#'my partner and I saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justrustandstardust · 2 months

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*✧:*one, two, three (it's not only you and me)*:･✧*:

@ryuqzn on X

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," the white-haired man says, gaze flickering down your body. he looks back up, making eye contact.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, blue eyes piercing.

after you get stood up, you're ready to cut your losses and head home. when a couple approaches you at the bar with a proposition, you just might end up changing your mind.

MDNI: i'm not joking, this is utter filth and minors should steer clear of it like they're teenage boys and this is a decent haircut.

pairing: geto/gojo/you

a/n: this is for someone special. you know who you are.

important: afab reader, she/her pronouns

word count: 16k (i know, i fucking know)

because i'm clinically insane, i've created a playlist to enchance your listening ~pleasure. here's the spotify version, and here's the youtube version. this is purely for the girls, gays and theys. i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it. (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

the clock's just struck nine, and you sigh, glancing down at your phone for the umpteenth time that evening. you suppose it's your fault for having such shit taste in men, anyways, for agreeing to meet a loser that didn't even bother to show.

swirling the straw around your drink, you kick your legs out from your seat on the barstool and ponder whether or not to ask the bartender for another. this is already your third drink; you're no lightweight but even you aren't impervious to the effects of three whiskey neats.

sighing again, you decide to cut your losses and call it a night. fuck men, you think distastefully, reaching into your bag for your wallet. literally and figuratively. you got all dressed up for some asshole that couldn't even bother to take you to bed tonight.

you're rooting around in your purse for your wallet when there’s a sudden tap on your shoulder. you glance up, and are met with the faces of possibly the two most beautiful men you've ever seen before in your life. they tower over you, and though you're sitting, you know that even if you stood up they'd easily have several inches on you. the dark-haired man is sporting a half-up half-down hairstyle, the contours of his chest and broad shoulders barely hidden by a fitted dress shirt and leather jacket.

you glance at the other man, who's light-haired and blue-eyed. his waist is so impossibly small in his dress shirt that you almost reach out to wrap your hands around it, just to see if they could fit. they're looking at you like they're seeing through you, and you blink, heady from both the alcohol and weight of their gaze.

"sorry to interrupt, but are you heading out?" the dark-haired man asks politely, leaning forward slightly. you nod slowly, unsure of what he's going to say next.

he chuckles, ducking his head. "ah, that's too bad. my partner and i were wondering if you'd like to come out with us tonight."

"come out?" you say, raising an eyebrow. the white-haired man rolls his eyes, pushing at the dark-haired man's arm.

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," he says, making direct eye contact with you.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, gaze unwavering. your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you glance between them, watching as the dark-haired man —suguru?— pushes back, swatting the white-haired man on the shoulder.

"you'll have to forgive satoru, he's a bit upfront. but yes, we would love to get to know you better, if you're interested," he says purposefully, dark eyes meeting yours.

"no pressure, of course. we'd be just as happy to call you a taxi to make sure you get home safe and leave it at that," he adds, nodding at the door. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you glance between them, at the cocksure expression on the white-haired man's face and the carefully open one on his partner's.

"can i know your names?" you manage, and the dark-haired man smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"you can call me geto. this is gojo," he says, gesturing to the white-haired man, who boisterously sticks out his tongue and flashes a peace sign.

you tell them your name in return and geto smiles again, glancing at gojo.

"that's a beautiful name. we'd be happy to do whatever you'd like to do tonight— it's totally up to you. we'll be happy with any choice you make, even if that means our acquaintanceship ends here," geto says kindly but meaningfully, looking into your eyes so you know he's serious. gojo nods beside him, and then smirks.

"wherever you're headed won't be nearly as exciting as us, though," he intones liltingly, brow raised in challenge. geto smacks him upside the head and he winces, pouting at the abuse.

"satoru is just joking," geto says, glancing sharply at gojo. "we are completely okay with whatever you want to do. we just want to make our interest in you very, very clear."

you haven't moved for the entirety of this interaction. you glance between them again, at these two heaven-sent men on a night you were basically begging to be dicked down only to be disappointed by the universe (read: a random loser whose name you can't even remember). swallowing hard, you think that you made your choice as soon as the words left geto's lips.

"i'll come with you," is what finally comes out of your mouth, throat dry. geto's lips quirk upwards and gojo grins, extending a hand to help you down from the barstool.

"just let me pay for these drinks first," you say, going for your purse. geto shakes his head and steps forward, catching your wrist in one hand and guiding it away from your bag.

"i don't think so," he says simply, releasing your wrist and reaching into his back pocket. he throws way too many bills onto the counter and you're trying not to gape as gojo snickers, urging you to take his hand. his palm is warm to the touch as he helps you down from the barstool, geto bringing up the rear with a featherlight touch to the small of your back.

you were right. even with heels, they tower over you. flanked on either side, they walk you to the door, geto pushing it open and gesturing for you to go through. as you pass him, you catch a whiff of versace's eau fraiche, the distinct notes of rosewood filtering through your nostrils. gojo follows behind you, tapping on his phone.

it's cold, and you didn't bring a jacket. you're trying to appear like you're not shivering but geto notices anyways, shrugging off his own leather jacket to drape around your shoulders. gojo steps away, raising his phone to his ear.

"where are we going?" you ask, geto's cologne enveloping you along with his residual body heat. geto glances at gojo, who's speaking quietly to someone on the phone.

"somewhere private," he says, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. he looks at you, something darkening in his gaze. "somewhere no one will disturb us."

gojo hangs up the phone, stepping off the curb into the street. seconds later, a sleek black SUV pulls up, windows tinted. gojo goes around the other side and geto opens the door for you, holding out a hand to help you inside. it's easily the most expensive car you've ever been in, the seats plush and the interior unbelievably spacious. there are four seats facing each other, the front of the car partitioned so the driver isn't visible. gojo takes the seat opposite you, kicking up his feet and folding his hands behind his head.

geto sits down beside you, reaching into a small compartment that evaded your notice to produce a chilled bottle of water.

"so you can sober up," he explains, unscrewing the cap. "we don't want you intoxicated for what's coming next."

"what's coming next?" you parrot, taking the water. gojo snickers again, pulling a lollipop out from god knows where and popping it between his teeth. he sucks, cheeks hollowing around the candy, eyes never leaving yours.

"we're down to do whatever you want to do," geto says, turning to face you. his features are open, honest. "we just need to know what's on the table."

"everything," you reply too quickly, answer coming out instantly. geto chuckles good-naturedly, gesturing to the water.

"then you'll have to get started on that."

you've never chugged water so hastily in your life. the drive is short, ten minutes at best, and the three of you sit in comfortable silence, tempered by the sounds of smooth rnb filtering through the car's speakers. the car pulls up beside a skyscraper, endlessly tall against the city skies. gojo takes the empty bottle from your hand and carelessly tosses it aside, stepping outside and taking your hand in his to help you out of the car. geto goes around the other way, nodding at the driver as the car rolls away from the curb.

the building is locked, and you watch as gojo pulls out a black card, flashing it in front of a sensor. the doors part to reveal an immaculate marble lobby, scaffolded by floor-to-ceiling windows that are at least three stories high. building staff are positioned discreetly behind tall counters, none of whom pay gojo and geto any mind as the three of you make their way through to the elevators. your heels are clacking on the polished floor, geto's jacket snug around your shoulders.

there are eight elevators, but only one with a sensor. gojo flashes his card again, the elevator doors sliding open. geto holds the door for you as you step inside, taking gojo's proffered arm. he presses the only button on the wall —labelled PH— as geto follows you inside, the doors closing behind him. you're still holding onto gojo's arm as the elevator rises, and rises, and rises. it moves silently, the only sound the clack of the lollipop against gojo's teeth. it's been at least two full minutes and you're starting to wonder if you're genuinely in the stratosphere when there's a quiet ping and the elevator slows to a stop.

geto steps out, motioning at you to go ahead. gojo leads you down the hall to what appears to be the only suite on the entire floor. expecting the black card again, you're surprised when he presses his palm to a large, flat pad, which scans his hand and flashes green. the door clicks open and gojo heads inside, geto once again bringing up the rear.

you're confronted by the most stunning residence you've ever seen. the architecture is open-concept, with two stories connected by a spiral staircase. the same floor-to-ceiling windows from the lobby showcase the glittering city skyline, lights twinkling just below the clouds. everywhere you look, there's sleek leather and white marble, outfitted with tasteful minimal decor and modern art.

"where am i?" is all you're able to say, struggling to pick your jaw up from the floor. gojo laughs, sliding his jacket off and tossing it onto a chaise in the living room.

"don't worry about it," he winks, pulling the lollipop from between his lips and ignoring geto's subsequent eyerolling. "life is better when you get it to live it in 3D."

"he's a nepo baby," geto interjects, going around the kitchen island and opening two massive fridge doors. "and he's insufferable, so being rich makes him easier to deal with."

gojo huffs indignantly, tossing the lollipop in something discreetly disguised as a garbage.

geto rummages around in the fridge, taking out the most expensive-looking sandwich you've ever seen. "hungry?"

you shake your head, and geto looks at you, imploring. "i know you had the water, but you're going to need....energy, for what we have planned."

choice made. placing your purse down on the island, you make your way over to where he's standing, taking the baguette. hopping onto a stool, you take a bite, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at the rich flavours. brie, prosciutto, fig jam.....the list continues.

geto glances at gojo, who's now only wearing his slacks, dress shirt and tie. "satoru, you can start getting the room ready. i'll bring her when she's done."

you’re mildly surprised when gojo makes an affirmative noise and leaves without snark, setting off to one of the many rooms in the suite. after he disappears from sight, geto turns back to you.

"this is the part where i ask how you like it," he says, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen island. you swallow, fig jam tangy on your tongue.

"like i said," you meet his gaze, holding steady. "i like all of it."

geto smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "both ends?"

"every single one," you say purposefully, never breaking eye contact.

he chuckles, nodding to himself. "we're clean, by the way."

"as am i," you confirm, popping the last bite of sandwich into your mouth. "on birth control, too," you add, after chewing.

"good to know," geto remarks, pushing himself off his elbows. he helps you down from the stool, taking his jacket from your shoulders and setting it down on the counter. fingertips dancing along the small of your back, he guides you down the same direction gojo went earlier, stopping in front of a large door.

"last chance to change your mind," he says, voice low. he's looking at you openly, honestly. "there won't be any hard feelings either way."

you've never been so sure of anything in your life. "i want this," you breathe, suffocated by the truth of that statement. "i want both of you."

geto exhales, slow smile gracing his features. wordlessly, he opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead. the room is dimly lit by cool-toned floorlights, but you can make out the shape of a bed in the centre, warmed by a fireplace at its opposite. the same floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city skyline, creating a glittering effect along the room’s walls. you squint at the far-off section of the room with tiled floor, following the tile into a bathroom that houses a massive, glass doored rainfall shower, alongside an enormous claw-foot tub.

gojo is standing in front of the bed, lanky stature backlit by the cityscape outside. he's still wearing his shirt, slacks and tie, sans his shoes. the door clicks shut behind you, and you sense more than see geto take a step towards you, breath ghosting along the nape of your neck.

deafening silence engulfs the room as every single one of your hairs stand on end, the energy in the space charged. gojo hasn't moved and neither has geto, both standing stock still in the silence like they're waiting for you to make the first move.

you let out a shuddering exhale and that's all geto needs, his hand wrapping around your jaw as his mouth attaches itself to your neck. he sucks harshly, hungrily, as his other hand grips your waist from behind, pressing the entire length of his body against yours. gojo is in front of you in an instant and you don't waste a second, yanking him forward by the tie to crash your lips together.

the artificial flavour of the lollipop is sweet on his tongue as he kisses you with intention, hand slipping down to hike your leg around his waist. geto's tongue is working against your neck at the same time, the sensation of two hot mouths overwhelming. gojo sucks your lower lip into his mouth as geto bites the juncture of your neck, eliciting a whine into gojo's teeth.

heat is pooling between your legs and you can feel that they're both hard already, gojo pressed into your front and geto against your back. geto suddenly releases your jaw, taking a step back as gojo lifts you up, settling your other leg around his waist. he's still making out with you as your arms wrap around his shoulders and he walks you both to the bed, carrying you like it's effortless. he sets you down onto the bed, breaking away once you're laid flat on its smooth surface.

you make to grab his tie again and he snatches your wrist in one hand, smirking.

"eager, are we?"

"a bitch, are you?" you snipe, enjoying the way his eyes flash with amusement. he pins your wrist above your head, dipping his head down so that your noses are brushing.

"if you want something, you'll have to ask it for it," he says lowly, gaze flickering down to your mouth. "nicely."

"make me," you retort breathlessly, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. he kisses you back just as hard, broad shoulders caging you in as your hand twists uselessly in his grip.

he breaks away, releasing your wrist. geto reappears, shirtless and wearing only his black jeans. you barely have time to appreciate the muscled planes of his chest and the toned flesh of his abs as he grabs the back of gojo's head, messily bringing their mouths together.

gojo moans against his lips, palms coming up to press at his chest. without breaking apart, geto rips his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as fabric tears. somehow, the tie remains.

gojo shoves him away, stepping backwards to frown at what used to be his shirt. "that was expensive, you know."

"you can buy a dozen more," geto says mildly, turning back to you. you're transfixed, staring at gojo's bare chest that is just as defined as geto's, at the dip of his collarbones and the defined ridges of his abdomen.

gojo makes a face at his ruined shirt and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with geto.

"you're wearing far too many clothes," says geto, a shadow passing over his features. you swallow, shrinking into the bed as something that's not quite fear passes over you— more like an impending sense that something is coming.

geto climbs onto the bed, getting all up into your space immediately. claiming your mouth with his own, he kisses you like he fucking owns you, subsuming every thought in your mind to the point that you don't even notice him unzipping your dress.

he removes your clothes with a care that he didn't use in taking off gojo's, gently tossing your dress aside when you're down to your bra and panties. you're staring up at him as he leans down into you, warm hand resting on your hip.

gojo reappears with a remote in his hand, and you hear a click followed by the same smooth rnb from the car. there must be speakers threaded into the walls because the sound feels like it's coming from everywhere, weaving together the neurons in your brain that have been fried by sensation.

"is this okay?" geto's voice is soft but his eyes are piercing as he lifts you up towards him, palms supporting your back. you nod haltingly, heat flooding your veins as he inclines his head to kiss you again. without stopping, he deftly unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it against the wall without looking. all of a sudden, he pulls away, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed.

gojo swaps places with him, coming up to your torso. you raise an eyebrow in question and geto smiles knowingly, climbing onto the bed and settling in front of your legs.

"satoru and i have different areas of speciality, you could say." gojo's smirk is back on his face as he takes in the sight of your naked chest, watching the flush that you're fighting spread down your clavicle.

"don't be shy, now," he teases, ignoring your death glare. you're about to retort but the air suddenly leaves your lungs in a whoosh as gojo bends forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. his soft hands cup your breasts, massaging firmly as his tongue flickers against the hardening bud.

you let out a shaky exhale, toes curling as one of your hands comes up to rest in his hair. the sensation is so intense that you almost don't notice geto sliding your panties down your legs until you feel the cool air against your damp lips.

gojo continues his ministrations, sucking your nipple into his mouth and tonguing it hard, nipping when you let out a low groan. geto spreads your legs and settles between them, kneeling on the bed. dark head bent, he drops lingering kisses up your legs, all the way from your calves up to your inner thighs. his lips are warm on your skin and you're absolutely throbbing, aching for it as he gets closer to your burning core.

gojo has switched to your other breast and geto is pressing butterfly kisses to the soft flesh of the inside of your thighs, sucking tender hickeys into the thin skin. the sensations are too much and not enough all at once, overwhelming your senses but not quite satisfying the ache inside you for more.

geto's mouth is everywhere except where you want it most— he's at the crease of your thigh, at the seam of your hip, the bump of your pubic bone. his breath ghosts over your slick lips, a sly smile lifting the corner of his mouth when you buck up, chasing. as gently as a butterfly beats its wings, he circles your clit with the pad of a fingertip, not quite touching it in the way he knows you want him to. you can’t hold back the whine that escapes your mouth, and geto’s lips quirk, his expression amused. his hands are warm on your hips and it feels like coming home when his lips finally meet yours, lapping up the slickness in your folds like a man parched.

gojo has released your nipples and he's positioned himself behind you to prop your upper body up, nibbling on your earlobes with his palms still cupping your breasts. geto's dark head is buried between your legs and he's eating you out like he was fucking born for it, alternating between dipping his tongue inside of you and sealing his lips around your clit. sucking down rasping breaths, you see stars when his mouth forms a vacuum around your clit and he sucks hard , your thighs clamping around his head as your hand fists in his hair.

geto hasn't stopped, arms beneath your thighs to hold your hips down as he pushes his tongue deeper inside your sopping centre. a choked-off moan falls from your lips and gojo snickers into the skin of your neck, his naked chest and the fabric of the tie pressed into your spine.

"you're enjoying dessert, aren't you, suguru?" gojo's voice is lilting and you would retort but you can't, too busy gasping for air as geto just hums in agreement, relentlessly tonguing your clit.

gojo begins leaving lovebites all around your shoulders and you can feel his fingers twisting and pinching your nipples, the sensation heightened by geto feasting between your legs. you're so wet that his chin is glistening with it, a few strands of his dark hair slipping out and falling into his face as he eats you out with vigour, the tendons in his jaw tensing from effort.

“oh god, don’t stop,” you cry out, fists clenched in the sheets. gojo chuckles behind you, tweaking a nipple and laughing when you spasm.

“did you hear that, suguru? i think you’re gonna have to step it up.”

without taking his mouth off your clit, his long fingers slide so smoothly inside of you that they may as well have been there all along. pumping shallowly, he continues to suck on your clit, pulsing his lips and flicking his tongue around the most sensitive part of you.

you keen, high and loud, and geto doesn't need words to understand, pressing a final kiss to your clit and leaning back to thrust his hand properly. he crooks his fingers, searching, and you cry out when he hits your spot, toes curling so hard it hurts.

"right there, huh?" geto murmurs knowingly, fingering you ruthlessly. you ride the high, sparks bursting behind your eyelids. the solid warmth from behind you suddenly disappears as gojo lowers you onto the bed, and you crack an eye open just in time to see him grin devilishly and press his fingers down onto your mound, right above where geto's hand is inside of you.

the combination of inner and outer pressure is too much and you mewl, legs jerking as your walls contract and a sensation you've never felt before washes over you, almost like your body is releasing a gush of liquid.

"we got her to squirt," gojo declares smugly, continuing to press down as geto works you through your orgasm. you're arching off the bed, sheets clenched in your hands as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down upon you, an infinite tsunami upon a helpless shore.

after what feels like forever, you slump back down, chest heaving. geto gently withdraws his hand from between your legs and licks his fingers while gojo lifts his hand to release the pressure from your pelvis. you lift your head up to see gojo standing at the foot of the bed, palming the front of his pants, face scrunched up in want. geto looks to be faring no better as he gets up to stand beside gojo, bulge straining against his jeans.

"i think it's time we got these off," geto says, unzipping his pants. gojo shucks off his slacks in one go, ripping off the tie that somehow remained around his neck throughout all of this. suddenly they're both down to their underwear, black boxers tented.

they glance at you and then back at each other before gojo drops to his knees on the floor, pulling geto's boxers down with him. you watch, spent, as gojo takes geto into his mouth, swallowing around him and fondling his sack. geto tips his head back and rakes a hand through gojo’s hair, peering down at his head bobbing on his length. you're enjoying the show as geto thrusts shallowly into his mouth, his abs flexing with the motion.

gojo’s adam’s apple is bobbing as his throat works, and he keeps going until geto's breathing grows laboured, only stopping when geto gestures with his chin toward you on the bed. gojo releases him with a lewd pop and barely has a second to collect himself before geto's pushing him onto his back, stripping off his underwear and taking him down into his throat in one go. you watch, amazed, at what appears to be geto's total lack of a gag reflex.

"throat goat," gojo remarks fondly, reaching down to thread his hand through geto's dark hair. geto slaps his thigh and gojo chuckles, breaking off to groan when geto urges him on, pushing his ass forward to get him to fuck his throat.

you're still recovering from your climax when geto releases gojo from his mouth, wiping at the saliva around his lips. gojo glances at you, grinning as he pushes himself up onto his palms.

"want a turn?" he asks impishly, gesturing at geto, who stands up. you raise yourself into a sitting position up by the elbows and regard the two men in front of you and their well-endowed assets. gojo is longer but slightly thinner, like a water bottle. geto is girthier and thicker, like a beercan. you'll happily take both.

"i think she's got another orgasm in her, don't you?" geto climbs onto the bed and tugs you onto your hands and knees, gojo going behind you. "why don't you see what you can do about that, satoru."

you're gazing hungrily at the girthy length of geto, veiny and uncut up close. he's still glistening with gojo's saliva as you lick the tip, geto's palm coming to rest on your head. you're taking him down inch by inch as you feel gojo settle behind you, shivering as he trails a finger through the wetness gathered at your lips.

one hand gripping your hip, he lines himself up and pushes inside your wet heat until he's flush against your ass, forcing all the air out of your lungs. in the same instant, you reach the base of geto's length, full at both ends. you moan around him as gojo begins to thrust in earnest, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating around the room as he fucks you relentlessly.

"shit," gojo says lowly, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you're taking me like a champ."

geto's eyes are closed, his palm resting on your hair. you pull back, flattening your tongue beneath the head while your hand jacks off whatever your mouth can't reach. gojo changes angles and you can suddenly feel him in your chest, his tip so deeply inside of you that it's kissing your cervix.

you pick up the pace, tonguing the slit, and geto is openly groaning, gripping your hair hard enough that it hurts. you don't mind it— you encourage it, in fact, while gojo's fucking you hard enough that your walls will surely remember his shape. every time he brings you back onto his length, heady pleasure shoots through your veins, your toes tingling hotly. you can already feel another orgasm coming as gojo reaches a hand between your legs, searching for your clit. he twists his fingers evilly, not letting up when you let out a muffled moan around geto's girth.

"i think she likes it," gojo says, smirk audible in his voice. he rubs in tight, deliberate circles, his hand quickening as you stop sucking and just breathe, eyes rolling back in your head when he snaps his hips and simultaneously hits your spot.

you hear him laugh breathlessly, thrusts hindered somewhat as your walls spasm around him, his pace slowing as you come for the second time. he fucks you through it, pulling out when it becomes too much. gojo smacks your ass, laughing at the surprised yelp that exits your mouth.

"couldn't resist, princess," he winks at you, coming around to the front of the bed. again, they swap positions and geto moves to the back, warm hands settling around your waist. he brings you backwards onto him, your shoulder blades against his chest. he's warm, so warm, and you melt into his arms. he presses soft kisses into your neck, humming when you sigh contentedly and tip your head onto his shoulder.

"aren't you glad you had that sandwich?" he murmurs into your skin, hands roving all over your pliant body. the sound of a cap opening interrupts your reply, which was just going to be an mmhm-hmm anyways. you blink, watching gojo squeeze lube onto his fingers and stroke geto between your legs, whose eyelids flutter closed at the sensation.

after a few moments, gojo releases geto, who then lifts you up like you weigh nothing, settling you above him on your knees, one braced on either side of his hips. your back is still to his chest, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, cocking your head in question.

"lube?" you say, watching geto chuckle. he smooths a hand down your side, soothing.

"i know you don't have any problems getting wet," he smiles, gaze flickering down your body between your legs. he looks up, eyes dark. "but we can't have you feeling raw just yet."

your heart jumps in your chest when a hand grabs your chin, turning your head to face the front. you're met with the full mast of gojo, who's up on his knees in front of you, his shins pressing into the bed. it happens all at once and geto is lowering you down as you swallow around gojo, the taste of precome heady on your tongue. you sink down onto geto for what feels like forever, his tip reaching towards your ribs.

if gojo fucked you relentlessly, geto fucks you like god himself commanded him, a divine task ordained straight from the heavens above. he bounces you up and down, pushing his hips up to meet yours on every thrust. your palms are braced on gojo's thighs and you can barely breathe around him, glancing up to see his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he wantonly pumps his hips into your mouth, sliding his length along your tongue.

geto's hands are vicelike around your waist, his hot, hard length stretching your walls every time he brings you down onto his hips. they're working in tandem, each fucking a pair of your lips, and it’s so fucking good that you could cry. you’re absolutely stuffed at both ends, hot pleasure emanating from your core to spread throughout your body every time geto pushes back into you. another orgasm is cresting on the horizon as he picks up the pace, jackrabbiting his hips as he lifts you up impossibly higher, the bed creaking from the combined force of their movements.

"god, you're tight," geto grunts, punctuated by the sound of his balls slapping your ass. "so tight, just for me."

you're so close, you're so fucking close, and you've stopped sucking entirely as geto fucks you harder, your breasts bouncing in time with the motion. gojo suddenly pulls out from your mouth and you don't have time to react before he drops into a kneeling position and grasps your jaw in his hand, bringing your lips to meet his own. gojo slides his tongue inside your mouth, his hand moving up from your jaw to hold your head as his tongue caresses yours.

you moan into his mouth, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you pull him flush to your chest while geto continues to fuck you, bliss radiating outward from where you’re joined. your nipples are pebbled against the smooth planes of gojo's clavicle and he deepens the kiss, fingers weaving into your hair as his other hand slips down to dance along your overly sensitive clit.

geto tilts his hips and floods every sense in your body with white-hot ecstasy as he rails your spot, the curve of gojo’s smirk sharp against your mouth while his fingertips stroke your clit. you drench the bed for the second time that night as you come, back arching in geto's grip as gojo's fingertips tease the lips stretched around geto's girth, still pistoning in and out of you.

"nice, we got a second squirt," gojo crows, eyes crinkling in mirth as he draws back. he raises his hand for a high-five and you don't have to look to know geto is rolling his eyes as he slaps gojo's hand. geto slowly brings you down to lean onto him, his chest rising and falling from exertion. he's still buried inside of you and you can barely think through the haze in your mind, sagging limply into his arms. geto supports your weight, whispering quietly into your hair as you come down.

"that's it, just like that." his voice is gentle, unlike the way he was moving inside of you moments ago. he twines his arms around your waist as you both catch your breath, the broad muscle of his chest firm against your back. your eyes are closed and your entire body is relaxed, held up by geto's sturdy frame.

"you guys didn't come," you manage to say, voice thick. you feel geto's chest rumble as he laughs, low and deep in your ear.

"that's very kind of you to be concerned," he says, soft smile audible in his voice. "but it's all good. we like to draw things out."

you feel the bed dip as gojo climbs back on, the click of a bottle cap echoing in the quiet of the room.

"we're going to give you a bit of a break," gojo tells you, voice teasing. "you can relax and enjoy the show."

you blink blearily, limbs liquified as geto lifts you off and carefully sets you to his side, wrapping an arm around you as you curl up beside him. you watch while gojo lubes him up again, twisting his wrist knowingly when he meets the head. gojo glances up and they share a private moment, conversing without words. you're content to watch as an intimate smile graces geto's features and gojo leans forward to peck him on the lips, still stroking all the while.

geto withdraws his arm from around you, sitting up to settle gojo on top of his thighs. he spreads gojo's legs over his own, their faces close enough to share the same breath. the lube reappears and gojo leans his weight onto his palm, watching as geto squeezes some over his fingers. they're in an incredibly intimate position, almost lotus-like, legs folded together and gojo's other hand braced on geto's shoulder.

geto slides the first finger inside of gojo with so much confidence that it's obvious they've done this a thousand times before. gojo's spine arches and he exhales hard, eyelids fluttering shut as geto starts stretching him out. geto's dark eyes are trained on his disappearing finger, and you can see gojo's hand tensing around his shoulders. gojo's shaky breaths echo around the room when geto adds another finger, thrusting with more urgency. there's a squelching sound every time his hand meets gojo's ass, and you watch in awe as gojo takes it like he was fucking born for nothing else.

they're both hard as hell, and you're starting to wonder if it's getting painful. you don't have time to contemplate this thought for long before geto's up to three fingers and he changes the angle of his hand, gojo's body jerking violently as geto deliberately hits his spot. geto cranes his neck to suckle at gojo’s nipple, smirking into his chest when he mewls. he squeezes gojo's ass with his free hand and continues pressing his spot as gojo spasms, his lips parted in a soundless moan.

geto carefully withdraws his hand, kissing gojo softly on the lips before taking his wrists and pulling him up onto his knees. geto climbs off the bed, going to stand behind gojo. his eyes flicker over to you and you meet his gaze, cloudy with want. geto doesn't look away as he pushes himself inside of gojo, his arms wrapping around gojo's torso to tug him up against his chest. he starts thrusting carefully, letting gojo adjust to the feeling of his full length inside of him.

you can feel yourself getting wet again as geto finally closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to gojo's neck as he pulls out slowly, bringing his hips forward again. you're brimming with hunger as you watch their bodies move together, geto's one hand wrapped around gojo's throat and the other pressed flat to his chest, holding him upright. gojo is making low noises, quiet ungh-ungh-unghs as geto fills him up, again and again.

"who do you belong to?" geto grunts into his neck, hand tightening around his throat, gojo’s adam’s apple protruding between his fingers.

gojo breathes out a shuddering exhale, his knees and shins pressed into the mattress. his entire weight is leaned onto geto, who's somehow supporting him and fucking him simultaneously.

gojo bites his lip, furrowing his brow. you can see the muscles of geto's ass flexing as he plunges into gojo, not letting up for even a second.

"well," gojo rasps, sounding like he's going for contemplative but ending up wanton instead. "you'll just have to ask george clooney."

geto’s balls slap gojo's ass when he delivers a particularly punishing thrust, pushing all the air out of gojo in a loud huff.

"are you sure about that?" geto sounds remarkably composed for a man who's inside another man's ass.

gojo is only able to make a noise of affirmation in response, a strained uh-huh through his teeth. his giggle is breathless when geto releases his throat to slap his cheek, the thwack loud in the quiet.

"why don't you try again," geto's voice is rough and he changes angles, finding exactly what he's searching for when gojo's body jackknifes into his chest.

"fine, you got me,” gojo moans, throwing his head back onto geto's shoulder. "tell george that i'm —ah!— cheating on him with matt damon.”

this was clearly not the answer geto was looking for. he quickens his pace, slamming his hips hard enough into gojo’s ass to bruise. reaching a hand around to wrap around gojo’s length, his fist is a blur as he strokes in time with his thrusts.

“who do you belong to?” geto says again, strained but still pointed, leaving no room for argument. gojo’s body is strung taut, every muscle tensed with his mouth open and face pinched tight as the bed shakes.

you can only stare as the veins pop out of gojo's neck, abs contracting with his back arched against geto's chest. "i h— i heard idris elba is free— agh!"

geto releases him and pulls out in the same second, taking a full step backwards. gojo lets out a sound that sounds like a sob, body folding in half at the sudden, overwhelming emptiness.

geto continues to stand there, unmoving and unflinching. he's hard as a rock but he looks like he could wait forever as gojo curls in on himself, distraught by the lack of sensation.

gojo whimpers brokenly and brings a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, his body visibly aching with need. "you," he sobs, on the verge of tears when it finally comes out. "only you. always you."

geto nods, just once, and the relief on gojo's face is palpable when geto yanks him upright and pushes back inside of him in one snap of his hips. geto's rhythm is harsh as he takes gojo again in his other hand, squeezing from root to tip. geto swipes his thumb over the head and gojo makes a choked-off noise, turning his head over his shoulder to tangle their tongues together.

"brat," geto says into his mouth, to which gojo can only whine in agreement.

they're both breathing heavily and it's the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen, the pleasure visible on both of their faces. gojo is biting his lip, eyes scrunched shut, and sweat is beading at geto's temple as he moves, his brows creased. gojo's mouth falls open and he keens, high and loud, body rocking into geto's as they have sex in front of you.

you just met him a few hours ago but you can tell gojo is close, his breaths growing ragged and moans increasing in pitch as he nears climax. right before the event horizon, geto lets go of gojo, stilling his movements but remaining inside of him. gojo lets out an aggravated groan and cracks an eye open, turning his head to look at you.

"this is where you come in, princess," he manages, speech almost slurred. "come here."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. scampering over, you comply when gojo motions for you to turn around. his grip is tight on your ass when he brings your hips back, the hard length of him pressing into the wetness pooled between your legs. he slips inside of your tight heat effortlessly, filling you to the hilt as geto starts fucking him again. gojo is stretching you out and you love the feeling of being so damn full, head hanging low and breasts swaying with the motion as geto fucks gojo and gojo fucks you.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you're seeing stars as gojo makes high-pitched sounds, geto's panting filling up the spaces in between his whimpers. it's quite possibly the most erotic thing you've ever experienced, having one man inside of you while another man is inside of him. you can't help but wonder how it feels for gojo, filling up one person with someone else filling him up simultaneously.

they're moving in time with each other, and you hear gojo's breathing become frantic as he gasps. the force of geto's thrusts are pushing him forwards into you, nudging his head repeatedly into your cervix. gojo's palms are hot on your hips, and you feel more than see his body tense up as he approaches orgasm. a loud gasp is pushed out of his chest when geto reaches around to pinch his nipples.

gojo chokes on air, rutting forward into you and pushing himself back onto geto in the same moment. he sounds wrecked with sensation as geto doesn't stop for a second, pounding into him while you clench and milk him for all he's worth.

"fuck, suguru, i'm gonna— fuck, i'm coming," gojo cries, spilling deep inside of you. geto fucks him through it, pushing gojo's load deeper inside of you as he keeps coming. gojo has stopped moving and just rides out his climax, grip loosening around your hips. geto's forcing him forwards into you over and over again, the motion bracketed by gojo's unfettered groans and his own harsh panting. after a long minute, you feel geto pull out of gojo and gojo pull out of you, the lewd noises juxtaposed against the soft music still playing.

gojo flops down onto the bed beside you, chest heaving. geto disappears into the bathroom only to reappear moments later with a damp towel, which gojo catches in one hand. he goes again into the bathroom and you hear the sound of the shower starting up.

"what's he doing?" you ask, watching gojo's chest rise and fall. he holds up a finger, slowing his breathing before he answers you.

"cleaning himself up," he says between lungfuls of air. he turns his head to look at you and winks. "he needs to wash up for what we have planned next with you."

you don't have time to ponder exactly what that could entail before gojo suddenly sits up and manhandles you onto your back, his hands pushing your collarbones. you can feel his release leaking out of you, slippery in between your thighs.

"remember what i said about asking nicely?" his blue eyes are piercing as they bore into yours. gojo is close enough that you can count his eyelashes, and you catch the lingering scent of ysl’s black opium cologne. you swallow, toes tingling at the sheer proximity.

he leans into you and you're dumbstruck by the broadness of him as he cages you in, dipping his head down to brush his nose against yours. barely breathing, you have to bite back a whimper as gojo’s mouth moves to your throat.

"manners are important, you know." sucking hungrily, he spreads your legs with a knee, reaching down to clean up the mess he made inside of you.

"shocked that you would know, seeing as you don't have any," you choke out, nails scrabbling at his shoulder blades while he wipes you clean, the light touch of gojo's hand stark in contrast to the teeth at your throat. you feel him grin into your skin.

"i'm demonstrating them right now, aren’t i?" you can't tell if you're wet from him coming inside of you or from the way he's touching you, once again too much and not enough all at once.

"don't gentlemen always clean up the messes they make?" gojo asks rhetorically, lips moving on your skin. "i'm nothing if not a gentleman."

"and i'm the goddamn president," your voice wobbles but it comes out sufficiently derisory for you in this moment. "since we're telling jokes now."

gojo bites, sucking hard enough to leave a purpled bruise. you can't stop your hand from twisting in his hair, your body arching up into him.

"i know what you want," gojo’s voice is low as he tilts your jaw up for better access, his mouth hot on your neck. he throws the soiled towel aside without looking. "and i'm not going to give it to you until you ask. nicely. "

he moves down your body, leaving bruising kisses along your sternum, your ribs, your hipbones. his palms are cool when they press into your knees, pushing your legs apart so he can kneel between them. gojo looks up at you from beneath his lashes, daring you to retort.

"i know you can do it," he drawls, voice lilting in condescension. he grazes a finger through your slick folds, darting away when your eyelids flutter. "all you need to do is ask."

sheets clenched in your hands, you bite your lip. looking down, you appraise the cocky grin on gojo's face, his eyebrow raised in challenge. he's a bitch, for sure, but it takes one to know one.

"no," is all you say, watching his gaze darken. "i don't think i will."

gojo's mouth is above your clit in a flash, breath hot on your slick lips. your hips buck up involuntarily and he leans back, laughing. you kick at his chest with a foot, resisting the urge to pout.

"come on, it won't kill you," he says mockingly. "it might even do you good to learn some manners."

his hands are firm on your hipbones and he dips his head back down, breathing along your lips. every fibre of your being is on fire and you want it so bad it hurts, throbbing hotly at your core but you will not give him the goddamn satisfaction.

he presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, snickering at the sharp inhale through your nose when he scrapes the thin skin with his teeth. an accidental moan slips from your mouth when he sucks a hickey into your hip, the hand that flies up to stifle it coming too late.

heart racing, a devious smile suddenly quirks your lips. "i don't need to ask," you say, tone just as mocking as gojo's. "to know geto is better at eating me out."

gojo stills against you, his mouth hot on your skin. he draws back slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. his grip tightens around your hips and you meet his gaze unwaveringly, watching as a shadow passes over his features.

he cocks his head, looking all the world like a predator about to snatch his prey.

"you know," he begins, and there's nothing joking or lighthearted in his tone this time. "suguru got to have his dessert, but i never got to have mine."

there's no time to ready yourself before gojo's mouth is on you, his tongue sliding inside to your centre without hesitation. your hips jerk up and he's holding you down as he licks into you, tongue caressing your walls. you cry out, one hand gripping the sheets and the other twisted in his hair. you're struck by the thought that he can probably taste himself but judging from the way he's eating you out, he clearly doesn't care.

gojo's head is moving beneath your hand as he continues ravaging you, pulling back only for a second to release one of your hips. when his hand enters you, his fingers somehow feel even deeper than his entire length did ten minutes ago. gojo is unrelenting, pushing his index and middle fingers in and out so quickly you're choking on air. every nerve in your body has been set alight, silvery ecstasy coursing through your veins like drugs as he doesn’t stop.

he's suctioned his lips around your clit, not coming up for air as his hand pumps inside of you. gojo's mouth is warm and wet as he licks and he doesn't let up even when you spasm, his forearm firm across your pelvis to hold you down while his fingers hit your spot, again and again.

you can't even moan because you can't breathe. your eyes are scrunched shut and your back is arched off the bed. you don't have to look to feel his nose pressed into the top of your mound as gojo eats you out like he's fallen ill and your folds are hiding the antidote.

you're just about to come and he stops all at once, removing his hand with a squelch and releasing your clit from between his lips. you blink blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you peer down at him. gojo's got a challenging look on his face, staring up at you resolutely.

"say please," he says, and you're about to shake your head when he leans closer to you, lips gleaming and chin slick. he trails a finger through your folds, dripping from how close you are and his own saliva. gojo's fingertip circles your clit without touching it, his touch featherlight.

"if you want to come," his voice is low, without mirth. "say it."

every cell in your body has been besieged by want and it seems like he can tell, the little shit. the corner of his mouth curls upwards when he pulls back and your body involuntarily lurches up, like it's following him. you're stubborn and you hate losing but you also really, really fucking need to finish under his tongue.

you bite your lip, the haze in your mind leaving you thoughtless save for one aching need. gojo's blue eyes flash and you're suddenly reminded of the snake, right before it entices eve into eating the apple.

his mouth is set in a firm line, expression resolute. there’s fire simmering beneath your skin and you’re absolutely burning with it, tossing your pride aside as the word finally leaves your mouth.

"please," you choke out, and his mouth splits into a smug grin, teeth shining as brightly as his hair. you only have a moment to feel intense annoyance before gojo's lips are back on yours and the feeling is instantly replaced with mind-numbing pleasure, every endorphin in your brain releasing all at once.

he's thrown your legs over his shoulders, jaw working furiously while his tongue licks into you. gojo's long fingers slip back inside of you seamlessly, aided by how wet you are and his saliva. his other hand leaves your hip and he spreads your folds with his fingers, pushing your clit out and creating the perfect conditions for him to latch his lips around it and suck.

"oh, god," you wail, both hands fisting in his air and toes curling over gojo’s shoulders. you’re heaving shallow breaths but he doesn't stop, his fingers plunging in and out of you as he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing and teeth nipping gently at the bud. you’re absolutely drowning in it, choking on air and limbs jerking when you cry out and come. your thighs squeeze his head and he probably can't breathe but you don't care and neither does he as gojo basically lets you fuck his face, taking all of you and then some.

it just keeps going, and going, and going. gojo doesn't come up for air, suckling at your clit even as you sag back onto the bed, spent. he slowly withdraws his head from between your legs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. geto reappears, his body damp, and you crack an eye open to appraise his lithe form.

"she said i'm better at eating her out," gojo winks conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows at you and hopping off the bed to stand up.

you don't have the strength to rebut but you don’t have to because geto rolls his eyes, climbing onto the bed to help you sit up. "i'm fairly certain she didn't."

geto reaches into a bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and raises it to your lips, his other hand supporting your back as he helps you drink.

"we're giving you another break," geto's voice is soft but his eyes are dark as you nod weakly, water trickling down your chin. geto’s touch is tender on your jaw as he thumbs at the droplets, taking the bottle from you when you're done and propping you up with a pillow. he leans in close, his loose hair falling into his face, to stroke your cheek, gaze never leaving yours.

"watch closely, okay?" he says, and you have the feeling that it isn't a question, despite being phrased as one. you're sitting on one side of the bed, which is massive enough that all three of you and probably a few more could lay comfortably side-by-side with enough room to spare. gojo turns on the fireplace, the embers crackling to life as he draws the curtains closed, casting the room in a warm glow.

gojo walks back to the bed with palpable intent guiding his footsteps, blue eyes fixed on geto. with eyes only for each other, you watch as gojo climbs onto the bed and on top of geto, whose palm has come to rest around gojo's waist, their gazes locked.

a soft sigh falls from geto's lips when gojo begins pressing tender kisses down his neck. touching him in an achingly affectionate way that seems almost uncharacteristic, gojo's hands are reverent as they hold geto’s body close. they're both achingly hard again but there's nothing rushed about the way gojo's lips are moving against his skin, every hitched breath and shuddering exhale deafeningly loud in the silence of the room.

gojo takes his time, making sure there’s not an inch of geto’s body left unmarked by his lips. he’s everywhere— at geto’s ribs, his navel, his thighs, his hipbone. the sound of geto sighing wafts into your ears like smoke, and gojo parts his legs slowly, palms on the inside of his knees. you watch gojo kneel between his legs like he’s praying, taking a long moment to stare up at geto, who meets his gaze unblinkingly. there’s a long moment where they just breathe together, having another silent conversation meant for the two of them alone.

you have the inescapable sense that you’re being let in on something precious, confirmed by the careful way gojo dips his head down in between geto’s thighs. he brings geto’s legs over his shoulders and geto reaches down to stroke his hair, carding his fingers through the soft strands. from where you’re sitting beside them, gojo’s lowered head is obscured by geto’s thighs, but the way geto inhales sharply through his nose lets you ascertain the moment gojo’s tongue enters him.

the way gojo licks into him is almost alien to the feral manner in which he was eating you out earlier, all tender kisses and measured swipes of his tongue. it’s like he’s a different person, his touch delicate on geto’s skin as he keeps his legs spread, head moving unhurriedly between his thighs. geto’s eyelids have fluttered closed, his dark hair pooled around his head as gojo continues lapping at him like gentle waves against a serene shore.

the only noises in the room are geto’s slow breaths and the wet sounds of gojo’s mouth, geto’s hardness untouched between them. he hasn’t made any move to touch himself and neither has gojo, and you watch as his body ripples with bliss, toes flexing over gojo’s shoulders.

after several long minutes, gojo lifts his head, dropping soft kisses up geto’s thigh as he lays his legs back down onto the bed. geto is breathing heavily, forearm slung over his eyes, as gojo leans over to open the bedside drawer, pulling out another bottle of water. he tips his head back, pouring water into his mouth and swishing it around before swallowing, capping the bottle and closing the drawer. he angles his body back over geto, touch featherlight across his clavicle.

geto shivers when gojo ghosts a finger down his sternum, closing his eyes when gojo takes his lips in his own. he has one hand on gojo's shoulder, the other sliding up into his hair as their mouths move languidly together. gojo has tugged one of geto's legs around his waist, slow and deliberate, not at all similar to the way he did the same to you earlier. geto arches into him, and their bodies are so intertwined that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, like they've merged into one.

they're so close, in fact, that it takes you a full minute to realize gojo has been inside of geto for quite some time, his hips moving fluidly as geto wraps his arms around his shoulders and crosses his ankles behind gojo's back. his thrusts are measured, unhurried, and geto's eyes close when gojo dips his head down to nuzzle at his neck.

judging from the way he takes all of gojo effortlessly, you think that geto must have prepped in the shower. from your vantage point, you can see the muscles of gojo's back shifting as he moves, geto exhaling loudly as gojo gently picks up the pace, thrusting slowly like they could do this for the next ten, hundred, or even thousand years. the only thing you can hear are their measured breaths, the bed silent as gojo carefully brings his hips forward again and again.

geto makes a low noise and gojo understands, leaning back to lift geto's ankles onto his shoulders. it's only after he fills up geto for the dozenth time that gojo dips down, his hips never faltering, to capture geto's lips in his own. their mouths move against one another as their bodies are joined, geto's palms pressed flat to gojo's chest and gojo's hands wrapped around geto's thighs.

you watch them make love and it's breathtakingly intimate, breath hitching in your throat when they break apart and geto tucks a strand of gojo’s hair behind his ear. a slow smile spreads over gojo's face, nothing at all like the feral grin that split his lips earlier. he presses a tender kiss to the inside of geto’s calf, tilting his hips up and and letting out a soft chuckle when geto inhales sharply and his eyes snap shut, toes curling and fingers flexing against gojo's chest.

he still hasn't reached between geto's legs and you're starting to think geto must have the stamina of a fucking horse after being sucked and fucked both ways. geto opens his eyes and he meets gojo's gaze, who once again doesn't need words to understand. he pulls out of geto as smoothly as he entered him, climbing off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

geto sighs deeply, still on his back. for a long minute it's just the two of you in the quiet, and you twitch, heat pooling between your legs. he's on top of you in the next moment, pushing away the pillow supporting your body to lay you flat on the bed. "you were watching, right?"

you nod, thinking that it must be evident from how wet you are. geto's hands are braced on either side of your head and he's pulled your legs over his hips, his hair tickling your neck as his head bows down. he's radiating warmth and you catch a whiff of the same versace cologne, musky as he licks an unhurried stripe up your neck.

the energy in the room is charged and you watch his biceps tense, your gaze dropping to the firm muscle of his chest as the firelight lends his body an otherworldly halo. tilting your chin up, geto doesn't look away when he slides into you, his hips meeting yours in one deliberate thrust. your world has been reduced to one point of contact and you're melting into oblivion as geto stays unmoving deep inside of your wet heat, anchored by your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

you're staring so deeply into his eyes that you could drown as he just stays there, completely still as your walls clench around him. your mouth is an inch from his own, breaths mingling in the quiet. the room is completely silent save for the distant hum of the shower and the crackle of the fireplace, tempered by your shallow breathing. geto looks at you through hooded eyelids, tingles shooting down to your toes as he visibly holds himself back, trembling with the effort. you’re acutely aware of your heartbeat, thundering in your ears.

when geto finally draws back and brings himself into you again, it's so good you could cry. the sex is made even more intense by the way he continues to stare through you, dark eyes glittering. never breaking eye contact, he purposefully snaps his hips again, and again, and again, each measured thrust metered by the sighs that escape your lips. your hands slide down from his neck and you can feel the muscle and sinew of his back shifting while he moves, your every sense overtaken by him as he continues to roll his hips. every time his head brushes your cervix your body undulates with pleasure, reducing you to a puddle in his arms.

geto lowers his head, breath hot against your neck, and you think about the fact that he’s the only one who hasn’t come yet. your bodies are pressed together and you can feel every inch of him as he moves inside of you, deliberate and restrained. you can tell he’s yearning for more but he doesn’t let himself have it, tensely grasping your jaw when you arch up into his chest. he doesn’t pick up the pace even when you rest your hands on his ass, the muscle flexing beneath your fingers as he just keeps going, each thrust calculated and purposeful when he slides in and out of you. chest to chest, you breathe with him, his body firm beneath your palms. he's staring endlessly into your eyes, his own so dark that they could hold the universe.

you think you could come, just like this, and it's almost like geto can read your thoughts because he stops all at once, pulling out and leaving you devastatingly empty. you’re aching at the loss but distracted by gojo as he suddenly reappears, water dripping in rivulets down his chest. geto holds a hand out behind him, accepting the lube without looking.

"you said you were good with everything, right?" geto turns to glance at you, who can once again only nod in response. geto takes your hand to bring you into an upright position, gojo going to sit behind you and it's reminiscent of before, with his damp skin pressed to your shoulder blades and geto between your legs.

geto squeezes lube onto his fingers, rubbing his palms together to warm them up. he looks up at you through his lashes, dark and daring.

you nod, just once, and geto’s first finger enters your ass with so much confidence that it feels like this is his fucking profession. gojo's palms are again around your breasts, mouth hot on your nape. your breath hitches in your throat when geto adds another finger, scissoring them inside of your ass, his other hand tight on your thigh. groaning low and long, your palms come up to rest on top of gojo's hands as his tongue laps wetly at your skin. he suddenly bites at your shoulder and you don't have the energy to swat at him, making a harrumph sound when he chuckles into your neck.

"you're up to three fingers now, did you know that?" geto says quietly, and you glance down at his wrist as it moves between your legs. damn, he's right.

geto's other hand smooths down your thigh, palm warm on your skin. "you're doing so good."

you can feel geto moving his hand inside of you as gojo presses a lingering kiss to your nape, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest, his legs encasing both of yours. his warmth envelops you as you just breathe, geto's fingers stretching you out.

you feel gojo smile into your skin. "the little lady must be tired, huh?"

your eyes are closed but you make a hmph noise, still lucid enough to retort. "i'm not a little lady, you dickhead."

gojo laughs, a hot puff of air against your neck, his arms snug around your waist. "i was talking about your clit."

chuckling breathlessly, you tip your head onto gojo's shoulder as geto continues scissoring his fingers inside of you. "okay, you're not wrong with that one."

one of gojo's arms slips out from their embrace and he leans to the side, opening the bedside drawer. his other arm suddenly retracts from around you too and your eyes snap open as your hands are yanked behind you, the click of handcuffs thunderously loud when they lock around your wrists.

you swallow hard, tugging on the restraints behind your back. nope, they're tightly secured. your heart is racing as geto removes his hand from your ass, gifting you with a view of his muscled back as he stands up and walks into the bathroom.

"first time being cuffed?" gojo asks knowingly from behind you, tracing a finger down your arm. you shiver, nodding stutteringly to the empty space in front of you. gojo rotates you in his lap to face him, your thighs on top of his own. the scent of his cologne is distinct, the notes of vanilla intensified by your proximity.

gojo lowers his head to brush his nose against yours, and you absolutely thrill at the danger in his eyes when he leans back. "it takes a lot of trust," he says lowly, glancing down at your body. gojo looks up at you, gaze dark and rife with intent. "and we don't take that lightly."

he moves you both further down the bed, laying flat once he has enough room. you're sitting on his thighs and you feel him beneath your leg, hard and wanting.

geto's palms are cold and wet around your waist when they startle you from behind and you jolt, shuddering when he presses a lingering kiss to your nape. you're sopping again already and you want nothing more than to reach forward and snatch gojo by the shoulders to drag his lips onto yours but you can't.

wrists cuffed, your body is trapped between them with gojo at your front and geto at your back. icy anticipation shoots through your veins and lights a fire in your core. you're completely at their mercy now.

gojo sees it on your face and he doesn't make you ask this time as he lifts your thighs up to guide himself inside, not stopping until the flat plane of his hipbones are pressed against the swell of your ass. mouth wet on your neck, geto bites at your shoulder, reaching around to pinch a nipple before withdrawing his hand, the bed dipping as he climbs off.

gojo's grip is firm on your hips and your knees rest outside each of his thighs, wrists still bound behind your back. the next breath you release stutters as it leaves your lips, yet gojo doesn't move. you grind down onto him, lips puffy from overuse, and take the opportunity to luxuriate in being filled up. it's too fucking good, gojo nestled so deeply inside of you that you can feel him in your sternum.

he slowly raises your thighs up from below, bringing you back down just as carefully. you bite back a whimper, every sense heightened by the way gojo and geto can do absolutely whatever they want to you right now. he brings your hips together again, gradually picking up the pace when you openly groan, breasts bobbing as you ride him.

"she takes it so well, doesn't she?" geto says from behind you, the bed shifting as he climbs on again. gojo makes a noise of agreement, hands moving to your waist to steady you. geto cups your ass, urging you on to help you ride gojo more thoroughly.

"like she was born for it," gojo agrees, squeezing your waist in his hands. one of his fingertips wanders up to your breast, dancing around a nipple. you gasp, wrists straining against the cuffs as gojo retracts, his hand rejoining the other at your waist.

you're moving together and gojo is right there every time you sink back down, thrusting up to meet you. he was right, your clit is tired, and you think that maybe you could come from this alone if he just keeps going. there's a click of a cap, the sound of lube being pushed out of a bottle, but you barely hear it, your nerves strung tight with sensation.

all of a sudden, there are palms on your spine, pressing you down onto gojo’s chest as he continues pumping his hips, his balls making a lewd sound when they slap your ass. you have no choice but to comply and you choke on air as gojo doesn't stop, the angle changing when you slant forward and allowing him to hit your spot. with your wrists behind your back, you would have fallen onto him but gojo is holding you up, one palm warm around your waist and the other supporting your shoulder.

he's fucking you earnestly now, your face an inch above his own. gojo's breathing hard, sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat as your bodies undulate against each other. once again, you ache to take his lips in yours but he doesn't let you, keeping you in place as he keeps pounding himself into you. you’re drunk with it, throwing your head back as pleasure radiates out from your core.

there's movement behind you as geto rises up on his knees, one of his hands resting on your ass as it moves up and down. he pushes your spine down even more, raising your ass in the air and gojo is ready, meeting you with his tongue and licking into your mouth. ass up and face down, your veins are flooded with icy hot anticipation and you moan into his teeth, arms twisting futilely behind your back as the cuffs hold you in place.

time grates to a halt when geto's tip breaches your ass, splitting you open from behind. you choke against gojo's lips, who stops moving, breaking away to let geto enter you properly. he's still holding you up as your head falls forward, dropping towards your chest.

"you okay?" gojo's voice is soft but laden with concern, one of his hands coming up to grasp at your jaw. he lifts your chin to meet his eyes and you're in a daze, the pressure overwhelming as geto continues pushing into you for what feels like an eternity. you nod jerkily, chin moving in his hand, and gojo brings you down to his chest, holding you close as geto keeps going until he's fully inside you at the other end.

there's a long moment where you just breathe, face pressed into gojo's shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you. if you thought you felt full before that was nothing compared to how you feel right now. you're absolutely stuffed to the brim and there's no room left in your lungs for oxygen, every cavern and crevice of your body filled to the brim with nothing but them.

it's not quite painful but it definitely is a lot, both men shoved in to the hilt. there's only a singular velvety wall separating them and you can feel gojo and geto pressed against each other inside of you. they're still not moving, gojo's palms smoothing up and down your back as he and geto let you adjust to their simultaneous penetration.

you shift your weight and your senses are instantly overwhelmed in a way you've never felt before, every fibre of your being set alight with sensation as hot ecstasy erupts throughout your body. drooping further into gojo's shoulder, you let out a primal groan, unable to produce speech. he makes a knowing noise deep in his throat, a low mhmm-hmm, and gently props you up, holding your torso above his own. the motion moves both of them inside of you and you have to bite back a genuine wail as you feel their thicknesses rub together, hot and hard between your walls.

"just tell us when," gojo says, supporting your entire body like you weigh nothing. geto's palms are warm on your hips from behind and he strokes, soothing. "there's no rush."

geto makes an affirmative sound, the noise loud in the pin-drop silence. you would say something but you're devastated by proximity, gojo inside of you one way and geto in another. your entire being has been subsumed and you're lost in the ocean of their bodies, drifting in the warmth of their hands, the slowness of their breaths, the distinct smell of expensive cologne and sex.

carefully patting your hip, you blink your eyes open as geto gently brings you to the surface. gojo is looking at you, unhurried and steady, and you can feel the same surety radiating from geto behind you.

you heave a shuddering breath, feeling them beneath your skin, in your bones, as they reach into the deepest caverns and crevices of your body. you've never been more certain of anything else in your life when you look at gojo’s face, exhaling loudly to say one word.

"move."

they don't have to be told twice. gojo pulls out of you in the same instant as geto, both snapping their hips forward to meet at the centre of you. the cry that escapes your mouth is deafening, and the sound is punched out of you again, and again, and again as they thrust together, filling you up beyond measure. you feel like you're going to overflow, brain short-circuiting and body sagging in gojo's hands as he keeps holding you up while he moves alongside geto.

geto quickens his pace and their timing changes, gojo plunging into you in the moment that geto draws himself back. you're not empty for a single second and you fucking love it, choking on air when gojo cranes his neck down to lick your areola. the sounds the three of you are making are absolutely filthy, heavy panting and skin slapping skin as your bodies move together. it's almost like gojo and geto are connected through you and you’re punch-drunk, body moving forwards and backwards on their lengths as they fuck you simultaneously.

you have hands all over you, geto's fingers digging into your hips tight enough that you'll have bruises tomorrow, gojo's arms wrapped around your torso with his palms flat on the skin of your back. you're delirious with it, eyes rolling back as gojo pushes you into a more upright position and in doing so shoves you onto geto, who thrusts forward at the same moment that gojo hits your spot. one of them inside of you was overwhelming but both feels world-ending, pleasure erupting from everywhere and flowing all the way into your fingers and toes.

you're utterly incapable of speech at this point and you're spewing nonsense; things that sound like words but aren't, guttural moans pouring out of you like rain. your breasts are bouncing furiously and you've never felt like this in your life, each man fucking one of your holes like it's his last day on earth.

arms spasming in the restraints, you keen, high and loud. something visceral has taken over you and the pace they've set inside of you is so much yet somehow still not enough. you need to touch yourself but you can't and you want more, you fucking need more.

"h—harder," you choke, straining against the cuffs. you're aching with desire and burning for release as your entire body is pulled taut by a string that threads through all three of you. "fuck me harder."

the atmosphere in the room changes immediately. gojo's eyes flash and his fingers flex around your waist, the bed shifting as he presses his heels into the mattress to pound into you from below. geto speeds up behind you, thrusting into your ass uninhibited. you can feel them sliding together inside of you and you're fucking choking on air, spluttering as they piston in out of you at light speed.

you're suddenly yanked backwards when a hand grabs you by the cuffs, geto's grip a vice around your wrists. he doesn't stop pushing himself inside of your ass, using your weight as leverage as he leans away to thrust deeper. his free hand seizes a fistful of your hair, pulling your head backwards and shooting tingles of prickly pleasure down to your toes. with your back bowed, you're basically suspended above gojo, geto's position and his hold on your wrists creating an equilibrium between the two of you that lets him support your weight.

the position has consequently raised your face above gojo’s mouth, who hungrily claims your lips with his own while he continues pulling your hips down onto himself from below. you're teary-eyed from sensory overload, gasping against gojo's lips as geto keeps snapping his hips forwards into you, your folds squelching lewdly as gojo does the same. the scent of their cologne and the smell of sex hangs heavy in the air, stifling your lungs as you struggle to suck down air.

“do—don’t,” you rasp into gojo’s mouth, drunk with the sensation of two hot, hard lengths moving together inside of you. “don’t —ungh— stop.”

the friction is delicious and it seems like geto thinks so too, his breaths growing laboured behind you. a gasp is punched out of your lungs when he releases your hair to slap your ass hard , the crack audible even amongst all the noises the three of you are making. geto lets go of your wrists to dig his fingers into your hips once more, forcing your spine into a slope as he brings you back onto himself at a punishing speed. gojo’s length keeps rubbing into his inside of you and geto is absolutely losing himself in it, fucking you carnally as you feel more than see him finally approach climax.

gojo breaks away and he isn't looking at you anymore, staring past your face at geto, whose eyes are scrunched shut as he jackrabbits his hips. the way he's moving and the sounds he's making are borderline animalistic, all grunts and heavy breathing. geto is unraveling, his movements turning frantic and you can't do anything but take it as he pushes into you over and over again, single-mindedly chasing his own release.

gojo is still thrusting up into you and from the way he's tensed up you can tell that he's close too, but he's not focused on your pleasure or his own right now. his eyes never leave geto, whose lips have parted as he lets himself pump his hips freely into your ass. your entire body jolts from the movement, anchored by gojo's firm arm around your waist and his length still moving inside of you.

"suguru," comes gojo's voice, pointed and direct. geto opens his eyes and looks at gojo, who's wearing the most serious expression you've ever seen on his face. gojo's tone leaves no room for argument when he speaks.

"come."

geto makes a strangled noise and then it's happening all at once, his rhythm stuttering as his balls tighten and he finally, finally orgasms. he's spurting hotly into your ass and it's neverending— geto just continues coming, filling you up with his seed as his body jerks violently, wracked with pleasure.

inside of you, gojo's length has continued to press against geto’s throughout his climax, and he doesn't stop thrusting even as geto comes down. he actually speeds up when geto begins to soften inside of your ass, sitting up and dragging you onto his lap after geto pulls out.

the desire to rub your clit is so overpowering that you feel like you might actually die. your head twists despairingly over your shoulder, trying to implore geto to take your cuffs off, when a firm hand grabs your chin and turns your head back around.

gojo's gaze is unwavering as he releases your chin to grab the flesh of your ass, thrusting up and ignoring your eyes blown wide in need.

"don't look at him," his voice is even as it cuts through the frenzied wail that escapes your clenched teeth. "look at me."

you're struggling to comply because you've hit your limit— it's all too fucking much, geto’s come is slippery between your cheeks and you’re aching so hard it hurts because you need to come now. you’re gasping so deeply that it sounds like you’re choking but he doesn't care, bouncing you in his lap even as you whine from oversensitivity.

"didn't you hear me?" it sounds like a question but gojo isn't asking. you can't form words, rendered incoherent by the hurricane of sensation. you can feel him getting close too but he supersedes his own desire to finish, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

gojo's fingers tighten around your jaw, his tone just as unforgiving.

"look. at. me. "

it's akin to weathering a torrential downpour when you muster up every ounce of strength left in your feeble body to open your eyes, meeting gojo's unblinking gaze. you're struggling to suck down air while he stares into your soul, slamming you down onto himself for the last time as he spills deep inside of you, coming so hard his eyes roll back in his head. you're still moving in his lap and you're babbling incoherently as he fills you to the brim, his load and geto's separated only by a thin wall inside of you.

gojo exhales harshly, pumping his hips through the aftershocks as you milk him dry. you're trying not to let the despair show outwardly on your face and you're tugging despondently at the cuffs, thrashing so hard in the restraints that your wrists are bruising. it's only because your eyes are open that you see the wicked grin suddenly quirk gojo's lips, and you're powerless to do anything as he abruptly shoves you backwards into geto's waiting arms.

"you didn't think we forgot, did you?" gojo asks devilishly. geto's hands are warm around your chest and his fingers are pinching your nipples as gojo thrusts up, hard, and directly rails your spot at the same moment his hand darts down to thumb at your swollen clit.

the tension inside your core snaps like a rubber band and the sensory processing centre in your brain implodes instantly, every cell in your body igniting all at once. the raw ecstasy that courses through your veins is so visceral that you feel high, floating somewhere outside of your body as it just doesn’t stop. you barely register that you’re releasing wave after wave of liquid around gojo as your limbs convulse helplessly against geto's chest, every fibre of your being utterly consumed by sensation. the last thing you hear before passing out is gojo's breathless laughter, blackness engulfing the edges of your vision as you fall endlessly into geto's arms.

*****

you don’t know how much time has passed when strong arms scoop you up, wrapping around your shoulders and under the backs of your knees, carrying your limp body like you weigh nothing. your hand falls toward the floor and you absently wonder when the cuffs were taken off, your other arm folded into a warm chest. head lolling towards a collarbone, the scent of jasmine permeates the corners of your subconscious. you’re distantly aware of being carried into the bathroom, cradled with painstaking care.

there’s movement around you, the sound of footsteps and taps being turned on, the slow rush of water as it fills up the tub. your eyes are still closed when you’re carefully passed from one pair of arms to another, enveloped by warm water as you’re settled against the smooth skin of a chest, arms wrapping securely around your middle.

you’re resting on top of firm thighs, enveloped by warmth. you would open your eyes but you can’t because your body isn’t listening, limbs unresponsive and head thick with cottonwool. low sounds are falling from your lips, incoherent murmurs punctuated by the air you forcibly drag into your lungs, made nearly impossible because every fibre of your being is utterly spent. you’re suspended in the water and in this moment in time, succumbing to the black hole created by the vortex of sensation. you’re anchored by the body holding you close, palms around your middle and skin against your spine. a soft kiss is dropped on your nape before your head is gently tilted onto the smooth plane of a shoulder, your throat exposed.

behind your head, there are hands lathering up your hair, working shampoo into your roots and massaging your scalp. you make a satisfied noise, deep in your throat as the scent of citrus fills the room. shampoo is smoothed all the way to the ends of your hair before the hands retract and you hear footsteps walk around to the other side of the tub, the water rising as another body steps in. once again, you’re passed to waiting arms, a hand settling around your midsection while the other supports your spine. another pair of hands begins to wash the product out of your hair from behind as you’re held chest to chest, rinsing your hair with the bathwater until all you can smell is citrusy shampoo.

eyelids fluttering, you suddenly come face to face with geto, who’s blinking down at you. he smiles softly as gojo finishes washing your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead when you let out a gratified sigh. limbs still immobile, the water moves around you as he carefully hands you back to gojo, who’s ready at the other end of the tub. your body is completely pliant as gojo positions you slightly in front of him, leaving enough room between the two of you for his hands to rest comfortably on your shoulders, his thighs beneath yours.

you sigh again, closing your eyes when gojo kneads the flesh of your shoulders, applying enough pressure to release the tension but not so much that it’s painful. bringing your feet onto his lap, geto presses his knuckles into the sole of your foot, dragging them down when you exhale. they massage you like you’re precious, every touch considerate. you melt, relaxed both by the water and their slow hands.

geto releases your feet and then there’s the sound of a pump, gojo still holding you up by the shoulders while geto begins to gently work soap into the curves and angles of your body, hands delicate on your skin. in the same moment, you hear gojo squeeze something onto his hands, fingers moving to your hair as he threads conditioner through the strands.

blinking blearily, you raise a weary hand to your forehead, rubbing at a tender spot in the centre. geto gently catches your wrist in one hand, guiding it away from your face.

“let us take care of you,” he says softly, submerging your hand beneath the surface of the water. “all you need to do is rest.”

gojo is rinsing your hair again and geto’s thumbs are rubbing tender circles into your temples, easing the hazy feeling in your mind. you’re trying your damnedest to keep your eyes open but you’re surrendering to exhaustion by the second, eyelids drooping as gojo finishes washing your hair. geto takes you in his arms once more when gojo stands up, climbing out of the tub to dry off.

“you did so well,” geto murmurs into your neck. you would reply but your tongue is leaden, limbs loose as gojo lifts you out of the water, his chest warm against your cheek as he walks you both out of the bathroom and toward a waiting towel on the bed. he lays you flat before carefully unfolding your body to start the process of drying. the towel is fluffy and plush against your flesh and gojo takes great care in touching you, his breathing steady while he caresses your skin through the towel.

being cleaned up has tired you out and you’re losing your grip on consciousness, head heavy as your eyes close. there are hands supporting your back, raising a bottle to your mouth and gently parting your lips to help you drink. the water isn’t as much gulped as it is poured down your throat, cold seeping into your core. the chill is quickly replaced by a warm blanket, tugged up to your shoulders, and the sensation of two bodies, one bracketing either side of you.

you’re warm with sleep, listening to the measured draw of their breaths as they inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale again. there’s a palm on your spine and another on your side as you fall into the abyss, content to let the yawning mouth of exhaustion swallow you whole.

*****

when you wake up several hours later, you have no idea how much time has passed. the bed is empty save for you in the middle, cushioned by a border of pillows. you’re still naked but warmed by the cocoon of the blanket, which has trapped heat beneath its surface. collecting yourself, last night comes back to you all at once, flashes of hot mouths and firm hands and quick tongues. it was by far the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and probably also the best sex you will have until the end of it.

you sit up, realizing that you’re so hungry you could definitely consume an elephant. your stomach rumbles in agreement and you’re starving but you almost don’t want to leave the bed to bear the cold world outside, the high thread count and goosefeather pillows enticing you to come back even as you stand up. there are clothes laid over a chaise in the corner; upon closer inspection, you see a comfortable bra and underwear, along with a sweater and leggings. your dress from last night is folded neatly, your lacy bra and fancy panties tucked discreetly into a bag beside it.

glancing down at your body properly, you notice for the first time the bruises around your wrists, which are rubbed raw. you peer down at your chest, which is similarly bruised. still naked, you make your way to the bathroom, gasping at the sight of your body in the mirror.

there’s no unmarred skin left on your neck; it’s absolutely littered with hickeys and bruises. your thighs are in a similar state, and you twist around to inspect your back, lovebites and marks scattered across your shoulder blades. your ass is bruised red and purple in the shape of fingerprints, the fading handprint impossible to miss across one of your cheeks. dimly, you register a dull throb between your legs. departing from the bathroom, you can’t help but be impressed because damn, they went to town on you.

you tug the sweater over your head and pull the leggings on, both from designer brands. picking up your dress and the bag, you take a second to marvel at the stunning view before you leave. the residence is situated so high into the sky that you’re struck by the ridiculous thought that they both literally and figuratively took you to cloud nine.

the suite is even more opulent in the daylight, white marble gleaming and tall arches cavernous as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen. gojo is perched on a barstool when you round the corner, tapping on his phone. geto is at the stove, flipping something in a pan.

gojo perks up at the sound of your footsteps, spinning around in the stool. “the beast awakens!”

you make a face at him, setting down your bag and dress onto the counter. “one of us is a beast, and it’s definitely not me.”

gojo titters, spinning in his chair. “i knew my gut was right when i spotted you.”

there’s a plate piled high with pancakes waiting for you, still warm. syrup and butter are off to the side and you wince when you sit down, pain radiating from your ass even though the barstool’s leather is soft.

geto turns around, holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says kiss the cook, but don’t touch the buns! the concerned expression on his face makes you bite back your smile.

“you okay?” he asks, unconvinced when you nod. his brow furrows as he looks at you, scanning your body. “we went really hard last night, i’m sorry. you’re going to be sore for a while.”

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” you say, picking up a knife and fork to dig into the pancakes. “i’ve never enjoyed anything more in my life.”

geto chuckles, turning back to the pan. “i’m glad. we had a really good time, too.”

you’re eating the pancakes with so much fervour that gojo glances up from his phone, an impressed look on his face.

“we also have eggs and croissants, if pancakes aren’t the vibe,” geto says from the stove, his back still to you. your mouth is too stuffed with pancake to reply.

“i think she’s fine with the pancakes,” gojo snickers, puffing his cheeks in imitation and ignoring the glare you cast in his direction.

geto somehow senses that gojo is being a brat and turns around, brandishing his spatula. “the only reason we’re even having the breakfast of a kindergartner is because cavity-man over here needed his sugar fix.” he turns back around to flip a pancake presumably destined for said cavity-man’s stomach.

“dentists love me,” gojo sniffs, hopping down from the barstool. he breaks the rule emblazoned on geto’s apron and squeezes his ass from behind, letting out a squawk when geto whirls around and smacks him with the spatula.

cleaning your plate at a remarkable speed, you’re just starting to wonder where your phone and purse have gone when gojo appears with both in his hands. he makes no move to bring them to you and you sigh aggravatedly, climbing down from the barstool to take them from him yourself.

he smirks evilly, holding them high in the air and far beyond your reach. “didn’t we have a conversation about manners?”

you resist the urge to jump, mainly because your ass hurts too much to do so, and settle for scowling at gojo, who’s still holding your things tauntingly above your head. he’s so unbearably tall that any hope you have of swatting at his hands is laughable.

geto walks over and reaches up, fingers plucking your phone and purse from gojo’s hands. he ignores gojo’s indignant huff as he hands them to you.

“we’d love to give you our numbers,” he says, eyes kind. “if you’re up for it, we’d really like to do this again sometime.”

like a vampire, all you need is an invitation and you’ll just keep showing up forever. “i would love nothing more.”

standing in front of both of them, you’re once again struck by how tall they are. gojo is leaning an arm onto geto’s shoulder, who’s still holding the spatula. they gaze at you and for a moment you’re reminded of last night. not usually one to be bashful, you duck your head, biting your lip. the events of last night will be staying with you for a while.

“there’s a car waiting for you downstairs whenever you’re ready to go,” geto says, and you look up. “though we wouldn’t mind if you stayed a little longer.”

gojo pushes away from geto, striding forward to grab your wrist and drag you into the living space. he plops you down onto the couch in front of a massive tv, taking your things from your hands and tossing them beside you.

“you’re right, i’m a fucking beast at mario kart,” gojo drawls, opening something you didn’t realize was a drawer and pulling out two controllers. “i’m princess peach, of course.”

you accept the controller, rolling your eyes. “why does that make so much sense?”

gojo doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning on the switch before yelling into the kitchen where geto is still cooking. “suguru, i want extra sprinkles on my pancakes!”

“kill yourself,” geto calls back. gojo takes this reply as an affirmative and jostles your shoulder, pointing at the nintendo logo when the screen flickers to life. “you can be bowser, since he looks just like you.”

you can’t help but laugh, the smell of pancakes wafting into the room as gojo glances sideways, his eyes dancing. smiling to yourself, you think that being stood up is the best thing that ever could have happened to you.

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feyhunter78 · 3 months

Text

Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd!miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #college!miguel #college!reader #college!au #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel O’Hara #nerd miguel

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty.

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension.

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees.

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said –

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen.

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him.

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part.

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all.

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine.

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?”

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin.

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.”

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed.

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.”

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?”

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has.

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.”

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.”

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat.

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod.

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places.

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway.

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him – running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night.

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense.

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips.

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win.

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest.

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet.

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest.

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates.

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper.

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you.

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough.

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.”

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass.

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command.

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you.

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall.

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing.

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need.

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks.

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him.

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?”

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh.

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.”

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs.

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!”

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles.

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life.

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh.

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.”

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks.

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more.

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.”

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing.

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all.

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in.

If you just –

“Come for me.”

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot.

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck.

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again.

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down.

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely.

But that is something he is not capable of right now.

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse.

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them.

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days.

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open.

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off.

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest.

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.”

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission.

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands.

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again.

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you.

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you.

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.”

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end.

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him.

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips.

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick.

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you.

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,”

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.”

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips.

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb.

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls.

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning.

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs.

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth.

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth.

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?”

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.”

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.”

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s.

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted.

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open.

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week.

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you.

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release.

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.”

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking.

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted.

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his.

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken.

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels.

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake.

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek.

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change.

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs.

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles.

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock.

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.”

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you.

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession.

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?”

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck.

“Not at all.”

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while.

Noonan is annoyed.

Murphy is not.

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.”

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.”

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix #this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

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𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Javier Peña

pedro pascal has me in a chokehold and i'm not gonna apologize for it. take this smut. also, this is basically just a self insert cause i couldn't help myself

Summary: All alone at a bar after being stood up by a blind date, you catch Javier's lustful eye.

Warnings: self insert basically (I'm half Mexican so...yeah, I made reader Mexican too. sue me), alcohol and drug consumption, dancing and leaving no room for Jesus (grinding), SMUT (MINORS DNI), one night stand, fingering, oral (m!receiving), spanking, kinda mean dom!Javi

word count | 4.3k🤙🏻

You didn’t think your night could get any worse.

First, you get all dolled up just to be stood up by your date, then the friend you came to the club with abandoned you to hook up with some random guy. You hoped you’d at least meet someone here to soothe your bruised ego, but there weren’t any takers or anyone that met your standards. Yeah, tonight seemed like it would be a bust.

Unbeknownst to you, across the bar, Javier Peña couldn’t keep his eyes off you. After a rough day on the job, his partner encouraged him to come to this club to blow off some steam. He was content just hanging out with Murphy, until he saw you. The expression on your face is what caught his eye first, the way you had a permanent frown and look of disappointment. He instantly knew you must’ve gotten stood up, or broken up with. Why would anyone stand up someone as gorgeous as you? He’d never know. He really thought you were. Gorgeous. The way your eyes sparkled in the club lights, the way your lips wrapped around the rim of your margarita glass, leaving a subtle red stain with your lipgloss. Of course, he couldn’t help but notice your attire; a dress just above knee length lined with lace, hugging the form of your torso but flowing around your hips. He followed the curve of your ass down your legs until he got to your freshly pedicured feet that sported wedges that matched the dress. He hated knowing that you must’ve gotten dressed up for nothing.

You were such a stunner, Javier didn’t even register Steve was even talking to him. “Sorry, what?” He tried speaking over the music blaring over the speakers.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head as he took a swig of his beer. “You’ve been eyeing that bird ever since we got here. Just go talk to her, man.”

Javier shook his head, turning back around to face his partner. “Nah, I came here with you. It’s fine.”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, totally not believing him. “You’re so full of shit. Right now, I know the last thing you wanna be doing is spending time with little ol’ me when you could be chatting up a beautiful woman. I’m alright, thinking about heading home to my woman actually.” He finished his drink and started to get up before Javier could even respond. “Enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it after the day we’ve had. See ya on Monday.”

“But, I-” Javi’s voice trailed out the farther Steve walked away, leaving him alone and slightly buzzed. He looked back over at you, somehow looking even more pitiful and on the verge of completely giving up on fun. He sighed heavily before chugging the rest of his beer. “Fuck it.”

You didn’t hear the approaching footsteps over the music, getting startled out of your thoughts when you heard a voice from beside you. “Te ves como si te estuvieras divirtiendo.” The man beside you said, his voice straining a little so you could be able to hear him. At first glance, you thought about leaving right away, but once you got another look, this man was actually pretty attractive. He was tall, gruff looking, but his smile was sweet.

You smiled apologetically. “Lo siento, no hablo español.” You cursed yourself for never learning Spanish.

“Oh, no problem. I’m originally from the States, so. You’re not Colombian?”

“Mexican, actually.”

“Ah, muy bien.”

You giggled, taking a sip of your margarita to calm your nerves in front of this very handsome man. “Spent my whole life around Hispanics and never seemed to pick it up. My father is very disappointed in me.” His laugh made a blush bloom across your cheeks, but thankfully the lights in the club were dim enough to make sure he couldn’t notice.

“What are you doing in Colombia?”

“Holiday, invited by a friend.”

“And what brings you to this club tonight? Got a hot date?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You huffed. “Well, I was supposed to meet someone here, but he was a no show. I came here with my friend too, but said friend has ditched me tonight.”

His eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “They left you after you got stood up?”

“Oh, no, she wouldn’t do that. I told her she could, but that was before I was ghosted. She’s probably back at our hotel getting dicked down right now. So, I figured I’d stay here a while to give her some privacy or snag someone here for myself.”

“Any takers?” Javier already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

You sighed with a sad smile. “Nope. I’m completely alone here.”

He leaned in closer to you, resting his forearms on the bar stand. “Well, not anymore. Can I buy you a drink?”

You smirked. “I don’t even know your name.”

He reached out his hand. “Javier Peña.” You closed the gap, taking his course, warm hand in yours. He grinned as you told him your name, as if you just told him the secret of life. “Bonita. Two whiskeys, por favor.” He spoke to the bartender. Oh, this guy was good.

“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” You giggled.

He shrugged. “Have to be in my line of work. Plus, if I wasn’t, I’d never get laid.” You almost spat out your drink. Well, bold was an understatement.

“And what line of work would that be?”

Javier seemed to hesitate at that, scrunching his face in a frown for a brief second. “DEA Agent.” You nodded in acknowledgement, your expression plain so he couldn’t guess what your stance was. You weren’t running away immediately, so that was a good sign.

Throughout the next hour or so, you both talked each other’s heads off. Each of you telling each other about your work, hobbies, likes and dislikes, even some political stances (the alcohol may have loosen your tongues).

Then, your eyes lit up as a popular Spanish song sounded through the speakers. “Oh my god, I love this song!” You beamed, your body instantly swaying to the beat in your chair.

Javier smiled, stepping away from the bar and extending his hand. “Dance with me?”

“You’re just gonna assume I know how to dance?”

“You’re Mexican, aren’t you?”

“Half.” You chuckled nervously.

He shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you off the stool you were sitting on. “You’ll be able to keep up. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Promise.” He purred, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. Oh, he was trouble.

You let out a surprised squeal as Javier spinned you around with his hand before getting into the dance. The song was more fast paced, so you both settled on a messy salsa. Javier led you well, laughing off whenever you accidentally stomped on his foot. You had taken a salsa class before, so you weren’t too terrible. But you could tell Javier could’ve looked much better with a more experienced partner. But he didn’t choose someone else, he chose you. “See? You’re not that bad!” He shouted over the music, causing you to grin.

“Well, you’re an excellent dance partner.”

As the energy died down and a slower song came on, you and Javier stepped closer together, wrapping each other’s arm around the other as you started to sway to the music. Your heart thumped in your chest as he looked down on you with those dark, mysterious eyes. He didn’t even try to hide every glance down to your lips or your chest that was pressed up against his. Taking a look around, all the other couples on the dance floor were in similar positions, most making out which caused a blush to form on your cheeks. Javi seemed to notice as he smirked, stepping back to twirl you around, pulling your back against his chest, still keeping up with the beat.

“And what about this song? Is this another favorite?” He spoke against your ear, eliciting a shiver down your spine as you felt his breath fan across your skin.

You shook your head. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh, it’s a great song. It’s about getting to know a woman’s body for the first time.” Your eyes widened. “What she likes, how she likes to be touched, learning if she likes it slow…or rough.” You silently gasped as Javi gripped your hips tightly, pulling your ass against his pelvis, bringing one hand to press against your lower stomach. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the music or maybe it was just you, but you subtly smirked as you grinded back against him, a soft groan escaping from his lips as he tightened his hold against you.

“That does sound like a great song. I bet you know all about that, hm?”

“I am a fast learner.” He growled, running his tongue up the side of your neck, instinctively allowing your head to loll back to rest against his shoulder. You bit your bottom lip to keep in a moan that threatened to escape as his teeth dug in gently. You smiled as you felt Javier’s bulge against your ass, the music allowing you to grind against him without raising any brows.

“Should I guess what you like?”

He hummed. “If you come back to my apartment with me, you won’t have to.”

You turned back to face him, a bright smile on your face. “Will you be gentle?”

He smirked darkly. “I don’t think that’s what you want, querida.”

The both of you didn’t waste any more time in that dance club. You felt your arousal pool in your underwear as Javier all but dragged you outside to slam you against his car, his lips already brushing against every piece of exposed skin he could find before kissing you roughly, his mustache tickling. You moaned at the intensity of it, not having been laid in a long, long time. But you couldn't get too ahead of yourself, you weren’t at his apartment and you were still in public, but by how handsy Javier was being, you figured it didn’t bother him. “Are we going to your place or should I just take off my panties right now?” You giggled as you gently pushed him away, keeping him at arm's length.

“Sorry. I don’t normally take my time…” He whispered breathlessly, placing a feather light kiss on your cheek.

You smirked. “I have some weed if that’ll make you relax.”

Javier narrowed his eyes and pinched your side playfully, making you wince. “You know, I could arrest you for that.”

“Yeah. But from the hard on that pressing against me right now, you really want to get in my pants. Can’t fuck me when I’m in a jail cell.”

“I can be creative.” You let out a whimper as he smacked your ass hard, groping the fatty flesh through your dress before reaching behind you to open the passenger side door of his truck. “Get in.”

You chuckled at his demanding tone, clearly worked up, but you didn’t have the heart to tease him anymore so you obeyed. You almost flinched as he slammed the door shut, speed walking to the other side of the car and starting the engine as soon as he got in. On the road, Javier extended his hand towards you, palm facing it. You raised a brow in confusion. “The drugs.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Seriously? It was a joke. I don’t have any weed.”

Javier looked you up and down with a glance before a smirk came to his face. “So you wouldn't mind if I search you?”

“Where would I ever hide it? My bra? My cunt?”

“Scared I’ll find some?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, shifting in your seat to slightly face him, leaning up against the door as you removed your underwear but keeping your dress covering your modesty. “I’ve got nothing to hide, sir.”

Javier’s eyes darkened as he glanced between you and the road. There wasn’t much traffic, so he figured he could get away with it. He reached his hand over and patted your torso down, reaching further and further until he got to your breasts, kneading the flesh softly until his fingers dipped in past your dress and bra. You sighed out as he roamed your tits, pinching your nipples until they hardened. “All clear?” You teased, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction.

“Not yet. I have one more place to check.” You tried not to shiver as his hand trailed down your body, lifting the hem of your dress out of the way and pushing your legs apart to lay his eyes on your glistening pussy. You could hear a soft growl from him as he slid one of his fingers through your slit, your wetness gathering at your entrance quickly. “Been a while, has it?” You gasped as his middle finger started to press against your clit, heat rushing to your face and neck, contrasting against the cold window your head rested against.

“A bit, yeah.” You exhaled shakily.

Stopping at a red light, Javier’s eyes were fixed on your face as he inserted two of his fingers inside you, watching the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head briefly as your lips parted in a moan. He groaned, curling his fingers rhythmically and trying to stretch you out preemptively. “So fuckin’ tight, babygirl. Squeezing my fingers so hard.” Well, it was hard not to when his fingers were so thick and long. He definitely was an expert in this field, finding that place inside you that always had you panting and whining, which is exactly what you were doing as he paired the thrusts of his fingers with his thumb circling your clit.

“Fuck, that feels so good Javier.” You moaned, holding on to the dash for dear life as you tried not to squirm too much.

“Call me Javi.” A sudden honk of a horn jerked you and Javier out of the moment, the spotlight turned red minutes ago, causing the car behind to lose their patience. You giggled as he cursed in Spanish as he sped off, faster than before, anxious to feel all of you. With his fingers still inside you, Javi hastily parked his vehicle on the street outside his apartment, ripping off his seatbelt to lean over to kiss you sloppily. “You were close before, weren’t you?”

You nodded with a whine, the windows starting to fog with your panting breaths. You held onto his shoulder as he forced you to that peak once more, just the right move to push you over the edge. “Javi, fuck-!” You whimpered, the wet squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you echoing in the truck.

“So wet.” He chuckled darkly. “Gonna come on my fingers, querida?”

“Yes. Yes, Javi!” You moaned loudly, heat taking over your whole body as you rode out that wave of ecstasy on his fingers. Javier groaned as he watched your face contort in pleasure, it almost making him come in his jeans untouched. He grinned as he watched your slick coat his fingers and pool into his palm, pulling his hand away to see your cunt make stringy cobwebs of cum. “All clear on those drugs, agent Peña?” You joked when you noticed his oblivious fixation.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t know. I think you’ll need to join me in my apartment for a further evaluation.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Your hands shook as Javier led you up the stairs to his apartment with heavy and hot gazes towards you, almost to make sure you were following him. Like you’d ever want to leave with the promise of getting laid. He seemed to be antsy like you, fumbling with his keys and having to take a deep breath before unlocking his door. But once you stepped over the threshold, all possible nerves promptly left his body as he pinned you to his wall and kissed you passionately. You whined as his hands wandered until they gripped onto your ass, grinding his clothed erection against you.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you, hermosa.” He growled before latching onto the crook of your neck with his teeth.

“Then don’t.” You whispered shakily, palming his bulge which elicited a low, deep groan from him, the noise causing a pang of arousal to resonate through your entire body. You wanted to hear more, but Javi grabbed your wrist.

“So eager, babygirl. Want me to make you come again that badly?” He chuckled mockingly when you nodded. He led you to his bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of his bed with his lips latched onto yours. “Wanna feel those pretty lips around my cock.” He hummed as he unbuttoned his jeans. Your eyes widened and mouth watered as Javier took his cock out, thick and long. Obviously his jeans had hidden its actual size, you didn’t know if you’d be able to fit it inside. “Think you’ll be able to take it?”

“I’ve just never had someone as big as you, Javi.” That seemed to make him smirk with pride.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll go easy on you. First, at least.” Javier gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, suddenly feeling intimidated by his domineering stature; but it only turned you on even more. “You wanna suck my cock, princess?” You smiled in reply, licking your lips and leaning forwards to lick up the small bead of precum gathered on his slit, the action making him hiss softly. Making sure to keep eye contact with him, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip, wrapping your lips around the head and suckling on it gently. “Oh, you’re a tease, huh?” You yelped as Javi grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled harshly, taking advantage of your surprise and shoving his cock in your mouth. You instantly tried to relax, sucking on him until he let out a lovely moan. “That’s it. That’s it…good girl.”

His praises and moans went straight to your core, making you even needier than before. He sounded so pretty. Even if your jaw started to ache, you wanted to keep hearing his breathless noises of pleasure. You made a pretty picture, Javier thought. Your lips and tongue around his cock, looking up at him with tears spilling out the sides of your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, your moans of exertion causing a delightful vibration. He wouldn’t last much longer like this. He needed to fuck you. Now.

You gasped as Javier pulled you off his dick, kissing you roughly before removing his shirt, your lips upturning in a smile as you admired his body. “Clothes off and lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.” He ordered, and you had no problem obeying, might’ve even been a bit too eager, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your face flushed with heat as his gaze fixed on your breasts, licking his lips and smirking. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, baby.” You giggled as he pounced on you, sloppily kissing you while positioning himself in between your legs.

You bit your lip as Javier rubbed his dick in between your slick folds, gasping as the head nudged your clit. “Want you inside me so bad, Javi.” You whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face and the other bracing yourself on his shoulder as he started to slowly push in. Your head fell back to the pillow beneath you with your mouth open in a moan, Javi fully sheathing himself inside your velvety walls.

“Fuck, babygirl.” Javier groaned, his brows furrowed, trying to restrain himself from plowing into you right away. He had a vice grip on your hip, while his other hand was groping your tit. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi, please.” You whined, canting your hips upwards to try and get more friction, but he roughly pinned you down with his hands.

“Ain’t gonna last long if I do that.”

“I don’t care. Please.” You begged, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. Javier growled as he pulled out of you, flipping you over on your front, head down and ass up, pushing himself back in your pussy harshly, setting a cruel pace. “Fuck!” You groaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in a pleasured haze. He fucked you hard and slow, each thrust making you jerk and cry out every time he hit the ends of you, a loud slapping skin against skin noise echoing through his entire apartment. You’d be surprised if his neighbors didn’t come banging on his door telling you to keep it down.

“You like this better, slut?” He mocked before letting out moans of his own, the new position one of his favorites, that much you could tell.

“Yes. God, yes, Javi!” You started to prop yourself up on your elbows, but Javi pushed you back down, keeping your face pressed against the pillow.

“Keep your fuckin’ head down.” He demanded, grunting loudly with every thrust. “Anything else you wanna complain about, sweetheart?”

“Can you…can you spank me, please?” You couldn’t see him from your position, but he grinned, followed by a couple hard slaps to both your ass cheeks, making you moan in appreciation. You could tell he enjoyed spanking you, since he did it often, your skin throbbing and raw but it felt so good. His grip on your hip he used as leverage started to turn painful as opposed to the pressure it previously felt, just knowing you’d have plenty of marks afterwards, and you couldn’t wait to see the masterpiece of bruises he left on your skin in the morning.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re making it real difficult to keep it together. I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer.” You lifted yourself with your arms, trying to turn yourself on your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna watch as you come.” You smiled sweetly. Now how could Javi deny you when you looked like that? He allowed you to turn over, then he sat up on his haunches and wrapped your legs around his waist. He looked so fucking angelic from this angle, looking down at you with a pleasure ridden face, the sweat coating his body making him shine, his hair disheveled and a dark look his in eyes. The sight paired with his ruthless thrusts, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you, made your second climax of the night get closer and closer, you could almost taste it.

Javier watched as goosebumps rose all over your body, your nipples hardening and your walls clenching around him tightly, signaling you were close. If it weren’t for how close he was as well, he’d surely have an arrogant smirk on his face from how drunk you were getting off his cock. “You gonna come for me again, querida?”

“Yes, Javi!” You cried, your body starting to shake uncontrollably as the first shock waves of your orgasm washed over you. “Oh my god, fuck, I’m coming!”

Javier let out a strained moan as your walls pulsed around him, soaking his cock and your face contorting in pure euphoria. He couldn’t resist grabbing ahold of your hand, giving you an anchor to ground yourself as you came down from your high, additionally giving him something to hold on to as he started to reach his own climax. “Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside…” You whispered breathlessly. “Come inside me, Javi. I want it. I need it.”

Javier grunted loudly as his warm ropes of cum painted your walls, his muscles tensing and soft whimpers escaping his mouth as he stilled inside you, panting as if he’d just run a marathon. He surprised you by kissing you softly, then your chin, cheek, and finally your forehead. Much more tender than he previously was. You almost whined at the loss of contact as he laid beside you, immediately lighting a cigarette, offering you one, but you politely declined, claiming you had your own. Instead, you slightly sat up in the bed and pulled out a joint from your bag, smirking to yourself as you knew he’d throw a fit.

You took glances over at Javier as you lit up your joint, resisting the urge to laugh as his eyes widened at the smell, immediately snapping his head towards you with furrowed brows. “Are you really smoking grass in front of me right now?” He scolded. “Seriously? You lied to me.”

You smiled. “What’re gonna do? Handcuff me?”

His eyes darkened, setting down his cigarette in an ashtray and leaned over to hover above you.“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You only replied by taking a puff of your joint and blowing the smoke in his face. You whimpered as he kissed you hard, biting your lip until he broke skin. “You know marijuana is a gateway drug?”

“Oh, shut up!” You chuckled, putting out your joint so you could focus on kissing him. “You really gonna arrest me, Javi?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, just…just don’t do it around me, alright?”

You raised a brow playfully. “Oh, so this wasn’t just a one time thing?”

He didn’t meet your gaze. “I mean, not if you want it to be. I was going to ask if you wanted to, ya know, do this again sometime?” He spoke softly, looking back up at you with a hopeful expression.

You giggled giddily, feeling like a teenager who just got asked out by your crush. The grin that stretched across Javi’s face at your reaction made your heart thump in your chest even faster. “Of course, Javi. I’d love that.”

“Good.” He smiled, kissing you one more time.

You smirked. “Hey, maybe you could use your handcuffs on me next time.”

“Whatever your heart desires, querida.”

fuck sake

#narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena smut

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mountainsandmayhem · 3 months

Text

You're a Brat, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You play with Joel at your 25 year high school reunion to get exactly what you want. CW: Dom!Joel, Sub/Dom, blowjob, throat fucking, gagging, nipple play, Brat!Tamer, unprotected p in v (they’re in a long-term relationship), oral (f and m receiving), anal play very briefly, pet names, cream pie kink, praise kink, degradation if you squint, denial and edging, NO AGE GAP (Joel and reader are in their 40’s) A/N: I am absolutely BLOWN AWAY by the love that You're Mine and Stay Still have gotten. Truly, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart I really appreciate your likes, comments and reblogs. Hopefully you enjoy this one, as well. Dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 5.6k

Dress. Check.

Nude heels. Check.

2 daytime outfits. Check.

Drive home clothes. Check.

Make up bag. Check.

Stop worrying so much. You’re not even leaving the country, you can buy what you forgot.

“You ok?” Joel asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Just the usual pre-travel anxieties.” You say, leaning into his warmth. Your arms unconsciously cross over his, hands resting on his forearms.

“We’re not leaving the country, you can buy whatever you forgot,” you smile to yourself at how well he knows you as his lips press lightly to your temple. “Remember when I had to go out of town at the last minute before our Disneyland trip and you packed for all of us?”

“Mmhmmm,” you say. The memories come flooding in of those two little girls; one dressed as a princess from head to toe and the other refusing to take off her Darth Vader helmet. The latter was far braver on the “scary rides”, and held her sister's hand until they were both giggling and screaming with delight.

“You didn’t miss a single thing - for any of us. Including the nightlight that Sarah couldn’t be without and the granola bars that Ellie claimed were the only things she could have for breakfast.”

You turn your head and gently press your lips to his. This is the kind of love that people write about. Supportive. Caring. Complete and unwavering trust. Each person is 100% in for the other, willingly giving when the other needs to take, and never keeping score. You don’t judge the other for any sort of anxiety they might be having or help they might be needing. Partners. Through and through.

A noise from the kitchen brings you back and you break the kiss. “What is that incessant beeping?”

“That’s your phone,” he laughs while pulling out of the hug and squeezing your sides. “It’s been going off all morning. Someone is messaging you on Facebook.”

You squirm free of his wandering hands and go to brush your teeth. When you come back out to the kitchen he’s scrolling through the messages in your phone.

“Who is it?” You ask, getting your morning coffee ready.

Joel throws his head back, laughing loudly as he reads in a mocking voice, “Hi. Long time no talk. I saw your name on the guest list for the reunion this weekend. Can’t wait to catch up. Looks like you’re single. At least based on your profile. Glad to see you got rid of that goon you were dating in your 20s.”

Your profile is blank, a picture of you holding baby Ellie the day you officially adopted her is the only thing on there, and you have maybe 15 friends. Truthfully, you aren’t even sure why you have it, even in the heyday of Facebook, you weren’t exactly a share-everything-about-yourself-on-the-internet type of girl.

“Oh god,” you laugh. “It’s Zack, isn’t it?”

Joel wipes away a tear from laughing so hard. “Each sentence is its own message, but I’m a goon?” He slides your phone across the counter to you adding, “Can I punch him again when we see him?”

Years ago, while visiting your parents, Zack got a little too handsy when you ran into each other at a local pool hall. Joel was and very much still is, a ‘touch her and die’ type of lover.

You both laugh as you kiss him goodbye and head to work.

On your lunch break, you updated your profile picture to you and Joel with the girls at their high school graduation. Hopefully, Zack will get the message. By 5 pm you’re rushing home to get out the door and drive 5 hours to your old hometown.

The minute you walk into the reunion you see women’s heads turning to look at Joel. You can’t say you blame them, Joel Miller is the dictionary definition of a DILF! And tonight, in perfectly tailored black pants, a crisp black dress shirt and black tie, his slightly outgrown curls pushed back, and grey scruff perfectly trimmed, he looks hot as sin. And then, just to add insult to an already smoldering hot injury, he recently came to terms with needing glasses for driving at night. Those black frames should be illegal.

Over the last few days you’ve been sending him articles about spanking and on the drive up had an open and honest communication about what you both wanted out of it. Deep down you’re hoping tonight is your night, you’re tempted to just go back to the hotel and let him do whatever he wants. Instead, the two of you hit the bar to get a drink before finding a table to sit at.

“Who is that lady in the gold sequin dress with the black hair, almost directly behind you?” Joel asks awkwardly, sipping his whiskey.

You glance around the room, trying to not make it obvious when you catch the one person you don’t want around Joel staring right at him.

“Lucy Garfield.” You say flatly. “She’s the one that slept with Zack seconds after I left for university. I thought they were married but she is eye fucking you so hard.”

“Gross,” he laughs, his nose crinkling up in disgust. He’s so endearing when he’s joking around with you, “Don’t say eye fucking.”

You laugh, “It’s what she’s doing Joel. I wonder how long before she’s over here talking to you.”

You start pushing your chair out from the table and he grabs your leg, “Leave me alone and you’re dead to me”

“Joel,” you giggle and try to push the chair more, “I kinda have to pee though.”

“Babe, I'm serious. She scares me,” he says with a shudder. “I can feel her looking at me.”

“Oh, she’s doing more than looking…” you tease, sliding your chair back in.

“Don’t say it.”

He squirms as you lean in to his ear and whisper, “Eye fucking.”

“I hate you.”

After a few hours of catching up with old friends, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and grab another drink for you and Joel. When you come out of the bathroom Lucy is alone at your table with Joel. You can see the discomfort on his face as she shows him something on his phone. You’re not jealous or worried, but when Zack approaches you at the bar you decide to have a little fun.

“So you didn’t break up with him after all?” He’s leaning back cockily on the bar, arms crossed, eyes locked on Lucy.

“No,” you laugh while ordering drinks; whiskey neat for Joel and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for you. “I never planned to.”

“I figured. Lucy seems to take a liking to anyone you set your sights on.”

“You would know best, Zack.” You’re still facing the bar, but you see Zack glance quickly in your direction at the dig. “Any advice for poor Joel over there?”

“Don’t leave the best thing that ever happened to you for a gymnast with...” he stops speaking when he looks back to you, seeing you with one eyebrow raised as you sip your wine. “She and I are getting divorced.”

“I assumed.”

“Oh?”

And that’s when you hear it. Your song with Joel.

‘I know what you look like in the morning

Your kisses are soft and warm’

Joel looks around the room for you, when he spots you at the bar a mischievous grin crosses your face and you lean in close to Zack.

“Dance with me?” You whisper, giving him the puppy eyes he never used to say no to.

‘I can draw you with my eyes closed

Seen you with nothing on but the radio’

He places a hand on your lower back and leads you to the dance floor before pulling you in close. Huh, you think to yourself, 25 years later and still got it.

You look away from Joel and give Zack a tight lipped smile as the first verse of the song melts into the chorus.

‘I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh

The way you tilt your head for a photograph

What other guy knows you like that’

You fight the urge not to look past Zack’s shoulder and over at Joel as Zack’s voice drones on in the distance, telling you about his divorce.

‘And I can name the first guy you ever kissed’

You can’t help but sneak a glance at Joel. Zack is the first guy you kissed and Joel knows it.

‘I can name the perfume on your wrist’

Joel crosses his arms, staring at you darkly from across the room. Fuck, you think maybe you bit off more than you can chew.

‘What other guy knows you like that’

Joel stands and strides over to you.

Yes. Got him. He doesn’t look mad, if anything he’s looking at you with dangerous desire in his eyes. Your heart flutters as heat travels between your thighs.

“Babe, we gotta go.”

Zack starts to protest but you release yourself from his arms and say with a big smile, “It was lovely catching up. Thank you for the dance.”

As Joel leads you off the dance floor he growls quietly in your ear, “You’ve been a very bad girl, Little Dove.”

The car ride back to the hotel is silent. Not a word is uttered between either of you, the second the elevator door closes Joel presses you back against the wall. Towering over you, one of his hands roughly pulls down the right cup of your dress and bra, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and pointer finger.

You gasp out in pain, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares down at you. As the pain morphs into pleasure you squeeze your thighs together, your panties starting to soak through. He releases you when the elevator stops and turns his back to you, you cover your abused nipple back up before you follow him into your room.

“Clothes off and kneel,” he growls, throwing a pillow haphazardly at your feet.

“Joel-I…” you stutter out. He stalks across the room, only the discarded pillow separating you.

“I said,” he starts harshly. “Clothes off and kneel, Little Dove.”

You swallow the dry lump in your throat while sliding the zipper down the side of your black dress, letting it fall to the ground. A deep, guttural moan escapes Joel as you kick the dress aside and remove your bra and panties. You’re completely bare for him, nothing but your nude heels left.

“That’s better. Now kneel.”

You do as he says, getting into his desired position; hands on your lap and eyes aimed at the floor in front of you. He bends, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You expect to see his eyes dark and lips tight, instead, you’re met with softness, his chocolate brown eyes boring into you.

“Little Dove,” he starts, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I am going to punish you for being a brat tonight. Everything I plan to do is things we’ve talked about.”

“Like what?” You ask as your mouth goes impossibly dry.

“No, you don’t get answers tonight. You’re in trouble. Do you remember your safe words?”

You nod, “Yes sir.”

The colour coding system is how Joel prefers to do things. Red if you need to end things, yellow if you need a break or to slow down, and green to keep going.

His thumb caresses your cheek, “That’s my girl.”

Joel stands abruptly and your gaze follows him. When he looks down at you, his features are no longer soft. His eyes are almost black, eyebrows slightly knit together and jaw clenched. He snaps his fingers and points at the ground and you immediately obey, shifting your gaze back to where he prefers it. He walks across the room, uncuffing the sleeves of his black dress shirt and rolling them up his thick forearms. You hear the unmistakable sound of him removing his tie and his glasses being placed on the table.

“You were a brat tonight, Little Dove,” he says darkly. “Remind me, do I like brats?”

“No, sir.” It comes out in a nervous squeak.

Joel stares at you for a while and it’s nearly impossible to keep your eyes on the ground. If Joel had to classify himself, he’d say he was a pleasure Dom. He’d rather use pleasure until you’d beg him to stop, but pleasure is earned, and you used that song and your ex-boyfriend to get to him tonight. He saunters back over and pets your head, just as you start to close your eyes and lean into his touch he grips your hair hard and pulls until you’re once again looking up at him. A shocked yelp comes out of you as you make eye contact.

“I think you did this on purpose because you so badly want me to spank you.”

“N-no, sir.”

“No? I bet if I reached in between your legs and felt your pretty little pussy she’d be soaked for me right now. Am I right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Take out my cock, Little Dove.”

His grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as you reach up with shaky hands to undo his belt and pants. As you slide his dress pants down his thick thighs you can see him already hard under his tight black boxers. As you lower those, his thick cock springs free, brushing against your face.

“Hands on my thighs,” he barks.

You jump slightly at the harsh tone and move your hands to rest along the sides of his thighs. He moves his free hand to one of yours and taps on your hand 3 times. “You do that if you need to stop. Show me.”

You tap 3 times on his thigh like he showed you. “Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight. I wanted to please you and not punish you.”

He moves his hand to fist his cock a few times. It brushes your lips as he continues to speak. “Who do you belong to, Little Dove?”

“You sir,” you answer firmly but quietly.

“That’s right. Open.”

You lick your lips and obey his orders. He lines himself up and slides the tip of his cock in your mouth, pumping his shaft slowly with his hand, the other still locked in your hair.

“Mine,” he says it like he’s claiming you as he works more of himself into your mouth. You’re surprised how he takes his time, inching in a little before pulling back, letting you swirl your tongue around to get him nice and wet. When he’s finally all the way in, pushing against your gag reflex he groans out, “So…completely…mine.”

You look up at him through your lashes and remind yourself to relax your throat and breathe through your nose, moaning around his cock before he pulls it all the way out. Saliva falls from your mouth and he smirks at you cockily while he fucks himself with his palm, the tip of his leaking dick resting on your tongue. The salty taste of his pre cum sends a fresh wave of arousal to the apex of your thighs, you can feel it gathering on your calves that are tucked underneath you.

Without warning, Joel starts to fuck your throat. He pushes himself all the way in and you gag around him before he pulls out halfway. He continues this punishing rhythm for a while, muttering darkly about how you’re a bad girl and you deserve to be punished.

You’re taken aback by how much you fucking love it. Watching him tower above you all big and strong but you know he’s falling apart. He’s becoming putty because of you and your mouth. It’s filthy and slightly degrading, but you realize that you’re the one in control here. You could do this forever and make a mental note to find times to act out more often. Tears start to run down your cheeks as his thrusts turn sloppy. You know he’s close so you hum around his cock.

“Oh fuuuuck, baby.” He pulls himself out and steps back, strings of saliva falling from his cock and landing on your chin. Your hands hit the ground in front of you as you gasp in a full breath for this first time since he started using your mouth. The heat between your thighs is starting to become unbearable.

“What did you think was going to happen - huh?” he says in a deep and condescending tone. “That I’d spank you and then make you come?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry though, you’d do it again just to feel that gush between your thighs when he hits the back of your throat.

“Only good girls get spankings. So let me make myself very clear.” You straighten your spine and look up at him as he goes back to petting your hair.

“You are not allowed to cum.” His voice is deep and scratchy, you’re sure he could make a living by narrating erotica, but that voice is yours.

A small whimper escapes you as he continues. “I’m going to continue to use you how I want. If I think you’ve proven yourself to be my good girl, you’ll get that spanking you want so desperately. Understand?”

He almost purrs as he says good girl and it turns you feral. “Yes, sir.”

He reaches a hand to you and helps you stand. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get on the bed.”

As you walk to the bed you bring one leg up to remove your heels. “Leave them on. Hands and knees, Little Dove.”

Fuck, he knows this is your kryptonite. And fuck, you’re back to thinking that maybe you bit off more than you can handle. Joel is predictable about his Sunday plans during football season and nothing else.

After stripping off his clothes he comes up behind you, rubs the warm tip of his cock through your slit and he lets out a deep moan. Both of you can hear the wetness as he moves from your clit to your ass. “Mmmm - my bad girl clearly liked having me fuck her throat. You’re soaked for me.”

A firm hand pushes down between your shoulder blades and your upper body hits the mattress. at this new angle, everything is bare to him.

“Mine,” he says again before placing a few long, slow licks from your clit to your ass, swirling and pressing his tongue in all the right places. “So…completely…mine.”

His tongue teases your clit as he lightly teases your ass with the pad of his thumb. The heat begins to spread to your spine, the world falls away and all you’re left with is Joel. Joel and his wonderful and magic tongue. Joel and his ability to make you cum. His voice from earlier rings through your cries of pleasure, ‘you are not allowed to cum.’

“I…n-no…” you stutter, squeezing all your muscles to stop the orgasm that’s fast approaching. “That’s gonna…I’m gonna!”

“Don’t you dare, Little Dove.” He bites down on your ass cheek and you yelp in pain, but glad for the distraction from how close you were to finishing.

“Such a bad little girl tonight.” He says into your skin before continuing to tease you with his tongue, swirling your clit, moving to gently flick your ass, then back to your clit. You never know where his tongue might explore next and you find yourself mentally mapping out each aisle of your favorite grocery store with your eyes clamped shut to distract yourself.

“I wanna be a good girl,” you beg, utterly desperate to follow his rules tonight. “Please stop. I wanna be good, sir.”

“Poor thing,” he says mockingly, rising and sliding himself inside you so slowly that you feel every inch, vein, and ridge.

“Fuuuuuuuccccck,” you gasp as he bottoms out. A small, pleading ‘please’ escapes your lips but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. Your body feels like liquid at this point, every muscle relaxed and every bone somehow missing. It’s a complete state of nirvana, if only he’d let you cum.

“Not yet,” he drags out of you and slams back in, a complete juxtaposition to how he first entered you. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “This is my pussy, mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours…” you manage to whine. “oh fuck…yours Joel.”

“That’s right, babygirl. Mine. So…completely…mine.”

One of your shoes falls to the ground as he continues to slam into you. You no longer know the difference between right and left, you just know that one shoe is missing. As you reach back to touch him, he pins your hand to your lower back, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pressing his hips flush with your ass.

“No,” he says sternly. “Only good girls get to touch.”

You scream out his name, begging him to let you cum. Joel leans forward and pulls you up, still fully inside of you, he holds you still against his warm chest, the combination of your sweat and his sweat feeling sticky along your back.

“You like when I use you like this, Little Dove?”

“Yessss,” you whine. You force yourself not to roll your hips even though the need to orgasm is almost painful. The word yellow flows through your mind. You could say it. You could say it and get what you want, but you trust Joel. You trust that he has bigger and better plans for you.

“Say it,” he commands while rolling your earlier pinched nipple between his fingers.

“Use me, sir….Please. I want to please you.”

“That’s my girl. My perfect little submissive.”

He pushes you back down into the sheets and fucks you harder. The sounds of skin slapping skin and your moans and squeals fill the room. You tense every muscle again to stop the orgasm that’s right on the surface.

“Where do you want it, Little Dove?”

“Inside me, sir.”

Joel curses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby.”

“Fill me, sir.”

“Such a filthy little girl. D’you know that?” His voice is strained, you know he’s close and you just have to hold off a little longer.

“Only for you,” you say through moans and gasps.

That’s what does it and you push him over the edge with your words, the heat of his spend filling you as he lets out a loud moan. “Good fucking girl.”

He moves his hips into you a few more times, filling you so much it starts to leak out. “Fuck, takin’ me so well, soundin’ so goddamn sweet as you beg.”

He doesn’t stay in long after he cums, which you’re thankful for because you’re sure a faint breeze could make you detonate at this point. He steps back to admire the mess he’s made, using his fingers to push his cum back inside you before sitting next to your knees.

“Get over my knee.”

You rush on shaky limbs to get over this lap, wiggling your ass in nervous excitement. He uses one hand to pin your wrists behind your back. “Mmm - that’s my good girl.”

Joel uses his other hand to draw slow circles along your cheeks. His warm and calloused fingers send shivers across your body. “How many do you think you should get?”

“10,” you respond sheepishly.

Joel laughs deeply to himself. “You were a brat. Do you really think 10 is enough?”

You audibly swallow in response to what you know is a rhetorical question. You didn’t think your pussy could throb any harder, but his voice, his hands, and this position has every nerve in your body aflame.

“20, and if you behave, I’ll stop at 15.”

“Please, sir.” The anticipation is killing you.

“Ok. I am going to spank you with my hand 20 times. You are going to count and say ‘I’m sorry’ after each one. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You try not to whine, but you need to be touched,

“Give me a colour baby”

“Green,” you whisper needily.

2 sharp and quick slaps hit your ass.

“1 and 2,” you squeal, “I’m sorry”

Light finger strokes tickle along the back of your thighs and up towards the now stinging skin. Joel’s hand disappears from your body and you tense.

“Shhh,” his thumb holding your wrist strokes the soft skin. “Take a deep breath, Little Dove.”

You inhale shakily, as you try to relax on your exhale, his hand comes down again. When the two of you did your research on spanking, all the experts said you’d know the sound of a good spank, and Joel being, well Joel, has taken it to a new level of perfection. His third spank stings, but it’s quickly replaced with a fresh wave of warmth in your core.

“Three. I’m sorry,” you love how quickly he can turn you into a whining mess.

From that point you’re in a trance. You almost feel like you’re floating outside your body as Joel continues your punishment. You hear your voice counting each strike of his hand. A rush of adrenaline courses through you after each one and you can feel his spend leaking out and dripping in between your thighs.

“Eight. I’m sorry”

“Messy messy girl.” He says, swiping a finger up your thigh and through the folds of your swollen pussy, he stays away from your clit but you could scream with how good it feels. “I should make you clean this up.”

You turn your head, glancing over your shoulder to face him, readying yourself for him to slide his fingers down your throat. Instead, he licks his fingers clean and then lays 3 quick smacks across your ass.

“Eleven. Oh god,” your body jolts with the first one but by the third you’re rolling your lips into him for friction, you need more. More pain. More of his fingers. More of anything and everything he’s willing to give you. “I’m sorry.”

Joel isn’t surprised to see that you like the pain, but he is surprised by how much he likes seeing you in pain. He was hesitant about this whole thing, worried about hurting you, but you’ve never looked more beautiful. A blush lights your face and neck, a thin sheen of sweat across your body. Your squeals and cries slowly become wanton moans. He knows it hurts you, but he can also see how that pain is temporary followed by a rush of adrenaline and pleasure.

“Good job, Little Dove,” he rubs the red hand prints gently. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

You relax into his lap as his praises wash over you. You feel completely submissive to him and for the first time, you feel what he said earlier. You are his. So completely his.

“My,” SMACK

“Perfect,” SMACK

“Little,” SMACK

“Submissive,” SMACK

They happen so quickly that all you can do is moan loudly in ecstasy, heat flooding your core to the point that it’s unbearable. Pressure behind your eyes builds as your neediness grows.

“Fif-fifteen. I’m sorry, sir.” You’re squirming uncontrollably, tears threaten to spring from your eyes.

“Please - please. It huuuurts.” Joel knows it’s not the spanking that hurts, it’s the animalistic need to cum that’s causing you so much discomfort.

“There’s my good girl,” he growls, sliding 2 fingers deep inside you. He curls them forward into your tight and messy heat. The squelching of his cum mixed with your arousal fills the room.

“Does this feel good, Little Dove?”

“Please Joel,” you sob through stuttered breaths, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “P-please - don’t stop.”

“Fuck I love when you say please. Did you know that? How it makes my cock twitch hearing you whine sweetly, asking so nicely.”

He slows his fingers, he knows how sensitive you are, he can feel your pussy gripping tightly to his fingers and he wants to bring you pleasure now, not push you into overstimulation. “You took those so beautifully, Little Dove. I’m so proud of you.”

You cry out a thank you, your orgasm is right there, the heat in your stomach and spine ready to erupt and spread to the rest of your body. As you squirm on his lap you can feel his erection growing beneath you. Joel continues curling his fingers against your most sensitive spot, his other hand letting go of your wrists and moving to soothe the handprints he left. The gentleness of one hand combined with the demanding desire of the other sends your mind swirling.

“Get up, baby girl.” He slides his fingers out from you and you want to cry out and complain before he adds, “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Joel steadies you as you stand up in front of him, “Hold on, spin around.”

You do as he says, albeit slightly confused until he presses his lips to the bright red handprints he’s tattooed across your skin.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m His. So completely his.

You lay back on the bed, Joel crawling between your legs. He’s looking at you the way he used to when you first met, taking in every inch of your skin almost as if to commit it to memory. It’s the complete opposite of how he looked at you while you danced with Zack. His dangerous desire has turned to an overwhelming softness.

“Lift your hips, baby,” he slides a spare pillow under you.

His strong hands massage your hips gently as his eyes rake over your red and swollen pussy. “Oh - that looks painful, baby. Do you need me to take care of it?”

You whine out in frustration, “Please, sir. I need to cum. Please.”

He lets out a whispered ‘oh god’ at your pleas, hooking one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, the other wrapping around his waist as he lines himself up and then leans down to softly press his lips to yours. He slides inside of you slowly and you’re instantly shaking underneath him.

“Shhh, you’re ok,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you harder, rocking his hips with perfect precision. “I’m right here. I got you, baby. I got you.”

The soft part of his belly grazes your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “Oh god - I’m gonna cum.”

“There you go, baby. Cum for me.”

You fall apart around him, your head falling back in a silent cry to the ceiling. A buzz of electricity shutters through your whole body, your walls clenching around him harder than you thought was possible.

“That’s it,” he says into your neck as he licks and kisses. “Let go for me.”

His words spread more tingles along your skin, you tangle your hands in his curls and pull his face to yours. Kissing him deeply as you start to come down. He stills inside you as he comes again, sending you into a wave of aftershocks. You swallow his moans in your kisses, you never want this to end.

“Stay here honey,” Joel says, getting up to walk with wobbly legs to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth and carefully wipes you clean. Your body jolts and you cry out when he gets near your clit, he whispers apologies while drying you with a towel.

You start to get up. “Are you ok?” he questions.

“I have to pee,” you laugh. As you wash your hands you take in your reflection. Your poor nipple is purple from the elevator, you have mascara down your face, and as you predicted, you are already bruising from his grip on your hips. You spin to see angry, dark red splotches along the globes of your ass and you smile at yourself. Fuck, is there something wrong with me?

Even though you’re exhausted, you practically skip back out to the bed where Joel is holding a big glass of water and some soothing lotion that he purchased weeks ago for this exact moment. He laughs and shakes his head, he knows he’s in for it now seeing how happy you are with yourself.

“Drink this and then lay on your stomach please,” adding a quick, “you little brat.”

“So bossy.” You joke and roll your eyes, but you both love this part and as elated as you are right now, you know you need the aftercare so that your anxieties don’t get you later. So, you do as he says. You drink the water and then lay on your stomach. Joel rubs the cooling lotion on your marks and then places long, light kisses along your spine.

“How are you feeling?” He coos between kisses.

“I’m great. That was amazing. How are you feeling? I know you weren’t too sold on spanking me.”

Joel lies beside you and pulls you in, his front presses against yours, both of you using your own arm as a pillow. “Honestly, I’m surprised by how much I liked it. You looked so beautiful the entire time. I didn’t think I would like it, but….” He trails off looking slightly embarrassed, using his free hand to play with your hair.

“But?” you push.

“But…well a man my age doesn’t get multiple orgasms very often, makin’ me feel like we’re in our 20’s again.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to act out more often. Any cute guys on the job site I can eye fuck?”

Joel growls as he pulls you over to rest on his chest. “Mine. Now go to sleep, Little Dove. And stop saying that.”

Tag List: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

Also a special tag for @javierpena-inatacvest because I'm not on a mission to make her a Joel girlie.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 16 days

Text

You Can Talk to Me

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 5730

Summary: A night of drinks becomes something else when the reader reveals what’s been bothering her the past week. Matt tries to not be blinded by his feelings for his best friend as he comforts her, but this heartbreak may be just what she needs to see what’s right in front of her.

Notes: Yet another Matt comfort imagine, surprise surprise. I guess the thing about heartbreak, is it gives you plenty to write about. I don’t really have much else for this one, other than I’m just writing whatever I need right now. And fuck it, if that means combining smut with a comfort imagine, so be it. This is a lot, but I loved every minute of writing it.

Warnings: Angst, 18+ SMUT (choking, oral, unprotected, the works)

More Matt Imagines Here

Karen checked her watch again, head peeking over the growing crowd at Josie’s to try and spot the fourth member of their get-together.

“She’s never late,” Karen said, frowning. She turned to the two men waiting with her. “Maybe I should call again.”

Matt listened. Old rock hits played over the speakers and a group of men bickered by the pool table, but past the buzz of the neon and slight muffling through the window pane, he heard it. Quick, shallow breaths and a hurried heartbeat paired with the sharpness of salt in the air.

Matt stiffened.

You were crying.

He heard as you took a few deep breaths and hastily wiped your cheeks.

You pushed open the door to the bar with a strained smile and searching eyes.

“She’s here,” Matt said, his tone turned solemn.

What happened?

Foggy beamed, spotting you by the entrance. “How does he do that?”

Matt’s head tilted, analyzing your movements as you made your way through the crowd. Karen and Foggy were still looking for a table, but he could practically feel the effort it took to keep up your sunny demeanor.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, finally reaching them. “I got an unexpected call from work.”

Your heart skipped.

Matt’s worry deepened.

You’d never lied to them before.

Karen waved it off. “Well, you’re here now.”

“Let the party commence!” Foggy cheered.

Matt gave you a small smile. You did your best to return it. The other two left to get more drinks.

“Work, huh?” Matt prompted.

Your heart skipped again. “Yeah, they just needed to run something by me. No big deal.”

“Right.”

You noticed the twitch in his smile, the gentleness in his tone. You should have known he’d be able to tell something was wrong. He always did. It didn’t help that you’d been avoiding your friends these past two weeks. Especially Matt- because you knew this would happen. Somehow, he just saw you.

“How are the cases coming?” You asked, hoping to get the attention off of you. “You guys just won the worker’s comp case you’d been working so hard on right?”

Matt’s smile returned. “Yeah, we did.” He motioned in the direction of his partner. “Foggy’s closing statement really sealed it for us. You would have loved it.”

“Well, I unfortunately had a civil case across the hall.” You flexed your hands. “God, they talked so much I thought my fingers would fall off.”

The two of you chuckled.

“You should take some of that vacation time you talked about.” He cleared his throat, shifting almost uncomfortably. “Maybe go somewhere with Sam.”

You stiffened and glanced down at the table. “Yeah, Matt, about that-”

“Your elixir of drunkenness, milady.” Foggy set your bourbon down with a flourish.

You laughed, grateful for the interruption. “Why thank you, sir.”

Matt sighed lightly and sipped his beer, gripping the bottle a little tighter.

What the hell did Sam do?

You took a long, slow drink and let the burn wash away any other feeling. It worked… if only a little bit.

Karen led you all to a booth she’d picked out towards the back of the bar.

“So,” she said, taking the seat beside Foggy, sticking you beside the human lie detector. “What have you been up to? It seems like it’s been forever since we’ve actually seen you.”

You gulped and slid into the booth, Matt following after you. You almost stammered when his knee bumped against yours.

“Um, it’s been okay.”

Matt raised a brow at your hesitation, nudging you again. It wasn’t like you to hide things. Not from him.

You took a deep breath and ripped off the bandaid. “Sam and I broke up.”

Foggy’s eyes widened, Karen’s softened, and Matt took another drink.

“I’m okay though,” you quickly followed up.

Lie.

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said. He paused, then perked up. “Do you want another drink?”

“Foggy,” Karen scolded.

“What? Break-ups are the perfect reason to get wasted!”

You snickered and downed the rest of your whiskey. “I wouldn’t say no to another round.”

Foggy turned to the others.

Matt shrugged, still listening intently to your uneven breathing. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Karen leaned, reaching a comforting hand toward yours. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No, I couldn’t,” you shook your head. “We’re celebrating you guys tonight.” You took the drink Foggy handed you and raised your glass. “To Nelson and Murdock.”

Matt clinked his whiskey to yours. “And to being there for friends,” he added pointedly.

“Here here,” Karen cheered before you could shoot him a glare.

The next hour was filled with drinks and laughter. It helped you feel a little more like yourself- something you’d been trying to do for weeks. Every time Foggy made a joke or Matt “accidentally” brushed against your arm, the hole in your chest felt a little smaller.

And then you saw him.

Matt heard his voice first. His tense shoulders were why you looked up.

Sam had his arm around a pretty girl with dark hair. You’d seen her at his office before. His head turned, eyes meeting yours.

It was like you weren’t there.

Sam waved at Foggy and went to the other side of the bar, as far away from you as possible.

“That’s just cold,” Foggy said, shaking his head.

You finished your third drink. If you had anymore here you’d start crying and you were not going to let that happen. Not in front of all of them. Not til you were home. If Sam could not care, so could you.

“Do you want to leave?” Matt asked softly.

You swallowed back the panic attack rising in your throat. “No. We should finish our drinks.”

“Do you want another?” Karen offered.

“I’ll just get water to end the night, thanks.”

Matt knew what that meant. You’d finish the night at home, by yourself, drinking until you fell asleep numb. A coping mechanism you had only ever confided in him about. It was easier for you to face everything alone, or at least you convinced yourself it was. He could relate to that.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from shifting toward the couple across the bar, no matter how hard you tried. You watched Sam’s eyes glisten every time he looked at her. He laughed loud enough for the sound to reach over the crowd.

God, you felt so stupid.

Matt couldn’t do it anymore. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense the way just sitting there was eating at you, the idea of you hurting was enough to break him.

“Hey, I’ve got some leftover enchiladas from the Galindo case,” he said, leaving closer to you so his breath was against your ear. “Want to help me get through them?” Before you could make an excuse, he finished with. “They’ll go bad if you don’t. You know how often I forget dinner.” He playful bumped his shoulder into yours.

You rolled your eyes. “And I keep telling you that one of these days you’ll keel over and I won’t run to help you.”

“Yes you would,” he teased. “You like me too much.”

“Maybe,” you laughed.

He could always do that. And the idea of going home alone…

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” You held up a finger, “but only if I can go through your record collection.”

Matt grinned. “Deal.”

Karen saw your gaze flit back to where it was before and leaned to whisper to you.

“I know this isn’t much help now,” she said, “but you’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, I never liked the smug sonofabitch anyway,” Foggy added a little too loudly.

“Shhhh,” you and Karen both hissed.

You thought you saw Sam glance over and ducked to hide your face in Matt’s shoulder.

Karen looked between the two of you, but kept her comments to herself, though her smile grew.

Matt chuckled and took your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb in a way that said ‘it’s gonna be okay.’

Foggy and Karen got a cab but both you and Matt felt okay enough to walk back to his apartment in the warm New York spring air. There was still a bite in the breeze, lingering from winter. Only wearing a nice tee, you shivered.

“Are you cold?” Matt asked, already taking off his suit jacket. He put it around your shoulders without you even having to ask.

Karen shot you a smirk.

You mouthed ‘Seriously?’

She snickered and closed the cab door.

You quickly turned to Matt, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks- not knowing he could sense it, of course. “Ready?”

Matt smiled and held out his arm. “Lead the way.”

His easy demeanor helped to calm you a little and when his arm hooked through yours, it felt like he was the one guiding you. Maybe he was, in a way.

“It’s really nice tonight,” you said, trying- and failing- not to sound awkward.

“Are you talking to me about the weather?” Matt teased.

Your face reddened even more. “Leave me alone, I’m-” you searched for a word, flustered. “Fragile.”

He snickered. “Fragile, huh?”

“Yes,” you nudged his side with your elbow. “Fragile. Which means you have to be nice to me.”

“I’m being very nice,” he said in mock offense. “I’m feeding you Seniora Galindo’s enchiladas and letting you rummage through my records. I’d say I am your knight in shining red glass this evening.” He poked you right back.

“You have certainly been chivalrous,” you smiled and fell into silence, the weight on your chest sucking the energy out of you.

This was how it had been. One moment, you were okay, and the next…

It was like you only had two true modes of being.

Angry.

Or empty.

There was much in between. It was getting harder and harder to remember that any of it had been good to begin with.

The way his eyes just slide past you at the bar.

The way he practically ignored you in the conversations at work.

The way he wouldn’t even talk to you about what happened.

Like you weren’t there.

Like you were nothing.

The word hit you. It struck you in the chest like someone had put their hands around your ribs and pushed.

But you kept walking.

Matt sensed the shift- the hitch in your breath and the hesitation in your step. He wanted to stop you right there and pull you into his secure embrace to block out the thoughts that plagued you. The hurt. He wished he could stop it.

But he waited.

You were grateful for the jacket wrapped tightly around you because the night had turned colder by the time the two of you reached Matt’s apartment building. Still pushing down that dark empty ache, you climbed the stairs with your eyes trained on the ground.

Matt opened the door, ushering you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

The touch made you flinch, not because it was uncomfortable, but because the gesture brought out more feeling than you were prepared for. Every nerve was set on edge.

“Sorry,” you murmured, seeing Matt pull away.

He shook his head, still giving you that small smile. “You don’t have to apologize.”

He let you go first into the living room, where you took a seat close to the window. Staring out at the bright, shifting lights of the billboard, you breathed out for what felt like the first time since you saw Sam in the bar.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” you mused. You felt Matt take a seat, the cushions shifting beside you. His arm grazed your back as he draped it over the back of the couch.

“Y/N,” he started softly.

You blinked back tears, a pleading in your voice. “Matt…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He put a finger under your chin and gently turned your face toward him. “I know you’re holding something back. Why?” There was a desperation in his voice, a need to do something- anything to make it better.

“I can’t.” You still tried to fight against the emotions trying to choke you.

Maybe Sam had the right idea when he stopped speaking to you altogether. And you still didn’t know why.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Matt whispered, moving closer to you. “You can talk to me.”

Those five words were all it took. Two weeks of being blamed and ignored and confused and devastated hit you all at once.

Matt felt the break before the first tear fell. He felt your lips tremble, still trying to hold back the words that were tearing you apart. It shattered him. Matt wrapped his arms around you and this time you didn’t flinch away.

You crashed against him like the waves inside your chest.

“Tell me what’s been going on, sweetheart,” Matt urged, his tone as sweet as the endearment he called you. “Just talk to me.”

“He won't-” You sucked back a sob. “He won’t talk to me. I thought, when he broke up with me, that things were okay between us. That we could be friends like we were before. But now, he won’t even look at me.”

Matt thought about Sam’s quickly shuffling feet, his spiked heartbeat when he saw them there. Like he couldn’t get away fast enough. But why? The last time Matt had been around the two of you, Sam seemed fine. Matt didn’t particularly like the guy but he made you happy. Or he used to, anyway.

“It’s not like I thought Sam was ‘the one’ or anything,” you said, calming yourself down. “But I thought these past two months at least meant something. He’s acting like they didn’t even happen.” You wrapped your arms around your legs, tucking yourself into the corner of the couch. “And I feel like an idiot because we weren’t together for long but… I guess he’d become one of my best friends and now it’s like I’m not… anything, anymore.”

Your last statement struck Matt, but he didn’t push it. Not yet.

“And he hasn’t told you why? He just-” Matt sighed. “Disappeared on you?”

More like he made you disappear.

You curled up more.

“And there’s nothing I can do about it.” There was no hiding the defeat in your tone. You wiped a stray tear. “I just wanted something to work out for once.” How many times could your heart break again and again and again before it gave up?

Matt kept an arm around your shoulders. He moved closer so you could lay your head on his shoulder and blew out a breath. “I know.”

His soft touch set you off again. Your cries were quiet, your tears slow. You didn’t have the energy to sob.

Matt tucked you in his arms, waiting. It wasn’t his place to push, not when everything was so raw. Not when part of him wished he could kiss your tears away.

He’d always wondered if his dislike of Sam came out of jealousy. Matt felt he had waited too long and he lost his chance when Sam came along.

He felt horrible, thinking about that now, but it lingered nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you sniffed, sitting up again. “I really didn’t want to go home alone again.”

You’d counted every crack in your ceiling three times already.

“You can come over whenever you need to, okay?” Matt smiled. “You liven up the place.”

You snorted.

“I’m serious,” he said. Matt leaned over and kissed your forehead. “You warm every room you’re in.”

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but when your lips brushed against his- just for a moment- Matt pulled away.

“Wait,” he said. The kiss barely lasted a second, but he sounded breathless. His smile almost seemed nervous. “You haven’t picked a record yet.”

You swallowed hard. “O-okay.”

While you walked to his crate records, Matt tried to force his heartbeat to slow down. Just the brief touch had his head spinning. But you were vulnerable and hurting. He couldn’t bear the idea of taking advantage of that. To keep himself busy, he got up to go to the kitchen, getting you a glass of water.

You picked a soft 90s alt album and put the needle on. Quiet drums filled the space but did little to silence your mind. You went back to the couch but didn’t sit down. You took the water but didn’t drink.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

Finally, the guilty part of you took over.

“Sam’s going through a lot,” you reasoned. “Between his caseload and things going on with his family…” God, maybe you were being the selfish one here.

Matt held onto the back of the couch, unfocused eyes trained on the carpet. “That doesn’t mean he gets to treat you like this.”

You turned away. “I know.”

Matt let go of the leather and walked to you. “You deserve better than this, Y/N.”

“I know.” Your heart faltered again. Another lie.

Despite the voice in his head telling him to stop, Matt put a hand on your arm, fingers squeezing gently to get you to face him.

“What is it?” He asked.

You found yourself leaning into his touch again. At least it made you feel something again. When you spoke, it was almost too quiet. If it hadn’t been Matt, he might not have heard you.

“I’ve never had someone make me feel like I was…” The words cracked inside you. “Like I’m nothing the way he has.”

Matt’s heart broke completely.

How could anyone make you think that? How could anyone not see how incredible and important and- he couldn’t even think of enough words to capture the growing need in his chest. A need to not have you feel this way anymore.

“Y/N, no,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “You aren’t nothing. You mean so much to so many people. To Foggy and Karen. To me-” he took a deep breath. “Y/N, you’re everything.”

Suddenly you weren’t thinking of Sam or the girl he was with. You weren’t thinking about your emptiness or your anger. All that mattered, all you felt… was him.

“Matt,” you breathed him in, shaking with your next request. “Please.”

Matt’s lips ghosted yours. He was standing so close you thought you could hear his heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” If you said no, he would step back and you would never have to worry about him not speaking to you. He could never leave you like that, no matter how he felt. But if you said yes-

“I need you, Matt,” you whimpered. You didn’t know how true it was until you said it.

Until he closed the space between you, capturing any other words with his lips.

Matt wished his kiss alone could show you how much you meant. He tried to convey every feeling with the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.

A soft moan escaped your throat as his tongue explored your mouth. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

The sound ignited through Matt. He held you tighter, hands falling to grip your waist while his mouth moved to your ear.

“You’re everything,” he repeated, breath on your skin.

You moaned again, fingers gripping his button down, pulling him back toward the couch.

Matt’s hold tightened, keeping you in place. He chuckled and shook his head. “If we’re doing this.” He lifted you up in his arms.

You yelped.

He wrapped your legs around his waist. “We’re going to do it right.”

He carried you steadily to his room and laid you down on silk sheets. Matt hovered over you for a moment, letting his senses take everything in.

Impatient, you tugged on his hair.

Again, he just chuckled, using one hand to grab your wrists and hold them over your head.

You raised a brow. This was a side of the snarky lawyer you hadn’t entirely expected. Not that you were complaining.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, a smug smile spreading across his face. There was the Matt you knew. “I need you to be patient.” He kissed along the collar of your shirt. “And let me make you feel good.”

“That’s two things,” you teased.

He nipped at your collarbone hard enough to make you gasp.

“O-okay, Matt.”

“Good girl,” he said lowly. From how your body responded, he kept that in mind for later.

Matt pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons.

You admired the curves of his torso, leading downward to the waistband of his pants and what lay beneath.

“Matt,” you said, a slight whine in your voice.

He smirked.

Bastard.

You pulled those smug lips back to yours, kissing him with just a smidge of defiance.

Matt’s hand made its way to your throat, squeezing just enough to hold you down.

“Be. Patient.” He growled again with a deeper tone.

He removed your shirt and bra in two swift motions. Matt didn’t waste any time roaming his hands over your body, committing every touch to memory.

Your breathing hitched as his fingers each ran over your peaked nipples. Rough yet gentle hands massaged your breasts. Matt rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive buds again if only to hear that lovely little gasp again.

He took a moment to remember how this all started. As one hand teased its way down your stomach, the other took hold of your chin.

“You are not nothing,” Matt said firmly. His fingers dipped beneath the fabric, undoing the button of your jeans. “I want you to say it.”

You bit your lip and tried to turn away, but his hold wouldn’t let you.

Matt kissed your lips then trailed his way to your chest, listening to your heart.

“Please?” He kissed the skin in the valley of your breasts.

You breathed out a sigh. “I am not nothing.”

“I know you can do better than that.” Matt trailed his kisses over the slope of your skin so that his lips hovered over your nipple. “Come on, sweetheart. I need you to believe it.”

“I am not nothing,” you said a little more confidently despite the hitch in your words when the tips of his fingers grazed your clit.

Matt nodded before taking your nipple into his mouth. Your jeans and panties were quick to join the rest of your clothes on the floor and his fingers pressed down on your bundle of nerves.

You had to bite back another whine. Between his teeth tugging on your nipple and his fingertips beginning agonizingly slow circles, you were already coming apart at the seams. Each swirl of his tongue matched the motions against your clit. It ignited every one of your senses, enveloping you in him.

Matt sucked a little harsher, eliciting the moan you were holding back.

And he reveled in it.

While Matt switched his attention to your other tit, he accelerated his circles on your clit.

“God, Matt.” You finally moved your hands from where he’d placed them above your head and tangled them in his hair.

He could hear your heartbeat quickening, hear the unevenness in your breathing as he wound you tighter and tighter with just the tips of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he cooed, replacing his nipping and sucking with soft licks and kisses across your chest. You knew you’d have several marks in the morning, which excited you even more. Matt rubbed harder and faster. “That’s it, baby.”

Your climax crashed into you before you could prepare. Your hands pulled on his hair, loud whining gasp escaping your lips. Matt caught the sound in a kiss, letting it vibrate through him perfectly. He kept up his flicking, figure-eight motions to help you ride out the high.

You tugged his bottom lip between your teeth, draping your arms around his neck. Closer. You needed him closer.

And yet, he pulled away. Matt smiled at your whimper, laying one hand on your cheek and bringing the other to his lips, licking your glisten from his fingers. You turned your head, taking two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking sweetly.

Matt felt something snap inside him. With a deep rumble from his chest, he moved to stand at the foot of the bed, yanking you down to the edge.

You sat up, hands reaching for his belt. You needed him.

Matt pushed you back on the bed quick enough that you bounced on the mattress.

“Not yet,” he smirked, laying an arm across you to hold you down. There was something different about his smile. Something devilish.

Then he knelt in front of you.

Your head fell back against the silk sheets as he bit your inner thigh, soothing the spot with his tongue. He did this up and down your legs, all the while holding you to the bed to keep your hips from bucking and giving you more friction than he allowed.

“Ma-ah-” You gasped as his tongue finally swept up the length of your core.

Matt’s head swam with every detail his heightened senses were taking in. From the taste of you to the way his name fell from your lips fueled his movements. He closed his lips over your clit, spelling your name into the sensitive nerves with his tongue- then spelling his own.

Your core pulsed around nothing, tightening the more wrecked you with his mouth.

“Fuck, Matthew,” you moaned.

Matt lapped at your center, completely taken by the overwhelming burning inside him that you stoked with your noises and your scent and your taste.

You almost screamed with the coming of your second climax, even more intense than the first. The ache inside of you just got worse as you gushed, still empty and needy.

Matt drank in everything you gave him, pushing you as far as you could go.

As he crawled back up to you, your limbs trembling and your heart racing, he kissed you gently, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, afraid he’d gotten carried away.

“I need more,” you pleaded, gulping down breaths. “Please, Matty?”

He smiled that devilish smile again.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Matty.” You keened, hands trying to reach again for him, but he held you firmly. “I need you inside me.” You pouted your lips. “I need you to hold me.”

Matt kissed you again, this time softer, trailing down your neck as he backed away to take off the rest of his clothes.

You got just a glimpse of him before he laid you on your side and it was enough to have you aching even more.

He laid beside you, holding your back to his chest.

“Okay, baby.”

Matt pushed inside of you, arms locked around your middle. He bit down on your shoulder to contain his moan while your breathless cry rang through the room.

“So good, sweetheart,” he murmured, bringing his hips back. “You feel so good.”

“Just for you, M-Matt.” You laid your head back in the crook of his neck.

Matt snapped his hips back, plunging his cock deeper inside your pulsing walls. “Atta girl.”

You rutted back against him, every movement inside of you bringing a whimper with each brush of his shaft against the blinding spot within.

Matt held you as close to his body as possible, making it harder to tell where he ended and you began. He slipped a hand up to wrap around your throat, turning your face to kiss you. His tongue claimed your mouth while he continued to rock in and out of you. In and out. A perfect, steady rhythm that stayed deep inside your core while being just slow enough to keep you wanting more.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Matt whispered, saying your name like a sacred prayer.

“God, Matty,” you said, feeling his hand around your throat. “Matt, I’m-” You were cut off by a loud moan when he hit that spot that made you see stars even harder than before.

“I know,” Matt cooed. “I know you want to give me another one. I know, sweetheart.” He gripped your neck a little tighter. “But I need you to wait a little longer.”

“But Matty…” The hot coil inside you constricted more and more.

“I know, baby,” he smirked against your jaw. “Here, I’ll count with you, okay?”

You tried to think past the haze of him. “O-okay, Matt.”

“Alright.” His free hand returned to your clit, making it even harder for you to hold back. “Count with me and I’ll let you come. One.”

You took a shaking breath. “One.”

“Two.”

“T-two.”

This continued his thrusts, getting faster, leaving you both panting by the final count.

“Ten,” Matt growled, nipping the back of your neck, having been struggling to hold on himself.

“Ten,” you exclaimed. “Ten ten ten. Matt please.”

He wicked a line up to your ear, biting the soft flesh there.

“Come for me, Y/N.”

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair again as overwhelming shocks of pleasure burned through you like wildfire. As Matt spilled into you, his hips stuttering against your ass, you stopped feeling anything else. Everything was this moment.

Neither of you even had a moment to say anything, completely overcome by pleasant exhaustion.

Matt cradled you to him and you fell asleep tangled with his body. He breathed in your scent, smiling as he let sleep take over him as well.

You woke up to a warm sun and an empty bed. A moment of confusion clouded your tired mind before memories of the night flooded your senses.

Seeing Sam at the bar.

The emptiness in your chest. The nothingness.

Then coming here with Matt…

Matt.

“Oh God.” You sat up, silk sheets slipping over your skin.

You had sex with Matt. Your best friend. Amazing, mind-blowing sex, but at what cost? Was one night worth screwing up years of friendship? And where was he? Was he so disgusted by what you’d done he couldn't bear to be around you anymore?

Those fears consumed you as you scrambled to gather your things and get dressed. You found the living room empty, making your stomach sink even more. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut.

You screwed up the most important relationship in your life… all because you saw your ex at a bar.

How you felt about Matt- feelings you were realizing you had- didn’t matter. You’d fucked everything up.

Matt was climbing the stairs with coffee in hand when he heard the racing, panicked heart in his apartment from a floor down. One thought leaped to the front of his mind.

You regretted everything.

With every hurried step, Matt grew more furious with himself. What was he thinking? He’d let his feelings for you get in the way during a difficult time and now you hated him for it.

He would apologize. He had to. He couldn’t risk the relationship you already had. Even if it meant ignoring how he really felt.

He opened the door with sorry on his lips, but you beat him to it.

“Oh thank God, you’re back,” you sighed. From your tone and the lingering salt in the air, he knew you’d been crying. His fault.

“It is my apartment,” he teased. If he could just get things back to how they were-

“I know, but when I woke up you were gone and-” You took a deep breath. “I understand if this makes things too complicated and you don’t want to speak to me again. I promise I didn’t plan any of this and-”

“Y/N, wait.” Matt interrupted, finally understanding.

It wasn’t regret.

It was fear. Like his. Only, you had just gone through something similar with Sam, which made everything even worse.

“I know you have a lot going on,” you said, trying to hold it together. “I won’t add to that. Not over a-” The words stung as you said them. “Over a pity fuck.”

And just like last night, Matt’s heart broke for you.

“Is that what you thought it was?” Matt asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” You fell back onto the couch and stared at your lap, unable to look at him anymore. “First everything with Sam now I’m going to lo-” You couldn’t finish, sucking in a breath to keep from crying.

Matt crossed the living room and sat beside you. Slowly, carefully, he took your hand in his. He laid it on his chest so you could feel the steadiness of his heart.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said.

You focused on that heartbeat.

Matt moved his hands to cup your face.

“Last night wasn’t about Sam or the breakup or the bar.” He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Last night was about us. You and me. And we can make it mean whatever we want it to or nothing at all. But Y/N,” he sighed, “you are not going to lose me.”

You let his words sink in and made yourself believe them, at least right now.

Matt pulled you closer, gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you glanced at the table, finally taking in the scent of the coffee.

“So that's where you disappeared to,” you laughed a little at yourself for panicking.

Matt nodded, his hands falling to his lap. “Yeah, I was out and I know how you get without your caffeine.”

“Hey,” you snickered, poking his side.

“I knew I could get a smile.”

You blushed. “How do you even know?”

“Trust me,” he beamed. “I know.”

The two of you decided that you would figure it out at whatever pace you both needed. He was your best friend and you loved each other. And you would no matter what. Still, the prospect of being together, of taking your relationship a step further, excited both of you more than you admitted.

There was, however, a promise Matthew had yet to keep…

So you had enchiladas for breakfast.

#matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil imagines #marvel #matt murdock smut #comfort #hurt and comfort

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shownusgfayoooo · 6 months

Text

A Potions Mishap

Pairing: Seonghwa x f!Y/N

Tropes: Hogwarts au, Slytherin!Hwa, Ravenclaw!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining

T/W: injury with a knife, feeling dizzy/sick, f word

Words: ~4k

my masterlist

You normally enjoy Potions class, you really do. But, today, the thought of spending the whole afternoon in the dungeons was filling you with a sense of tediousness and dread. Not only was it a perfect summer day- one that you couldn’t even enjoy because of double potions, but it was also exam season- so, even if you hadn’t had class blocking up the whole day, then studying for your N.E.W.T.’s was enough to ruin anyone’s mood. Add a granola bar for every meal for the past two weeks and barely four hours of sleep from the night before, and the equation spelled a truly annoying and exhausting end to your school day.

Noticing the sour look on your face, your friend and fellow Ravenclaw housemate, Hongjoong waved his fork in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Whaaaaat?”

“Have you seen the time? We have class in 5 minutes, and – did you seriously not eat anything, again?”

You blinked down at your where your plate should be. Instead, you saw your Potions text, riddled with notes in the margins and covered in pink highlights. To the side sat your plate of food, untouched.

“Ah, shit.”

Hongjoong began to open his mouth to lecture you before you cut him off, “Just save it- as if you haven’t forgotten to eat because you also got caught up in some project at the table!”

He quickly closed his mouth and gave you a stern smile instead. “At least I don’t do it every day. From tomorrow onwards, if you don’t eat, I will force feed you, I swear.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and finally pulled your sandwich towards you. Still, you only managed a few bites before it was time to go.

You sighed as you walked down the stairs. You were really not looking forward to – before you could even finish the thought, you were attacked from behind. Gasping, you almost lost your balance down the last step, but the perpetrators steadied you. You shot a look of annoyance over both your shoulders at the two banes of your existence.

“Aw, noona. What’s got you sighing like that?” San asked.

“Or should we ask- whoooo?” Wooyoung wagged his eyebrows at you.

You huffed as you pushed them both off. “As if. Try to kill me again, and I’ll hex you so bad you won’t be able to sit your exams, I mean it.”

“Oh, noona. Please hex me. PLEASE. I really don’t wannaa take these fucking N.E.W.T.s.” Mingi added.

You pushed ahead of the three Gryffindor idiots, hiding your smile. “Why do I even bother?”

A low chuckle reached your ears. “I ask myself the same question every day, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed to keep your features cool as you turned your head up to Seonghwa who was holding the door to the classroom open for you and the guys. You managed to say hello and thank him before the blush could really bloom on your cheeks and across your nose.

Hongjoong wagged his eyebrows at the look on your face as he took his usual spot next to you at the worktable. He was the only one who knew of your crush on the Slytherin.

It had all started in 6th year. Up until then, Potions had always been taught to you with the Hufflepuffs. As such, you, and Hongjoong for that matter, had never had this class with the Gryffindors or the Slytherins. However, at the N.E.W.T. level, there were barely enough students to fill a single classroom. This is when you first came across Seonghwa in a classroom setting. Even though you were friends with his “band of pirates” as they liked to call themselves, you had never seen or interacted with Seonghwa outside of the group. Here in class, San and Wooyoung were paired up at a workstation, as they had been their whole Hogwarts career, and the same was true for you and Hongjoong. Though Mingi and Seonghwa were from Gyrffindor and Slytherin, respectively, they had never been partners before 6th year. Even though they had always been friends, House always came first. Even you had always paired with Hongjoong, even though you were both close with Yunho who was a Hufflepuff who you had shared Potions with for 5 years.

“I’m telling you, Y/N. We gotta glamour your face or something, you’re as red as a tomato.”

You looked at Joong in horror as your hands came up to cover your cheeks. “Is it really?”

It was at that moment that Seonghwa reached his table and took his seat in front of you two. “Everything alright?” He looked between the two of you.

“Yes, of course!” You laughed awkwardly as you hit Hongjoong on the arm. It sounded a bit too high even to your ears.

Seonghwa’s smile was stiff on his face as he nodded and took his seat, just as your professor started the class.

“Alright class. New orders from above. Today, we are going to be striving towards inter-house unity!”

As the class gave each other unsure looks, the false cheery smile slipped off Professor Nott’s face. “I know it’s annoying guys, but please find a partner from a House that is not yours. And before any of you try to be sneaky- yes, I’m looking at you Mingi- if you already have a partner from a different house, then find a new one! We’re going to be working on the Shrinking Solution today, and you all know that needs two hands for the chopping and stirring that needs to happen at the same time.” The class groaned. “Do not kill me; it was not my idea,” he held up his hands. “Why the Headmaster decides at the very last minute of your academic career to shake things up; I’ll never understand,” he muttered under his breath, not quite successfully.

You stood from your spot with your bookbag, unsure of where to turn. But, before you could even take a breath, Mingi came around your corner of the table, jostling you, and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong. “Dibs!” The Ravenclaw was quick to shrug out of it and yell and start wagging a finger at him, but Mingi just stuck his tongue out at San and Wooyoung across the aisle who were throwing their arms up in the air and giving him the finger.

In the chaos, Y/N didn’t see Seongwa scowl at Mingi as she steadied her balance yet again.

You chuckled and started to make you way over to the Gryffindors you were most comfortable with, before San and Wooyoung quickly and efficiently swapped partners with the Slytherin boys that always sat in front of them, Changbin and Leeknow.

You frowned and quickly let your eyes dart around the whole classroom. Everyone was paired up, except for Seonghwa. He sat calmly at his spot, twirling a quill between his long fingers, almost as if he was waiting for you.

He sensed your gaze and looked up at your from under his long lashes.

“Wanna be my mine?”

Even though you were quick to surmise the true meaning of his not-so-innocuous question, you couldn’t help your eyes from widening as your heart heard a different meaning.

“S-sure, I’ll be your partner.” You took Mingi’s vacated seat quickly and avoided his gaze.

As the class settled, Professor Nott started his brief lecture on the potion. Your knee bounced under the table. You were so aware of every line of Seonghwa’s body, just inches from yours. Did you and Hongjoong sit this close, also? You had truly never noticed. The space between you and the Slytherin felt so heavy with static. Were you moving too much? You stopped shaking your leg, but that lasted two seconds, before your fingers started drumming against the desk.

Seonghwa suddenly leaned forward from his slouched position to place his forearms on the table next to where yours were. His fingers covered the movement of yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your eyes on the board, as you felt him lean his head towards yours.

“If you’re so nervous about this potion, Y/N, don’t worry, I’m the top of this class. I’ve got you.” His whisper was a tickle against your ear.

Was it just you being delusional or did all his words have double meanings? You smirked back even as your heat raced in your chest at both his proximity and his teasing words.

You met his eyes briefly to retort back. “Actually, you’ll find that your tied for that position, with me. So, maybe it is I that will be carrying you.”

He smiled back, and your eyes caught in a moment that lasted what seemed like forever, before it was broken by the sound of scraping chairs.

You both blinked before also standing to start your potion. Pink dusted both student’s cheeks, unbeknownst to the other.

“Oh also, class! I know you know this but be careful when you’re chopping the cowbane. Even the juice on your knife is very poisonous blah blah, get to it!” You smiled at Professor T’s cavalier attitude, even though you knew he cared very deeply for his students and educating every generation of students he could be available to.

You and Seonghwa quickly settled into an efficient routine. It was almost like you could read each other’s minds; without even speaking, you both divvied up the tasks in a way that made sense to you. He had already chopped the shrivelfigs and added their juice to the cauldron, while you intuitively prepared the next steps by mincing the daisy root and preparing the hairy caterpillars as he heated the cauldron gently.

You were surprised, as you had never had such chemistry with another Potions partner before. You always had a hard time doing group projects, because you thought you could just do better on your own and were often irritated at having to go at someone else’s slower pace. You and Hongjoong had always worked well together, with the minor bumps caused by his temper tantrums and your passive aggressiveness, but you had thought that he was the best a partner could ever be. As you watched Seonghwa vigorously stir the potion, a step you always hated because your arm always got tired, you realized you couldn’t have been more wrong. You both naturally gravitated towards the different aspects of the potion that you favored and preferred. It was honestly euphoric to be working together like this, and the academic in you was singing with joy.

You were working on juicing the leeches when the heat of the room started getting to you. The many fires under the cauldrons made it so that the dungeons were sweltering. Somewhere in the room, Wooyoung started screaming that he had accidentally added rose petals instead of daisy root, and the whole class groaned because any first year knows that combining rose to blood from anything made for the most disgusting smell. The fumes started to make you dizzy, and you were suddenly regretting only eating two bites of a sandwich.

Seonghwa paused in his shaking of the rat spleen you had just handed over, barely a tremble to your hand. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Yes..?”

His eyes looked into yours deeply. You were not used to someone noticing when things were barely off with you. This little bit of dizziness was nothing.

“If you’re sure.” He didn’t look too convinced as he turned to stir the cauldron clockwise.

As you started working on the cowbane, these thoughts took another turn. Not only was he the best partner you had ever had, but he was also so caring and asked after your wellbeing! Your crush reared its big head before you could stifle it down.

You were carefully slicing the second piece of cowbane to render more liquid- the first had not yielded enough for the potion. All of a sudden, the dizziness came back in full force and your vision swam before your eyes. The knife missed its mark and instead imbedded in your thumb. You blinked and swayed.

“Y/N!”

A hand wrapped around your left wrist, while another took the knife out of your right hand.

“Sorry, Seonghwa.” You had ruined the potion. He had stopped stirring because of you.

Along with the dizziness came a new feeling. Your body felt so floaty. Everything was too bright and too loud.

A voice swam in from far away.

“I think the knife had some juice on it, Professor, and she cut herself pretty deep. I’ve been holding pressure, but…”

“No, you did the exact right thing, Seonghwa. Don’t worry; she’ll be okay. We just need to get her to Madame Patil in the hospital wing, and the antivenom will fix her right up.”

There was the sound of a bomb exploding.

“I’ll go take care of San’s potion- he clearly added the rat spleen incorrectly, seeing as it misfired. Are you ok to take Y/N up by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then, an arm wrapped around your waist to pull you up from your chair. His other arm took yours over his shoulder as he began to take you out of the classroom.

“Seonghwaaa.”

“Y/n, just hang on, ok? We’re going to the Hospital Wing.” He looked down at you.

“You’re too tall.”

He looked down at you, confused, but did not stop his hurried rush across the corridor to the stairs. “Excuse me?”

“My arm hurts at this angle.” Why were words coming out so readily right now? Was it the cowbane?

He brought you both to a standstill. “Um, yea, it’s one of the effects of cowbane poisoning. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was uncomfortable.” You could barely feel alarm that there was no filter between your brain and your mouth through the haziness that was descending over your whole body.

He looked unsurely up the stairs and back at you twice before his face set in determination.

“Ok, Y/N, I’m going to have to carry you.”

“No!” You stepped back shakily. You were definitely too heavy. This was going to be so embarrassing. But, also, it would feel so good probably. To be in his strong Chaser arms. Oh my god. Wait, he could hear everything. This is so embarrassing.

He smiled privately to himself before pulling you closer. “I hate to do this without your consent, but technically, you are not sound of mind and actively have a poison in your system, and Professor told me to get you there as fast as possible, so-”

And with that, he swung you up in your arms, like you weighed nothing and started off up the stairs.

The sudden change of position set your stomach rolling and the dizziness came back with doubled force. You whimpered and burrowed your head further into his neck, forgetting to fight him for manhandling you.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Seonghwa glanced worriedly down at your face which was turning an unhealthy-looking shade of green. “We’re almost there, love. Just hang on. I’m getting you there.”

You whimpered and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly. Still, even though you were feeling so sick, the comfort and exhilaration of being so close to Seonghwa was not lost on you. If you threw up on Seonghwa right now, you were gonna kill yourself.

“Please don’t. I’d miss you too much.”

“Ugh, please stop reading my mind,” you managed to say between clenched teeth.

He chuckled quietly before depositing you softly onto a bed. Oh, a bed? Was it his bed? What was he going to do? What did you want him to do? Before your brain could come up with incriminating ideas to answer that question, a soft voice interrupted you.

“Oh, thank Salazar she’s conscious.”

“Um, Ms. Y/N, you are in the Hospital Wing.” There was a laughing lilt to her voice before it turned serious. “Mr. Seonghwa told me of the situation that happened in the Potions class, and I have just administered the antidote. It takes effect in 15 minutes, so just try hang on a little bit longer as it clears out the poison in your system. I also administered an anti-emetic, so just breathe in and out so you don’t throw up the antidote, or we’ll have to start all over and you will just feel worse as the cowbane spreads further. Just these 15 minutes, Y/N, and after that you should start to feel better within the hour. I’ll go whip up a hydration potion, also, because your basic diagnostic charm did not look good, young lady.”

You finally blinked open your eyes to see the high ceiling above you. Madame Patil was not wrong in taking extra measures to make sure you didn’t throw up. You felt like a ragdoll thrown at sea. The nausea was overwhelming, and the panic that it was causing wasn’t helping either. Before you could start hyperventilating in full, a hand grabbed yours.

You turned your head to where Seonghwa sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Sh, just focus on me.” He inhaled exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows at you to follow.

You clamped down your jaw harder and mimicked him. It helped a fraction. Then, the next breath came easier. As did the next.

You don’t know how much time passed, but looking at him helped you hold on and focus even when your whole body was thrown in turmoil. Staring into his eyes and seeing him stare back just as hard at your own anchored you and healed you in more than one way.

You didn’t even realize 15 minutes had passed and that the nausea had stopped until Healer Patil bustled back into the room, a pale pink potion in her hands.

“You did so well, Y/N,” she soothed quietly. At the nurturing tone and the knowledge that you could finally relax a little now, your eyes welled up.

“There, there- none of that. The worst has passed. Now, drink this.”

You wrinkled your nose and glanced at Seonghwa in dread. Rehydrating potions tasted so bad. When will the horrors end?

He shook his head at you sternly. “Hurry up, Y/N.”

“Ugh.” You downed the whole glass, and Healer Patil leaned you back softly onto the headboard.

“All done. Now, you just rest. I’m writing you a pass for classes tomorrow as well.”

“Oh, but-”

She looked down at you sternly. “No buts. I know it’s exam season, Y/N, but if you want to write those exams to the best of your ability, then you need to take care of your body as well as your mind. That means eating well, sleeping enough, and resting when you need to. Your body has just undergone a major ordeal even if it was healed so quickly, so give it the time it needs to recuperate.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’m not that bad at taking care of myself!”

“Do you think my diagnostics lied to me? You haven’t eaten well in the past week and a half from the looks of it and are severely dehydrated! The poison wouldn’t have worked so fast if you weren’t already so compromised!”

At that, you had nothing to say. The older Ravenclaw nodded and sniffed as she walked away.

That left you alone with Seonghwa. As the haziness of your mind started to clear, the events of the past hour came back to you.

You snuck a glance at him. He looked the most worried you had ever seen him. Even more than when Yeosang had been upset- this sent any of the pirates into a spiral. More than when Jongho had to take a break from Quidditch because of a knee injury. More than any occasion before.

You looked back down at your hands. It was surprising to see the cut that had started this whole fiasco. Though it wasn’t that deep of a gash, it was pretty long, almost the whole length of your thumb. You winced as you prodded at it.

“Oh, here. Let me heal that for you.”

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. It’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” He frowned at you. You were scared at his expression. He had never looked at you like that before. Just what exactly had you said in your state of delirium? What if he hated you now?

Before you could suggest that Healer Patil could do it, he took your hand gently in his and pulled it towards him. He softly muttered the incantation as he waved his wand over the cut, and the cooling rush of his magic tingled all the way up your arm. It was so intimate.

The heady feeling of happiness rushing through your chest at the feel of his magic coming up against yours halted in its tracks. What if he hated you now? His whole demeanor was so off. You had to clear the air.

“Listen, Seonghwa. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for noticing what happened immediately and getting me here so quickly and helping me… And, also, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” You were glaring at where your hands were twisting the sheets, so you missed his look of surprise. “I feel bad that you had to take care of me and that I took time out of your learning time, especially when we know that the Shrinking Solution is probably gonna be tested on the N.E.W.T.s, and I – I , whatever I said, I’m sorry. If you could just tell me what I said that offended you, I promise I probably didn’t mean it. Or if I did, then I can just explain-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His hands covered both of your own.

You looked up at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Who said I’m mad? I’m not. I promise.”

“But you- you looked so serious just now.”

“Well, yea! Of course, I am.” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “But not because I’m mad that I had to take care of you or leave class because of you or any dumb reason you just came up with right now.” He smiled at you.

You laughed weakly. “O-oh.”

He looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath, “Fuck it.”

His hand came up to wrap around your own again. “Y/N, I was worried. Just now. That’s why I looked so serious. And who wouldn’t be when you hear that the girl you’re in love with pushes herself so hard that she is physically unwell? That a Healer who was trained for years had to spell that out so clearly for you?”

Where the poison couldn’t finish the job, his words just had- your heart was stopped. But that was surely impossible, because you could feel the telltale burn of blood across your cheeks. Could a girl still blush if her heart was stopped? You dropped your gaze to your hands again.

He chuckled quietly at the look on your face and leaned impossibly closer still.

“But, you don’t have to worry. I won’t look so serious again, because I figured out a solution to my problem.”

“What’s that?” Why was your voice so shaky?

“Since you won’t do it yourself, I’m just going to have to take care of you.”

You looked at his eyes, his impossibly soft brown eyes. And you saw reflected in them for the first time the same feelings you had harbored for him in your own the past two years.

You teared up at the sudden revelation, the tenderness with which he spoke, and the utterly gentle care you had received from him. And you just knew- this was it. This was it for the rest of your life. He smiled back at you just as brightly as you both were quiet in the reverence of such a moment shared between two souls.

The sudden bang of a door could be heard, not from the entry to the wing but from the Healer’s private office. It signaled that she had stepped out. Seonghwa tilted his head and then smirked mischievously at you before quickly climbing into the bed with you.

“Hey!” You laughed as you poked him in the side.

“Don’t act like this isn’t sooo comfortable for your poor healing-from-a-poison body right now.”

“Mm, I can’t deny that.” Now that you were not nauseous or dizzy or delirious anymore, your body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You sighed against his chest and his arms squeezed around you tighter, only this time you could properly enjoy it.

The silence was peaceful.

“Now, I know I’m in your bed, Y/N, but please try to keep your thoughts a little innocent for now. You’re sick, you know. When you feel better, we can revisit all those things you wanted me to do to you in a bed, ok?”

“Shut up!”

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

Anon may not be flirting but I am tf, my partner and I are tryna kiss you Angel 😏 consensually ofc

nah im jp (or am i~) but this leads me into my ask

reader in a throuple with ran and sevika

i read 'throuple with ran and sev' and i passed out and died and was resurrected by sappho herself to make this happen

men and minors dni

okay but imagine you walk into the last drop and ran and sev have been dating for a bit and they see you and come up to you and ran's like 'hey, me and my gf saw you from across the bar and we really dig your vibe' lasjdf;laksjdf;lkj i'd pass out

you and ran would constantly be playing practical jokes on sevika. one of you distracting her with kisses while the other ties her shoelaces together, or both of you answering to each other's names when she calls.

you and sevika would tease ran sexually all. the. time. they're a little feral. so you and sevika kissing in front of them, or groping each other, or even just fondling each other, it drives ran fucking crazy.

sevika and ran would tease you non fucking stop. about everything. the way you chew, if you mispronounce words, sometimes even the way you breathe. you just roll your eyes and bite back the smile threatening to pull up your lips at the sound of your lovers' laughs.

(of course, if anyone else tries to poke fun at you in the same way, they better be prepared for Two Death Glares from your gf and partner-- and then maybe actual death ajsal;sdjlk)

hng, sevika making you and ran make out in bed while she watches?

and you guys get so into it you kinda forget sev's even there until she rips you guys apart and pins one of you to the bed to fuck you, making the other ride their face??

fuckkkkk... getting spitroasted by the two of them

they'd be so into making a mess of you. a lot of times, sex is just sevika and ran competing to see who can make you moan louder.

sevika walking between the two of you, one of her hands in each of your back pockets, a smirk on her lips

you and ran getting into mischief together, then running to your Scary Girlfriend to protect you when someone calls you out on it.

of course, sevika intimidates the fuck outta whoever you pissed off, but then once they leave she just rolls her eyes and glares at the two of you giggling.

constant bickering between sevika and ran because they're both so strong-headed and stubborn. not actual arguments, just little spats and petty disagreements that you have to settle.(you usually settle it by just flashing the two of them. it shuts them both up pretty quickly)

ran and sev bonding over their mech arms and you feel left out :( asking them to chop one of your limbs off so you can fit in and they just laugh at you

having to have a california king sized bed to comfortably fit the three of you (and sevika's giant ass)

ran does all the finances in the house. sevika does the cooking, you do the chores.

but small things like dishes and laundry-- that's on a rotating schedule. (ran always tries to get out of their chores. bribing you and sev with head or money or snacks. sevika will catch you doing laundry on ran's day and snort, 'they got to you, huh?' she asks. you nod. 'i don't think they've done laundry in two weeks now.' she says, shaking her head with a fond smile.)

you and ran make sevika laugh more, you guys make her a whole lot happier. you and sevika bring out ran's wild side, they feel safe enough around the two of you to be completely wild and feral. and, of course, ran and sevika let you be as unapologeticly yourself, not worried about anyone's reaction when you've got two of the strongest mfs in zaun by your side.

god i have a million thoughts about this.

also! be sure to check out @abitohoney's submit! the newest part is a ran/sev/reader threesome. it's so fucking good and hot holy fuck.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #ran arcane

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atinystraynstay · 5 months

Text

3:15AM - Choi Soobin

Synopsis: "It's a quarter after three, saying everything that we mean." Going out is always fun, but coming home is always the best part.

Pairing: idol! Choi Soobin x fem reader Genre: Fluff! Established relationship, tiny bits of smut if you squint but it's more so mentioned

Word Count: 2.4k

My hand loosely held onto Soobin's as I led the way toward my apartment. The sound of my heels clicking against the floor and Soobin's footsteps behind me filled the hallway. Last call at the bar was at 2:30am, which sounded like a good time to head home. It was currently 3:00am.

Life lately has gotten in the way of the two of us getting to spend time together. With Soobin, his attention was required at the company. He was either at dance practice, recording vocals for a new song, or attending meetings to help make decisions that would be best for the group. With me, I've been working towards finishing my undergraduate degree which translated to long hours studying either at home or on campus, attending lecture after lecture, and working at my part-time campus job. It meant that time for just Soobin and I was nearly non-existent.

It was a miracle that this Friday night, neither of us were needed somewhere. Soobin wasn't the type of guy to go out, unlike Yeonjun or Taehyun. He much preferred nights in which we could cuddle up on the couch, watch a K-drama, and bake goodies that could be eaten throughout the weekend. While I normally never turned down such an opportunity to forget about the world and be with my boyfriend, I desperately needed to be around other people. I needed to socialize and rejoin society after being cooped up in the library working on a research paper. My best friend suggested that we get dressed up to feel our best and head out to the bars. Surprisingly, Soobin jumped on the opportunity to come out with the girls.

I never liked being the girl who had to have her boyfriend come out to the bars. If I was going to go out with my friends, I was going to go out with them. It was actually my friends that asked if I wanted to bring Soobin. I can still recall the texts in the group chat.

"We know how much you miss him, y/n. Bring him!" "Yeah, it wouldn't hurt to have a guy around if we decide to bar-hop." "Soobin center!"

"You know you can say no," I said to Soobin. I was getting ready in my bedroom, my back turned towards him as I faced my vanity. My dominant hand held my mascara wand, gently zig-zagging across my eyelashes to get the maximum volume.

"Babe, trust me. I would say no if I didn't want to go. I like your friends. And more importantly, I want to spend time with my girl." Soobin spoke as he slowly approached me. Soon, his arms wrapped loosely around my neck from behind with his chin resting on the top of my head. A gentle smile curled onto my lips as I looked at our reflection. He had just gotten his hair cut with the bangs now falling just short of his eyes. He wore a similar smile on his lips which caused me to feel warm in my stomach. His eyes looked into mine through the reflection.

I knew there was no fighting it. Soobin was coming out to girls' night.

"Aren't you glad I tagged along?" He asked, smirking slightly.

I nodded and giggled. "Yes, of course. I just thought you'd be bored." "Bored? Come on, you and your girls are the life of the party!" "We are really a fun group, huh?"

I could still remember how my friends dragged Soobin to the dance floor. He initially wanted to stand back and allow us to have the space to have fun. Soobin was the ideal guy tonight, not just as my partner, but as a gentleman to all my friends. He started the night by buying a round of shots for the group. He then would check on people to see if they needed water or offered to watch our stuff. Yet, when my best friend saw Soobin sitting in the booth, she decided that had to change. They all encouraged him to join them before pulling him up once he shook his head no. Let's just say, dancing on a packed dance floor is not his niche. There is a reason he preferred dancing on stage and sharing the space with only four other people.

Our footsteps stopped until I reached the door of my unit. The number 345 that were made up of gold-painted metal was nailed to the front door. I had a small brown welcome mat outside, so guests could wipe their feet before entering my apartment. Even though they would slip their shoes off anyways the moment they walked in.

"You know, as much as I loved spending time with you and your friends, there was one thing I kept thinking about," Soobin stated. I hummed lightly under my breath, indicating for him to continue. I had my body slightly turned away from him, fishing for my keys in my pursue. All I could think about was getting back into bed with my boyfriend, getting off my weary feet that ached from dancing. It probably didn't help I chose high heels to wear for tonight.

I was about to put my key in the door, when I felt Soobin's arms wrapped around me. I giggled softly, going to continue unlocking the door when Soobin pulled me in closer. I shivered when I felt his lips against the shell of my ear.

"All I could think about was getting to be home with you."

Without much delay, I managed to unlock the door despite my head spinning thanks to Soobin. His tone and words kept replaying in my head. My heart picked up a bit as I knew now I got to be with Soobin, uninterrupted. It's been tough the past couple of days where Soobin would get home and I was still asleep, or when I was getting up to start my day but he was still sleeping from the night before. That was when he stayed over. There were times when we sometimes would go days without talking to each other besides a simple "goodnight" or "good morning" text, ensuring that we were still thinking of the other person.

Soobin pushed open to my apartment, allowing me to walk in. Quickly, I slipped off my heels. The relief my feet were feeling thanked me for showing some mercy. Soobin chuckled, probably overhearing my sigh, before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. I glanced behind me to see the front door had already been locked. Good job, Soobin. I then turned my heads as I watched his figure move and he walked in the direction of my bedroom, probably where he had placed his belongings since he was staying the night.

I, on the other hand, went towards my bathroom to get rid of my makeup. I had a loose tee-shirt that was folded neatly on my countertop that I could get changed into while Soobin changed.

I opened the cabinet of my bathroom, got out the makeup wipe packet, and pulled one out. I took a few wipes to rid of the mascara, eyeliner, and concealer around my eyes. It felt so nice to get not just the makeup off, but also wipe off some of the sweat gathered from dancing and walking around the city late at night. I then took another wipe to wipe off the lipstick that coated my lips.

Once all the makeup was off of my face, I smiled at my bare face. Soobin always made it known how much he loves my bare face. He loved seeing the freckles that decorated the bridge of my nose and underneath my eyes. He loved connecting the moles that hugged my jawline and cheeks. But if you ask him, feeling my face was his favorite thing. He liked the feeling of being able to cup my cheeks without worrying about smearing makeup. He loved being able to plant kisses all over without restraint. Seeing that there was no makeup left, I tossed the used wipes in the trash.

I was about to unzip my dress but found that my arms weren't able to reach all the way across. Fuck. Good thing I have a partner who can help.

I opened the door to the bathroom, peaking my head out. The TV was off and no lights in the front of the apartment were on. My eyes then looked over toward my bedroom where not only I could hear the shuffling of footsteps but also see my bedroom light on. "Soobs?"

"Yes, my love?" He called out. He had stepped out of my bedroom, a gentle but sleepy smile tugged onto his lips. He was wearing a white tee shirt and black sweatpants, socks still on his feet. His body was relaxed, not standing in a complete posture like he had to when he was out in public or at the company. He took his role not just as an idol seriously but didn't eat to give anyone the wrong impress of him. He looked absolutely adorable.

"Can you please help unzip me?" "It would be a pleasure."

He shuffled his way over towards me. I turned slowly with my back towards him, moving my hair so it was over my shoulder and out of his way. I rocked gently back and forth on my heels in anticipation, waiting for him to come to free me so I could get changed and crawl into bed. His hand reached over to rest on my hip, getting me to calm my body. His other hand gently grasped onto the silver zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down gently.

"You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever met. How did I get so lucky?" He whispered. As the dress loosened around my torso, I slipped the sleeves down. The exposed skin was greeted with lips pressing across the back of my neck and my shoulder blades. A warm blush covered my cheeks as I kept my head down. I held the dress up to keep my breasts concealed as I had gone braless for the evening.

Soobin and I have been intimate plenty of times, but tonight, there was no rush to get to bed. There was no rush to feel him that close, to see the stars with him. I craved the closeness of just knowing he was close by, to be safe and loved in his arms. I'm sure the morning might tell a different story as we've already been deprived of one another.

"Seriously, y/n, baby. Such a gentle heart and completely breathtaking." The dress was close to falling off my body when I felt Soobin remove his presence. "Don't keep me waiting much longer," he said teasingly before disappearing into my bedroom again.

I have never gotten changed so fast before in my life. I left the dress pooled on the floor of my bathroom. I grabbed the tee shirt that was on my counter. It was an old New York Jets tee shirt that was two sizes too big but I got for $2 at the thrift store. It was perfect for nights like this. I slipped the tee shirt on. The shirt was like its own mini dress, stopping short of my thighs. Just one last thing to do.

After turning the lights off in my bathroom, I walked in the direction of my bedroom. I walked to Soobin. I gently pushed the bedroom door open but then closed it behind me. The only light in my room now came from the moonlight shining in. All I could focus on was Soobin.

He was sitting up in my bed, top blanket covering his legs. He had my pink scrunchie hugged around his wrist. Soobin started the small gesture when I stayed over at the dorms but had no scrunchie to put my hair up. He was stuck running all over the dorm, asking all the guys if they had something to use. He then insisted that I should never settle for a regular ponytail again, that I should always have an emergency scrunch nearby. Hence, why he started putting a scrunch around his wrist so he no longer wasted time looking for one and could stay next to me.

He was scrolling through his phone, not noticing me in the bedroom quiet yet. He might have been texting the boys or posting messages for moas on Weverse. How did I get so lucky? Soon enough, as I walked further into the room, Soobin seemed to take notice. He smiled at me before quickly putting his phone on the charger by the nightstand. He turned towards me then. He pushed the comforter out so I could easily slip into the bed, knowing I like to be extra warm in bed especially now that it was getting close to winter. His arms stretched out wide and ready to greet me in his arm embrace.

"You're so silly," I giggled. Without hesitation, I found myself crawling into bed beside him. My arms snaked around his torso, curling into his side. He laughed as I had clung onto him like a koala. He wrapped his arm around me, tightening a bit to get me as close as possible. His other hand moved to make sure I was covered with the sheets as I got comfortable in bed. "But I hope you never change, baby."

"You have my word, angel. I don't intend on changing anytime soon. The only thing I plan on changing is maybe your last name," he whispered. His voice was a bit low and raspy, but it sent bells ringing in my ears. What?

I looked up at him, opening my mouth to question what he meant. He simply just winked and kissed the top of my head. "Nothing, sweetheart. We can talk about it more in the morning. But right now, it is 3:15am and we're both exhausted."

I would interrogate him in the morning. However, the mention of sleep sounds more appealing even though I was curious about my boyfriend's intentions with me. At least we seem to be on the same page.

"You're so lucky I'm-" I yawned mid-sentence. "Sleepy," I spoke softly, my head finding its spot between his neck and shoulder.

He squeezed my body once more as he slid down my bed. "Me too, angel. I want to enjoy being in bed with you for as long as possible." He kissed my forehead once more before my eyes claimed victory and began to close.

"Goodnight, baby. Dream of me as I dream of you."

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dendro-bunny · 2 months

Text

My Only Star

Xavier x (fem) Reader

Genre: Hurt to comfort, fluffy but angsty

Synopsis: He’s an attractive guy, so it’s only natural that he would get a lot of attention. You know he prefers to be incognito, yet that voice in your head is loud and can’t be ignored.

Warnings: Anxiety, body dysmorphia, Jealousy, Depressive thoughts, FLUFFY ENDING I PROMISE

(A/n): hhhhh my bias wrecker. ISTG THAT BUNNY MEMORY HAD ME SQUEALINGDNKAVDKSBD, Also I saw someone say that my last fic made them feel beautiful. YOU ALL ARE BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE YOU AND I FEEL LIKE IM WORTH SOMETHING CAUSE YOU READ AND LIKE MY FICS JDHAHAJVDJA. Anyway TO THE FIC!

———————————————————————————

The sound of your shoes hitting the ground is muffled by the harsh rain. Your pace isn’t slow, but you can’t find the strength to run. The rain doesn’t bother you. It hides the constant flow of tears going down your face.

You know you shouldn’t feel like this. You know it’s stupid. You know he thinks you’re stupid for acting like this. Yet every bone in your body aches with sadness. Because it’s not fair. It’s not right. You were standing right there and it still happened again.

You look across the table at your wonderful hunting partner and boyfriend. You see he begins to doze off again.

“Sorry babe am I boring you?” You give him a cheeky smile. Xavier jolts awake and gives a tired smile.

“It’s not you. I was up late for a job and hadn’t had much sleep. Not to mention rain always makes me sleepy.” He gives a big yawn and rubs his eyes. He picks you hand up and gives it a soft kiss. You feel you face start to heat up.

“Just know, you could never bore me. I sleep easier at your side not because you’re boring but because yours soothing. And I-” He’s interrupted by the waitress coming over with a drink in her hand, menus in the other.

“Hi sorry for the wait, this drink was sent by the lady at the bar over there, in the green. And what can I get you started with today.” You can tell she’s nervous when putting the drink down especially when she sees you hand slink back to your side of the table.

Xavier has an unreadable expression. His eyes locked on the cup then on you. Then he looks over to the bar with his eyebrows furrowed. You turn over slowly fearing the worse.

And your fears come true, she’s gorgeous… From her hair to her heels she’s perfect. Poised and graceful. You can tell by just the way she laughs with the bartender that she’s outgoing. Her body was everything you wish yours was. Ofc she took interest in Xavier they would be perfect together…

“Babe… Babe.” Xavier speaks firmly snapping you back to reality. He gives a concerned look. “Are you ok? It’s your turn to order.” He fiddles with his fingers nervously wondering what is going on in your head.

“Uh- Sorry the game was on the tv over there . Heh, got distracted.” You manage to play it off and order normally. You’re able to push away the thoughts for a second. As the waitress walks away you turn to you hunter boyfriend.

“Are… you going to drink that? Yk, the… gift.” It’s your turn to fiddle as you stare at him with pursed lips.

“Uhm I wasn’t planning on it. Yk I’m not much of a drinker outside of our home.” He gives you a questioning look.

“But… I don’t know what to do with it… I don’t want to be rude…” He really seems deep in thought about it.

You give a small sigh of relief, that immediately gets sucked back in with a gasp and the green dressed lady stands in front of your table.

“Hello cutie… and girl…” she gives you a side eye “I see you’ve got my gift! Why don’t you come to the bar and drink it with me. We don’t want it to go to waste, plus I’m sure sucks in the mud like your friend here don’t party well.” She completely ignores you for him. Giving you snide snarky remarks. You hear giggles at the bar and see similar dressed women in different colors looking over at your boyfriend.

“We’re actually dating.” He says bluntly.

“I’m sure she won’t mind if you have fun. What kind of girlfriend would she be?” She tilts her head and the strap of her dress falls down her shoulder.

You feel your breath picking up, your jaw begins to hurt from holding your tears back. Your hands shake and tremble with every thought.

This is the part he leaves you.

It gonna happen eventually why not now.

He’s too good for you. They are perfect together.

How could you actually believe he would love you when people like her exist.

You stand up and bolt for the door. Xavier’s calls fall deaf on your ears. Only the bell of the restaurant’s door is heard as you speed to the nearest train station. Which is where you are now. At least you’re out of the rain in the underground station. You can feel the pneumonia seeping into your bones. That feeling is none compared to the heart ache you feel. He hadn’t even chased after you. He probably is with her right now.

You rub your shoulders to shake off the cold. Then you feel a warmth cloth being set on your shoulders. You look at see ash blond hair and blue nebula eyes staring at you.

“I was looking all over for you… I didn’t see where you went cause our food came and I knew you would be hungry so I asked for to-go plates.” You look and see the bag in his hands. You turn back to face the train and stare ahead. Your eyes sore and dry from all the tears ripped from your tear ducts.

“Did you think she was pretty… Of course you did… how couldn’t you. I mean look at her, not a strand of hair out of place. I wish I had her body…” You brush your hair out of your face as it sticks to you. You’re soaked and couldn’t care less about the fact you look like a drowned rat.

“She was perfect, you would be nice together-“ you speech is ended by his lips crashing into yours. Normally is kisses are chaste and soft, conveying is endless patience and care for you. But this kiss of full of unconditional love and all the words of assurance you could ever get. He’s not the best with words he knows that. But today he’s willing to try.

“Fuck her. Not literally like I wanna fuck her. I- hhh I mean to hell with her. I don’t want to spend my entire existence with some girl who throws herself at every attractive man she sees.” His motions to towards the restaurant. You can see he’s struggling with how to convey how he feels. He collects his thoughts and speaks again.

“I don’t want to be with someone who only looks at me from the outside. I want you.” He cups your face.”

“I only want you. Out of all the stars in the sky you shine the brightest. Because you’re my star. My only star. The perfect laugh, the perfect body, the perfect personality, the perfect smile, the perfect heart. You are my one and only perfect star.” He gives you the most passionate kiss he can muster. Hoping you reciprocate it.

When you do he relaxes in the kiss. You begin to sob into his chest with you pull away. Apologizing for ruining the night. Him insisting that it wasn’t you how ruined the night.

“How about we go home, I’d much rather be there than some restaurant and bar. Plus I’m tired of people hitting on us.” You give him a questioning look.

“Oh when you left the bar. Some guy asked if you were single now and I punched him in the throat… which is also why I took so long and we’re- I’m not allowed back at the restaurant.” He gives you an awkward smile.

You begin to bend over laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “You’re not the type to punch someone!”

“He was just unlucky, I wanted to punch something and he spoke last. Honestly he had it coming.” You laugh harder and in your laughter you miss the way he gives you a soft smile.

How could you not know he’s beyond whipped for you. He would transcend space and time just to be with you in the next life… like he has before.

He’ll do it again.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s 4:30 am as I’m finishing this. What did I say about bias wrecker?! HELLO SIR GET OUT MY HEAD!

Guys understand something though you are not your body, or looks. You are a person with feeling and emotions and every feeling you experience is valid and someone has felt something similar to. And I love you for who you are and what you could be. Not what you were and what you aren’t 🫶

#bunnix #bunnix writes #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lnd #xavier l&ds #xavier lad #love and deepspace #love and deepspace Xavier #xavier #love yourself

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kiteblue42 · 6 months

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Part 4 of - what the heck is going on with Mobius anyway?

S2e5 - the one with where they get the band back together

Disclaimer- I’m a single parent and found it hard to be objective watching this one. For me this episode was a very perfect reflection of how hard, lonely it can be to bring up children by yourself and how you willingly give up so much of yourself for them. They did this very well - I hope they don’t screw this up in the final episode.

A good life, but not a happy one

Mobius timeline life is good but not super happy. He comes across as struggling and lonely. Mobius works 6 days a week, he tries to sell Loki one of his jet skis that he no longer can use, he’s constantly being interrupted at work by his kids, the house is chaos and he had to leave the boys to fend for themselves selves while he was at work (therefore he has no friends or family to watch them or money to pay for childcare). This is a person struggling to keep it together, but he does manage to do so for his boys and he manages to stay kind and positive towards them. The boys are the top of his list of priorities “I can’t leave my boys”/ “I need to check on the kids” “I got to get back to my boys” “I’ll know”. This all speaks of someone who has given up his own wants for the kids and feels guilty about doing anything for himself.

Given the slightly flippant tone of “long gone” when discussing his wife I think it likely she left rather than died (or blipped) - as that’s not how a grieving widower is likely to speak (especially if he might be overheard by the boys).

The whisper of adventure

There are a number of signs that Mobius has a desire for adventure. His love of jet skis, the fact he immediately agreed to try out the time door, how much he loved the idea of being “Mobius.” (“Mobius is a pretty cool name”)

The idea of being your better self

It wasn’t just adventure for fun that’s calling his name though but also the idea of being something more. Mobius reacted emotionally to the idea of himself as someone that would “save my life when I first arrived”. His delivery of “I sell Jet Skis man” showed how little he thought of himself, but also a desire to be something more.

Loneliness

This exchange killed me:

Loki “you saved my life when I first arrived. You saw something in me I hadn’t seen in myself”

Mobius “Are you really my friend?”

Loki “I am”.

Just the way Mobius says this tell us how much he really really wants to believe he could have a friend like this.

Loki’s view of Mobius

Once again the major topic of conversation between Sylvie and Loki is Mobius (this is becoming a theme - and if they do get Sylvie and Loki together it’s just mad and funny).

Anyway this conversation tells us that Loki believed Mobius when he said the TVA was the “only life he knew” and that he “liked it”. Of course there’s an element of this being wishful thinking on Loki’s part, but he is pretty insistent that Mobius should be given the choice. So Loki thinks (at least until Sylvie talks him out of it) that there is a good chance Mobius would chose the TVA - and himself. And as Frigga once said (Thor: dark world) Loki is “.. so perceptive about everyone but yourself”. So I don’t think we should dismiss Loki’s perception about Mobius. (He is also pretty insistent in his conversation with Mobius that “this is not the life of the man I know”. And there’s enough for viewers to see “Mobius” is more at ease with himself than “Don”.)

Sylvie undermines this and persuades Loki he is being selfish. (Side note - Sylvie puzzles me this season and in particular in this episode- if you watch closely she sees that her McDonalds meal disappears and Loki’s drink in the bar disappear too - but says nothing to Loki and does everything to stop Loki from trying to fix it - is it just denial or something more sinister?)

Last episode

So some theory based predictions for Ep 6

Themes that still need payoff:

- order & chaos

- Partners & Friends & loneliness

- Hard choices

Th end of the last episode has me thinking we may get a happy ending because it would be narratively neat to leave Loki surrounded by his new TVA family - especially after the way last episode was concluded.

It would pay off the themes positively as follows:

order & chaos - Loki (chaos) working with TVA (order) to give balance

Partners & Friends & loneliness - Loki and his misfit friends get to stay together so they don’t have to be alone

Hard choices - this one worries me but it would be possible for a number of hard choices to be made that still ends up in a good place (even if it doesn’t seem like it will at the time).

Hard choices Mobius

I think this is aimed specifically at Mobius - Loki made his hard choice in Ep 5 when he was willing to let this team go. I’m hoping they will be able to square the circle with Mobius and his family, because he’ll *not* be ok without the boys or without Loki (& the TVA).

Given this is a time travel show with magic I don’t see why they can’t find an solution to that - because the issue is about not having enough time to both look after the boys and look after yourself. I’ll be super disappointed if they make this unnecessarily miserable by making Mobius give up either his fulfilling life & friends at the TVA or his boys. Though I also won’t be surprised to see this as a plot point. If they try to sell it to me as Mobius being super happy to return to his life I’ll be doubly annoyed.

In theory the boys timeline should be long gone so this choice should not exist, but they seem to be setting up this hard choice for Mobius in particular ( so maybe the loom explosion was meant to be a full reset).

Hanging threads & wild cards

X5 /Brad /Zaniac - is still in the TVA - is he going to cause chaos as they try to fix the loom?

Renslayer - is in the void - will she tame Alioth? Is Miss Minutes really gone or does she have another instance in the citadel at the end of time?

Kang - is HWR really behind everything? Are all the events just one pre-planned trap of HWR?

Sylvie - Sylvie knew more than she has told anyone (eg she saw the disappearance of items and said nothing). She has HWR tempad. Loki treats her like she has words of wisdom so we also tend to accept she is right or benign, but her last piece of advice was completely wrong. She has been acting pretty oddly all season too - what’s up with that? (Worth remembering she is a Loki variant and they are generally not to be trusted).

Romance

My own reading of Mobius remains that he lost his heart to Loki sometime around S1e2. By S1e5 he’d accepted this, but concluded it wasn’t going anywhere - so conveniently he didn’t need to exactly work out what the feelings were. Mainly because Loki was focused on Sylvie. This episode doesn’t change that since we don’t get any TVA Mobius.

Loki on the other hand did give more away this episode - and it was the first one (for me) where it looked like his feelings could be romantic or at least headed that way. Whenever he talks about saving his friends we all know this primarily means Mobius. I mean how much interaction has he really had with the others? The discussion in the bar was particularly instructive- he wants Mobius to have the choice (this is *after* seeing him on the timeline when he knows what Mobius would be giving up) and he desperately hopes Mobius would choose to stay with him. But Sylvie persuades him otherwise.

Sylvie - there is really no sign of the romance from last season left here. Loki does still greatly admire Sylvie. I’d say Loki almost hero worships her - and especially takes what she says about free will and choice as authoritative (as if she were an expert on it). This is consistent with his romantic feelings from s1e4,5&6 which seemed to grow out of his admiration for her radical / free spirit nature. But by this episode it didn’t seem to be romantic any more - rather a mentor / mentee conversation. Loki did not declare he wanted Sylvie back or even anything close to it - and it would have been the obvious time to do that.

Sylvie has never seemed particularly romantically interested in Loki to me. She kissed him to distract him in s1e6 and no doubt thinks he’s quite hot, but that’s all I’m getting. I actually like this about her as a character (she’s just not that into you Loki sorry). I hope she is a bit more villainous than we know (a bit more basic Loki if you will) otherwise she has been a bit of a spare part this season.

I am not expecting any romance from the last episode though mainly because:

(1) I don’t think there is time to do either romance option justice with all the other plot points to be resolved (2) romance is not central to the plot of season 2 - they have pushed the friendship / found family theme hard and that will do for plotting & emotional payoff purposes, and (3) if you want to be commissioned for season 3 you don’t resolve romantic tension. We’re on Tumblr so we all know there are a significant chunk of fans of any media that follow the stories for the romance aspect - and we all know this audience is likely to be very loyal, vocal on social media and will predictably turn up to watch the next season just to see how it plays out. If they resolve a romance arc either way too early they kill a lot of interest in season 3 - people are always more interested in “will they won’t they” than an established relationship.

#loki #mobius #loki spoilers #lokius #mobius m mobius #lokius meta #loki season 2 #loki season 2 theories #loki meta

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panda-writes-kpop · 6 months

Text

bloodsucker, famefucker

A/N: Happy early Halloween, folks! For those who are unaware, I post a light-hearted, sweet fluffy fic and then something more on the horror, gore side of things. This fic is my horror one, so I'd skip this if you're more of a fluff person! I hope the haunted season has gone well for you, and I look forward to bringing more Halloween joy next week. :)

TW: Vampires, horror-esque descriptions, blood, violence against Reader/SuA, home invasion, biting, major character death, mentions of cheating and being a bad partner, OOC SuA, friendship break-ups, the best kind of angst, magic but I bend it to the plot's will, partying, alcohol mentions (everyone mentioned is old enough to partake)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by Vampire (Olivia Rodrigo) and Control (Halsey), and the lovely @sanccharine mishaps gone right series. 🫶 ty for reading this fic ahead of time, and I apologize for any future transgressions in relation to a sequel. ;)

Word Count: 5.2K

( <- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

Summary: You're stuck in a rut a few months after your break-up with Bora, but a friendly date helps you feel ready to jump back into dating. Your ex, however, decides that she has to stick her fangs into you one last time to show who's really over who.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Vampires suck.”

“Yeah, well, no shit,” Yoohyeon sighs before throwing her flashcards against the table, “how am I supposed to pass this exam with basic information like that?”

You sit across from the table in a private study booth on the second floor of the campus library. Yoohyeon, your best friend since high school, is studying for her first Vampiric History exam as you are trying, and horribly failing, to focus on your homework for Applied Mathematics For Sorcery.

Your focus falls back to the screen as your phone displays a bright collection of images from someone you followed. Her smile is bright and immortal, given the sharp front teeth that are proudly bared, but that’s not what you’re focused on.

The fourth picture, since you had dared to scroll that far, was the same vampire locking lips with another vampire from a different coven.

The problem was that you had forgotten to block all of your ex-girlfriend’s friends on all social media, and you were currently staring at a picture of SuA kissing someone else two months after you broke up.

You carelessly toss your phone on the table, forgetting to lock the screen, as Yoohyeon curiously eyes your phone.

“Don’t tell me you’re-“

“-She cheated on me, Yooh. How am I supposed to forgive her?”

“You didn’t, and you walked away from her,” She digs in her backpack, presumably for a snack, “as you should have.”

“Is it okay to not be over her?”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Yoohyeon tosses a granola bar across the table for you before opening hers, “it’s her loss. You’re the coolest person I know.”

A light smile rests on her face - Yoohyeon always knew how to make you feel better.

“Thanks, Yooh,” You say as you grab the granola bar on the table, “do you have any clue how to solve geometry in relation to spell casting?”

“No, so we’re going to go ask Dami for help.”

You shrug before closing your computer and beginning to pack your stuff up.

“Works for me.”

“Dami-ah!” Yoohyeon pounds on the dormitory door as you pull your backpack over your shoulder.

Your mind wanders back to the photos you saw earlier as Minji, SuA, and Siyeon partied together as if you all weren’t close a few months ago.

As if it wasn’t your fault that your friend group was split in two.

“Dami, answer the damn door before Yoohyeon breaks it down!” Handong calls from the inside as Yoohyeon continues to rap her knuckles against the door.

“I got it!” Gahyeon yells before the door opens. “You guys could have called-“

“I know, but we wanted to surprise you-“

“-You need help with your homework?”

“We do.” You mumble in defeat as Gahyeon gives you a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you, y’know?” She rubs your shoulder before giving you a reassuring look. “You’re more than welcome here at any time, okay?”

“Thank, Gahyeon,” You pause as you let out a deep breath, “I needed a distraction.”

“You saw Bora’s post, didn’t you?” Gahyeon rolls her eyes before closing the door behind you and

Yoohyeon. “We should throw a party, or like a mixer! It would be so much better than what she did.”

“As long as it’s not in this dorm room, I’m down with the idea.” Handong adds in as she is perched on the top bunk of the bunk bed.

Gahyeon crashes on the bunk below Handong as Yoohyeon hops on the bed on the other side of the room.

“Dongie, have you started studying for that exam yet?” Yoohyeon asks as she pulls out her notecards.

“A bit. Do you want to study together?”

“Please help me.” Yoohyeon sets her backpack on the bed as you set your stuff on the bed next to hers.

Your eyes turn to the desk next to the bunk bed where Dami is studying for one of her more advanced classes.

“Do you need help with math?” She asks while doing a computation on her phone.

“I could use help for Applied Mathematics in Sorcery from my favorite sorceress.” You teasingly say as you grab some materials from your backpack.

Dami raises one hand up, and without breaking attention from her studies, she pulls another chair up to the desk.

“Thanks for that,” You set down your notebook, pencil, and computer, “and I apologize in advance because you’re going to need to re-explain this entire chapter to me.”

“Why does everything you say make more sense than whatever the professor was going on in class?” You sigh in relief as you submit a perfect homework assignment online.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help with anything.” Dami takes care to emphasize the last word as your phone buzzes.

“I’m sorry,” You pause for a moment to grab your phone from the table, “let me look at this before we change subjects.”

You open up the notification that takes you straight to your text messages.

Unknown Number: Jagi, I’m sorry that I hurt you so much.

Babe, why won’t you answer my texts? I know you blocked me but I missed up.

*Messed ypu.

Fuck, I just miss you, and I’m not sorry about it.

“Who is it?” Yoohyeon peeks over the top of the bunk bed as you toss your phone to her.

Dongie manages to catch it before Yoohyeon’s face does, and they gasp in sync with one another.

“She did not-“

“Oh, she did,” Yoohyeon looks at the alarm clock with a chuckle, “and she’s already drunk before nine o’clock.”

A hand on your right arm pulls you back to Dami, who looks at you with confusion and concern mixed together in her gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired of the constant reminders that I wasn’t enough for her. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever truly be over her, or if I’m just going to miss her for the rest of my life.” You quietly admit as Gahyeon snatches your phone out of Dongie’s grasp.

“What are you-“

“-That’s it! I’ve had enough of them,” Gahyeon spits out before grabbing her phone, “and we’re going to do something about it. Everyone, clear your schedules on October 30th. We’re throwing the best party that this campus has ever seen!”

Gahyeon hands you back your phone, and you quickly shove it in your pocket as she starts typing on her phone.

“This is great and all, Gahyeon,” Handong climbs down the bunkbed to grab something from the mini fridge, “but I’m only okay with this plan if they are.”

Dongie’s eyes meet yours as she quickly places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before bending to grab a drink from the mini fridge next to you.

“I think it’ll be fun, especially with Gahyeon planning it.” You gently move Handong’s hand from your shoulder as you nod at Gahyeon. “Just let me know what I need to bring, okay?”

Gahyeon cheerfully pumps her free hand in the air as the other girls laugh at her antics.

“Okay, Yooh and Dongie, since you’ve got the most experience with party planning, I’ll need you to-“

Your eyes go back to Dami, who wistfully stares at the girls in front of her.

“You don’t have to go, y’know?” You take her hand on your arm and interlace your fingers with hers as you set your hands on the table, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable just for my sake.”

“I don’t mind, I promise. I just don’t like going to parties that-“ She pauses until you nod at her for permission, “Bora and Siyeon used to drag me to.”

“If Gahyeon gets too out of hand, Dongie will reel her back in. I want this to be something fun for all of us, a moment to stop worrying about school for a night.”

“Are you sure that school is all that’s on your mind?” Her eyes dare to read within your mind, and despite the turbulence within your heart, you find yourself at peace when discussing such matters with Dami.

“I don’t know if I miss SuA anymore, or if I just miss having someone to tell every silly little thing to.” You confess.

“You know I’m always available to talk to you, no matter the hour or day, right?” She asks as you nod, “As for the other matter, why not put yourself out there again? Just go on a less formal date, something low-commitment, to see if you want to go back into the realm of dating.”

There’s a spark of expectation and hopefulness in her as her eyes linger on your intertwined hands for a moment, but her gaze quickly returns back to you as you open your mouth.

I wonder what that was about…

“For someone who doesn’t do a lot of dating, you have awfully good dating advice,” You tease as a small blush crosses her face, “and that’s not a bad idea. I think it would be good to put myself out there again, just

as a test.”

Dates were something of a new area for you, as most of your dates with SuA included staying home and studying or going out with friends and partying. You were also around a group, so you had the comfort of a friend to look at for.

Here, in the coffee shop, it was just you, the coffee cup you were holding on to for dear life, and a cute elven girl named Chou Tzuyu.

“How are you finding your studies?” She asks before tucking a small piece of hair behind her ear.

You were, to say the least, mesmerized by her beauty, so you cough and shyly look away when you notice that she is speaking to you.

“They’re going well, but having an individualized major instead of a set path of study can be stressful at times.” You admit as you recall your struggles with math earlier in the week. “Math has been a struggle for me, but I have a friend who is bright like you.”

“I’m not the only one you get answers from?” She raises an eyebrow at you as you scoff.

“I can do the homework for my humanity-focused classes, but these sorcery classes are kicking my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you think of the pile of math homework awaiting you. “I’m thankful for your help with the history classes, you are a lifesaver.”

“You’re helping me practice teaching when I go for advanced studies at the university, so I am thankful for you as well.”

You take a small sip from your cup as your thoughts wander again.

This is going okay, and she’s really pretty, but I’m not feeling anything special like I did with-

“Why did you ask me on a date?” Tzuyu directly asks as your heart sinks in your chest.

Oh no, she’s going to think this is a rebound and I’m going to lose another friend after everything-

“You don’t have to tell me, though,” She gently grabs your hand before you squeeze your coffee cup past its

breaking point, “but I think there’s someone else you’d rather be here with, no?”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows jump to the top of your forehead as an amused smile dances across her features.

“Oh, you didn’t know that she…” Tzuyu trails off before shaking her head. “It’s not my business, though. You’ve got a great group of friends behind you.”

“Does that still include you?”

“Of course, who else will help you with your history classes?”

You smile before taking another sip from your coffee cup.

Maybe this ‘date’ wasn’t a total failure.

You slip through the large crowd of people who have collected in the living room of Gahyeon’s friend’s house. She was out of town for a couple of weeks, right around Halloween, so Gahyeon got permission to do so. The only caveat was that the five of you had to clean up and stay the night to make sure the house was taken care of, but Gahyeon roped everyone into it without much worry.

Without a red solo cup in your hand, you do stand out, but Gahyeon committed to having a dry party that could still be fun without excessive drinking. You had to hand it to her - the set up of the party and the house allowed for all sorts of activities for all sorts of people.

You were in charge of food, so after grabbing another food tray for the spare bedroom, you were trying to make it through the crowd in one piece. While batting stray hands and partiers away, you offer a quick wave to Tzuyu, who stands in the corner by herself.

She joins your side once you break from the crowd, and you make a sharp left as she follows your pace.

“The party’s great.” She says as you knock on the bedroom door.

“You should be thanking Gahyeon. This is all her idea, I just showed up with a few food trays.” You push any praise to Gahyeon, who opens the door with a large smile.

“Thank you!” She snatches the tray from your hands as Tzuyu leans on the doorframe. “You both are welcome to come in - we’ve got plenty of board games to spare!”

“I thought you would’ve been out with the music and partiers, Gahyeon.” You step inside the room before looking back at Tzuyu. “You want in?”

“I think I’ll head back to the living room. Dahyun said she’s challenging someone to a dance-off, and I have money riding on her winning it, so I need to make sure my investment was worth it.”

You laugh to yourself before waving her off.

“Have fun with that, Tzuyu.”

She nods before disappearing back into the hallway.

You turn to look at Gahyeon, who admires you with wide eyes.

“So…?”

“There’s nothing between us, I promise,” You grab a piece of cheese from the tray and toss it in your mouth,

“but it was nice to try to go on a date. I’ve been missing that sort of connection in my life.”

“That’s good-“

“Ah, Yoohyeon, the point of the game is to avoid my property-“ Dongie teases Yoohyeon from the left side of the bed as Yoohyeon folds her arms and huffs.

“Yah, you’re so mean to me!”

“Pay up,” Handong holds out her hand for money, and Yoohyeon reluctantly places the cash in her hand, “now, was that so hard?”

“I don’t like this game,” Yooh pouts before her eyes land on you, “c’mon, we should play a new game so all of us can play together.”

“The five of us can play Monopoly-“ Dami chimes in as Gahyeon sets the tray down on the nightstand.

“-Let’s just play Mario Kart before Yoohyeon owes Handong real money.” You settle the argument by turning

on the Switch as Yoohyeon cheers.

“See, I knew you’d have my back!”

Gahyeon and Handong are perched on the bed as you and Yoohyeon sit against the front of the bed. Dami moved her chair closer to the TV so the five of you can play together.

Most of the freeloading partiers have gone home, so there’s no need for the five of you to take shifts to manage the crowd. The only people left are friends of friends who are raiding the last of the snacks and drinks before heading out of the door.

“That was a really successful party, Gahyeon,” You say as the winning animation plays on the screen, “and it looks like everyone who came had a great time.”

Gahyeon smiles brightly before excitedly pulling out her phone.

“I bet the whole party is all over everyone’s socials,” She taps her screen a few times before her eyes widen, “oh shit!”

Your head snaps back, along with Yoohyeon’s, at her exclamation.

Dongie leans over to look at Gahyeon’s phone, and she has a remorseful look on her face.

“Minji was here.”

“Minji was here?” You and Dami say at the same time as Yoohyeon immediately stands up.

“I’m going to go out and chase everyone else off… just in case we have any lurkers.” Malice slips into the last word she speaks as Yoohyeon quickly exits the room.

You want to offer to help, but you don’t think you can face her after everything that has happened with Bora.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Dami slides off her chair before sitting next to you, “we chose to stand by you when everything happened.”

“You all were friends long before Bora and I got together, and I-“ You pause as tears threaten to fall from your face, “I ruined everything.”

“You ruined nothing,” Dongie reaches towards you and rubs your back for a moment before looking at the phone again, “but I learned that some of my friends weren’t who I thought they were.”

“If I had known…” Gahyeon wistfully says before putting her phone aside, “If I had known that SuA had cheated on you, I would’ve told you right away. The worst part about everything wasn’t hearing it from you - no, we heard it directly from her, and she was proud of what she did.”

Gahyeon sniffles before the waterworks come out, and you find yourself wiping away tears as Handong wraps an arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” Dami repeats as you lay your head on her shoulder, “I would choose you a thousand times over. I think about how everything played out, sometimes, when I go to sleep, but I don’t regret anything. I met one of the best people in my life after everything that happened, and I couldn’t be more thankful.”

“Minji and Siyeon chose their sides, as we chose ours,” Handong reassures you while holding on to Gahyeon, “and I don’t miss the drama, the fights, and the black-out parties.”

You laugh as you wipe away more tears.

“Those parties were awful,” You reminisce as a memory comes to mind, “I remember having to nearly carry SuA home because she was drunk past the point of walking straight.”

“Forget walking - Siyeon tried to kiss me!” Handong exclaims as you laugh alongside her.

“I do miss them, sometimes,” You softly admit while playing with your shirt sleeve, “and I wonder if things had played out differently, if we’d still be friends.”

“I think those ‘what-ifs’ are better left alone, at least for tonight,” Dami gently wraps her arm around your shoulder as you lean into her body more, “we’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

“Babe, c’mon! Pictures are fun.” SuA tugged on your sleeve as you fixed your hair in the reflection of your phone screen.

“I don’t look my best, and you always look so much better than I do.” You pull your sleeve away from her before putting your phone away.

“At least you can see what you look like!” SuA yells before stomping off to go meet with the campus photographer.

Confusion mixed with anxiety makes an unholy cocktail, one that’s worse than whatever is in the red solo cup in your hand. You toss the drink to the side of the yard before throwing the cup away as the thought of SuA’s recent uptick in outbursts gnaws at your mind.

Was it you? Did you say something wrong? Your hair and outfit really was a mess from dancing at a crowded party, and you weren’t in the mood to get photographed. Was that such a grievance in your mind?

You probably struck a bad nerve by looking at your phone, considering her lack of reflection, so it would be best if you apologized so you could move on. You wonder how many more times she’ll run off before you stop chasing her.

You shake off the thought, she’s probably just stressed from midterm exams. You push through the crowd of people in the backyard as you head inside the frat house. Before you lost sight of her, she had been heading to the living room to see the photographer that wanted to take a picture of “the happy couple”.

Only if they knew.

You break through the crowd once you’re inside, and a quick glance to the left tells you that you’re not getting through the line of people waiting to use the restroom. You turn to the right, and are met with a frightening display in the living room.

Your girlfriend, the girl you adored from the moment you met her, had her hands and lips all over someone else.

Part of your heart, part of your innocence, and part of your joy shriveled up and died in that moment, but not just because of SuA.

It was watching two of your older friends, the two people you trusted most, watch the scene in front of them unfold as if nothing was wrong. You didn’t scream or cry, not right away. You simply turned back around, pushed through the crowd of people with more force than before, and got a ride home.

A simple text saying “We’re done” and a few blocked phone numbers and social media accounts were enough justice for you, but the world is a karmic bitch who likes to have the last laugh. Before you blocked SuA, she had posted a video of the scene you had just witnessed, with one simple caption:

“For you, my dear.”

In a sweat, you pull the blanket off of you and sit up on the air mattress. Gahyeon sleeps peacefully to your left (the girls played rock-paper-scissors for the spot and she won), and Yoohyeon and Handong are fighting over the covers on the bed in their sleep.

After rubbing your eyes and grabbing your phone, you glance over to the cot where Dami was sleeping, only to notice that she was no longer there.

Weird.

Turning on your phone, you blind yourself with the power of a thousand suns before looking at the time.

2:33 a.m., and I went to bed at 1:00 a.m. It’s going to be a long night.

Nightmares came and gone, but they were always supposed to be based in fantasy or fear, not reality.

Having the same scenario play out, over and over again, as if you can change anything that had happened, was maddening.

You would usually call one of your friends when you felt like this, but they were all sleeping peacefully, so you decided to look for the other person who would be awake at this hour. Dami was one of the first asleep most nights, so your calls and texts would go unanswered, but she was always the first to text or call you back if she missed your call.

She had always been a pillar of calm confidence, of self-assured belief in oneself, and you question what had brought you two together during orientation to the university. Perhaps you looked like a duckling who had lost sight of its mother, or perhaps she was just as lost as you. Either way, you had found one another and had been inseparable since.

Dami had been the one to introduce you to her friends, and you had gotten along especially well with SuA. Push comes to shove, one night’s confession turns to love, and the two of you were dating. If you were to be technical, everything that had happened so far was Dami’s fault, in a way.

Guilt buries itself in your consciousness as you shift blame from Dami to yourself. It wasn’t her fault that SuA had acted in such a way. The two of you were fundamentally different people - she liked parties and darkness and temporary pleasure, and you liked quiet afternoons and board game nights with friends and working towards a goal greater than yourself. What had drawn you to each other was tearing your relationship apart - you had nothing in common, but yet again, you had nothing in common.

You’re careful to not blind yourself as you check the time on your phone.

2:34 a.m.

You get out of bed, as quietly as possible, before gently opening the bedroom door. You notice that a light

has been left on towards the direction of the kitchen, so you head that way.

A creak in the floorboards underneath you causes you to pause, as if you’re some sort of horror protagonist. You can imagine how they’d jump and scream, but you were simply worried about waking your friends… right?

You walk much slower as the kitchen starts to come into view. A figure stands by the kitchen island while wringing off their hands with a towel.

“Dami?”

Their head snaps in your direction, and you sigh before slipping your phone in your pocket.

“I’m happy to see you because I can’t seem t-“

When you go into the kitchen, their face is revealed in the light, and a scream threatens to break from your lips.

A disheveled SuA stands in front of you, and she’s covered head-to-toe in blood splatters. When she smiles at you, blood leaks from her lips and drips onto the tile flooring.

As your mouth opens, SuA makes a quick maneuver towards you and pins you to the nearest wall.

“You know,” She gasps for air as she eyes your neck, “we could’ve done this the easy way while you were sleeping.”

“Fuck y-“

Her hand covers your mouth as she bares her teeth and plunges them into your neck. You scream into her mouth, but her strength is no match for yours. You’re sure a dagger in the neck would be more comfortable as she carelessly drinks from you.

You had imagined your death before, but it was nothing like this. You had to fight back, one way or another.

As your vision starts to soften due to blood loss, you scan your surroundings for something to help you. On a table within your grasp, you notice that a wooden spoon used for punch had been haphazardly left there without being cleaned up.

I hope no one can tell the difference between two red liquids…

You manage to grab the spoon before the strength in your body starts to give out. Color and brightness and darkness and nothingness swirl in your vision as you attempt to plunge the dagger into her heart.

The coldness of the floor meets your check, and survival instincts kick in as you slowly crawl away. Your vision dances with the cold lighting as you pull yourself towards the light. A strangled cry escapes you as something grabs onto your leg with crawls tearing into the flesh of your thigh.

You’ve lost your weapon, so you can only assume that it has made contact with SuA or did enough to scare her off. Your eyes adjust to the surroundings as your neck burns with the pain of a hundred bee stings. The grip on your leg loosens as you crawl towards what looks to be a phone.

You hope you can get to the phone before you pass out as a wave of nausea causes you to place your head on the floor.

“Did you hear that scream? I think someone next door had too much to drink-“ Gahyeon’s voice is the last thing you remember before your eyes shut permanently.

Heat soaks your body as your eyes open to a light being projected right into your eyes.

“I don’t know how much more I can do… the puncture wounds are too deep.”

A soft hand is placed against your neck as the light is pulled from directly above you to the side.

“You’re awake...” Dongie sits to your side as your head turns the opposite way to look at the rest of your surroundings.

“SuA… she-“

“Don’t worry about SuA, she’s dead.”

Your head snaps towards Handong as your breathing quickens.

“Dead-“

“Why would you say that? You’re going to kill them before they have a chance to make a proper recovery.”

Yoohyeon leans on Handong as you start to see more of what surrounds you.

You’ve been moved from the kitchen to the living room, but time has barely passed. The darkness outside starts to creep in as your vision slowly fades to black.

“We’re losing them-“ Handong cries out as someone else walks toward you.

“Dami!”

You push away the darkness as you immediately prop yourself up on your elbows. Handong supports your back with both of her hands as Yoohyeon places a washcloth against your neck.

“Don’t do that-“ Handong begins to scold you before

“It’s okay,” Dami raises her hand before sitting beside you, “we need them awake.”

“Is this going to work?” Yoohyeon softly asks as your eyes dance around, looking for another person.

“Gahyeon is out looking for Minji, Siyeon, and Tzuyu,” Dami calmly answers as you look back at her, “and I just need you to focus on staying awake. We’ll be okay as long as you’re okay.”

Dami reaches for a book as you focus on your breaths.

Do this one thing for them - it’s easy enough.

You fight against the numbness, the pain inside of you as Dami flips through the book with ease until her hand finds the right page.

“Are binding spells safe?” Yoohyeon asks as Handong scoffs.

“Not in the slightest, but they’re better than resurrection spells.” Handong rubs your back before looking back at Yoohyeon.

“Are you serious? We’re using untamed magic-“

“-Resurrection spells are untamed magic, binding spells are unreliable-“ Dami corrects as Yoohyeon raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“-you have to be kidding me!”

Your head falls back as your resistance starts to fail.

“Dami, hurry up-“

“-I’ve got it.” Dami takes your spare hand and intertwines it with hers. “Do you trust me?”

“I always have,” You mutter as your eyelids flutter rapidly, “and I always will.”

She glances away for a moment before closing the book and tossing it aside.

Dami mutters something in a tongue unknown to you as a soft purple smoke surrounds the both of you.

“Get away-“ Handong backs off from you as you support yourself with your arms.

“They can’t-“ Yoohyeon argues for a moment before Handong drags her away from you.

The purple smoke grows closer and closer around the two of you until it disappears just as quickly as it

came.

Your resolve cracks and crumbles until nothing inside of you is left to fight.

I should have never introduced the two of you, this wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful-

Dami’s voice rings through your mind as her eyes pierce your soul.

It was never your fault, you answer her with your thoughts, and I’d do it all over again if it means I got to be close with you.

You’re out before your head hits the pillow, but not before a small tear runs down Dami’s cheek.

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