#so maybe if i like. layer things in a certain way?

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

i think sometime soon i need to do some skin tone tests with my prismacolors, and then some tests with forcing my camera to pick up said skin tones well

because like

i can do light skin tones

i can do dark skin tones but my camera will pick up on all of my paper bits

and i can do one nice medium skintone, but trying to use my pencils properly to get anything lighter or darker than that specific color combo and it suddenly doesn't look like a human skin tone because i think there's some issue with how I'm blending my pencils or like the individual undertone of each pencil or something

and it's gotten extremely frustrating!!! so i need to get all my pinks and browns and my undertones together and try to get a good fucking gradient for those mid tones especially

[unproduciblesmackdown]

come get your levitous sidekick / vicious bastard / funny little guys

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Recount Your Kids, Batman

[A loose continuation to this post]

Talia doesn't visit the Wayne manor. At least not regularly nor officially. All the batkids and Batman know she comes sometimes, just to check up on Damian and maybe bother Bruce from time to time, but this is the first time she has ever shown up to a dinner.

And, as they all take their seats, she gives Damian a long curios glance. Then, she looks to Bruce.

"Is that everyone?" She asks, easy and lighthearted. One might think she is simply not acquainted with the number of Wayne children or that she is teasing Bruce on the sheer amount of them. But Damian is looking down to his plate, and Tim knows for sure Talia keeps up with Wayne's head count, and Dick is fairly certain Talia would never tease Bruce, at least not so subtly.

It could have been some sort of a hint at Jason. If he was not here, that is. But he is, for once, so this is really all the family at one table.

"Yes?" Dick tries, looking around the table just to make sure. Steph and Babs are not here today, but that's definitely not what Talia could have meant. Bruce also looks just a little confused, which is a nice change of pace since he looked guarded and on edge from the very moment Talia showed up.

The woman hums, her eyes studying Damian. The youngest bat keeps his gaze down on his empty plate. No one really understands what's going on, but they all feel like there's something important and heavy hanging in the air.

Then, Talia stands up and turns to Alfred, "We will be dining later. It has come to my attention that kids are a lot more secretive than I thought," she explains cryptically and smiles at Bruce, "Beloved, will you come with me to the training grounds? I have something to show you."

Bruce doesn't move for a long moment, and Talia's smile becomes almost gentle, "It's about your son."

At least that makes the man move.

When they get down to the Cave - since Talia insisted this was not a matter that could be resolved in the manor's training room - it's not only her, Bruce, and the little bat there, of course. The whole family was way too intrigued, and some were even alarmed.

The most alarming part, though, was the fact that Damian had been uncharacteristically quiet on their way down. Yet, when Dick looked to Cass, she just shook her head slightly. The boy was not worried. To Cass, he looked almost resigned, if a bit displeased.

"Your sword, Damian," Talia commands, and the boy presses his lips into a thin line.

"This is not necessary, Mother."

"It is," the woman looks amused, but there's an underlying layer of concern to her tone.

"...Yes, Mother," Damian nods his head on what feels like surrender and takes his katana. Not the training one, the real blade. Bruce makes a soft, alarmed grunt, but Talia waves him off.

"Not to worry, Beloved. I will not harm our brethren."

She doesn't take a stance, nor does she pick out a weapon, simply lunges for Damian as soon as they are both on the mats. Two daggers seem to appear in her hands out of nothing, and, contrary to her words, her aim is towards Damian's neck. The boy blocks, jumps away, and blocks another attack.

Tim steps closer, "You can't just-"

"Step away, Drake," It's the first time Damian has spoken to them since they've sat down for dinner. His voice is tense, but not derisive. If anything, it sounds a bit tired.

Talia lunges for him again, faster, meaner. Metal clings against metal.

"You understand this can not keep going, my child," she tells the boy, startlingly gentle on the contrary to her definitely dangerous strikes.

Damian doesn't answer.

The rest of Batfam are forced to simply watch the encounter: Damian is mostly on defense as Talia goes for him, harder and harder with every hit. Until, without any warning, the woman strikes for Damian's arm, making him drop his katana, and-

A few things happen at once.

Talia lunges for Damian's throat. Bruce jumps onto the mats so fast that he almost trips. Tim yelps.

But Talia's blade doesn't strike.

A figure of another child, eerily similar to Damian and wearing the League of Assassins uniform, is standing in front of the littlest bat, two crystal clear blades in his hands, blocking the dagger.

Bruce halts midstep. The rest of the family holds their breath.

But Talia simply smiles and drops her daggers, backing away and looking at the boy between her and Damian with a fond gaze.

"Danyal," she greets, and the boy huffs, lowering his weapons. He doesn't drop them - they simply dissipate in the air, turning into tiny snowflakes.

"Mother," he greets back begrudgingly, and his voice is the exact replica of Damian's. A clone? No, because Damian reacts to him nothing like he had to the clones, simply clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes.

"You could have simply asked, Mother," he comments, taking a step forward and stading near the other boy. Danyal. When standing side by side, they look nearly identical - same facial features, same posture, same hair, even if Damian's is a little more tame.

But Danyal's eyes are just a few hues off. Still green but lighter than Damian's.

"I assumed if you have spent years living here and never bothered to mention your brother, I would need a little more than asking, my love," Talia doesn't laugh, but it sounds like she wants to. Both boys roll their eyes, perfectly in sync.

Hold the fuck up, brother?

"Huh. I thought you died," Jason mentions offhandedly, and the whole family whips their heads to him. Yet, before any of them speak, it's Danyal who answers.

"I mean, I did? Kinda?" He waves his hand in the air and shrugs, and he acts so unlike Damian while also simultaneously having his face, that it makes Tim shiver a little.

"You-" Bruce starts, seeming to finally find his voice, but the boy cuts him off.

"I'm not actually yours," he snorts at Bruce's facial expression, "Yeah, I know I look like I am. Blame the ghost sewers, Chronos, and my stupid ass for making decisions while not being fully awake."

There is so much to unpack in that sentence that no one has the barest of ideas on where to start.

Damian curves his lips down in a sneer.

"The longer you stay there staring, the colder the dinner will be when we return," he reminds them, and Danyal suddenly perks up.

"Dinner? Can I join? It's been ages since I've had anything home cooked," he smiles, like there's some kind of an inside joke in that sentence. Damian rolls his eyes.

"The food doesn't come alive in this household, Danyal."

"Bummer," the boy looks a bit disappointed, but not too much. "And it's Danny, for the thousandth time."

Talia picks up her daggers, hiding them somewhere in her clothes in an unnoticeable motion. Then, she gives Bruce a small, if a bit sly, smile.

"You can not call it 'family dinner' if not all your family is there."

[fluffylino]

serpent hybrid hyunjin 🌱🐍🌱

hyunjin never acted like this. you had never seen him behave so much like a serpent. was he experiencing an unusual kind of heat? did snakes do that...well u just gotta find out

i love this concept so much ill scream-

reblogging > liking

-contains mature themes (two dicks and a split tongue ahhh)

snake hybrids weren't exactly judged well in society. stereotypical beliefs calling them mean slithery liars who manipulate people.

they were just misjudged. misunderstood hybrids who needed affection too. maybe the energy exhuded made them look tough and deadly but deep down they were sweeter than even bunny hybrids.

thats why your boyfriend, hyunjin is always by your side.

theres nothing quite different about snake hybrids. except for the patches of scales on different parts of their body.

however some had no scales, instead just forked tongues. hyunjin was no exception. patient and mind numbingly soft at all times. snuggling into you every now and then.

thats why when you step into the house,you aren't expecting the strong whiff of a certain peculiar smell. its musky and fills the whole apartment.

you don't even know what you're smelling until you're embraced by him. his body warm, reeking of musk. intoxicating your senses.

"hyun-" you let out hurriedly, dropping your bag on the ground in shock. his face buried in your neck. hands running all over your body.

practically pushing you against the door, slipping his left hand between your legs while his right hand grabbed your backside. gasping at the way you seem to float off the ground. he's picking you up quicker than you can even process.

"what's going on? baby?" you say, trying to wriggle out of his firm hold. he's stronger than before and he continues holding you off the ground.

hyunjin hisses.

he fucking hisses.

and your eyes widen. thats only the second time he's ever hissed at you. once during an argument and right now. did that mean he was angry?

"heat." is all he says, huffing as he slams the bedroom door open. throwing you on the bed. not caring at the funny way, you bounced on the soft mattress.

"what do you mean? I thought snakes..don't get heats..."

you questioned. watching as he paced around the room, trying to control himself.

taking off his hoodie. arms out on display. shining with a thin layer of sweat. his hair soaked.

"fuck i don't know...i was washing our clothes and i got the smell of your shirt..."

he mumbles, and your eyes go down to where theres a prominent bulge in his pants. a wet patch staining the material.

"and its like my senses went wild. all I was thinking of was you. fucking you over and over again..." hyunjin slurs, his forked tongue peeking out.

"jinnie...your tongue"

you whisper. intrigued at how his tongue slipped past his lips every few seconds. he had never done that before.

"i can't control it-" he covers his mouth, gazing at you with needy eyes.

were his eyes always so sharp, you wondered.

"its okay baby, breathe" you reassure, opening your arms for him to come to you. and he does. resting his head on your shoulder, his weight pressing you down into the bed.

leaning into kiss him innocently when all of a sudden, his hands are on either side of your face, pulling you in for a needy kiss.

brain shutting off at the feeling of his forked tongue licking into your mouth. forcing you to be submissive because you knew you wouldn't win this battle.

.

🌱

.

"j-jinnie" squirming under him.

his hands pinning your lower half down. head buried between your legs. your toes curling everytime he maneuvered his tongue to simultaneously flick at your sensitive clit and slip between your swollen lips.

"shhh"

u don't know if he's shushing you or hissing at you.

because the next thing you feel is his fork like tongue pushing all over your folds. fingers digging into your hips with strength that had your cunt throbbing.

whining at the loss as he lifts his head up. teasingly using the tips of his wet muscle to prod at your bundle of nerves. face contorting in pleasure at your taste. breath heavy on your warmth.

"breed." he blurts out, surprising himself. your mouth opening in shock when his nails dig into your waist.

his nails had grown longer, into claws and the once hardly noticeable scales on his forearms became visible. gradient shade of black and grey.

"hyun! h-hyunjin, baby b-bab-"

writhing higher into the mattress as he pushed your legs further apart.

nestling his split tongue over your swollen pussy. teasingly managing to place your clit in the Y of his wet muscle.

had his tongue grown longer because you could feel him so deep...

.

.

"h-hyun?" you whisper, gripping his arm to relax your body for him. scales textured and rough under your calloused palm.

"m'right here, baby" hyunjin cooes. placing a hand flat on your lower stomach. eyes fixed on where he was prepping you.

with both his dicks. rubbing the tip over your folds while the other pressed into your entrance. leaking more and more slick that mixed with your own arousal.

"almost in, my love" nudging the first one in with extreme care. your fingers grasping at him. his jaw hanging open as he pushed in, groaning when he slid halfway in.

spreading your thighs so he could start to push his second dick in. the sensation and stretch making you cry in a mix of pain and pleasure.

snake hybrids had two features that only a person who they were close to, would find out about. a forked long tongue means their dicks are the same as well.

hyunjin was not particularly big. actually he was slightly above average considering snake hybrids had longer lengths and lesser girths.

hyunjin had thicker girths and the length of both his dicks were just perfect. neither too big nor too small.

but right now, he felt bigger.

he felt longer. he felt hot.

thats why when he pushes both of them past your entrance, you let out a muffled scream. eyes rolling back at the fullness. quite literally stuffed like this, for the first time.

"f-fuck gonna take me all in"

lowering himself to look down at you. his arms on either side of your head. placing his larger hands on your face. lips brushing against your open mouth.

"thats my precious girl~" and your pussy spasms around him.

getting him soaked because the way the word 'precious' rolled off his tongue, could make you cum on the spot. rolling his s's and a few other alphabets in a serpent like way. something he'd usually never do.

a firm thrust that has your hands flying up to hold onto him. clawing at his back while he buried himself deeper into your cunt. stretching you out with every rough movement.

the scales on his back were larger and travelled down his spine. groaning as you scratched down his back, hard enough to leave red imprints.

"gonna take my cum like a good mate, yes~" hyunjin hisses, watching you so closely. letting his tongue run over your front teeth, all the way down to your bottom lip.

you nod at his statement. wrapping your legs around his waist. pulling him closer. not caring if his patterns of uneven scales scratched you here and there.

plush lips kissing you with such intensity. his nose pressing into your cheek. pushing you deeper into the pillow. trailing a hand down to where your chest touched his. grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing hard enough to make you arch your back.

taking the opportunity to thrust in deeper. your bottom half nearly lifted off the bed with his strength.

pads of his fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nubs. hooking your leg higher so he could change the angle. filling you up with warmth. it makes your eyes struggle to stay open.

this was nowhere near over...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

hiss hiss need more snake hyunjin ideas FUVKKKKK

part two

[luna-azzurra]

Emotionally reserved characters

Instead of openly sharing their emotions with others, they keep their feelings locked inside, letting their inner thoughts do all the talking. You get a glimpse into their mind, where a storm of conflicts, doubts, and desires brews quietly beneath a calm exterior. This internal monologue allows readers to understand what’s going on inside their head, even if they don’t show it on the outside. It’s like seeing the world through their eyes, where every little thing stirs up a wave of emotions that they never express out loud.

For these characters, actions speak louder than words, but even their actions are restrained. They communicate their emotions through the smallest of gestures—a slight tightening of the jaw when they’re angry or hurt, a brief flicker in their eyes when they’re surprised, or a controlled change in posture when something makes them uncomfortable. These tiny, almost imperceptible movements can say so much more than an outburst ever could, hinting at feelings they would never openly share. It’s about what they don’t do as much as what they do.

When they do speak, every word is carefully chosen. Emotionally reserved characters don’t ramble or spill their feelings in a flood of words. Instead, they speak in a measured and controlled manner, always keeping their emotions in check. Their sentences are concise, sometimes even vague or indirect, leaving others guessing about what they’re really thinking. It’s not that they don’t feel deeply, they just prefer to keep those feelings close to the chest, hidden behind a mask of calm and composure.

For these characters, what they do is often more telling than what they say. They might not say “I care about you” outright, but you’ll see it in the way they go out of their way to help, the quiet ways they show up for the people they love. Their actions reveal their emotions—whether it’s a protective gesture, a silent sacrifice, or a kind deed done without expectation of recognition. It’s these unspoken acts of kindness that show their true feelings, even if they never say them out loud.

They often have strong personal boundaries. They keep their private lives just that - private. They don’t open up easily and are cautious about who they let into their inner circle. They might deflect conversations away from themselves or avoid sharing personal details altogether. It’s not that they don’t want to connect, it’s just that they find it hard to lower their walls and let others in, fearing vulnerability or judgment.

When they do show vulnerability, it’s in small, controlled doses. These characters may have moments where they let their guard down, but only in private or with someone they deeply trust.

Sometimes, emotionally reserved characters express their feelings through objects that hold special significance to them. Maybe it’s a worn-out book they keep close, a piece of jewelry they never take off, or an old letter tucked away in a drawer. These symbolic objects are like anchors, holding memories and emotions they can’t express in words. They serve as tangible reminders of their inner world, representing feelings they keep buried deep inside.

When these characters communicate, there’s often more to their words than meets the eye. They speak in subtext, using irony, implication, or ambiguity to convey what they really mean without saying it outright. Their conversations are filled with hidden meanings and unspoken truths, creating layers of depth in their interactions with others. You have to read between the lines to understand what they’re really saying because what they leave unsaid is just as important as what they do say.

Despite their calm demeanor, there are certain things that can break through their emotional reserve. Specific triggers - like a painful memory, a deep-seated fear, or a personal loss - can elicit a strong emotional response, revealing the depth of their feelings. These moments of intensity are rare but powerful, showing that even the most reserved characters have a breaking point.

Over time, emotionally reserved characters can evolve, gradually revealing more about themselves as they grow and change. Maybe they start to trust more, opening up to those around them, or perhaps they experience something that challenges their emotional barriers, forcing them to confront their feelings head-on.

[yourstrulynobody]

FAKE SAMS AND EAPS THUMBNAILS (based off yesterday's art) :D!!!

[EAPS] "ECLIPSE IS MISSING!"

[SAMS] "ECLIPSE GOES HOME... in VRChat"

(the storyline under cut, ft bad writing <3)

(THEY MAY BE OUT OF CHARACTER AS I AM HORRIBLE AT INTERPRETING PERSONALITIES, SO I DO APOLOGIZE! DO CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG. :D.)

Eclipse doesn't remember how he did it—to convince Solar Flare to help him find where their Sun and Moon now stay, but he managed to.

By the gods, they managed to in half a week.

The audible sigh of relief that came from Eclipse finding out Solar Flare wasnt doing as he dread, but doing as he requested was the most hes been at peace. Maybe Eclipse shouldve known when his companion gave him that knowing look when he spoke of his plan. Maybe.

This favor was huge yet Solar Flare didnt ask for anything in return, only that Eclipse find refuge and a home in this new dimension. That embrace Solar Flare initiated before allowing Eclipse to enter the portal was something Eclipse hadnt known he'd needed, but it was worth returning in a tighter hold.

It was hard to step in after, but Solar Flare's nod was enough to tell Eclipse that he was doing the right thing. His kids were gonna be informed, and they'd start anew like Eclipse had planned when he entered the other dimension before, far from the danger and problems.

His eyes landed on the exterior of a house, illuminated by the blue tone of the portal until it closed, leaving the house enveloped in shadows once more. Absentmindedly, his body surges forward and his hand raises to knock on the door twice, catching the attention of the people in the lit kitchen.

The door swings open, and a familiar voice speaks out—a voice Eclipse never knew he missed.

"Hello—? Gah!" Sun squeaks out, taking a step back as his faint glow reveals Eclipse's figure outside. Stammering, his gaze bounce between Eclipse and Moon, his brother staring in confusion. "M-m-moon, do—do we have, uh, a-a Eclipse in this universe?"

Moon perks up from his slouched spot against the counter, his guard raised. "I dont think we do..." He turns on his night vision just as Eclipse rudely welcomes himself in and... collapses into Sun's arms.

"Eclipse?!.." Moon rushes over to them, his hands no longer holding the cereal box as he raised them in worry, wanting to cup Eclipse's face but not knowing if he was allowed to.

Sun, though, was braver; his arm wraps around the taller animatronic, allowing Eclipse to use his shoulder as a pillow. "Eclipse!.." Sun whispers, more worried than Eclipse has ever heard Sun towards him.

They spoke his name ever so softly, like it were the first time theyve seen him.

It possibly was with his appearance—his slumped figure with worse eyebags and tear stains than both of them with the addition of his odd choice of sleepwear of a jacket layered on a turtleneck and baggy pants to hide his barefeet.

While Moon has met Eclipse a few days ago, he was certain Eclipse didnt look like he walked into hell before being dragged suddenly and knocked against rocks in his fallen state.

Just the way they spoke and fussed over him told Eclipse enough: he was safe. By the Astrals and stars in the sky, Eclipse was safe.

Safer than Puppet's greetings to him.

Safer than getting released from the mindscape.

Safer than getting his back patched up.

Safer than Charlie reuniting with her father.

Safer than Ruin giving him options on how to take a break.

Safer.

This dimension was safer.

Sure, the virus is at work and possibly infected plenty of devices already, but he was with someone—Moon who could actually help him in creating a cure, maybe even Solar and Monty could assist as they are both just as smart in that subject.

This was safe.

The safe haven Eclipse hasnt been given; the place where he could finally heal from his trauma.

The way he was held and spoke to so gently was like melody, the lullaby that lulled him into allowing his tears to finally escape as hes lowered to the ground, his head now on Moon's shoulder while Sun continued to hold him.

He was safe.

If not safe with his friends, than safe with his enemies.

Eclipse is safe.

[wol-fica]

sabrina gives strip show to reader and reader cant help but bend her over the kitchen counter?

something like that

— love your writing! <3

-Strip That Down-

summary - seeing your girlfriend in that dress…well it never gets old

warnings - dirty sex, stomach bulge, slight size kink, oral, riding, stripping

an - finally finished this damn thing, and i am hoping the wait was worth it! (not exactly what the request asked btw)

——————————

If someone were to ask you,

“What’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”

Well, the answer would find itself in your mind instantly.

You used to say it was the sunset, its golden glow cast as a blanket over the world while you admired from your balcony, that was a sight to see.

But, due to incredible circumstances, it’s different.

It was a moment in time when you attended your first award show afterparty; you remembered like it was yesterday, which it was. The night was exhilarating, so many famous faces in the crowd that smiled and were so welcoming to you and being that you were a new composer that just happened to catch a little bit of attention, the kindness was incredibly comforting.

Now naturally, as the night progressed and alcohol was consumed, your eyes began to wander. You searched, yearning to find your girlfriend, maybe even trying to slip out with her when the time was right. You had arrived separately, as to avoid suspicion and not to feed into the rumors that had started to circle about you two, yet you still missed seeing her and being in her presence.

Your eyes darted across the sea of people, analyzing and craving for the one that you wanted so badly. As you searched, you paused on a certain figure, and the way your heart fluttered immediately was something else as you laid your eyes on her.

She was gorgeous under the party lights, her skin seeming to glow with sparkles of glitter as she danced to the exotic beat of the music. Her hips swayed back and forth, hands raised up with her eyes shut while she moved, fluffy blonde hair fallen around her shoulders in thick layers of curls. Her makeup was done wonderfully, complimenting the color of her dress, and…oh the dress...

The dress was breathtaking on the woman; a satin, mahogany brown that hugged her body in all the right ways under the dim lighting, the reddish undertones complimenting the bright blonde of her hair in all the right ways. It was a tighter fit, with just the right amount of fabric that it crinkled up in a fashionable style, thin spaghetti straps looping up over her shoulders to highlight her toned back. The length was not long, settling just above the knee but covering her thighs in an almost teasing manner, as if the dress were worn for someone to come and inquire about her.

“Oh my.” You muttered under your breath, watching in awe her.

“Someone caught your eye?”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see one of your co-stars standing there with a grin.

“Jesus Adam.” You grumbled, taking a sip of your champagne, “Don’t scare me like that.”

He laughed lightly, shaking his head at your annoyed reaction. Adam is one of the few people that knew you and thought you were incredible, and to prove that to others, he made sure you had a secure spot at this after party. You respected him and admired him as a person for that.

“Didn’t mean to, kid.” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Just saw you ogling from afar and I had to come see what was goin’ on!”

You turned your head back to the woman, a soft sigh exiting your throat, “I wasn’t ogling, just admiring.”

“Sabrina Carpenter is a sight to see. I’m surprised she hasn’t been under some guys arm yet.”

You laughed airily, shaking your head at his comment, “I know.”

“I heard she came alone, if ya’know what I mean.” Adam winked at you, taking your champagne and downing it in one gulp before disappearing into the crowd.

You blinked a few times, your eyes still locked on her dancing figure in the crowd. She threw her head back in a dramatic manner, her hair swinging behind her as she coincidentally turned and caught your gaze, her movements pausing momentarily.

Time slowed around you, heat rising in your throat as you had a staring contest with your beautiful girl. She cocked her head to the side in curiosity, a playful smile curving onto her lips before she crooked her finger at you in a “come here” gesture.

You stumbled slightly, looking around before pointing to your chest as if to say “me?”

She nodded, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth as her hips swayed in a sultry manner. You slowly approached, pulling at your collar to try to cool your heated skin off. Normally, as her preference, Sabrina preferred to act as friends in public to keep your relationship private, especially during after parties and awards as cameras were always on.

Tonight must be different, for some reason.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” You stuttered once you reached her, a silly grin on your face, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re fine, gorgeous.” Sabrina purred, sliding up closer to you, “I enjoy when a hot girl eyes me up.”

You licked your lips thoughtfully, fidgeting with one of the rings on your fingers from her words. Her hands raised up to your arms, gently pulling them around her slender waist before looping hers around the back of your neck. The dress crinkled under your fingers, the material smooth and perfectly contrasted against her skin.

“Glad I didn’t scare you off.” You teased back, holding her hips as you both began to dance together, “I was worried you would think I was a creep.”

“How could I?” She replied, swaying against you to the slower beat of the song, “You have a baby face; hard to be scary with that smile.”

You hummed, leaning down till your mouth was by her ear, “Hard to not stare at you either, with this pretty little dress you got on.”

She shuddered in your hands, subconsciously moving closer against your shoulder when someone bumped into her from behind. Big blue eyes caught yours, staring up at you so innocently and gently, stars shining in her orbs from the pulsing light. Your breath got stuck in your throat from the sight, and a soft smile found its way onto your face.

“Would it be too much to ask if you want to get out of here?” You questioned, gently squeezing her hips when she inhaled, “My bed is pretty comfortable, and I just cannot focus with what you are wearing.”

“Hmmm tempting.” She purred, leaning up till she was next to your ear, “What’s in it for me?”

You chuckled, pulling her flush against your body, “Anything you want gorgeous.”

Sabrina let out a breathy sigh from your movements and proceeded to sink her teeth into the lobe of your ear, her hands pressing on your shoulders when you gasped. Soon she let go, licking the area she bit before speaking words that almost made your knees buckle.

“Does that include my head between your thighs?”

You choked on your spit, your hand retracting from her hip to hold your throat as you coughed. She giggled sweetly, her eyes shining behind her as she covered her mouth. Once you calmed down and collected yourself, you straightened up and gave her a look, one that she responded to with a playful pout.

“Poor thing.” She cooed, reaching up to cup your face gently, “Is that a yes, though?”

You hummed, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her back into you. You leaned down to her face, your lips inches away from hers. She breathed heavily, eyes flickering back and forth between your eyes and your mouth, curiosity still present in her gaze. With a gentle push, you parted your lips to take her bottom one between your teeth, biting down softly with a tug when her breath hitched.

“I drove.” You murmured once you pulled away, “The apartment isn’t far.”

“Let me get my bag.” Sabrina whispered back, bumping her nose into yours.

She slid out of your embrace, letting her fingers drag against your arm before disappearing into the crowd. You sighed, letting your eyes fall shut all while you smiled like a love-sick school kid. Your heart was full, especially since she was just so publicly affectionate with you. PDA was something that you had been yearning for, not because you felt like you needed it, but because you wanted to be able to show the world how much you adored that girl. You had expressed that to Sabrina a few times in passing, and clearly, she had listened quite closely as what happened moments ago was a blatant sign.

“Okay, my chivalrous lady.” Sabrina said, linking her arm through yours, “Lead the way.”

You chuckled and pulled her along with you, nodding and waving to the occasional friend you passed. The large glass doors soon came into the view, the exit and entrance into the venue, and as a reflex, you pulled away from her. She was quick to correct you though, taking your arm and wrapping it around her waist with your hand settled at her hip.

“Sab.” Your voice was unsure, “There’s paparazzi outside.”

She looked up at you, her bright blue eyes full of love and playfulness, “I know.”

“Baby.” You stopped in your tracks, holding her so she would face you, “Are you sure?”

She glanced around for a moment, checking to make sure that no one was intently watching. Once she was sure, she pulled you into a deep kiss, exhaling her minty breath into your mouth when you grunted from her upfront-ness. She held your tie, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away, a smile present on her face.

“I’ve been waiting to show you off for so long.” Sabrina said lowly, caressing your cheek, “Let me.”

You nodded slowly, folding under her dominant gaze. She smiled wider, tapping your nose before replacing your hand at her hip and continuing onward. You pushed the heavy door once you reached it, Sabrina tucking herself into your side in preparation for the bright flashes that were about to hit. Camera clicks immediately went off as soon as you stepped outside, people shouting her name left and right, yours occasionally throw into the mix. Security was huddled around you both, arms outstretched to keep the mass away from you as you headed towards your car.

“Sabrina! Sabrina, are you dating Y/N?!”

“Sabrina over here!”

“Y/N look this way!”

“Are you a couple?!”

You grinned to yourself, trying unsuccessfully to hide your laugh when Sabrina started giggling uncontrollably next to you. You squeezed her playfully, careful of your touch on her dress with all of the eyes that were on you. The car soon came into view, the lights flashing when you clicked the unlock button on your key fob. You pulled the handle of the passenger side door, moving aside to let Sabrina in. She hummed, leaning up to press a very flaunting kiss to your cheek as she passed.

The uproar from the crowd was deafening, the camera clicks and flashes seeming to increase impossibly more. You felt a warmth creep up your neck, your face heating into a bright red from her action. A sheepish grin found its way onto your lips, and you swiftly rounded the car to get into the driver’s side before the paparazzi could get any more embarrassing photos of you. Sabrina was giggling behind her hand when you settled into your seat, the corners of her eyes crinkled as she gazed at you with playfulness. You pursed your lips at her, hiding your face in your hands with a groan.

“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself.” She said, reaching across the center console to rub your shoulder, “You’re just so irresistible.”

Her hand slid down your arm to rest on your thigh, pressing her fingers into the fabric of your pants. You inhaled sharply, retracting your face from your hands to hold the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white from your death grip. Sabrina gently sunk her nails into your skin, leaning over to press her lips to the shell of your ear.

“We should get going.” She purred, licking the skin behind your ear, “I don’t want to be kept waiting.”

You shuddered from her touch, nodding rapidly before you started the car and put it in drive. Your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, and you were soon cruising down the road towards your shared apartment. The ride was silent for the most part, the occasional hum of lyrics to whatever song playing on the radio passing through Sabrina’s lips at random times, but other than that, silence.

It was peaceful in a way, how you could find yourself calm and comfortable around her without having to force a conversation or bring up a random topic to restrict awkwardness. You both could just, be; no need for chatter all the time to keep the train of your relationship chugging along the tracks.

“Baby.” Sabrina called out to you, rubbing her thumb against the back of your hand, “You okay?”

You blinked, suddenly realizing that you had arrived home and was sitting in the driveway to your apartment complex. An awkward chuckle left your mouth before you put the car in park, quickly hopping out of and hurrying around to the passenger side to open the door. Sabrina stepped out with a giggle, reaching up and brushing her hand against your cheek as she nestled into your arms.

“Zoned out, sorry.” You grinned sheepishly, pressing your lips to her temple.

She poked your stomach lightly, smiling up at you with fondness, “Don’t apologize baby, you’re fine.”

She slid her hand into yours, pulling it up to press her lips to your knuckles to soothe your nerves, before tugging you behind her as she entered the building. You both passed by the door man, smiling to him as an acknowledgment when he nodded at you. Sabrina pulled you towards the elevator, pressing the button with one of her manicured nails to call the mechanical platform. She rocked on her heels, subconsciously brushing her thumb against the palm of your hand from time to time.

“Long ass elevator.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes with a smile when your girlfriend laughed.

Soon the doors opened, and you both were on your way up to your shared apartment. The ride was mostly silent, excusing the messy sounds of kissing while you pinned Sabrina against the wall from when she yanked you by your tie as soon as the large silver doors slid shut. Eventually, after narrowly avoiding getting caught with your teeth sunk into her neck, you arrived at your apartment giggling like two drunk college kids on a Friday night.

You fumbled with the key for a moment, bumping your hip into hers in a playful manner before hurriedly opening the door to get inside. Once it swung shut behind you, Sabrina was pouncing on you like a wild animal, her hands anywhere and everywhere on your body as she pushed you up against the wooden surface.

“Jesus babe.” You said, words muffled by her lips on yours, “Can’t wait huh?”

She groaned, pulling back and giving you a look you knew all too well. Her nails scratched the back of your neck, a taste of pondering filling her eyes before her lips quirked up mischievously.

“Are you thirsty?” She asked, backing up from you, “I can make us drinks.”

You paused, watching as she moved towards the kitchen, “Uh…”

“I know you love my manhattans.”

“I won’t oppose one, if that’s what you're asking.” You said, unsure of why she so bluntly retracted from you.

She hummed, popping one of the bottles of alcohol open and pouring the liquor into the glasses she had chosen, filling them up halfway before adding the syrup she wanted. You watched in slight apprehension, choosing to take your coat off and place it on the chair so you wouldn’t be awkward in standing.

“Take a seat baby, this won’t be long.” Sabrina said to you, adding a few cubes of ice to the cups.

“I’d much rather continue to kiss you.” You murmured, starting to round the kitchen island to reach for her, but she was quick to react.

She turned to meet your eyes, her sharp blue orbs burrowing so far into yours that you stumbled to a stop from the sternness welling up in her iris’. Her nails rapped against the smooth granite of the counter, almost a rhythmic heartbeat that matched the one pounding in your ears.

“Sit down.” She spoke sternly, unmoving as she watched you.

You gulped, nervously nodding your head as you walked backwards to slide into one of the stools set at the island. She smiled warmly at your obedience, blowing a small kiss in your direction before turning back to the drinks, taking a moment to kick off her heels. One of the straps of her dress was dangerously close to falling off her left shoulder, giving you a suggestive view of the soft skin of her back under the dull glow of the kitchen lights. She stirred both drinks a few times until she was satisfied, setting the spoon down and moving towards you with the completed Manhattans.

“Milady.” She said playfully, scrunching her nose at you when you rolled your eyes.

You took the glass, eyeing the red liquid as you swirled it around, before lifting it to your mouth to take a sip. The sting of the alcohol hit your tongue, followed by a sweet herbal taste that soothed the natural attack of the whiskey. You hummed, your eyes falling shut in satisfaction; Sabrina’s drinks were always perfect, rumored to be drugged with crack but you wouldn’t care that much if it was true.

“Delicious baby.” You sighed, taking another sip, “You outdid yourself.”

You opened your eyes, expecting to see her blushing madly and giddy with a smile like she normally did when you praised her, but you were not expecting her to be so surprisingly close. She took your chin in her hand, tutting softly at you while slowly pulling the loose dress strap off her left shoulder, followed by the other on her right. The dress fell slightly, catching on the curve of her breasts, your eyes following its movements with anticipation.

“I enjoyed how you were watching me tonight,” She began, shrugging her shoulders so the fabric slid down further, “You looked so hungry, so possessive.”

She nudged you chin up again, running her thumb across your lips, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“I…uh…” You stuttered pitifully as she hooked her thumb into the top hem of her dress, pulling it down to reveal her cleavage to you, “I was…I was um…”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Sabrina cooed, her hand sliding around to the back of your neck, “Cat got your tongue?”

You let out a shaky sigh of longing, leaning the weight of your head against her forearm. She scratched the lower part of your scalp, leaning in to press her lips to your forehead before she brought your face into her chest. You let out a muffled noise of surprise, your hands instinctively placing onto her hips to steady yourself.

The fabric of her dress finally fell, shimmering as it dropped down her waist and past her hips to pool at her feet. You grunted, pulling your head back from the warmth of her breasts to peel your eyes open, your pupils expanding at the sight of her naked.

Her skin was smooth, seeming to glow under the dull light of the kitchen as you scanned over her in awe. Your eyes ran down her body, admiring the faint freckles and imperfections that were dusted across the expanse of her soft skin. Her breasts sat before you, round and so attractively perfect that your heart thumped a little faster at the sight. You ran your thumb across a slightly more noticeable scar that rested on her hip bone, just above the coverage of her panties. Her breath hitched at the action, and you paused to bring your eyes back up to hers.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, as if she was anticipating some form of negative reaction from you, and her eyes were tainted with a look of insecurity that rose like oceanic waves in the blue of her uvea’s. You furrowed your eyebrows ever so slightly, choosing to grip her waist a little tighter to pull her into your embrace, your lips pressing up against the underside of her chin where her jaw met her neck.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmured to her, stroking her waist with your thumbs to soothe her, “So incredibly beautiful.”

Sabrina hummed in acknowledgement, leaning into you to rest your chin atop your head as you left little kisses on her neck. She shuddered in your hands, a soft moan leaving her parted lips when you began to suck on her pulse point. It had been a while since the two of you had been intimate due to how busy and separated your schedules have been, and being that she is currently on a worldwide tour and you were co-composing an entire score for the sequel to Beetlejuice, having time together was a rarity.

That being said: You missed her, a lot. You had been subconsciously craving her so desperately while she was away that you didn’t even realize how bad your withdrawal had gotten. Having her was like satiating an unknown appetite that sprouted inside of your stomach, and oh how satisfying it was to be feasting again.

“Baby…” Sabrina sighed, arching into you when you began to kiss down her chest, “Shit...that feels good...”

You nodded in amusement, kissing the underside of her left breast before sealing your lips around her nipple to form a soft suction. Your hands grasped at her waist and squeezed, your fingertips following the curve of her spine down to the arc of her hips where the dimples on her back resided. She sighed from above, her nails ever so softly scratching at your scalp with the occasional tug if your teeth sunk in a little too hard. You licked at the soft flesh, relishing in how she responded to your touch and ever so slightly leaned herself into you. She was exceedingly warm, maybe a sign of her excitement or sensitivity, yet her temperature was so intoxicating; an addictive drug that clouded your brain from just the feeling of her.

“So soft.” You murmured after detaching your mouth from her, reaching up to brush your thumb across her bruised breast, “Remind me to never let your stash of Epson salt run out.”

Sabrina giggled sweetly, nodding happily while she caressed your face, tracing your features with the pads of her fingers. You nuzzled into her hand, pressing your lips to her palm as a gesture of love. Your arms went around her waist to scoop her up, your hands sliding down to her thighs to pull them around your waist as you headed for your bedroom. She left little nips and love bites on your skin as you walked, doing her part to claim you in some way before the night ended. That was a particularly beautiful thing about Sabrina, how she was always so keen to have some marking on you during your escapades.

You nuzzled her cheek with your nose, kicking the door shut with your foot once you entered the room. She pulled back from you slightly, giving you a quick glimpse of the desire pooling in her pupils, before crashing her lips into you. You let out a muffled grunt, surprised from her desperation, and stumbled slightly against the bed. You both were soon entangled on the mattress, hands and lips everywhere on each others bodies.

“You have too many clothes on.” She mumbled against your neck, tugging against your shirt, “Off.”

“Yes ma’am.” You breathed out, quickly unbuttoning your collar and pulling the shirt up and over your head before returning to her lips.

She reached around your back, slipping her fingers under the elastic of your sports bra and pulling it over your shoulders and head. Her hands immediately went for your breasts, squeezing softly when you let out a gasp. She took that as a moment to switch, quickly pushing you onto your back and straddling your waist, a devious smile on her face as she leaned down to your chest.

“Mmph…baby.” You groaned, threading your fingers into her hair as she latched onto your breast, “Fucking sneak.”

She hummed, a moan slipping through your lips from the vibrations, and proceeded to lick at your nipple vigorously. She fiddled with the clasp on your belt, the sound of metal clicking open letting you know she succeeded, and pushed your slacks along with your boxers off in one go. Your cock sprung free and slapped up against your abdomen, heavy length emitting heat from the arousal that had been building in your stomach. Sabrina paused to stare, licking her parted lips as she breathed heavily, her chest rising up and down from each inhale of air. She reached forward, hesitant yet curious, her fingers brushing your sensitive shaft. Your hips twitched at the contact, and you blushed, watching as she adjusted herself so she was laid between your legs. Her nose pressed against your base; her eyes fluttering shut as she inhaled your pheromones.

“It’s so fucking hot how you always smell so good.” She said lowly, sticking her tongue out to lick a strip all the way up to your tip.

You suppressed a moan, fisting the sheets, “That’s cause I actually take care of myself; most people don’t wash down there.”

She hummed out a laugh, playfully glancing at you for a moment before leaning in and taking your tip between her lips. She sucked for a few moments, gently licking at your slit while softly stroking your shaft as a stimulant. Finally, you caved to your voice, letting your jaw fall open in a groan of her name when she took a few inches deeper into her mouth. She peered up at you innocently from the noise, bright blue eyes looking through her eyelashes while she bobbed her head up and down. You tried to give her an appreciative smile, but you were unsuccessful when her fingers teasingly gave your balls a squeeze.

Her touch was precise, controlled and certain with each stroke and press she gave you. The warmth of her mouth was doing wonders for your pent-up arousal, yet you were yearning to have more of her and to do more with her. Gently, as yanking her wouldn’t be a smart idea in any way, you nudged her chin up until she was backing off of you in confusion.

“As much as I enjoy your mouth being full,” You started, pulling her up to your chest before rolling over, “I’d much rather hear you moan my name, hm?”

Sabrina blushed a bright crimson, her lips parting in partial shock from your words. Dirty talk wasn’t one of your traits, not that you were bad at it in any way, you just didn’t talk to her like that often. She was definitely the naughty and nasty one, whereas you were the more gentle and praising one when it came to your relationship.

Your hands trailed carefully down her sides, tracing the curve of her hips before booking into her panties and pulling them down her legs. She was wet, extremely wet, soaking in her own arousal just from your touch.

“All of this for me, angel?” You cooed, running your thumb across her hooded clit, “So pretty.”

She sighed softly, her hips subconsciously bucking up as you roamed her body. You tucked your head between her thighs, relishing in the warmth that they provided, before diving into her heat with a bold lick up her slit.

Her breath hitched, hands fisting the sheets below her as you teased her with kitten licks. You were playful with her, barely scraping the surface of pleasing her while you lapped at her wetness.

A whine of annoyance came from above, gaining your attention as you smirked. She was glaring at you, her chest rising and falling heavily with a cute pout on her lips.

“Patience.” You said, running your tongue across your lips before sealing around her aching bud.

Sabrina moaned, an actual full exhale of pleasure erupting out of her throat from the contact. Her back arched up off the bed, her chest rising up towards the ceiling while you pinned her hips down. Your tongue slowly worked on her, kneading and flicking at the sensitive nub.

One of your hands left her hips, slowly sliding past the inside of her thigh to part her lower lips. You could feel how wet she was, how soaked and warm she had gotten from the constant heat of your touch on her skin. It was intoxicating, and it was even more addictive when she whined your name above.

“F-fuck…I need you…” Sabrina whispered, reaching down to grasp your wrist, “…please…”

You chuckled, giving her now swollen clit one last kiss before scooting down to the task at hand. Your eyes met hers, full of excitement and arousal as you pressed your tongue flat against her entrance. She tasted divine, a sweetness you could not describe or ever recreate, and was oh so warm to the touch.

“You taste amazing, baby.” You praised, voice muffled by her thick thighs as you pressed your face into her heat.

She moaned softly, hips bucking up as you lazily lapped at her hole, muscles clenching around nothing as a stimulant. You wanted to work her up a bit more, nothing crazy to get her to an orgasm, but enough to make it unbearable for her and have her begging for more.

God you loved it when she begged.

“Y/N…” Sabrina groaned, eyebrows scrunched when your nose bumped against her sensitive clit, “Please…”

You hummed, a small gasp erupting from her throat from the vibrations, and proceeded to press your tongue into her entrance. You pushed the muscle back and forth, eagerly slurping up her wetness as she squirmed.

“Fuck! …ah!” She whined, pushing at your head gently.

“Oh, I know you can do better than that.” You teased, pulling back from in between her legs to stare her down, “Use your words, princess.”

She met your gaze, blue eyes full of defiance and desire. Her lips curled into a pout, her nose doing the cute little scrunch that you always loved to see when she was mad. You tilted your head to the side, unmoving, a test. Her shoulders tensed for a moment, before dropping down into a relaxed state, her eyes tearing away from yours to look at the wall instead.

“I wanna ride you…please” Sabrina mumbled, rocking her feet back and forth.

“That’s it.” You grinned, adjusting so you were sat up against the headboard, “C’mere angel.”

She made a huffing noise of fake annoyance, pushing herself up on her elbows before she rolled over and crawled to you, settling herself into your lap. Your cock pulsed rapidly, hard and tall against your skin while you eyed her up and down. Your hands ran across her waist, lazily tracing the outline of her abs.

“Get on baby, I won’t make you wait.”

She blushed deeply, her hands placing on your shoulders to aid her in raising her hips up. You took your shaft in one hand, the other placed on her hip, and aligned it with her dripping entrance. Her slick was dripping down her thighs, covering your tip in a sticky warmth that made your eyes flutter ever so slightly. She pushed her hips back and forth a few times, letting your swollen head brush against her soaked hole every now and then while she moved.

Your impatience grew, heart hammering in your chest from the thought of her body on yours, and before you knew it, you were pushing her down onto your cock. Her pussy stretched around you, a sloshing ‘pop!’ when you sheathed your full length inside of her. A groan slipped from your lips, eyes rolling and toes curling from how damn good she felt around you.

Sabrina responded to you with a choked moan, the noise catching in her throat as she adjusted to your size. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, nails digging into your biceps while she attempted to regain her composure. A noticeable bulge had appeared in her lower abdomen, pushing upward in the shape of your cock, and you couldn’t help but pat yourself on the back for how damn good your size was.

“That’s it babygirl.” You praised when her hips started to roll, hands gently guiding her, “You look so good on top of me.”

She whimpered softly, her head rolling to the side from the pressure in her stomach. Heavy pants exuded from her, hands firmly planted on your upper arms while she rode you with vigor. You responded to each push of her hips with a soft kiss to her neck, encouraging and loving towards her.

Your hands slid up her body, running over her slender waist before settling on her breasts, thumbs gently brushing across her nipples before you began to roll both between your fingers. She moaned from your touch, erotically gasping when you squeezed the soft mounds in response.

“You’re doin’ great mamas.” You praised into her neck, pressing a kiss to her temple when she groaned at a particularly harsh roll of her hips, “I feel how tight you are; you close?”

She mumbled a quiet ‘mhm’ that quickly got replaced with a deep moan from your hands gripping back at her hips, pulling her up and pushing her back down rhythmically. You felt her walls begin to tighten around you, squeezing your cock deliciously as you bounced her up and down your length.

“Oh…fuck! Right there!” Sabrina squealed when you pressed her fully against you, her hips rutting back and forth as you pressed against her sweet spot, “I’m gonna cum baby…oh my god, i’m gonna fucking cum!”

You grunted to her, now completely manhandling her while you thrusted up into her. She threw her head back with a moan of your name, her pussy getting impossibly tight before she promptly collapsed into your arms. You worked her through it, gently rolling her hips to a stop to prolong her orgasm as much as you could, occasionally leaving little kisses on her forehead.

“Atta girl~.” You cooed, threading your fingers into her hair while your other hand ran up and down her back, “Good job baby, you did great.”

Sabrina gave you a weak smile, leaving a few lazy pecks on your neck as a silent thank you. With a gentle nuzzle to her cheek, you carefully pulled her up and off of you, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to shush her whines. Once she was off of your lap, you were quick to scoot down and pull the covers over your sweaty bodies. One of her hands slid down your stomach, but you took her wrist and replaced it at your chest before she could reach her destination.

“But baby…” She protested softly, her words dying off when you pressed your lips against hers.

“I’m fine love, you need to rest.” You mumbled against her lips, wrapping your arms around her waist, “You can pay me back later.”

Her blue eyes flashed uncertainty, her eyebrows upturned in slight concern from your words. You were quick to soothe her, pulling her body into yours and tucking her head under your chin. She eagerly snuggled into your warmth, practically purring in your arms as you cuddled her.

“Promise?” Sabrina asked softly, brushing her knuckles across your abs.

“I promise angel, I'd rather you get your energy back first.” You replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I wouldn’t mind waking up to your mouth in the morning.”

She giggled softly, tilting her head back and pressing a loving kiss to the underside of your jaw, “Anything, you want, gorgeous.”

You smiled, squeezing her waist gently before settling back against the pillows. You felt her adjust until she was comfortable in your arms, her face buried into your chest as she looked towards the choice of sleeping. You hummed softly, tilting your head to the side in thought before speaking.

“By the way,” You started, one hand sliding down to squeeze the fat of her ass.

She leaned back slightly to peer at you, her lips pursed, “Hm?”

“I want you in that dress much more often. In every color too.”

“Yeah?” She replied, a sly smile curving onto her lips.

“Yeah, you are breathtaking in that thing.”

“I’ll make sure to wear less under it too.”

“That’s my good girl.”

——————————

i dunno what to say….bacon? 🥓

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[sugudoe]

☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

[mariasont]

pearls and other happy accidents

spencer spends the afternoon holding shells and enduring your sweet torture

pairing: spencer reid x bimbo!reader warnings: fem!reader, bimbo!reader, spencer being the most patient bf ever, reader making suggestive jokes, suggestive-ish ending prompt: here wc: 0.6k

Spencer cocks his head, eyes tracing your figure as you sift through the shore with earnest determination, sand sticking messily to your manicured fingertips.

You’d agonized endlessly over your swimsuit selection, consulting him repeatedly for opinions he knew you’d disregard anyway, yet the resulting ensemble (completed with color-coordinated anklet, bracelet, and claw clip) undeniably makes the ordeal worthwhile.

And sure, perhaps his lingering attention on your ass is not exactly intellectual, but he decides it’s permissible — purely observational, of course.

“Spencer, babe, look how pretty!” 

Your fingers wiggle expectantly behind you, already certain he’ll handle the precious cargo. 

Spencer dutifully accepts the offering, eyes flicking downward to inspect what appears to be little more than a battered shell fragment.

He nearly chuckles to himself, but tenderness wins out as he murmurs gently, “Yeah, angel, very pretty.”

He balances the newest treasure precariously atop the mound of sand and miscellaneous beach finds already overflowing from his left palm.

“You know, most of these shells are calcium carbonate — the same stuff pearls are made of. Not that we’ll find any pearls today, but,” he smiles, clearly entertained by your fascinated expression, “I suppose your collection is pretty valuable regardless.”

You peer up at him with wide eyes, a thin sheen of sand glittering across your face and tangled in your hair as if you’ve become part of the beach yourself.

“Wait, so, like, does that mean shells are pearls, or pearls are shells?”

Spencer nearly laughs aloud, his heart helplessly melting as he wonders how exactly he ended up falling in love with you all over again on a random beach.

Crouching beside you, he reaches forward and sweeps a gentle hand over your cheek, amused by the way sand sticks stubbornly to it.

“Well, they’re related, but not exactly the same,” he answers. “Pearls form inside the shells, kind of like a happy accident.” He pauses, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, technically, your shells could’ve had pearls.”

He doesn’t mention, of course, that pearls aren’t really happy accidents at all — more like desperate attempts to shield themselves from pain.

When a grain of sand or parasite irritates them, mollusks secrete layer after layer of nacre, tirelessly covering the discomfort.

Spencer knows that sometimes beauty comes from suffering, though he’s certainly not about to burden you with the heavier side of biology — not when you’re smiling at him like the sun itself decided to visit the shore.

“Hmm,” you hum vaguely, fingertips tunneling deeper into the damp sand. “So my shells are almost pearls.”

“Maybe almost.” His brow furrows as he spots your slightly reddened knees — raw from hours in gritty sand. “Angel, your knees look like they’re taking a beating. Maybe it’s time to sit up for a bit?”

Your lips twitch into a flirty grin, eyes sparkling with barely concealed delight. “Is that your way of telling me you wanna be responsible for the state of my knees?”

Spencer nearly chokes on hair, eyes darting anxiously around the beach as if expecting judgmental seagulls or scandalized crabs to overhear. “You — seriously, you can’t just say stuff like that in public.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand, brushing your palms together to dislodge the sand sticking there.

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” you promise. “You ready to head back? I bet we can find something else to do.”

Spencer knows exactly what you’re suggesting — your subtlety has never been your strong suit, but frankly, it’s one of his favorite things about you.

He watches you walk ahead, smiling to himself as he trails behind, hands still full of your beach treasures. Perhaps it’s fitting, he muses, that pearls only exist because of persistent irritation.

After all, you’ve certainly mastered the art of sweet torture. Beauty from suffering, indeed, and Spencer is more than willing to endure a little discomfort, as long as you’re the one responsible.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 3 extras

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maria's spring break getaway masterlist

[captain-huggy-bear]

Baby Shower Surprises

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Quinn organises a baby shower for you with your high schoolers. It might just be the sweetest a bunch of teenagers have ever been.

Notes: Teacher!Reader is back. I've been sat on this request for so long...sorry it's taken me this long to write it :| I hope you enjoy it anyway, I feel soo out of practice with Quinn and Teacher!Reader!

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Quinn supremely underestimates how much red tape there is when he first comes up with the idea. A sweet little plan to get your students involved in a baby shower, a celebration of your pregnancy, turns into a massive fucking headache because of parental permission forms, safety checks and more. He gets why, of course he does, child protection and all that. But, God, does it make his job harder.

It's worth it though. In the end it's so fucking worth it that he'd do it a million times over even knowing all the headaches he'd have from it. Although maybe a more intimate family and friends only baby shower next time...

You don't suspect a thing when he kisses you goodbye that morning in the early hours to go to your job. Your day starts like any other day really. You get to your classroom just after 7am, waddling around your room in the latter stages of your pregnancy now. You change the date on your board, put out resources for your first lesson, wander down the hallway to fight with the photocopier and have enough time to sit and eat your breakfast before the first bell.

You notice a few oddities about your lessons. Your high schoolers more excitable than usual, whispering, gossiping but never loud enough for you to hear. Shifty eyes whenever they're caught talking and an overall buzz in the air and it's not just a buzz from students either, the staff are buzzing too. Fellow teachers gossiping in groups whenever they have a moment, eyes on you. By 5th period you're certain that something is wrong with you, that you've done something to cause a stir and it has you more irritable than anything else.

You're back hurts, your feet are swollen and after a day of people giving you weird looks but not actually talking to you, you simply don't want to teach your last lesson of the day even though you love your 11th graders. But you will because you always do...because being an adult, being a teacher meant putting on a brave face and doing it anyway.

"Surprise!" You're assaulted the moment you step foot into your classroom by streamers, party poppers, balloons and your entire 5th period screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Miss, you can't take the Lord's name in vain!"

"Sorry, sorry..." Your hand is still clutched at your chest when you finally take the scene in, the scene that has a surprising guest at the centre. Quinn.

"Hey, Mrs Hughes." The smile he gives you is so soft and sweet, brown waves falling cross his eyes, teeth peeking out from behind his lips. His scruff of a beard hasn't changed since that morning, but he's dressed himself less casually, a little bit more formal for your surprise. He's stood next to a classroom desk littered with presents, most of them poorly wrapped, covered in layers and layers of tape.

"Hello, Mr Hughes, it looks like you've been busy keeping secrets from me." You purse your lips to stop from laughing at him because God, this is so Quinn. The guy that has always gone out of his way to make you smile. The man who always wanted you to feel cherished, who always went out of his way to include your students like they were family...when they were just a bunch of teenagers that had watched you go from a miss to a mrs, a bunch of teenagers you came home and told stories about every day.

"Not secrets, surprises."

"Mmm..." Your hum is sceptical but your smile says it all, that you're teasing him, that you're happy to see him even if your high schoolers nearly gave you a heart attack. You're happy to see the balloons, the presents, but mostly, you're happy to see him and your students, to have an excuse not to teach your final period of the day.

"C'mere, sit for a minute, baby..."

"Oh, please, Mrs Hughes! We've been planning this for years." It's David, still dressed in his usual Canucks merch, that pulls a seat forward for you, your desk chair, the comfy one with the cushion for your lower back. David had become somewhat of a sidekick for Quinn in this whole adventure, naughty at times, immature at others, but David loved Quinn Hughes. He loved the Canucks and...he'd never admit it but you were his favourite teacher and he wanted to do something nice for you before you took off on maternity leave. There was part of David that was worried you might not come back, that he'd have some old irritating man to teach him History, someone who didn't understand David, who didn't bring him a game puck for his birthday or talk to his mom about how to get him into sports management.

"Okay, okay..." You ease yourself into the chair, hand on your belly. Your baby bump had reached the point of being heavy, cumbersome and also always in the way. But, it was worth it, you reminded yourself of that when she kicked you aggressively in the kidneys.

"Open mine first!" There's a scramble that has you laughing as David and Stacey fight over whose present you get first, Stacey wins by a mere margin. David huffing about it until Quinn gives him a look...and oh, that look makes you realise he's already a dad in so many ways. A dad in spirit.

Seeing Quinn act like a dad already? A reassuring pat to David's shoulder, a little look to calm down? The way David listens to him and follows his direction? It makes your heart swell because Quinn...Quinn at some point has grown to care about your students, your 11th graders who cause so much havoc and mischief, and Quinn is so ready to be a dad to your baby girl that it makes your hormones go a little haywire.

"I hope you like it, all of us girls pooled our money together." Stacey's present is well wrapped, carefully so, like she'd taken her time. The wrapping paper is bright hot pink with cowboy boots and hats across it, not exactly baby shower wrapping paper but very Stacey.

You feel the weight of 25 eyes on you as you open the present, each waiting and watching for your reaction. They watch the way you still at the the unveiled little pair of baby skates, the way you raise them up is gentle, careful like they're the most precious thing in the world. It's the way your bottom lip wobbles, the wetness that touches your eyes, the way you look at each of them like they've just given you the world.

"I love it..." Your gaggle of teens look petrified as you look close to sobbing, the tiny skates still held in your hands because the idea of putting them down feels wrong right now. God, you can already imagine it...Quinn taking your baby out on the ice as soon as they can walk, winters on the outdoor rinks and summers skating inside the arena. Your little girl with big dreams and a love for the same sport as her father or simply a love for skating, for the way she can glide across the ice. Quinn catching her every time she stumbles, helping her up when she falls. Quinn coaching her junior hockey team. Quinn watching his baby grow into a skater in her own right.

"Don't cry, Miss! Here open mine!"

"David!" Your teacher glare has less bite with the wetness in your eyes, the unshed tears, but you still turn it on him as he shoves Stacey out of the way. It's enough for him to mumble an apology to her before handing you a messily wrapped box covered in so much tape it's more tape than wrapping paper.

"Thank you, David..."

"Open it! Mr Hughes and I worked on it together."

"Oh, did you?" You look to your husband over your shoulder. He looks quietly confident, a small smile that tells you all you need to know. You're going to love it and probably cry but God, you're so thankful...so thankful for him, for your 11th graders who have one more year before they're done with school, for the baby girl you're so close to meeting, for the life you've somehow managed to fall into.

The box is long and not that wide, not overly heavy either and you open the lid carefully once all the tape and wrapping paper have been pulled off and placed into a pile.

Inside is a little hockey stick, the right size for a toddler, Bauer made because Quinn couldn't possibly get anything else and on the handle? The thing that makes you start to tear up? The name you'd chosen together for your first baby, for the little girl you were carrying right now. Penelope 'Penny' Hughes. A baby not even here yet but oh so loved by Quinn, by you, god by your students.

It's your breaking point really, holding that little stick, it's more of a promise from Quinn than anything else and maybe you could blame it on the hormones or the pain in your back...but in truth? The reason you burst into tears is because of how full of love you feel.

The students around you panic looking to Quinn for guidance and he takes it in his stride, passing the presents off to Lola, one of the more responsible students, to hold. Quinn kneels in front of you on the grotty linoleum floor, doesn't care about the price of his dress pants or the scuffs that'll surely get on his shoes. Instead his focus is on you as he pull you into his arms, belly pressing into him, stopping him getting as close as he'd like these days.

"It's okay, baby..." One of his hands cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other rubs up and down your back in soothing circles. You press your face into his neck, feeling the way he kisses the top of your head, hearing the beat of his heart, steady and sure because Quinn knows what he's doing and he's ready to help you through it too.

"I-i'm just so thankful!" Your tears are thick and fast, voice choked out as your students gaze on with wide eyes, looking at each other unsure if they've broken their teacher in a good or a bad way.

"I know, baby...are you happy?"

"V-very happy! T-thank you." It's that which causes a few tense shoulders to relax.

"You're so welcome, baby...C'mon, you're okay..." Quinn pulls you back from his neck, hands cupping your cheeks and thumbs rubbing away the wet tracks that have fallen across them and your chin. You take a few breaths before the tears stop but when you do your smile is radiant and bright, turned on your students with such appreciation that it takes Quinn's breath away as he stays kneeling there for a moment longer.

Your students take the reprieve from the tears to hand a few more presents to you. Little but no less lovely things, a onesie here, a teddy there. Each thoughtful and sweet in a way that you never expected from a bunch of high schoolers, not when you didn't realise just how much they cared for you and just how much effort Quinn would go to so that they could show it.

The rest of the period is filled with sweet treats, music, and messages your students had put together for the little one on the way. Many messages were variations of 'listen to Mrs Hughes', but each meant so much to you and when the school day ended Quinn walked you out to the car, hand on your lower back as you waddled and he carried all your things.

Your pillow, the one you use for your back, already there, your favourite snacks in the glove compartment already stocked because this was easy with Quinn. He made things easy.

"Thank you...I love you." Your voice is soft as you turn to look at him when he finally sits in the driver's seat. His cheeks flush that familiar shade of pink that tells you he doesn't need the praise, that he just wanted to do something nice for you.

"You had fun?" His fingers tap the steering wheel like he's nervous you might not have, even when it's so obvious that you've just had one of the best moments of your life, a core memory.

"So much fun." You reach out and grab his hand, his thumb rubbing across your wedding ring in a rhythmic motion like he's reminding himself that this is real. This is his life. He's married to you. He's having a baby with you.

"Good."

There's a pause, a comfortable silence where you sit and admire him in the car park. The length of his lashes, the growth of his beard, the way his hair flops across his forehead like some sort of prince charming...You're filled with a sense of wonder...bafflement too, because how did you get this lucky?

"Are you sure you're real? Maybe I've imagined you this entire time? Maybe I'm not even married? Maybe I'm not even pregnant? Maybe I'm asleep somewhere..." God, you hope not. You hope this is real, this is your life, forever, because you can't imagine it getting any better than it is right now.

"This is real, baby. I'm real. You're real. Penny is so real." Penny kicks as if she's trying to make her presence known, as if she can understand what you're saying, as if she's saying 'I'm real! I'm sooo real!'.

"Thank you for making my life unbelievably wonderful."

"Thank you for loving me." The kiss Quinn presses to your lips is gentle, but no less full of love and in that moment you feel entirely and completely whole.

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[heartlessvirgo]

Ojitos Lindos

Summary:

A fresh-faced DEA agent, new to Colombia, has zero time for Javier Peña after he leaves her hanging once.

Paring: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+MDNI, Swearing, Kissing, heavy petting, protected sex, oral, butt stuff kinda? Drug use, Mention of weapons and kidnap.

Word Count: 10.4K

part 2

A/N: Jesus Christ, this one really got out of hand. I always do this, I need to learn how to stop yapping and make my stories shorter lol. I apologize in advance for this one guys. Anyways, I hope you like this one.

You were an idiot. Plain and simple. You’d done dumb, even dangerous shit in college, but this? This was next level. Pathetic. And you knew it. Still, you couldn’t stop the flush in your cheeks every time the restaurant door swung open.

You were smart—everyone had told you your whole life. Top of your class, with a dual degree in Criminology and International Relations. So, how could you fall for something like this? Life just had to knock you on your ass at least once, and apparently, this was the time.

Stirring the cherry in your rum and coke, you noticed your lipstick had smudged from the copious times you'd licked your lips raw. It was hopeless. When you slammed the pesos on the table and stormed out, there was only one thing you were certain of.

Fuck Javier Peña.

Right after the New Year, you transferred to the DEA’s Colombia office—a move you had meticulously planned for years. This was the culmination of countless late nights spent buried in textbooks while your peers were out living their carefree college days. Now, in your mid-twenties, you have the credentials and the career to validate your sacrifices.

The initial weeks felt like stepping into a dream. The sunlit days, the vibrant culture, and the sense of purpose invigorated you. You had bought a new wardrobe to handle Colombia’s sweltering heat, eager to embrace the change in climate and your life. This was your moment—a chance to shed the reserved persona and finally unlock the vibrant, confident woman you had always felt trapped beneath layers of responsibility and caution.

That's why, after your first week, when Agent Peña noticed you, it felt like everything was falling into place. He was unbelievably handsome, undeniably skilled at his job, and you couldn't help but notice had a tight ass in even tighter jeans. It was a heady combination—one that made you think, just for a moment, that maybe things would go your way. 

He asked you out in that casual, sly way—one that should've been a red flag. Right by the copy machine, just as you bent down to grab a manila folder. But you didn’t see it then. You were new, and no one had warned you—not that you would have listened. So, you got ready hours in advance, took a taxi to the restaurant, and waited.

He never showed. Not a word afterward either, no acknowledgment that you’d waited over two hours at the place he told you to meet him. From that moment on, you swore you’d give him a hard time whenever you could. Javier, with his stupid smug grin, annoyingly handsome face, and the infuriating way he slipped under your skin like he had a map to all your weak spots.

You turn the corner just as you hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, the familiar rush of irritation bubbles to the surface. The hair on the back of your neck stands as if pointing you toward danger. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…

Strolling down the hallway with that damned confident swagger. Agent Peña makes long strides as he matches your speed and walks beside you. He cocks his head to the side, lips twitching up into a smirk. 

“Cariño, you look better and better each day.” his voice is sultry and smooth like a chocolate bar left out in the sun all day. 

“Agent Peña,” your voice is professional, cold, distant—eyes narrowing to a tunnel vision before you. 

“You wound me with your integrity. I think as friends, we are on a first-name basis now,” he replies, hand on his chest in false hurt. 

You bite back a sharp retort, feeling a knot of frustration curl in your stomach. "We are not friends; we are coworkers, if that," you respond, your voice as chilly as a sheet of ice. Your steps quicken as you wish the hallway would end, your mind swirling with one question—how did he even find you down here, in the quiet, shadowy corners of the DEA?

He keeps pace, his presence unwavering. “Ah, come on now,” he says, the edge of amusement in his voice. “You can’t tell me we haven’t already crossed that line.” His tone is a smirk, lingering in the air like perfume, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“There is no line,” you retort.

"I see your professionalism hasn't dulled your beauty," Peña murmurs, his voice dripping with that same sultry warmth. 

He walks a little closer, his head turned towards you, not hiding the subtle delight in his eyes. "Come on, you can’t be that cold, cariño. You and I know what happens when ice melts…” he bumps your shoulder and you stop midstride. He walks a little further before stopping, half turning back. He’s wearing one of his formal suits, a blue button up underneath a cream suit jacket. 

“What do you want?” You can tell he’s not here for pleasantries. He’s got that look in his eyes—like he’s got something in mind, and it sure as hell isn’t sweet small talk. He turns back to face you, observing you slowly, taking in how your hair falls differently today and how your heels click a bit louder on the floor.

He smirks, shifts his jaw, then parts his lips. “What makes you think I want something?”

You can almost hear the defensiveness in his voice, but you’re not fooled. You tilt your head, unimpressed. “I think we both know ‘bullshit’ is your middle name.”

He chuckles low, a sound that’s almost a warning in itself. “Such a blunt little thing. Colombia’s rubbed off on you, huh?”

You don’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a steady stare. “Am I wrong?”

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between you just enough to make things feel... interesting. His lips curl up at the corners as if savoring the tension.

“Bullshit, huh?” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to that smooth, almost too confident tone. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”

You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Cut the shit. You need access to a file, right? Which one?” 

His smile falters briefly, but he regains his cool almost immediately. “I was hoping you could help me with that.” 

You raise an eyebrow, looking at the files in your arms, the top stamped ‘confidential.’ “Do you have authorization? Papers, forms...?”

He shifts his weight, the slightest trace of impatience flickering behind his casual demeanor. “I don’t have time for red tape.”

You don’t back down, your gaze unwavering. “Did you fill out the proper forms? Because without them, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

His smirk is still there, but there’s a glint in his eyes now—amusement mixed with a hint of challenge. “Well, I’ll just have to talk you into it.”

You shake your head, not giving in. “Not without the right paperwork. You know the rules.”

He takes another step forward, just enough to make the air between you thicken. “I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

You feel your lips twitch into a smirk. “Maybe. But I’m also the one with the file you want.”

He smirks right back, intrigued but not ready to let it go. “Do me this favor, Please, Solo esta vez.” He says it so sweetly, reaching over to brush his fingertips against your arm, brown eyes so tender. 

You feel the pull of his gaze but keep your composure. “No hay favores sin autorización, Peña.” You make sure your words are clear—no favors without authorization.

It feels exhilarating to stand in his way, to deny him what he expects—or, in this case, what he asks so damn nicely. There’s a quiet power in it as he fixes his gaze on you, his eyes flicking down to the file on top of the stack. You can almost feel the weight of the unspoken history behind his gaze—he's probably never heard "no" before, not as a child, and certainly not now. And in this moment, it feels sweeter than it should to be the one who says it.

“Huh,” he scoffs after a moment. "Maybe Colombia’s been good for you after all." 

You walk away, pointedly ignoring him, praying he isn’t watching your ass with every sway of your hips. You focus instead on your route, heading back to drop off the files. A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips as you make your way to your office, the image of his disappointed expression lingering in your mind.

As you finish packing up for the day, Camila appears at the foot of your office, her purse casually slung over her shoulder.

“We’re heading out for drinks. You in?” Camila asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as you collect your keys.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind—refusing due to the bottle of chardonnay waiting for you at home. But something holds you back. It’s Friday. You’ve been telling yourself you’d break out of your shell this year, that being a homebody wasn’t part of the plan.

“Yeah,” you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess yourself. “Sounds fun.”

While finishing your makeup, you sip a glass of wine, the soft hum of anticipation building as you call for a taxi. The click of your heels echoes in the stairwell, a near stumble reminding you of their height as you descend from your apartment. When you arrive at the bar, your eyes sweep the room, spotting your coworkers. The black, form-fitting dress you chose hugs your curves, drawing more than a few glances as you enter.

“There you are!” Camila calls out over the pulsating music as you approach the bar. She flashes a grin and motions toward a lively group in the corner, some engrossed in darts, others deep in conversation. “We’ve got a table over there.”

Your gaze sweeps over the group, a soft smile tugging at your lips as Camila adds your drink to her tab.

“Is she new?” you murmur, subtly nodding toward the striking blonde in the blazing red dress. The fabric clings to her tall frame, accentuating her height—she even towers over you in your heels.

Camila squints, following your gaze, her eyes widening in recognition when they land on the woman.

“Fresh out of college, filling the front desk position,” she leans in, her voice low in your ear. You purse your lips, remembering what it felt like to be the new blood in a den of lions.

“How’s she doing?” you ask.

Camila shrugs. “Can’t type for shit, but she’s picking it up. We all start somewhere.”

You nod, taking a sip from your drink, letting the conversation settle with a quiet understanding.

You settle in with your coworkers, the laughter and music blending into a comforting backdrop. The evening feels light and carefree until a quiet ripple of attention shifts the mood at your table. Curious, you glance over your shoulder to see what’s caught their focus.

There he is—Agent Peña, standing impossibly close to the new hire. She’s leaning casually against the bar top, her elbows resting on the worn wood, while he hovers beside her, his arm resting just behind her back. His light-wash jeans fit snugly, the red button-up tucked in just enough to emphasize his lean waist.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest—a memory, a pang of annoyance. You almost scoff but catch yourself, the sight all too familiar. Not long ago, you were the naive girl standing in her place, drawn into his web of effortless charm.

“What a man-whore,” you mutter to the women beside you. They nod, silent yet captivated, unable to deny the allure of watching him work. His moves are calculated yet smooth, like how he leans in to light the cigarette resting between her lips, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I heard he sleeps with women to get information about the guerrillas," Camila says, the rumor so absurd it almost makes you laugh. But then again, you have no idea what happens beyond the office walls. Your world is confined to the stale scent of cigarettes and the endless rustle of paper.

"Why would they risk their lives for sex...with him?" you say, the disbelief apparent in your voice, tinged with laughter. The alcohol is loosening your tongue, making you bolder than usual.

Camila leans in, her tone more serious as she says your name, drawing the attention of the women at the table, who suddenly avert their eyes. "There’s got to be a reason he sleeps around, right? Maybe he’s just... really good at it?" she suggests, and you scoff, shaking your head. You don’t believe that; no one could be that good at sex.

Isabel nods, and a few other women follow suit. You swallow hard, the realization settling heavily in your chest: he’d slept with all of them, used them. The looks of quiet resignation on their faces send a sharp pang through you as they watch him, a silent understanding shared between them.

A heavy silence lingers at the table, the weight of old wounds too much to bear. You can’t stand it anymore. Standing up, you excuse yourself without a word, heading to the bar to order one last drink before closing out for the night.

“Let me get this one,” you hear and feel someone slip in beside you. It's Agent Murphy, and he offers you a warm smile. Of the two, you always preferred Murphy. He was respectful—always saying "please" and "thank you," never once flirting with you. You’d even shared dinners with his wife at his home several times. If the DEA building were on fire, you’d choose to save Steve over Peña without a second thought. Did that make you a bad person?

“How are you getting home?” he asks, his tone casual as he slides a few pesos onto the bar before turning to face the crowd, his back to the counter.

“Probably a taxi. I didn’t bring my car,” you reply, nursing your drink as the two of you watch the ebb and flow of people around you.

“Let me give ya a ride home,” he says, and you feel the familiar burn of alcohol easing in your chest. 

“I’ll be fine, really. It’s out of your way,” you wave him off, trying to sound casual. You’ve never had an issue with taxis before, and the pepper spray in your purse gives you some comfort. Not to mention, you’re no stranger to self-defense.

“Don’t argue with me,” he replies, lifting his beer to his lips. “Connie’d kill me if she found out I let you take a damn taxi in this country.”

You exhale a sigh, nodding at his insistence. His chivalry is almost endearing in its persistence. You glance at Peña, a fleeting thought passing through your mind: Why couldn’t he be more like Murphy? Your gaze then diverts to the table, where the women still observe Peña and the new hire. They’re tangled together now, their mouths colliding, the kiss hungry and unrestrained, leaving little to the imagination.

You look away, trying to hold it together and avoid vomiting on the bar floor.

“Javier still asking for favors?” Murphy asks, pulling your focus back to him.

“He knows the answer’s always no. Whatever he wants, it’s not coming from me. I’ve got to stick to the rules, even if the rest of them are crooked,” you say, setting your empty glass down on the bar.

“I told ‘em to stop asking, especially with the promotion and all,” he mutters. But there’s no stopping Peña—not even Murphy. You haven’t forgotten about the promotion you’ve been working your ass off for. Every move you make, every time you tell Peña to fuck off, is a gamble. One wrong step, and you’ll be screwed, even for eyes like those. 

“I can handle him,” you say softly, turning to look at the two again, but it’s just the blonde. 

You can feel the shift in the air as you stand there before seeing him. Peña approaches—slow and deliberate like he’s got all the time in the world. He stops short of invading your personal space, his presence almost suffocating.

“You two look cozy,” His voice is low, and despite himself, there's that smirk—cocky, lewd, and dangerously familiar. The red neon lights create shadows across his features. He looks devilish, like any second, and he’ll grow horns to match his attitude. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can feel your pulse quicken. Even when he’s being a jerk, there’s something magnetic about him, like a tension waiting to snap. It must be the alcohol. You had never seen him while you were drinking and avoided seeing him outside of work at all costs. 

"I didn’t realize you moonlighted as a comedian, Peña," you mutter, trying to inject a bit of bite into your words, hoping it'll deter him. But he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head and slowly swigs his beer. You watch the movement in his throat as it dips, the faint trace of lipstick marking his jaw and neck.

“Ay, cariño, you always know how to keep things interesting,” he says, his tone smooth, not missing a beat.

"Who are you trying to impress here, Peña? It's exhausting." you feel your cheeks flush with anger but attempt to suppress it. But it’s hard, so hard, when all he does is use people. And the alcohol makes it so easy to rip him a new one, bite his head off, or ruin his night. All you knew was he twisted something inside you, and you didn’t know how to uncoil that. 

"Impress? Not trying to impress anyone," Peña says with a slight smirk, looking at Murphy like he’ll have his back, his voice low and relaxed. "I just do what I do. If it bothers you, that's on you." He shifts his weight and juts a hip out. His eyes study you, your body, and your face like he's trying to figure something out. Then he shrugs, "But you sure seem like you’re trying to impress me, though."

Your cheeks flush bright red at his false accusation. No, you did not dress to impress anyone, let alone Javier fucking Pena. No way. 

“I would never try to impress you, never.” you spit, glancing at Murphy. He gives you an amused smirk as he watches you two square up. Like he knows something you don’t. Ugh, not him too. You hoped Pena wasn’t rubbing off on him. 

"Sure thing, cariño," he says, flashing a grin as he drags his tongue across his pink bottom lip—the one that juts out whenever he's upset, lost in thought, or buried in paperwork. Damn.

You stomp away, shaking your head, trying to shake off the frustration. You round the table, offering a quick goodbye to the women before grabbing your purse. As you head for the door, you pass the blonde woman, the compact in her hand as she reapplies her lipstick. You feel a pang of sympathy for her, but you're not about to come off as a bitch. So, instead, you do the only thing you know how to do—take another shot at Peña.

"Hey, you’re new here, right?" you ask, your tone soft and genuine. It's not the kind of conversation you typically start with, but something about her makes you feel bad. She snaps her compact closed with a quick flick, and her smile catches you off guard momentarily. It’s an innocent, almost naïve expression, and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it makes your chest tighten. She looks over at Peña briefly before meeting your eyes again, her expression shifting, maybe uncertain but hopeful. 

"Yeah—" she begins, but you don’t let her finish.

"Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Agent Peña," you say, your voice low but pointed, trying and failing to suppress the hint of amusement tugging at your lips. "He’s got a bad case of crabs. Like antibiotic resistant, gave it to the whole second floor."

You almost smile at how her face shifts between disgust and disbelief, but you keep your composure as Peña steps into the conversation. He glances between the two of you, a smirk on his lips.

"Good evening, ladies," he says, his voice smooth and effortless.

"Buenas noches," you reply smugly. You turn and walk away, not sparing them another glance, leaving the air between them thick with confusion. Behind you, you can hear her reaction—sharp, disgusted, and Peña, as usual, too slow to understand what just happened.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Murphy laughs, shaking his head as you both step out of the bar.

The next day, the Mercado is lively in the early morning, bustling with vendors shouting over one another to draw in customers. The air smells of ripe fruit and freshly baked bread, the sharp tang of herbs mixing with the earthy scent of soil. Stalls line the narrow paths, overflowing with vibrant produce. The morning sun casts long shadows on the ground, but the heat is already rising, making the place hum.

You’re wearing shorts, a tank top, and a flowy white blouse as the breeze flows past you. You wander slowly, letting the vibrant colors and sounds wash over you. You don’t quite know what you’re looking for, but moving through the crowd feels like something small you can control in a still unknown place. 

Bending down to get a better look at the fruit before you, the market’s chaos continues—loud, alive, but somehow distant.

Then, a sudden shift. As if the air seems to tighten, the market buzz fading as you hear a purposeful, smooth clearing of a throat behind you. And it's like the space around you narrows because that subtle sound is something you could recognize in a crowded room. Or a busy market. Without even turning around, you know it’s him.

“Well, well, I thought you’d be nursing a hangover,” Peña says, his voice a little too easy, like he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting around every corner, like he’d orchestrated it. 

"Are you following me?" The words slip out, half accusation, half curiosity. You don't need to look over your shoulder to know he’s standing there, one hip out.  His presence becomes more like a shadow at your back—unavoidable, unsettling.

Peña’s chuckle rumbles behind you, low and unbothered, as if the question amuses him more than it irritates. The tension in the air seems to pull tighter, and for a moment, you wonder if you could even breathe properly. His proximity, that unmistakable energy he carries, presses into your space, making you feel more aware of him than the people around you.

The moment hangs there for a beat before Peña speaks again, his words now threaded with a sense of casual authority. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know where you like to shop.” There’s no mistaking the teasing in his voice now, the hint of a smile lurking behind his words.

You take a step forward, the weight of his gaze on you like a constant pull. But you refuse to let it show—refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s successfully annoyed you. Instead, you keep walking steadily to create distance, though the space seems to shrink with every step.

He doesn’t follow immediately. For a moment, the market feels normal again. The chatter of vendors, the shuffling of shoes. Everything around you is mundane and ordinary. But you know, without turning, that he’s still there. That he’s watching, sunglasses low on his arched nose, casting a cool shadow over the sharp lines of his face. His presence isn’t loud but it sure is undeniable, and you can feel the hair on your neck rise. 

The deli vendor shifts his gaze between you and Peña, clearly caught in the tension. Peña leans forward just slightly, his voice a soft, almost bored command. “Get the filet; it’s more tender, and for godsakes, get the cut from the back, por favor.”

You barely register the vendor’s nod as you drag your attention away from Peña’s words. You fix your gaze on the glass display of meats, a silent war playing out in your head. You adjust the weight of the produce bag slung over your shoulder. It’s heavier than you remember, or maybe your anger is getting the best of you.

“Why are you still here?” You snap the question more out of habit than genuine curiosity, keeping your eyes trained on the man wrapping the meat in front of you, unwilling to look at him for fear of seeing the grin you know is there.

His shadow shifts and there is a faint laugh in his voice as he responds. You feel the warmth of his body just beside yours. Like one wrong move, and you’d brush against his side. 

“Got a tip about this place, I didn’t follow you here, princesa.” His tone is low, too smooth, like something that shouldn’t feel dangerous but does anyway.

You don't know what it is about him, why his proximity twists your insides into knots. Maybe it’s how he speaks, knowingly, like he’s been around long enough to make every word feel like an unspoken challenge. Perhaps it’s the way he stands, always just a bit too close, constantly too aware of where you are. Or what he wears, jeans and a white shirt, so casual. It makes you…It makes you angry. 

You finally turn to face him, and there it is. The slight arch of his brow, the small smirk that tugs at his lips. His mustache, perfect in its precision, only adds to the irritation that surges up your spine. How can someone look so deliberately smug and idiotic at the same time?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snap, the tips of your ears burning.

Peña’s gaze flicks to you, sharp momentarily, before his usual cool indifference settles back in. He shifts his weight against the counter, one elbow resting lazily on the edge, the picture of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world. “Probably,” he says, his mouth curling into a faint smirk. “But this is more fun.”

You both stand there, an invisible line drawn in the air between you, a standoff. Peña won’t leave, and part of you knows that now. 

The vendor clears his throat, and you pay him, thanking him quickly. You can feel Peña’s eyes on you as you pivot and begin to walk away.

You trudge through the hectic Mercado, your grocery bag digging into your arm as you weave between people. The crowd swirls around you, but you feel him, steady and unwavering, hot on your heels. The crowd parts for Peña, fluid and instinctual, like the Red Sea before Moses. It’s not the kind of attention anyone asks for, but it’s the kind he commands without effort.

Finally, you spill out of the Mercado and onto the street, the bustling noise fading into the background. Your arm aches under the bag's weight, but you keep walking, your sneakers tapping against the cracked pavement. You can still hear the soft patter of his boots behind you, the sound just a touch too close.

“Peña, I don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter, furrowing your brows. You stop, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking, though something in his posture changes. Different from any other time, a hushed gravity suspends in the air. He glances over his shoulder, eyes scanning the space behind him. One hand rests on his hip, and you catch the flash of metal beneath his shirt—the weight of a holstered gun.

You glance down the street. It’s eerily silent, with no stray cars and no pedestrians. The street feels barren like it’s holding its breath. The midday sun beats down on the asphalt, but a strange chill pricks the back of your neck. The air feels thin, too still, like something is off—like the world has paused, waiting.

You don’t know how he noticed, but he did. It’s almost imperceptible, yet instinctively, you realize that this is what he does best— always been one step ahead. You’ve never seen him in action before, not like this. There’s a certain precision in how his gaze scans the surroundings, so calculating, his movements so fluid they seem choreographed. It’s almost… beautiful in its deadly grace. It's terrifying.

His eyes flick to you, locking onto yours with a look that needs no words. You don’t question it. You simply follow him, your voice lost, swallowed by the heavy air between you. The grocery bag you were so annoyed about carrying moments ago feels like a distant memory, the weight forgotten as your heart hammers in your chest.

He moves with purpose, his strides long and steady, leading you away from the busy street into an alley that smells faintly of wet concrete and diesel. It’s quieter here, the sounds of the city muffled by the walls that close in around you. The heat of the midday sun lingers in the narrow space, but there's a chill in the air as you see the shadow of a few men lurking just out of sight.

He stops abruptly in front of a metal gate and taps in a pin with the precision of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. The gate creaks open, and he gestures for you to slip inside. You do so without a second thought, too caught up in the moment's urgency to ask questions. 

The door shuts behind you with a low thud, the echo sharp in the quiet. Javier’s gun is out before you realize it, his movements swift. You’re in a long hallway, and he leads you to another door, which he unlocks with a key. 

He locks the deadbolt behind him, his eyes never leaving the peephole. Only then do you notice where you are.

You linger in the living room, the remnants of adrenaline humming beneath your skin as your eyes sweep over the space. This isn’t what you imagined. You thought he’d live in a place that screamed Javier Peña—something flashy, brash, maybe a little careless, with leather couches, a stocked bar, and ashtrays scattered like afterthoughts. A bachelor pad built for indulgence, not permanence. But this?

This is a home—the kind of place that feels oddly welcoming as if the walls themselves had been warmed by the life lived inside them. Sunlight spills in through half-drawn curtains, casting soft patterns on worn furniture. The couch—slightly lumpy with cushions that have clearly seen better days—faces a modest coffee table scarred with the faintest traces of water rings and cigarette burns. A stack of records leans precariously against a battered turntable in the corner, their spines worn smooth with use.

The air smells faintly of tobacco, wood polish, and something you can’t quite place—maybe the ghost of cologne clinging to his leather jacket. The infamous jacket you’d seen him shrug into as he and Murphy made their way out of the office.

Not that you’d habitually thought about his house or the things he’d keep in it. Or him. Definitely not him.

“Someone’s been following you. Who knows for how long,” he mutters, his tone sharp, clipped, and brimming with restrained anger.

He moves to the window, parting the blinds with two fingers just enough to peer outside. The barrel of his weapon stays low, the gleam of the steel catching a sliver of sunlight.

His eyes sweep the street, and the hardened look on his face is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. 

“Me? I’m nobody. Why the hell would anyone follow me?” you ask, your voice cracking under the pressure of trying to sound unaffected.

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the street beyond the glass, every muscle in his body so taut you can see the ripple beneath his shirt.

“Doesn’t matter who you are,” he mutters, his voice low and cutting through the street noise like a blade. “They find out you’re with the DEA, and you’ve got a target on your back.”

Your pulse quickens and the sound of blood rushing in your ears drowns out the quiet of the room. The space suddenly feels smaller, every shadow sharper, and the calm you’d clung to is now a distant memory.

Your mind races, but all the thoughts are tangled up in a knot—half of you wants to dismiss it, to say he’s just trying to scare you, to brush it off as just another part of the job. But the other half knows this is real. 

“So what, I’m just gonna have men wanting to kidnap me?” you say, upset, your grocery bag thumping on his couch as you sigh. This was a big deal, a huge deal, but right now, in your career, it felt more like an inconvenience. 

“You don’t get it,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly, the weight of his words carrying a tone of finality. His voice is low and firm, like a man who’s seen too much and no longer has time for explanations. 

“They wouldn’t just kidnap you…” He trails off, but you don’t need him to finish the sentence. The image plays out in your mind—a quiet warning etched with the brutality only someone like Peña could understand.

You swallow, and for the first time, reality's sharp, biting edge sinks in. The world outside this room or your office walls wasn’t just something you could read about in reports or watch on the news. It’s here. It’s now. 

Peña moves from the window, holstering his gun but keeping his hand close to his hip. You stare at him, his dark eyes unreadable. His silence makes the room feel smaller like he’s drawing you in despite the distance between you.

You cross your arms, trying to force some semblance of control, though your breath is coming faster now. “I’ve dealt with danger before, Peña. This... This isn’t a fucking movie.”

He looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s trying to read you, see through the layers of bravado you’re wearing. “This isn’t the same thing,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “You’re not in control here.”

The words hit harder than you expect, striking a nerve you didn’t know you had. A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passes over you, but you force it down. You don’t need him to see that.

“And you think you can protect me?” you ask, the question escaping before you can stop it. There’s a sharpness in your tone, a mixture of challenge and... curiosity.

“Protect you?” he repeats, his tone dry but not unkind. “Cariño, I don’t think they’re handing out medals for saving you from yourself.” He smirks faintly, his eyes flicking to how you stand out in the room like it’s absurd. “But if you’re hell-bent on getting snatched, by all means, call a taxi. I could use the night off.”

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the bag of groceries that still rests on the couch. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Peña,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the conviction it had a few minutes ago.

“Good,” he replies, brows furrowing as you attempt to walk past him. “Then don’t make me waste my time playing knight in shining armor. You’re safe here—now let me figure out what we’re gonna do.” He reaches for you, grabbing your upper arm with a strength you know is half the power. 

You pause mid-stride, the weight of his grip burning through the sleeve of your thin shirt. So thin you can basically feel his fingerprints burning into your flesh. It’s not painful, not even close—but how he holds you feels like a tether to something you’re not sure you want to name. You glance down at his large hand before trickling up towards his gaze, the dark pools of his eyes crackling with frustration.

“I don’t need you to rescue me,” you snap, trying to inject more steel into your words than you actually feel. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupts, his voice low and sharp enough to cut. “You’re not a damsel. You think you can handle this yourself,” he recites like it’s a joke like you’re a joke. 

The heat in your chest flares, half from his words and half from how he’s still holding on, as though letting go isn’t an option. Like you’re a kid, naive. “Let go of me, Peña,” you say, warning in your eyes, quieter this time. But this feels different than other times, more at stake, your close proximity, the walls around you. You feel inebriated as if your thoughts won’t flow in a cohesive line no matter how hard you try. 

He was drawing you in, the shift in his gaze disarming. Those brown eyes—soft, searching, almost wounded—held a weight that made breathing hard. They begged for something you weren’t sure you could give. Or maybe he just wanted you to believe they did.

And damn it, it was working.

You could feel yourself slipping, the sharp edges of your anger dulling against the pull of his presence. Every rational thought screamed at you to hold your ground, to remember who he was and what he’d done. This was his play, wasn’t it? The practiced vulnerability, the carefully crafted sincerity meant to turn you into putty in his hands.

And yet, the worst part was how you wanted to let it happen. To let those stupid, heartbreakingly tender eyes convince you that he wasn’t all bad. That you weren’t just another stop along the way to wherever he’d inevitably disappear to next.

It made you want to scream. Or maybe slap him. Or yourself—whoever deserved it more in this moment.

His hand eases its grip on your arm, but his fingers linger, curved just enough to stay connected. Not holding, not quite, just there—as if to remind himself you’re real. “Quédate aquí,” he says, his voice low, a shade too soft. Almost pleading. Almost breaking. That sound—it crawls under your skin and wraps itself around your ribs. You hate how it settles, molten and insistent, dragging heat low in your belly.

“Por favor.” His tone shifts, like a secret he can’t entirely swallow. “Do me this favor, just once.”

“Fine. Just once…” Your eyes betray you, flickering to his mouth. It’s unfair how there’s no smirk to hide behind this time. No shield from that damn cupid’s bow, sharp and pouty. Your gaze trails upward—his nose, the slope of it, the way it catches the light—until you meet his eyes. He’s watching you, his focus as unyielding as a snare, as though cataloging every place you’ve been looking, every thought you’re trying not to have.

“Give me that,” His fingers find the strap of your bag, curling around it effortlessly as if it belongs to him. He slowly lifts it off your shoulder, and you don’t stop him. You don’t move. You just let him, even when it should annoy you, even when his hand brushing yours feels like a sizzling brand.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” He doesn’t say a word as he sets your bag down on the couch. His movements are all too intentional, too measured. You barely register the sound of the fabric hitting the cushion before he turns back to you.

Your breath catches somewhere in your throat. He's too close again, close enough that the room feels like it's folding in on itself, bending around the space between you as if it’s trying to force you together.

“So I’ve been told,” He replies, not even a hint of surprise in his eyes.

You stand there, frozen, almost daring the air to crack, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to step back and put more distance between you. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Distance doesn't change how it feels. The weight of him, the pull of him—it's suffocating, magnetic. You're trembling, though you can’t decide if it's from the desire to step closer or the fear of what giving in might mean.

Your neck burns with heat, crawling up, spreading like wildfire, and you hate that it's happening. Hate that he’s the reason your pulse is racing, your skin buzzing with sensitivity. You can’t give in. You’ve seen it. The way women fall over themselves for him, like moths to a flame. No, he wasn’t going to make you another notch in his belt. 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding louder than any words you might say. You want to speak, to break the silence before it consumes you, but all that comes out is a shaky breath—louder than the thoughts tearing at your insides.

No words make it past the lump in your throat. You want to tell him to step away, to fuck off, to stop looking at you like that. But you know that would mean walking away from this. From him. And the thought alone makes you want to crumble into yourself.

You were an idiot once again, shaking, wanting him—wanting everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t. You swore you were stronger than this and that you didn’t want to be the woman waiting for him to finally choose you.

But the heat pulses like it’s alive, and you can’t stop the furrow in your brows, physically pained by the scorch. You don’t even know if he realizes how badly you’re fighting to hold yourself together. His eyes are black, unreadable. But they’re too soft. Too focused on you.

The pressure in the room inflates until every breath you take feels labored.

So close, the warmth of Peña’s body radiates off him, yet it’s his gaze that pins you in place. His eyes drop to your face, and the space between you seems to shrink even more until you can feel his breath grazing your skin, every inhale a whisper against you.

Then, without a word, without any sign of warning, his hand reaches up. You hold your breath, bracing for something, anything, but the touch is different—gentle, almost tentative. His fingers brush the stray strands of hair away from your face, sweeping them behind your ear. It’s a delicate movement, but its weight hangs in the air like he’s touching something fragile, something delicate. His hand stays there for a moment, just lingering at the side of your face, the softness of his touch almost mocking the storm of heat inside you. You want to flinch, to pull away, but you stop short. Not when he’s so close, not when the very air is thick with this... this electricity that’s become impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t let go, though. His fingers curve around the back of your neck, pulling you slightly closer, his thumb brushing over your jaw in a way that’s almost too intimate, too tender. His gaze flicks between your eyes, searching for something, and you can’t look away. You can’t look anywhere else.

“Stop me,” His lips barely skim yours at first—just a whisper of contact that sends shockwaves through your body. It’s almost too much to bear, but you don’t pull away. 

A soft, breathy moan slips out of you before your lips even touch fully, a sound that feels so raw, so unguarded. His hand tightens on your jaw, pulling you into him, and in the next instant, his mouth is on yours, desperate, fervent, as if he can’t stand the space between you for even a second longer.

It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a kiss born from restraint, from months of wanting something he didn’t think he could have. His lips part yours with an almost brutal force, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. His tongue slides against yours, hot, wet, seeking—hungry. There’s no finesse to it, no lingering moment of sweetness. It’s primal like he’s finally allowing himself to take what’s been torturing him for too long.

The kiss escalates, and for a heartbeat, everything else falls away. It’s just him and you and this electricity, the raw need surging between you. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough, as if the torture has taken over every rational thought he had.

Your breath is stolen, and so are your thoughts. So consumed by the fire in your veins, the taste of his tongue, the firmness of his shoulders beneath your hands. He pulls away so quick it feels like he’s taken the breath from you.

"If you don’t stop me," he murmurs, his voice cracking under the weight of his own need. His thumb strokes the edge of your jaw, the touch so light it sends a shiver down your spine. "Cariño, please—" He swallows hard, his lips hovering just close enough to tempt you. "—tell me to stop. Or I won’t."

The words are pained as if saying them costs him everything. His breath is warm against your mouth, his forehead nearly pressing to yours, and the vulnerability in his voice cuts through the haze, grounding you even as your body betrays you with how badly you want to close the distance again.

“Then don’t,” you reply, swallowing the regret you know is rising in your thoughts. What would be the use of regretting now when the line has already been crossed? 

A low, guttural growl rumbles from Javier’s throat as he kisses you again, the kind of kiss that swallows your breath and sets fire to every fiber of your being.  His chest heaves against yours, his frustration bleeding into every press of his lips, every flick of his tongue. It’s as if he’s punishing you for every bratty retort, every dismissive glance, and for the endless nights you’d unwittingly occupied his mind.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with heat and accusation. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. “You know that, don’t you? Torturing me every damn day.”

His hands drop from your neck, sliding down to your hips with a bruising grip, his fingers digging into your flesh as though trying to leave his mark. The pain mingles with pleasure, leaving you wanting more.

You rise on your toes, desperate to meet him, to feel him. The contrast between his towering frame and your smaller form only intensifies the ache pooling low in your belly. He doesn’t make you wait—he never would—his strong hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you up with effortless ease.

Your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms circle his neck, fingers threading through the hair at the nape.

He doesn’t bother with asking permission. His movements are rough, almost frantic, as he blindly carries you through the dimly lit apartment. When he reaches his room, he kicks the door shut with a force that rattles the frame. The darkness swallows you both, but you don’t care. Your only focus is the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his arousal straining against you, and the way he growls when you grind down on him.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, as if you’ve unraveled him in ways he’s not used to. His words are a contradiction—gruff and demanding but with an edge of vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

Your back hits the mattress, and he leans over you, his body caging you in. His hands roam your sides, calloused and sure, and you arch into him, a moan spilling from your lips as you chase his touch. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes burning with something that feels almost possessive.

“How ‘bout you show me then?” you fire, the familiar counter making you feel like you’ve found some semblance of control.

Javier's eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as if your challenge caught him off guard. But the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying the ghost of a cocky smile. “As long as you’re sure,” he replies, a dangerous mix of plea and provocation. It’s like he’s daring you to falter, daring you to back out—while silently begging you not to.

You scoff, leaning up, your lips brushing against his but never quite touching. The tease of it burns more than any kiss could. “Don’t get soft with me,” you whisper, your voice low. “I don’t like soft. I like to get fucked. Think you can give me that, Javier?”

His name, spoken like that—soft, intimate, a prayer all at once—makes something deep in him snap. He isn’t used to this, to you. To someone who doesn’t shy away, who doesn’t melt the moment he touches them, who doesn’t give him that instant satisfaction of control.

You’re not yielding, not letting him fall into his usual rhythm. No, you’re setting the pace, and he’s following—fumbling, even—like some love-drunk fool. 

Javier leans down into your neck, the scent of your skin filling his lungs, intoxicating him. “Careful, cariño,” he warns, though the words lack their usual sharpness. They make him shake, his cock strain in his jeans. “You might just get exactly what you’re asking for.” 

You push at his shoulders, your hands urging him back. He doesn't hesitate, scooting off the bed with swift, practiced movements. Like he’d done this a million times, and the thought of that angered you. It made something flare in your eyes as you watched him, his fingers working the buttons and zippers. 

When he’s finally bare, the hard, defined lines of his body seem almost too much to take in all at once. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his cock already thick and leaking. He looks at you, eyes shadowed and hungry, as he kneels on the bed.

His fingers curl around the waistband of your shorts, dragging them off your hips along with your panties, the fabric scraping over your skin as he exposes you to him. Before you can process the shift, his fingers catch the hem of your tank top, yanking it down with such force that the seam strains. 

The path of his gaze burns into your skin, trailing across the valley of your breasts and down to where you close your thighs. He places his hands on your knees and spreads you wide open.

“Hiding such a pretty pussy from me, look at you.” Javier’s cock twitches at the sight of you on your back, head against his pillows. You were in his bed, and the glisten of your pussy as she dripped onto his sheets was because of him. And that made his chest rise and his cock weep.

You weren’t hiding anything—but the way he said it made something inside you flare, a fierce urge to prove him wrong surging through you. “Javier,” you say, dragging your hand down your stomach and to your lips, spreading yourself open for him with your fingers. You could feel the mess, the slickness that coated your fingers just from finally giving in. It felt so freeing. 

You sit up, breathless, just as Javier leans down. You raise your fingers to his mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate—his lips parting just enough for your fingers to slip past them.

His tongue flicks out, velvet-soft, running along the length of your fingers in a slow, hot caress. He sucks them in, drawing them deeper, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in his gaze. Each pull of his mouth sends a jolt of heat spiraling through you.

“Fucking heaven,” he breathes out like he’s just had a taste of something long denied.

“Ass up,” he demands, his words a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Let me see you like that, baby.”

You give it to him—your body obeying before your mind can catch up. You twist, moving slowly and carefully, your muscles aching as you position yourself. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pushing your head into the sheets, muffling your breath.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, your voice strained and muffled against the sheets.

Javier doesn’t answer. 

Instead, you feel him shift behind you, a growl rumbling in his chest before you feel the unmistakable warmth of his mouth on your pussy. His tongue flicks against you, tasting you like he’s been starving for this moment. You gasp, a sharp, involuntary sound slipping past your lips as he delves deeper, his tongue greedy and frantic as it drags along your slit, teasing and claiming in one motion.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling them wider, giving him better access as he feasts on you, wholly absorbed in the act. Your knees sink into the mattress, your hands clutching the sheets as you feel his tongue slipping up to your other hole, circling it with the tip of his tongue. You cry out, the feeling so foreign yet so delicious.

You feel him lick into your folds, his tongue swirling your clit, circling, and dipping lower as if to explore every inch of you. His breath is hot, his lips pressing against you as he eats you from behind like a man possessed, relentless, driven by need. He doesn’t care about anything but the taste of you, the feeling of you writhing beneath his touch.

Your hips buck involuntarily, pressing back into him, wanting more, needing more. It feels like he’s owning you, taking what he wants without hesitation, and the power of it makes your head spin.

He’s pulling an orgasm from you like he’s been trained to—like he knows every inch of your body, every reaction, every breath you take. Like he’s studied you and your body, found its rhythm, its tempo, and now he's using it against you, claiming you in ways you didn’t think you could be claimed.

“Javier, please,” You gasp, your breath coming in short, jagged bursts as you surrender to the rush of blood, the intense pull of your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling. He doesn’t stop, not even when you shake, when your body gives in ultimately, and you attempt to pull away.

Only when he deems it right does he pull away, wiping where you coat his chin, and he reaches into his bedside table without a word. Spent; you hear him rip open a condom in silence as he rolls it on his cock. You feel his hands on your hips not a moment later, the tip of his cock swipes along your pussy before inching in.

Javier can feel the aftershocks of your first orgasm, the way you clenched around the tip of his cock before he can get another inch in. And it made him gasp, how tightly you clamped on to him; it felt like you were suffocating him. His self-restraint was hanging on by a thread, but you pushed back against him, sinking him further into your soaked pussy until he was buried balls deep. You were hot and soft inside, and Javier tensed as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. 

“Damn, cariño, wish you could see this.” You hear him say over your shoulder, and you twist your neck to watch him. Large hands on the globes of your ass, watching himself disappear into you as you feel him hit something deep inside you each time. 

You feel the subtle flex of his muscles as he shifts, pressing deeper into you. The rhythm intensifies, and the familiar stir of heat coils tight in your stomach. He moves steadily, his hand sliding down to your tit, squeezing and pulling at your nipple. 

Then, with a deliberate pull, his hand wraps around your throat, the pressure possessive. He guides you upward, forcing you to rise on your knees, and the shift brings a new angle, deeper, harder. He grips your jaw to keep you there, his breath fanning against your hair as if he's inhaling the very essence of you, a soft exhale against your neck. 

Each thrust is deeper than the last, a steady rhythm that threatens to shatter the fragile control you still cling to. He’s unrelenting, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, his teeth grazing the tender curve of your neck. He bites into your flesh so hard it stings, so hard you’ll be branded for life. 

You gasp, the burn of his teeth searing into your skin, and he presses harder, pinning you against him. “Say my name,” he growls as he licks against the bite, “who makes you feel this way?”

You can barely catch your breath before his hand is at your head, forcing you down into the sheets again. The pressure of his palm is suffocating, but something is intoxicating about it, the way he has you utterly in his grasp. You can’t hold back the soft, desperate mewl that slips from your lips as you push back against him, needing more, wanting to feel the tension build once again.

“Javier… you…fuck me so good. So perfect,” you whisper, the words slipping out almost without control, as if your body is speaking for you. Javier watches as you snake your hand between your thighs, a whimper leaving your throat as you rub at your swollen and slick clit. 

“Makin’ me lose my mind, cariño,” Javier growls, his voice rough with the effort to keep his composure. The pulse of your pussy around him drives him crazy, and he presses forward, each movement bringing him closer to the edge. “Give me another, please. I know you can.”

The way he says it, how he begs for it, like a man on his knees for you. 

You hold onto the memory—this moment when Javier Peña begs for you, so desperate, so…pathetic.

“That’s it,” Javier's grip tightens on you as he moves deeper, a low groan escaping his chest. You feel every inch of his thick cock, the way his rhythm matches the frantic pace of your fingers, your body bracing for the inevitable release.

“Got you cariño, make me feel so good…your perfect pussy,” A litany of words spill from his mouth, his string of thoughts caught in the air. A sob catches in your throat, the pressure mounting before it finally breaks, coursing through you like a storm. Your nails dig into your palms as your body trembles for the second time, the world around you blurring with tears. The sensation of him inside you, his rhythm pushing you to the edge and beyond.

Javier’s breath is harsh and heavy as he spills into the condom. You feel the pulse of him deep inside you, and the sensation lingers long after he’s finished.

"Shit," he mutters, his voice strained as he swallows thickly. There is a moment of silence, of pure peace, before you startle when you feel the soft brush of his lips on your shoulder—gentle, almost too tender. It’s a sharp contrast to the bite he left there, his teeth still tenderly marking your skin. His kiss lingers for a heartbeat, a soft, almost intimate gesture before he pulls away completely. After a moment, he withdraws his softening cock, and the pressure inside you eases.

He pulls himself away from the bed, and the sudden movement makes your head spin. You push yourself up, too, feeling the rush of blood hit your temples, the pressure building in your skull. Your eyes follow him as he tosses the used condom into the trash, his hands trembling. With a sigh, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table, lights one with a shaky flick of his thumb, and exhales slowly. The smoke curls in the dim light, hanging in the air like a silent afterthought.

“I can give you a ride home, but I don’t think your groceries are going to make it,” he says, his voice light with that same casual humor. He takes a drag from his cigarette, then holds it out toward you, offering it like it’s some sort of peace offering.

You don’t move toward it, and the sight of him—already dressed, already dismissing the moment with that effortless charm—sends a jolt of bitterness through you. This is how he does it, isn’t it? Fucks them, smokes, gets dressed, then sends them on their way. You dress quickly, and finish pulling on your shoes, the awkwardness of the moment hitting you all at once. Without a word, you turn and head for the door.

“Hey!” His voice stops you in your tracks. “You can’t just leave. Who knows if it’s safe? Don’t be reckless. Cariño, ven acá.”

You roll your eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. “Call it post-nut clarity, Javier.” You reply with the same sarcasm in your tone. 

You yank the door open, ready to leave, but then stop dead in your tracks. Murphy stands in the doorway, his hand suspended in the air as if he’d been about to knock. His blue eyes widen in surprise when they meet yours. His lips part slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow as his gaze flicks past you, settling on Javier—shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

Heat floods your already flushed cheeks, making your skin feel tight, and in that instant, everything becomes too vivid. Too exposed. You stand there, caught in a moment of sheer embarrassment. The awkwardness is suffocating, yet strangely, you don’t know whether you want to run or stay and unravel the feeling that has suddenly settled in your chest. 

You do the only thing that feels right in the moment—you run. You brush past Murphy, the heat of his presence lingering just behind you as he follows. It’s perfect, really. He’ll drive you home, and you’ll avoid the awkward confrontation with Javier. You won’t have to face him telling you, in the most painfully polite way, that he isn’t interested, that he never was. You don’t need that kind of false pity. Not from him. Not when he got the whole thing twisted. 

You wanted this—just this. A fuck, nothing more. And you didn’t want him to think you wanted more. 

But then, you make the mistake of glancing back. And when you do, you catch it—Javier’s gaze, sad brown eyes darkened with something you can’t quite place. His brows furrow slightly, and for the briefest moment, his expression cracks open in a way you didn’t expect. Hurt?

No. You’re reading it wrong. It’s not hurt. It’s...relief.

Javier Peña only ever cared about one person—himself. You’d known that from the moment you first crossed paths.

The truth hit hard, but it was the only thing that made sense: leaving first was a favor. And for once, you didn’t feel bad about walking away.

[cutehoons02]

Snow angel

*pairing: popular frat?boy Jake x good girl

*trope: fake dating/Christmas vacation

*tags: Jake has a little crush on the protagonist, touching, shy girl with people but not with Jake, christmas trope,kiss, fluffy, green flag

*synopsis: Jake had a little crush on you but in those few times he saw you, he never had the courage to approach you but thanks to a project organized by the university he would have the way of talking and maybe ask you to be his fake girlfriend for a certain time of the year

comments are appreciated

*word count: 5.8k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:) my masterlist

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It had been snowing in Seoul for almost a week and a thick layer of snow was washing the entire university football field, there were lots of snowmen and some snow angels formed by the shapes of the boys who had jumped to the ground and moving they had formed forms that looked like little angels, Y/n loved everything that represented winter and would dream of spending time as did all the boys of his age going shopping for Christmas markets, playing under the snow, make snow angels and who can also give his first kiss under a romantic snowstorm but being conspicuously shy and always full of the study had never experienced these things but maybe an angel human to how popular with the obsession for lego, music, and physics would have expressed some of his desires...

Seoul University had decorated the entire inner hall leading to the various classrooms with countless Christmas decorations. Still, one thing that made students smile and excited was a small Christmas house in the middle of the large entrance with a small chair inside, a table, and a stack of sheets with all the names of the students in that department and a couple of young adults dressed as elves who had to mate at their leisure couples who according to them should know each other and make each other wish person had written in that little sheet of Christmas requests.

"Y/n stop getting paranoid for nothing, you just have to write in the note 4 wishes or things that you would like to do with this hypothetical person during December, i recommend you also add your ig ame or your number, but maybe it’s better your name ig and in a week we will find out if this person will write to you because meanwhile i already know that even if they sent the letter of the other guy you would never write"

"Why should i ever choose the male option, you know that i'm shy, especially with males i would like to make friends first, of course, i have you and Sunaa but i would love" Do not stop talking that a boy dressed as elf called you to enter the house.

"Y/n in the option you choose that the letter receives a guy, you can start making friends even of the opposite sex" your best screamed and made the sign of two thumbs up and started waiting for you outside the long line.

The house was decorated with Christmas stuff and light music coming from the speakers with a shy smile you greeted the two boys and the girl put the sheet, of Christmas paper covered with little snowflakes, and at the top, you could circle 2 options send this sheet to a boy or a girl and felt your heart beat too fast for your taste but maybe your best friend was right and you had to leave a little bit from your comfort zone and start doing "friendship" with some guy so you chose the option that the letter could receive only one guy. In the center you had to write 4 things that you wanted to do at that time with that person and then write because you chose to participate, you wrote all your requests and finally, you wrote your full name, your email, and in the contact section your instagram name and if you were part of some club so the person receiving the letter had some options on how they could look for you, and you wrote that you were in the radio club of the economics and mathematics department.

Inside the radio booth, you looked at the big windows that looked out on the big football field, there were a lot of people taking pictures or running and throwing snowballs, you would have wanted to be out there too but you had to spend another half hour in the heat and look at the schedule but when you saw that you had to announce that within a few minutes, everyone would be acquainted with who would make a couple slight anxiety your body.

You didn’t talk a lot on the radio because you hated how your voice sounded but at that hour you were alone because almost all the other students who were part of the club had class so you pressed the green button and when the song ended you took the long microphone and spoke to all students.

"Good morning to all the students of the Department of Economics and Mathematics, how are you? Don’t tell me you forgot what day it is because in exactly 55 seconds you will find out who you were paired with for the project put into place "Spend your Christmas holidays with a new friend", now to break the ice a little and not to make you feel how anxious or shy to write to your future partner i play one of the most beautiful Christmas songs as well as Last Christmas by George Michael."

You pressed the red button and leaned on the swivel chair and a long breath came out of your lips but your anxiety became even greater when you saw in the WhatsApp group that everyone had received the email, you didn’t dare to open it but you were too curious to know that you wanted the guy you had been "paired" with so when you read the first point you looked at your phone with an interrogative look, what it meant that the boy who had written the requests wanted to have for his Christmas holidays a fake girlfriend because he was tired of hearing his family say that he was a fratboy and that in 22 years he had never brought with him a girl only because they did they think he was not capable of a serious relationship?

You slammed the boy’s profile and your mouth opened slightly in astonishment when you saw to whom that profile belonged, it was simply a bad joke of fate, it couldn’t be true that you were acclimated to Jake Sim and one of the most popular guys on campus and in your department. With what sense they thought to pair you with one of the most shy, sweet girls, with all the votes awarded to a frat boy who had taken the scholarship only for his football skills, every time you saw him with his group of friends he always had some different girl. To your bad luck, he read your wish request and you did not know if it was him that loser to ask people disguised as an elf to find them a fake girl with whom to spend the Christmas holidays or if you were the loser who attended and wrote that you wanted to give your first kiss under the snow or walk with a stranger in the Christmas markets.

You, your best friend and Sunaa were going out in front of the sports field to see live the multiple snowmen and some had strange shapes of animals instead of others had even jerseys of the football team of the university, you loved to see how all the people thanks to little ice flakes all became slightly more good and romantic with everyone, you leaned down for a moment to take pictures so that you could post them on the radio profile but after a few seconds, you heard a snowball hit your head and slightly annoyed and surprised you saw that it had been thrown by one of the two guys who were just steps away from you.

One of the two was slightly taller than the other guy and besides being dressed as a Michelin man for the too-cold he also had a black balaclava that covered almost all his face apart from some dark hair tufts that came out you could not understand who was but instead the boy with white jacket slightly untied on the neck, with the softest hair you ever saw and that little smile he had thanks to his lips slightly fat but cracked from the cold you knew who they belonged to, Jake Sim as well as the guy who received your letter and you his written in 4 points that he was looking for a fake girlfriend and that would make it possible any wish had expressed his "companion" if she had spent the holidays with him in the mountains and his family. You looked where your friends had gone and were slightly away from you but you tried in every way to reach them accelerating the pace but with the white icy cover you had to be careful not to fall. You felt your name shouting slightly and you knew who belonged to that voice even though you had hardly ever spoken to him in person, You wanted to be teleported across the city or invisible to his eyes but when you saw him in front of you you understood why most of the girls they had a crush on him and why they would all want to go out with him.

"Hey, you’re Y/n, right? The girl who works at the university radio station and publishes every week in the blog and profile of the university the ranking with the most beautiful songs of the week, every week i can’t wait to read the chart and i can say that you have great taste in music because we have a lot of songs in the playlist in common" Did you look slightly surprised Jake, how he could be so expansive and not embarrassed to have to talk to a stranger?

"Um, yes i'm Y/n, i’m glad you like the songs that i suggest to make people listen to" You bowed slightly and tried to leave but he was faster than you and put himself in front of your body not to let him escape from it but also the wind blew a little too much and wanted not to see you with all the snow in your face.

"Sorry i threw that ball at you, i didn’t know you were the girl they’d put me in a relationship with or i would have looked for you on the radio" was the dumbest lie he’d come up with in months, Knew who you were too well but didn’t know how to come and talk to you without looking like a loser.

"Anyway in your Christmas wishlist it was written that you wanted to be kissed under the snow, can i kiss you y/n? So we can already tick off your list!"

You looked at yourself with a slightly surprised look Jake, how you should have kissed a stranger, and with what bluntness asked you, you knew that Jake was very famous with the girls but you did not think he had a big ego.

"Thank you for the offer Jake but i don’t kiss a stranger without even knowing him and if i have to be honest i would like to kiss a guy that i like both characteristics and not only physically"

"So you’re telling me that you find me attractive? I would do anything to have you in front of my family during the Christmas holidays."

You immediately raised your eyes when you felt that pet name, god was the essence of the classic alpha sports boy with 0 interests apart from football and himself.

"Jake? That’s your name, right? Maybe those disguised elves have made a mistake to match us, you and I have nothing in common and perhaps it is better to change the request and ask if we give 2 different partners to do this "project". You and me are part of two different worlds and honestly, i would not even trust to spend the Christmas holidays with a stranger, i would come in person to tell you at the training that you have in a few" Jake felt slightly sick at Y/n’s words, he knew it was a strange request but 99% of the girls would say yes to spending 5 days in a luxury hotel in the middle of the mountains with him and his family but not the girl in front of him.

"We can start again if i made a bad impression with my "clown" ways but i try in every way to make people feel comfortable with my jokes or with my slightly playful character, i’m Jake and i know you might have preferred to be in a couple i don’t know with Sunghoon who is much more shy and confident than if but if those two elves put "couple" they will think that maybe we are perfect for this mission"

Or maybe you had paid that evil elf Niki to put you in a pair with the girl with wavy hair covered with light snowflakes, but no one would have found out, right?

You saw Jake bend over the snow and a puppy look looked at you for endless seconds until i took his hands with yours and made him stand from that surreal moment, god you just wanted to know someone to be more sociable and less shy but you would never have expected to make "couple" with Jake.

"I’m not sure, you and i don't know each other at all, and, repeat i do not trust so much even myself so think if i could come on holiday with you and pretend to be together, it would be impossible they would discover Jake immediately."

"Exactly five days to 24 December the day of departure, on your list it says you’d like to make cookies with the elven boy so i could come to your house tomorrow after practice and try to make those sugar loaf cookies and we could get to know each other better,i read that you are shy with guys so with me you may have already checked something off your list, i could make you less tense and shy with guys while we’re almost all the same. What do you say?"

The wheels in your brain were processing all the proposals that Jake was telling you, what could be wrong? You just have to make some cookies together and spend an hour together in your shared apartment with your friends, you certainly wouldn’t be all alone and maybe Jake was right being with him you would defeat your social anxiety by being in contact with a guy.

"Okay, it might not be a bad idea to make cookies with you, and at the same time we could get to know each other, but if i don’t feel comfortable you’ll have to find someone else to spend your holidays with on the mountains."

You felt Jake’s strong arms hold you for a few seconds around his body and a slight hint of vanilla and honey invaded you, you were petrified because you did not love physical contact with people so you gave two small blows on the back of the Australian boy and when he detached from you the smiles.

"Send me the address of your apartment, i’ll leave training for 17 so by that time i should be able to come to you"

Anuists and you saw him running inside the gym, in what trouble had you got?

The whole apartment was lit by a flared light coming from the kitchen and in the background you had put a Christmas playlist, when your friends had discovered that the guy with whom you were paired was Jake had flipped out like fans at a concert. They had also thought about how many days you would kiss and how long you would fall in love with him, but this was not at all on your list of goals and to your bad luck they left you alone because you had to deal with your "anxiety" To be in contact with a boy of the opposite sex. You were encouraged to accept Jake’s offer to spend five days in a luxury hotel with him but before you accepted you had to be sure that he didn’t have any weird feelings, that he wasn’t a serial killer, and that you felt comfortable with him, You had definitely stalked him on social media and asked around about him and everyone gave the same answer.

Jake emanated 100% the vibes of golden retriever boy and by the way he also has one and is a female named Layla, loves football and to your great surprise he had not won any sports scholarship but managed to get into university and the football team thanks to his good grades and brilliant football talent, You thought he didn’t care about studying but never judge a book by the cover because he was seriously a nerd if you talked about math but especially physics, he could speak two languages perfectly and had a lot of friends.

It all seemed too perfect, how did he not have any reservations to the eyes of other people? or maybe you had to know what secrets were hidden under that facade of good boy and if maybe it was seriously all true what people said about him?

You heard the bell ring and when you opened the door a Jake with slightly damp hair and scrunched smiled at you from the door, he was wearing glasses that made him too attractive for your taste and when he took off his jacket he had a sweatshirt that perfectly wrapped his body and a gray pants suit slightly over.

"Hey, i got you some Christmas Edition sugar decorations to put on top of your freshly baked cookies. Cabbage has been snowing for 10 days that keeps snowing i seriously need to go back to Australia in the heat if it still snows and tumi in the pool or at the beach" he winked at you and came into your house as if he had already come a million times.

"Where in Australia are you from? My roommate comes from the Golden Coast and every time she shows us the pictures we fantasize about going there one day".

"I was born in Korea but i lived a lot of years in Brisbane and it’s like my second home, one day i’ll take you there if you want it"

In what way did he want to bring it to Australia? But what problems did this boy have, first he asked you to go to the mountains with him and be his fake girlfriend and then he pretended to go with him to Australia.

"I understand why you’re a heart-stealer Jake, you fool i don’t know how many girls with your impossible promises, maybe this is one of your red flags. You know i asked around about you and everyone told me that you are a golden boy, full of friends, a scholar and who loves sports, nobody has ever spoken badly to me about you, how is this possible?

You saw Jake getting too close for your taste and he trapped you without realizing it in the space near the sink, his dark eyes were studying you and a grin formed on his lips.

"Don’t tell me that the sweet and shy Y/n tried to find out something shady about me only because you can not admit that in this world there may still exist "normal" guys with passions, scholars, full of friends. As long as you try to find out something about me by asking others you will only waste time because i have nothing to hide, i thought you were smarter, if you want to find out something about me the only way is to spend time together!" He winked at you again and started pouring all the ingredients for the cookies into the big bowl, you were slightly irritated by his presence and didn’t understand how they had chosen to pair you with such a guy.

When you put the cookies in the oven a slight sense of embarrassment crept into the room, you leaned on the couch that you had in common and Jake finally put himself at a suitable distance where you could not always feel your heart go fast.

"Excuse me for earlier perhaps i was slightly mean to you and did not want to be at all, In fact, i never behaved like this with anyone just literally took me to the waster with this request to be your fake girlfriend during the Christmas holidays with your family. I would like to be the most honest with you, maybe this is too much for me also because i have 0 experience with guys and see how i behaved with you so think if I ever find myself alone with you and your family pretending to be something."

Jake was surprised by how much you had talked in those 2 minutes of pure embarrassment between you and him, He didn’t think at all that you had ever done anything with any guy because you were really beautiful and he couldn’t do it but these thoughts could make them in another moment now he had to make you understand that you were perfect to be his "fake girl" for those few days and then who knows maybe to be his girlfriend?

Jake approached slightly to Y/n and watched her get farther away from him but the couch was not so long so she stopped and Jake was a few inches away.

"You don’t have to be ashamed of not having any experience with someone, maybe you should just be more yourself with people and let them know what you like or don’t like and I would like to have this chance Y/n"

Jake was the exact opposite of you and you knew that this for him was only "fiction" and he did so only because he wanted at all costs to have someone to take on vacation with him but maybe thanks to him you could defeat that shy part of yourself?

"I don’t know how to explain it but with you, I feel slightly at ease. Maybe it’s because everyone talks about you and you are very talkative with everyone and you try in all ways to make people feel good..." you did not dare to look him in the face because he already had a big ego and with these statements of yours would be even smugger, a small smile made its way through Jake’s lips and he put more comfortable on the sofa.

"Uh, the shy girl who’s afraid to date a guy is seriously telling me that maybe the only one not making her feel uncomfortable?"

gave you a little push on your shoulder and gave you a slight

"Oh my God, i can’t believe you smiled at me, today i have to write in the calendar that Y/n made me a real smile and you laughed at one of my bad jokes."

"Jake seriously stop i gave you a compliment not to expect more this evening and not in the next days"

"In what sense in the next days Y/n? Don’t tell me that my charm has already enchanted you and that you can’t wait to spend time with me in the mountains together like two lovebirds?"

"I haven’t decided yet if i should go with you or not, but i repeat i don’t feel so uncomfortable being with you but being your fake girlfriend. If i should come i should always be next to you and of course, we should kiss, embrace, share the bed, touch each other in front of your family, shake hands when we are together and

Jake had not seriously thought about this point when he wrote that strange request to have a fake girlfriend for his Christmas days in the mountains, but today’s relationships were how physical and he had a serious problem and loved to hug everyone and if he was engaged would not leave even a second his girlfriend alone without putting his hand somewhere and to make everyone understand that it was his and of no other.

Jake took your hands and looked at you smiling "Calm down y/n, all these things you would have done at least once in your life except kiss someone but that won’t be a problem. On your list it says you’d like to be kissed under the snow, right? If you come i’ll kiss you under the snow but first we have to figure out if you’d touch it you wouldn’t mind, i love hugging people and being pampered so now we could do some kind of test, what do you say?"

Why did Jake behave like this? You couldn’t stand it because he looked like the perfect guy that everyone knew, i nodded my head but Jake looked at you asking

"Sweetheart you don’t have to be shy with me, use words and tell me if i can hug you?" When you heard that nickname you looked up and said yes And how yesterday a hint of vanilla and laundry invaded all and felt the big hands of Jake in your hips and some locks did you a light sunny when you felt the head of Jake leaning on your neck "You smell good, Sweetheart" little chills creep in and you clench your arms around her back a bit more "you also know how good Jake but stop calling me Sweetheart is embarrassing!" , after a while Jake broke away from you and to your great surprise you felt that you already missed his weak touch in your body but this feeling lasted little when he made you lie down and lean on a big cushion in the sofa and he put himself next to you, but for your bad luck or luck the sofa was not very big so it was attached to you and you looked at him slightly embarrassed but you trusted him even if you did not know him so much.

"If you come to the mountains with me i should call you by a nickname or my relatives would get suspicious and then know that i love to hug everyone so Sweetheart suits you, Y/n"

Jake looked at you with his face tilted and wanted to tell you the truth but no one would know that he had wanted you as "companion" of this project and it was not those elves or fate to put you with him

"Surely i would have read some romance books and there is the trope Grumpy x Sunshine and we represent it but i know that under that shyness there is a girl who knows how to have fun, full of hobbies and who loves her friends so do not make any problems with me"

Jake came even closer to your face and you looked at his lips but you knew he would not kiss you because if you wanted to have his kiss you had to go to the mountains with him but felt his fleshy lips give you a light kiss in the forehead and like an oven screamed and Jake got up from the couch and signaled you to follow him into the kitchen.

Christmas vacation

December 24th had arrived too early and you were not at all ready to spend almost 5 days with Jake, you had texted him every day and he even accompanied you to buy a ski suit, you found out he could ski and snowboard but you preferred skating but to make him happy you promised that you would go skiing with him. You even bought him a present, In his list it was written that he would love to spend hours building lego and he loved to collect soccer jerseys especially if they were vintage so you gave him a set of legos and a football jersey from Manchester United vintage.

He wrote you that he would pick you up and that it was close to your apartment so you went out and your roommates gave you their blessings and were super happy to see you less shy especially if that guy you were going with on vacation was Jake Sim, a modern SUV stopped in front of you and Jak when he got out of the car always had those glasses that gave him an air of fake nerd, the classic jacket Prada but in the black version and jeans washed that tied his legs.

She bowed to your roommates and when she saw you smiled at you gave you a light kiss on the cheek and signaled you to get in the car.

What have you gotten yourself into? Until 10 days ago you had hardly ever talked to him except for the times he came on the radio to talk about the games and now you found yourself in the car with him going to spend your holidays in a luxury hotel like his supposed girlfriend, But the problem was that you were his fake girlfriend, not his real girlfriend and a little sense of jealousy and anxiety got in your thoughts.

You watched Jake drive carefully, and he was really attractive. With his big venous hands, he turned the car’s baluster very easily, and you could always hear him singing any song you put on the radio. A slight smile crept into your lips, and Jake looked at you curious. "Why are you smiling? Don't tell me that my presence makes you happy because you will have to bear with me for almost five days."

"I laugh because any song i put you are a piece or whistle it as if i knew by heart is not that you stalked me the Spotify account? how does a guy like all a little frat boy of the university know Smooth Operator and the discography of Sade or know some songs of Frank Ocean"

"Sweetheart what i told you when we first met at the football field that i wait every week for your music chart and every time thanks to you, i download new songs, i like the songs that you listen to and suggest because they are all of the different genres" smiles and Jake continued to focus on the snowy road, had passed almost two hours and the destination was getting closer and closer, You pulled your hands into the sleeves of your sweater so that Jake wouldn’t see that you were agitated and wanted to bite your nails but like a hawk, Jake watched every move you made and knew you were slightly agitating when you no longer sang with him.

"Hey everything will be fine, you just be yourself as you were for these days when we went out, for it will already be a shock to see me with a girl that will leave us a lot of time together and i promise you that i will never leave you alone with my aunt chatterbox" When you got out of the car in front of you there was a huge hotel in wooden style decorated with lots of lights and the air of the mountain and the fireplaces made you forget what situation you had gotten into, you heard a dog bark and Jake ran immediately to hug his little dog, Layla.

You watched his family come against Jake and when their eyes moved from the tender scene of Jake with his dog to you, a redheaded girl gave out a slight cry and Jake’s mom gave you a big smile

"Oh my god after 22 years maybe our Jackie has put his head on and brought us his girlfriend" the girl with red hair who was her cousin approached you and embraced you warmly.

Why did everyone in this family love hugs so much?

<<Why didn’t you tell us that you were bringing your girlfriend? we would have arranged differently and proposed to do things of girls like going to the Spa or relax in the pool>> Jake’s mother looked at you attentively and Jake put an arm around your side and carried you warmly near itself.

"I didn’t tell you because i wanted to surprise you and then these things i would do with Y/n, in Seoul we haven’t yet had the chance to spend a lot of time together with lessons, radio club and my football training"

the two women embraced you and let you into the hotel to meet the whole family were all nice, cute, warm and funny with you and you absolutely wanted to pretend and tell lies all the time but was this the purpose of this trip right? Show the loving side of Jake with a girl and pretend he was not a womanizer in the eyes of his family and then back to Seoul you would come back as strangers like before...

When you entered the room with Jake a slight whistle came out of your lips when you saw the landscape of the snowy mountains in front of you and in the ridges there was a light pink sky, you felt your heart beat madly from how beautiful that moment was. Before i went in i didn’t really notice the room to see the scenery but you and Jake were both looking at each other when you saw that there was only a double bed and an exposed bathroom, but Jake showed you that the glass would go dark so you could have your privacy. The dinner with his relatives passed quickly and went all smooth, at 23:55 you were all outside the hotel with candles in hand to wait for the crack of midnight and to wish you all together, Your family was on the other side of the world so you could wish them well after 8 hours because of jet-lag, Jake’s warm hands were making little circles inside his pocket and smiled when he saw you laughing with his cousin, would not have asked for better in that letter for the university’s Christmas project.

At midnight everyone started singing Christmas carols and wishing each other a happy birthday under the snow and gave that even more romantic touch to the sound of the bells coming from the church on top of the mountain.

"Come I’ll show you a thing y/n" You followed Jake and in front of you there was a tree drawn on the snow made of wood and full of Christmas lights, you watched Jake smile at you and pulled out his tongue to eat some snowflakes, He nodded and laughed at how icy the snow was in the palate of his tongue. You tried it and laughed because of the funny face you made for the cold contact "I never thought to celebrate a Christmas in the mountains in Korea especially with you Jake" saw that he approached you and felt the hand slightly warm in contact with your face and little brvidi invades you, your mind thought they were perceived by the cold but your heart knew that those chills had been perceived by the touch of Jake, you looked at your lips a few centimerti from your mouth and thought that finally he would kiss you but he pushed you slightly and you fell embraced over the snow cover and Jake started to laugh because it was above you and if someone saw you so he would immediately Thought wrong but also because you had a questioning and red look from embarrassment, At this point Jake knew you wanted his lips in contact with hers so he smashed his slightly cracked lips into yours and started a slow kiss dance,he caressed your cheek and you without thinking took the hood from its thick hair and pulled him close to you and when you opened her lips let in his tongue and a light moan came out of your lips, had seriously fulfilled your desire number 1 in the list but you did not know that that kiss had triggered in you numerous butterflies in the stomach and your heart beat very strong when finished the kiss gave you a light kiss in the forehead and lay down near you and began Laughing like children when you saw your snow angels of your shapes to how strange but both you and Jake photographed those angels. Who knows maybe thanks to a letter written with a thousand anxiety two people so different but so close in time would fall in love

❄️ I hope you like it❄️

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 & sexy clothes

Gaz absolutely supports you wearing whatever you feel sexy in. however, in his heart of hearts, he believes the sexiest thing you can wear around him is your pjs, your ratty old tees, your sleep shirts, your big hoodies, your slouchy garbage clothes. he just wants to know you're comfortable. not to mention the idea of you letting him see you the way nobody else gets to... letting yourself be totally vulnerable around him... that lights up a certain (slightly needy) (slightly possessive) part of his brain. interesting how easily his hands can slide past the hem of your clothes when they're bigger and slouchier, too.

Ghost loves lingerie, though. like wrapping a present just for him. it's less about the lace (or the bows, or the straps, or the leather, whatever you prefer) and more about the time and attention you're expending to make yourself look all sexy. all this work? for him? even if his usual compulsion is to act aloof and pretend it's no big deal, he can't hide the greedy way his eyes devour you--for me? don't mind if i do. it's a toss-up whether he decides to unwrap you completely or just push his calloused hands into your lil outfit and muss you up until it's not covering anything anymore. or maybe he'll just leave the wrapping on so he can keep admiring all your hard work while he pumps into you.

Price says he loves you in lingerie, and he does. he doesn't tell you how fucking crazy you drive him when you're dressed for business. that might mean the clothes you wear into the office every day; it might mean fatigues; it might mean a particular uniform; it might be sportswear. he's big into seeing you focused and in your element--your competence is sexy--while also knowing there are so few layers he'd need to peel off before he could have you completely forgetting yourself if he wanted. and hey! if the lace at the top of your thigh-highs happens to be peeking out from under your pencil skirt, or if your ass fills out your uniform just right? that's just fine with him. you do you. (for now. he'll do you later.)

Soap's preferences are simple. he likes access. skirts. dresses. obviously, if he could convince you to be naked 100% of the time, he would. sundresses are pretty, though. so are your studded black skirts if you're gothy. or your sharp, practical, form-fitting pencil skirts if you're professional. you can even wear a kilt if you'd like. his kilt. he doesn't mind. (he only asks that you wear it as it's meant to be worn--without a thing underneath.) on days you do wear a dress or skirt, you're lucky to make it out of the house without him darting after you, pulling the hem up your thighs, and wondering aloud how you managed to find any undergarments at all; he'd swear he hid every last pair. he peels your underwear off--don't protest, hen; you know how this works--and after that, your chances of getting out the door are slim to none.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[revelboo]

Maam, I hate and love you so much right now...

Your stories are wonderfully writen and I want to eat them, this is the second time I'm maybe falling in the tf fandom and this time you managed to grab me by the ankles and drag me in

Also hate you so much cos you produced in me the need to get blokees and I'm not finding any that ship to where I live without it being overpriced... (I've seen you mention getting them in aliexpress and there they do send, I just had a couple bad experiences there, but probably I'll end up caving and buying there)

All this said, back to lurking and reading everything you've posted so far xdd

I’ve had stuff ship, get to the states then just get kicked back to China as undeliverable once, but mostly, I’ve not had problems.

The tiny army grows

Give It Up Pt 6

Megatronus Prime x Reader

• Rumbling softly as your little shoulders lift and fall, he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that you can’t help him with figuring out what chemical compounds are safe for you to consume. You’re organic, so must eat organic matter, but without a better idea, he’s likely to accidentally poison you. And he’s not missed that you’re getting less talkative, that you’re breathing is louder. Slower. “I think I’m out,” you say suddenly and he looks up from his datapad researching known organics and their diets. Trying to find anything relating to your species, but you seem to be undiscovered.

• Everything feels strangely warm and fluid, like you’re underwater. The rational part of your brain whispering that something’s wrong. That you’re poisoning yourself, because your life support hasn’t stopped warning you that your tank is depleted. Sluggishly fumbling with the seals of your helmet, you wonder if you’re going to suffocate either way. “What do you breathe?” He asks, hands reaching and those blue optics are concerned as you tear your helmet off and suck in a breath. And another. How? How is there breathable air? It’s not the same as Earth, feels weirdly thick in your lungs, but you’re not dying. It’s weird. Too odd a coincidence, but you aren’t about to curl your lip at a gift. Hear him make a noise and look up as his optics narrow.

• Grimacing behind his mask as you suck in deep breaths, he swallows a growl. “I’m going to choose to believe you knew you could breathe the atmosphere before you did that,” he says and your face tips up. And he’s frozen, startled by your oddly, almost Cybertronian features. Organic and alien, but familiar as you smile. Baring little teeth and he knows some organics do that as a threat or when they’re stressed, but you look like you’re actually smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

• “I had no idea,” you admit and he makes a low, rumbling growl of noise, a massive hand lifting to press against his mask. It’s not like you aren’t fully aware how stupid that was, but you were suffocating anyway. If you hadn’t gambled, would you have just gotten tired and sat down? Gone to sleep and just not woken up? You’re not sure and you weren’t eager to find out. “It’s fine, though.”

• Staring as you sit cross legged and start peeling back the upper layer of your suit to reveal a much thinner garment underneath, you reach up to rake your fingers through your hair to fluff it up and he has the sudden urge to touch it, seeing the strands float slightly in a messy halo around your head. It looks soft. “Going forward, please don’t ingest anything you’re not certain of, little one.” Isn’t sure his spark can take it, because how can he protect you if you endanger yourself taking risks? And you smile again, like you’re amused that he cares. But you’re tiny, this fragile, unexpected organic he can cup in a single hand in a world not at all meant for someone so small. Painfully aware of all the things that can happen to you.

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