanted any information he’d meet them on neutral ground - sometimes offering to buy them a drink or two. But nothing more. He stopped picking up random girls at the bar too.

And somehow, he felt happy. Mind shockingly happy - like a kid that wished really hard for a present under the Christmas tree and got it. He cared for you - the realization hitting him in the back of the head like a fucking bullet. And you cared for him - took care of him, fed him and made him feel fucking alive and happy and thriving. You were the one that got drunk with him and never asked questions, and listened. You had to feel something if you kept the stupid rose after the years. Right?

But Javier overthinks things easily and just as easy as it was to imagine somehow a happy and safe future with you, it was just as easy to imagine scenarios - where in every one of them - he was the jackass who’d hurt you. And he couldn’t have that. No, no, no.

So he keeps his distance - still talks to you and keeps being friendly, but neither of you talks about the morning when you almost kissed. You were confused and hurt. He played with you but you couldn’t be angry at him. He never tried anything again after that on you. Even though this thing you two had between you kept simmering under the surface and he tried to ignore it. As have you.

But Javier is just a man - impulsive and quick to jump to conclusions. When he sees red? He acts. And right now he sees red as you talk to one of the other agents - he can hear your soft laugh and can see the way you grip the man’s arm as you laugh some more. What is even so funny? The muscle in his jaw ticks as he grips the edge of his desk tighter in his hold and Steve wants to laugh at his partner.

He takes pity on him and when he stands up he places one of his big hands on Javier’s shoulder which he wants to shrug away -his gaze lingering on you.

“You should ask her out, Peña.”

Javier almost breaks his neck with the speed he looks at Steve. Did he hit his head? Since when is he telling him what to do with women? Javier scoffs - an ugly twisted snarl adorns his lips. Like a wolf barring his teeth to its prey.

“Since when do you tell me what and what to not do when it comes to our lady co-workers?” Steve sighs and squeezes Javier’s shoulder tighter making his dark-haired partner look at him.

“We both know she isn’t just a co-worker to you, Peña.” He hisses at him, the grip on his shoulder loosening. “Now go ask her out before someone else will.”

And maybe it’s the first time in his life that Steve is actually right. He was fucking exhausted of playing this game of cat and mouse with you.

Javier’s legs act quick and his mind can’t seem to catch up with his actions before he is standing at your desk. When he arrives the other man bids you a quick goodbye before he scatters away under Javier’s intense gaze.

“Do you need something from me, Javi?” You offer him a small smile - so different from the first time you two met and he thinks: “yeah, you”.

His tongue sits heavy in his mouth and just now he finds out he actually doesn’t know how to do this. This dating thing. For fuck’s sake he hasn’t been on a date since Lorraine and he is getting old. Should he bring you flowers first? Should he ask you out with a note like in high school? Should he-

“Javi, you okay?”

Man up, Peña.

He scratches the back of his head before he blurts out:

“Go out with me.”

He says it so quickly that you are sure you heard him wrong but the tip of his ears are a darker shade of red and he stares at you expectantly. You gape at him like a fish - your mouth closing and opening but no sound comes out of it. He sighs and this time he says it slower, his dark eyes boring into yours as he reaches to grab your small hands in his.

“Mariposa, I’d like nothing more than if you’d go out with me. Like…on a date.” His palms are sweaty and he gulps seemingly nothing. He is nervous. It’s cute. That this big bad agent that chases narcos left and right is nervous about asking you out. You grin as you squeeze his fingers in yours.

“I don’t know, Javi. This seems so sudden and I am not sure if that’s the best idea. With us being colleagues and all.” You try to hide your grin as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Mariposa, I swear I will make it worth your while. Just give me a chance. Please? I will-“ You break when you see his pleading eyes.

“Javi, I was just kidding. I’d like to go out with you. You are a scaredy cat when it comes to these things, aren’t you?”

He offers you a sheepish smile, his eyes glowing.

“Kind of. So please, try to be patient with me, yeah?”

“Of course.” You throw him a reassuring smile. Yeah, he could do this. With you.

He looks around before he brings your hands towards his lips - kissing them and he grins against them when he sees how you blush.

“Tonight at eight sounds good?” He offers as he pulls away from you.

“Sound perfect, Texas.” His grin spreads wider, his cheeks hurt and his heart hammers in his chest.

He owes Steve.

For someone who dreamt about being asked out by Javier you are unprepared. You never expected that he would ever actually make a move on you - not counting the sexual ones. You can’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of your shift. You beam at Javier when passing by him to get home and he throws you a sultry wink - his knuckles resting on his desk as he looks through the documents. Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t quip anything as Javier watches you leave.

He had a date tonight. With you. Stating that he was nervous and giddy at the same time was an understatement. He felt a like a teenager expecting his first kiss. It felt strange and absolutely addicting at once.

When you arrive home you take a quick shower - Javier always said that you smelled like coconuts and one time you saw him secretly glancing into your bathroom to see what kind of shampoo were you using.

The water is scorching hot and it soothes your muscles and nerves. You scrub all the stress from your body and scurry into the bedroom when you are done - the droplets of water falling onto the floor as you don’t even bother to dry yourself off.

Your bedroom is a big space - the same as Javier’s and Steve’s and anyone who lives in the same apartment building as you, really. You open your closet which was built by Javi and Steve - both of them complaining “why the fuck would you need such a big closet if you live alone” and as you replied “because I like them big” Javier choked on seemingly nothing sending you a quick glare, his Adam’s apple bobbed and it seemed he started sweating even more after that.

You and Connie watched as they argued because, of course, neither of them needed the instructions. Glass of wine in your hands.

It was a pretty closet - cheap as someone bought it and it was too big to fit into their living space and they wanted to get rid of it. Made from mahogany wood, the doors of it had two birds on each side carved in it. Vintage and fitting into your bedroom - you even got a carpet with it for free, the one you were currently standing on.

As you pondered on what to wear you suddenly realized you didn’t know where was Javier taking you. Dancing? On a dinner? To a bar just for drinks? After a while of just checking through your wardrobe you decided to wear a sundress - it was too hot, even at night, to wear anything else, to be honest. It was a light green color - patterned with white flowers and the seam of it reached just below your knees. Backless with long sleeves. Cheeky but modest. Your mouth quirked upwards as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

A knock echoes through the apartment and you look at the watch in the kitchen when coming to answer the door -precisely seven. When you open the door your breath hitches.

Javier stands there with a bouquet of white roses - his face hidden behind them. He has his leather jacket on, his signature tight jeans on but you’ve never seen the pink shirt on him before. It suits him. He peaks at you through the flowers and his jaw sets - his eyes raking up and down your form, multiple times before he passes the roses to you.

“Thank you, they are beautiful, Javi.” You get an instant response, his hands now in his pockets.

“You are beautiful, mariposa.” His baritone raspy. He was used to you were pencil skirts, blouses, jeans and shirts when you went out. Never has he seen a dress on you even after three years. He prayed to all saints out there that you would wear only dresses from now on.

You flash him a grin before you quickly disappear inside to throw them into a vase. He has to clear his throat when he realizes that he can see the whole expanse of your back - the swell of your ass disappearing under the fabric but if the cut would be a little deeper he could definitely see that as well.

“Wear some comfortable shoes. I am gonna show you the beauty of Bogotá tonight.”

You link your arm with his as you softly shut the door.

You talk and laugh and jab at one another. The cool night air makes you shiver - you thought it would be a lot warmer than this. Javier drapes his jacket over you even as you fuss that he doesn’t have to.

You walk - it could be miles - but you don’t really pay it no mind as times fly by. You pass the few spots Javier wanted to show you - a pretty lake that reflected the moon shone under its light, looking like a silver liquid- a few daisies growing near it and you picked them, and after a while Javier even allowed you to put one behind his ear after you pleaded him. The spot where they served the best arepas in the city - Javier said so - and you had to agree as both of you munched on them, comfortable silence falling over the two of you.

It wasn’t awkward as you thought it might have been - you know a lot about each other but somehow you still find new things to talk about. You learned that he liked to paint when he was younger and enjoyed horseback riding with his pops. That he was mama’s boy - his tone softening as he talked about her. You squeezed his hand, telling him it was okay if he didn’t want to talk about it. But he did. Somehow, he wanted you to know everything about him. You took everything he gave and never wanted more and he felt at peace when with you. You found out that he grew up on a ranch and that he was a dog lover - he had a border collie that followed him everywhere when he did his morning chores - feeding the chickens and such.

The final spot of the day’s date was a pretty place with a view from which you could see the whole Bogotá, surrounded by trees and his truck parked there

Both of you lean against the hood - you pull his jacket around you tighter. It smells like him and you realize that after the years you don’t mind the smell of cigarettes. It’s soft and warm and it feels entirely like him.

“So, will you ever tell me about your little Texas boyfriend?” He cuts off the silence with his question and you cock your head to the side.

“Since when do you know I had Texas boyfriend?” He shrugs his shoulders as he brings the cigarette to his lips - blowing the smoke away from you.

“You told me the first time we’ve seen each other. You said that you will not fall for my Texas charm - “been there done that”. He quotes and you laugh breathily. He stubs the cigarette under his foot. The gravel under him crunches.

“You remember that?”

“I remember every little thing you say to me, mariposa.”

The air thickens with his confession as you look into his eyes. He is gorgeous under the dim moonlight. His hair blows in the soft wind. You reach to take the daisy from behind his ear and twist it between your fingers. The contact your skin makes with his when you reach behind his ear results in goosebumps erupting all over his body.

“I think a talk about ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends is more suited for a second date. Don’t you think?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“You want to go on a second date with me?” It surprises him - really. He expected…he actually doesn’t know what he expected but second date wasn’t it. He ignores the way his heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, don’t you?” Your eyes are hopeful and he doesn’t understand how you could think he wouldn’t want to go on another date with you.

He was smitten with you from the first time he laid his eyes on you. With your sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor, and how you love to call him out on his bullshit, how your nose wrinkles when you laugh and you throw your whole body forward - always needing to bang your hand against something, whether it was your thigh, table, his shoulder.

“I’d love to.” You grin and he mirrors it before you lean away from the hood as does he. It’s late and you are tired - even though you do not want this night to end. You yawn and Javier claps his hands together as he opens the door of the car you.

The car ride passes in comfortable silence as you keep sneaking glances when you think he isn’t looking.

You look at his sharp jawline and aquiline nose, his hand that grips the steering wheel - watching how he drums his long thick fingers against it and you lick your lips as you trail your eyes over the veins on the back of his hand. You take a sharp intake of breath as he places the other hand on your thigh after a while. You look at him but he doesn’t even glance at you, you can see how he becomes tense and when you don’t push his hand away he relaxes again, his thumb stroking idle circles on top of your covered flesh.

It passes quickly and before you know it you are outside the door of your apartment and he is pulling you closer by the small of your back. You put a finger on his lips when it looks like he is ready to kiss you senseless and you giggle, grabbing him by the chin and you turn his head to the side.

“I don’t kiss and tell on the first date, Peña. You will have to work for it.” You whisper against the skin of his cheek and his grip on you loosens as he feels the ghost of your lips against his flesh before you kiss him under the hinge of his jaw. The kiss imprints into the core of his bones.

Before he can say or act you are already closing the door of your apartment - he can hear the giggles that leave your mouth behind them. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his hands ball into fists as he stares at your door.

Seconds pass. Minutes. Maybe hours. He isn’t sure as he seems to be glued to the spot outside of your door.

When he finally moves he closes the door behind him forcefully. He feels so fucking worked up. And you didn’t even touch him. What were you doing to him? For fuck’s sake.

He stumbles into his place as he tries to tear his jeans from him. He fumbles with the zipper and button of his jeans and falls onto the couch as he quickly tries to undress. The jeans are thrown somewhere behind him and he tugs at his cock a few times, hissing as he swipes his thumb across the sensitive head - a spurt of precum falling out of it. He tries to imagine your small hand around his cock. Your slender fingers gripping him and pumping him from all he has. He groans when he squeezes the base of him and he thinks of how you looked tonight.

All pretty and soft when he held your hand in his. His brows furrow when he thinks of how your skin heated up under his touch when he placed his hand on the small of your back. How your dress showed all of your curves and how you laughed - your nose wrinkling. His movements speed up, he concentrates on how you smelled and moved. He thinks how you wouldn’t be able to grip all of him in your small hand - would you try to put all of him in your mouth or would you just suck and lick the tip of him while you would pump the rest of him? The roughness of his own hand isn’t ideal and it is hard to imagine your softer one - his eyebrows furrowing even more so as he concentrates, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth.

And fuck, you care for him. You truly care for him. You listen - really listen- and let him talk your ear off. You never judge him. And that’s why he is so fucking attracted to you. Because Javier just wants someone who will care for him and provide him with not only physical but also psychical comfort. And you are that someone.

He groans, his head thrown back as the pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach - twirling up the column of his spine. He is not quiet and his eyes roll into the back of his head when he hears the squelching sound of his hand stroking his cock - pretending that it was your pussy making the noise while riding him. He smears the precum around his cock - the glide over the hard hot flesh easier. He thinks about how would you sound screaming his name and a needs curls in his belly - primal and hungry. He finds a steadier and firmer pace and the muscle on his forearm and bicep flex with each stroke.

He is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he feels he is so fucking close - so close - his eyes tightly shut. The pleasure builds and builds - liquid warm and full of aching desire for you growing with each slick movement of his wrist. Long smooth strokes are deliberately made, his thumb running over the head, his grasp tightening on the base of his aching cock. His muscular thighs lift off the sofa, the muscles underneath his softer belly pull tighter with each second as he fucks up into his fist. His feet are firmly planted on the couch and he pretends you are there with him - on top of him, riding him as he pinches and explores, gropes and holds every inch of your body.

His balls pull tight and his cock twitches in his hand a few times before he is cumming with a string of spanish curses and your name falling out of his mouth. He keeps up the pace until he is too sensitive and he lets go of his slowly softening cock - his hand sticky with his own release as is his shirt. The back of his head collides with the soft cushions and he opens his eyes to look at the ceiling. Bringing his hand in front of his face, he watches how his spend dribbles down his wrist and his forearm - if you were here he’d tell you to lick him clean. He waits before his breathing calms down and then he slowly sits up.

And fuck, he was in big trouble. What were you doing to him?

The second date comes around not even a week later - flirtatious looks and fleeting touches scattered throughout the week when you pass each other at work. Steve rolls his eyes at the two of you but he is honestly happy for you and for Javier too. You are his friend and after your first date Steve cornered his partner, jabbing his finger into Javier’s chest as he told him to “not fuck this up”.

This caused Javier to become defensive, saying he would never dare to even try - but under no prying eyes he was so fucking afraid. Because he was him - he left his bride at the altar for fuck’s sake and the worst thing was he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to meet you.

And he never ever felt this way with Lorraine - how his heart seemed to start beating faster anytime you touched him or how it skipped a beat when he heard your laugh. How his skin felt like it was on fire under your touch, how all of his blood traveled down to his cock each night he thought of you. He felt fucking dirty and wrong for that - but alas he didn’t fuck anyone for over half a year and he was touch-deprived, your soft touch lingering in the back of his mind as he stroked himself.

He was terrified he would fuck something up sooner or later. And you noticed it - how he seemed lost in his thoughts anytime he spend time with you, your touch on his hand pulling him back into reality. You caressed his knuckles and he smiled - a real genuine smile on his lips.

“What’s bothering you? You know you can tell me, Javi. That’s if you want to, of course.” The way you offered him a soft smile made him want to kiss you right there and then.

Because yeah, he knew he could tell you anything. You wouldn’t look at him weirdly, you wouldn’t judge him. You would sit and listen and after he’d be done talking, you would tell him your honest opinion. He rubbed your fingers that were on the back of his palm with his other hand.

“I-I am afraid, mariposa. I am afraid I will fuck this up and you will never want to talk to me again. And that would break me.” He whispered, the words meant to be heard for your ears only and your heart jumped when you saw the concern in his eyes before he looked anywhere but into your eyes. Because in reality Javier Peña was a big softie deep in his core and it was sweet how he tiptoed around this thing you had between the two of you - afraid that he would break it. Break you.

“Javi.” You said in a serious tone and he met your gaze, his breath hitching when he saw how serious you looked at him, your eyes filled with adoration. For him. “We are both adults. And it is most likely one of us will fuck something up down the road. But we will try to repair whatever damage will be made. That’s how relationships work.” You shrugged your shoulders, pulling your hands away from his as one of your colleagues passed by.

He grinned. You called it a relationship. He thought it would make him scared - putting labels on whatever was going on between you. That maybe he would run for the hills because he never wanted anything serious after Lorraine. Afraid of commitment. Afraid of his own feelings. But he didn’t. He felt fucking happy. You two were at the beginning of your relationship.

“You are right, mariposa.” He laughed as you quipped “as I always am.” “I will pick you up tonight. At eight?”

“Sound like a date, Peña. Where are you taking me this time?” He grinned, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Wear another dress tonight. You looked beautiful the last time.”

“You like me in a dress, Javi?” You fluttered your eyelashes innocently at him and he felt a growl building in the back of his throat as he leaned closer to you.

“You have no idea how much. Makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He left with that and as he turned around he had to hide the teasing smile on his lips as he saw your shocked expression.

Oh, but you had an idea how much. After all the walls of your apartment were thin.

You decide to wear one of your more revealing dresses - the one in a dark shade of red, tight around your body with thin straps that held it in place, the seam of it just reaching just above your knees. It makes your breasts look absolutely wonderful. A touch of red lipstick completes the look.

A knock echoes through your place and again - he is right on time. When you open the door a single rose in his hands greets you but you don’t care about that right now as you admire his look. He swapped the tight jeans - which you loved - for looser black dress pants which highlighted his narrow waist. He has a nice pair of black shiny dress boots on, his black shirt more loose than the ones he wore for work - of course, a few of the top buttons of it unbuttoned. He looked good enough to eat and you have the urge to lick the few salty droplets of sweat rolling down his torso.

He eyes your figure shamelessly and almost chokes when he sees the dress you are wearing. It hugs you in all the right places and his fingers itch to touch you, your fingers brushing against his as you take the rose from him making a surge of electricity pass through his nerves. The red lipstick you are wearing just compliments your look. You look like sin itself. And he makes it his mission that tonight the red lipstick will be smeared all over him. He clears his throat as he offers you a quiet “You look absolutely gorgeous, mariposa” and you thank him, his hand on the small of your back - as his urge to touch you wins over him. He leads you towards his car, his eyes trailing to your ass.

“So, where are we going tonight?” You ask when you are sitting in the passenger seat and he grins, his hand automatically falling on your thigh, the tip of his fingers dancing across your sensitive skin.

“You like dancing?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Depends. When I have a good dance partner then yes.” You challenge and his head falls back as he laughs bitterly - as if offended. The grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t worry. I know how to move my hips, mariposa.” He winks as he starts the engine.

The drive is spent in you two talking about your past relationships as you promised him on your last date. You tell him about your Texas boyfriend - your college sweetheart. He was a sweet boy, a little shy and he didn’t like to engage much in social events. You were the one who approached him first when you saw him looking at you at all times during one of the classes you had together. He stammered and blushed when you asked him out but agreed and he loosened up after a few months of you two dating - his Texan charm slipping on the surface. You tell him about how he smooth talked you into visiting his uncle who had a ranch. He took you horseback riding. You do leave out all of the spicy details though. Javier’s brows furrow in confusion - it seemed like you were totally in love with each other from your talking, so he didn’t understand why you broke up. A quick “ah” follows when you explain that he fell out of love with you. You stayed friends but eventually, both of you parted going your separate ways. Back then you were still bitter about your break up even if it wasn’t his fault. Things like those happens. But you know, love blinded you and the rage you felt sat heavy in your heart for a long time.

And in return, Javier tells you about his girlfriends and to your surprise there weren’t many. A few flings here and there - kissing behind back of his house, exploring but neber doing anything more - before he met Lorraine during high school. His high school sweetheart. They both were the talk of the town when they announced they were getting married. The sweet, handsome and hard-working Peña boy and the perfect Lorraine who seemed to be adored by everyone. She was the one who taught him a lot of tricks when it came to sex. You listen as he tells you about how he left her at the altar - it didn’t feel right and Colombia felt like a place where he could make some kind of change. Not that he made any after the years spent here. You scold him with a quick “hey”, your hand shooting to grab his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Don’t bring yourself down, Javi. You are a great agent and an even greater man. Even if you don’t believe so.” He throws you a crooked smile, his pulse going from zero to a hundred because of the way you look at him. As if he was worth looking at. He brings his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

“So, tell me; why did you give me the nickname ´mariposa’?” you ask and the mood car shifts to playful and loose again.

He can vividly remember how you were so bothered that you didn’t know what it meant and asked him about it constantly. He teased you and each time you asked - because you could tell he wasn’t telling the truth - he told you something different. It drove you mad, you wanted to ask Steve but didn’t engage with him back then as much and you felt awkward asking some random person working in DEA. He lived for the way you squinted your eyes at him and jabbed into his chest with your nimble index finger as he didn’t even budge. Eventually, he gave in and told you the true meaning of it - and as of right now, you asked him why. He never answered you.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” He asks cheekily and you huff, your hand coming to draw circles on the back of his hand.

“It doesn’t bother me per se. I just want to know why do you call me “butterfly”? His fingers drum against the steering wheel as he parks outside of a club. It was a big building and the outside of it seemed new - a big neon sign shone in the dead of the night to grab the attention of passersbys. The outside of it was made out of black bricks, and the door was made out of glass.

He turns his torso towards you - his knee bumping with the driving console while doing so. And he really does look incredible tonight - the dress pants fit as if they were made just for him and you can see the visible bulge between his legs. You look away quickly to look into his eyes but you are pretty sure he caught you staring as he shifts in his seat again.

“You remember the first time we met?” He asks and you nod - it’s hard to forget.

“Yeah, I wanted to slap you across your stupidly handsome face for how you looked at me. As if I was a piece of meat.” He laughs, his tongue poking out to lick the seam of his lips.

“Well, you looked like a butterfly - moving past me as if I didn’t even exist, your movements so effortless in those god-forsaken high heels you wear to work. By the way, I still can’t grasp how you can walk in those. Anyways. You had this green pencil skirt on and it just seemed suitable, even more so after I found out you really do wear crazy and bright colored combinations of clothing.”

They made fun of you for that - all in a good and light-hearted manner though. Not really wanting to upset you. You still remember how Javier smacked Steve behind the head when you wore a bright pink blouse with the said green pencil skirt and the blonde asked you if you were going to masquerade. When Javier saw how your jaw set and your eyebrows pulled together in silent rage he almost beat up Steve. He came to your desk later that day and told you to ignore Steve, his words of “don’t mind Murphy, he’s an idiot. You look nice, mariposa” ringing in your ears for the rest of the day.

You nod and have to agree that indeed - the nickname does suit you. He grins at that and takes you by the hand when you both get out of the car, dragging you towards the entrance of the club.

The first thing you notice is that it’s super noisy in there - people cheering, music blasting. The dance floor is a big space and even with all the people on it there are still spots where you could squeeze in with Javier if you wanted to dance. The bar is opposite the dance floor - long and more than one barman is working there, the bottles of liquor shine under the lighting that is reflected from the disco ball that lies above the dance floor. The floor isn’t sticky from all of the sweet alcohol as is the bar you frequently visit with Javier. The booths are small but cozy - a maximum of four people could squeeze in there and Javier drags you towards the empty one that is further in the back with not a lot of people there. When you sit he whispers if you’d like something to drink and you shake your head before you leave your coat on the leather seat. This time you are dragging him on the dance floor.

His hands find your hips almost immediately as the music speeds up - flowing through your veins, your ears ringing as you concentrate on the way his hips drag against yours as you grind against him.

Javier’s brain stops working - he pulls you closer to him, his hands drag across your exposed thighs higher and higher, his hands stopping just under your breasts and his touch tickles as his fingertips hover above your ribcage. He is close -you can feel his breath on the back of your neck and his mustache scrape you there, his hands gliding and groping. His hips move alongside yours and yes - he didn’t lie when he said he knew how to move his hips.

You feel him everywhere but nowhere at once - you want more and you moan when he tests the waters and one of his hands brushes against your collarbone, slowly moving the hair away from the slope when your shoulder and neck meet and he places a tentative kiss there. The ghost of his lips is so feather-light you almost don’t feel it and his other hand squeezes your hip tighter when you brush against his clothed cock that strains behind the fabric. You can feel the scrape of his mustache on your skin and feel the tip of his tongue slowly slip out from his mouth - tasting the salty taste of your skin, his blunt nails digging into your waist when you lean against him, his hand snaking to hold you in place.

You are drunk but not from alcohol - neither of you drank anything tonight. But from the sheer presence of him as you don’t even seem to dance but only explore each other. Your hands tangle in his hair and he hums in pleasure when you tug on one particular suck he gives to your skin. It will leave a nasty purple bruise tomorrow but he doesn’t care - his eyes darkening when he sees the imprint of him on your skin. You move and sway, and grind and Javier follows your lead, never once taking more than you give him. His touch makes your skin burn with primal desire for him as they skate under the seam of your dress but as quick as they go there, that quick they leave too. He is teasing you and he grins when he feels the vibration of your whine against his mouth.

He inhales your scent and his head spins - you smell like coconut and somehow…him. Sweet and tempting and he has the urge to drag you towards to small bathroom in the corner of the room. Show you how good with his hand and other parts of his body he can be, show you what you were missing all these years. And see what he was missing for all these years.

You stay on the dance floor for a while longer before you lean your head against his shoulder, your lips brushing the underside of his jaw as you whisper in his ear that you want something to drink and he nods absent-mindedly, leading you back to your booth. His hands now dip lower, smoothing his big palm over your ass lightly - the way you almost draped yourself all over him on the dance floor making him bolder. You throw him a sultry smile when he says he will be right back and he does - not even five minutes pass before he is back with two glasses of alcohol and you quirk an eyebrow at him as you see the long line near the bar.

“Hope you like gin and tonic. Whiskey on ice is getting old. Wanted us to try something new.” You thank him as he passes you your drink, your lips catching the straw and you move closer to him - his hands resting on the back of the booth around your shoulders. He splays his legs wider and you sneak quick glance at him and see the small grin - he is doing this on purpose.

Game on, Peña.

You move even closer to him, your torso twisting as your tits brush up against his chest and his breath hitches when he feels your hand land on the inside of his thigh - too close where he was getting hard. It seemed that was too easy when it comes to you. He eyes your cleavage, his eyes turning darker, his pupils blown wide as you take the drink from his hand and place it on the table, placing butterfly kisses on his neck. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands - one of them digging into the leather seat, the other stroking the base of your spine. You inch your hand higher and he should really pull it away but he doesn’t have the strength in him to do that - his throat closing on its own accord.

Your fingers quickly scatter to work on his zipper and his hand that was gripping the leather seat closes around your wrist - his lust-filled eyes looking into yours frantically. You smile at him, and he isn’t holding your wrist tight, so you slowly move his hand away, his breath speeding up when you unzip his pants and your fingers brush along his course hair that grows down his belly button. You bunch the material of his shirt and move it over his belly, he slides lower into the seat as you kiss him near the lobe of his ear.

“Want to take care of you. You okay with that, baby?” He almost whimpers at the new nickname for him that falls out of your lips. You grin against his skin, your tongue licking the hinge of his jaw and he closes his eyes when your hand snakes painfully slow towards his weeping cock - the tip of him an ugly red color, precum leaking out of it and he throbs in your hand when you take him out of his pants. He hisses, his eyes shoot open when he feels a dribble of slick rolls down the underside of him - you spat on him. And fuck, if that doesn’t make him even harder.

He is hot and hard and fucking big in your hands. You cannot see much of him in the dim light but you can feel it. He sits heavy in your palm. His hot breath fans over the front of your neck, his nose trailing over your collar bones.

“I heard you jerking off to imagines of me. The walls are thin. Did you forget, Javi? Hm?” His eyes wildly look around to see if anybody is looking your way but people are minding their own business. You heard him. You heard him every time and it makes a desire shoot down his spine knowing you listened to him.

The first swipe of your soft hand against him knocks the breath out of his lungs and you squeeze him tighter around the base when he doesn’t answer you.

“Fuck, mariposa. I couldn’t help but to jerk at the thought of you.” You smile - seemingly pleased with his answer and your thumb swipes along his tip, his hips jerking forward at the contact and you tut at him - your other hand pressures his hips to move down again. He whines, sweat rolls down the side of his temple and you lick it - his eyes roll into the back of his head, your hand moving with slow firm strokes. Just as he likes it. If he wasn’t so touch-deprived and seemingly in heaven he would have at least so much decency to touch you too. But he is lost in the feel of your hand against his, the coil in his belly tightening with each glide of your hand down his cock.

The music is loud - too loud - but the only thing he can hear is the squelch of his cock in your hand. It rings in his ears and you keep up your pace - your lips never faltering as you keep assaulting his neck and the thought of you leaving hickeys on him, marking him as yours brings him closer to his release. You mouth at the vein on his neck, feelings his pulse underneath your lips and you softly bite him there - the hand that was stroking your spine digs into the space between your shoulder blades.

The muscles in his thighs flex as he chases the touch of your hand - slowly fucking up into your hand and he feels the liquid warm need to just let go seeping into his whole being, his brows furrowing. You thumb at his head and squeeze him tighter at the base, your other hand moving to play with his balls and he chokes when he feels the feather-light touch. He opens his eyes which are hooded and he wants to look at you when you make him cum - the material of his pants is soft when your hand moves up and down. It only takes a few strokes before he warns you that he is going to cum and his fists fly to bang against the table - the alcohol on it spilling as you take him in your mouth. The wet warm feel of your mouth mixed with your tongue circling the tip of his cock has him cumming in seconds and he paints the inside of your throat with his spend. He violently twitches in you - the salty taste of him hitting your taste buds. You pull off him after he softens in your mouth and you tug him back into his pants.

“We don’t want you to make a mess. Do we now?” He doesn’t answer you, his eyes wild as he looks at you before he is bringing you towards his lips by the back of your neck - his fingers tangling into your hair.

He never imagined you would kiss under these circumstances - and he imagined kissing you a lot. It never was after you’d practically sucked his soul out. He isn’t complaining though. He can taste his release on your tongue and he deepens the kiss, wanting to swallow you whole. His other hand keeps your mouth open as it rests on the hinge of your jaw - his thumb slowly stroking your skin there. He feels desperate. Desperate to feel you. To have you. To be with you. And he tries to pour everything he feels into the kiss.

He hopes you understand.

When you part away you throw him the cutest smile -as if you just didn’t jerk him off under the table of a packed club - and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. He feels happy - that is how he always feels with you. And he wants to feel like that all damn time. When he is with you he doesn’t think about narcos or Pablo fucking Escobar and his inner demons don’t crawl on the surface of his fucked up mind.

He kisses you again. This time the kiss is softer, and not as desperate. Languid pass of tongue against tongue. As if the two of you had all the time in the world.

He doesn’t drink any more alcohol that night. Afraid that the taste of you would wash out from his tongue.

He watches you all the damn time the next day at work. The images of you last night flash through his mind. How your lips felt against his, the pass of your tongue against his cock, the soft touch of yours. He craves more, wants more, needs more.

He was shook when you finally arrived at your apartment complex and he kissed you breathless - his thigh coming between your legs as you slowly grinded on him, your fingers brushing against the smooth material of his shirt before you pulled away and bid him good night. Once again, he stood outside your door like an idiot.

He wants to return the favor. So he waits and waits on the right moment so he can pull you aside - show you that you were not the only one who could bring toe-curling pleasure to someone. He grins when he sees you enter the file room and he looks around - Steve seemingly busy with reading reports as he scoffs angrily - before he slides away. Closing the door behind him swiftly but softly.

You first hear the soft click of the door and then you feel big hands splaying over the expanse of your hips, mustache scraping over the skin on the side of your neck as he looks at what are you holding in your hands. The file is pink and thick and he takes it from you and places it in its rightful place - or at least where he thinks it was before - and you close your eyes, your muscles relaxing under his touch. You’ve seen how he looked at you today and for once, you were the one who gave him a show yesterday - being as loud as possible so he could hear. He almost lost his mind, almost knocked at your door.

He will show you that his fingers are better than any of your toys.

“What do you think you are doing?” There’s no seriousness behind your voice - he can pick up on the small smile behind it and he grins against your neck, softly pecking you there before his hands move lower, bunching the material of your skirt higher. He can hear the way your breath hitches and he grins - his tongue lapping at your pulse point, his finger inching closer and closer to your core before he turns you around. He slowly sinks down on his knees and oh my fucking god, Javier Peña is on his fucking knees for you. Looking up at you as if you were some kind of goddess and he was just a mere mortal ready to serve all of your needs. And he was ready to serve all of your needs. Your back collides with the bunch of files-filled shelves and the wood of it digs into you uncomfortably but you can’t seem to give a shit right now.

“I think you know what I am doing, mariposa. Did you think of me yesterday, hm? Did you think about how dirty of a girl you were? Jerking me under that table where anyone could see?” You moan when his blunt nails dig into the roundness of your ass as he tries to find the zipper of your skirt in the back. His gaze comes to watch your reactions as he slowly pulls the piece of clothing down your hips and bare legs as it catches on your heels and he helps you out of it. You squeal when he puts both of your thighs on the broadness of his shoulders and his head moves forward as he smells your arousal through the skimpy fabric of your panties.

It takes you a while to answer, your head spinning with the image you now have in front of you - Javier’s head between your thighs which rest on his shoulders, his wild hair in which you placed your hands in; tangling your fingers in it, how his long lashes flutter against the apple of his cheeks, his fingers digging into the soft flesh on your thighs - trying to imprint himself there. You can see the expanse of his neck and the hickeys you left the previous night - all purple and nasty looking but he doesn’t try to hide them, wearing them proudly.

“Yes, I thought about your big fat cock in my hand and how you seemed to enjoy yourself.” You tease and a sound between growl and a snarl forms in the back of his throat. What a samrt mouth you have - not for long though. One of his hands moves closer to your core and he kisses the inside of your left thigh first - his hand patting and mapping the trail of saliva he leaves with his tongue. Paying the same amount of attention to the other one as well. He worships you and takes his time - if he could stay like this forever, he would. His knees hurt under the weight of you as he kneels on the hard tiled floor but he ignores it.

You feel like you are in another world. Your breath ragged, your chest constricting as he looks at you through his eyelashes, his mustache burning your flesh in the most delicious way. You thought that maybe - just maybe - all the girls with Javier were just faking it. That his reputation was built on a bunch of fake moans and well-learned constricting of their inner muscles. But oh, how wrong you were. If he was at least half as attentive with them as he was with you right now, you had no doubt they were definitely not faking it.

“Wanna know a secret, mariposa?” You want him to just shut up and make you cum - to stop teasing you but you nod nonetheless, pathetically quickly.

“You remember when I came to you drunk? When I found the rose in your cookbook the next morning?” He murmurs as he draws patterns with his tongue against your thigh and again, you nod. How could you forget? You were so sure he was going to kiss you back then. Your lips almost touching but then Steve had to call. “I was so fucking drunk because I fucked a girl that night. She looked a lot like you and I pretended, just for a moment, that she was you. And then I went to see you and tell you that I wanted you. But this right here?” He nips at your thigh - his teeth leaving their mark behind. “Your pretty little sounds and pleas, and this pussy that is so wet for me?” He growls the last words. “This is better than any imagination I ever had. Fuck, you are so fucking perfect, mariposa.”

And his confession shouldn’t make your gut twist and fill with butterflies. It shouldn’t even surpsirise you. Not really. Because he tried his moves on you throughout the years. Multiple times. But hearing it from his mouth? That he wanted you so much that he pretended someone else was you? It makes a surge of possessiveness wash over you. He was yours all those years ago. As is he yours now, his head between your legs.

One of his hands snakes under your bum, the other trailing towards your mouth as he softly orders you to “open up” and you do - you would do anything he’d tell you right now. Two of his thick fingers work their way inside your mouth and you suck them in - moaning as he softly wiggles them before he pulls them out and in. And again, again, and again. Until you are gagging with how deep he seems to rach with them in your throat - your teeth grazing along his knuckles and he smiles; a twisted smile as if he was in pain, his nostrils flare before he removes them from your slicked mouth and shows you what a mess you made of them. Your eyes shine with lust and want and need as he drags them to your bottom lip. And then he removes them - pushes you even more towards the shelves so you won’t fall and his hand that was holding your ass moves to pull your panties to the side.

He moans at the sight of your slicked folds. His nose bumps with your clit before he inhales you all in. If he could, he’d touch himself. The image in front of him makes his cock jump in his tight jeans but this is about you. He wants to make you feel good and ruin you for any other man that would even dare to try and touch you. Because you were his - he knew it even if you never said so. As he is yours. You own him. Body, mind and soul and the thought of it hits him hard somewhere deep in his chest. He wants this. He wants people to hear and know that he is the one making you feel good - pissing off Steve would be just a cherry on top.

You plead his name - a string of “Javi please” falling out of your lips. He smiles - posessive and dark because he hasn’t even touched you yet and here you are; begging for him. All pliant and soft, and ready to take whatever he gives.

The first drag of his fingers inside of you makes you throw your head back and it collides with the wooden shelf - but you don’t feel the pain. You only feel the thickness and roughness of his fingers inside of you. His mustache burns your skin as he nuzzles your inner thigh as he watches you - his eyes dark and pupils blown back wide. He is enjoying this as much as you - you realize ,when a particular harsh thrust of his fingers makes you squeeze him hard and he moans even louder than you. It seems like he is doing it on purpose and it sends a thrill down your spine - if someone caught you here. He didn’t even lock the door.

His fingers work their way inside you - deeper and deeper, working up, up until he finds the spongy inside you. You squelch around his fingers and you beg for more. You are close, you can feel the pleasure build inside your body and when you are right on edge he stops. A whine escapes your lips as you open your eyes at him and growl in frustration. He grins and while he holds your gaze his mouth inches closer to your gaping cunt. He spits on your clit then and your eyes widen before a drawn-out moan falls out of your lips. He watches as his saliva drips down and he catches it - coating his fingers in it before he brings them into your mouth again.

You bite his fingers, the imprint of your teeth leaving its mark behind and tug at his hair when you feel the first slide of his tongue against your pussy. He moans under your harsh touch - his fingers pulling themselves deeper into your mouth and you feel the first set of tears make their way out of your eyes. It feels too good as Javier laps at you as a man starved - the vibrations of his moans making your thighs twitch.

He eats you out as if your pussy was his favorite meal - and it definitely is. The tangy taste of you hits his taste buds and he works the pink muscle into your gaping cunt - licking and exploring your walls. Javier never really was a fan of going down on someone. But with you? With the way, your breath hitches and you moan his name, how your fingers tangle in his hair and your Adam’s apple bobs with each pass of his tongue? He would keep doing this forever. And ever. He learns quickly what you like and what you don’t as he tests the waters. He is a quick learner and to your surprise - definitely a giver when it comes to sex.

He laps st you as if his life depended on it - his fingers moving with each flick of his tongue and you cry out when he puts his plump lips onto your clit and languidly sucks at it. His tongue flicking against it.

“Yeah, such a good girl. Come on, cum for me, mariposa.” He urges and one look at his state - his slack opened jaw, his ruffled hair, his hooded eyes that watch you with such an intensity you feel it in the pit of your very own being and you are a goner.

The euphoric feeling of it finally snaps, making you trash and spasm and writhe under his touch. Your toes curl and he keeps working you through your orgasm - lapping at what you give him before you push his head away forcefully as he tries to protest and give your sensitive clit a few more soft licks.

When you stand up on shaky legs he is still on his knees - his hand snaking behind the back of your thighs to hold your ass. He looks breathtaking like this - his mustache and chin covered in your release, his eyes hooded and he seems sedated, proud of himself.

You bring him to you by the collar of his shirt and he moans into the kiss you give him - all teeth and tongue, quick and he tries to deepen the kiss before you are pulling away. The taste of your own release sitting on top of your tongue and he grins when you start searching for your skirt - his eyes watching your ass as you bend down to put it back on you. The image of you in your high heels and panties will be kept hidden somewhere in the back of his mind from this time on.

When he passes by you to get out of the room first, he kisses you softly on the back of your neck before he whispers:

“Thank you for the breakfast, mariposa. It was delicious.” He skirts past you with a wink. Leaving a mess of piles on the ground behind him.

And you with a stupidly satisfied smile on your face and a hazy mind.

The third official date comes around three weeks later.

Work keeps you both busy but Javier always finds time for you. He comes to yours at night or sometimes well past midnight. Plopping next to you in bed, his hands snaking around your middle as he pulls you closer to him. And he swore he never slept better than when he slept by your side. So it becomes a habit.

It’s not a surprise to you that he seeks your touch at all times. One of Javier’s love languages is physical touch. Whether it’s just holding hands, smoothing his fingers down your spine or drawing circles on your knee under the table when you eat. Sometimes he comes sooner and you watch TV on the couch and read - to your surprise, Javier is a big fan of fantasy novels but he never actually has the time to read any so you read them to him when you two are already comfortably set in bed or lounge on the said couch- or play board games - and he has to cheat because there is no way he is so good at all of them.

Your nights spent together usually end up with you two making out - teeth clashing, lips latching onto each other, you grinding on his impressive clothed length. Sometimes it’s just a slow languid press of tongue against tongue in the early morning light when he is warm, putty and soft under your hands - the hardness of his walls that he builds up against him not yet coming on the surface. And Javier is insatiable but not only in the sense of sex. He craves the intimacy that you provide - your soft touch and sweet words as your fingers trace each and every scar, the press of your lips against them.

It’s dizzying the way you disarms him in every way. Making him feel so secure and whole as he opens up to you in ways he thought he never would have.

He feels desired as much as he desires you.

He drives you crazy - the close proximity of him makes you want to jump his bones on each and every surface in your place.

“Na-ah. I want to be a proper gentleman. So sex should come at least after the third date.” He said with a teasing smirk as he kissed your pouting lips and then ate you out on the kitchen counter.

It didn’t matter that you jerked him off on your second date. It didn’t matter that he ate you out the next day at work and returned the favor by giving you a mind-blowing orgasm. It didn’t matter that he fingered you from behind on your couch or that he fucked your throat while you laid on your bed, back splayed on the soft sheets. It didn’t matter that he had to eat you out at least once a day and it certainly didn’t matter if it was on the floor, kitchen counter, table, couch, your bed or a chair.

So it's an understatement that you cannot wait for your third date to finally happen. You are supposed to go to a nice restaurant - you’ve been there once or twice with other men that asked you on a date. But as Javi said, “I will make it a mind-blowing experience for you”. And you didn’t doubt it.

So you wait and wait, your eyes keep fleeting at the clock on your wall. An hour passes. Then two. He is never late. You are pacing around your kitchen - you tried to call Steve and called Javier multiple times. You knew they had a smaller op today, “don’t worry,” he said, “this should be an easy job,” he said. Easy job my ass. You were getting worried, your foot tapping against the tiles in your kitchen.

What if something happened to him? What if he was injured? What if he was bleeding out somewhere right now? What if he was-

A soft knock stops the train of your thoughts. Three knocks, the last one lighter than the other. Only one person knocks like that and you almost trip on your own feet as you hurry to open up the door. And he is standing there. Alive.

But he doesn’t look like your usual Javier. His clothes are drenched - the rain pouring outside heavy. It sticks to him - his clothes. His hair sticks to his forehead a few strands of it fall in front of his eyes. You see the difference in his posture, the haunted look in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, what to do with himself. He doesn’t even know why he came to you in this fucked up state. And he wants to leave - he doesn’t want you to see him like this. But before he can get a sound out of his mouth, the hushed and broken “sorry” stuck in his throat, before he can move his heavy limbs, you are pulling him in, softly dragging him on the couch. And as before - you don’t ask. You just wait. Wait if he says something, wait if he needs something, wait if he wants you with him right now.

The realization of it makes him want to rip open his chest and give you his scarred and broken heart. Because you own it. It’s yours, if you will have it.

His body acts quicker then his mind can catch up and he is pulling you in - his strong arms winding to hold you close to him. And you don’t protest, you just hug him back, your fingers dancing across the broad expanse of his back. He breathes you in - coconut, vanilla, mango. It grounds him. Knowing that you are here. With him. Next to him. For him.

“They-they killed them. I fucked up. Fuck-“ He hiccups. “I fucked up, mariposa.” His hold on you tightens as you shush. The slow beat of your heart drums against his ear.

You rock him back and forth and he feels like a little kid again. As if he was five again and his mother kissed the bruise on his knee from when he fell off his bike. He feels wanted. Safe. Home. Neither of you know how much time has passed as he slowly pulls away from you. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes bore into yours and the mellow look you have in them makes him want to melt into you.

“I need you.” He whispers against your lips and his fingers tighten when he feels you pulling away, your hands bunching the wet material of his soaked-up shirt. You want to push him away. It’s not right. You shouldn’t. Not right now.

“Javi-“ You protest weakly.

“Please.” And that’s all it takes before you tentatively seal your lips with his. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t take more than what you are ready to give - enjoying the slow and languid pass of your tongue as you hum in his mouth. You cup his cheeks - your thumbs smoothing slowly down his jaw and his hands rest on your shoulder blades. It’s slow and sensual and neither of you is in any kind of rush. His body buzzes all over, his lungs clench - the oxygen seemingly leaving his lungs and the only thing that can make him breathe again is you. He feels warmth in his chest spreading and spreading some more when you peck his lips and you are careful with him - as if he was fragile peace of art. And to you, he is.

He doesn’t know how he got into the bedroom before you are slowly pushing him down onto the mattress and his back collides with the silken sheets. He watches your form in the dim light as you leisurely undress in front of him. His chest heaves, his breath picks up, his pupils extend. He leans back on his elbows as he watches you - how your hand reaches behind to pull down the zipper of your sundress and as it pools on the floor beneath you. Another time he would have jumped at you and pull you towards him. Another time he would pin you against the floor and fuck you silly that you would forget your own name. Another time he would make you scream his name before you would even have the chance to undress. But tonight you both take it slow - enjoying the show you are putting on for him. Tonight he wants to be the one taken care of. And you know it.

You are a goddess sent from above as you stand a few feet away from him only in your underwear. He wants to worship you as his eyes rake over your body, taking note of every dip, every mole every “imperfection”. And you are simply perfect. He holds his breath when even the last pieces of clothing fall from your form and leave you in all of your naked glory. And he seems to be glued in place before you are coming his way. It feels like a dream when your nimble fingers hook under his belt and he hears the metal on the belt buckle fall onto the ground with a clink. He reaches for you as he slowly sits up - his rough hands coming to brush and caress your pebbled nipples. He feels the weight of your breasts in his palms and it is so strange how his simple touch makes your insides burn. All of it is strangely intimate. Neither of you talks, only the ragged breaths and quiet moans that fall out of your mouth can be heard in the stillness of the room.

You push at his chest and he falls backward again with a quiet thump. You rid him of his jeans - the damp material of it sticking to him and you both laugh when you almost push him on the edge of the bed with them. It’s sweet and it doesn’t feel forced or rushed. Just two people enjoying the presence of each other, the feel of their skin, the sentiment behind each touch going straight into their hearts.

His cock is hard, the tip of him resting on his belly and he scoots backward on the bed, you following the suit. The last piece of clothing - his shirt- is gone before he knows it as you throw it somewhere behind you and it lands on the floor with a wet plop. Your thighs swing on either side of his narrow hips and your wet core makes contact with the hardness of him as you smear your juices over his length. You roam and caress his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his neck. Stroking and teasing, and rubbing. And he does the same to you, his hands squeezing your ass before they move higher up your hips, his thick fingers ghosting over them and you squirm and giggle, your forehead bumping with his the movement tickles you. He wants to roll you over, to hover above you, to fill you up but your hands move to his shoulders, holding him tight as you look into his eyes. Your noses brush against each other and he sighs - as if all the weight from his chest had been lifted - when you whisper “I want to take care of you, Javi”.

Because yes, that’s what Javier wants. Someone to take care of him, to share his passion and hobbies and life with. He wants someone to take for a ride while they will wear his yellow aviators. He wants to take someone back to Laredo, to eventually settle down. He doesn’t want to take Escobar down and put end to all of this - retire after. And he wants to do all these things with you.

The tension leaves his body as he yields under your touch, undressing his wounds as he knows you will caress each one of his scars and kiss each bruise that is scattered not only on his body but his soul and heart too.

Bodies naked and souls bared to one another you reach blindly into the nightstand as you rip the condom and slowly roll it down his cock. Javier is big - his cock is thick and you could feel it the first time you felt him in your hands under the table in the club. When you first saw him - really saw him- your eyes almost bugged out from your head. Because you had no idea how you would fit him inside you. But you do not worry right now as you slowly sink down on him, the pinch almost too much to bare.

He waits for you to move as he kisses your neck, your shoulders, the underside of your chin. You feel like heaven around him - your walls squeezing him tight as you try to accommodate to his size. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you lift off him and then slowly -oh, so painfully slowly - sink back down the whole length of him. He kisses you more hungry this time, the kiss heated and fiery. One of his hands cups your ass while the other holds the back of your head - pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, messy and sloppy as do your movements.

You feel like he is somewhere deep in your stomach, the weight of him in you makes your toes curl and the coarse hair on the base of him scratches your small bundle of nerves just right with each slide of his cock. You feel every ridge and grin of him, the tip of him hitting something deep inside you. The muscles on his thigh flex when he starts meeting your thrusts and he growls against the soft skin of your neck when your blunt nails scratch his back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust upwards. It’s glorious - this feeling you both feel. It’s not about the physical proximity right now. But It’s about everything that led you to this moment. All those years of bickering and flirting, of fighting and spending your time together led to exactly to this moment. And the awareness of it all hits you like a truck because somehow, deep inside, you knew that this would happen one day. And you think he knows it too.

The droplet of sweat that rolls down the valley of your breasts makes him lap at you there and you moan, your nails digging harder into the muscles of his back when he catches one of your nipples into his mouth, one of his hands roaming to find your clit before his skilled fingers start to draw circles on it. The roughness of his fingertips and the feel of his tongue swirling on your nipple makes seizes before your inner muscles pull him deeper, the squelch ringing in your ears before you are clamping around him - falling into an abyss. You moan his name, your orgasm washing over you before you tug at his still-damp roots and he hisses - at the way you squeeze around him, at the way you hold him.

You kiss him frantically, your tongue exploring his mouth when you feel him sob into your mouth. He pulls away and your legs lock tighter around his middle, you can feel the softness of his stomach and a sound between a growl and a moan bubbles in the back of your throat. You can feel he is close when his thrusts become more hectic as he loses rhythm, his arms somehow trying to pull you closer, his pace increasing as he chases his own high.

It only takes a few more passes of his cock through the inside of your slicked pussy and your encouring words "Come on, I want you to cum, Javi" before he is cumming. He cums with a loud moan, thrashing and jerking under you. Pumping his seed into the condom and he holds you closer, his forehead resting on your clavicle, his hands tracing over your back as a shudder runs through you when you feel him twitch inside of you.

You stay like that before he moves you off him, disposing the condom into the bin and he is surprised he can even feel his own legs. His body completely relaxes when he falls into the bed with you and pulls you almost on top of him - your legs tangle together, your chin rests on his chest as you trace his eyebrows with your fingers and he smiles at you. Because he is so fucking happy in that moment he could burst with joy.

You talk a long time after as you tell him about your sister - how she squealed into your ear when you told her over the phone you were going on a date with Javier - and he grins because if you talked about your sister with him that means that he is worth talking about. He cherishes this information and hides it into the back of his mind.

You fall asleep not long after, moving away from him a little and he watches you - you are so pretty when you sleep. You are always pretty. And his. He knows you are because he is yours.

His lips plant soft kisses where your heart is before he murmurs into your skin where it rests “I love you”. So only your heart can hear it. He is not ready to tell you. Yet. But he is completely fine with knowing your heart heard the hushed words under the ray of moonlight stream coming from your window.

TAGS: @harriedandharassed

#javier pena #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #javier pena reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #soft javi #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal ff #narcos smut #javier pena one shot

[shallyouobeyme]

Map

Platonic!Yandere!Damian x reader (GN)

Summary: Damian and you have to work on a project together and he realizes how you seem to be invisible to everyone else - how you want to be invisible - and something in him makes him want, no need, to figure out why...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Domestic abuse (not shown directly), planned kidnapping, Dark content, yandere, This is all fiction, I do not condone this

Day 4 of my Yandere Writetober, Tomorrow word is 'Golden' so if you have any ideas lemme know

People did not think Damian was sentimental, most of all his family. If a person had an idea of who Damian was, but wasn’t close to him or hasn’t personally met him then they could probably still assume that in private he might be a bit more emotional than in public. This person would be wrong though. Sure, in private Damian might be a little more open and showed a few more emotions, but most of those were rage, pettiness and sarcasm. Damian was a lot of things, but definitely not sentimental. At least not usual. And then you came into his life. 

From the moment he was born, Damian had a map of how exactly his life would be played out. Then he was brought to his family and the map changed. From wanting to become the next head of the League of Assassins, he now wanted to become the next Batman. He wanted to step up once his father needed to step down and take his rightful place as the head of the family. Alone.

Everyone and everything else that was a hindrance in that way - be it his age, school, villains, friends or even his own family - was just an obstacle on the map of his life. He thought you'd be just the same, a Problem to be taken care of and to leave behind. Just another annoying child in his class - which Bruce insisted he attend - that weren't fit for the reality of life he faced every single day. It was just typical that he had to be stuck with you working on a project for a class in which he had a grade to make up, because of too many absences. He didn't bother to question why you had to do the project, he just wanted to get it over with.

"I'll be doing the project - I doubt you could help anyways - and you can just put your name on it as well, then I don't have to bother with you," Damian sneered to you once class was disbanded, already more than done with you and with the situation. You seemed to turn into yourself and he recognized how shy and intimidated you were and if he had been just a tad more empathetic he'd feel bad. Damian rolled his eyes and turned to leave when your hand tugged on his uniform's blazer.

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry, but-but I'd really like to-to work on the project together, I-I really need this grade," you stuttered, your head lowered in shame, even though you had no real reason to be ashamed. Damian wanted to make a snide comment about how the project was definitely better off if he was doing it on his own, but something about how small and fragile you looked kept him from doing so.

That was the first detour from the life on his map. That moment of emotion that no one witnessed, not even you because of how your head was held down. And it was only the beginning. He scoffed at your request, but it wasn't truly malicious like before.

"Fine, but we'll do it at your place today after school, no discussion," Damian stated and left no room for arguments, turning around and leaving the room, not hearing your small sound of protest.

During the rest of the school day, Damian couldn't help but watch you from the corner of his eyes, he saw how you were hidden in your uniform, seemingly wanting to merge with the backdrop of the classroom, how you kept completely to yourself and seemingly managed to become completely invisible to anyone but him and some of your teachers.

So after school, he had to keep his eyes peeled open to see you come out since you really seemed to disappear between all the other students. He went over to you and told you to lead the way home, not bothering to offer to have Alfred drive the two of you since, for reasons he didn't understand himself, he wanted to spend the time with you alone. Detour number two.

The way to your home was spent in silence, Damian looking around sceptically and you turned into yourself like you always seemed to be. The route to your home took you out of the more or less safe and high-income neighbourhood of Gotham Academy to the less secure area not that different from the region around Crime Alley. He wondered how your parents were able to afford your tuition for Gotham Academy, but he knew that you were rather good in school so he figured you were on a scholarship.

When you finally arrived at a rundown apartment complex you brought him to a flat on the fifth story, carefully opening the door as if you were afraid of making any sound.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit messy," you mumbled vaguely in his direction as you carefully opened the door and Damian realized it was the first thing he had seen you say since you had asked him to let you work on the project as well. Then you lead him into the apartment and everything somewhat fell into place.

To say it was a bit messy was an understatement. There were empty bottles of beer, vodka, wine and all other kinds of alcoholic beverages, Damian even caught sight of some less legal substances, but he decided not to mention them aloud, already seeing based on the darkening colour of your face and the way you tried to avoid looking anywhere near him that you were highly ashamed and emberassed. Detour number three.

He saw how you looked through the open doors into the other - not cleaner - rooms and he could hear your relieved sigh when there was no one else in there with the two of you. Then you lead him into your room if one could call it a room, which had a size just barely big enough for a measly small bed, a box usually meant for laundry filled with your clothes and a small desk that looked like you had taken it from the side of the road. There was no chair or even a stool.

Damian noticed Jason's influence - much to his anger - when his first thought was that 'Harry Potter would feel bad for you'. His next thought was that you didn't deserve to live like that, that you deserved better. Detour number four brought him right off of the road like never before.

"Uhm... You-You can sit on the bed if that's okay, I'll-I'll sit on the floor, then we can work on the project," you spoke hesitantly and shuffled to sit on what little space was left on the floor, but was stopped when Damian pulled you to sit beside him on the bed.

"There's enough space here for both of us," he argued and turned to you. "But- uhm- we don't have any space for the project then."

You were right, he supposed, as he saw that both of you sitting on the bed were basically taking up all the mattress had to offer. He sighed and decided that he was already neck deep into whatever was happening so he might as well see where it was going.

"Then we won't do the project today," he stated in the same tone that left nothing up for discussion and you seemed almost relieved, "We can work on it tomorrow after school in the library."

"O-Okay, I'm sorry it's so-" You stopped in your tracks, seemingly on the verge of tears, and then gave it another go, "-I'm sorry you came here for nothing, I can lead you to the door."

"I'm not leaving yet," Damian said much to your surprise as he saw the shock displayed on your face, "first I want you to tell me what is going on here." He tried to tell himself that it was just his vigilante persona shining through, but deep inside he knew it was you that made him so curious about this situation.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked, obviously - but badly - trying to hide something. Damian let his instincts lead him as he quickly took your hand and pulled up your sleeve, he had been noticing how you were playing with it every time you were scared or ashamed. He wasn't all too surprised to see blue, purple, green and yellow splotches littered over the area, some bruises new, some old. You tried to pull your hand away, but Damian's grip stayed strong.

He pulled your hand even closer to him as he inspected the arm and asked: "Did your parents do that to you?" He looked up at your face and saw tears welling up in your eyes. It made you look even more fragile and delicate than he already thought you looked like throughout the day, but it also made this rage well up inside of Damian. How dare these people make you cry, how dare they hurt you. He wanted to rip them apart, wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt you again.

"Tell me the truth, I will help you, I promise," Damian encouraged you and received a weak nod from you as your tears started to flow down your face in streaks. "Okay, give me a second, I'll be right back, don't worry." Damian used his blazer's sleeve to gently wipe away some of the tears - something that his family would believe to be a lie if you had told him about it - and got up to leave the room to call Alfred to come pick him and you up.

He told Alfred that he'd be inviting a friend for a sleepover, hanging up on a too-stunned-to-speak Alfred who was surely already on his way to inform Bruce of this new development, he didn't bother to tell him that he planned for it to be a more... permanent... sleepover.

You needed him, you needed him to protect you, to care for you, to make sure you never again had a reason to cry. You were such a pure, fragile soul, one that didn't deserve to be left alone in this cruel world, he was sure that once his father had met you he'd understand. He'd feel the same way. You'd be safe with them, they'd become your family, the family you deserved and needed.

And if Bruce didn't agree if Bruce told him that he was crazy, that he couldn't just take you away from your life, no matter how bad it was, and take over your entire existence... well, he had already become ready to derail his entire plan, had become ready to redraw the entire map of his life just for him to have you along, so he might as well return to his roots because he was sure his mother would be more than happy to take you in as long as it made Damian return...

#yandere #writetober #x reader #platonic #platonic yandere #tw: yandere #dc x reader #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian x reader #platonic robin x reader #robin #dc universe #platonic dc universe #platonic!yandere #dark!damian wayne #dark content #tw: abuse #yandere bruce wayne #yandere talia al ghul

[thatfreshi]

Can I request an Astarion x reader fic where the reader keeps getting hit on/cat called by random people, and she brushes it off at first but it slowly becomes evident that it really bothers her, and needs someone to intervene or comfort her?

TW - Sexual harassment, threat of kidnapping

Recommended Song: Used - SZA FT. Don Toliver

Ah taverns, such wondrous places of inebriation and sloppy people of all creeds. You and Astarion are party people, despite his introverted nature. It's more about being two people thriving in chaos, playing the other patrons like pawns to make the night exciting, flirting with a stranger to snatch their drink from the bar, and all of those morally grey things. Sure, maybe it's not ethical to steal, but it sure is fun.

It's not a secret that you are two of the most good-looking regulars, but it's also well-known that you're severely monogamous. In fact, it's gotten very close to voyeurism multiple times, which has gotten you kicked out of a couple places. You don't mind public displays of affection, even if they're a little far gone at times. All of that to say, it's hard not to notice when you arrive.

Ever since the death of Cazador, you've been living in luxury. Despite rejecting ascension, Astarion didn't mind getting his hands all over the stockpile of gold and jewels the Szarrs had at their estate. After all, you'd say he deserves it. It's almost like being nobility, adorned in gorgeous clothing amongst the common people, and yet you fit in quite well. This rich adornment came with tight-fitting gowns, gorgeous lace pieces, corsets of the highest quality. Those also didn't go unnoticed, but this night in particular some people crossed the line.

You and Astarion brought your own bottle of wine to start the evening, something to get you loose enough to put up with whatever was on tap. Occasionally you'd befriend some strangers, just for the evening. Astarion had a bad habit of making jokes about his vampirism, so you often avoided speaking to the same people again in case they'd look past his sarcasm.

This night in particular you'd come across quite the fun group, and you'd kindly shared some of your wine with them, which was a most rare occurrence. Soon enough you ran out, and Astarion offered to grab something else for the table.

"I'll be right back darling."

He has a habit of disappearing in most circles, but he's always nearby when it comes to you, especially in a place like this. Of course he's protective of you, all you truly have is each other. He'll walk to the bar and purchase a new bottle, keeping eyes, or at least ears on you the entire time he's away. Perks of loving an elf, as his heightened senses have come in handy multiple times.

"Well, that man of yours certainly is something."

A human man comments from across the table, taking a sip of your fancy wine.

"I know."

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink.

"I can't imagine he's all that in the bedroom though."

You almost spit out your wine, surprised by the audacity of this complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Just someone who thinks you could do better."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, I could bed you for a change."

You almost want to throw up at how bold this man is being. Instead of dragging the conversation on any further, you grab your drink and go to stand up, trying to eye Astarion from across the room. The tavern was awfully busy, far more than usual. After realizing he was nowhere in sight, you move to make your way to the bar. Suddenly, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you back.

"Well that's no way to treat a nice young man, now is it?"

This human snarls in your ear. No one seems to notice the situation, as the crowd is bustling. It's not often you get scared of random tavern goers, but this man is far more handsy than others.

"Unhand me."

You go to grab for the knife hidden under the slit of your dress, realizing you forgot to grab it on the way out. Of course, tonight of all nights. Realizing you were trying to grab for a weapon, the human twists your wrist behind your back, making you yelp in pain.

Astarion had a hard time hearing that night because of all the overlapping conversation, but that sound was all he needed for his ears to perk up and for him to abandon his drink mission. He has a keen sense for knowing when you're in danger.

"Adorable, you think you're that strong huh?"

He goes to feel where you reached for your knife, lingering on your leg a little too long. Then, he freezes.

"Excuse me sir, could you show me where your pulse is in your neck? Make sure your blood's still pumping?"

Astarion has his dagger in hand behind your attacker. The human starts shaking, and slowly creeps his hand off of your leg and onto his neck.

"Very good. Now, if you'd like to keep that precious sustenance pumping through your veins and don't want me to pop your jaw out of it's socket, you'll unhand my wife."

He points the tip of his dagger right where the neck meets the jawline, almost drawing blood. Soon after the human unhands your hair, and scrambles away, not before Astarion leaves the tiniest knick in his neck: a reminder. You turn around and embrace the vampire, finally catching your breath. He lets you stay wrapped around his side as he guides you out of the tavern.

"Are you alright my love? Did he hurt you?"

"Just my scalp a little. I forgot my knife before we left, stupid mistake."

He lifts your chin up to make eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't have to be armed so some man won't harass you. Would I prefer you to have a weapon on you? Of course, but if you ever can't protect yourself, I will."

You start to tear up a little. It's been a while since you've been that scared, and no one seemed to notice. What would've happened if Astarion was too late?

"Look at me."

He wakes you from your thoughts.

"Let's go home. Perhaps this isn't the right place for us."

You wrap your arm around his, holding onto his sleeve. Darkvision is nice at times like this, since he can see much further than you. The walk home is quiet, and he doesn't mind. However, he is constantly eyeing nearby alleyways in case that man decides to get smart with him. When you get home you ball up on the sofa, and he makes sure the door is double-locked, something he doesn't often do considering he made the locks himself. He makes his way to the sofa, the plush velvet making a nice contrast to rickety wooden chairs of the tavern.

"Come here darling."

He pulls you back to lay on him, and he unclasps your necklace, placing it gently on the nearby table.

"Astarion?"

You look up at him.

"Yes my love?"

Tears prick at your eyes again. You have a hard time getting the words out, as if it's an embarrassing question.

"Will... will you always keep me safe?"

Your voice wavers. He starts massaging your shoulders.

"Of course my sweet Tav, I'll keep you safe as long as you live."

His voice lowered, a certain serious tone taking hold. Part of him felt guilty things even went as far as they did tonight, but he promised himself he'd never let it happen again.

"I love you."

He smiles. It's not often you just say 'I love you' to one another, it's usually said in many different ways, in actions, in pet names. You save it for serious moments, when it feels important to remind each other of your love, how it binds you.

"I love you too darling."

Nothing else is said. Soon enough you fall asleep as he rubs your back, peaceful and safe.

#astarion #astarion x reader #comfort #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #angst

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

Steve managed to accidentally crush his headphones over the weekend, so he reluctantly turned to Billy Hargrove for help.

Steve and Billy hadn’t exactly gotten off to the best of starts, considering they beat the crap out of each other within the week. Billy has mellowed out significantly since Neil had left though, so Steve told himself to grow some balls and walked into the general repair shop Billy worked at.

The death metal blasting from the speakers was obnoxious but there was basically nobody there so Steve was able to swallow down the rising panic creeping up his throat. Billy was just some guy. He’d move back to California come the new year and Steve’s life would be exactly the same as it had always been. At least that’s what he told himself.

Billy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Steve tripping over the step on his way up then stammering his way through an apology. His headphones lay sadly tucked under arm, limp and lifeless.

Actually getting the word autism out was harder than Steve anticipated. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to telling other people or maybe it was because he found Billy very attractive and he knew what happened whenever anyone he liked found out.

The curl of the lip. The sneer. The asking if he was like mentally five or something.

He managed to stumble his way through explaining that they were his sensory aides and they really helped him not get overwhelmed in public and please don’t punch me again Hargrove.

Billy didn’t punch him, much to Steve’s great surprise. Instead he mumbled something about be right back Harrington and disappeared into the staff only area, only to return with a brand new pair which he thrust into Steve’s hands.

“I get it Harrington. Just take these, you busted yours pretty badly. On the house.”

Steve was pretty sure his brain malfunctioned briefly and then attempted to exit the shop after pushing on a pull door.

Billy had been pretty civil with him. So either it was all some great prank that was about to fall on his head or Steve may have misjudged him just a little.

He didn’t risk reaching out again until a month later when he’d really managed to fuck his oven up and gave himself a five minute mantra about being confident before dming Billy on Instagram asking for help.

A message came back in a minute asking what the fuck he’d managed to do. Steve insisted he had no idea then he just got a short, blunt “on my way princess.”

Billy’s tool box was extensive. As much as Steve would have wished, that wasn’t an innuendo. He just had a lot of kit, probably more than was needed for the actual state of the oven.

They hung out a bit while Billy tinkered, threw out jargon that Steve didn’t understand, then declared it was fixed. Steve resolutely tried not to stare at a peach ass in very tight denim. He may have failed.

A comfortable silence fell afterwards until Steve panicked and asked if he wanted a coffee. It only seemed polite. Billy had been working all afternoon pretty much.

How that ended in them snuggled onto the sofa, Steve couldn’t exactly remember. All he could really register was that Billy’s arms were warm and strong and Steve wished he could just stay there.

Then he snuggled in further and Billy stiffened up. Crap. He’d fucked up somehow.

Steve pulled himself back up into a sitting position, self consciously checking his hair. Billy looked slightly bewildered but more at himself than Steve.

“You…………you alright man? I didn’t push you too far right?”

He got a slow blink in response and being pulled back into a muscular chest. Steve just hoped he wasn’t doing his “simp face”, as Robin had named it.

“Steve”

Ok first name was not a good sign. Prepare for a fist.

“I fucking like you ok? Don’t laugh. I’ve liked you ever since I first set eyes on you, you beautiful oblivious bastard.”

And Steve. Steve had always kind of hated romcoms. They were dumb and clishe and the couples who got together by the end never really made sense.

But looking at Billy’s slightly flushed face and after hearing his confession, Steve thought the romcom route might be the best way to go.

Billy really was a very good kisser.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #harringrove ficlet #autistic steve harrington #modern au

[whillywisp]

Part 2 of Finnick being the most amazing dad/doting husband because I'm sure this is just therapy for my darlings with daddy issues and, well, issues🌱

Warnings: a little long, a little angstier today, implied mention of what happened to finnick. But still as fluffy as yesterday.

Part 1 ☁︎

If Finnick was caring and terrified during the pregnancy, multiply that by ten thousand and that's him postpartum. This man was convinced the very air his family breathed was out to get them. He refused to sleep because he was scared something would happen if he dared to get some rest but after you very gently (you yelled) explained to him that he cannot stay up for three nights straight because no Finnick the baby doesn't need to be held twenty five-eight please for the love of god get some damn sleep, he finally got some rest.

Recovering from pregnancy is a whole other nightmare but he made it bearable. Finnick's favourite thing in the entire world, as previously stated, was taking care of you. So you know he was at your beck and call round the clock. He helped you shower, helped you move around, stayed up with you during night time feedings so you wouldn't feel alone. He cooked every meal and made sure you had everything needed within an arm's reach. Sometimes you were so overcome with love for him that you would tug him close and pepper his face with kisses because where on earth would you find someone as gentle and caring and loving in this miserable world as this angel right here? Nowhere thank you.

But it was seeing him with her that had you convinced you saved a country in your last life (well, in this life and while it was group effort—) to be able to witness something so pure and gentle.

Finnick held his little girl like he she was made of the finest glass and would disappear if he so much as breathed too loud near her. His wide eyes traced every movement, every twitch of a muscle, every breath your baby took. If her little hand curling around his made his pretty eyes gloss over, you absolutely saw it and you made sure to tease him about, for which you were met with embarassed smiles but no denials. He wasn't ashamed of loving his family and least of all his baby girl.

But every spring came stained grey from winter's shadow, still lingering around the corner as if seeking spring's warmth too. And Finnick's past, to him, felt a bit like that.

What happened to Finnick was not a secret he carried in his pocket folded up with a list of names who still bragged of their contribution to his survival or hidden behind forced smiles anymore. What happened to Finnick was public and while he is as not at all at fault for it, humiliation and self-hatred didn't have a mind of its own and regardless of the circumstances and the people that were at fault for everything, he still blamed himself, he still dreaded the day his baby, his entire world, found out what happened. And he told you about it of course.

"What if...what if she hates me?"

You looked up from the book you had been reading, glancing at him where he lay on his back. Your daughter, now nine months old, fast asleep on his chest and your voice a little incredulous as you whisper back. "I'm not sure if you noticed but she worships the ground you walk on."

The smile he gives you is forlorn and pressed into the top of your daughter's head. He blinked, looking away from you and in the blink of an eye you had dropped your book, uncaring where it landed and gently craddled his face in your hands, wiping away tears that stained his emrald green eyes.

"Angel—"

"I don't want her to find out," he sniffed, tightening his arms around your daughter, taking a shuddering breath before continuing. "I do-don't want her to find out. She'll hate me. She'll think I'm so weak. I was so weak."

You sighed, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead before wiping away tears that escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Rage and grief burned in your heart with vengeance and you wished, not for the first time, the need to rip those wealthy capitolites to shreds with your bare hands, to make these vile people disappear, praying they'd take the pain they inflicted on him away with them.

But instead you used the same hands and pulled him close, letting him cry into your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and your daughter, whispering quietly but firmly to him. "Finnick Odair, those years of you life were bleak. Those years of your life were harsh. And you were a lot of things during them: broken, hurt, abused. But you weren't weak. You survived, you made sure to survive because you knew you needed to survive to be free. That was your way of winning. And if we raise this baby right, she'll love you regardless, hell even more, when she finds out. I love you and I agree with you on just about everything. But this, this I refuse to because the man i married, the boy I fell for, is a survivor."

He peered at you through wet lashes, sniffling softly as he pressed a kiss to your chest and then the top of your daughter's head: his quiet way of saying 'I love you. Thank you for being my light.' You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, tightening your arms around your family.

You weren't lying when you said your daughter worshipped the ground he walked on. He was her hero. She followed him around the house since the minute she started crawling, screamed for him every morning and only calmed down when he picked her up and out of crib and in the most Finnick fashion, loved you in her gentle ways. She got that from me, he would say smugly as you had to eat another fistful of mushed baby food because of course your daughter picked that her way to show her love for you after having seen Finnick feed you fruit earlier. You would glare at him over her little sprout hair, identical to the one his hair was tied into on her highness' orders, your heart threatening to explode in your chest from the sheer amount of love it was filled with.

Your daughter was not only growing up to be the most precious child in the world, but she was also terrifyingly bright and understanding, even at such an young age. On days she noticed Finnick's need to be quiet or when he was too overwhelmed by everything, you noticed her making a conscious effort to stay quiet and keep her noises to a minimum. If Finnick needed time alone, she wouldn't bother him but spent her time with you, telling you about how daddy needs his quiet time and you had to hold onto the cushion behind you on the couch to hold back from crying, completely baffled at and extremely grateful that you both were raising an angel like her. But you weren't all that surprised when you thought about it a little more deeply. She was, after all, her daddy's little girl.

The day she starts kindergarten feels like the most emotional episode of the worst soap opera possible because you woke up to them...crying. And saying their goodbyes as he tearfully packed her lunch and did her hair, as if she was off to war. And it took quite a while to coax them both out of the house because I love you both but we cannot be late on the first day you guys please. But on the walk to kindergarten it was peaceful and full of laughter, because they could both pretend this was just their morning walk.

But of course, the tears were back when the gates closed with the promise of keeping them separated for three hours.

"What if she gets hungry and can't open the lunch box?"

You frowned looking up at him, shaking your head. You both were standing outside the gates to the school along with other worried parents, some taking a break from said worrying to side eye you both, something you had learned to tune out years ago.

"Finnick, she showed us she can open the lunch box just fine before we left home."

"But what if she can't here?" He insisted, looking down at you like you were the insane one for not considering that scenario. You sighed, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the gates, trying to ease his worries.

"I promise you if she needs help with that, she will ask her teacher," you smiled at him, pecking his lips gently to stop him when he opens his mouth to voice another bizarre worry. "She'll be fine. She's our kid, she'll be perfectly fine."

He cracked a small smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you both start walking back, giving in with a small chuckle. "Yeah, okay. Maybe we should get a puppy to keep us busy now since she wants to do all grown up things go to scho..."

You look up at him as he suddenly trails off, confused as you catch him staring at something thoughtfully in the distance and follow his gaze to freeze against him slightly. In the distance, still as grey and imposing as ever, was the abandoned building which once held District 4's career academy. Strange feelings that always came with seeing it, both good and bad and nostalgic, make you tighten your grip on his hand and his around your shoulders.

Less than a decade ago, only a few metres and a small canal away from the kindergarten that your daughter now attended, children like her were being trained to kill, you and Finnick being a part of them. The thought of that still makes your blood run cold but the relief that rushed in right after, knowing your baby would never have to do that, is enough to let go of another hour of the countless you had spent in there, training to survive a system bigger than the arena could ever be.

You took a deep breath, forcing to maintain your light tone as you forced both of you to continue moving. "Heard they're building another school there, to keep the spirits of learning still alive and all that."

He smiled, kissing the top of your head fondly. "And I assume you want to help out in that?" The cheeky smile you had given him was answer enough but for him, it was like a sigh of relief, of brighter days no longer stained with gloom of his past.

People and places had changed to accomodate this new change, this everlasting spring, and maybe he was looking forward to letting his soul do the same too.

A/N: i agree this might've gone slightly offtopic in certain places but bare with me. I can't decide if want this to be the end or write more. But I hope you enjoyed this regardless of these things. All my love 🌱

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x gn!reader #writing #fanfiction #hunger games #finnick imagine #finnick odair #moonfm #finnick odair x male reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair aesthetic #finnick odair x you

[spider-man-199999]

The bracelet pt 2

pairing: Nathan Drake x Reader

word count: 4,4 K

warnings: 18+; smut; public sex; unpotected sex

summary: You meet Nathan while he's working at the bar. He recognizes you and tries to steal your bracelet because he knows you're filthy rich. Instead, you manage to steal his heart.

Read part 1 here!

a/n: I didn't proof read the smut part but there goes nothing!

A couple of months went by since Nate decided to disappear into thin air. It was such a pitty that it had to end before it even began, which made your already broken heart ache even more. People say the best remedy in such cases is to drown yourself in so much work. That was precisely what you wered trying to do. You spent most of your days in the hotel, deciding the lobby and bar could use a renovation. Not that it looked bad before, but you needed a fresh start with this place. Your ex was not very keen on the idea of change but reluctantly agreed to let you do as you pleased, as long as it would keep you busy. So, two months after the start of this ambitious project, you were standing in the brand-new lobby of The Ritz-Carlton. You did your best to keep the spirit and style of the building but with a few modern touches of technology, which appealed so much more to the guests. The hotel was more busy with events than ever before, weddings, galas, balls, charity events, all because of the work you had but in. Bussiness was really picking up, The Ritz-Carlton had turned in the hottest spot in New York.

Besides the undeniably significant time and effort you had dedicated to the marketing of the place, your personal life seemed like it was put on hold. The paparazzi had been sneaking around town, trying to catch a sight of you doing something mildly interesting. However, they would fail miserably to this task. All of the recent news about you were only in regards of The Ritz-Carlton and event you had organized, praises on your astonishing work. Occasionall pictues of you and some friends clothes shopping would appear here and there but nothing major or scandalous.

At other times, late at night when you were laying in your king-sized bed and staring the ceiling, while the city lights shined through the thin curtians of your bedroom, your mind couldn't help but wander. And somehow it would always end up on Nate. Restlessly wondering what he was doing, where he was. But wherever he was, whatever he was doing, the only place you knew for sure he was never going to leave, was your head. After his departure you didn’t really have any interest in dating, even declining a few date offers from some very wealthy and famous people. Trying to mingle was not necessarily a bad thing, but every time such thoughts popped up in your head, you’d look out the window and see the faint sparkles of the same stars that Nate spent hours talking about. It made you feel nostalgic, knowing no one else could ever take you on a date and make something casual appear so fun. That alone made you give up on the idea of pursuing someone else, at least for the time being.

And while you were busy buraying your head into the piles and piles of demanding and much nessecary work, Nate himself had very different plans. He took the task of becoming wealthy to heart and persused that with the first opportunity that he stumbled upon. That was exactly why he took up Sully's proposal to work together and left. He left for long, but not for good. Now that he had a few dollars in his pocket, he decided it was time to make his advancment towards you showing you his brand new persona. His heart was filled with excitemet and anxiety, he knew he was gone for a long time but he hoped that you had kept your promise and waited for him. He was trying his best to keep up with the news about you, reading every newspaper, magazine, interview. All this time he was thinking of you, dreaming of you. The man wanted to tell you everything, to explain where he went, to watch your fascinated eyes sparkle while he told you the story of his adventure with Sully. So, as soon as he came back to New York, he stated working on his new, expensive image. He changed his wardrobe, his car, he rented out a new place. A whole new man by the looks of it, but not in his heart, not in his feelings for you. He renovated himself the way you were renovating The Ritz-Carlton. So, a month after he came back, a month after all the work, he decided it was finally time to approch you.

The day seemed like any normal day for you, sitting at your desk in the office of the hotel, filling in the upcoming events in the callendar. You checked on the progress of the current agenda - a wedding. You made a few phone calls and after doing the diplomatic work, that took no longer than a couple of hours, you decided to run some personal errands, such as picking up drycleaning and other mundane tasks. You stored most of your personal items in a room in the hotel for covenience, but it did mean that sometimes, like today, you had to leave the place with a few zipper bags full of clothes. The weather was starting to get colder and colder with each day, warm and careless summer nights seemed like only a memory that was sitting close to your heart now. The leaves were starting to change colors but that did not make New York look any less beautiful on your side of town. But the chilly weather meant warmer clothes, and a need to add a lot more layers on your body before walkig outside.Fortunately enough the sweather dress you had on was still going to do the job if you to put a coat on top, which annoyed you to an unbelieveble extent. It just meant more weight on you as you carried the cleaned clothes all the way back to your apartment. Holding the, what felt like an ungodly amount of weight of clothes over you shoulder, you walked out of the building. You were met by a gigantic rose bouquet, probably 50 roses or more, right in front of your face, held up by someone who you couldn't quite see. You shook your head, moving past the person and walking away.

"Hey, hey, Y/N, come on" you heard from behind you, the voice was somehow familiar but you couldn't link it to a face for the first few seconds.

You turned around, freezing in your spot, but not because of the low temperature outside.

"I've been standing here for hours and you won't even say hi" he laughed, moving to hold the bouquet in only one of his arms "You have no idea how many excited screechings I had to go through, followed by disappointed looks. Have I really become this unattractive?"

You were still frozen in your tracks while he went on, trying to process the sight in front of your eyes combined with the information in your brain. Your head felt like it was spinning and everything was somehow like it was in a haze.

"I think you managed to break me" you finally spoke. And it was the truth, the shock had taken over your body. It felt like you were dreaming. Did you accidentally fall asleep in your hotel room? You couldn't really tell.

"Well, I was hoping for more of an excited running into my arms, maybe even shedding a happy tear."

"Nate what the actual hell?"

It finally got through to you. Nathan Drake was standing right there, in front of you, a bouguet of 50 roses in his hands. He was dressed in a black tuxedo that hugged his body perfectly, his dark hair was styled back with gel. He looked even better than you remembered, making your heart beat so fast that you felt like you were going to faint. He laughed softly at your shocked reaction, making a few steps towards you.

"If you're not going to hug me, can I hug you at least?" He asked, wrapping the free arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

You wrapped your own free arm around him, your head rested against his body as you closed your eyes. You still couldn't believe he was really there, but the warmth of his torso was proving you otherwise. Hot streams of tears rolled down your cheeks, your emotions prevailing.

"Oh my god is that Dior?" you sniffled softly against his chest once you opened your eyes, them landing on the fabric of his clothes.

"I had to impress you." he shrugged and let go of you, brusbing a tear from your face. "There they are, the trears!" he chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief, taking a step back from him. You had so many questions to ask, it felt like your head was going to explode, followed by the rest of your body. A cool breeze blew past the two of you, making your hair softly sway to the side while you held eye contact with him. It kind of brought you back into reality, in your dreams it was never cold, just endless summer.

"I have so many things to ask-" you started, but were cut off by the flowers being shoved in your face.

"Take these, my back hurts, I've been carrying them for so long"

"I have 3 bags of drycleaning in my hands, literally" you whined to him, moving the bags to your front and with a swift motion placing them over your forearm.

"Well in such case, why don't we take my car and you can ask anything you'd like?" he offered, reaching in his pocket and taking out the keys to unlock a black Mercedez GL that was parked on the street next to the two of you.

"That's your car?"

"Yes" he replied shortly, opening the back door and placing the roses inside gently.

"Who are you? What did you do to Nate?"

He laughed at your response, taking your bags off of you and putting them in the car as well before he grabbed your hand and pulled you towardws him. Like the gentleman he was, his arm wrapped around your waist before he held the passenger door for you, closing it after you sat inside.

"Can I ask my questions now?" you asked once the two of you drove off in an unknown to you direction.

"You can ask and ruin my very cool bad ass story about how I have money now or..." he said, turning his head towards you with a playful spark in his eyes and and a cheerful smile. "You could wait for us to get where I'm taking you and let me explain everything."

"Yeah I think I preffer asking, actually"

He shook his head and laughed at you, stopping at a red light.

"Okay fine, but you're totally killing the vibe."

"Okay I'll ask only one question now and you can tell me your mindblowing story whenever you think is best."

"We have a deal."

"Fine, then, why didn't you warn me about leaving? It was kind of scary to just have you stop showing up to work one day."

Heavy silence followed after your question echoed into the car. You turned your head to stare at his expression, studying his side profile. You could see his brows furrow while he thought of the answear, one arm let go of the wheel, elbow against the armrest on the car door while he rubbed a finger under his nose, his hand covering his mouth. He kind of seemed nervous.

"Well, honestly it wasn't something I planned to happen, it just did." he said finally.

It was your turn to furrow your brows now, but in utter confusion.

"You make it sound like you were abducted"

"More like recruited? I didn't have the time to find you and explain everything, and it's not like I have your number to call. You wanted to keep things professional between us. And I couldn't even think about explaining anything back then, you know? I wasn't really sure what was going to happen either."

"But it was scary. We didn't know if you were alive or not, you could have gotten into an accident or something, I had no information on you. I made the restaurant manager call you and your phone was turned off, I called in all the hospitals in the region around the hotel and around your apartment for you."

"I didn't know you were so worried."

"I was, I felt horrible and responsible. For a moment I thought about calling the police and tell them you were missing."

"Gosh, you care so much about me? It's almost as if you like me or something?" he joked, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

"Oh my god" you whispered in annoyance, laughing softly at his words.

It was odd, you never imagined yourself actually being into someone like him, someone so different to the men you were used to dating. But there you were, in his car, following him with no direction to wherever he pleased to go. Before you even had time to try and continue this conversation, he parked the car and turned the engine off.

The second you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by the sounds of waves crashing into land and the fresh smell of salt water. It was already late in the evening when Nate picked you up from the hotel, which meant it had gotten cold enough outside to make you shiver, even without the soft breeze that was blowing. You looked around, your attention immediately captured by the flickering lights of the amusement park on Coney Island. Unfortubately for you, who got excited from the thought of riding some of the rides with Nate, even if it meant you would look like crazy people wearing something so formal there, the park was closed and everyone was long gone. Your head turned to look for Nate in confusion, seeing him stand next to you with his hands in his pockets. He reached out a hand for you, taking yours and motioning for him to follow you. And you did, once again, follow him without asking any questions. He lead you towards the beach, an area that was unfamiliar to you. Soon you reached a big bell tent, open and inside there was a set-up simillar to your first date night with him - poof chairs, blankets, fairly lights. He walked you inside, helping you sit on one of the poof chairs and plopping down on one himself. You coudln't lie, it was so thoughtful, so beautiful and romantic. For the second time this cocky, slightly annoying man had left you speechless. You were so mesmerized by the scenery that you didn't even notice him stand and take out a bottle of champage out of somewhere and pour it in two glasses. You took one of them, clicking it with his before taking a sip.

"Nate this is... I don't even know what to say."

"Don't get used to it, it's my apology for leaving the way I did." He sat down next to you

"Well that was anticlimatic"

"I didn't mean it that way." he rolled his eyes, placing the glass on the ground. "I wanted this to be special, we haven't seen each other in so long and in my head this whole thing was going to happen in the summer but plans got delayed."

"Is now the time for you to tell me the amazing story of Nathan Drake's adventure?"

"You bet it is!" he laughed.

And he did tell you everything, about his brother and about Sully. He he went into great detail about everything that he went through in the last few months. And while he was speaking, you were going through every possible emotion you could think of, listening with your jaw practically on the floor. He would laugh at your reactions, copying your face to make fun of you.

"You're awful!" you would whine, hitting his chest playfully

"Oh, I'm awful? Why are you here then?"

"You're lucky, I like awful."

''You know..." he started, taking his glass and finishing the remaining content in it. "The whole time I couldn't really stop thinking about you."

Silence suddnely fell upon the two of you after his words, making your gaze turn from the pleasant view of the outside beach to the more pleasant one, his eyes.

"I thougut about you too" you whispered softly.

"It got the point where I couln't really... get rid of this" he reached for the inside pocket of his tux, taking out the diamond bracelet that you gave him.

It sparkled softly under the soft fairly lights around you. Your eyes stared at his hand, moving rapidly between his face and his palm. You couldn't believe your eyes. No matter how hard you tried, the damn bracelet somehow just wouldn't leave your life. Truthfully, you didn't really know what you were feeling in that moment. You were upset because you wanted to get rid of it at all cost, but in a weird, nostalgic way, you were glad to see it.

"Actually, I had it on me the whole time, to remind me of you." he spoke after he noticed your state.

Suddenly all the negative associations you had with the expensive item melted away and were replaced by the hearthwarming feelings his words brought. He put the bracelet on your wrist, making you shiver with the contact.

"Can I be honest about something?" you asked, your eyes fixed on the diamonds.

He nodded in response, making you look back at him.

"Truly, I've never met anyone so... romantic?"

"After everything you thought THAT was romantic?"

"No, I mean this whole thing. The flowers, the beach, the bracelet. This is more romantic than a proposal, and I've been proposed to... twice."

"The beach was actually a reference to something else." He mumbled before taking a sip from his glass.

It made you think for a second and suddenly the memory of your first intearaction came to the surface, making you blush.

"You dog!" you laughed, looking at him with the side of your eye.

He laughed as well, laying on his side, turning his body in your direction.

"Come here." he said, reffering to his chair.

You did your best to move over to him eleganly, not sure how well it worked out judging by his giggles. Or maybe he was just tipsy from the champagne? You sat down next to him, having him wrap an arm around your shoulders like he did on your first date. Your head rested against his chest while you snuggled up against him, only now realizing how actually cold you were before that. You closed your eyes, listening to the rythmic sound of his heartbeat as your hand rested against his stomach. You couldn't tell how long you sat there like this before you started playing with his tie. He noticed your actions, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before his hand travelled down to your waist, drawing soft circles on it. In the moment of silence, you could hear the sound of waves crashing in the background and it felt so calm, so perfect, even. Nate's hand was now slowly travelling up and down your back, going further down with each movement, until it finally landed on your butt. You giggled into his chest when you felt his hand there, making you look up at him. The both of you stared into each other's eyes for what felt like forever, until his lips finally crashed into yours. The kiss was passionate and long, it tasted like champagne and it was enough to make your head spin, while your hand left the tie alone and moved to his shoulder. His grip on your ass was now harsh and needy, trying to pull your hips closer to his own while he was squeezing. You broke the heated kiss to catch your breaths, suddenly feeling shy because of the butterflies that were going wild to the rythm of your heartbeats. You started kissing his jawline, softly, to hide that fact, your hand loosening the tie around his neck. Nate was quick to get out of his jacket, throwing it on the floor. His hands found their way back to your body, touching and grabbing everything he could. You took off his tie, placing it over your own head. He laughed at your act, pulling you by that same tie now and kissing you hungrily again. This time he was even more passionate, if that were even possible, his tongue danced against yours while his hands grabbed your wast and pulled you over on top of him, making you sit on his lap. Your hands were grabbing his hair, ruining the way he had styled it. After a few minutes of making out, you broke the kiss for air again. Now he looked more like the Nate you remembered, no fancy tuxedo, no tie, just a normal, very handsome guy. You smiled at him, undoing the bottons on his shirt while his hands roamned around your body. Once the shirt was undone and open, you had to bite your lip at the sight of his body. You knew he was toned, you just didn't know he was actually shredded as well. He smiled confidently at your reaction, but you kissed him before he could make the snarky comment you knew was already formed in his head.

You were growing more and more needy for him by the minute and he knew. Truth was, the feeling was mutual. He spent too many nights alone in bed thinking about this, thinking about you, imagining the exact moment your hands would be in his hair, his lips would be on yours. He couldn't help but be impatient, try to push you towardws going further and further into the heat of the moment. And while he was so lost in this timeless dance of your tongues together, the reality of his deepest desire being better than anything he could ever imagine, you had to break the kiss, making him moan with annoyance.

"Can we really do it here?" You asked, out of breath

"What's stopping us?" he asked back, attacking your jaw and neck with his lips.

"Well it's kind of... public?"

"You were the one.... who wanted.... sex on the beach" he said between kisses.

"The cocktail, Nate"

"I suggested the cocktail, you wanted the other thing"

"You really need to learn when to shut up"

"You need to learn how to lose an arguement"

You rolled your eyes at him but kissed him again, your hands undoing his belt and pants. He was smiling through the whole kiss, which made you even more annoyed with his cockiness. Speaking of cock, his was painfully hard, and you could tell by the way it twitched when your hand accidentally brushed against it in the process of unzipping his pants. You wasted no time, your eagerness was matching his and the thrill of someone catching you in the act was sending a type of feeling through your veins that you couldn't remember feeling before. Was it adreanline? Or were you just incredibly turned on? You slipped his member out of the boxers as well, giving it a few strokes with your hand which resulted in a hitched breath, followed by moans from Nate. He wasn't going to waste time either, hand slipping under your dress and pulling your panties to the side so he could touch you as well. The kiss was broken at that point, both of you looking into eachother's eyes. You two knew already there was no need for any foreplay since you were almost dipping on his fingers now and without saying anything, he grabbed your waist ang guided you to hover above him. The poof was a bit too unstable to help you with balancing on your knees but it had to do. Your hand held his dick in place before you slipped down on it slowly, making Nate throw his head back in ecstacy.

"This is so much better than I expected" he said holding you down while you were adjusting to the size.

It didn't take you long, pecking his lips before you started moving your hips in circles while you watched the expression on his face change from sweet and loving to lustful. He helped you move up and down his lenght because your mind was now too preoccupied and overstimulated to have such a complex thought about rythim and movement. It was all him and him only, nothing else in the world existed but this. He pulled your chess to his while you bounced on him, his hands now on your ass to guide you while his moans filled your ear. You weren't holding back on moaning or saying his name either, it simply felt too good to even try. Your hands were touching his muscles while you moved, your lips nibbling and biting on his neck. At some point your nails were digging into the skin of his chest and arms, but your mind was too clouded to even notice that. All you could really feel was the way he stretched your walls, his own hips now moving upwards to be fucking into you. You bit on his shoulder as you felt your walls tightening around him, and from the looks of it, he was feeling that you were close as well. He groaned your name deciding it was a good idea to push your hips down while he slammed himself into you, making you yelp as he hit a spot you didn't know existed. It felt so good you were having doubts it was real. You started screaming his name, feeling yourself finally release onto him while he moaned and moved. His hand travelled up from your ass to your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling you into a very tight hug while he moaned and groaned. You felt him cum inside you just as you were done with your orgams, your body collapsing onto his. You sat like this for a while, panting, hearts wildly beating.

"You have to tell me where you get your clothes dry cleaned, my pants are ruined"

"Jesus Christ, Nathan! I just gave you an orgasm and you're thinking about dry cleaning?"

"Yeah because of that orgasm, my pants are ruined, we orgasmed everywhere!"

You sat up to look at him, your hands on his chest while you shook your head.

"Okay fine. Our second date will be at the dry cleaners."

"Technically this was the second date."

"I hate you, so much."

"Oh, darling, we both know you don't."

#fanfiction #nathan drake x y/n #nathan drake smut #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake #uncharted imagine #uncharted #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #nathan drake imagine #nathan drake x you #peter parker x reader

[yostresswritinggirl]

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥

pairing -> Alhaitham x Reader

word count -> 2249 words

themes : temporary paralysis, physical therapy, angst with comfort, feelings of distress and helplessness, specific description of passing out and weakness, reader discretion is advised, Alhaitham is staying by your side and helping you recover pretty much

A delicate foreign flower encased in a glass case. Unable to resist the gift, this admirer seemed to be too eager for you to open the glass for closer inspection. In the comforts of your home, a simple touch had made you as delicate as the frozen flora. If only Alhaitham had been there sooner. (Cyno ver., Tighnari ver.)

The glass case in your hand was not only heavy but cold, so cold in fact, that you had to pull your sleeves as cover for your freezing hands.

You'd soon find out that the man before you was a mask-less Fatui agent but currently, he is but a Snezhnayan tourist, perhaps a merchant with the exquisite gift he had bestowed upon you. Fatuus are barely seen in Sumeru after all, and they are usually Fatui Skirmishers in the desert side.

You also have a penchant for being unable to say no. At least, an outright refusal.

"Thank you for this." You stated with a forced smile as your eyes darted around, desperately looking for a sign of your silver-haired lover. Of course, the one time you needed him the most, he wasn't there.

"Why are you not opening it? Open it." He was infuriatingly persistent and demanding, so unlike your secret lover. Like there was some sense of urgency. At that time it made sense, in the public's eye you were a free fish in the sea with a lot of hooks thrown in front of you.

"I'm sure it looks pretty, I'm really thankful!" You winced as you adjusted your sleeve to cover more of your skin as one of your fingertip painfully stuck to the cold surface. "But I'm scared I might drop it, and we're in the middle of the street."

You were expecting an offer to perhaps hold the box, maybe open it for you and pass the flower instead but - "Then let me take you somewhere private so you don't have to struggle -"

"On second thought, I just realized I have something urgent to go to!" Red flag, red flag, red flag. You didn't even hesitate to show your defiance as you evade his hand that wanted to hold your wrist, quickly walking backward towards the bazaar's main doors. "Thank you for the gift! We can talk about it next time!"

And you disappeared behind the double doors, steps heavy as you made haste to your home before the stranger could see which direction you went to.

In the safety of your home, you couldn't help but laugh a breathless laugh at what you thought was exaggeration. It's not the first time you met a persistent suitor, nor received an odd gift, but somehow that foreigner just rubbed you wrong.

Perhaps next time you meet, you can offer an apology for your actions. If the gift is good, at least.

Looking at the glass case on your coffee table, you can help but admire it now that you weren't being pressured to. It was thick enough that it might not even break if you were to drop it from shoulder height, but the lid was made of a thinner material to see the content inside - if there wasn't a fog rolling inside it.

Pulling the lid off and quickly putting it down on the table before the frostbite hits your nerves, you watch in awe as the fog inside seemingly spills over the walls of the container on to the tabletop.

The flower itself looked like it was made of a deep blue glass with gold-like pollen surrounding an illuminated pointy crystal in the middle. There are also icy crystals nestled between the other petals. This is definitely from outside of Sumeru, you surmised as you plucked it off the dry ice bedding.

It was cold to the touch, the frostbite biting painfully like pinpricks on your fingertips before it numbed away almost immediately. You only got to admire it for a few seconds before your limbs started to feel heavy.

Bracing yourself on the table, your body started to slump forward against your will until your arms sent the glass and the ice off to your tiled floor. But you didn't hear a single thing when you should have heard the loud clatter, no, instead a piercing ringing sound invaded your ears.

Everything felt so heavy and so cold, yet you could feel your skin breaking out into a sweat. What's happening to you? Trying to focus on your dwindling breathing, your barely open eyes caught sight of your front door opening, a black and white figure entering your home.

It only registered in your mind that everything is washed in monochrome colors. But you know that build anywhere even without color.

Only did you hear Alhaitham's muffled call of your name did you finally feel safe enough to close your eyes.

Investigation

Alhaitham praised himself for following his gut feeling when he passed by your house that day, hearing the muffled but loud sound of items falling on the ground. Then a standstill.

If he had let it go as a mere accident, he wouldn't have been able to see the state you were in and administered the proper first aid: body cold and covered in sweat, nails a purplish blue, heartbeat slow and breathing low, and that darned flower slowly freezing your fingers.

He was admittedly scared beyond insanity, the usually well-kept Scribe was a mess upon arrival, words louder than he wanted as he demanded for a doctor.

Only when you stabilized did they break the news to him: symptoms that match syncope, but with a side effect of paralysis. The recovery is slower than any of the cases they had dealt with and so there was nothing they can do without any leads other than to wait.

Even the best of the Amurta scholars cannot identify the flower when he asked around, careful not to touch the flora itself. The powerful Akasha terminal had nothing to offer either, restricted records exhausted yet yielding no results.

Alhaitham rarely left home at this point, only leaving when there was a lead or something to get when you request it. His work as Grand Scribe was forgotten to focus on his goal, and when the Grand Sage himself visited to reprimand him for his work ethic, the only answer he got was to bring his work to him instead.

Day and night he spent his time glued to his study table with a permanent frown, papers stacking to a tall pile either from the Akademiya or his research, never once stopping until his desk was clear.

Kaveh initially thought that Alhaitham was playing you with a loveless relationship when he first heard of your relationship. But as he stood by the doorway, presence unnoticed by the Scribe as he fought to stay awake for 3 days now, he remembered that the man had always had a strict work setup:

Alhaitham never brought his work home, always putting a boundary between his work and personal life.

Yet here he was, throwing away his stability and vices to help you. Kaveh had never been so convinced that the Scribe was truly in love.

Recovery

The idea of kicking Kaveh out of the house crossed his mind once when he decided that you had to stay under the same roof until you recovered. He didn't have an extra room and the only other room up to his standards would be his -

And so began your confinement to his bedroom. With how you spend more time staying there than him sleeping in his own bed, it may as well have been named your room.

The first few days of recovery passed by quickly on your end, as the fatigue and the lack of freedom to do anything quickly coaxed you to long period of sleep. Your lover stuck by your side the whole time to make sure you at least drank and ate something, even if they are in small increments.

But the situation came crashing down in your mind one day, Alhaitham finding you crying quietly, eyes wide with fear, chest heaving with desperate breaths. You couldn't even squeeze his hand when he held it close, couldn't reply when he asked if you're struggling to breathe. He was also powerless on that situation, unable to do anything but hold you close until you cried yourself to sleep.

It was embarrassing, demeaning even, having to be taken care of like this. Alhaitham became your arms and legs, practically nothing without him, and on more than one occasion the thought affected you more than your condition.

After all, your relationship with Alhaitham is still in a fragile state. Not quite friends yet not quite lovers - before this incident, he was still in the process of courting you. Your wary glances towards him when he's caring for you may be obvious, but whether he noticed or not, he never addressed it.

Ever since the start of your care, Alhaitham had developed a habit you never foresaw: how he's always holding your limp hand. While he's not exactly aversive to physical affection, he was never this confrontational about it.

Every time he's in the room, the first thing he does is hold your hand and only letting go when absolutely necessary. Often you find your eyes lingering there, guilty that you can't squeeze his hand.

One day, with the pillows propped up against the headboard so you can sit up and rest against it, you were in the middle of teasing Alhaitham about the memory of your first date when his head snapped towards his hand.

His eyes were wide and bewildered as he squeezed your hand, and that's when you realized it - your fingers twitched in response to the pressure. "Do that again." And soon, you managed to curl your fingers, loosely wrapping around his own.

Progress, it was progress. With your blurry vision and happy tears, you do not notice the way Alhaitham's eyes glossed over in unshed tears, head bowed as he brushed his lips over your hand.

With your hope reignited and your energy returning from the prospect of recovery, the gloom that hangs over the Scribe's shoulders started to dissipate.

Whenever you feel sore from being in bed all day, he would call up a massage therapist with your consent. A few visits after, instead of the therapist he'll start massaging your arms himself daily.

Daily check-ups are a thing, by the way. Testing your grip and the weight your hand can hold, how high you can lift and twist your arms, at some point he stopped helping you to sit up (not because he's neglecting you now, he simply knows you'd rather not be babied all the time).

And as the road to recovery became clearer, you can see Alhaitham also change with you. More open with his emotions and feelings, doing things out of his norm (reading you story books from Inazuma to pass the time, ESPECIALLY when he started voice acting the lines), and generally just a stark contrast to how he was before the incident.

Your doubts and fears that Alhaitham would leave after taking up the burden of helping you soon disappeared. Leaving nothing but love-stricken smiles and warmth.

Aftermath

You'll never know the full extent of his research and sacrifices to find out your attacker and your illness. So you were surprised to find the General Mahamatra visiting to inform Alhaitham that they had found the suspect.

The Scribe carried you to the Akademiya with Kaveh tagging along. And when you saw the sight of the Snezhnayan merchant, the fatui agent being escorted to his trial in chains, your lover passed you to Kaveh.

Your bubbling fear at the sight of the criminal was replaced by shock as you all watch Alhaitham pull his arm back and deliver a right hook to the man's now broken jaw. No one, not even the Matra, dared to reprimand him.

Everyone knew the crime the criminal committed by now. After all, the whole of Sumeru had seen the Scribe walking around with you in his arms or in crutches, always by your side as you slowly regained control of your lower-half.

Your unfaltering resolve and tireless effort had everyone respecting you, some subtly helping here and there to make things more accessible for you.

In turn, the citizens and scholars of Sumeru began seeing Alhaitham more as a human than just the Akademiya's lunatic.

The flower was an extinct flora once found in Snezhnaya's tundras. It is the only surviving sample and the extent of its effects is still under research in the Amurta. When you asked about the criminal one day, Alhaitham simply said that you didn't need to worry about him anymore.

A full recovery would never be a thing and you accepted that fact long ago. But walks became your favorite past time with Alhaitham after being stuck in his room for months.

And now you only needed a cane to bring to your walks, the one you have now was a gift that he commissioned from Kaveh, its design and gems fashioned to mimic the style of his clothes. It was his gift for your first date after you became stable enough to walk by yourself.

One night, you quietly and carefully tiptoed from your shared room to sneak up behind Alhaitham, slightly making him jump when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders over the back of the couch.

Slightly turning his head, he took note of the absence of your cane. "I love you." His hand on your twitched for a second and you thought for a second that he stopped breathing. But only when he squeezed your hand did he finally reply, "I love you." Exchanging those three words for the first time.

Fun Fact: the flower is actually the flower in the Blizzard Strayer artifact set!

holy shit i did not expect to write this much, actually, i had to hold back a lot in the recovery here. Tighnari is the last one and this mini series would be over wooh!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #exile.flower #gender neutral #sumeru arc #genshin impact angst #alhaitham #al haitham

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✶ Bliss ✶

✶ Pairing: model!minho x model!chubby!fem!reader, model!hyunjin x model!chubby!fem!reader

✶ Genre: fluff, angst, smut

✶ Summary: Weeks of being caught between your two lovers, sitting idly by as your heart battles your head, must come to an end. You have to decide once and for all which door to leave open and which to close forever.

✶ Word Count: 2k-ish

✶ Warnings: a lil possessiveness, reader's getting over some insecurities, heartbreak, oral sex (f receiving), some strong language

✶ A/N: This is the last of a three-part series. You can find 🖤 part one here 🖤 It took me a bit to finish this because life was doing its thing but I'm happy with how it turned out so I hope you lovelies enjoy it!

You should’ve never come here. You should’ve stayed as far away from this man as possible. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. The reality is that you didn’t stay away. Hyunjin called and you came now you’re coming around his fingers, allowing yourself to be claimed once more by the lust filled demons of your past. And, oh, what a glorious one he is...

As he lulls you down from your high with gentle kisses along your neck, you await the intoxicating afterglow you’re accustomed to. Only there is no glow in the "after". It's dark and empty, Hyunjin’s words echoing through your mind on a loop.

“He can’t have you. I won’t let him.”

It was such a rush the first time you realized how badly Hyunjin wanted you. He’d confessed to you front row at a fashion show. To anyone watching there was nothing notable about the quick whisper in your ear or the brushing of his hand across your knee. They couldn't fathom the way such small gestures had turned your world upside down.

You felt so special. Special enough to let him see you in secret with promises that one day you’d go public. Make things official. Be a real couple. Finally have the love story you dreamt of. 

“He can’t have you. I won’t let him.”

The undertone of toxic possessiveness sours the nostalgia sweetening this reunion, bringing you to a realization that has somehow eluded you up to this point. In his eyes, you’ll always be a thing. A precious thing, his absolute favorite thing, but always you belonging to him and never him to you. This is not your fairytale and he is not your prince.

“This can’t happen again” you sigh, pressing your hands to his chest to create distance between you. Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes at the foolishness of such a statement, “Will you say that next time too?” You could go back and forth with him, exchanging verbal jabs until he beats you into submission, but it’d be for nothing. 

“Take care of yourself, Hyunjin.” You smooth out your dress and throw your jacket back on, pushing past him with an indifference no one’s ever shown him before. Give him your love. Give him your hate. He can find a way to work with either one. Your indifference, on the other hand, is alien to him. It’s a savagely forged blade to his gut, slicing him open and leaving him to bleed out in the halls of his own exhibit.

“So you love him more? Is that it?” he calls out, catching you before you disappear forever. You pause, searching for the most honest answer that you can offer. “I love me more,” you say, shocked by your own words, “at least I want to love me more, and I need someone who makes that easy for me.”

“And he does?”

“Yes, actually, very much.” 

Thoughts of Minho wrap around you like a warm, fuzzy blanket making you crave his presence. Wherever he is, doing business in Seoul or on a shoot in LA, you want to be there. “Hyunjin, honey, people are pulling up!” his manager, a sharply dressed older woman in designer glasses, announces strutting through the doors. You peek outside to see how right she is. His adoring public is already arriving, ready to file in and shower him with enough affection to last a lifetime.

Not that any of it will ever be enough. Not when the only one who matters is about to walk out of his life. His manager looks you up and down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here. “I didn’t know we were opening early” she quips, cutting her eyes at you. “I’m leaving, actually.” “Oh, what a shame.” Hyunjin interrupts, nearly knocking into his manager to get to you, “See you around sometime?” “I'm sure you will.”

Waving goodbye to his manager before she sets you on fire with her mind, you throw yourself back out into the cold autumn night. As the door of the gallery shuts behind you, so does the door leading back to what you shared with Hyunjin. You know without question where your heart is. It’s not with him anymore and it never will be again.

“You want me to go hiking?” you ask, smiling politely at the waiter setting your plate down in front of you. “Thank you” Minho nods to the departing waiter before turning his attention back to you, “Yes, you. We can spend the whole weekend hiking and camping. It’ll be nice to get away, don’t you think?” You’ve never seen Minho this excited about anything. He may not show it on the outside but that little twinkle in his eye gives away how passionate he is about the trip and how much it'd mean to him if you came along.

Next week will be the first time in a while that you'll both be free of your hectic schedules and all he wants is to be with you. Of course, you want the same thing, even if you run the risk of being eaten alive by bugs in the process. “I think it’ll be wonderful” you agree, twirling food onto your fork, “Let’s do it. I’ve always wanted to wrestle a bear.” Minho nearly spits his drink out laughing, “Who said you had to wrestle a bear?” You grab a napkin, reaching across the table to wipe the wine from his chin.

“That’s what you do when you go camping right? Forage for food. Wrestle bears. Challenge mountain lions to a foot race. Survival show stuff.” Minho can’t find the words to explain how completely wrong that is, he’s too busy trying to keep it together in front of the other diners. Osteria Francescana is one of those restaurants that's impossible to get a reservation at unless you know someone. They won’t even put you in their book if you don’t meet the standards for their elite clientele.

It’s always made Minho uncomfortable to be in places like this. As gorgeous as it is, with its fancy menu and candlelit dining room, it’s not really his scene but tonight it has to be. He wants to ask you something. Something that has him nervous enough that he couldn’t touch his food if he wanted to. He thought that getting dressed up and taking you out on a romantic date might give him the courage to say it but he's quickly learned that it makes no difference. You scare the hell out of him all the same.

“Have you thought about us?” he asks, forcing himself to get it over with. You sense that something’s off. Not knowing what, you proceed with caution. “Thought about us as in...” Minho clears his throat, fidgeting with his rings. “Being together. Just me and you. I know that Hyunjin—” “Hyunjin isn’t anything to me,” you say, refusing to let him go any further. You knew that this would come up eventually. Minho never pressed you about your history with Hyunjin. He never asked if you still saw him or forced you to open up about your feelings but he was bound to get curious. It's only natural.

Maybe he’s been avoiding it, too afraid of what the truth might be, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest. You lock eyes with him, taking his hand, “I love you, Minho. You’re the only one I want. I've known that for a while. I just didn’t wanna rush you.” Correction, talking about the camping trip isn’t the most excited you’ve ever seen him. This is. His ears are turning red and he can’t stop himself from smiling no matter how hard he tries.

“Rush me? No. I love you too. I always wanted—I do want—will you be my girlfriend?” “I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You rub your cheeks to chase away the tingly feeling coming over them. He asked you, he really asked you. Instead of stringing you along with only the hope of something serious, he went for it. It heals your wounded heart, wipes away some deep seated pain, to know that he loves you the way that you love him.

“We should do something to celebrate. What do you think?” “Hmm,” you muse, one of your high heels skimming the inside of his leg. Minho tilts his head to the side, glancing under the table and back up at you with a mischievous look on his face. “I wasn’t talking about that.” you scold, realizing too late what you’ve started, "Get your mind out of the gutter. No!"

Teetering on the edge of the black marble sink, you have to bite down on your lip to keep from making noise. Sneaking away from your table had been easier than you thought. No one seemed to notice you walking off to the bathroom or Minho slipping in behind you a few minutes later. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You shouldn’t be doing this and that’s precisely why it feels so damn good to do it.

Any worries you have about getting caught disappear when you feel the warmth of Minho’s mouth pressed against your core. He catches himself humming at the taste of you as he licks up one side and down the other. Repeating it until your clit’s stiff and twitching, begging for his attention. He flicks his tongue against your clit just enough to get a reaction out of you. You run your fingers through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, tugging at it to signal that you want more.

Kissing the plush of your inner thighs, he spreads you wider to admire the beauty of you being so drenched and needy when he's barely done anything to you at all. Slowly, he dips the tip of his tongue into you, swirling it in circles just beyond your entrance. “Please” you whine, melodic and low. Minho grins at how adorable you are. “So cute.” You grab onto the sides of the sink, fighting for control of your trembling body. “Shit, why do you taste so good? Hmm?” he pants, diving back in for more.

A moan escapes your lips, the pleasure too intense to contain. You shove your fingers into your mouth, a desperate attempt at blocking the next one but it only works for a short time. Before you know it you’re drooling around your fingers, moaning between rapid, shallow breaths. Knowing that he needs to work quickly to avoid suspicion, he devours you with the hunger he should've had for his dinner. But you're so much tastier than anything this restaurant could offer him.

The wilder he laps at you, the wetter you are, and the more of you he needs. Nothing has to be said for him to know when you're close to your peak. Your body gives you away every time. Minho takes your hands, his fingers intertwined with yours, steadying you as the tension snaps, leaving you clenching around his tongue. A sensation of pure bliss radiates through your body as he holds his pace, stopping only when you're too overstimulated to take anymore.

Standing up, he brings you into his arms and rests his head on your shoulder. He holds you lovingly, not expecting a thing. To him, you’re the most precious woman, his absolute favorite, and at last, you belong to each other. It means everything to bask in this moment—in any moment—with you. You close your eyes, kissing him on the forehead, bathing in the ethereal glow of the “after”.

This is your fairytale and he is your prince.

#stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #chubby reader #plus size reader #stray kids x chubby reader

[hheaven-sentt]

heaven is not fit

summary: what does it take to be loved? | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: ~8.5k

warnings: mentions of violence, leon is kinda mean for like two seconds, strong language, mild trauma bonding (i guess??), not beta'd, incredibly mild angst (like fr you have to squint)

notes: this is sort of old and has already been posted to ao3 if you'd rather have a look there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you hiss. Your father’s face scrunches up.

“Language,” he mends, holding a hand up. “It’s just a precaution. He’ll be responsible for public spaces, taking you places, the like,”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, I’m an adult. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. The last thing I need is some stranger on my detail,”

Your father runs a hand over his worn features. He’s tired, you can tell. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,”

Ashley. She lives with her friends now, rather than alone, so there’s no real need to supervise her. Your heart twists with a twinge of guilt, but you hold your ground. “I’m not happy about this,”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” he says. “But, you’ll play by the rules, at least for me. For my sake, dove,”

You frown. “Fine,”

You meet him in a random conference room. He’s tall, with sharp features and blue eyes. He doesn’t seem friendly, which makes your mouth sour. He doesn’t speak through the introduction, just sort of stares straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else. You don’t blame him. It’s not exactly a promotion he’s getting. You barely catch his name when he says it.

Leon.

It suits him, you think. You want to ask what his middle name is, if it’s as fitting as his first, but you don’t. Instead, you toe the carpet, listening to your father drone on about rules.

“Dovie, I’m serious,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t go anywhere alone, got it?”

“Got it,”

Despite your sickly sweet voice and feigned sincerity, you have no intention of keeping that promise. The ride to your apartment is silent. You notice that Leon drives with one hand, the other perched on the gear shift. When he stops outside your building, you hesitate for a moment before reaching for the handle, just in case he has something to say. As you shoulder the door, he grabs your elbow.

“Call if there’s an emergency,” he says. His voice is low timbred and honey sweetened, coating your nerves in warmth. You can only nod in response. He releases your arm, the tension from the area slipping away.

You hurry into your building, and you notice he waits until you’re through the door to drive off. It comforts you in a way. You make your way into your apartment. There’s a distinct heat on your neck when you enter, one that you hope disappears with a long shower. When it doesn’t, you find yourself staring at the phone. What would happen if you did call him? There wasn’t an emergency, unless you count this sudden bout of loneliness as an emergency. Would he show up? How is it any different than calling the police?

Six hours have passed since being demoted to babysat. You’ve been shuffled between rooms to meet with people, answer questions you don’t understand, and fight with your father. You find that being surrounded by people all day has made you exhausted. You take a breath, but jump when your phone vibrates.

“Hey, Ashley,” you say, sighing.

“Did you meet him?” she asks. You almost laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He doesn’t talk much,”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says. You can hear her friends laughing somewhere in the background. “You gotta get him to open up before he starts talking,”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy to do,” you huff. Ashley laughs. “He seems kinda stuck in his ways,”

“He is,” she agrees. “He’s…been through a lot. But, he’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him,”

You glance out the window at the rain. You wonder if it ever rained like this in Spain. “Well, if you trust him, so do I,”

…

You don’t see Leon for a week. You almost think he’s quit, but you know he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You consider calling him, just to see if he’d really show up, but you decide not to test it.

Instead, you go about your life normally. You go to work, you see friends, you buy groceries. You pretend you don’t have a babysitter.

On Monday, when you return home from work, you spot Leon’s car outside your building. Rolling your eyes, you prepare for the worst, and work your way into the building. Sure enough, he’s sitting on your couch when you enter your apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t look at you.

“You haven’t called,” he says. You roll your eyes again.

“You said to call if there was an emergency,” you explain, cocking a brow. “There hasn’t been one,”

“You shouldn’t walk to work alone,” he continues. He turns his head finally, staring at you with the same stoic expression you first saw on him. You blink at him.

“How do you know I walk alone?” you ask. “Have you been following me?”

He nods. “It’s my job,”

You sigh, turning away. “Definitely not creepy,”

“Have you noticed anything weird?” he asks, standing to follow you into your kitchen.

“Other than you? No, I haven’t,” you say. He doesn’t laugh, not that you expected him to. “Seriously, I haven’t noticed anything amiss,”

He nods. “Good,”

He turns to leave, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised at the quickness of the interaction. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “That’s it,”

“You don’t want to, like, scope out the area?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make sure no weirdos are lurking behind my curtains?”

“Do you think there are?” he asks, looking at you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, no,” you say.

“Then I won’t waste your time,” he says. “You’re an adult. I trust that you can take care of yourself,”

With that, he leaves. You’re taken aback at his cut and dry attitude. You would’ve thought he would be more hands on, given what you know about his time with Ashley. You choose to ignore it; you should be grateful he’s not up your ass. He said it himself, you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself. It’s not his fault–or yours–that no one else seemed to agree. He has plenty of other things he can spend his time doing besides watching your every move.

Which is why, the following morning, you’re surprised to see Leon waiting outside beside his car. You look around before crossing the street to him. Without a word, he opens the passenger door.

“I take it I’m not allowed to walk alone anymore?” you say, ignoring his gesture. He stares at you.

“Rules are rules,” he says. You roll your eyes, filing into the vehicle.

He joins you a moment later. You ignore the heat on your neck when he brushes his hand against your knee to reach for something in the glovebox.

“I’ve been walking this way for years,” you protest. “I don’t need a ride,”

“You don’t have a choice,” he says, cutting a glance at you. He almost makes a wrong turn before you correct him. “I make the rules, you follow them,”

“And rule number one is: don’t walk to work by myself?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone.

“Well, rule number one is actually to call me if something’s wrong,” he corrects. “But, this is rule number two,”

The rest of the ride is silent. Leon doesn’t so much as glance at you, which almost upsets you. He pulls up to the curb outside of your workplace, and throws the car into park.

“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally looking at you. There’s a gentle tone to his voice, one that throws you off guard.

“Four,” you say. “I’ll be off at four,”

“I’ll be outside,” he says. At this, you exit the car, rounding it before entering the building. He waits for you to get inside before driving off. You wonder what he’ll be doing for the next eight hours. If his job is to follow you around, that means he doesn’t have another job to get to, so what does he do? You wonder what he does when he’s at home.

“Since when did you have a chauffeur?” Marnie asks, jabbing your shoulder.

“Since now,” you say, still looking out the window.

Four o’clock rolls around sooner than you expect. You find yourself a little excited to sit in the car; it’s a nice change of pace. As expected, Leon’s waiting outside the building when you walk out. Again, he’s leaning against the car, waiting for you. When he sees you, you think he’s going to smile. Your shoulders deflate when he doesn’t. Instead, he jerks his head in a gesture to hurry up. You cross the street, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

“I can open the door myself,” you say. He looks at you.

“I do it for show,” he bites. You swallow, stunned by the harshness of his tone. You allow him to open the door for you.

The ride is silent. Again, he doesn’t look at you. You can feel the tension about him, the way his shoulders are square and strong. His knuckles are almost white from the way he’s holding the steering wheel. You ignore the guilt that brews in your stomach.

“Call me if there’s an emergency,” he says. You nod, hurrying out of the car to avoid any further conversation. Again, he waits until you’re in the building to leave. You wonder if that’s a gentlemanly habit or a job habit.

…

It’s Friday night, and you’re going out with friends. You stare in the mirror, like you have for the last half hour, analyzing the intricacies of your outfit. You can’t decide if you like it or not. You tug at the shirt again, wondering if you should change. There’s a knock at the door. You huff, deciding that the outfit will have to do.

You’re not sure who you expect to be at the door, but it’s not Leon. He looks collected, jacket slung over his shoulders, hair framing his face. He looks normal, not like a man constantly working. He blinks at you.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. You sigh.

“Hello to you, too, Leon,” you say. “I’m going out with a few friends,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to ask permission for things,”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You kind of do, actually. So I can be where I need to be,”

“Well, I don’t need you to be anywhere,” you bite. He frowns. “I can take care of myself,”

At this, you go to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. He pushes his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Look,” he says, voice low and gentle. “I get it. But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let your stubborn independence get in the way, alright?”

You stare at him. “Stop being such an asshole, and I’ll think about it,”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. “Sure, deal,”

Leon doesn’t follow you into the bar, and if he actually does, he makes it so that you can’t see him. You spend the evening laughing and enjoying yourself, which is relieving. You needed a break from everything. Your friends ask about the fact that you got a ride here, rather than walking.

“My feet have been killing me lately,” you lie. “And have you seen these shoes? I’d probably die ten feet from my building,”

When you’re sufficiently drunk, you call Leon. It’s the first time that you’ve actually called him, rather than just expecting him to show up. He’s kind enough to act like he’s not in the vicinity, and you pretend that he’s not. Instead, you lie to yourself and say that he drives very fast. He’s standing outside the bar, waiting for you again.

“My hero,” you say, voice flighty and gentle. “I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,”

He doesn’t answer, just helps you into the car. You ramble about your night on the drive home, not giving him the room to answer because you know he won’t. 

“Did you learn to drive on a manual?” you mumble, whirring your head away from the window to look at him. He glances at you.

“What?”

“A manual,” you say again. “Manual transmission. You drive with your hand on the shift, like you’ll need to use it at any given moment. In an automatic, you don’t need to do that, but in a manual you do. So, if you learned to drive on a manual, you would’ve picked up that habit,”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I did,”

You feel satisfied with yourself, surprised that you were able to figure that out. “You have a lot of habits like that,”

“Name some,” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You take in a breath. “You wait outside before leaving so you can make sure I get into my building safely. You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking about something. You square your shoulders in public, like you’re prepared to shoot,”

“You’re observant,” he says. You grin.

“Gotta know who I’m spending time with,” you reply, grinning wildly and returning your focus to the window. 

You almost ask him to keep driving when your apartment building comes into view. There’s an air of understanding and comfort in the car, and you’re worried you’ll never see it again once you leave. You hope he doesn’t notice your disappointment when he pulls over.

“Do you need help getting in?” he asks. The gentle tone is back, and you pretend, for a moment, that he genuinely cares. You shake your head.

He watches you almost fall out of the car, stumbling on your tall heels and drunken legs. You right yourself, flashing him a smile. He returns it, then follows you out of the car.

“I can make it,” you say, balancing against his car. When you almost fall again, he’s there to catch you. His hands fall against your waist with ease, like they’re meant to be there. You feel heat flush your cheeks, and you almost move away. He steadies you, giving you a look to make sure you’re alright.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, still smiling faintly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,”

Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

At your door, you pat your pockets in order to find your key. Sensing your loss, Leon holds out the key he has. You accept it gratefully, turning the knob to make sure it’s actually locked.

Your heart sinks to find it unlocked.

“Did you forget to lock it?” he asks, voice hushed. You turn to him, fear evident on your face, and shake your head. He steps between you and the door, and holds a hand out to tell you to stay put. You find yourself willing to listen.

He enters the apartment slowly, quietly. You pretend there isn’t a gun in his hand. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and you catch his frame again when he crosses the room to the bedroom. He returns in a few minutes.

“It’s clear,” he says. He pushes the door open more to allow you to enter. You feel uneasy, suddenly sober.

“I never forget to lock my door,” you promise. “Ever. Is…is the window open or something?”

He shakes his head. “You must’ve forgotten this time,”

“No, no I don’t do that,” you say. You wander to the window, finding it closed. Your head hurts. You feel on edge, like there’s someone watching you.

With a sigh, you sit on the couch.

“There’s no one here,” Leon promises, sitting beside you. You look at him. “Trust me, I checked,”

“But what if someone was here?” you say, looking at him. “I don’t…I don’t want them to come back,”

He reaches out for a moment, then decides to return his hand to his side. “No one’s coming back. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

You can feel your hands shaking. “Will you stay?”

He softens when he looks at you. He can see the fear in your eyes. You think of your sister, stolen from somewhere she felt safe. You feel safe in your home, as anyone might. You don’t want to face the same fate. You know Leon knows that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go change, I’ll be out here,”

You nod, rising to your feet. You wander past the window again, double checking that it’s closed. You find your clothes in the dark, not caring too much about what you put on. A shower sounds nice. You’re afraid to be alone for that long, though. Instead, you wash your face in the sink, then throw on your clothes, a loose t-shirt from a far off ex-boyfriend and sweatpants. You feel vaguely comforted by the thought of Leon sitting right outside the door.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” you call from the door. You want nothing more than to curl up in your bed.

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

You shuffle into bed easily. You feel safer knowing he’s outside, waiting for any potential threats. You feel especially safe knowing his reputation precedes him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would protect you. It makes it easier to sleep.

You wake sometime later to a creak beside your bed. Your eyes shoot open to find a figure looming over you. You move to scream, but your eye catches the glint of moonlight against the barrel of a gun. You swallow whatever scream you had left, and rise to your feet. You’re moving without much thought, just doing whatever instinct tells you to. The figure says nothing, just motions to the window. You run through your options. If you shout, you’ll be dead before Leon even makes it into the room. You can’t fight him off, you’re definitely not strong enough. If you leave with him, you’ll be dead before Leon notices you’re gone. 

You turn to face your attacker, who seems to grow frustrated with you. He, again, gestures to the open window. You take a breath.

Follow your gut.

In a fluid motion that surprises you, your fingers wrap around the barrel of the gun, shoving it towards the ceiling. You feel lucky; just as it’s pointed away from you, it’s fired. You knee the attacker in the stomach, and you’re out the door before he rises from the ground. 

“What’s going on?” Leon shouts, assessing you for injuries quickly before entering the room.

You’re crying now, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Your hand screams with pain, seared flesh crying out angry and red. You feel stupid, weak, small. You collapse onto the couch while Leon takes care of things.

The next two hours are a blur of police and your father. You answer questions vacantly, absent from the situation. Leon sits beside you, dressing the wound on your hand. 

“Dovie,” your father says, holding your face in his hands. You begin to cry again. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as close as he can. You grip the back of his shirt, and sob into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you say. It’s true. You’re alive, breathing, hugging him. “I’m okay,”

When the crowd shuffles out, they take you and Leon with them. You vaguely hear them discussing where you’re supposed to stay, Lord knows you can’t stay here. You feel sick.

“She can stay with me,” Leon volunteers. You somehow feel worse. “Makes sense,”

You follow him to the car. You stare out the window. The sun is coming up on the horizon, a new day. You can’t help but think about how just 24 hours ago, you were in this passenger seat, on your way to work. Now, though, you’re swollen and hurting and scared. Your hand feels like it might just burn away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you say by way of explanation. Leon doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I just grabbed it. I didn’t know it would burn me,”

“You’re lucky nothing is broken,” he says calmly. “Your fingers’ll be stiff for the next few days,”

You look down at them. They’re swollen for sure, round and angry red around the knuckles. There’s a strip of gauze against the burn on your palm now, courtesy of Leon’s deft and gentle hands. You graze it with your opposite hand. It aches beneath the dressing, a painful reminder of your night.

“I’m just up here,” Leon says quietly. You nod absently.

He lives in an apartment, same as you. He resides on the third floor, which is much nicer a walk than your seventh story apartment. His apartment is small, quaint, but you aren’t surprised by the lack of decoration. Blank white walls wrap the room. There’s a few pieces of furniture, but only the necessities like a couch, a few tables, a dining area, and a coat rack. He doesn’t even have a TV, which surprises you. He ushers you into the space, gently pushing against your back to get you to move.

“Go lie down,” he says. You turn to look at him. His gaze is softer now, full of sympathy. “You deserve peaceful, uninterrupted sleep,”

You don’t move. “You saved me,” you say. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,”

“You handled yourself pretty well,” he says, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You can feel tears resting in your eyes, begging to spill over. “I was there, and now you’re here. Nothing else to it. You’re safe with me,”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know,”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him. His embrace is comforting. His arms encircle your waist, holding you in an almost practiced way. He’s strong, holds you up where you can’t stand on your own. You can feel yourself beginning to cry again, relief washing over you as you recognize that you’re truly safe. You’re mostly uninjured, save for the burn on your hand, and you’re alive. You sob gently into Leon’s shoulder, and he holds you. He lets you cry. You half expect him to mock you, or to reject your plea for comfort, but he doesn’t. He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

…

You spend the next week off work, curled away in the safety of Leon’s apartment. He goes out, although rarely, for groceries and other things to entertain you. He even buys a TV. He claims that he’s been meaning to get one, but you know that he did that so you didn’t die of boredom. Initially, you were concerned about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leon is generous and lets you sleep in his bed while he shacks up on the couch.

“When can I go home?” you ask over Chinese takeout and an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Leon smiles at you.

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases.

Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

“No,” you say honestly. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch anymore,”

He waves a hand at you. “It’s pretty comfortable,” he says, reaching down to pat the cushions. “I’ve slept in worse places,”

“This is your home, though,” you say. He wordlessly passes you an eggroll. “You should sleep in your own bed in your own home,”

He shrugs, which makes you frown. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,”

“Damn it, Leon,” you laugh. He grins wider. “For the love of God, sleep in your own bed tonight,”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you don’t get to sleep on the couch either, just so you know,”

Heat creeps up your neck, blushing against your cheeks and nose. You’re still smiling, but it’s more flustered now, shy and sweet.

Leon notices, and begins to flush himself. “That’s…that’s not what I meant,”

“I mean,” you begin, turning your eyes back to your food. “We can both sleep comfortably and not worry. I trust you,”

He lets out a barely audible breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can,”

That night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice Leon shifting nervously. You try to ignore it, pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s easier to pretend. He keeps a decent distance between you on the bed; another person could easily fit between you. You’re suddenly self conscious, aware of each and every movement, how much blanket you take up, where your feet are laying. 

“You never answered my question,” you say when he flips the lamp off. The room is flooded in darkness. You feel a little more confident now that you can’t see his face.

“What question?”

“About when I can go home,” you answer. He shifts beside you, almost like he’s about to get up.

“Not for a little while,” he says. You sigh. “It’s not safe for you at the apartment. Your dad doesn’t even want you going to work, but I worked something out so that you can. You can…you can stay here as long as you want,”

“Okay,” is all you say. You feel a little far away, removed from the world. In just under a month, you’ve lost all sense of independence, something you valued greatly, and have been reduced to someone that needs to be looked after like a child. You hate it.

“We can find a temporary apartment, too, if you think that’d be better,” Leon amends. “I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,”

You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,”

“Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s still lying on his back, watching the ceiling as if it’s going to collapse. He glances at you. “If we’re going to be living together, we should get to know each other,”

He laughs. It’s a real laugh, not just a huff of air through the nose. “And what do you want to know?”

You think for a moment, tongue poking between your lips. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies easily. You snort.

“Everyone has a favorite color,” you say. He looks at you with a smile resting on his cheeks. It’s not compulsory; it’s genuine. 

“What’s yours then?” he asks, voice low and gentle. You feel like you might melt away under his gaze.

“Blue,” you say. You almost tell him that his eyes have become your favorite shade of it, but you refrain. “Like the ocean,”

His smile widens. “Then that’s mine, too,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“No way,” you tease. “What is Leon Kennedy’s favorite color? And give me a real answer,”

He laughs. “Green,”

“Like, Kermit the Frog green or forest green?” you ask. He shrugs.

“Just…green,”

“So if I were to paint the apartment bright green you wouldn’t have a problem with it?” you ask. His expression sours. “So you don’t like every green, then,”

“I like dark greens,” he says finally, still smiling. “Like pine trees,”

“I never thought I would get an honest answer out of you,” you joke, but there’s truth to it. You don’t imagine him as someone who likes to share.

“To be fair,” he says. “It wasn’t like I was withholding information, I’ve just never thought about my favorite color,”

“Well, now you have,” you say. He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

He’s quiet for a moment. The moonlight casts over his face in a way that somehow makes him prettier. “If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?”

“God, your questions are so lame,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it,” he says.

“I’d bring you,” you say honestly. “Knowing you, we wouldn’t get stuck there, and I’d be home in a few days,”

“I wouldn’t get stuck in the first place,” he says. You shake your head. “Honestly, I’d probably bring something to listen to music on,”

“Then you better hope it doesn’t die,” you say. “Good to know the sentiment is equally held, by the way,”

“Would you be able to get us off the island?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head. “Exactly,”

“I’d keep you company while you got us off the island,” you say. He laughs. Your heart seizes for a moment at the sound.

“What would I do without your terrible jokes?”

“My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Totally terrible,” he promises, turning over to his other side, facing away from you. “Some of the worst I’ve ever heard,”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, yours are pretty bad, too, y’know?”

“You wound me,”

You fall asleep easily beside Leon. The safety his presence brings is immeasurable, and you’re coaxed into sleep without a second thought. When you wake, your head is on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one of his own. You cling to him like he’s keeping you alive. His breathing is slow, giving away the fact that he’s still sleeping, so you steal a glance at him. His other arm is slung over his face to block out the sunlight peering through the window. Feeling strange, you roll onto your other side. Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

…

It becomes routine. Until your father deems it safe to return to your own apartment, you shack up with Leon, spending your nights watching television and lying beside him. If he ever notices that you cling to each other, he doesn’t mention it, which you silently thank him for. He goes about life as normal, as if he hasn’t changed the way you look at him.

There’s menial touches exchanged. The grab of a hand during a movie, a palm to your lower back as he passes, the brush of hands when you pass him something. And although you welcome these bits of contact, they often leave you a blushing mess that struggles to even get words out.

He drives you to work still, which you’re becoming accustomed to. He’s there when you finish up. He’s the person you split groceries with–which he only let you start doing after you argued with him for days about it. He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key.

You like him. And that is a scary thought.

It makes you freeze up around him, stumbling between words until you find something to say. It makes you stare at him in awe because you can’t believe you get to be around him all the time. It makes you blush any time he meets your eyes. You feel childish because it makes you that way.

“Gonna tell me what’s up with you, or do I have to interrogate you?” he asks one night over pizza. You’ve been sitting with the plate in your lap for ten minutes.

“Nothing’s up,” you say, lying through your teeth. You’re a bad liar, and he knows it. When you look at him, he’s watching you, analyzing your body language. You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

He looks pretty like this, you think. He looks comfortable, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, no weapons stuck to him. Your hand twitches with the desire to reach out to him.

“So you’ve been acting weird the last few days for fun?” he asks. You nod. “You’re such a shitty liar, sweet girl,”

His voice is gentle; it warms you up. “Really, Leon, I’m alright,”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, I’m here to listen,”

You force yourself to eat, to be normal. You can’t even look at him because you’re afraid of what you might say if you do. He wouldn’t mock you for it, and that’s somehow worse. You almost want him to belittle you, to call you stupid, because that would make pushing him away much easier. If he doesn’t, then who are you to cut him off?

“I can practically hear the gears turning, doll,” Leon calls from the kitchen. You sigh. “If you’re not going to share, don’t be so loud about it, huh?”

You know it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes your mouth sour. He can’t help the curiosity, you know that, but you wish he would back off. It would make your life so much easier if he pretended that you didn’t exist.

“I don’t have to tell you everything about me,” you say. It comes out harsh even though it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m entitled to my own thoughts. Or is that another thing you’re paid to infiltrate?”

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at you. “I don’t think I’m infiltrating anything,” he says. His voice is even, but you can hear the hurt in the words.

“Then keep it that way,” you say. He inhales deeply, beginning to gnaw on his cheek. You feel guilt wrapping around your throat. You turn your gaze back to the television, feigning interest in the commercial that clogs the speakers. He disappears back into the kitchen.

You’re almost thankful when your phone rings. You don’t get many calls, so when you see it’s your father, you’re less than surprised.

“Hey, Dad,” you say breathily.

“Hey, Dovie,” he returns. “Getting all packed?”

You pause, glancing toward the archway into the kitchen. “Packed?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” you ask, sitting up on the couch. You can hear Leon shuffle in the other room. “What do I need to be told?”

“We’re moving you,” your father says, plain as day. “We’ll be finding someone else to watch over you, too,”

“Huh,” is all you say. There’s less guilt around your shoulders now, replaced by anger and humiliation. “Well, if that’s how it goes,”

“I’ll get back to you later, okay, Dovie?” he says. “Get to packing, I’ll tell you more when I can,”

You bid your father goodbye, staring back at the phone screen long after it goes black. You feel your shoulders deflate, allowing the melancholy to consume you a little bit further. You stand, return to Leon’s room, and pull open the dresser drawers where your clothes have resided for the last few weeks. Slowly, almost on autopilot, you begin pulling them out one by one. A shirt, pants, sweatpants, a lone sock; they fall onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. You go until the drawer is empty, the contents piled up on the floor beside your feet.

“I was going to tell you,” comes from the bedroom door. You take a breath. “I didn’t know how,”

“I assume it would’ve been pretty easy,” you say, turning to look him in the eye. He stiffens at the cruelty lacing your tone. “All you had to do was let me know you were done with me. Not like you were in all that deep anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything. You cross the room to the small closet that holds your suitcase. You begin to haphazardly stuff it with your clothes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, sweet girl,” Leon says softly, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking disappointed right now,” you spit, glancing at him. “Would’ve liked to have known my life was getting upended days ago. Would’ve liked to have known that I was wasting my fucking time,”

“Wasting your time?” he asks, catching your wrist as you push down the top of the suitcase.

“I tried so hard to get to know you, Leon,” you say. He winces. “And to think, that for a fraction of a second, I thought you liked me? I feel stupid. You never cared. It’s not in your nature. You go in, do the job, and get out. When’s the last time you talked to Ashley, huh? Or is that something else you like to keep boxed away?”

He releases your wrist. You continue packing your things, and he leaves the room. He returns a moment later with your nearly empty bottle of shampoo.

“Don’t forget this when you leave,” he says coldly. You ignore the ache it leaves in your bones.

“Might as well keep it,” you say. “You’ve used most of it anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t that one hell of a metaphor?” you say before you can stop yourself. “I gave and gave, and you just took. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And what do I know about you? Your favorite color is green. And even then, it was like pulling fucking teeth to get it out of you. Just keep it. I don’t want it anyway. Can’t put the shampoo back in the bottle, right?”

“I get that you’re angry,” he mumbles. “I understand,”

“No, you don’t,” you say, turning to him finally. He’s staring at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,”

“You’re right,” he says. You falter for a moment. “I never once said that I did. I just…understand. I can follow the logic between you and your emotion,”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond. Your suitcase finally zips closed, and you haul it off the bed, nearly knocking yourself down. He drives you back to your apartment. He doesn’t say anything the entire ride, not even when you finally get out of the car. You leave the key to his place on the center console.

…

His smell permeates everything around you. Even in your new apartment with new furniture, you can’t wash away his cologne. Everything smells of cedar and smoke with a hint of citrus. You washed your clothes three times when you moved in, a feeble attempt at ridding yourself of him. You bought new shampoo.

You feel ridiculous. Your heart aches, and for what? A man who never showed interest? You ignore the acrid taste in your mouth that seems to never go away. You ignore the yearning in your bones. You ignore the burning in your chest. It’s easier that way.

He tries calling. You ignore those, too. You pretend he’s a telemarketer, or a prank calling kid, or an old man with the wrong number. You pretend you don’t recognize the number, and that the messages he leaves on your machine are empty. You find that pretending makes the hurting stop for a while, even if it creeps back up when you’re staring at the ceiling at night because you can’t sleep alone anymore.

You cook breakfast more often now, finding that it takes up the empty time in the morning before you go to work. The new guy is nice. He talks about his wife a lot, which you find sweet. You like that there’s no unresolved tension when you get into his car. You just wish you could remember his name.

“Do you know him?” he asks, pointing across the parking lot. Leon leans against his car, watching you pull in. You sigh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s friendly,”

“Doesn’t look like it,”

“Well,” you say. “He’s not actually friendly. But he’s not a threat,”

He lets you leave. You can almost see the way Leon stretches back up when you approach. You set your jaw.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says. You raise your brows at him.

“I don’t have to,” you say. “You lost that privilege.”

He shakes his head. “I’d still like to know if you’re okay,”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say. He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,”

You feel like a fool the second you invite him upstairs. You can’t help it. You want to be around him. You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

You feel insecure about the state of your new apartment. You haven’t gotten around to breaking it in, so to speak, so the walls are bleak and empty, there’s a loveseat and nothing else, and a single lamp lights up the room. You wring your hands together.

“Missing a few things,” he says. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting it up,” you lie. It’s more like you haven’t wanted to put anything up. You don’t want this place to feel like a home because it isn’t. This is temporary—as long as you keep telling yourself that, it feels true.

“I’ll get you a rug,” he says, meeting your eyes. It almost feels like a peace offering.

“I don’t need a rug,” you say. You see his shoulders slump. “I prefer socks anyway,”

“Right, yeah,”

He’s silent for a while, just watches you as you set up for the night. He sits rigid against the cushions of your couch, hands clasped in his lap. You grab a frozen pizza from the freezer for dinner. His eyes don’t leave you. You don’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it’s almost comforting.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says finally. You almost laugh.

“I don’t need an explanation, Leon,” you say. “I get it. Your job makes you move around a lot. You were never intended to be permanent,”

“I resigned,” he says. At this, you turn to face him. He’s searching your features for a reaction, and you fight to keep them neutral, but you know he can see the discomposure. Heat creeps up your neck, threatens to swallow you whole.

“You resigned?” you repeat, far quieter in order to conceal the stutter in your breath.

He nods. “I did what I thought I was supposed to,”

“And that was leaving me?” you say. He averts his eyes. “How on Earth is that what you were supposed to do? You were being paid to be around me, and you thought you were supposed to leave?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning his gaze to you. “You have to know that that’s not what I meant,”

“Leon,” you say, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know a thing about you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me about is even fucking true!”

“My middle name is Scott,” he says. You blink at him. “My favorite color is green, that was true. I slept with a baby blanket until I was thirteen years old. I lost my parents when I was young. I used to be a cop,”

He unloads. For the first time since you met him, he lets you into his head a little bit. You take in a breath.

“I don’t…” he begins, then shuts his mouth again. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know how to be…like this anymore. Vulnerable,”

You join him on the couch. He watches you carefully. “That’s okay,”

“It’s something I’m working on,” he says, smiling slightly. You can’t fight one of your own. “I think you make it easier,”

“I’ll be here to listen,” you say quietly. “You know you’re always welcome,”

He grins then. “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You laugh. “I always want you here,”

There’s something left unsaid between you, but he’s looking at you and laughing at your jokes, and you feel like the world begins to spin again. You feel like the sun shines a little brighter outside, and the colors are clearer, and songs sound like music. 

…

You find out that his name is Ryan. He’s more like a personal chauffeur than his intended job, but you like him well enough. Leon spends most of his time on your couch. Things are normal again. He offers to cook dinner most nights, which you appreciate. He does end up buying you a rug–he claims it’s because his feet get too cold without it.

“If you do that one more time, I’m kicking you out,” you scold, swatting Leon’s hand away for the millionth time. He laughs loudly, widely, and it breathes a new air into your lungs.

“I swear to God, sweet girl,” he says between laughter. “There’s something on your face,”

“Then just get it!” you say, wiping your hand aggressively against your cheek. “It doesn’t take a thousand pokes to get something off my face,”

“Hey, I keep missing because you keep moving,” he says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. You roll your eyes. “C’mere,” 

You lean in a bit more, and he swipes his hand against your cheek. For a moment too long, it remains, delicately holding you as if you might break under increased pressure. He clears his throat and retracts his hand. You feel heat creep up in its place.

“You staying tonight?” you ask. He shrugs. “You know the couch will miss you if you don’t,”

He laughs at this. Your heart swells at the sound. “You just like using me as your personal alarm clock,”

“Not true,” you gasp, clutching your heart in feigned offense. “My couch grows increasingly lonely at night,”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure,”

It occurs to you, in that moment, just how much you want him to kiss you. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did. You’re almost desperate for him to kiss you. The feeling you have for him is akin to idolatry, an offshoot of worship. He’s magnetic, pulls you in in a way you can’t describe. You can see the entire world in his eyes. He is divinity in its most basic form. Whatever religion he’s created, you would gladly follow it until your last breath.

Want consumes you. An insurmountable degree of yearning swallows you, floods your senses, makes you unstable. 

“Why did you resign?” you ask. His expression falters for a moment. “You never explained it to me,”

He doesn’t answer, just swallows thickly. You take in a breath like it might be your last.

You wring your hands. “I’m owed at least that,”

“I thought it would make things easier,” he says. The answer is vague, like you’d expected. It doesn’t answer your questions.

“That’s not an answer, Leon,” you say, frowning. “Can you give me a straight answer, just this once? I don’t care if you lie to me for the rest of my life, but, please, just give me this,”

He stares at you, as if he’s trying to get one last look at you. “I wanted to start over,”

Your brows knit together as you watch him. He’s stiff against the arm of the couch he leans on. His shoulders are square, jaw set, eyes forward. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, you notice.

“Start over?” you repeat.

“With you,” he says, staring into the wall behind you. “I wanted you to know me…differently,”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You hope you’re reading this the right way, because if you’re not, you might just die where you sit. “How did you want me to know you?”

“As a person,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “I wanted you to…like me. Not just see me as a guy that follows you around,”

You smile. “I liked you anyway, Leon,” you say. He flushes.

“I mean,” he stutters. “I mean that…I wanted to be right,”

You don’t know when, but he’s leaned in. You can feel his breath on your lips, floating back against your ears. He’s looking at you through his lashes, all starry eyed and vulnerable. His cheeks are pink, rosy and soft. You want him to kiss you. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like if he did. Goosebumps surface across your skin at the thought, shivering against the flesh like you’d stepped into the cold. You want him to kiss you.

With a shaking breath, you ask, “Right about what?”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand. It slots against the curve of your jaw, just below your ear. You notice that his hands are freezing, but it’s a welcome change in temperature given the heat that resides in your cheeks. You wonder if he can feel the beat of your pulse, hammer strong and rapid against the muscle. You wonder if his would feel the same.

“Leon?” you breathe. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His breath is shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,”

He indulges. He’s soft against you, sugary sweet and easygoing. He breathes you in like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your hands wind into the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, an attempt to fuse into one. It’s a crescendo at the end of a symphony, harmonies and melodies colliding into one final note. Your ears are ringing. It’s a soft collision of warmth and intimacy, lips and hums that finally get to meet. 

A cold hand slips beneath your shirt, soft and delicate against the red hot skin of your waist. You shiver against it. Devotion makes you dizzy as you pull away, breathing like you’ve nearly drowned. You steel yourself against his shoulders. He looks pretty like this, you think, lips kiss swollen and pulling in a grin around his teeth, face reddened with flush and excitement, hair falling into his eyes.

“I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,”

You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins.

“Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #x reader #my fics #m writes

[voonroo]

Twisted Wonderland Mafia AU Introduction

⌐‣TWST MAFIA AU

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This could 100% be expanded on if I actually ever get back into TWST. I'm working on clearing out some old works deep in the depths of my Google Docs and Notes app because I feel kinda bad for disappearing suddenly😋 This is actually from late 2022... Thanks to @justcallmecj for encouraging me to post this again.

The Night Raven District is a district full of criminal groups who will do anything to keep their city to themselves.

There’s the RSA District, which has, for years, been trying to reclaim property from the Night Raven District. No one knows what RSA stands for. However, it is thought to stand for the phrase Recover, Seize, Adjust, as it is the group's job to salvage stolen districts and cities from the unruly.

The Mafia Groups

Heartslabyul

A group of gamblers whose intent is to teach others self-restraint. Most often you will find anyone apart of Heartslabyul at night, or in a casino. There is always a member of Heartslabyul in the city's most popular places for a quick gamble.

A considerably notable pattern to identify one of these members is if they have the symbol of a heart, spade, diamond, or clover painted under or on the eye. The explanation for why it’s so easy to find them is that they don't hide, they aren’t doing anything illegal so they see no need to. Or at least the majority of them. It is effortless to become a part of this clique if you can withstand the harsh rules that come with it.

Savanaclaw

This pack is full of fighters. Svanaclaw does the most around the city pertaining to almost anything physical. Is someone getting a little too close to the district? They’re the first to do something about it. Most will jump at any opportunity to turn something into a challenge.

Numerous people in the group have fought for something or someone. Most likely being unsuccessful, but don’t speak of it. Or else you might be on the news the next morning, for these people aren’t known for their steady temper. To be a part of this club, you have to be physically strong and have vigorous will.

Octavinelle

Largely Octavinelle members are by the coast dealing with outsiders who don’t know any better. Those that aren’t? They oversee a lot of legal issues. Such as digging up dirt on others and using it for their own advantage. They're good with their words, many of which can get just about anyone under their thumb.

The captain of Octavinelle owns a pub near the docks. Though, he is pretty well known to be your typical everyday businessman. These people aren’t always the strongest, nonetheless, don’t get too comfortable. You never know when they’ll make you walk the plank and feed you to the sharks.

Scarabia

This party is one of the lesser-known groups. They are often found in the city shops during the day. You wouldn’t be any the wiser. Because the group is the smallest compared to the others, it’s hard to identify hardly anybody that’s part of the Scarabian folk. They’re onlookers.

It’s said they “help” the other mobs with some inside information. No one knows where they get said information, it is said that there is a particular person that can with just a few words. The leader of the Scarabia team is very in-depth with the local trades, they're able to get anything for a good price.

Pomefiore

Another community that isn’t well known. It’s difficult to get into the prestigious group of Pomefiore. You must be hand-picked by the crown of this cluster. This group is the most out and about in public. You secretly see the members every day.

Evidently, they are remarkably nice to look at and often speak with higher-ups. The director of this group is never seen without other group members especially if they’re ones that he himself, needs to whip into shape. They’re also good at covering their tracks and hunting others down.

Ignihyde

Ignihyde is the least-known group out of the big seven. These people work behind the scenes, in the backgrounds. Either covering up news stories or scrolling the dark web for more stockpiles. It is said that the supervisor of Ignihyde was the cause of a nasty computer virus, putting thousands of electronics out of service.

There is still no known fix to this virus. Or maybe there is, you just have to pay a hefty price. Only those of the best technicians or engineers are even considered to be given a role in this organization.

Diasomania

The most powerful body of the Night Raven District. You’d have to really fuck up to catch even a glimpse of someone from this group.

The boss of this body is fairly notorious. This troop has the strongest defense against just roughly anyone. If there’s ever a fight with Diasomnia in it, they will come out on top. For years this group has kept RSA at bay. No recent members have entered Diasomnia for years, the only way to get in is to have caught the eyes of a certain individual.

Word Count: 803

A/N: BSD MANGA SPOILERS I've raised from the dead like Fyodor in the latest bsd chapter

#twst #disney twst #twst heartslabyul #twst savanaclaw #twst octavinelle #twst scarabia #twst pomefiore #twst ignihyde #twst diasomnia #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #voonroo

[dystopicjumpsuit]

It's not Sunday but I'm sharing my OC Draig anyway.

Charming, funny, and dodgy as hell, Draig has not paid for a drink in fifteen years. He’s the sort of person who will sit next to you in the Corrie drunk tank and laugh about how you ended up there while you wait for Mic to come bail you both out.

In his defense, it was a great story. Art by me 🩵

More info below the cut! Content warning for non-detailed violence and eye injury/loss.

Overview

Name: Draig Birth year/age: 51 BBY (32 at end of the Clone Wars) Species: Zabrak Pronouns: he/him Orientation: bi/pan Home planet: Oba Diah Current location: Coruscant Occupation: “acquisitions” contract specialist (AKA thief for hire); journeyman pain in the ass; professional menace to society and underpants across the galaxy Affiliation: Bounty Hunters’ Guild Alignment: chaotic neutral Family: Oisin (father); Epha (mother, deceased); Mic and Branna Dhorhil (family of the heart)

Physical characteristics

Height: 6’/182 cm without the horns, but he counts them, so he tells everyone 6’2”/188 cm. Mic considers this ridiculous. Eyes: brown, one cybernetic gray Hair: bald Skin: brown Tattoos/piercings/identifying marks: traditional Zabrak facial tattoos; various facial and ear piercings

Personal history: 

Oisin and Epha had given up on having children when Draig came along. Oisin was 48, Epha was 41, and they were ecstatic to finally have the child they had so desperately wanted. Draig was their only child, and they adored him. The family lived happily for fourteen years, until Epha suddenly passed away from a massive stroke just before Draig started secondary school. Oisin was devastated, and Draig, in addition to his own grief, felt the weight of the galaxy on his young shoulders as he watched his father spiral.

When Draig started secondary school a couple months later, he was targeted by an older bully. Small for his age, and still reeling from the loss of his mother, Draig seemed like an easy target—at least, until Mic Dhorhil intervened when nobody else would. Draig and Mic both got suspended. Draig was distraught: the thought of adding to his father’s stress when Oisin was already struggling so much seemed like the end of the world to the young Zabrak. Mic took him to his own home instead so they could try to figure things out.

Mic’s mom Branna was home from work, and she convinced Draig that everything would be all right. She patched up both of the boys, got them a snack, and then commed Oisin to explain things diplomatically. From that point on, Draig and Mic were inseparable. The boys were best friends, and Draig imprinted like a baby duck on Branna as she stepped up to help him and Oisin through the loss of Epha. 

The two families became so close that they stopped considering themselves separate families at all, which was why, when Oisin fell ill, Mic didn’t hesitate to go along with Draig’s plan to steal the medication he needed from the Pyke syndicate. Their plan was a simple smash and grab, and somehow, they made it out alive—barely. Draig’s adrenaline rush from his first heist had barely faded when the bounty hunter showed up at the Dhorhils’ house.

Mic, Draig, and Branna fought back fiercely, but the hunter managed to slash Draig across the face before Branna killed the man with his own vibroblade. There was nothing to be done to save Draig’s eye. They didn’t even have time to apply bacta until they were already aboard the shuttle Branna stole from the Oba Diah City spaceport, in hyperspace on the way to Coruscant. 

The family disappeared into the Coruscant underworld until Branna was able to smooth things over with the Pykes. Oisin, having made a full recovery, opened a mechanic shop in the lower levels, while Mic started working in bars and restaurants and Branna took a position with Coruscant Public Transit. Draig, on the other hand, didn’t find the transition to Coruscant easy or straightforward, and he drifted into rougher crowds. 

Having gotten a taste for adrenaline during the Pyke heist, he started to engage in petty theft, which he rationalized as helping out while finances were tight. Before long, he discovered that he didn’t just like the challenge and the rush of stealing: he was good at it. Really good. He started honing his skills, seeking out larger, more valuable, and more difficult targets, until one day, almost without realizing it, he had become one of the best thieves in the business. Unsurprisingly, this put a target on his back—not only from the Coruscant Security Force, but also from other thieves looking to make a name for themselves.

Out of self-preservation, Draig decided to join the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, where he offered his services to anyone who could pay. He specialized in what the Guild diplomatically called “acquisitions,” but the truth was that he would do just about anything for the right price.

Anything except turn on his family.

Personality:

Charming and irresponsible irresistible. There’s not much in life that Draig takes seriously. He’s laid-back and easy-going to a fault, except when it comes to his work. He’s happy to go with the flow and let other people take the lead—especially Mic. His adrenaline-junkie tendencies cause him to sometimes take unnecessary risks, though he would never intentionally put someone else in danger.

He is uncompromisingly loyal to an incredibly small circle of people. If you are in that circle, he’ll do anything for you, no questions asked, regardless of the legal, ethical, or moral implications. Outside that circle, though, he doesn’t get attached. He’s friendly and approachable, but he’s one of those people who you realize after you’ve talked to him for weeks that he’s never shared anything about himself beyond the most superficial details. You were just distracted by how much he made you laugh and how much fun you had together to realize that he never let you get close to him.

In relationships, this manifests in a string of short-term flings where both/all parties agree to part ways cordially within a few weeks at maximum. He generally goes into a relationship with the understanding and expectation that it will stay casual and light, and he’s up front with his partners about that. Despite that, there have been times when things have gotten complicated and messy, which is why he now refuses to allow anyone outside his family to know where he lives.

Draig completely lacks Mic’s intensity, which is ironic, given that of the two, Draig is far more likely to break someone’s heart. Again, he’d never do it on purpose, but it’s a little too easy to fall for him when he has made a career of not falling. Ever. Which is why it’s the end of the kriffing galaxy the first time he catches feelings.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod

#star wars oc #original character #oc: draig #star wars #the clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit draws #dystopicjumpsuit writes

[armpirate]

A friend's help (Part 2) || JJK

Part 1

pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader || Best friends, friends to lovers

w.c.: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, public sex, protected sex, vaginal penetration, teasing

Summary: After what happened the last time you were together, you've avoided him. Or, more like, you've been avoiding the rejection. Although maybe it'd have been better to talk things out earlier, and make things clear sooner.

After what happened the other day, you for sure knew something switched between you two. You were too lost in the way his dick filled you with every thrust, or the way his digits tightened around your throat in a dominant way to make you aware how he had full control over you, to think about the consequences that would come after that morning. Actually, the consequences were already there two minutes after you both came, with your sweaty and passed out bodies trying to recompose from everything that had happened. As if you two were finally aware of everything that had happened. 

And maybe you didn’t make it any better when, instead of staying and seeing how things went, you ran away as soon as he went to the bathroom. You disappeared as if you had committed one of the worst crimes and you didn’t want to deal with the consequences. But they were there on every text, every call… Jungkook even asked Tae and Jimin to reach out to you in case they saw you around college, just to let you know he wanted to speak with you. 

But you didn’t want to speak to him. The reason why was still unclear. You didn’t know if it was embarrassment from what happened, multiplied per two after you ran away. or maybe you were scared. You didn’t want to get dumped. Or more like you weren’t ready to hear him say it was a mistake, and that you two should try to forget it and go back to normal -which, knowing Jungkook, was the closest answer to reality. He treasured your friendship, and that combined with how much he wanted to talk things out to keep it that way, made you scared of the next words you’d exchange. Because maybe you weren’t ready to be rejected again, or to be called a mistake.

Sooner or later you’d have to deal with him anyway. 

You sighed while trying to focus on the characters in the book. Trying to study in your shared apartment was crazy because of your roommate. But, at that point, the noise wasn’t only from the outside. Your head kept blurting his name every two words you read. It didn’t matter if you were in the library, in class, or in the fucking desert trying to get some peace. Your mind wasn’t able to focus on the concepts you needed to memorize, and it was frustrating you awfully. 

Clicking your tongue, you threw your pen over the book and stretched your leg, hitting the chair in front of you accidentally. Your whole body reacted to the several hushes and annoyed looks after the sound it made, sitting straight properly and focusing your eyes back in the book as you apologized. 

You didn’t even bother at the -again- scratchy sound of the chair in front of you -and that earned more complaints from those around you-, basically because it wasn’t you who moved it that time. At least you didn’t care until you saw a familiar inked arm through the corner of your eye. You should’ve guessed it was Jungkook, because only him would be dumb enough to drag the chair instead of pulling it by raising it slightly from the ground in a library. Despite being aware of his presence, you still pretended he wasn’t there. You were too bad at hiding your feelings though. Even if you were fighting yourself, your eyes still flew over him, as carefully as possible, while trying to hide your face behind your hand and hair. 

“Y/n, please” he finally called you in a whisper, when your eyes clumsily met his in one of those scans. “We need to talk”. 

You knew what you had to talk about wouldn’t be good. He was getting the field ready to dump you. And, honestly, you didn’t need to. 

Sighing, knowing you’d have no escape from that conversation, you stood up and held the book you were trying to read to put it back on its shelf. And Jungkook followed right behind you, still willing to speak to you even if it got him to corner you in this library and not letting you go until you made things clear.

It had been only a few days since you disappeared, but it honestly felt like weeks for him. He was so used to having you around almost daily, that going four days without seeing you felt like a burden.

He also didn’t understand why you ran away, or why you were avoiding him. At first, he thought that what happened between you two was amazing. He swore he never had that kind of complicity with someone ever in his life. Yet you were running away, and he was chasing after you like the big dumb ass he was. Because he wanted an answer, he wanted to work things out. He wanted to understand a lot of things. And although he hadn't done anythything to hurt you or make you mad, he still asked: “Did I do something wrong?”.

The guilt in his voice got you holding back a lot of your insecurities. He didn’t do anything wrong. He wouldn’t ever do anything wrong. And maybe that was the reason you were avoiding him. Because even if he regretted that morning, he’d never try to hurt you while letting you know, which would only make you fall harder for him. Because what’s more attractive in a man than consideration and care? And Jungkook was all that personified.

“You didn’t do anything wrong” you turned to him.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” his eyes were looking for an answer in your face, because he had known you long enough to know it’d take you a lot to word your thoughts.

And there you were again. Ready to play the role of the bad friend, just like you were used to, only so he wouldn’t be the one hurting you, you told the biggest lie you’d ever told anyone. “What happened the other day was a mistake” and of course you didn’t feel that way, but it was better you saying it than him. “I just needed some time to think, and I guess it’d be better if we set some space between us for a while”. 

While Jungkook was processing your words, you took your chance to run away again. Picking all of your things from the table to find somewhere else to study. Maybe an empty classroom could work. But obviously there wasn’t a single classroom open that day, you’d just have to wander around the campus until you found a calm spot where to study. 

Or that was the main plan before you were dragged towards one of the doors outside. Jungkook’s grip wasn’t hurtful, but it was harsh enough so you wouldn’t try to sneak away again. Finally setting you free as he closed the door behind him, eyes meeting you again. 

He took you to your safe corner. Since it was outside, at the back of the campus, no one ever came around that place. How you discovered it was still inexplicable, but that's another story. 

The fact that, out of all the places, he chose to take you there, where your only escape was the door you two had just crossed, blocked any type of attempt to avoid the conversation. 

Oh, he really wanted to speak. 

“A mistake? Seriously?” both of his hands were on his hips “That’s what you really think?”.

“Yeah” you grabbed tighter onto the band of your bag. “Isn’t that what you think, too?”. When it came to catching hints, you weren’t the brightest. Because not only Jungkook insisted on talking with you, he bothered to chase after you and corner you so he’d get an explanation to your words.

Of course he didn’t regret it. But maybe you also needed to hear it from him. 

“No” he seemed horrified to ever think of it that way. “Fuck, no. Why the fuck would I regret it?”.

Actually, you had come up with many reasons as to why he’d regret it, but in that moment you went blank. Because what happened was amazing, and there was no way anyone in their sane mind would think of regretting it. 

“What happened the other day was awesome” he assured you, “You’re awesome”. He tilted his head, finding your lips way too tempting even in that situation. “You really didn’t like it? you regret it?”.

Time to be honest.

“I loved it” you sighed, “but…”.

Your heart raced as he stepped closer to you. It was like you said the right words to switch the vibes, and the conversation per se. “But?” he insisted, cornering you between his body and the wall.

“But our friendship…” you started with your voice going weaker with each letter.

“Fuck the friendship” and those were his last words before his lips crashed against yours without a previous warning. 

His tongue was everywhere, his hands were everywhere, as if he had been starving for weeks and he was finally getting his treat. He pinned you against the wall, pressing his body tighter against yours as if he really wanted to make sure you wouldn’t run. His tight grip on your hips also made it impossible for you to even try to move away. Not like you were thinking of doing it either. 

“Four fucking days” he muttered between kisses. “You have no idea how crazy I’ve gone these four days”.

And so did you. Going nuts trying to guess were his thoughts and feelings laid regarding this topic. Just to find out you’d been overthinking it for no reason. 

You gasped at the sudden touch of his cold hands on the warm skin of your waist under your sweater. But soon your body would get used to them, or maybe it was too distracted on other things, like how both of your tongues swirled together before your lips were linked again. 

You thought that was only a waning of what was yet to come later that day, but how wrong you were. Jungkook’s hands sneaked all the way down your sweater, reaching your covered tits. You held onto his shoulders and nape, as if there was a way you could get any closer. 

There was.

You raised one of your legs to his waist, both of your clothed crotches grinding against one another, getting both of you ready with every move of your hips. He pinched your nipples over your bra, as a warning for the bulge that was forming under his pants and that you were humping against. 

“I’ll have to fuck you here if you don’t stop doing that” his lips made their way down your jaw.

“Then fuck me here” you dared him. 

For any other person, it’d have come up as a joke. But not for Jungkook, who was getting ready to fuck your brains out, even if both of you were risking getting caught. He slid his hand between your bodies, down your skirt, to palm your already wet clothed pussy. Your panties moved easily under his fingers, with all the slickness coming out of you, and that made his cock twitch inside his pants. Knowing how bad you wanted him was driving him crazy. 

Sliding your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the chilly weather, he slid one of his fingers through your drenched slit, spreading your wetness over your pussy. “Hmm… Do you need my cock here?” he teased you, tapping the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Uh huh” you were only able to say.

“You deserve it?” he questioned, while unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’m not sure if you deserve to be fucked after ignoring me for four days” you whimpered when he moved his fingers away from you.

And while he was saying all that, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, because he was looking for a condom in his wallet, throwing it to the floor carelessly to wrap himself with the latex.

“It won’t happen again. Ple…” that word got stuck in your throat when he thrusted in you without a previous warning. 

He started moving in and out slowly. One hand behind your knee to keep your leg up around his waist, while the other hand grabbed your neck, making sure you kept eye contact every time your hips met. That movement was tortuous. Not only for you, for him, too. He was battling every single need to fuck you rough against the wall, holding himself back every time your walls hugged him tight. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he groaned, bending over you to suck and kiss your neck, balls deep in you.

He was being so unfair, making you wait for his good moves, while teasing a sensitive spot in your neck. He didn’t care about your needy hands on his back and waist, or your almost muted whimpers, or your grinds, or how your pussy clenched tight around him. After what happened the last time, he wanted to enjoy every single second he spent inside of you, even if that meant skipping classes -or even being caught. 

“Kook, please” your fingers dug in his hair, pulling him closer just to feel his tongue on your earlobe again. 

“Will you run away again?” he whispered.

“I won’t. I promise” how needy you were was so easy to tell by the tone of your voice. And that made him proud, making his cock twitch deep inside you. 

“Not more running, Y/n” he bit your neck, “and not more depriving me from fucking you”.

Your desperate nods settled the start for everything. Pleased with your answer, he lifted your body, wrapping his waist with both of your thighs before he pinned you against the wall. He attacked your lips first, linking your mouths for a sloppy kiss that would get his lips humid enough with both of your spit to go down to your tits, raising your sweater over them and folding the cups of your bra so he could suck on your already hard buttons. 

His warm and wet mouth closing around your nipple made your head fall back instantly, finally being aware of the several windows on the upper floors. It’d only take someone to take a look outside to find you in that position. But before you could even worry about it, Jungkook’s hips started rocking against yours, his cock coming in and out faster with each thrust. 

You were crazy for ever thinking of giving it up on this feeling, or on Jungkook in general. The way he looked at you, the depth of his kisses, the promises in each one of his words… You wanted to feel this fuck out forever. 

Faster than letting your gasps turn into moans, you were the one who pulled Jungkook in for another kiss, drowning all of your moans with his tongue. He knew how dangerous it was to be caught there, he knew how much you two were risking, but he wanted to hear you again like the last time. No, he needed to hear how good he was making you feel. 

Breaking the kiss, he started talking again “I love to hear you, babe. Let me know how good my cock feels” he bit your chin. “Moan a bit for me”.

But that was too much. 

Seeing you weren’t going to give in to his petition, Jungkook angled his hips to a particular spot, rubbing the tip of his cock against a spot that would make you tighten your legs around him and hold onto him for dear life as he fucked you in that position. Desperate to shut the incoming sounds, you tried to kiss Jungkook again, but every single time he moved his head back. 

Pressing your lips together in an ill attempt to keep yourself quiet, you only encouraged him to go faster. And that was when the first low moan came out, joining the several body claps of your bodies every time you collided against one another. Jungkook smiled victorious, fucking into you, drunk with the feeling and feeling dizzy by the sounds you made. 

“Kook” you warned him, throwing your head back.

“Me, too, babe” he hid his face on the crook of your neck, keeping the pace and rhythm, it only took you a few more thrusts to finally collapse in his arms, drowning the guttural moan at the back of your throat. And a few thrusts later, Jungkok joined you, biting the skin of your shoulder while he rocked his hips slower every time. 

You hugged each other for a few minutes, trying to recompose from your high, while thinking through what all of this could mean to your friendship. 

“I think it’s fair to assume our friendship is doomed” he joked, making you giggle.

“Good thing is that I don’t really care” he rubbed his thumbs over the exposed skin on your thighs, spreading soft kisses across your shoulder and neck. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he finally looked at you, breath still a bit shaky.

“That I want something more” you were brave enough to say out loud what you’d been thinking all of those years since you met him, and acted like you were fine with being just one of his buddies.

“Well,” he sighed “good thing is that I want the exact same” those final words made you smile big, before he leaned for another kiss.

#jjkvibe #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #one shot #reader insert

[wolven91]

Spa Day

Jonathan pushed his hand into the thick white pelt of Garsh's arm and luxuriated in its softness. He pushed his arm forwards and his hand disappeared into the pelt, then his wrist, then part of his forearm, before his palm touched something solid and hot.

The ursidain's fur was dense and thick, if the human had to guess, it was near enough a foot deep. The outer layer was rough and coarse to the touch, creating a sort of barrier to the outside environment. When he pushed his fingers deeper, the soft under pelt felt like silk to his hands, but the heat that was trapped beneath was also instantly transferred to the man's hand. It wasn't a surprise that her hidden flesh felt hot to the touch, ursidains ran far hotter than a human ever did.

The human and the ursidain were both sitting on a bench in the public space of the station. It had been a long day and the two of them, after leaving work, had immediately needed to just sit and take time to decompress. It all honesty it had been a busy week, they were both exhausted and finally had a few days to themselves. The busy period was over.

As Jonathan lovingly combed his fingers through the fur on her arm, he noted the coarse fur and the knots he came across on a regular basis. Garsh had her eyes closed and head leant back as she lay slumped on the bench itself. Jonathan watched her for a time, noting the clenched jaw and the effort she was making to slow her breathing, taking in air through her mouth and exhaling through her nose. A technique he himself had taught her.

"Fancy a 'spa-day'?" He asked, breaking the silence, unaware if 'spas' were a thing up here.

She frowned, before the 'polar bear' like ursidain lifted her head to turn to him and fix him with a quizzical expression.

"The heck's a 'spa-day'?"

Jonathan gave a single bark of a laugh before sobering when she remained confused rather than revealing her joke.

"How about I book it all and we go together?"

--- 0 ---

Turns out, the aliens did 'do' spas.

The following day, the pair pulled off the station's motorway and pulled up in a vehicle bay using the 'hover-bike' that Garsh had favoured over the sealed 'cars' that the majority of the citizens preferred. Garsh had given up trying to get Jonathan to call the vehicles by the correct terms, it seemed another strange quirk of 'her' human.

Humans seem to have their own names for things and enjoyed mildly annoying everyone by using their terms over the correct ones often deliberately using terms that the translators would hiccup over rather than their correct names.

The human and the ursidain entered into the 'spa' and the atmosphere changed from the busy, cavernous station, to a warm, welcoming room with a smiling male taurian behind a desk. He ducked his head in a graceful bow, until they stood before him at the counter.

Jonathan tiptoed up to peer over the desk and confirmed his details with the receptionist who immediately welcomed to duo into the deeper parts of the building with a sweep of his arm. Garsh had no idea as to what to expect from the spa. It wasn't something that people like her did.

She was an engineer, getting greasy or dirty was part and parcel of the job. What was the point of spending hard earned credits on getting clean when she could do it with a coarse brush and bad language at home?

When she was told to strip and given an oversized fluffy robe, the ursidain's eyes bugged out of her head and flitted across to Jonathan who merely laughed and disappeared behind a curtain. To her left was a similar curtain, which she peered around to reveal a changing room like one would find in a clothes shop. Turning the fluffy robe over in her hands she found that hers had no sleeves, but when she saw Jonathan again, his robe covered more of his whole body.

Another pair of diminutive taurians, at least to Garsh, ushered them through to a new room. This one was full of hot mist and the pair were subjected to a hot bath.

The bubbling water, but not boiling, roiled and undulated with a pleasant scent curling up from it in the steam. At first Garsh was concerned about whether it was wise to go anywhere near something that hot without safety measures, especially with such precious cargo like a human around. Jonathan instead simply shed his robe and stepped down into the giant boiling cauldron, much to Garsh's shock and horror!

However, instead of all the thrashing and screaming she expected, the human merely gingerly settled himself into the water, 'oohing' and aahing'. The ursidain frowned and with very little grace, 'plunked' a foot into the water to test the heat. Hot, but not uncomfortable. Copying the human, she tossed the robe and with all the grace expected of an ursidain, tumbled into the bubbling pool as her foot didn't find a solid floor past the shelf Jonathan was using. A surge of water partially lifted and displaced the human who cackled at the display, glancing over to his robe which had been already retrieved and placed onto a raised bench by an unseen assistant alongside hers.

The overflow of water displaced by the ursidain went into wide drains that surrounded the hot tub. Jonathan suspected any ursidain sitting in the pool would cause the same tidal wave, so considered it wise planning on the architect's part. The constant stream of bubbles provided a massage to the pair of them as the streams of air rippled through Garsh's fur and over Jonathan's skin. For a time, she sat with her arms in her lap, unsure on what she was supposed to do now.

Garsh looked over to Jonathan, wondering what the next part was. The human merely smiled and said that she should try counting her breaths into she got to a hundred. She got to twenty-six before Jonathan sighed and scooted down into the water. Ursidains were roughly twice the height of a human, with the design of the pool, she was sat on a lower bench that was beneath the roiling surface. It was one of the few times that she and Jonathan were almost eye level. The gentle giant cared deeply for the human and only wanted what was best of him and to make him happy. The only reason she had agreed to this whole thing was because he had said it would make him happy...

Seemingly sensing her gaze, he opened a single eye, smiled and scooted along the shelf until they were sat touching arm to arm. She leant back and stretched out, placing an arm at Jonathan's back. With this natural feeling action, it was her turn to sigh as a wave of contentment washed over her and the ursidain finally 'got' spa days, scooting down into the water.

Garsh began to notice painful bunches of muscles across her body that she hadn't realised was there. Tensed legs, arms or even her shoulders began to uncoil. She rolled her shoulders as she hesitantly allowed her tense muscles to relax. It was an alien sensation, but far from a horrible one. She found her lungs releasing a pent-up breath she hadn't realised she was holding on to.

The two lay against one another for a time, listening to the sound of the water before a quiet noise of another set of two employees entering the room with a tray of bottles and brushes. Every furred and even scaled being up in the stars had a grooming kit. A series of clippers and brushes held in personal kits of varying styles was owned by everyone bar the humans. The kit's these attendants unrolled however, were of the finest quality, appearing as gold with shining silver of metal along the edges of the blades and scissors.

The attendants coaxed the pair from the waters, Garsh averting her gaze from the human's body before laying down on the leather gurneys that had been rolled out for them.

What followed was a significant shampooing, conditioning, and scrubbing of Garsh's pelt in such a manner that she couldn't recall the last time it had had such attention given to it. Of course, she washed herself, kept clean and gave it a brush when needed, but the attentions she was being given was unlike anything she had experienced before. The human on the contrary was both easier and harder for the delicate taurian to deal with. Instead resorting to a body massage to burn time waiting for his ursidain partner to be dealt with.

When Garsh was finally released and the pair were told they could sit up and join the attendants in the next room at their leisure, Jonathan's jaw dropped open. Garsh was practically glowing, her fur, usually a creamy white, was now almost sparkling in the dull lights of the spa, it rippled and flowed easily with every movement.

Garsh pulled the curtain to the next room to one side, allowing Jonathan through. Now there were two seats, the human was dwarfed by it, whereas it was 'just right' for Garsh. What happened next was a pedicure and a manicure. The taurians once more were stumped by the dull 'claws' of the human, whereas they knew exactly what they were doing with the ursidain. Jonathan opened one eye to see them applying what looked like nail polish onto his nails and opened his mouth to protest.

Until he noticed the male taurians working on him, who all sported various colours across their claws. He gave a mental shrug and laid back. There were no humans on the station, he doubted any alien that knew what was 'normal' for a human and what wasn't. Plus, it felt nice to be pampered...

The rest of the day was a series of events, each focused on another part of their bodies. Claws, ears, arms, and legs.

When they finally stepped out of the building, both of them practically glowed.

Climbing onto the 'bike' again, Garsh ensured that Jonathan was wearing his helmet, before wrapping a protective paw around his front and pulled him backwards so his back was against her front. Only now, instead of compressing the fur of her front, he instead partially disappeared into the luscious thick pelt. His world was outlined with the long white fibres of her fur and his own body heat was reflected back at his back immediately.

"So, when is it my turn to drive this thing?" He asked playfully.

A rumbling chuckle gave him a taste of what an earthquake felt like.

"On this deathtrap? Not a chance. Now hold on, we're setting off."

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #ursidain #bear

[shesnotaposer]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 || 𝐧. 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

pairing: natasha romanoff x female reader

warning: minors dni (it's not like i can stop you. but keep in mind that you're responsible for your media consumption so be responsible), smut, roles; dom!natasha & brattysub!reader, semi-public sex, curse words, teasing, kinks; mommy kink | very slight praise kink | very slight degradation kink | choking kink | hair pulling, rough, large age gap; natasha is 37 and reader is 22

summary: you haven't seen natasha in a week. after being forbidden to relieve yourself during her time away, you refuse to give her the satisfaction of doing what she wants with you without a little show

a/n: NOBODY REMEMBERS ME, I KNOW. but who 9 months later, i'm back! i got pregnant and had to give birth. it was hard, it hurts, except it doesn't because i'm playing. but anyways, i've missed everyone, i'm going to write a lot of angst after this because why not

tony likes to throw parties. he used to throw extravagant monthly parties in the compound until the security of the place failed him, and the compound was infiltrated by a minor agency under hydra. ironic, isn't it? you'd think the avengers would have the best security in the world, especially with the literal owner of stark industries being your leader, but nope. when you live in a giant building full of superheroes, you forget you even need security. or that you need a strong one.

so instead of extravagant monthly parties (that the entire team against after the whole infiltration thing), tony now throws an "avenger weekend out" every month where he arranges something for the avengers to do together.

just 2 months ago, he booked the entire team a trip to dubai that you didn't really get to see much of. you and your girlfriend were quick to disappear into your hotel room and you didn't come out until the weekend was over. and by then you were limping.

this time, it's a trip to vegas.

he booked a fancy restaurant for the whole team. he gave tonight a little twist by sending stylists to everyone's rooms so everyone can look their best (the entire team knows that he only did that to stop bucky from wearing a t-shirt to fancy places but who is anyone to complain).

after a long time of trying to pick an outfit—which you had racks and racks of in your room courtesy of tony and his money—you've finally settled on a beautiful black silk dress with your cleavage propped up and exposed, you hair in an updo, and your body in the arms of someone who is not your girlfriend.

you had just arrived—fashionably late as always, and then you saw natasha. you knew she was coming. she was on a mission and had to come separately, dropping by at the compound first when you had already left.

she was gone for a week. and the entire time, you had been nothing but a good girl. you didn't touch yourself. you didn't send her a naughty picture. you didn't look at porn. because no matter how much you begged her to let you, she wouldn't. she knew how frustrated you are. but you don't want to give her the satisfaction of just doing everything she wants with you when she didn't let you do what you want. at least, not yet. you like your little games and your little shows.

so when a flare of jealousy swirls within her green eyes after you'd entered in the arms of wanda maximoff, making sure to greet everyone with a kiss on the cheek as the men especially welcomed you standing up, you knew she doesn't know your play. you sat across from her, not beside, and you can feel everyone's eyes wander from you and onto the empty spot next to natasha.

you only ever took it as far as sending her a naughty picture during a meeting. or calling her, moaning through the phone, when you know she's with the team. you never walked in the arms of someone else, or denied her of at least sitting close to you. not until now.

"if you're gonna be fashionably late, then might as well look like y/n, sam." tony quips, breaking off the awkward moment of when you met her eyes as you set your little purse on wanda's lap.

tony started the evening off by coming after cap. steve of course answered him all defensively and that started a whole thing between them. peter was annoying bucky, and sam was there laughing. pietro is nodding along something vision is saying. and thor is just asking for more beer. clint and bruce are having an awkward conversation—they're trying. they're not the closest, but they're trying. when you and nat are having a thing (that clint can always tell when you are), and tony is busy calling out everyone, clint and bruce are left trying to find something to talk about. and right now, they've settled on the temperature of their steaks.

you, on the other hand, spent the entire evening staring directly at the woman in front of you. she never took her eyes off of you either. she followed your eyes even as it glances over tony, or looks a second too long at wanda's.

you were in wanda's arms looking at natasha the entire time. you were looking at her while you laugh at a joke wanda told you, you were looking at her when your head falls on wanda's shoulder for a second, you were looking at her as you whisper something in wanda's ear.

you didn't think that the "anger makes you turn red" was a real thing—it's easier to think it makes you turn green—until you saw natasha's face, all red, the veins in her neck were popping out, and her lips were trembling with her jaw clenched. you know nobody noticed besides you. nobody in this world can memorize her skin tone enough to see when it changes. to everyone, the glare that was sharp enough to cut through you was just how she normally looks. if anything, she's merely staring at you. but you can see through her. you've memorized her features, her face, her, so expertly that you can tell even the smallest micro changes in her expression. and right now, she's angry.

so you take that as your leave.

you let her cool off.

you stood up, you looked over at wanda and smiled at the way her hands trailed down your back, asking if you needed her to accompany you to which you shook your head.

you walked with confidence, with ease, fully knowing that you'd be getting what you want when you get home. you pushed through the door of the restroom, the marble tiled, rough lighted room that someone suddenly grabbed you in by the elbow to.

you immediately knew who it was by her scent alone. she passed through you at the door and quickly grabbed you before you could even do anything.

"natasha, what—"

she kissed you. she put an arm on your back and she pulled your body until you're pressed against her with no space left to breath. and then she kissed you. she kissed you aggressively. she kissed you until you had no choice but to surrender the very little power you had over her.

the hand that's been holding the door the entire time found the back of your head. she pulled you up and pushed your back hard against the wall and she kissed you harder. you didn't like losing. so you kissed her with as much aggression, as much strength, if not more, as she did you.

your hands travelled up to her hair. you didn't care if it was styled to perfection. you intertwined your fingers with her red locks, and you twisted your legs around her body so you can pull her impossibly closer.

your kiss became passionate. but she still kissed you with the power she knows she has over you, and you kissed her with the resistance you know only you can give her.

you were resisting her advances. you were moving your head so she can't fully do what she wants, so she can't kiss you the way she wants to and only the way you want to.

her hand went to hold your jaw. she held you in place, she pushed a tongue in between your lips which you were quick to resist by pulling away. she wasn't enjoying it. her jaw was clenched, and her eyes were narrowed by almost an unnoticeable bit.

you smiled.

you smiled in the way that irritated her most. "i think, you need to start being patient." you said, grabbing her by the wrist. her eyes never left yours as you pulled her hand down from your jaw to slowly, gently, lightly trail the center of your body.

you lifted your chin to what the wall behind you allowed when her hand reached the gap between your covered breasts. and when it reached your stomach, you made sure to roll your eyes in the way that you knew made her crazy. and then you pushed your hands between your two bodies so it reaches your wet core. you didn't let her touch. you felt her fingers extend in an attempt to reach it, but you held it far enough so she can only feel how warm you were without feeling you.

you made sure not to look at her. you closed your eyes, and you let your chest rise, and your mouth open slightly. it was as if you were playing with a sex toy. like you were holding a vibrator and teasing yourself with it.

the very little power you had over her, is from the obsession she has with you, with your body, with your entirety. and she knew it damn well. but she couldn't do anything about it. because it was the way your back arched when you finally let her touch, controlling how long it stays, or how hard she pressed, that keeps her going. it riles her up.

you made her fall into an obsession she can never get out of. she was addicted to you.

that show that you play for her, it intoxicates her. it pulls her. it lets her see how much power she has to take back. how much control she has to force back from you. she likes the chase. the games. she likes knowing that after your little episode, she'll get to do whatever she wants, and frankly, you like that too.

so when you let her fingers press a little harder on your swollen bud, and you moaned, she flipped you. she flipped you so quickly that you didn't realize your front was against the wall until she carried you by the stomach and bent you over the sink.

she finally had all the freedom in the world to touch the pussy she was so wrongfully denied of. she made you spread your legs. and then her fingers danced on your core. she pressed on every part of you until you were grinding on her. "natasha, don't—" you breathed, "don't tease me." you were trying to stay in control. to tell her what to do. but she wasn't having it. you had you time, your fun.

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. she lowered her body, and pressed it hard against your own. her other hand tucks a portion of your hair behind your ear so it's not covering your eyes.

"i think, you need to learn to be patient, dear." she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the door. you couldn't move. the weight of her body held you in place. but you forced your hand to find the back of her head. you resisted the moans. you resisted the uncontrollable urge to grind against her arm by forcing yourself still.

"nat, the door." you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy. with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her palm covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were at.

"you should've thought about that before your little stunt back there, don't you think?" she growls. you could feel the tears forming in your eyes as your inhibitions slowly faded away.

the door. anybody can walk in on you at any moment. they will see you being fucked on top of the counter. they're going to see what slut this avenger is. but you can't stop grinding on her hand. the mere thought of someone seeing you being fucked out makes you grind even harder until her palm leaves your clothed pussy, and lands hard on your covered ass.

"mommy doesn't like naughty girls. you know that, right?" she slaps you again. and then again. and then again.

that had more tears running down your face. you hadn't realize that she wasn't on top of you anymore until she pulls your hair back even further so you can see yourself in the mirror.

you left the hotel with the reddest lipstick that's now smudged all over your lower face, and such an evenly drawn eyeliner that's now running down your cheeks. your hair that's been put up into an elegant updo, is now undone and held in a handful in natasha's hands. and you, moaning and panting and crying and grinding against her for every slap she lands on your now bare ass, look like a pathetic whore.

"didn't i tell you to be patient?"

natasha pushed herself against you, pressing down on your body while pulling your hair as far as your body allowed. you can see her on the mirror, you can feel her bulge against your cunt. and you couldn't help but grind against her dress, fully knowing the juices you'll be leaving on it, but frankly you couldn't care less.

her hair is messily falling over her shoulder now. and her lipstick is smudged against her chin. you loved the strands of hair that hung over the side of her head. and the way her head tilts in pride as she watches you writhing under her, chasing a high from the very little friction you get from grinding against her.

"please, i just need you to fuck me..." you cried. "please, nat..."

her eyebrows pinch almost in insincere pity. "now, is that a way to talk to your mommy?"

"mommy, please..."

she made you sit on the counter, never letting go of the grip she had on your hair. you were panting. and huffing. you were like a puppy in heat as you face her with legs all spread out on top of the restroom sink. you presented her with the cunt that only she gets to touch. the pussy that she's claimed.

her eyes softened for a moment when she comes as close as the counter gave her the space to. her other hand falls on your waist, while the other tugs at your hair so your faces are just an inch apart. she looked concerned, she looked like she was about to give into what you want. but then she doesn't.

"do you really think bad girls deserve mommy's dick?" she says, and suddenly her hand's on your neck, while the other finally makes contact with your cunt, pushing your lace underwear to the side. "should i really fuck you?"

your hips grinded harder against her fingers especially when she slammed two fingers into you. "god, yes mommy. please fuck me."

her grip on your neck tightens and she pushes you harder so your head hits the mirrors. "after your little stunt? flirting with wanda?" she didn't sound as taunting as you knew she wanted to sound like. instead, she sounded angry. and with the way she's restricting your airways, and the way she's slamming unforgivingly against your pussy, you knew she was angry.

"'m sorry mommy. will never happen again." that's a lie. it will happen again. but you need her. you need her. her fingers aren't enough. you wanted her to stretch you out. you wanted to feel her against every part of your pussy.

"right..." she says. "who do you belong to, sweetheart?" her grip tightens even more when she adds another finger and your hips jolts up as your eyes roll impossibly further back into your head. you were screaming her name. chanting it over and over again until her grip tightens even more. "quickly, sweetheart. i can hear someone coming."

you couldn't breath. your hand takes grasp of her wrist, but it wasn't to stop her hand from gripping your neck. you couldn't care less about air when she just added the last of her four fingers while her thumb circles your clit. you were chasing your high. you wanted this so badly. the way she was reaching spots, rubbing against parts you didn't even know existed. you were losing your mind. you couldn't breath, you couldn't think. your mind was blank, and it might be that you're about to pass out that you start seeing stars, but if you were to die right at this very moment, you're happy to have this as your last memory.

"who do you belong to?"

you grinded even harder, your hips were writhing against the fingers that only increased in pace. you were hazy. you were a moaning mess. and right at the very last second when you can feel yourself slipping away in pure ecstasy and an incredibly limited amount of air, you were able to mutter, "you..."

and then she lets you go right at the very second you exploded in her fingers. her hand was no longer on your neck, it was pressing on your chest just below your collarbone as she lets you ride out your high. your moans. her name. your cries. it was all music to her ears.

your consciousness came back, all along with your reason, and reality itself. you opened your eyes, panting. that might have just been one of the greatest sex you had in your entire life. you had a smile on your face as did natasha as she licked all your juices off her fingers.

her features softened as she caresses your face in her hands, pulling you closer, gently, softly, so you can stare into her eyes. "my good girl did so well for me." she whispers, giving you a peck on the nose. "mommy's gonna give you what you want later because you've done so well for me."

you knew she was jealous. your stunt made her jealous. you could see it in the way the end of her lip twitched. or through the darkness in her eyes.

you put your hands over hers. "i love you..." you whisper. "i belong to you. and you only."

that made her smile. she carried you off the sink and then she grabs a few tissue papers to soak in water and clean off your make up. she made sure to leave out your smudged lipstick. she left off the red tint on your lower face. and when you were about to fix it for yourself, she tuts. "don't. that should send a message that you're off limits, yeah?"

she didn't do anything to fix herself. your hairs were a mess, your dresses were wrinkled. but neither of you cared. you knew you wouldn't be staying any more than 5 minutes in this restaurant now.

she took your hand and let her fingers intertwined with yours as you both walked through the door. you were quickly met by the sight of a line of women with wanda on it's head. you couldn't even say anything. all you can do was hide behind natasha.

"next time, just go home." wanda says.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff one shot #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu

[silentcryracha]

I'd like to request a horny filthy absolutely deranged drabble about this Hyune look because I still haven't managed to get up from the floor iykwim

https://twitter.com/hyunesz/status/1684902894401921024?s=20

link - OH hun if only you knew how many asks I got about this specific look LMAO, glad we're all on the same horny boat 🤝

-

warnings: non idol au, strangers to lovers, drugs are mentioned but not used, smut 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex (don't), fingerings, oral (m receiving), kind of public sex?, afab reader, kinda dom Hyunjin

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The ambient felt hot and a little overwhelming. Just enough for __ to feel annoyed, but not suffocate her. The fact that it was completely dark except for the blue and purple lights that illuminated the dance floor enhanced this feeling.

She took another sip of her drink, keeping a small piece of ice in her mouth to refresh herself. She was bored, no question about it. Her colleagues dragged her to this expensive club after a cocktail event, as if the alcohol wasn't flowing enough as it was.

She truly couldn't give a fuck about a party organized by the man, who was essentially overworking his employees, that desperately needed to rub in everyone's faces the fact that he got promoted. Hence more money and power for someone who didn't deserve it. But hey, at least he was offering.

That club was not a normal, cheap club though, It was one of those hyper private and expensive places which only a specific range of people could access. Which is the main reason that convinced her to check it out, curiosity. But it was nothing different from a normal club aside from the crazy drink prices, the people were elegant and the drugs were not directly shoved in your face. It was also a lot cleaner, which was the best aspect.

At some point she heard a light shove, which made her turn her head to the side. A man dressed in an elegant suit, with light brown hair and glasses, also looked down at the woman sitting at the bar with an apologetic look. Even though __ could tell that he wasn't sober.

"Apologies" he slurred, shamelessly checking her out quickly before being pulled to the side slightly by another man. He was also dressed elegantly, with a black shirt that had the first couple of buttons undone, showing just enough of his collarbones.

She coulnd't help but stare for a couple of seconds at how beautiful that man was. Was he even real?

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Jisung" he said, glaring at him. __ was too starstruck to realize that she was still staring, but as soon as the black haired man locked eyes with her, she immediately woke from her daze and looked away. Yeah, stop embarrassing yourself too, __, she scolded herself mentally.

"C'mon man, don't you want to have some fun? A guy is selling some pretty dope stuff, if you know what I mean" the brown haired man nonchalantly hinted at sniffing his finger, and laughed when the black haired one rolled his eyes at him.

"I don't need cocaine to have fun. You do you though. But don't come fucking crying at my door when Chris fires you again." he warned him, taking a sip of his own drink before dismissing his friend. She didn't mean to be nosy, really. But they were just a little too close to her hearing area, so oops?

She still wasn't looking in their direction, pretending to be interested in stirring the small straw in her half finished drink. It was basically half ice and half fruit so she wasn't feeling the dizziness at all. Besides, she had decided to actually eat at the cocktail party, mainly out of boredom and to avoid making conversation.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, Hyun" Jisung scoffed, leaving his friend's side before disappearing into the dancing crowd. __ sneakily glanced at the man sat not too far from her. But with her surprise, he was already looking back at her. So, this time, instead of being a coward, she played it off with the hint of a smile.

The man tilted his head to the side slightly, the shadow of a smirk on his face, so confident and calm in his demeanor. It was almost intimidating, and she felt herself blush, a string of shivers running up her exposed spine.

She did feel quite overdressed, even for such a place. She was wearing an elegant black, silky, cowl back slip dress, that had a split on the right side. Her hair were tied up, so all her back almost down to her butt was exposed, as well as her neck, collarbones and some cleavage. Was it a little too much for a cocktail party? Actually not, but it was quite sexy and she knew it.

"I apologize for my colleague's rude ways." her head snapped towards him as she realized that he was speaking to her. His voice was hard to decipher, a mix of teasing, apologetic and polite. As she looked at him she saw his dark, piercing eyes staring at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh" she said, waving a hand dismissively, "It was nothing. I hope he gets home safe." she added, absolutely not knowing what else to say. And she was convinced that the conversation would've ended there, but the man didn't let it.

"He'll be fine. He's a lucky man." he replies, finishing his drink in one shot. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she retorted the question, carefully thinking how much she could trust that man.

"I'd ask if you're here alone, but it just seems to me like you were dragged here by someone else. Or else you would be enjoying yourself." she smirked, mimicking his head tilt.

"Do I look like I'm not enjoying myself?" her voice was between irony and curiosity, but truly she was just amused. The man put down one foot and lightly dragged his own stool a little closer, so that now less than thirty centimeters were separating them. If she had turned to face him, their legs would've touched.

"Not really. Unless your kind of fun is brooding at a bar alone while everyone else is grinding, dancing and, well, probably snorting coke on a few surfaces." he nudged his head to where the dance floor and some couches were.

"Not everyone, though." the woman replied, also finishing her fruity drink before continuing, "You're also sat here, at a bar, alone. So, are you also a type who doesn't want to have fun? Like your friend said?"

The black haired man raised an eyebrow, amused with how well you were keeping up with him.

"That's also true. So what, then? Are we really two people who can't have fun? Or maybe this isn't the place for us." this time it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Was he hinting at what she was thinking he was...?

"Do you have any suggestions, mr...?" she already knew that they were gonna end up fucking, so might as well gather some important info before any shit goes down.

"Hwang. Hyunjin Hwang." he answered without hesitation, still maintaining his cool aura. "And, about the place. It depends on which kind of fun you like." she didn't miss the way that his eyes checked out her whole figure, with a particular attention to her exposed back and valley between her breasts.

So she decided to play his game, and to send him a message loud and clear she elegantly turned her body towards him, crossing her legs. Effectively making her exposed calf brush against his clothed one. Hyunjin looked up at her with sharp eyes and a newly fueled hunger.

"I don't have preferences. Why don't you take me somewhere?" she asked seductively, leaning down to speak just enough to give him a new angle to her cleavage. He inhaled a sharp breath when her leg brushed against his again, so after that he decided that he had enough.

Hyunjin stood up, offering his hand to her, which she took. After that he led her through the mass of dancing and sweaty bodies in the dark, until they reached a small corridor. She thought that he was going to lead her into the bathroom, cliché but it will do for a quickie.

But suddenly he got in front of her, effectively caging her with his arms against the wall, to which her back was now pressed. She got tense for a second, until he detached one of his hands from the wall, bringing it up to caress her cheek.

"What's your name?" he asked, casually, as his hand kept on going down, from her cheek, to her neck, collarbones, his pointer finger lightly tracing the shape of her breasts that could be seen from the neckline. Her breath hitched at his every move, so featherlight, yet capable to make her shiver.

"__" she answered, breathy. Hyunjin hummed as his face got closer to her neck, leaving a small kiss on it, making her lightly gasp.

"Do you want to do this, __?" he murmured, against her skin. The loud music was now muffled to their ears, which allowed some sort of silence.

"Yes, I do" she breathed out, starting to touch his chest with her hands, until they slid around his neck to pull him closer. "Do you, Hyunjin?"

He didn't even answer and instead moved his head up to crash his plush lips to hers, the kiss immediately turning passionate and leaving both of them breathless. __ felt two hands on her ass, but before she could realize what was happening, Hyunjin had picked her up, making her legs wrap around him automatically.

He led them to the bathroom, and picked the men's one. Just because they would've just gave up by finding a locked bathroom, he was sure. Nothing would've ruined that moment.

He kept kissing her as she sat her on the expensive marble in between the sinks, then walked away to lock the door behind them. The bathroom was of course huge, clean, with dim lights and a wall long mirror behind the sinks.

She was still panting, both from the kiss and the adrenaline of the moment. Hyunjin swiftly unbuttoned the center jacket button and let it slip off his shoulders, placing it nearby. Then he unbuttoned and dragged up to his elbows his dark shirt. Actions that were so simple, but done by such a handsome and sexy man, were driving her crazy.

As he walked closer to her, his eyes were not leaving her at all. She instinctively spread her legs enough to accommodate him, which made him darkly chuckle. One hand went to her waist while the other to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her chin.

"Don't let me wait" she said with a husky voice, teasing the small v of his open shirt with her pointer finger. He laughed lightly, starting to kiss her neck and jaw, while his fingers started to trail up from her nude calf, to her knee, to her thighs, and bringing her slip up dress up to her sides as he did so.

"I'd love to play with you longer, but unfortunately you're right, we can't take too long" he said in between kisses, to which he had started to add some licks. She moaned, grabbing the side of his beautiful face and pressing it to her own, kissing him openly and sloppily.

She gasped into his mouth as Hyunjin's fingers were now gently rubbing her clit over her silk panties. She was losing her mind, and needed more, and she needed it now.

"Please Hyunjin..." she whimpered, her fingers clutching the fabric of the shirt on his shoulder. He hummed in her mouth, leaving it to speak "Tell me what you need, gorgeous"

"I-I need you to touch me. Touch my pussy, feel how wet it is for you" she grazed his ear while grinding on his hand. He used both hands to remove your panties, throwing them to the side somewhere near his jacket on the sink.

Then with his pointer and middle finger pressed together he started to rub up and down around your vulva, making you whine when he teased your hole and your clit respectively. A low, mocking chuckle escaped his full, pink, lips.

"You are drenched already. All this for me, you say?" he teased, with his two fingers now circling her little hole. She nodded eagerly, her lips continuously kissing, grazing, and licking at his skin, she felt drunk on him.

"Yes, just for you. Please, sir-" she didn't realized what had slipped her mouth until after she said it. Her eyes widened from the embarrassment, but Hyunjin on the other hand just chuckled, kissing her.

"Such a good girl, I've barely touched her and she's already so wet." he praised, "Let's see if she's also ready to take my fingers" he murmured to her ear, before slipping two fingers into her. The sudden action and the feeling of fullness made her gasp and moan at the same time.

Hyunjin started quite slowly with his in and out movements but as his fingers got wetter and wetter, her walls also relaxed a bit. Not too long after he started to finger her faster, more roughly, hitting exactly her spot.

Her fingers grasped both of his shoulders as moans and whines were leaving her mouth, mixed with his name, like a prayer.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum, mh? Make me feel you drench my fingers, c'mon, good baby." Hyunjin kept on praising her as he maintained his relentless pace.

"Oh- oh fuck, yes sir I'm gonna cum, please" she pleaded, closing her legs around his back, while he spit on his other hand and started rubbing her clit fast. That was it for __, as he gushed around Hyunjin's fingers.

She released a long sigh, in between whines because of how overly sensitive she was. "Shh, you did so well, good girl. Look how you drenched my fingers, baby" Hyunjin reclaimed her attention, and with dazed eyes she looked at him putting those same two fingers in his mouth, and suck.

Her mouth was agape, cheeks red, forehead sweaty and a beautiful fucked out expression. Hyunjin was already more than hard in his pants, but seeing her like that, so sexy and beautiful, made something snap in him.

"I want to fuck you so bad" he breathes out, unbuckling his pants, "Will you let me, mh? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little pussy?" he nuzzled her nose with his, desire dripping from his words.

"Yes! Fuck please, Hyunjin, sir" she was still so fucked out from her previous orgasm, but as desperate for another that she was stumbling on her words.

"Shh, baby. I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you so so good, okay pretty girl?" he cooed, while simultaneously wetting the tip of his dick with her juices, to then thrust in all in one go. She squealed by the surprise and tightened the grip on his butt with her legs, effectively pushing him even deeper. This time it was Hyunjin's turn to groan.

"So fucking tight- " he said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to hold himself back a bit. But her clenching and unclenching were not helping him, so in the end he decided to just go all in, and started to fuck her strong and fast.

"Ah, yes! Fuck yes, Hyunjin you're doing so well, please don't stop!" she exclaims in between moans. But he had other plans, because he swiftly pulled out, then dragged back to the edge of the sing __ , making her come down on wobbly legs, just to bend her over it.

They could see their reflections on the mirror now, which gave everything an even more erotic vibe. They both moaned loudly when Hyunjin penetrated her again, from behind. He picked up his fast pace pretty quickly, which made it feel like there hasn't even been a change in positions.

"You feel- so so fucking good, I'm cumming!" she exclaimed, gripping the edge of the marble sing with all her might. Hyunjin also knew that he was close to releasing, but he needed her to come first so he could've pulled out. So he licked two fingers and reached between her legs to rub her clit.

"Does that feel good? uh? Does my cock make you feel that good?" he grunted, keeping his fast pace, She just hummed in approval as she was too fucked out to talk. But Hyunjin wasn't having it, so he slapped her ass once, making her gasp and respond quickly.

"Sorry, sir. Yes it feel so so good" she cried, "I love your big cock making me feel so full. Are you close, Hyunjin?" she panted, as her breasts were dangling out of her dress by now. Braless, Hyunjin noted.

He groaned in response, speeding his ministrations on her clit. which made her orgasm explode immediately, He let her ride out her high,and then slowly pulled put.

"I want you in my mouth" Hyunjin turned around to see you jumping down the marble and getting on your knees. He pumped himself a few times before he let her take charge. Both of her hands pumped him at the same time, as she sucked and licked the red head.

"Mmh- __ I'm about to come" he warned, and then stilled as he emptied himself on your tongue. A few drops escaped the corners of her lips but she promptly caught them with her fingers, cleaning them too. Hyunjin moaned and sighed, having to lean back on the wall to support himself.

Before any of them could say anything, they heard a loud knock on the door. They both stood straight up, and got dressed and presentable as best they could.

Hyunjin hurried her to hide in one of the stalls, but without even hearing her out he forced her and said to "trust him". So she picked one and closed the door behind herself, listening.

She heard footsteps and then the door unlock, and then some voices.

"Sorry man, I think I might've closed it by accident." Hyunjin spoke, with his usual cool demeanor. She didn't hear him anymore so she assumed that he was gone. But she saw some elegant shoes going for a bathroom stall next to yours, so you waited until the man was in and then escaped from the men's bathroom.

She were about to search up the phone to call an Uber, since that was gonna definitely be the end of the night, but a am leaning against the corridor wall made her stop.

"I thought you'd left me there" her words were supposed to be a joke, but came out more embarrassing than anything. He leaned back from the wall and started to walk towards you.

"I would never." he answers, seriously "Would you like me to call you and Uber? I don't have my own car tonight so I can't take you home."

She smiled shyly. "We can share on if you'd like." she offered. He smiled at her and nodded, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"Then, if it's okay with you, I'd like to ask for your number." he said. She nodded, with a big smile of her own.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

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