#i have been Distracted reading/iconing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thexsilentxwordsmith · 7 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, masterbation, send nudes, quick mention of breeding

Sequel to: Think of Me When You Cum Later

Almost an entire day passed without a word from you. Smug as he could fucking be, Simon was certain that it had everything to do with his little impromptu video he sent keeping your hands far to busy to type and God did that fuel him with a new secret passion; perhaps he’d have to send you another before he got back, just to be sure that you were a complete goddamn mess for him when you came to pick him up from base.

If he was really lucky and did his job right you’d have to pull over on the ride home just so he could fuck your brains out in the back seat of your car, so needy you wouldn’t be able to wait the short ride back to his place. You’d both have those window panes fogged up real fucking quick.

But there was one thing the self-assured military man forgot about and that was that you were never one to let him go empty handed. The moment Simon had sent his bit of personal porn for your enjoyment, he should have known that you would not want him to miss out on something special for himself; he needed to see with his own two eyes just how much you needed him. And since he had only made that ache worse for you, he had to have a bit of it back.

It was only fair after all.

So eventually once you were able to clear your head and calm your raging heartbeat, you got to work plotting. It had to be a cinematic masterpiece, something so good that he would definitely have to save for private viewings over and over again whenever he was away; you never did anything half-assed and since it was for him it had to be perfect.

The day had been uneventful and that gave ample time for Simon’s devious mind to wander back to you, wondering how many times you’d viewed that spicy clip and how absolutely soaked your panties were from it. Something about the silence from his phone only led him to fantasize about you being nothing more than a puddle in the middle of his bed, legs shaking from how many times you’d cum.

God, to be a fly on the wall he would have given anything.

BZZ…BZZ…

As if prompted by his thoughts alone, his phone buzzed to life as he sat in his bunk wiling away the hours until sleep finally decided to take over. He pulled small rectangle out of his bag that lay beside his bed with a cocky grin plastered to his lips, ready to read the long string of texts about how his distraction was more than satisfactory. The older phone that Simon liked to take into the field didn’t allow him to preview messages before he opened them, so he had no idea what awaited inside until he clicked the icon; his jaw nearly hit the floor and he had to immediately look around him to make sure that there was no one skulking about that could possibly catch a glimpse of his screen.

This was for him and him alone.

It was a picture… not what he was expecting, but he should have known better after his little stunt that you were bound to do something like this. The message directly underneath it read: “Shit, baby, I can’t seem to stop watching your video. Look what you’re doing to me.”

Nearly choking on his saliva, his heart stopped and forcefully restarted in his chest at the glory of image before his eyes. Goddamn he could not pull his sight away; you had to have gone to a lot of trouble to set this all up, but fuck was it worth it just so that he could see you like this.

There you were spread eagle across his bed, completely naked save for the singular hair tie dangling from your wrist that had become a staple of your everyday attire. Your hand was precisely placed between your thighs, fingers clearly buried in that juicy cunt of yours. Head fallen back, presumably eyes shut tight, tits up with your nipples hard, goddamn you were the prettiest fucking picture he had ever fucking seen.

He was falling head over heels all over again.

The pressure of his cock straining harshly against the zipper of his pants became incredibly painful all of a sudden and he rushed to undo the restraining fabric in a hurry; such a visceral effect that you always seemed to produce in him no matter how many times he saw you bare. Pulling the waistband open he lay there with nothing but his boxers to keep him covered.

It had been a long minute since your body was available for his viewing pleasure and he sucked every last drop of that photo down, transfixed as if he had been put under hypnosis. Eyes scanning every inch of that tiny picture glaring back at him through the darkness, the ache in his chest grew as did the heat so that even though his shirt was off he was still boiling to the touch; fuck he needed you so bad it was agony. There was no lie when Simon had said he was desperate to make you cum, he would give anything to feel you writhe beneath him right now, body burning as he put all his focus into making you slip over the edge as many times as humanly possibly.

Whatever he had to do, whatever sin he had to commit that would get him to you fast enough, he would in an instant just to ride straight to hell between those luscious thighs.

Satisfying your temptation was worth the damnation.

How much time had passed since he become consumed by your image he didn’t know, but now there was something on his phone that was beginning to download. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as he waited on baited breath, barely moving a muscle in anticipation for whatever it was you had sent him. Auburn eyes were boring holes into his phone as he watched that slow fucking progress bar inch its way forward at a turtles pace; Christ, it was going to make him drop dead from the excited expectation of what was to come once it was done.

BZZ... BZZ…

Finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, the damned thing was finished and ready for him. A video was what waited for his viewing pleasure, slightly longer than the one he had sent the night before. With shaky, unsteady hands Simon dived head first for his headphones in his bag without a second thought, nearly ripping the canvas apart trying to pry them out as fast as his hands would allow. Shoving the buds into his ears as his pulse raced through his veins, he pushed play...

And his blood pressure shot through the goddamn roof.

“Ahh, Simon…” your breathy moan hit his ears first and his brain flat-lined as he nearly came just from just the sound of your sweet tone calling out his name. How long had it been since he had heard you mewling his name in the throws of passion? So damn long it should have been a crime.

The way you had the camera set up he could see it all, the perfect goddamn angle as if he were sitting in the room with you, watching as you touched yourself. Why the ever loving fuck could he not reach through the screen and get to you? That was the worst part of it all; he desperately needed to be the one to make you produce all those pretty sounds.

“Fuck, Simon, I miss you so much,” you continued, your body jerking as your fingers continued to dance around your clit, your toes curling around the sheets. “I’ve been so empty it hurts… need you to fill me full again baby. Reach that ache deep inside that I can’t seem to get. It’s only getting worse without you.”

Simon’s cock throbbed forcefully, pressing harshly against his lower abdomen as the video continued to play; it felt as if he might burst just from the sudden rush of blood to that beastly appendage. Swallowing down a stray groan that threatened to escape his lips and give him away, he nearly gagged on it just to keep it down, but fuck did he want to let loose. He was being consumed by his desire: skin on fire, eyes transfixed on your gorgeous rocking form, mouth agape as he breathed heavy, he took a hold of his engorged member and pulled it free from his boxers before he began to stroke the length; there was no way he could sit here and watch you like this without touching himself.

Back on the screen, your legs were jerking sporadically as you pictured Simon there with you, pumping in and out of you with all that he had. “Need your fat fucking cock to stretch me out good,” you whimpered pathetically, using all that pent up frustration to aid in your performance; it was torment. “Oh God baby, I need it so bad…can’t take it.”

Fuck it hurt to hear your need and not be able to do a damned thing about it right then and there. He swore to himself that by the time he finally got his hand around those curves he was gonna fill you so full that your pussy wouldn't know what to do without him inside you.

Simon hissed under his breath as his grip tightened around his dripping, aching cock, rapid strokes gaining speed so as to perfectly match your rhythm just so that he could trick his brain into imagining himself pumping in and out of your tight, wet cunt. It paled in comparison to the real thing because there was no replicating how you felt wrapped around him, but it would do for now. Together you both worked yourselves on opposite sides of the screen, just trying your hardest to ease the torturous longing.…as if fucking each other across the space between you.

You were completely losing yourself in the moment, unable to hold back all those needs that had been put aside as he was gone. The image of Simon touching himself to the thought of you, his words sounding so desperate, played over in your mind as you worked yourself and you could not stop the way it made you feel, the yearning need for him to completely and utterly wreck your body to the point that even the idea of being with anyone else would never be able to come close to what he could give.

“Shit Simon, I want…

I want…" you had to say it, it was gonna come out anyway…

"I want you to breed me,” you said stammered out the plea as your free hand massaged over your breasts. That warmth was building, rising in the pit of your stomach as you said those forbidden words aloud. “I need you to breed me good Simon, make sure I’m ruined for anyone else. Oh God, please, baby. I need it, I need you.”

Christ that was his fucking kryptonite, his Achilles heel, the one thing is the whole wide world that could stop him dead in his tracks and bring him to his proverbial knees. The minute those delicious words exited your mouth, there was no stopping his ecstasy from overwhelming him to the point that he could he was gone.

Oh he was gonna make sure that sweet little cunt had his name written all fucking over it.

Nope that was it, what little straggling bit of sanity he had left had flown and he could not hold back the pressure any longer from reaching its peak and violently throwing him off the ledge. With a strenuous grunt that echoed in his chest and a few hard tuggs up and down his shaft he came with such force that his body shook his entire cot as he stroked out every last bit of milky white fluid from the tip. His cum coating his lower abdomen, getting caught in the sparse bit of hair the covered the area was making a mess, but he didn’t care; the euphoria currently surging through his veins like electricity clouded any negative thoughts.

The sound of your orgasm your mewls as your rocketed through you played into his ears, the perfect soundtrack to finish out the rest of his own pleasure. You fell back against the mattress, chest heaving with exhausted breaths as your legs shook and relaxed stretched out as the video finished.

Fuck, he was gonna need a cigarette after that, his body still vibrating with the sheer intensity of it all.

BZZ…BZZ…

The phone vibrated one last time, a final text to send him off into the night.

“I hope it was just as good for you as it was for me,” it said, followed by a sneaky winky face. “Sleep tight.”

If he thought he was missing you before, but that was nothing compared to now. It was overwhelming the need he had to have you making those sounds for him again. You had better be ready to getting the car cleaned and detailed because there was no way you weren’t going to be pinned down in the back seat after that one…because you had just made that ache so much worse.

Part 3:

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simin ghost riley #simon smut #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost #ghost smut

2K notes · View notes

strawberries-and-summer-days · 1 month

Text

DATING PERCY JACKSON HC'S

paring: percy jackson x athena!fem!reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: this is my first time doing hc's so i decided to get it out of the way! (its scary cause like i don't wanna disappoint 😭) so if you have any tips or anything lemme know!!

you and percy are like the it couple of camp

like seriously when you two finally (key word being finally) got together the entire camp was rejoicing that you two idiots finally admitted your feelings

you were the two most oblivious people on the planet (percy mostly)

but now you're together its no longer stealing glances in secret but openly gazing at the other and getting distracted in the middle of sparring *cough* percy *cough*

its stealing kisses in between activities

curling up in bed with stolen snacks from the camp store and books

BOOKS

percy's battle against your love for your book boyfriends is a constant war...

and when he introduced you to sally via iris message sally LOVED you on sight

you basically spent the entire time talking to her trash talking percy

percy who had a scowl on his face the entire time

you guys are iconic

if the campers were asked to think of their fav couple in the modern world they'd instantly think of you two

percy and y/n, y/n and percy, you're a package deal

you're like the mom and dad of camp honestly

whenever you fight (which isn't often) the campers whisper to each other "mommy and daddy are fighting again"

the campers knowing smirks whenever they see you both leaving a cabin flustered and dishevelled after making out do

ABOSLUTELY NOTHING to stop you both

percy offers to bring you home for christmas knowing your history with a non-existent family

you had excitedly thrown yourself into his arms squealing "yes!"

you had been a ball of nerves for the last few days of camp

when percy brought you home for the holidays you were ecstatic

so was he really

percy being the lovesick puppy he is, basically just followed you around where ever you wanted to go

that included nearly all the bookstores in the area.

you had happily strolled through the store and passing percy every book you wanted saying

"omigoshpercy! look at this cover!" and then scurrying over to the next book "i've been wanting this one forever!"

percy has a shit eating grin on his face the entire time

he's just happy you're happy

sally was overjoyed when you arrived whipping you into a flurry of warm hugs and smiles

you'd honestly never felt more at home

one night you and percy are curled up on the couch under a blanket reading a book with percy muttering how he was clearly much better than this dumbass

who both stay that way for a while, percy occasionally placing kisses on your temple.

that is the night you first say i love you.

when you say it out loud percy's eyes widen and he flips around so he's facing you

"I love you."

now you've never felt more at home

percy thinks of you as a literal goddess

he worships the ground you walk on

and when you said i love you, that practically just cements his obsession with you

when sally walked in on you two to offer you some dinner she smiles when she sees you asleep on percy's shoulder, percy mouths

"what?" so he doesn't wake you up.

"you really like her, don't you?"

percy nods staring adoringly at you. "yeah i kinda do."

a/n pt2: i actually had so much fun making these so let me know if you'd ever want more hc's!!

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #pjo #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

480 notes · View notes

matrixbearer2024 · 3 months

Text

Reunited Again Aren't We?

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Lololol I felt bad I left you guys on a cliffhanger in "Troubles Unforeseen" so here's Vox's POV to the whole thing. Bro already has minor panic episodes when you go inactive so let's see how he deals with the fact you're just entirely gone. Oh and this chapter will feature a bit of the iconic radio demon because trolling Vox will never be unfunny to me HAHAHAHA.

A/N: This interlude's gonna be a wild ride, it's also gonna have some lore dumps because of Lucifer lolol. Hence it is fucking LONG- Btw please send me ideas for Vox and Reader now that they've reunited in death. Fluffy, angsty, smutty, doesn't really matter hahaha, I'm still going for the slowburn btw so please keep that in mind XD ANYWAYS- I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always, happy reading!

There was something wrong.

Like, really really wrong.

At least to a certain technology overlord.

Vox just couldn't get rid of the sick feeling he had in his gut.

It had been just a few hours after you said you'd leave for the party.

Knowing that, he tried to just distract himself with his work and hoping the feeling would go away.

Only to find himself counting minutes as nothing seemed to change.

Against his better judgement, he found himself shooting you a quick message.

He was just checking in on you, no harm no foul right?

"Hey doll, how's the party?"

He stared at the phone for a bit, wishing you'd reply and quickly put his paranoia and nerves to rest.

Instead, Vox was quickly reminded that he had a broadcast in a few minutes by his secretary.

Fuck.

He just really couldn't shake that ominous feeling.

Despite that, he put on a charming smile and just went about his business.

Unfortunately, he'd lost track of time after getting swarmed up by work.

So it was only hours later that Vox was able to check back in on you.

And to his dismay, there was still nothing from your end.

You didn't even see his message.

He tries to convince himself that he's just being paranoid.

That there really wasn't anything wrong.

But as he was staring at the screens connected to your gadgets hoping for even just the slightest activity-

The one that showed your phone suddenly fizzled out into static and abhorrently loud white noise.

He recoiled from the loud noise before the panic finally settled in.

Vox had known you for almost two years-

And this hadn't happened once.

The screen where your phone's interface had once been just went back to being one of his typical monitors.

Displaying statistics, graphs, surveillance and whatnot.

The overlord quickly checked if he could still interact with your laptop and tablet and breathed a sigh of relief when he could.

Especially when he could still control that little desktop version he made in his likeness for you.

So, maybe things didn't entirely go to shit.

But still-

What fucking happened?!

He kinda goes off the walls blowing up your notifications or trying to get your attention through the devices he was still tied to.

Which only makes his anxiety worse when there's still no response from you at all.

At this point, it's been a few hours since you've completed dropped off the radar and Vox was just not having a great time.

Were you still at the party or something???

That was of course until a news article appeared as a notification on your laptop.

Vox knew he shouldn't have cared about it much, it was probably just another one of those internet clickbait things anyway.

Especially with the headline.

"Students Injured by Drunk Driver, One Dead"

Who wouldn't think that was an exaggerated story?

But something in the back of his mind demanded that he check it.

It was probably the paranoia filling up with just all the worst possible scenarios.

The overlord just shook his head, he'll check it just to prove to himself you weren't part of it.

Just anything that could tell him that you were okay.

But the second he opened the article to read through it-

Vox immediately felt his stomach drop.

He could immediately identify the bloodied individuals in the headline picture.

It was your group of friends that had gotten caught in that accident.

And it was you who'd gotten killed.

Seeing you bloodied and battered in the outfit you so proudly showed him mere hours ago made him feel downright horrid.

It was like he couldn't even breathe.

No-

No way!

It couldn't be, it was just someone that looked like you!

It had to be!

Was what the overlord tried to tell himself.

But when he scrolled down the page and saw your name written in the article as the one unfortunate death-

Vox knew for certain that he didn't see wrong.

The sick feeling he'd been getting was his instincts giving him a warning.

A warning he didn't heed.

And it costed you.

He sat there in his chair for a minute trying to process it all, especially when the overwhelming guilt finally hit.

Vox wasn't ever one to feel that way, especially in his ruthless line of work.

Not to mention how he generally is a cutthroat businessman who would do anything to get what he wanted.

But when it came to you, he felt immense regret for not having better painted his worry.

That he didn't tell you something felt really off.

It was a new kind of weight at the moment, especially when he was still shell shocked from the blitzkrieg of information.

And even if you still chose to go to the party-

He still could have warned you.

And that was a fact he couldn't let go.

Holding his screen in his hands, Vox just sat there trying to calm himself down.

He definitely couldn't just go back to work like this.

This was bad.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this kind of overwhelming anxiety.

Was that it?

Would he ever see you again?

Or had he lost you for good?

The overlord was about to kind of just let his emotions run it's course until another realization hit him.

It only popped up in his mind when he saw some random surveillance footage of the city on another one of his monitors.

If you were dead-

There was a chance you could be down here.

He highly doubted it given your nature-

But there was still a chance.

He hadn't lost you yet.

So that was how Vox found himself rapidly traveling through wires and cameras all over pentagram city just holding onto a thread of hope that you would be around somewhere.

Velvette had given him an odd look when he just bolted of the Vee tower like his own ass was on fire but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The priority was you.

As he had unfortunately realized over time.

Zapping himself around through some cables, and cameras wasn't hard.

Tiring as he continued to do it but moving around like a shock of electricity was nothing new to the overlord of technology.

The problem now being that Vox had absolutely no idea where to even begin looking.

Pentagram city was huge, there was his tech and products in nearly every corner.

Aside from Alastor's stupid hotel-

And maybe cannibal town-

So it wasn't that difficult for him to get places.

But where would he even start?

It was unlike him to do something in such a sporadic manner.

Appearing here, appearing there-

Just to check, just to see.

He'd completely lost his cool in his panic and tried to picture what you'd look like as a sinner.

If there's one thing Vox had grown to recognize and love about you, it was your bright eyes.

That gaze that always looked at him with either cheer or mischief.

He was certain that wouldn't have changed even if you were launched into heaven or hell.

Problem was that didn't narrow his options at all.

How was he supposed to know how your other physical features would translate once you were down here?

Hell, he had a TV for a head!

The overlord zapped himself out of a nearby CCTV camera with a huff.

He couldn't keep traveling like that unless he wanted to exhaust himself before he'd even searched half of the pride ring.

So he straightened out his bow and brushed off his suit before just walking down the sidewalk and subtly searching that way.

He wasn't phased when some sinners took pictures of him, nor did he have the capacity to even care.

As long as they didn't get in his way, he left them be.

So imagine his surprise at the sense of familiarity he got passing by someone staring at the display TV screens on one of his many stores.

He swears he's never seen the person before, but there was something about their vibe that just hit like a sense of Deja vu.

Looking over at the sinner that seemed to even be amused at one of his broadcast reruns-

He got a good look of your face.

Your gaze really didn't change.

"Huh, so this is what he does down here. Goofy ass TV-"

And that was your voice.

He wouldn't mistake that anywhere.

"(Y/N)?"

You screamed in shock before you turned your equally surprised gaze to him.

When you met his eyes, Vox knew for sure it was you.

"Vox!!!"

You dropped the bag you were holding and immediately tackled him in a hug.

The overlord opened his arms instinctively to catch you, but he was caught off guard by your sudden movement that he ended up falling backwards and landing on his ass with you in his hold.

He couldn't really say anything when you were just rambling on and on into his chest about who knows what.

Vox couldn't even keep track of what you said.

He was just too relieved to still have you around.

It took a brief moment for him to tighten his hug on you, fearing that if he let go you would disappear.

The both of you stayed like that for a good while, until a certain princess Morningstar and her girlfriend found the two of you.

"(Y/N)???"

"(Y/N) get away from him!"

Vox could only compare how fast you whipped your head around to the times he'd caught you doing something silly.

Subconsciously his hold tightened on you as Vaggie approached, how in Lucifer's name did they even know you were here?

"No! I'd been looking for Vox ever since I ended up down here! I know he's not going to hurt me!"

He was more surprised at how quick you were to defend him, especially since-

Wait-

You'd been looking for him ever since you ended up in hell?

He couldn't catch the rest of the conversation you had with Vaggie and Charlie as he was too busy buffering.

By the time he'd finally been able to pay attention again, you were helping him stand back up with a bashful smile.

And that was when his worry finally reared it's ugly head.

"Wh- How the fuck are you even down here?! I told you to be careful and you'd gotten yourself killed?!"

"As if that's my fucking fault! How was I supposed to know I was gonna die that night?!"

The both of you go back and forth for a little while and you slowly calmed Vox down from his emotional rollercoaster.

He only noticed he was shaking slightly when you grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

A smile Vox was scared he'd never even see again.

He felt a little funny with your hand in his, not to mention just how small your palms were against his own.

"I'm okay now, see? You're such a worry wart."

"I could've lost you, why wouldn't I be?"

You just flick his screen with your free hand in response, but Vox didn't miss the slight red that dusted your cheeks accompanying your pout.

It was only then that he was able to get a good look at you.

He wanted to both laugh and scream at the fact you seemed to have taken traits of a doe, ears and all.

It was like Alastor just had to give him a middle finger no matter what he did.

He also noticed your outfit was the same as the one you had died in, which was probably a hint that you hadn't been down here for long.

Plus, you were just...

Short.

Well, you only stood up to his chest so you just seemed small in comparison to him.

A soft cough brought his attention away from you.

Ah.

Right.

"Hey there Mr. Vox! I see you're well acquainted with (Y/N)!"

Vox was about to just shrug off Charlie's greeting and leave with you when he noticed your stern gaze.

Oh fine, he'll play nice.

"You can just call me Vox, princess. No need for the formalities. It's a pleasure meeting you!"

He returned, extending his free hand to shake with his signature grin propped up on his screen.

Charlie just smiled and shook his hand, introducing herself and Vaggie.

Well, he already knew who they were but he played along.

"Oh just call me Charlie and this is Vaggie, we were actually just shopping with (Y/N) before you appeared?"

Huh?

Vox raised an eyebrow at you but you just nonchalantly pointed to the dropped groceries nearby the two of you just sitting on the sidewalk.

So that was what you were holding before you tackled him.

Before he could respond to Charlie however, you beat him to it.

"Saaaaaay why don't you go back to the hotel with us?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean I'd reckon it's not like you have anything else to do if you're out here."

Vox didn't really know how he was supposed to react first.

One, he was done with the day's work so you had him kind of cornered.

It wasn't like he could say no to you anyway-

And two, the hotel-

If Charlie and Vaggie were here with you then he could assume what hotel you were talking about.

And he was absolutely livid because he knew fucking Alastor was there.

Alastor.

And you were staying there?!

Though it seems like you heard his thoughts and poked his screen to snap him out of it.

"Oh and don't worry about Alastor, I've been a pain in his side ever since I came to the hotel. He's just really easy to piss off, kind of like you actually- and it's entertaining to watch."

Vox just gave you an annoyed glare from the comparison to which you shrugged.

Though when he weighed his options, maybe it was for the best that you stayed at the hotel despite his rival being there.

It was probably the safest space in hell at the moment-

Especially with how they were able to drive away the exorcists.

That and...

He wasn't so sure about having you in the same space as Valentino.

The pimp already blew up at him when you were just on his phone-

How much more if you guys were in the same room?

He broke from that train of thought though when you just suddenly started messing with his bow tie.

Tugging and poking, Vox couldn't help but find your behaviors as puzzling as it was cute.

He gaze softened slightly at you before he chuckled.

"Just what do you think you're doing doll?"

"Messing with your tie, what else?"

"Hmm, I can see that. Mind telling me why?"

"Cuz I can? Besides- do you wear this outfit all the time?"

"Only when I'm working, aren't you curious."

"Eh, it's all I've seen you wear so I figured I'd ask. Besides, this is the first time we've physically met."

Vox missed the weird glance Charlie and Vaggie gave the both of you.

Not that he would've noticed anyway when you were busy taking up all his attention.

Eventually, you were able to talk the tech overlord into walking you back to the hotel.

He felt a little weird when you finally let go of his hand to pick up the groceries you'd dropped but he wasn't sure why.

Well, more like you were dragging him along.

Charlie and Vaggie were talking excitedly in the front as he just strolled alongside you.

He wasn't really paying attention to them.

"I don't actually know much about what happened in the accident, just that it was a car crash. Speaking of- how did you know I died?"

"A news article popped up on your computer, I almost thought it was clickbait at first."

"Huh, well at least I ended up on the news!"

You both fell seamlessly into conversation all the way on your walk.

And despite you just behaving the same Vox was familiar with, seeing your reactions in person was a completely different experience.

Your energy was almost contagious even.

Vox just intended to drop you off at the hotel and return to his tower-

But you being you, decided to drag him inside despite his protests.

Charlie and Vaggie went ahead inside with the groceries while you once again grabbed Vox's hand to take him inside.

The overlord could already feel all eyes on him the second he stepped through the doors.

Talk about awkward.

"Greetings old pal! What brings you around here?"

Vox visibly cringed when he heard Alastor, forcing his trademark smile onto his face before looking at the deer.

Everyone already seemed to be taking cover for the inevitable fight that was going to happen between the two overlords when-

"Cut the shit Alastor, I don't need you antagonizing Vox when I want to chill out with him."

Vox didn't even have room to reply when your voice immediately cut through the tension like a knife through butter.

Even he looked at you with slightly widened eyes, did you just not fear Alastor at all?

In hindsight, Vox realized you didn't seem to fear him at all when you guys met so was this really unexpected?

The radio demon only narrowed his eyes at you in annoyance, static starting to surround him and you simply crossed your arms.

"If this is meant to be scary, I suggest trying something else. Cuz, you're honestly kinda just being creepy."

Alastor tilted his head before suddenly laughing off your words, your own deer ears pinning back in irritation.

"Why I was just trying to say hello my dear! No need to get so hostile!"

"Don't call me that. It's either my name or nothing ya weirdo."

That piqued Vox's interest, you never had any issues with his petnames-

And yet it seems like you had every bone to pick with his rival.

Was that because of him???

He bit back a laugh and just continued to spectate your exchange.

"If you do insist (Y/N), but I will say you have a terrible taste in companions."

You just flipped Alastor the bird and Vox raised an eyebrow at you.

He didn't even have to say a word to the deer before he disappeared back into the shadows.

"So what was that about who antagonizing who?"

"So much as say another word about this exchange I'm going to punch your screen in Vox."

"That's if you can reach it dollface."

And just like that, you both fell back into your usual banter.

The others would've thought you and Vox were arguing if it weren't for the seemingly genuine grins on both your faces.

There wasn't an air of hostility around you and Vox like when you confronted Alastor.

It was friendly, which was... weird to say the least.

All the more for the current residents of the hotel.

You were a new arrival, so the fact you were so buddy-buddy with one media overlord while having every bone to pick with the other was a little confusing.

Not to mention that Vox was kind of just... there.

Like he wasn't trying to strike up a deal, or even do anything to the hotel.

Was he there just for you???

That fact made them more concerned about your backstory than anything.

When a lull in the conversation between you and Vox finally hit, Angel spoke up.

"Say uh, toots. How'd you end up down here?"

You didn't seem to mind the nickname this time, instead simply shrugging nonchalantly.

Vox was sure now you just said you had problems with it because it was Alastor.

"That's actually a good question. I've got no idea."

"Seriously? Then how do you explain the fact you're friends with like- hell's biggest media overlord?!"

"Oh that? I met Vox when I was alive. No biggie though."

Vox just snickered from everyone's dumbfounded expressions.

Of course he could leave it to you to completely misunderstand just how important the title of "overlord" is.

"I think I might be able to help figure out why you're down here (Y/N)."

It almost entirely caught Vox off guard when Lucifer of all people suddenly made his presence known.

Not to mention the guy was just really short.

Like- wow.

You'd think with all the paintings and tales he'd be a bit more intimidating too but nope.

Vox just looked over at you next to him while you just gratefully gave Lucifer a hug and accepted his offer.

Seems like he wasn't wrong when he mentioned that you could easily make friends anywhere in the past.

The overlord nodded his head slightly to acknowledge the king of hell but was more focused on what he was going to do to help.

It wasn't like they could just watch your entire life on rewind-

Or could they?

Vox just watches as Lucifer uses his magic to form this... golden orb thing in front of everyone.

So color him shocked when it suddenly starts playing some of your memories.

From when you met him because of the ouija board incident-

Up until the point you died.

Was he the reason for your damnation???

Was that why the orb showed that??

"So that's how you guys know each other- don't see anything that could've caused you to be down here though. Let's go farther back."

What-

Now the overlord was completely stumped.

Just what.

Okay, maybe he jumped to conclusions too soon.

Apparently, from skimming through your memories- it seems like the main reason why you were down here with the rest of them-

Was because you stole a candy bar when you were like- five.

"And you were worried about not meeting me."

"I mean, how was I supposed to know I was damned since I was FIVE?! What the hell is this bullshit?!"

Vox could only laugh at you throwing a hissy fit, everyone else around you still being a little confused and dumbfounded that you were in hell for such a small and kind of idiotic reason.

"It's not funny Vox! I can't believe I'm stuck down here because of a fucking candy bar!"

"I thought you didn't mind being down here?"

"Oh trust me I don't, I'm good with wherever you are. But I could've at least gone down for a cooler reason! Fucking hell!"

He couldn't help but smile fondly as you continued to rant.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen you like this, but he always found it cute anyway.

Screens between you both or not.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #get off my screen series

517 notes · View notes

bunnyreaper · 8 months

Text

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals.

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind.

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere?

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold.

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers.

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap.

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately.

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to.

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time.

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day?

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours?

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but...

But?

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you.

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately.

Call?

please!!!

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you.

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too.

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free."

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?"

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun."

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either.

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile.

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?"

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat.

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal."

"Ach."

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too.

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance.

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges.

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working.

"I'm being mean now, sorry."

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?"

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on.

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush.

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts.

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest."

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't.

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass."

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry.

There's a beat of silence. "Not often."

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?"

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?"

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard."

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly. "For me, bonnie girl?"

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him.

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?"

"A have, chicken tikka masala."

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age."

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there."

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval.

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him.

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time.

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?"

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?"

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing.

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn.

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!"

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so."

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?"

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass."

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order.

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves.

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere.

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. "

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you.

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done."

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?"

Fuck, he's so considerate.

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping."

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise.

"The noodles, Johnny."

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course."

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment.

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty.

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?"

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here."

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach.

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?"

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home.

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer.

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny."

"Bye, lass."

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts.

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with.

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly.

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before.

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you.

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming.

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness.

"The big B! That's so silly"

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it.

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake.

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?"

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at.

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm.

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future.

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak.

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking."

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—"

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really."

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head."

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice.

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing.

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone.

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never."

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy."

"A like clingy, am clingy too."

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go."

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass."

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it.

"Why ya nervous?"

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads.

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile.

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone.

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl."

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you."

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck."

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy."

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word.

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?"

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too.

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command.

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on."

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free.

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya."

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?"

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me."��

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny."

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues.

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky."

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word.

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready."

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life.

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too."

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission.

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need.

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming.

"Johnny, can I—"

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on."

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high.

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?"

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far."

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily.

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates.

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand."

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored.

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive.

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound.

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere.

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this."

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it.

"Yeah."

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading.

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance.

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line.

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal.

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them.

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?"

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough."

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way.

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?"

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost."

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks."

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her.

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?"

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt."

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about.

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel.

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer.

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie."

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #soap mw2 #i swear i should get a beta reader for this series #i feel bad bcs im posting ch2 so soon with NO idea when 3 is coming #eventually???#love you all so much #collars and cages

819 notes · View notes

seelestars · 2 months

Note

Slow dance with Aventurine plz 👀🙏🏻

SLOW DANCE W/ AVEN… except the two of you are on an undercover spy mission ♡

a/n : ik this wasn’t related to the og req, but his bp icon got me thinking… and then out came this spy mission idea _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): hope u still enjoy tho ! had to google vids of slow dancing for this only to end up not being so descriptive abt it

you and aventurine were tasked with the objective of gathering intel on some people that ran the current planet the ipc wanted to conquer. except—it was specifically requested that you two harvest the information in a way that didn’t involve violence.

which is why the two of you were attending a banquet hosted by your targets as spies, wearing clothes that were equally as fancy as the attire of everyone else attending.

the place reeked of expensive champagne and luxury, couples inviting each other for romantic dances. it made you feel out of place, since you had nobody to dance with. you supposed it could make you and aventurine stick out like a sore thumb among everyone else—being some of the only people that were currently not dancing.

somehow, aventurine must have read your mind, because what he asked of you next was exactly what you were just pondering about.

“my lovely partner, why don’t we share a dance together? your envy is too obvious whenever you look at the couples here.” aventurine snickers, a fox-like grin on his lips as he extends his hand towards you. he had even decided to use a more affectionate term to refer to you, causing you to immediately perk up. it was quite amusing to him to watch you avert your gaze shyly whenever he acted more affectionate towards you.

“…no need. we’re not here to dance, aventurine. we’re here to do our job.” you decline, shaking your head. you couldn’t just let him distract you two from your main objective here… even though you would really like for him to distract you if it meant he would dance with you.

“oh? are you sureeee?~ after all, it’s a one in a lifetime opportunity to dance with *the* aventurine.” aventurine clicks his tongue playfully, teasing you. “besides, it’s only for a bit anyway. im sure it’s no harm if we get a bit sidetracked, no?” he doesn’t try overly hard to convince you anyway—he was sure you’ll give in without much persuasion. that’s how you always were when it came to him, unable to resist his charm.

“…fine. I suppose we can afford to get a bit sidetracked, just this once.” you sigh softly, a small smile on your lips as you inevitably give in to his desires. with slight reluctance, you take his gloved hand in yours as he begins to guide the two of you into a slow, romantic dance.

before you knew it, you were caught amidst an intense dance with aventurine. your gazes locked with each other as you carefully make sure not to step on his feet, as does he. you were sure your cheeks were very flushed currently—but he was right. it wasn’t everyday someone got to dance with someone like aventurine, who was the type of person both the ladies and gentlemen yearned for. so, you made sure to savor this precious moment.

aventurine then delicately guides you to do a twirl, letting out a soft chuckle once you do. “hehe, we should definitely dance like this more often, my lovely partner. we make for a good pair, don’t we?” he grins, smug that he managed to secure a dance with you. to him, you were so gorgeous that if there weren’t so many couples in this banquet already, everyone would be asking for a dance with you.

“…mm. we’ll see about that.” the way you smiled and looked at him made it quite obvious you would allow him more opportunities like this in the future. sure, this may have been a completely unnecessary distraction—but it was a pleasant one. a pleasant distraction that you wouldn’t mind happening more often if he was the cause.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader

371 notes · View notes

m3hgumi · 9 months

Text

— when you have period cramps pt 2

a/n: check out part 1 to this here!

pairings: yuta okkotsu x f!reader, toge inumaki x f!reader, nanami kento x f!reader

genres: fluff, comfort, so much fluff bye

word count: 729

yuta okkotsu

bro was SO STRESSED 😭

first time you were doubled down in pain clutching onto yourself on the sofa in the common room of the dorm he thought you were dying

“oh my god y/n are you okay? why are you laying down like that? is something hurting you? tell me where it hurts, i swear i’ll beat up whoever tried to hurt yo-“

“babe calm down and just get me a heating pad from maki. please.”

“on it 🫡” HES LITERALLY SO CUTE PLEASEKWKSKS

usually he’d stay by your side bringing you snacks whenever you asked or just talked to distract you from the pain

this later turned into hour long video calls during his downtime when he started training with miguel overseas

he’d talk for as long as he could, sharing the new food he tried, what miguel has been teaching him, and updates on the mission that led him there

because of the time difference and also how busy he was, he wasn’t able to reach you as often as he’d like to

he’d apologize for not being able to physically be there to comfort you, which you would wave off with a laugh because there isn’t really anything that could be done about it

he was trying his best though and that’s all that mattered to you 😪

inumaki toge

like itadori he was also very confused at first as to why you were wincing in pain while walking awkwardly towards him

he’d calmly ask you if you got hurt anywhere, with his hands reaching to you as he thought you were about to fall over

once the two of you got to somewhere more comfortable (like the common room or his dorm), you begin to explain where the pain was coming from

he could only sympathize with you, giving a worrisome and concerning look

but now he also realizes why maki gets snappier than usual on a particular week of the month 🤭

from then on he would be your personal errand boy, grabbing pads, chocolate, or any other good you’re craving from the store whenever you asked

he’d let you lay your head in his lap as you kept the heating pad on your lower stomach

he’d get you to watch youtube videos and tiktoks with him (anything you like)

if your cramps were getting particularly bad, he’d gently take your hand and draw circles on it in an attempt to ease the pain

if you’re comfortable with it he’d also do the same on your stomach (where the pain was really coming from)

though he can’t really endlessly talk to you to distract from the pain, his warming presence was more than enough to lull your mind from the pain

nanami kento

over the years he’s gotten very good at helping you get through shark week

like megumi he also has your period tracker synced to his phone so he can be notified of when he should stock up on supplies (ie. pads, compresses, snacks, pain meds, etc.)

he’ll also try (keyword: try) to not go into overtime at work so he could as much time with you as possible

also like megumi he isn’t fazed by your emotional outbursts or mood swings, as he knows its just the pain getting the better of you at times

if you don’t usually have an appetite while you’re on your period, he’ll cook you a small meal and slowly feed it to you, making sure you actually ate it before going back into the kitchen again

he’ll also try to limit the amount or cravings (chocolate and chips) you eat during the week and replace them with healthier options like fruit (ok health icon nanami 🙄) since he doesn’t want you having a stomachache after eating all of those sweets

also because it mildly reminds him of gojos gross sugar intake

if your feet or shoulders are aching, he’ll gladly give you massages to ease the tension in those areas

if you get bored of the shows on tv then he will read to you until you fall asleep

his reading voice, typically dull and monotone, rings music to your ears as your consciousness begins to slip away, resulting in your eyelids coming closer together to let you fall into a peaceful sleep (i should maybe shut up now)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #nanami kento #yuta okkotsu #inumaki toge #nanami kento x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki toge x reader #nanami headcanons #yuta headcanons #inumaki headcanons #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #nanami x reader #inumaki fluff #yuta x reader

991 notes · View notes

lonleywriters-blog · 5 months

Note

I hope you are doing well and if not im so sorry! I hope it gets better (it will it always does)

♡♡♡

If you are still taking requests I was wondering if you could do head cannons (idk if that's spelt right, I cant spell to save my life) of gotham villans with a plus-size bf/gf? And if you do Jeremiah could you include pre-spray too? (Pre-spray Jeremiah has my heart) thankkkkkkk youuuuuuu!!!!!

YESSS

Gotham villains with plus size s/o

He isn't a smaller or average man himself so he can be insecure.

He genuinely doesn't even think of your weight, he is just so taken back by your curves.

He is entranced by the way your curves move and look.

He will buy you tight and fitting dresses all the time, unless he sees you are getting self conscious because of it.

He will sit you down and whisper sweet words in your ears for hours. He means every word to.

He loves to grab your thighs, it doesn't even have to be sexual.

If you are in bed reading with him his hand is just resting and lightly massaging your thigh.

He hates to see you cry or even slightly sad, especially if it's because of your appearance. He will literally drown you in affection until you can't say anything bad about yourself.

He is so pathetic and needy, he is shocked anyone wants to date him.

He is even more shocked when it's a curvy girl, just his type.

He is literally always a blushing mess around you, it doesn't matter how long you have been together.

Will trace his finger up and down your stretch marks as he falls asleep.

If you ever mentioned being insecure he will find out why and point out every single reason he lives that part of you.

If you dress up he will let you walk him around like a dog, just happy to be by your side.

You could practically use him as an accessory, and he would happily thank you.

Literally worships you, like actually has his goons worship you.

He will have shrines built, some combined with his, others separate.

He needs you to be seen and adored like he sees and adores you.

He will get the most expensive and flattering clothes, having you prance around for him.

You are like a model icon of the underground world, no one can say anything negative because you always look your best.

He spoils you. Hair, makeup, nails, anything you want you can have.

If you don't want anything at all he is more than happy with that as well.

Instead he will buy you movies, snacks, and the fluffiest blankets.

My man will go feral.

He hadn't thought much of being with someone curvy, since he was mostly locked up or in middle of a big plan.

When he sees you, he drops everything. He doesn't care if he is getting shit at, he has to say hi.

He will never let you leave the house without giving you at least ten compliments and grabs.

He is obsessed with dressing you up.

Especially in vintage style dresses or gowns of any type

If he ever hears people talking about you he will torture them.

Sometimes he gets very tempted to just hypnotize you into being more confident when he sees you sad. He never would though.

He gets so giddy around you, he just can't believe you are real.

You are real, and you really want him. That's almost too much for him.

He will do anything he can to make you comfortable and confident.

He always carries a mini lotion for your thighs so you don't get sores or chub rub.

He dots on you all day, you will distract him for work almost every time.

Can't help but grab your hips, literally always had a hand there.

He loves to hug you while you cook and use his hands to move your hips to whatever song plays.

He is obsessed with the way your curves move, he can't get enough.

He will beg you to sit in his face, he needs to feel your thighs around his head.

He is actually so whiny and pathetic for you.

#gotham x reader #jerome valeska x reader #jervis tetch x reader #jeremiah velaska x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #edward nygma x reader

278 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Text

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.2

George: We don't have to keep [an image] up, we just remain ourselves. Don't we, Ringo? Ringo: well, we do, I mean, it's the other two we're worried about. It's a joke about John and Paul being bigheads, but a crazy person – definitely not me – could also see it other ways if they wanted to.

Paul talking about their mutual friend when asked how they met and John telling him not to complicate it. They're so married it's ridiculous.

Always looking at each other with every single joke.

He looks like he's in a lovely enclosure at the petting zoo. I've always been so confused by this footage. Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

I LOVE that we now know Paul was cast as Thisbe and John as Pyramus and then they switched. I'm actually dying to know how and why that happened though. My first instinct was “of course. Paul was scared he'd look too convincing as a woman, so John did it for him.” But no. Paul dressed as a woman at the cavern, wore ladies lingerie in Hamburg, and wanted to do a full drag show on TV in the early seventies. So why not Thisbe?

Why do you as a man randomly bring up the color of your friend's dick while staring lovingly into his eyes?

It must be noted. They had a wonderful time playing star-crossed lovers.

The bickering pianos are so cute! And then John (prompting Paul): and John and I . . . Paul: oh I hate this. John: will probably carry on . . . Paul: we'll carry on songwriting . . . You just know Paul didn't hear the end of that one interview answer for a long long time. And it's because John just had to hear it over and over again.

Love the editing so that Paul smacks John's ass right as the symbols crash. 10/10 A+

This iconic moment. Poor George tally number 4.

Interviewer brings up marriage and John takes a shot like he wants to forget that the whole concept even exists. Literally poor Cynthia. And not even in an “lol her husband's gay” type of way. Just in a genuine “the way their relationship fell apart actually breaks my heart because she really did love him and in his way he loved her too but they were just so thoroughly incompatible” type of way.

Paul: makes a stupid dad joke. John: giggles gleefully and kicks his feet

I have never seen someone so disappointed that they didn't need to lend their friend a pen. Paul had his hand in his pocket before John even asked the interviewer for a pen and when the interviewer gives him one, Paul literally hangs his head like he's just been cut from the school play. I just. The obsession is frankly cartoonish. But also, he just needs to be needed, you know? How many songs does he have which conflate being needed and being loved?

The juxtaposition of Paul and John elaborately messing with the interviewer (“yes John Lenard, that's me” and “actually it's done by mirrors.”) vs George's “I don't know” and “yeah.” it's actually kind of mean editing but whatever. It is ULM not UH. Someone should make that though.

Again, John. Calm down. He's not that funny. Just look at Jimmy. That's the normal person's reaction to that joke. John is half the reason Paul has such a big head honestly.

Paul's answer to a question about the Beatles gaining a lot of adult fans is nice. Sometimes he shocks with a bit of wisdom. Sometimes his words don't get messed up at the point they hit his throat as he says.

What the fuck? Okay so the interviewer asks Paul what he likes in a girl, right? I've always been too distracted by Paul saying he likes a sense of humor and John doing an obnoxious fake laugh in the background because John. It's embarrassing how obvious you are. Stop.

But I never noticed Paul actually says “people”. The interviewer asks about girls and he says he likes “people - er - girls” to have a sense of humor. Huh. Okay.

So ULM was actually what made me a serious Beatles fan and this was the first moment where I had to pause it and verify to see if what I'd just read was actually true. It really is a doozy.

How to flirt. A guide by Paul McCartney. Step one: get your crush’s attention. This should be extremely easy. Just gesture vaguely at something you're holding. He'll be interested. Step two: do something suggestive to a phallic object. Step three: that's it. You've got him. He'll do whatever you want.

The editing in this thing truly is brutal. Just the jump cuts from a question about Cynthia to John and Paul making each other laugh to girls screaming to John and Paul unnecessarily touching to girls passed out on the ground to John and Paul desperate for each other's attention to girls waving signs to John and Paul sharing weird eye contact to girls physically mobbing them to John and Paul beaming at each other to a question about Jane. It really does drive home the immense pressure of compulsory heterosexuality back then.

Then a question that's obviously meant to poke a nerve and start some bad feelings. “Paul. Is John the leader of the Beatles?” Easily rebuffed with “no I'm not” and “there's no real leader”. I know I'm dramatic but really it's like every aspect of that society was against them you know? And they just kind of said "fuck you, we're crazy about each other."

Question: what do they think about when they're imprisoned in their hotel rooms? John: we don't think about one thing. *Whips head to look at Paul* well, some of us do. Oh and you know that how exactly? What, do you just have a printout of his every thought? Do you keep constant tabs on his dick?

Someone give me the heterosexual explanation of that moment when John very clearly and obviously checks out and appreciates Paul's ass as he and Ringo are pretending to be cowboys. Seriously. I'm at a loss here.

Poor George tally number six? Seven? They're asked what they'll do if England reinstates the draft. John brings up Southern Ireland. George brings up Germany. Paul and John plan their joint escape to Southern Ireland as if George hadn't even spoken.

The choice to play “Another Girl” over that quote of John's being like ‘Paul's actually much meaner than i am’ is great. Because that's seriously such a jerk song. I don't much like Jane, honestly, but fuck, she deserved so much better than Paul. He was such a douche.

Literally all the song choices in this are phenomenal. “Hide Your Love Away” over the montage of 60s homophobia moments? It's so genius. Saying everything without saying anything. Letting the Beatles do the talking.

The laugh track over the cartoon is honestly so sad. Nobody asked them if they were okay with being mocked like that and they never even made a dime off it. What would that have felt like to know that your being “too close” with your best friend was a running joke on TV?

“It's only love and that is all. Why should I feel the way I do?”

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison

205 notes · View notes

bigbawdy-benzz · 10 months

Text

SUPER SHY 2.0

Pairing: Miles 42! X Shy Black Plus Size Fem Reader

Tags: @idkmistake @aaliyahwalkshere @mama-2001

Summary: Y/N has finally been noticed by Miles, you already had Miles heart now you have it even more now that you two are bonding getting to know each other.

A/N: I'm glad you guys loved the other one so much!! So here's pt.2 a day later I hope you guys love this one as well!! ENJOYYYYY as the author I was giggling and kicking my feet rooting for y’all. Btw if you didn’t read Pt.1 go read it before this one!! pt3

“I'm Y/N thank you so much”. You say taking your books trying to hide your smile.

“No problem Y/N also I like your shoes” Miles stated with a smile, you looked down at your shoes then looked at his smiling even wider looking back up at him.

“Thank you we’re matching” Y/N replied. Miles looked at his shoes smirking looking at Y/N

“Coincidence” He said swiftly walking away with his friends. You were hooping and hollering in your head trying not to scream.

“GIRLLLLLLLLL” Aaliyah shouted.

“Damn that was a very intense moment” Ocean states with her eyes widened looking at You.

“That's your man cannot convince me ANY less” Aaliyah exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

“Seriously did you see the way he LOOKED at you when y’all were talking AND the mamita that's all yours Y/N”. Ocean added to Aaliyah’s statement

“PLS don’t add on to my delusions, let's get to class” You stated before, y'all were late to class. You and your friends contained yourselves going to your math class. You couldn’t concentrate on anything but Miles was running through your mind it was hard to pull yourself together. Your friends noticed laughing quietly. You looked at them with a smile, you went on your phone to distract yourself seeing the following icon pop up on instagram, you clicked it seeing ‘therealmilesgmorales’ has followed you. Your eyes light up showing your friends your phone.

“Ohhhh mmmmm ggggggg” Aaliyah whispered.

“You better get on that luv cause that's officially your man he followed you” Ocean stated smirking at You.

“Real delulu screaming out my man” You sang causing you and your friends to giggle, in your peripheral vision your teacher eyed yall.You guys immediately started doing your work praying the bell rings soon. You went back to daydreaming with the biggest smile on your face, you heard the bell ring grabbing your things exiting the class room with your friends. The rest of the school day went by smoothly, you saw Miles in the hallway shooting him smiles and he smiled right back at you. The end of the day approached and you were about to leave with your friends.

“Hey Mamita” Miles said approaching you, you were smiling from ear to ear.

“Hi Miles” You said shyly.

“Is it okay if I walk you home?”. Miles asked, You looked at your friends and then back at Miles they nodded their heads at you.

“Yes of course” You replied.

“BYEEE Y/N WE LOVE YOU” Aaliyah shouted

“BE SAFE BOOKIE” Ocean Shouted as well as you were leaving with Miles.The walk was dead silent for 5 minutes because you were too shy to say anything, Miles picked up on this smiling at you.

“What you listening to?” Miles asks

“I'm listening to Best I ever had by Drake” You reply

“That's my shiiit play it I wanna listen”. He says you take your airpod out blasting the song. Miles starts singing, you look at him chuckling joining him cause fuck it.

“Baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted We could do it real big, bigger than you ever done it You be up on everything, other hoes ain't ever on it I want this forever, I swear, I can spend whatever on it” The both of you sing laughing having a good time walking home. You were smiling the whole walk, Miles started dancing while walking making you laugh.

“AYEEEE” you shouted hyping him up, you appreciated how he made you feel comfortable by doing simple things. Quite frankly Miles did not give a damn about how he might have looked crazy; it made you feel comfortable enough to sing at the top of your lungs with him.

“Who else you listen to ma?” Miles asks with a smile, seeing you smile

“I listen to Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator, Steve lacy, Shreea Kaul, the list goes on”. You reply smiling from ear to ear.

“I like Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator,Steve Lacy, I have to listen to Shreea Kaul. We gotta get together, do nothing and listen to music you a Vibe” Miles stated, looking at you with the cutest smile on your face.

“Tienes una hermosa sonrisa” Miles said, making you want to fall to your knees, the way it rippled off his tongue, the way his voice sounded it tingled you just right. (You have a beautiful smile)

“Thank you Miles” You said shyly, Miles chuckled.

“You gettin shy on me Mamita?”. He says confidently being a tease, the way everything rolled off his tongue did something to you.

“Noo of course not”. You say looking away from Miles.

“Awe it’s okay, I have a question for you”. Miles expressed

“What's your question?” You ask while still looking away from him, he brought his hand to your chin turning your head to look at him, you were flustered trying not to blush.

“Can I take you out Tomorrow?” He asks, caressing your cheek with his thumb, you fall into his touch looking at him.

“Yes you can take me out” You say receiving a smile from Miles, he wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was too soon way too soon. He stopped touching your face realizing you’ve made home.

“Don’t worry about where we are going, I'm going to figure it out,it's going to be a surprise just show up looking pretty I'm going to show you how pretty girls are treated”. Miles stated looking you in the eyes.

Stay tuned for pt 3!!!

581 notes · View notes

iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 4 months

Text

airpods

read part two (posted 4/28/24) here!!! wc: 2k reader: femme!afab (matt calls reader a "bad girl", reader is wearing a denim skirt) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also a really bonkers scenario; funny & angst -- stepcest -- inserting foreign objects -- slighttttt dub-conn-ish summary: (y/n) will only give rivalnewstepbrother!matthew his airpods back if he promises to play a little game with them

ੈ✩‧₊˚ this is a doozy lmao. pretty iconic tho if i do say so myself. i take literally no responsibility for it even tho i am 100% responsible for it. basically just wrote itself while i was in a fever dream-like state so pls enjoy. i think it needs a sequel personally but lemme know what you think!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, stepcest, insertion of foreign object into genitals (reader), kind of dub-conny, lots of taunting teasing and degradation from both characters, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, hints of dom!matt and dom!reader and also sub!matt and sub!reader we really cover the bases and lay some groundwork lmao, lots of swearing and i used the word vagina once it was for something funny not for smut but people can still be triggered by that word so! you are warned.

“matty, what the actual f*ck are you doing?” you ask as the sight of your dumbass step brother admiring his shirtless reflection in the mirror assaults your eyes.

ever since you met matthew a year and a half ago, every holiday had been ruined by your family constantly comparing you to him. why couldn’t you be more like matt? he’s so passionate and hardworking towards his craft and you’re a waitress at a bar. and not a classy one.

though you don’t see him all that much, you have to share the house with him when he comes home to visit. this particular visit, you and matthew have the house to yourselves for the night— your parents having left this morning for a little new year’s getaway.

matthew’s flexing his (admittedly defined) triceps and dancing around a bit— headphones covering his ears. but when he sees your reflection staring back at him in his bedroom mirror, he jumps in horror.

“WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME!?” he shouts, tearing off his headphones and sprinting across the room to slam the door in your face. “stalker.”

“freak,” you reply childishly, stepping back out of the doorframe to avoid a broken nose. once the door is shut, you knock sweetly.

tap, tap. tap, tap.

matthew opens it, cheeks as red (and canadian) as a pair of macintosh apples. “what do you want?”

“well, i was going to give you back your airpods that i stole yesterday so you didn’t have to wear those clunky headphones anymore, but,” you shake the airpods case in front of you teasingly before placing it back in the pocket of your denim skirt, “i don’t really wanna give them to you anymore after how rude you just were.”

“you—… you stole my airpods!?” matthew exclaims. “i’ve been looking everywhere for them!”

you shrug. “i guess not everywhere.”

“ugh, you can be such a b—,” matthew starts to curse, but he stops; a little conflicted pout forming on his plush lips. “a b—…”

“you can’t even f*cking say it, can you?” you taunt, pushing matthew’s door open a little further and taking a step inside. “too much of a marshmallow to even swear at me. afraid of hurting my feelings or something, matty?”

“as i’ve said many times before, just matt is fine,” he spits, brows furrowing in frustration. “and i’m not a marshmallow. and, frankly, i don’t give a… shit… about your feelings!”

“cute,” you mock, inching closer to him. your eyes wander down to his torso, a six-pack of well-fed abs staring back at you. “what is it with all the muscles anyway? you think they’ll distract girls from seeing how much of a dumpling you really are?”

“i’m not a dumpling,” matthew huffs through gritted teeth. “and it’s none of your business.”

you consider this for a moment and then nod. “you’re right. it’s none of my business.”

“really? that was easier than—”

“but if it was my business,” you continue, stealing another glance at his chest. your eyes trail down further— waistband of his calvin klein boxers peaking out from his jeans. you hate to admit it, but he’s kind of hot. maybe that wasn’t an entirely appropriate thought to be having about your lameass new step brother, but it was unfortunately the truth. “i’d tell you it isn’t working. not bad to look at though.”

you turn on your heel, starting to walk back out the door when matthew calls, “hey, what about my airpods!?”

“what airpods?” you reply innocently before a smirk darkens your features. you pull the case out of the pocket of your skirt again and wave it in front of him enticingly. “oh, these?”

matthew tries to grab them out of your hand, but you’re too quick— the earbuds back safely in your pocket before he can steal them. his jaw sets, eyes ripe with anger as he pushes the door shut behind you. he inches forward, effectively trapping you between him and the door. “give them the fuck back, you insufferable bitch.”

a wave of desire rushes over you. there’s just something about driving a nice boy over the edge that really does it for you.

and matthew was the nicest of nice boys— and because of that, a giant pain in your ass. but hearing him talk like that as he corners you in; hovering only a couple inches from your face…

“oh—… i—… uh… sorry,” he stutters as he realizes how close he is to you, backing up and stuffing his hands in his pockets. matthew blushes again as he looks away from you nervously.

he’s resumed his dumpling form, but the glimpse of potential lurking underneath was enough to make you want to see more.

“fine, you can have your airpods back,” you relent with a sigh. “if…”

“if?” he asks, brow raised.

“if you can find where i hide them,” you finish with a proud smile.

“i’m not gonna play that game,” matthew replies with a frown. “besides, this house is huge! you’re gonna make me tear the whole thing up to find something that small? no way.”

“that’s too bad,” you say, shaking your head. “i guess they’re mine now.”

matthew groans. “at least make the playing field more reasonable.”

you tilt your head to the side, a devious plan entering your mind. “i think i can work with that.”

matthew sighs. “i can’t believe i’m entertaining this... but where are you thinking?”

“me,” you answer. “i’m thinking you can search me.”

“like, you’re gonna hide it on your person,” matthew clarifies, ears burning red. “like, in one of your pockets?”

“yeah, exactly,” you hum happily. “my pocket.”

matthew swallows nervously, purposefully avoiding your gaze. “that sounds too easy. there has to be a catch.”

“no catch. it’ll be in my pocket,” you confirm, extending your hand to him. “you just have to find the right one.”

matthew blinks at you, then at your hand. after a moment, he takes it in his own and shakes it. “fine. deal.”

“i’ll be back in a minute then,” you say, throwing open the door and running off to hide the airpods in one of your pockets.

—

“okay, so it’s not in your hoodie pockets,” matthew deduces after reaching a tentative hand in each one and coming up empty. “that means it’s in one of these pockets?”

you smile at him encouragingly as he blinks nervously at you, gesturing to your denim skirt.

“why are you making me do this?” matthew laments dramatically. “aren’t you, like… uncomfortable with me touching you and stuff?”

“not at all,” you reply with a smirk. “i do get a lot of enjoyment out of making you uncomfortable though.”

“so i gathered,” he says, starting to reach for one of your back pockets. “is it okay if i—.”

“just do it already,” you interject, rolling your eyes.

“okay, okay,” matthew says, reaching his hand down the pocket. “sue me for trying to be a gentleman.”

he pulls out his hand. it’s empty.

matthew reaches down your other back pocket, again finding nothing.

“should probably check the front,” you offer contentedly.

“thanks for the hint,” matthew huffs, walking back around to face you. cautiously, he sticks his fingers down your left, front pocket— moving them side to side before removing them. “are you f*cking with me? you didn’t even hide them, did you!?”

his rough tone sends another wave of excitement through you, but you force a little pout. “i can’t believe you think i wouldn’t play by the rules, matty.”

he sticks his fingers unceremoniously in the last pocket, coming up empty yet again. “then where the f*ck are they!?”

you tilt your head cutely, basically euphoric over how much you’re riling him up. “in my pocket.”

“i just looked through all your pockets! they’re not—…” matthew stops yelling, seemingly lost in thought before his eyes widen in total disbelief. “wait… you—… you don’t mean…”

“ding, ding, ding,” you reply with a malicious smirk. “you know, you’re smarter than you look.”

“you—… you put my airpods up your VAGINA!?” matthew yells: confused, horrified and impressed all at the same time.

you shrug. “i’ve had bigger.”

matthew is silent as you walk over to his bed and sit down, spreading your legs just a bit.

“well, the deal’s still on,” you offer, placing your hands behind you and leaning back onto them casually. “if you can find them, they’re yours.”

“you—… you want me to…” matthew stammers, eyes locked on your denim skirt. “to...”

“you don’t have to,” you assert, pulling up your skirt to reveal your bare core to him. his lips part, eyeing your center like it’s the forbidden fruit. and it kind of is. “if you don’t want to.”

“this is ridiculous,” matthew says breathily in a way that tells you that, though this may very well be a ridiculous thing to be happening right now, he’s a bit enticed by it all. he walks toward you, pushing you back a bit further onto the bed with one hand to expose your heat more. “this is absolutely f*cking…”

he kneels down on the hardwood floor between your legs, one hand finding each of your thighs and prying them further apart. he grabs your hips, pulling your naked core closer to his face. you hope he doesn’t notice you clench around his airpods at the man-handling.

matthew swallows hard as he examines every inch of you. scandalized eyes and bottom lip drawn between his teeth, you can basically hear his conflicting, depraved thoughts.

“i really hate you, you know that?” he asks rhetorically, licking his lips as your walls pulse again. he stuffs a finger up you suddenly, pushing it in further and further until he’s tapping on the case of his airpods. “if you’ve been looking for a reason that your whole family likes me better than you, i think both of our searches can end with this.”

the tiniest whimper escapes you at the degradation. it’s exactly what you’d been waiting for.

matthew looks up at you, knuckle-deep in your pussy. his lips part in shock at the sound. “did you--... did you just...”

“are you going to take it out, or what?” you reply, maintaining your rude, slightly bored disposition.

he looks back at your center, moving his finger to try to hook around the case and wiggle it out of you. it doesn’t budge. he inserts another finger into you, stretching your walls out in hopes that the case might come out with more space.

it stays put.

“it’s not coming out,” matthew says, panic in his eyes. “what did you do, gorilla glue it to your cervix?”

“i didn’t even know you knew that word,” you snort, averting his gaze. “i guess you’ll have to find a way to loosen it then.”

matthew’s eyes bulge. “and how the hell am i supposed to do that!?”

“hm, i dunno,” you muse, locking eyes with him again. “don’t they always say to put butter on your arm to make it slippery if it’s stuck in something?”

“you want me to put butter in your...” matthew trails off as he thinks more about your suggestion. “slippery?”

“yeah,” you reply with a nod, desperately trying to maintain your dominance. “you know, like... wet.”

“wet...” he repeats again, eyes meeting your cunt again. “you want me to make you... oh.”

“just a thought,” you shrug off.

matthew shakes his head quickly. “but, we can’t--... i can’t--”

“why can’t you?” you ask, tapping his bare chest with your toes. “oh, i remember now! it’s because you’re a f*cking marshmall--”

matthew’s hands grip your thighs roughly as he pulls your pussy even closer to his face. he licks a long, teasing stripe up through your folds-- ending and circling at your clit.

this time you don’t hide your moan.

“what was that?” matthew taunts, one eyebrow arching in amusement. “feel good?”

it does feel good-- better than you could’ve imagined matthew’s tongue would feel against you. you nod, moving your hips to try to push your core even closer to him. he slaps your right thigh hard, warning you wordlessly not to make a fuss. it just makes you need to fuss more, but he reattaches his tongue to your cunt anyway.

he laps at your clit with such dedication that you’re crying out within a couple of minutes-- begging him for more.

“pl--please,” you whine, hand running through his hair and pulling it from the base. “wanna cum on your tongue.”

“f*cking hell,” he moans into your core, the vibration sending more waves of pleasure through you. he closes his eyes as he starts to rhythmically suck on your bundle of nerves, only coming up for air to say, “how can you be so desperate with a pussy this perfect?”

“matty, i--”

“didn’t i tell you not to f*cking call me that,” he growls, inserting a finger into your now dripping cunt. “so this is what you wanted, huh? stole my airpods just so you could cum all over my fingers? you’re such a bad girl, (y/n).”

you’re right on the edge, just a few seconds more and you’ll be moaning matthew’s name like a prayer.

but then you feel it.

matthew’s finger latches around the now lubricated airpod case-- pulling it free from your warmest pocket as he detaches his lips from around your clit. you stare at him helplessly, the denial of your orgasm leaving you so frustrated you’re rendered speechless.

how could you have let him get the upper hand on you?

“but i guess you forgot,” he says with a smirk, standing up and walking toward the door. “bad girls don’t get to cum.”

you blink silently at him once. twice. matthew holds open the door, pointing into the hallway.

“now get out of my room.”

327 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Text

there ain't enough room in this Pontiac for the two of us

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. (A Javier Peña-shaped rift on this iconic fic)

tags/warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon elements, hand jobs (f receiving), no use y/n, javi being sexually frustrating as hell, time period compliant sexism (not from Javi)

a/n: please go read the original fic. Her’s is far superior to mine and this is but a shameful hollow echo.

🤍 AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next |

🤍Masterlist

Bogota

11:23PM

Back before you willingly and eagerly joined the special task force between several unruly government organizations created with sole and express purpose to hunt down and catch the cartel king Pablo Escobar – before you applied to the DEA on the highest recommendation of your law professor, your criminal psychology professor, and the dean of admission, all whom believed your talents, (despite the unfortunate accident that you were a woman) would have a deep and profound impact on catching those responsible for the deaths of thousands worldwide – hell, even before you applied to Stanford and you spent your free time oscillating between color guard, JROTC, and retaking your practice SATs and ACTs until you got nearly a perfect score so that the realization that you didn’t have one single friend in the world to distract you from your single-minded almost obsessive focus to prove yourself, despite all your faults –

Before all of that –

If someone had discreetly taken you by the arm, gently sat you down, and told you what a perfect and deluded idiot you would make of yourself on a seven hour stake out on a dark, rainy night in the capital of Colombia, well, you probably would have laughed them out the door.

You aren’t one really predisposed to bouts of uncontrollable, side-splitting, “I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid to take a breath out of fear of the noise that’s going to come out of my nose” laughter, but if someone allowed you to take a good, long, healthy look at one of your more unhealthy habits – that, of course, being your almost toxic levels of competitive behavior – you might have been prone to at least one giggle.

The thing was, you really didn’t lose. Ever. You didn’t back then and you don’t now and your tenacious, unbreakable will made you not only a formidable and dogged DEA agent, but it also (and perhaps more importantly) made you a social, professional, and absolutely mental equal to men like Javier fucking Peña.

Javier Peña, whom women would literally melt into a puddle around, whom men would clamor over themselves just to get a drink with. He’s just so fucking cool, you overheard one of the office interns mutter to another, just look at him. That was also the day you spilled coffee down your entire blouse because you squeezed your styrofoam coffee cup too hard, but that was an entirely unrelated matter.

Whatever sway Peña seemed to inflict over the panties of every woman in the building, you resolutely stayed immune. When you first joined, it had been easy to avoid him. So much so, you were completely flummoxed when the man with the name you’d heard whispered in the hallways, finally made his way over to your side of the building for a meeting with your boss. He walked in with a badly-fitted suit, bags under his eyes, the reeking stench of day-old cigarettes, but by the reactions of the phone girls, you’d thought Elvis himself had just emerged from his coffin and began performing “Hound Dog” topless in bedazzled pants.

This? This is “The Guy”? The guy that women on your floor would spend their entire lunch breaks in the bathroom comparing stories over – “yes, Kathy, I heard his dick really is that huge!” “Yes, Shannon swears he made come for hours just with his tongue!”

Him?

Really?

Was it just slim pickings between married men and wheezing senators?

Never meet your heroes, I guess.

That was back in the late 80s. Back before the bombings and the kidnappings and the mutilated bodies of journalists.

Things had changed. Significantly.

Once things had gotten – let’s just say, dire – the agency started moving around teams, prioritizing certain missions over others. Which meant not only were you taken off a case you had just spent the better part of a year and a half building, but you were reassigned to a new team. Co-led by the one and only Javier. Fucking. Peña.

Now, Javier didn’t like the rain, especially not after a seven hour stake out. You knew this because every time it rained, he stormed into the pen, snorting like an enraged bull, his hair wet and his shoulders damp. Why the man couldn’t just simply go out and pick up an umbrella, you didn’t feel the need to ask. But it set your teeth on edge that a grown adult would be so annoyed by something that had such a simple solution. More than once you thought about hurling your own umbrella like a javelin at him, but your fighting matches had become legendary around the office and you refused to be provoked again by Javier’s own arrogance.

But that’s what started all of this, right?

You, with your white-hot competitive streak, and him, with his over-inflated ego, clashed again and again – until finally about the one thing both brought you a sense of pride: your sex lives.

Annoyingly, this was proving more difficult than you anticipated.

Thumbing the rim of your third lukewarm coffee of the night, you sigh, long and loud, not entirely regretful of the choices that led you here, but simply rather irked that someone had come along and finally proved to be a real challenge.

“Shut it.”

“Excuse me?”

Javier, who had been sitting next to you for the better part of the past seven hours, his long legs tucked up around the bulky wheel of the black Pontiac Firefly the agency had rented for this mission, continues to scowl through the dark and the rain at the spot where you had tracked one of Pablo’s higher ranking enforcers. A gambling den on the first floor, and a brothel in the basement, most men you tailed here spent only a few hours betting and fucking, before wandering back home, probably a little drunk and significantly less horny. But this guy – fuck – did he have the stamina of an Olympic athlete?

What had begun as a quick follow up to some intel your team received earlier in the week had turned into one of the longest and most unbearable nights of your life.

“I said, shut it.”

Your mouth drops open. “I am literally just breathing, Javier.”

“Yeah and you’re doing it too loud.” He takes a sip from the coffee between his legs then resumes his hunched, crossed arm position. “It’s annoying.”

Huffing, you sink lower in your seat, as much as the surveillance equipment and evidence boxes around your legs would allow.

“This is so stupid,” you grumble.

“This is basic DEA work, sweetheart. If you can’t cut it, I’m sure I can find someone – literally anyone – else to take your spot. Sarah’s always been eager to spend some extra time alone with me. Or what about Mac? You two get along right? Who am I kidding? You get along with e-e-everyone–,”

It is infuriating he knows exactly where to poke and prod to supercharge your competitiveness as well as your jealousy.

“I’m not talking about the sting, Javier! I’m talking about your need to always be in control. I’m talking about how, just because you can’t get your fucking rocks off, you’ve been sniping at everyone in the building.” You scowl and lean as far away from him as you can in the cramped hatchback. “Making everyone’s lives hell because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in a month.”

“Oh, sure, I’m the only one being a fucking nuisance in the office,” he sneers, scratching at his forehead with his thumbnail. “After your little meltdown at the copier machine, I think Mark from accounting would rather fist-fight God than have to ask you for a stapler again.”

You snatch up the used napkins in the cupholder between you and shred it to pieces. You chuck the little bits at him as you snap back,

“The. Stapler. Was. Right. There! He. Was. Being. Stupid!”

“Stop it! You’re going to get it in my coffee!”

With a snarl, you hurl the mangled rest of the napkin at him and he swats it out of the air. It rolls over the dashboard, fluttering in the AC that was doing absolutely nothing to combat the sticky humidity.

He did this to you. He always did this to you. Made you feel like a silly child, an overly emotional brat, for pointing out things he did time and time again. Why was he allowed to get away with it and you weren’t?

In the temporary silence, the rain patters loudly on the roof of the car. Headlights emerge from the gloom and disappear as the few unlucky caught out in this deluge run from awning to awning with magazines, newspapers, or umbrellas tucked over their heads. It had been raining for hours and it seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

You aren’t sure which irritates you more: the humidity or the stickiness gathering on the crotch of your panties.

It had been there for days, constant, a reminder, no matter how often you changed them out for some temporary escape. Your thighs tightened as close as they could, but a large storage box split your legs apart.

“You know,” Javier begins softly, almost contrite, gentle in a way you’d never heard before. He's pinching the edge of his coffee cup with his fingers, resolutely not looking at you. “If this bothers you so much, you can just quit. Call it off. No hard feelings.”

You snort. He really is the most ridiculous man alive.

“Yeah? You’d get the satisfaction of finally coming, after being hard for at least – what, a month, month and a half? – and half my next paycheck? I don’t think so.” You adjust in your seat, your left hip starting to ache from the position you’ve been maintaining for seven hours. “Well, the money’s one thing. But I think I’d rather be physically shot than have to listen to you parade around the office, gleefully spilling secrets about me as your latest conquest, bragging to all your little buddies around the water cooler how you finally bested that bitch in the bullpen. At that point, I’d rather we just actually fuck. At least that way I can finally understand what the fuck has the secretaries all in a goddamn hissy fit over.”

After nearly a third of the day spent next to you, he finally tears his gaze away from the target and looks at you. His dark eyebrows drawn down, plush lips frowning, he’s unnervingly serious. You wonder if you actually managed to make him genuinely angry.

“I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost. And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.” Let me? Now that’s a turn of phrase you definitely won’t spend hours thinking about. His frown deepens as he glances down to his coffee cup. “People – women – like to talk, but I never say anything, to anyone. I don’t encourage it, but it feels like I’m the one being checked off a list. Like I’m a space on a fucking bingo card. It’s rude.”

Gobsmacked into silence, you watch as he cranks down the window for just enough space to chuck his (and yours) empty coffee cups out onto the wet road beside the car. You let him tug it out of from between your legs without a single line of snark.

Your brain finally comes back online when the window squeaks back into place.

Hang on a second – did you really just feel bad for the office casanova? That little shit manipulated you into actually feeling sorry for the dozens of women he willingly brings home then turns out like used toilet paper. You can feel that decades old hate and disgust crack open and boil in your stomach.

“Well, hey, Javi, here’s an idea. Just stop fucking the women you work with. If it bothers you so much, then stop fucking women entirely!”

“I did! I have done that and I am!” He gestures wildly with his hands, palms out as if in supplication. “Everyone in the office – including Noonan, I’m pretty sure – knows about this stupid fucking bet and for once, it’s been great to have an excuse to not have to hold up my expectation of being a great lay!”

You will not allow yourself the time to fully process the idea that not only is Javier Peña grateful to not have to fuck a skirt, but it’s you he’s doing it for, so you snarl back, as you always do.

“Then what? What’s got you so fucking wound up, if your poor dick needs a break from getting sucked?”

With a groan that starts somewhere in his lower ribcage, he falls forward into the steering wheel, his forehead on the rim.

“I’m not saying that, alright? It’s actually been nice to have my bed to myself for a bit. But Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.”

Don’t.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the way he says it. Like it’s holy.

The warmth of the humidity in the car ratchets up as your heart starts to race, your palms sweat. You wonder vaguely if there’s condensation on the inside of the windows. He shouldn’t be allowed to get you so wet by just saying the word. You swallow, clawing back that familiar anger until you feel in control again.

“So then go get it.” You wave your hand around the dark streets of Bogota. “Just go out there and end this thing once and for all. God knows I’m sick and tired of having to listen to you roll around, grunting and huffing, with a hard-on so big I can almost hear it.”

“What are you so mad at me for?” He snaps up, a much more palatable rage in his eyes. “All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!”

“You’re the one who demanded you move into my apartment for the entire duration of this hell! You’re the one who went out and bought two twin beds like a fucking maniac and made me take out my bed to put in your little torture devices to make sure neither of us cheated off the clock!”

“And you agreed to it! I’m not the only insane one here! Sometimes I think you do it on purpose – kicking and fighting with the sheets, moaning in your sleep, rubbing yourself up on the mattress. Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.”

You scoff, but now slightly uneasy. You’ve been moaning in your sleep? Fuck. Taking down your overbearing and egotistical coworker a few pegs was one thing. Becoming roommates with him was something else entirely. About two weeks in, he had come out of the bedroom without his shirt on – he’s been doing that more and more lately – and you had to sit in the bathroom with your hands clamped around the toilet seat for ten minutes straight to keep from finger-fucking yourself on the living room coffee table.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t want to install cameras in the shower just to make sure I’m not jacking off in secret. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there, Javi. You touch yourself once and I win, Javi. Stop looking at my ass when I’m wearing less clothes than a Victoria Secret model, Javi.”

“It’s summer in Bogota, you jackass,” you snipe, particularly ruffled by his high-pitched affectation of you. It stings more than it should because it sounds exactly like the shrill harpy all your male coworkers make you out to be. “What do you want me to wear?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, something terrifying like a smirk crawling across his perfect mouth and you feel the safety of annoyance crumble out from under you. He really is so fucking pretty.

“A puffy snowsuit would be lovely, actually. Arms, legs, all wrapped up. Cover your gorgeous hair in a hat too, if we’re at it. But if I knew you’d wear what I bought you, all you had to do was say so. Women always say I have excellent taste.”

You sigh, again, irritated and desperate to relieve that fist of tension in your shoulders, that gently knotting warmth between your legs. You wonder how much rubbing your crotch with the seam of your jeans you could get away with before he’d say something.

No, fuck, shit – focus. You’ve got to get a grip. This is just like those long night study sessions at the academy. All you had to do was buckle down and get serious about this. Sleep deprivation and curtailing your basic instincts didn’t scare you. You had been outlasting men like Javier your entire life and you weren’t about to get weak-kneed now.

And then something occurs to you that you hadn’t really considered before.

You had been so caught up in your own denial, in fighting your own need to hump your pillow even for a bit of relief – you hadn’t stopped to think what this might be doing to him.

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.

Here's a crack in his resolve and you had seen it. Just for a minute. But it's there. You didn’t have to win so much as to make him lose.

Javier Peña. Nowhere to go and having nothing to fuck made him a very dangerous man. One you could easily exploit. However, and as much as it physically pained you to admit, Javier was smart. Blind-sided by his own horniness, or not, if he caught wind of you purposefully stacking the odds against him, there was no telling what he’d do in retaliation.

For a moment, your sex-deprived brain lounges in the idea of the many forms his retaliation might take.

No – Focus. You lick your lips, wrenching your gaze to the ceiling of the car. You had to be very careful about this.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Go at it from the side. Around back while his attention is focused elsewhere. This was fucking guerilla warfare tactics. Placate him with submission. “I didn’t realize my outfits were bothering you. It’s just . . . it’s been so hot lately. I feel like I wake up, drenched wet in sweat, and it’s just too much still. And then, with this bet, sometimes I wake up and between my legs, I’m so –,”

A fist slams against the inside of the window so hard and so loud it makes you jump. His shoulders hunched, the fist in his lap tight and white-knuckled, he doesn’t even fully open his mouth when he snarls, “Do not . . . under any circumstances . . . finish that fucking sentence.”

He’s breathing heavily, breath skipping between his ribs, and you know you’ve got your opening. Your bottom lip drawn in between your teeth, you’re as much transfixed by his control visibly slipping as you are secretly, darkly thrilled to hear him make those noises. He breathes for a few more times, eyes closed. The sound of rain makes another appearance.

His hands come up to wrap around the steering wheel, as if he were picturing something else flexing beneath his palms.

“I know what you’re doing, or what you think you’re doing. But it’s not going to work. It’s just going to make me mad and I am not above hauling you over my lap and spanking you for being such a tease.”

You aren’t sure what shorts out your brain first: the fact he caught on so quickly, or the mental image he’s painting – and how much you fucking love it. God, when did it get so hot in here? You can feel sweat pooling along the ridge of your spine, under the cups of your bra. As though reading your mind, he shucks off his notorious brown jacket and hurls it into the back seat. Your toes curl in your boots. He’s wearing that white linen shirt that expertly shows off the cut of his biceps, his forearms and is more appropriate for a beach trip in Hawaii than the mean streets of Bogota. In his movement, his infamous sunglasses clatter against his stomach – if he just buttoned his collar all the way up like any man with an ounce of decency, they wouldn’t get in the way as much. You want to tell him that, correct him yet again, but now you can see the sweat shine in his clavicle, skin slightly pink and feverish over the hollow of his throat. You had no idea you affected him this much.

“You’re right. This is ridiculous.” He huffs, tossing back his glasses too before flopping back against the seat. “This can’t be healthy, at least. Edging ourselves for weeks at a time. I keep seeing tits in the clouds.”

“So then end it already.” You don’t mean to sound breathless – it’s the opposite of what you want – but your heart rate still hasn’t settled over the idea of Javier spanking you till your ass is red. He’s so much bigger than you, broader. He’d do it rough, if you asked, you know he would. You really hate to sound like you’re begging, but maybe you are. His eyes snap open wide at your near whimper. “Javi, please. We’re not going anywhere. He’s been in there for hours and he’s not coming out any time soon. Just unbutton your pants – I can just watch you – drop your hand in your underwear and –,”

A hand that can cup you nearly from ear to ear flies across the console and claps over your mouth. Something’s changed about him. You can see it in his eyes. At this point in your partnership, you had become fairly good at identifying his emotions, given there were only a handful he ever cycled through: tired, irritated, bored, furious, frustrated, disappointed. But this . . . this is different. His shoulders still face forward, arm reached out over the console, but his thick eyebrows arch down, as if he’s considering something. His head is cocked slightly to the side. You have to stop yourself from breathing in a sigh when his tongue wets his bottom lip.

“I’ll willingly lose this godforsaken bet on one condition,” he rasps out. His hand is warm, all consuming, you can barely breathe under it. You train your entire focus into the way his hair flops over his forehead to keep from whining at what his deep voice does to your lower half. Your muscles clench and your neglected pussy drools. Fuckin’ traitor. “And the condition is, that after this is done, after this fucking doomed stakeout is finally over, I drive us home and you let me rail you against our couch. How does that sound?”

You squeak, once. That’s it, but you can already feel that tell-tale hum, that warmth that almost itches, taking root below your stomach. His eyebrows arch in surprise, in victory, that smirk threatening to make an appearance. Your nails dig into the pleather seat – you want to thrash back, to get out from under the weight of his hand, to snark back a litany of responses that are not only mean but belittling – but you don’t.

You know he can feel you swallow and his eyelids hover halfway as he licks his bottom lip. He shifts, elbow now pressing against the back of the seat, his weight leaning forward, almost pressing down on you. His other hand is dangerously close to your knee.

“I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and eat that wet little pussy for as long as you want. Lick and suck that attitude right out of your cunt.”

The car is too small, too cramped. Heat is washing over you in waves and the ache between your thighs is burning. With him this close, you can smell his cologne, the cologne that you rib him endlessly for because you’ve watched women inhale it like a pheromone as he passes down the hall. The scent now floods your senses, choking out everything that isn’t him, and your fingers dig up around his wrist, to pry him off you. You can feel sweat trickle down your temple onto his pinkie over your cheek. He watches it with his eyes, hungry and ready to devour. You have to wrestle back some semblance of control, or else your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

With all the strength left over from keeping yourself from bucking your hips up into the center console, you shove him back across the car.

“You fucking . . . stay over there,” you croak, gulping down air as if you had been deprived. He sprawls back, arms outstretched across the window ledge and the back of his seat. “Don’t ever fucking t-touch me again. Those things y-you said. I should report you–,”

“Why?” he chuckles. “You liked it. Thought you were going to eat me there for a minute . . . and I would’ve let you.”

It’s remarkably easy how your white-knuckled, lightning-sparked anticipation for him to do exactly what he said he’d do quickly morphs into a near-blinding rage. He doesn’t get it – he still doesn’t get it – he thinks this all a fucking game, when every minute of every day, your entire self-worth was put on the line.

But this is how you danced with him – right up to the edge, barking, screaming, yelling, then when it got real, or even almost real, you backed down. And he knew it.

“You really deserve someone who knows what they’re doing,” he continues. He folds his arms across his chest, grinning wildly. “Maybe that would teach you to be nice. Is that why you’re so nasty all the time? Someone who cares about you to properly stuff up that sweet little pussy in the way you need it?”

You feel fire crackle up and down your spine, plunging low to lick your insides every time he muses about the state of your cunt, then sky-rocketing back into this rage you’ve built out like walls.

It’s your turn to twist in the seat, to push against the windows as if you could expand and break out from this twisted scrap of metal that kept you chained to him.

“This is not about sex, Javier.” Your teeth ache from grounding out the words. “This is about proving to every single man out there that I deserve to be here. That I’m not just some cock-struck idiot who falls to her knees just because you snap your fingers. I don’t care what you think I need or what you want to do to me. I don’t care because until I come out of this bet the winner, all they’ll ever see is a pair of tits who negs them to do their fucking jobs.”

That wipes the smirk instantly off his face.

His eyes go soft and that might be worse than when he threatened your cunt.

“You think I don’t respect you.” It wasn’t a question but a surprised, almost hurt, statement. He sits up as best he can while still facing you. You were both irate and appreciative that you didn’t have to put it all into words. Words that would make you, again, feel like an overly emotional wimp. Someone with feelings. “You think I’m doing this – that I’m still doing this – because I want to humiliate you.”

You wait in silence for the pricking in your throat to subside before continuing on. “Is that not why? To bend that bitch as far as she’ll go before she breaks so everyone can see how much of a child she really is?”

His nostrils flare. “That’s the second time you’ve called yourself that tonight and I won’t stand for a third. Do you understand?”

His protectiveness flares so fast you aren’t quite sure what to do with it, so you nod.

“Good.”

Javier turns back around, his knees spread outright around the edge of the steering wheel, and picks the packet of cigarettes from underneath the radio. He wheels down the window again, rain spitting inside the inner ledge, and he lights up for the first time all night. His breath is shaky as he exhales through the crack he made. You can’t stop staring at the shine against his throat. What was rain and what was sweat? The golden lights from the store fronts and shops make the curls around his neck glow.

“I’m sorry that by fighting with you, I made you feel inferior. If you can believe it, I actually respect the living shit out of you and I . . .” He taps out ash before dropping his gaze to his lap. “That was never my intention, but Christ alive, you drive me crazy.”

If anyone ever asked, with a gun to your head, what was the one thing that immediately turned you on, you would without question answer with: Javier’s voice. How deep it got when he barked orders. How stern and serious it was when he directed raids and stationed soldiers. How playful it could be when you stopped trying to claw his eyes out.

He inhales slowly, thoughtfully, before blowing out again, fully turning his shoulders away from you as if something he is ashamed to admit is crawling up his chest into his mouth. He presses back against the seat, his unoccupied fingers tapping on his thigh.

“I think you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever met,” he confesses quietly. “Which should be the only opinion that matters, actually. I don’t say that to be egotistical – this bet isn’t about them. It’s between you and me, so fuck them. They’re all idiots and you know that. They know you know that and that’s why they want to take you down. Some men can’t stand it when a woman is smarter than them.”

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth. There is a heady mixture of pride, relief, and lust swirling lower and lower. He thought you were one of the best agents he’s ever met. Your lower half tightens at the praise, especially coming from him. “And you? What do you think?”

Javier grins. He flicks the butt end of the cigarette out the window and rolls it all the way up as he says,

“It’s a fucking turn on, is what I think.” His hips adjust towards you, that obnoxious belt buckle gleaming in the low light. Do not look at his crotch. He presses the backs of his two fingers against his mouth as he watches you. “But I’m not going to let you win this bet because you flutter your pretty eyes at me.”

He knocks his temple against the headrest, gaze shamelessly sweeping up your thighs, your wrists – of course, your tits – your neck and then your lips. You had caught glimpses of this look from him before – when you were reporting to a room full of slobbering men with precision and direction, or when you kneed a suspect into the ground, pinning him down and cuffing him with the other hand or that one time you joined the game of volleyball at the agency picnic in nothing but a sports bra and swim trunks. But now, that unique Javi look that seemed reserved only for you, it barrels down on you in full force – not another agent or superior around the corner to drag his attention away. Without restraint, he let those dirty, nasty little thoughts spring into his mind and you can almost hear the moans you're making in his head.

The desire that had been reduced to a simmer suddenly flares up in a fever pitch. Between your legs, your cunt aches at the mere hint of attention.

“Javier, don’t,” you warn. You try to back away, try to cut the argument in half like you do in the office by storming away down a hallway or into the bathroom or your car. But you can’t. You’re pinned by proximity under the weight of his stare. You’re not even fighting with him and he’s making you angry.

Angry? God, leave it to fucking Javier Peña to prove to you that the line between rage and being outrageously turned on was a razor-thin edge.

“I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he croons. He rounds his shoulders as if trying to lean forward, cover himself with his body. If you couldn’t see the whites of his knuckles around his clasped hands, you would have feared you would have been making this all up. “I’m not touching you, just like you asked.”

“Thank you, Javi,” you squeak out. “Now, please let's just get back to–,”

“I could, though, if you change your mind.” His eyes follow a very predictable path up the curve of your throat. “I could touch you. Are you going to change your mind?”

Even now, on the knife edge, even when he has been extraordinarily honest with you, you can’t make yourself say it. Can’t ask for it.

“It’s against the rules.” Because she's a traitor to you, your cunt leaks when you meet his jet black gaze. You feel the sweat on your neck return so fast you shiver. “I will kick you if you come over here again.”

“You’re so mean to me but, fuck, I love it so much.” He smirks. With mounting horror, you watch as he lifts his hand, the same one that flew over your mouth, up to the lip of the center console. “Here I am pouring my goddamn heart out, and you want to resort to violence.”

Not so much cautious, but more with the slow, syrupy flow of direct and deliberate intention, he brushes the backs of his fingers against your thigh. You jolt back, a muffed gasp caught between your teeth, but you don’t move to snatch his hand away.

He watches your face for any hint of resistance. When he doesn’t find any, he continues, casually flowing the pads of his fingers from the top of your knee, all the way up to your hip.

“Do you wanna know what I think, baby?” He purrs. “I think, somewhere along the way, someone came along and really fucked you up. Hurt you beyond comprehension.” His touch is more insistent now, more of his fingers, his palm occasionally. His thumbs sweeps your inner thigh and your cunt clenches down onto nothing and your teeth ache in your head.

“Javier–,”

His eyes flutter for a minute at the sound of his name tearing through your mouth. “Fuck, you’re getting me distracted . . . what was I saying? Oh, yeah . . . I think someone fucked you up and like the fucking warrior you are, you built up safeguards to never let that happen again.” His eyebrow arches lazily as he palms your waist. By the sheer grace of God, you had tucked your shirt into your pants today, never wanting to give the men in the bullpen the satisfaction of an accidental flash of skin. But Javier just tuts at the intrusion. His knuckles digging into your skin, he pinches out the edge of your shirt, bit by bit. “Problem is, you kept building until you locked yourself in and now you don’t know how to get out. You don’t know how to ask nicely at all.”

His broad palm slides uninterrupted under your shirt, smoothing the rough pads of his fingers across your stomach, and then up to the underwire of your bra. That’s enough to jerk you out of this dizzying haze.

“Javi, you can’t–,” you squeeze your eyes shut, as tight as your cunt, as he threatens to brush his thumb over your teased nipple. “I–I don’t wanna – I don’t wanna lose –,”

“Fuck the bet, sweetheart. You can tell them I lost for all I care. Right now, I just wanna feel you gush between my fingers.”

He doesn’t even need to touch your tit to yank that first moan out of you, but the breeze of his thumb only elongates the noise. Your own hand claps over your mouth this time, to muffle half of that stifled sound.

“None of that now,” he purrs, switching the direction of his hand and going lower on your body. “It’s fine when we’re in public, but here, I want you hoarse from screaming my name as loud as you can.”

“Javi, please–,”

His hips twitch. Twitch so hard they jerk off the seat, the side of his crotch rubbing the steering wheel. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Juuust like that, baby. Keep saying my name just like that.”

His fingers don’t slow down as they breach the waistband of your pants. He didn’t even unzip you so his entire warm hand is shoved right up against your coarse, damp hairs.

“Fuck, is this sweat, baby, or is it from me? Please fucking lie if it's not and tell me it’s for me.”

The pad of his middle finger skims the top of your lips, terrifyingly close to your clit and you finally react. Your clit throbbing, your fingers clamp down on his wrist and he freezes. But he’s panting, breathing harshly across the seat.

“Don’t ask me to stop. Not right now. Please don’t –,”

Your hips buck into his palm and your head drops back against the window. You end up pressing him harder against you and you moan.

“It’s you, Javier, I’m dripping for you.”

“Shit,” he snarls and rubs himself against the steering wheel again, anything to relieve the pressure. His fingers slide around the edges of your puffy, swollen lips, skitters across your pulsating clit, and you nearly orgasm from the direct touch. You jerk back, the denial of your orgasm almost painful, but because your waistband binds him to you, his fingers come with you and you bump into them again. You almost cry out at the intrusion, but his hand is still.

“Can I touch you– c-can I put them inside you, baby – please?”

Tight-lipped, you shake your head furiously, muffling nuh uh between your teeth. He hisses darkly.

“This can’t possibly still be about this stupid fucking bet –,”

“I don’t – w-w-wanna lose – I-I-I don’t wanna lose –,” you swallow, voice breaking, and you yank his hand out from your soaking underwear. You can’t bear to look at his fingertips, assuming from the ocean between your thighs, they’ll come out pruny. But the ache doesn’t go away. It lingers, waiting and lurking for the next touch. It’s been denied too many times tonight. Your head spinning, you gasp for breath for the split second he’ll allow.

“You know, for such a smart woman, you really don’t get what’s best for you.” His other hand finally comes around and grabs your knee, pinning you apart with his broad hand and his other elbow as his fingers dive for the buttons of your pants. You try to shut your legs, but the box at your feet is immovable. “Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.”

“W-w-wait, Javier, that’s not–,”

His gaze pinning you down as much as his weight is, his fingers deftly unzipping your pants, sliding through the opening, and pressing up against your sodden panties. You gasp. It’s relief, painful, throbbing relief, but it comes at the cost of fire licking your spine.

“But that’s not what you need, is it, pretty baby? That’s only part of it. Touching is one thing, but you need someone inside of you, don't you? Need someone to fuck up into that pretty cunt.” Your pussy swollen, you fight to breathe as much as it to fight off your impending orgasm. “Just say thank you, Javi when we’re done, alright?”

Unrelenting and deaf to your cries, his fingers strip back your underwear and finally, finally, finally, he sinks two fingers into your hot, pulsating core. His shoulders shudder as you arch back, letting out a wail. Your thighs quake around the box in front of you.

“‘Is so good. So warm.” He slurs. His hand releases your knee and slides up your hip to palm as much of your ass as he can reach. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He inhales like he wants to haul you over the console into his lap, but that you resolutely cannot allow, because there would be no coming back from that. You can still see the other side of your orgasm, enough to stifle it back down, sequester it. He strokes your inner muscles, in and out, the wet sound obscene – you must be gushing – and he hums. “Listen to that, sweetheart. God, the things I could do with that. Put you over my fucking shoulder, for one.”

Your release is roaring at you, the razor-edge of pain and pleasure digging into the meat of your pussy, as you fight again to deny what you actually really want. You plant your heels, rolling your hips against his fingers because if you were going to fucking lose, you were going to be the one to make you do it. Not him.

And then unprompted, he retreats his fingers and all but shoves them into his mouth. His hips buck up again and he’s not breathing properly. You shudder at the loss of contact but at least the edges of your vision return. God, you’re not sure how much more you can take. But there is some respite, even for a moment. Javi seems to have momentarily forgotten how close he had come to winning.

Saliva and your thready cum dripping from between his lip, Javier sucks on his fingers as if someone were threatening to cut off his hand. His hips bump lazily, distractedly, against the steering wheel as his other hand white-knuckles his knee. He licks his wrist up to the meaty side of his palm, never one to waste excess.

“Fuck, fuck, f-f-fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed. The sight has you flushing again. “I’m gonna eat that cunt whole if it’s the last thing I do. Gonna put you in my lap and bounce you on my cock until you beg me to let you –,”

“Come.” You command, sanity finally snapping as you use the same voice to scold rowdy students at the academy or talkative agents in a presentation. It’s forceful, direct, and you are hoping that it throws him off enough to do exactly that. Come, so you win fair and square. Because that means you can finally come too.

It works.

Or it nearly does.

Javier’s spine goes rigid, hips still, his soaked fingertips hovering inches from his wet lips. His eyes snap open and oh, shit, you’ve done it now, you’ve really done it now. His once blissed out face contorts into that scowl of primal determination that only comes down for raids. For meetings with sketchy CIs. Moments when lives are at stake.

“What did you just say to me?” The growl is more gnarled wolf than human. You immediately back up as far as the car will allow, the front of your pants still undone.

“Javi, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry –,” By his expression, you half-expect him to throw open the door, storm around to your side, yank you to your feet and start fucking you against the car window. Your cunt is throwing a fucking riot at this point. She’s so pissed at you, she’s squeezing so tightly, you think she’ll suck the air right out of you. “I wasn’t thinking – i-i-it just slipped out –,”

He unbuttons two more of his buttons on his shirt and you think, deliriously, he’s going to take his shirt off, but no, he’s just letting more heat escape. More steam rise from his sweaty back. He seems to grow, fill out, until he takes up the entire front seat of the car.

“Please, please, don’t make me come, Javi.” You cry, shrinking back as far as you can. You might actually die from this. From him or a lack thereof. Either way, Javier Peña is going to destroy you.

“I should leave you alone, you know.” He growls. “I should just leave you there to fucking drool into your jeans, smart little cunt knotted up so tight, I could breath on you and make you come. The kind of shit you pulled tonight, you fucking deserve to suffer. But I’m not going to do that and you know why?”

Without warning, his hand snatches around your wrist, yanking you up against the center console. He’s right, you’re so fucking close, the movement rubs you wrong and you squeak again.

Slowly, with superhuman restraint, his nose delicately strokes the underside of your jaw by your ear, then down your neck, as if inhaling the goosebumps that burst out across your skin. You shudder. “J-J-Javi, p-p-please –,”

His other hand slides back up under your shirt, his fingers slotting in between your ribs, your back as arched as it can go. He feels you breath shakily and he closes his eyes. His next words are so soft, spoken so close to your cheek, you can feel the hairs there vibrate with the frequency of his voice.

“I’m not going to do that because I want you to know exactly what the fuck has the secretaries in a goddamn hissy fit over. I want you to think of me and me only every time you try to open your legs for anyone else. I want you to cry in frustration every time you can’t make yourself come with just your fingers because they’re not mine – they’re nowhere close to mine – and I want you to scream in frustration when I don’t pick up the phone. After tonight, I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.”

He pauses, as if expecting an answer, but he couldn’t possibly think you are capable of responding, of dredging actual human thought up out of the murk he held you under. His lips drag gently over the arc of your cheek as he leans into your ear. His voice rumbles and you whine, embarrassed, at the sound alone.

“Because that’s what you’ve done to me.”

No, no, that can’t possibly be right – it’s a trick. It’s a trap. It’s a lie. Javier Peña can’t actually be –

And then, in that same, slow timbre of voice, Javi says,

“I’m gonna finger-fuck you now, okay?”

Any chance of fighting back, of arguing still, is obliterated when his hand shoots back down between your thighs, surges past your underwear, and hooks his fingers up inside you again. This time it’s fast, he’s not waiting for you to gather your sense, he’s going to split you open, here in this fucking Pontiac.

The force of his thrusts make your spine turn to ooze and you drop forward onto his shoulder.

Fine. It’s fine. You’ll fucking lose. Who cares about your precious pride?

You don’t realize you’re whimpering in time with his fingers until you try to say his name. He cups the back of your head, reverently, as he spews more filth into your ear. As if the lewd noises he’s evoking from your pussy isn’t enough.

“I’m going to take care of you, you little sweet cunt. I’m going to take care of you the way no one else has. That’s right, that’s a good little pussy, squealing for me. Hmm, tell me, does she like this?”

His thumb merely brushes your clit, the lone survivor in all of this, and your hips jolt in his hand. He holds you steady against his shoulder. Your fingernails dig into his bicep.

“Oh, yeah, she does. Of course, she does. I can do that for as long as you like, alright?”

That white heat curls your body inwards, tearing your mouth open, and sending your eyes to the back of your head. “JaviJaviJaviJavi – please –,”

He tsks into your ear. “You keep saying that but you never tell me what you’re begging for.”

It’s coming. It’s staggering. It eclipses everything and it’s just out of reach. You feel it start to expand and after all this time, it’s actually a fucking relief to give yourself over. To let yourself be rent asunder by something this huge and overwhelming.

His fingers, the ones not rocketing you towards the biggest orgasm of your life, gently wind up into your hair, sweetly caressing the soft skin behind your earlobe. His voice is quiet, coaxing, kind. His lips almost kiss the ridges of your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll tell you what to say. Say, Javi, I want you to make me come.”

“Javi, I–,”

There’s an explosion.

No, not like that. He’s not that good.

It’s a literal explosion in the street, with flashes of flames and heat that rattle the car. Alarms go off, your vision goes white – because of a pipe bomb stationed out underneath a car parked outside the part-time gambling den, part-time brothel. Javi’s arm flings out in front of you as the car is rocked from the impact. Flames lick the charred out husk of the front of the building. Only when your ears stop ringing, do you finally hear the screaming.

And then patter of bullets.

“Baby, get your gun and stay low!” He roars, as the windshield of the car behind you shatters, the popping of gunfire echoing the distance. He lunges back and grabs his jacket, fumbling for his gun. The panic in his voice shakes you awake and you dig into the glove box for your own handheld.

It’s a firefight for your lives, in the middle of the rain, in the middle of chaos and smoke.

It’s time to go to work.

🤍Part 2

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix

254 notes · View notes

rebeltarot · 6 months

Text

FORECAST ➕ What blessings are coming toward you?

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

[3 piles] ・ [4 decks] ・ [5 cards for each pile] ・ [letters, signs, messages, songs]

Hello love, and welcome to my pick-a-card reading. you can find instructions and my disclaimer below. please read these before choosing your pile.

ⓘ Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction.

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

Painting: Leda and the Swan - François Boucher

Helpful Links: How to choose your pile ➕ Request a reading

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 01 ➕

ⓘ Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

R, E, S, S, 33, Virgo, 5th House, Sun, Taurus, Love Affair, Narrow Eyes, Thin Nose, December, Empowerment, I'm intimidated by you, Dance with me - make me sway, A present, I like naps and you, Live every day with intention

Song: Like Me - Chase Icon

WHAT BLESSINGS ARE COMING TOWARD YOU

Tarot: Page of Wands, The Emperor

Oracle: The Hound, South Node, Self-Worth

Hello, and welcome to your reading Pile 01. Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction. Your blessing relates to a passion that you have—something that inspires you and that you are curious about. This certain area of your life or topic that you are so interested in might feel like it holds limitless potential. It's like the sky is the limit. This passion relates to something where you consider yourself a novice, someone who is still discovering, learning, and maturing. Your blessing is your graduation in this area. You will grow from the Page of Wands, who carries a fierce love and passion, to the emperor, who is successful, steadfast, and confident in his knowledge. The banana on the page card stood out to me. Bananas are associated with fertility, prosperity, spiritual growth, and good luck! Your passions and interests play a bigger role in your life, and your blessing is heavily linked to that. It might even go as far as to relate to something that you have loved and enjoyed ever since you were a kid. For some of you, this could mean that you will turn your passions into a business or career; for others, this could be about your quality of life and confidence in general, though that seems to be a smaller group. The Hound relates to the keyword "pursuit," which immediately made me think of the song "Pursuit of Happiness" by Kid Cudi, especially the line: "I'm on the pursuit of happiness, and I know, everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold." I do feel like you might have been distracted by careers and interests that were considered valuable and honorable in our society, but your blessing is going back to the roots and your authentic passions and interests. You are focusing on the present while utilizing your past, especially the knowledge that you attained when you were still young or even in a past life. Your blessing is that your talents and skills will build your future and, for most of you, your career. You are and will be intensely pursuing an idea or passion that will help you achieve your goals and attain abundance, whatever that means to you. You have previously chosen the path of least resistance, but you are now learning that if there are no hills and valleys, you should be wary of your direction. As mentioned before, your past plays a big role, especially in the passions you have had ever since you were a kid. The number 33 could be of significance to you. This passion that I keep on referring to is something that has never left you, something that has always been on your mind—similar to unfinished business. And you are unable to ignore it now. You have been toying with this idea before, and now you are pursuing it in full force—your passions, your happiness. There could have been people in your life who doubted you and the potential you see in your pursuit; however, the self-worth card is reminding you that you can see more than others can. You can recognize the potential, and in turn, people, events, and material objects are drawn to you. By aiming higher, you are attracting even greater experiences in your life. Your energy will grow, and remember that receiving is action. Stay loyal and true to your curiosity, and you will be greatly rewarded. Journal prompt: How do I relate to the word "deserving"?

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 02 ➕

ⓘ Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

O, P, E, N, C, Scorpio, Mars, 6th House, Leo, Green Eyes, Sincere, Crush, Responsible, Unwanted Change, I want to marry those eyes, I keep falling for the bad ones, You are my true love - my one and only, You are not shrewd enough, Be true to who you are, When you love what you have you have everything you need

Song: Jungle - DillanPonders ft. Ruby Waters

WHAT BLESSINGS ARE COMING TOWARD YOU

Tarot: Page of Pentacles, 7 of Cups

Oracle: The Three-Toed Sloth, Midheaven, Gratitude

Hello, and welcome to your reading Pile 02. Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction. Your blessing relates to choice, especially in your career life. You are quite an ambitious person, someone who is industrious and goal-oriented. You seem to be new in your career. This might relate to the industry you're in or the job you're doing. Either way, your work ethic, and your diligence have led you to attract options in your life. These options represent different great opportunities that are opening up for you. However, you might be still searching for your purpose. These choices that are presented to you are urging you to realize what it is that you want. They are guiding you to search for your purpose. I feel like thus far you have been quite consistent with what you are doing and with the industry you are in. However, you might be stuck in a rut. "I just want to be alone and quiet in a room with a chair, a fireplace, and a tea cozy. I don't even know what a tea cozy is, but I want one." This is a quote from Buffy (TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer). There is this urge within you to take a break and go for the unknown. You have this inner calling for something that you do not understand yet. A vacation could bring you the clarity that you need. Stepping away from your usual stressors and your daily rut will bring you a much-needed break that will eventually lead to a breakthrough. You will be inspired to break the mold and to look for an abundant source of life and energy that refills you daily. During this much-needed break, you will get the opportunity to reflect on your professional reputation and what it truly means to you to be successful. You will take responsibility for your authority, replacing learned definitions of concepts such as success with your understanding of them—a definition that fulfills you, inspires you, and makes you happy. I feel like you will reawaken an ambition that might not make sense to others but fulfills you deeply. Whatever hidden dream you've been carrying with you will come to the forefront, and it will guide you towards your potential. Your blessing is that you will be recognized and appreciated for your genuine self and dreams, as well as your authentic achievements. You will be living out your potential and experiencing deep love and gratitude. Journal Prompt: What does success mean to me? Who is the person I admire most, and why?

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

PILE 03 ➕

ⓘ Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

I, I, E, E, A, Libra, 7th House, Sun, Throat Chakra, Heart Chakra, Equal relationship, Hurt people hurt people, I'm becoming the best version of myself, Now that you have me do you want me still, I can't really explain it - I'm so into you, Guests coming - Means trouble, Your next love affair will surprise you, Do not wait too long before saying "Yes", So much fun

Song: More - K/DA

WHAT BLESSINGS ARE COMING TOWARD YOU

Tarot: 10 of Swords, Page of Pentacles

Oracle: The Toad, Moon, Forgiveness

Hello, and welcome to your reading Pile 03. Please remember that a "blessing" can be anything that protects us, makes us happy, or points us in the right direction. This is such a beautiful pile, wow. The 10 of Swords talks about painful endings, betrayal, and deep wounds, but it also signifies the ending of a cycle. Whatever is represented by the 10 of swords, it cut you deep, and it might have felt like you were drowning in your pain. With the page of pentacles following the 10 of swords, I can see that your blessing is you becoming and growing into a new and pure person. Someone loyal to their principles and values. Someone who, despite their pain, does not harbor resentment or hurt but instead focuses on their intentions. You are diligently working on yourself and your healing journey. Pentacle energy relates to foundational matters and earthly manifestations. It's where your subconscious meets your ego. Obviously, this is and will be quite new to you, as we have an ending here and a new beginning represented by the page, but you will be able to achieve your goals and stay loyal to yourself. This positivity will attract new and pure connections in your life. "If more of us valued food, cheer, and song above hoarding gold, it would be a merrier world." A quote from the book "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien. I feel like your previous ways of dealing with this wound focused on the future and the next best thing. Arriving and living in the present moment could have felt unsafe to you. There is or was a lack-mindset here that had you focused on what you were missing, leading you to hold onto things that weren't good for you or that weren't serving a purpose in your life. This does not have to relate to material things; it could talk about careers, connections, pursuits, etc. Your blessing is that you will learn to observe things clearly as they are. You will reconnect to your subconscious and work with the ebbs and flows of your emotions, honoring your current phases and working within those cycles. You will look to your feelings and intuition rather than your logic. The way you see and perceive the world will drastically change, and in turn, it will release and free you from the shackles of your past hurt and pain. By not harboring resentment and focusing on your intentions, you will reconnect with your sense of self. Your blessing is healing. It is self-forgiveness and a sense of belonging. You will be fulfilled, and you will realize that holding onto and following a dream only satisfies you if you focus on the present and gratefully work with what you have. Journal Prompt: Can I forgive myself for loving people who hurt me?

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #tarot community #free tarot readings #tarot readers #forecast #predictions #tarot of tumblr #free tarot #pick an image #tarot readings #divination #witchblr #spiritual community #tarot reading #tarot #channeled messages

282 notes · View notes