#i’m typing this with my eyes half closed and without my glasses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemissmentallyunstable · 2 months

Text

title: starstruck

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you’re an actress and you’ve got through a few auditions got your dream roll, the next thing that comes up is a chemistry test that doesn’t quite go as you had planned

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mild swearing, really intense make out session, mention of sexual tension

a/n: this is the jameson equivalent to paparazzi for grayson, thanks for reading 🤍🤍

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

You sit alone at the bar, drinking a margarita. Your friend had bailed on you last minute but seen as you were already dressed up you decided to go anyway. Why waste all that effort? Besides you deserved this. Tomorrow is a big day, you needed some time to sit back, relax, enjoy some drinks and breathe. Mid sip of your margarita, you catch the eye of someone across the room. He has tousled dark hair, unruly yet it suited him quite well and striking green eyes. Those green eyes sent something through you, the ghost of a shiver down your spine that sent warmth into your body. There was something about those eyes… You quickly look away, not letting your gaze linger for too long, you need to stay focussed. You stare at your drink, your fingers subconsciously playing with the glass as you think about the future that may come if tomorrow plays out the way you would like it to.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

His voice is low and alluring and reels you in from deep thought. It might’ve made you jump, if you weren’t so fixated on where your mind was running off to. You look up to see it’s the man you’d made eye contact with previously. Close up, he looks even more attractive. Steady jawline, wicked smile, bold eyebrows, striking features. He is quite tall, even when he sits beside you it’s noticeable. He’s really very gorgeous and at any other point in your life, meeting a guy like him would’ve been perfect. But now wasn’t the time for guys, now was the time to focus on getting your career back on track.

“No thank you,” you say, a certain sharpness in your tone. You wanted to make it very clear you were saying no.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one of his dashing eyebrows raised a little.

Oh… so he was the stubborn type, this should be entertaining.

“I’ve got one,” you say, holding up your half-empty margarita.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he nods, ordering himself something. His drink arrives in a matter of minutes, that’s when he turns and says, “I couldn’t help but notice you from over there.”

His head jerks to where he had previously been standing. You decide you fancy playing with him a little, seeing how easy it’d be to break his cool, flirty facade. Some men needed to be humbled and he seems like one of them.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that,” you ask, expecting a delayed answer or not one at all.

“Because you’re breathtaking,” he answers almost immediately, staring into my eyes.

You’d expected him to fumble but he’d turned the tables. He’s bold and unafraid, vulnerability didn’t scare him. You searched for a witty, uninterested reply but your brain is still hooked in the compliment from this handsome stranger, “I’m not interested,” you blurt out. The words fall from your mouth without you even thinking.

“Straight to the point,” he coughs, his ego probably a little bruised, “that’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you scowl at him. No better way to deter a man than scowling, but he didn’t seem to be too deterred.

“I could make you interested you know,” he shrugs, “if you gave me a chance?”

“The smell of male desperation is so…” you take a moment to find the right set of words, “pathetically pungent.”

“Who says I’m desperate?” he asks, cocking his head to one side, a graceful yet annoying smirk plastered on his lips.

“I told you I’m not interested and yet you’re still here,” you reply cooly.

“I like challenges, call me a player of sorts,” he explains, “riddles, mind games, secrets, I love the lot.”

“Well here’s a riddle for you then… what has two eyes, a margarita in her hand and isn’t interested in you at all?” you force a sickly sweet smile.

“My great aunt,” he replies, smiling right back.

“I don’t think you’re as good at these riddles as you thought,” you criticise, taking another swig of alcohol.

“And I don’t think you’re uninterested,” he tells me, “body language speaks volumes sweetheart-“

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you snap suddenly, raising your voice a little louder than you’d intended.

“You’re facing completely toward me, your posture is open, you’re looking directly at me and you occasionally scan over the rest of my body,” he says, “if you were uninterested that wouldn’t be happening. Not to mention our eyes kept meeting from across the room.”

You smile slightly and then swivel around on your chair so your back is completely towards him. You hunch over wishing you had some sunglasses to reinforce the no eye contact thing.

“How’s this for body language,” you call, not even looking over your shoulder to see his reaction.

“I much prefer looking at your face but the back of you is a perfectly nice view as well,” he says smoothly. Well, wasn’t that annoying.

Your cheeks heat up and you spin back around, “please leave me alone.”

“Alone…” he ponders, “not with anyone?”

“My friend is in the bathroom,” you lie quickly.

“She’s been there for a while,” he raises an eyebrow.

“And how would you know that?” you question, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“Because I’ve watched you for a while,” he shrugs in response.

“You do realise that just makes you sound like a massive stalker-ish creep right?” you ask, trying not to laugh a little.

“Let me reword then…” he pauses, “I’ve observed you.”

“I think that’s worse,” you tell him, finishing the last of your drink, before getting up to leave.

As you begin to walk away, the man begins to follow you. Like a bad smell, you think, mentally rolling your eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I’m leaving,” you reply, ice cutting through your tone.

“Bit early to be leaving,” he says, checking his watch. You sneak a glance, it’s expensive.

“I have work tomorrow,” you shrug, picking up your walking pace.

“What do you do?” he attempts.

“I’m leaving,” you repeat, firmer and flatter this time.

“Without my number?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say bluntly, as if he’d asked you whether the sky was blue.

“What about your friend? In the bathroom?” he taunts, a pathetic attempt of a joke.

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes and debate slapping him across the face. You decide not to, just this once and make your way down the outdoor staircase. Cabs awaited at the bottom and you intend to catch one. Unfortunately Mr a-bit-too-obsessed seems to intend to catch up with you.

“Let me pay for your cab,” he offers suddenly, when you’re nearly at the bottom.

“Absolutely not,” you scoff, laughing a little at his sheer boldness.

“Please?” he asks, as you reach the bottom of the staircase.

“No, piss off, I’m uninterested, remember?” you shout, opening the cab door, shooting a smile at the driver before turning back to the man.

He’s caught up now and was stood all but a meter away, “uninterested, yet your eyes keep grazing over my lips.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you almost laugh, “as if you can see what my eyes are doing in the dark.”

“I see everything,” he smirks, the upturned corners of his mouth annoyingly attractive.

“Goodbye,” you deadpan, slamming the door.

“Bye sweetheart,” he calls, “and the name’s Jameson by the way.”

***

The next morning, you arrive at the studio a few minutes early and wait outside. The nervous excitement was roaring around inside of you as you stared at the sky. This was your dream job, what you’d worked to get to for as long as you could remember. You wanted this more than anything. If you landed this role it made all the turned down auditions, all the tears, all the times you almost quit, all those minuscule commercial jobs, it made it all worth it. Last year, when you’d landed a job on TV show and gotten a little taste of fame you’d felt on top of the world. Working on a big piece like that was an entirely new experience and one that you wanted to experience again, especially as this character was a character that you personally connected to.

Going to that first audition had probably been the scariest moment of your life and you’d come out convinced you’d messed the whole thing. But to your utter shock and surprise you had gotten a callback… and then a second. You’d made it this far. You didn’t want to blow it now.

But you’d be lying if you told yourself the audition was the only thing on your mind today. A certain man from a bar also seemed to be encircling your thoughts paths, aggravatingly frequently. You don’t know why he’s such a prominent thought but you try to avoid it. He’s a little too distracting for a day as important at this.

Soon enough, the casting director walks out and spots you, beckoning you in. With a small smile you walk in and find a set with cameras being ect up in front of it. The set looks to be a standard bedroom, with a single bed, shelves, a wardrobe, beside table and lots of other little nicknacks scattered around.

“Hello, thanks for coming,” he says, as he shakes your hand firmly.

“Thank you for the callback,” you smile, with a little laugh on the end.

“You’re doing a chemistry test today,” he explains.

The sentence takes you off guard a little. Of course you’d done chemistry tests before but suddenly you felt a little unprepared. Today you’d expected to act alone, but now you were relying on someone else to bring out your performance as well.

You look around, “Where’s the other person?”

“Apparently he’s running late,” the director replies, checking his watch.

“Oh,” you murmur, your heart sinking just a little.

“But don’t he should be here soon,” he nods, “there’s a few seats over there, if you want to sit down and get yourself ready.”

“Isn’t there a script?” you ask, curiously.

“You won’t need one,” the director replies.

“Oh,” your brow furrow, “is it like improv?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you reply sceptically, your mind running through ideas about what it could be that you were doing

You sit yourself down the chairs and begin to do something to distract your mind. Reciting song lyrics usually did the trick. It killed time and made you think. Half way through one of the songs you’d been listening to at the moment the doors burst open from across the room. Your eyes snap up to see a man at the door. Must be the person who was running late.

As your eyes skim over him, you get a funny feeling wash over you. You immediately recognise that mess of dark hair and bold green eyes. You wrack your brain as to where it is that you remember them from. And then it hits you, like a punch to the stomach. The man from the bar last night, Jameson, you recall him shouting after your taxi.

This just can’t be happening.

Of course the only person you had a chemistry test with today was the one person you had zero chemistry with whatsoever. But it didn’t matter, you thought, you were still going to perform at your best and show these directors that you deserved this.

So you make a plan. To do what you think is the smartest thing to do in this situation. You decide to play dumb. He was probably drunk and wouldn’t remember your face, like you’d remembered his. You convince yourself you don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. You’re just two strangers, two actors, who have to do a scene. The director waves you over and suddenly your legs ae just moving towards him. Your heart thuds in your chest as you approach.

It was definitely him. Those green eyes couldn’t belong to anybody else. Without the darkness of the night, he looked even better. He was bolder and brighter like this. His facial features were even more beautiful than you’d originally thought, no wonder he was in the running for a role. The fan girls would go crazy over this guy.

“Jameson, meet y/n,” the director says, gesturing to you, “I’ll let you two get to know each other a little whilst we finish setting up.”

You look at him, wondering if you should start the conversation to manipulate it how you wanted or whether you should let him. Though you don’t get much of a chance to analyse it as he already begins.

“I know you,” he says.

Well shit. You didn’t actually expect him to remember you. This put your plan in a bit of a fragile situation. But nevertheless, you stuck with it. Fake to ‘til you make it.

“I don’t think you do,” you say, adding a hint of confusion into your voice

“I know your face,” he insists.

Stubborn. You observe. He’s stubborn, just like last night. Well, you were stubborn too, so you continued with your little act.

“No you don’t,” you reply, with a little laugh on the end.

“I hit on you,” he says calmly, too calmly for your liking.

You almost choke on your own spittle. He really remembers last night then.

“I’m sorry!” you ask.

“Last night at the bar,” he continues cooly.

“I don’t drink,” you say simply, attempting to shut down the conversation.

“I saw you have two margaritas, don’t lie,” he says, that got awful handsome devilish smirk dancing on his face.

The smirk that makes your stomach flutter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying to stay as stubborn as he.

“You know you look so much better in this lighting, sweeheart,” he grins.

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

The reaction was immediate and sudden, you have no control over it whatsoever. It’s like a deadly instinct.

“Oh so you do remember me?” he says, the smile now laced within his voice.

“Maybe I do,” you grit through your teeth, “but I declined you the first time, you’re a little brave to try again,”

“I am brave,” he tells me, “it’s one of my many green flags.”

“Such a shameless flirt,” you tusk, with an eye roll.

“Is that your type?” he wonder coyly.

“No,” you reply, blunt and sharp.

“What a pity,” he pouts with his pretty lips.

You choose not the say anything else. The conversation has run its course and ended. It’s better that way, when the two of you were not talking. That way he couldn’t make you feel anything. No flutters, no warmth. That’s the way it should be.

“I never knew you were an actress,” he says suddenly.

“And I never knew you were an actor,” you counter, mirroring the way he said it as well as his words.

“It’s really more of a hobby than a career path,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Well some people are serious about this stuff,” you say, a certain fierceness brought out in your voice.

“Are you some people?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.

“Why does that matter?” you snap, not meaning to be so defensive all of a sudden. He didn’t need to know that you cared.

“Because it matters,” he says simply.

“Look I really want this part and I swear to god if you mess it up for me I will…. rip your head off or something,” you explain.

“I think you’ll get it,” he replies.

“What?”

“The part,” he clarifies.

“Why?”

“We’re about to do a chemistry test,” he shrugs, hands in his pockets.

“I’m aware,” you reply, your tone a little dead.

“So let’s show them what we’re best at,” Jameson shoots you a grin.

“Arguing?” you ask.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “having chemistry.”

“You must be out of your mind if you think we have chemistry,” you say.

“I’m out of my mind in love with you,” he replies.

Your cheeks immediately radiate heat and you can hear your heart drumming loudly in your ears. How dare he make you feel this way with just his stupid words.

“Oh shut up, that’s such a bad line,” you roll your eyes, pretending you were unbothered.

“I think you secretly liked it,” he whispers in your ear, a tingle going down your spine.

“You’re thinking wrong again,” you murmur.

“You’re definitely writing it in a pink fluffy diary and drawing love hearts around it,” he mocks, amusement in his tone.

“Have you been watching teenage girl movies or something?” you ask, slight notes of disgust and concern in your voice.

He doesn’t get a chance to bite back as the director walks towards us both and begins to explain what we’re doing today.

“So today we’re just testing out for good kissing chemistry,” the director explains.

“Kissing?” you repeat, jaw slack.

“We just want to film a few shots of you guys kissing to see if it’s a good match or not,” he explains further.

“I have to kiss him?” you clarify, trying not to portray your mortification on your face.

“Yes that is the general idea,” he deadpans at you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

“Will that be a problem?” he asks, judgmental eyebrows raised high into his forehead.

“Not at all,” Jameson almost sings, bearing his teeth for a witty smile.

“No,” you grit through your teeth.

“Brilliant, should we get started then?” the director asks.

You both nod, annoyingly in sync and then make your way to the bedroom set.

“Did you plan this?” you hiss, as you get set up, so no one else could hear.

You can’t help yourself. The curiosity was gnawing at you. Could he really have wanted a kiss that badly to plan all of this?

“Yes I came in here and told the director to change his whole schedule so we could kiss,” he rolls his eyes sarcastically.

You opt for silence.

“Obviously not!” he exclaims, “look I know you thought I was a creep but that’s a whole new level-“

“Sorry,” you blurt out, “I was only curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, did it not?” Jameson says, his mouth twisting into a familiar smile.

“Maybe it was a stupid cat,” you murmur.

“Or maybe it was a smart cat that was a little too curious,” he replies.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you say, your voice low and slow.

“I guess we won’t,” he murmurs back, a level of seduction in his tone, that causes heat to rise in your face.

You are directed to be positioned with your back on the make-shift set wall with Jameson standing over you. The cameras were twisted and turned around you, capturing all angles needed. You brace yourself ignoring how hard you are breathing and how much your heart is thumping in your chest.

“ACTION.”

He makes the first move and presses his lips onto yours, his hands cupping your face. The motion is very gentle, delicate almost, making you feel fragile. His lips so soft and smooth and you find myself not only kissing back, but wanting to. He tastes indescribably addictive and after that first gentle kiss you don’t think you can get enough. You want to taste this every day of my life. You close your eyes, discarding any previous hesitation you’d had about this experience and start to enjoy it.

Slowly his hands slip around your waist, his soft touch surprising you a little. Your arms meet around his neck. You don’t break for breath. You and him have come to the silent agreement that breathing doesn’t seem to matter anymore. You’ve never felt so positively sure of something that you want until this very moment moment. He pushes his lips harder against yours and you follow suit. The kiss deepens as he hums in pleasure. A low hum right from the back of his throat. It takes you off guard slightly but you move past it and keep kissing his pretty little lips. It’s like a dance, driven off of feeling for music and movement of the body.

You want to know every crevice, every morsel and every surface of his lips. You want to know what they desire and how to give it to him. You could feel his heartbeat thumping due to the closeness of your chests. He’s intense but you like it. You like the intensity of this moment and how your mind was so wrapping up in it you couldn’t think of anything else. You loved the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kiss again, deepening it further and then…

Desperation takes over and suddenly you’re both ravenous for one another. Feverishly kissing rough and passionate kisses. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer to him, so you’re pressed right up against his body. Your hands now find themselves deep within his hair, clinging to chunks of it. You feel so violent that you fear you might pull some out. The kiss is now savage in a delightful kind of way that you never would have imagined. You wanted him to bite your lip so hard it drew blood, you wanted the heat, you wanted the frenzied feelings.

But then the movement slows again, he lets you know he wants a gentler approach. He slows down the kiss and really feels your lips, almost tickling them. It’s like he’s teasing you in the best way possible. His lips of velvety soft, brushing against your own. You let your kisses fall into a more soothing, delicate rhythm, tenderising each one’s, tailoring it to be even softer than the last and-

“CUT.”

You’d forgotten this was just a scene, just a chemistry test. You’d forgotten where you were or why you were there. Your mind had been paralysed by his lips. So lost within emotion and lust and love. Love? Suddenly you’re angry, angry at him for doing this to you, making you forget who you were for a moment, for having that kind of power. And yet, when the director yells cut, your lips still linger.

You finally break away, breathing heavily. You stare into his green eyes, your lips still tingling, your tongue still craving another taste. You look away, you can’t bear to meet his eyes for fear you might attempt something stupid. The devil is in his eyes and he’s reaching out to your heart. That isn’t a position you were prepared to be in

“Well if I’m not mistaken,” he grins, chest moving up and down as he too is out of breath, “that’s felt like chemistry to me.”

“Maybe you’re mistaken then,” you lie.

“I could feel your heart beating sweetheart-“

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you almost yell.

“It was beating real hard,” he finishes, still not quite caught his breath back.

You finally look up and he is already there to meet your gaze. You don’t even bother to answer him. You just continue to get lost into the deep forests and the stories they told.

“Thank you guys, that was brilliant, absolutely spectacular, I could just feel the sexual tension through the screen, which is exactly what we’re looking for,” the director says.

You can feel Jameson smirking from behind and it’s bugging you. You don’t want there to be sexual tension between you and him, you don’t want there to be anything between you and him other than a brick wall right now. You hate the way your cheeks are ruby red and how your heart rate can’t seem to slow because you know he’s there, behind you.

“Would you mind both coming back in tomorrow so we can test out an actual scene rather than just a kiss?” the director asks.

You ponder it for a moment, you could decline, never come back, lose this job and never see Jameson again. But lose your dream role for a guy who’s pissing you off? Absolutely not. You didn’t get this far for someone like him to get in the way.

Jameson hasn’t replied yet. You assume he is waiting for you to answer first to make his decision .

“I’ll be there,” you say firmly.

“And so will I,” Jameson winks.

“Perfect, thanks you two!” The director smiles, walking back off.

Once he’s completely out of the way you let out a long breath and close your eyes. You’d gotten through yet another day of auditions and you would be back tomorrow. If this goes well then you get all that you want. That’s all that matters.

“See you tomorrow,” he grins at you, flashing his brilliant emerald eyes, “sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You didn’t protest to the nickname this time. Lord help you tomorrow.

a/n: I can’t lie, I don’t really like what I’ve written here but thought I’d post it anyways. Something about it is just… bleh. I might do a rewrite at some point???

thank you to whoever requested this, sorry I took me a little while and also sorry it wasn’t that good… thanks for your patience 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

#jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson x reader #jameson hawthorne x you #the inheritance games #tig #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #love to write #writing

54 notes · View notes

ghoulodont · 5 months

Text

Full Sour

Mushy May 2024 — late night snacks. Dewdrop tries something new.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Words: 1045

Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows

Read below or on AO3

Somehow, it’s the unexpected stillness of the bus, the absence of the usual rattle of highway travel, that pulls Rain from his half-sleep in his bunk. He turns on his phone screen and peeks at it, one eye closed against the brightness — it’s past three in the morning. He has almost convinced himself to just roll over and wait for sleep to claim him fully when he hears the telltale rustling of someone else getting out of their bunk.

When he slides his privacy curtain partway open, just a few inches to one side, he makes inadvertent eye contact with Dewdrop — the source of the noise, now stood in the aisle between the rows of bunks. Dew doesn’t say anything, just tips his head to the side as if he’s asking a question. Then he turns and walks out of view, in the direction of the front lounge.

Suddenly, sleep is far away. Rain crawls out of his bunk.

Dew is waiting just outside the bus. The nighttime air is cool and scented with gasoline and exhaust. A truly formidable rest area building looms at the end of the parking lot — the kind with restaurants and shops, a glowing retail oasis. The light from it, and from the tall, spindly light poles, like metal palm trees, accentuates the structure of Dew’s face — brow, nose, cheekbones.

“Were you going to go inside?” Rain asks him.

Dew shrugs, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, just stretching my legs, I guess.”

Rain nods. Then, after a pause, “We could go walk around in there?”

Dew shrugs again.

If Dew won’t make a decision, Rain will. He starts walking towards the building and Dew follows without missing a beat.

Inside is a dining area surrounded by fast food restaurants, all shuttered for the night, and one convenience store. Rain has found himself growing a soft spot for this kind of place — not the food court, but this particular type of store found along the highway peddling souvenir nonsense, magnets in the shape of states, shirts with local landmarks. The location changes, but the items stay the same — swap out one state for another. It’s comforting in a way, a reminder that you’re always somewhere.

Dew wanders off at some point between the novelty shot glasses and the miniature teddy bears. Once Rain has had his fill of overpriced knickknacks, he takes a detour through the candy aisle to pick up a bag of sour gummy worms — the ones Dew always says are “not even sour” — before meeting back up with him.

On the other side of the store, Dew is standing in front of an open refrigerator case, lit by its fluorescent glow. As Rain gets closer, he watches as he picks up an enormous pickle, entombed in its own brine in a clear plastic pouch, and flips it around to read the back of the package.

He looks up as Rain approaches him. “Aren’t you curious about these?”

Rain wrinkles his nose involuntarily. “No?”

“But you like pickles.”

He does like pickles, generally, yes. “Yeah, but not pickles in a… plastic bag.”

Dew frowns at him.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t eat anything from this case.” Rain scans the shelves. His gaze lands on an unappealing plastic cup of anemic melon chunks.

“Whatever. I want to try it,” Dew says. “You getting anything else?”

Rain looks down at the bag of gummy worms in his hand. He shakes his head.

Dew leads the way to the checkout counter. Soon, their meager haul is paid for and they’re heading back to the bus.

Once they’re in the front lounge, Dew stops in his tracks and begins to tear the plastic at the top of the pickle pouch.

“You’re actually going to eat that? Or is it some kind of joke?” Rain watches as Dew finishes tearing the pouch open and pulls the pickle halfway out of its packaging. The way he holds it wrapped in its own torn skin is reminiscent of some sort of corrupted banana.

“I’m going to eat it right now.” Dew sits down on the couch, leaning back lazily. He pats the seat next to him.

Rain sits. He might as well see what’s going to happen.

Dew brings the pickle up to his face. He sniffs it. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully.

“Could be crunchier,” is his verdict.

Rain’s face pulls into a concerned frown.

“Want some?” Dew offers. He extends the pickle out towards Rain. The inside of it is vibrantly yellow-green, the same color as the brine in the bag, the toxic pickle embalming fluid it’s been sitting in.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, it’s good.” Dew takes another bite, a bigger one this time, then holds the pickle out again.

Some little piece of Rain wonders if it really would taste good. Looking at Dew’s face, his very sincere expression, brows raised slightly, makes his brain short circuit.

Rain sniffs the pickle. It smells like vinegar and a hint of plastic, or something chemical. He briefly wonders what formaldehyde smells like. He takes a small bite.

Before he can process what’s going on, he suddenly is holding an unchewed bite of pickle in his cupped hand. He shivers involuntarily, his whole body unexpectedly wracked by every known flavor packed into a piece of limp cucumber.

“Why is it spicy?” is the first thing he thinks to say. It comes out a forceful, hissed whisper.

“Because— What did you think ‘hot pickle’ was going to mean?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t know pickles could be spicy!” Rain blinks hard and sniffles wetly.

Dew turns the pickle package around to look at the front of it, then flips it back around again and shows it to Rain. He points to a small decal that reads “Hot & Spicy Flavor”.

“I— Okay, well, I didn’t read that part,” Rain squeaks.

Dew shushes him, eyes flicking toward the bunk area. Then he leans back against the sofa and takes another bite from his pickle.

“Are you seriously going to eat all of that?”

“Yeah, look, zero calories.” He shows the back of the package this time, where the nutrition facts are.

“That’s not what I was worried about.”

Dew shrugs and takes another bite.

#ghost band fanfic #mushy may 2024 #this is a serious achievement for me as someone who takes weeks if not months to write anything. i made it with 2.5 hours to spare #i will be doing maybe 3-5 prompts total #fic i wrote

72 notes · View notes

sanjisbby · 1 year

Text

MIRROR | Vinsmoke Sanji

warnings: nsfw, mdni, f!reader, fingering, edging, mirror sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, english is not my first language.

word count: 1,602

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Look at yourself.” Sanji grabs your jaw to make you face the mirror in front of the both of you. On the reflection, you see your naked self with your fully clothed boyfriend behind you, you are sitting on the floor in between his legs, your legs are spread open with two of his fingers inside you that are smeared with your wetness. You have your head leaned on his shoulder, a couple of your hair strands are sticking to your sweaty face, and you are breathing heavily. Sanji has been teasing and edging you for about half an hour. Everytime you’re about to come, he stops his movement.

How did you end up in this position? Well.. as a cook on the ship, it’s normal for Sanji to be busy all day. He wakes up at 5 am to make breakfast for the crew, which you’re still asleep, then after breakfast he’s cleaning the dishes and the kitchen, the same goes for lunch and dinner time. When the crew, especially Luffy, is asking for snacks, obviously Sanji is the one who's going to make it. And by the time he goes to bed at 11 am, he’s very exhausted. Not to mention if he’s on the watching duty at night, that means even less time to spend together. His busy schedule affects your sex life too. The both of you haven’t done it in a month. And let me tell you, you are hungry for this man, starving even.

You were going to grab a glass of water when you saw your boyfriend in the kitchen, making dinner. He’s wearing a shirt and tight pants, his shirt is tucked in and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. With his back facing you, you watched him as he moved one of his hands that was not busy to loosen the tie around his collar. You were watching him like a creep.

He turned around and went to grab something from the fridge, but he stopped his movement when he saw you standing there. “Umm.. What are you doing, baby?” He was confused. You just stood there, looking at his face, you blinked your eyes a couple times. You didn’t know how to answer him. You decided to walk toward him, he stayed there to see what you were going to do. When you were in front of him, you slipped your hands around his neck, then you closed the gap between the two of you. You hugged him. Without any hesitation, he wrapped his hands around your waist.

“I miss you.” Your voice was muffled because your face was squished to his chest. He hugged you tighter and went to put his face in your neck. “I know. Me too.” He mumbled against your skin.

You broke the hug. You tipped your toes and gave him a quick peck on his lips. You were hesitating whether to kiss him again or not, but he grabbed your side jaw and kissed you. The kiss was soft. His other hand was around your waist, keeping you close to him, although there was no gap between you both.

The kiss soon became heated. He moved his hand to your butt, he rubbed it then squeezed it hard. Your fingers made their way to his buttons, but when you just opened one of the buttons, he broke the kiss and stopped your hand. “Wait, baby, I’m busy right now.” He said softly.

“But, bab- I- please.” You pouted. “A quickie?” You tried to negotiate. He was considering it, but he had dinner to make and he doesn’t like quickies, so he decided not to. You were sexually frustrated and he’s not helping.

You tried to open more of the buttons, but he stopped you again. “Honey, no.” He said it more stern. You glared at him. You were waiting for a second if he was going to change his mind, but it didn’t seem like he would. You pushed his chest. “Fuck you.” You curse before you turned around to walk to the door.

Sanji was kinda surprised. You’re not the type of person that swears. The only time you swear was during a battle, and you didn’t even mean to swear, the word just slipped out.

When you were about to reach the door, you decided to piss him off, and what could make him more angry other than the mention of a certain greenhead. “Maybe I should just ask Zoro for help.”

You were about to twist the door handle when he grabbed your wrist, opened the door, and dragged you to your room.

And here you are, in front of a mirror with an exhausted face because your boyfriend has been edging you for half an hour. He starts to move his fingers in and out of you. “Sanji.. please.” You whine when you feel yourself close. But, of course, he stops. “Hm? What was that?” He teased you. You can’t even speak anymore, you’re just breathing heavily. Sanji sees how exhausted you look through the mirror and decides to stop his torture.

He pulls out his fingers, he puts his hands under your armpits, then he pulls you up to stand up. Your legs tremble a little but luckily your boyfriend is still holding you. Once you are steady, he slowly pushes you toward the mirror. He bends you a little, both of your hands on the mirror. He pushes down his pants and boxer a little to let out his erect dick. He rubs it against your ass, sliding it up and down your ass cleavage.

He grabs his dick and guides it to your entrance. It slips easily because you’re already drenching. The both of you let out a moan from the feeling. He places his hand on your hips. He moves in and out of you. You shiver from how good it feels.

He pulls you to him by your waist so that your back meets his chest. Your hands no longer touching the mirror, you put your hands on his hand that is around your waist. He grabs your jaw and makes you look in the mirror. “Is this what you want, hm?” He said next to your ears. “You think that moss-head can make you feel like this?” You can’t form a word, so you just shake your head.

His eyes are watching you through the mirror. He stares at his beautiful girlfriend, red face, eyes looking in the mirror sheepishly, breasts on full display and bouncing with every thrust. He swears he can just cum by the sight of you alone.

He bends you back, your palms touching the mirror. He holds your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrust. The room is filled with your moans and his grunts. His eyes are fixated on his dick moving in and out of you. You watched your hot boyfriend through the mirror. Feeling your gaze on him, he moves his gaze to the mirror and finds you staring at him. The both of you hold your gaze for a couple of seconds, but you quickly look away, flustered. He let out a chuckle.

He lets out a hiss when he feels you tighten around him, that means you are close. He fastens his thrust. Your eyes rolled back from the feeling of his tip touching your cervix with every thrust. You squeal, releasing yourself.

Not long after that, he thrust his whole length inside you and fills you with his thick and warm fluids. He stays in that position until he emptied himself inside you. After that, he pulls himself out of you, causing some of his cum spills out of you.

Your knees are weak, you think you are going to fall, but Sanji quickly holds you by your waist. He pulls up his pants, not bothering to zip it, then he picks you up bridal style and sat you down on the bed. “Wait here.” He kisses the top of your head, then walks out of the room.

He comes back with a bowl of warm water and a towel. He crouches down in front of you, dips the towel in the bowl, squeezes the towel to let the water out. He wipes your sweaty face with it, then your neck and under your breasts. He dips the towel in the bowl again, he spreads your legs a little to clean the mess he made there. You are just watching him with adoration in your eyes. How can you be so lucky? This man would do anything for you, and you know it.

After that, he sets the bowl aside. He sits down next to you, he pats his thigh. Without any hesitation, still naked, you move yourself to sit sideways on his thighs. You wrap your hands around his neck, and he wraps his around your waist. “I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you.” He said softly. “I didn’t mean to. You know I have a busy schedule.”

You hide your face in his neck. “I know. I’m sorry too. For being stubborn.” Your voice is so soft, he barely hears it. “And for cursing at you.” You added.

He chuckles, then kisses the top of your head. You raise your head from his neck to look at him. You purse your lips together, asking for a kiss. He smiles and connects his lips to yours.

And when it’s time for dinner, the both of you get a lot of side eyes and whines because the dinner is an hour late.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece oneshots #one piece smut #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #kuroashi no sanji #straw hat pirates

643 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 6 months

Note

undercover op with sanji in a dress?? i think judge would be pissed asf if he picked a backless one and decided to own that metal spine bcs he’s a badass 😏😏 (unless cyborgs are discriminated against. are they? are they common in this au?? or are sanji and his sibs the only ones?? I’M SO INVESTED PLS 🤲🏻)

ooooh anon anon anon,,, YOU READ MY MIND WITH THE BACKLESS DRESS also cyborgs are pretty uncommon but they aren’t really discriminated against— more seen as things to be put on pedestals and not people, though. some see them as feelingless machines, and sanji’s siblings definitely aren’t helping that rep :((

there are other cyborgs but the vinsmokes are the most well-known, and their power + skills and apathy (save sanji) have people kissing the ground they walk on with a mix of fear and reverence. sanji just wants to be a Normal Guy, though, and zoro treats him like one, and it both pisses sanji off and makes him immeasurably happy. make of that what you will 🤭

“Found him.” Zoro frowns at his monitor, double-clicking with his mouse to zoom in. “Grey jacket, next to the beer taps.”

“Yeah, I see him.”

He tracks Sanji over the security camera, watching the blond slink through a crowd that parts for him effortlessly without even seeming to realise. Zoro can’t blame them, seeing as he looks good enough to stop traffic. “Remember, he doesn’t know what’s—”

“Going on, I know, I know,” Sanji mutters under his breath, weaving around a woman who gawks with her mouth slightly open as he flashes her a soft smirk and a wink. “Keep him unaware and get the drive. I could do this in my sleep.”

“I know,” Zoro echoes, even as he holds back a scoff and an eye roll. He’s in a bad mood and he knows exactly why.

He’s scrunched up in his chair in sweatpants and a ratty tank top, a half-drunk can of beer steadily forming a puddle on the desk next to his keyboard as he watches Sanji sidle up to the bar and order a drink. Their target sneaks a look to the side before ducking his head and taking a gulp from his own glass.

The man’s a small-time photographer who looks clean-cut but understated— Insignificant. He’d been chosen precisely because of that fact; GERMA66 had deemed him acceptable as an oblivious carrier of a thumbdrive that supposedly contains plans for whatever the hell Judge is up to next.

Their job is to intercept it before it gets to Charlotte Linlin, or anybody she’s affiliated with.

The bartender returns with Sanji’s drink and he takes it with an elegant incline of his head. “Old fashioned?” he asks, gesturing to their target’s glass, and there’s a pause before the poor man looks around quickly.

“A-Are you—?” he starts, pointing to himself.

Sanji laughs, silky and soft. Zoro takes a controlled breath. “Who else?” He raises his own glass to his lips, and Zoro knows what’s in it. A rum and orange cocktail with Kahlúa and cacao nibs in the egg white foam on top. “That is an old fashioned, isn’t it? Yeah.” The blond’s lips curl up behind the crystal rim, a bold red and sharp at the edges. “You seem the type.”

“You seem the type,” Zoro mocks silently, scowling at the screen. He doesn’t even try not to scoff this time; his chair complains with a loud creak when he throws his weight back, sullenly crossing his arms over his chest.

Look. He’s not sulking, alright? It’s just— difficult. Sanji twists sideways, leaning one elbow on the bar, and the back of his dress dips low enough for his entire spine to glimmer silver-wet in the dim lights. Where was he?

Right, difficult. Sanji’s over there buttering up a literal nobody, and Zoro has to sit here, in his apartment, in this shitty rolling chair with no back support where he’s close enough to go in if Sanji needs backup. He listens to his partner flirt over the comms and grits his teeth as he tries to consciously keep his fists unclenched.

He’s not jealous. It’s just that he’d gotten used to the idea of there not being anyone else, he supposes. Neither of them have any time for romance outside of their jobs, and at some point being together had just become routine; and Sanji’s a flirt, sure, but at the end of the day it’s always Zoro that he ends up with. They have toothbrushes at each other’s places. Sanji has weights by his shoe rack and Zoro has a block of chef’s knives tucked into the corner of his kitchen counter.

Sanji’s laughter grabs his attention, and Zoro realises that at some point he’d lost the thread of the conversation. The blond pinches the collar of their target’s grey windbreaker between his thumb and forefinger, running down the length of it, and their eyes meet through the camera as Sanji pushes off the countertop and the man scrambles to follow.

His dress drags along the floor. The red satin is made heavy by crystalline beading, draping down to just above his hips as he makes his way to the lift lobby, and the man trails behind hanging onto his every word like a starstruck fool; Zoro suspects he himself isn’t much better. The lights of the lift lobby are harsh as they make their way up to the hotel above the bar, and Zoro switches from camera to camera all the way until the man’s sliding a key card into a lock and disappearing when Sanji shoves him into the room with an exaggerated giggle.

His expression sobers when looks directly at the camera across the hall. Strands of hair are drifting out of his chignon and catching in his lashes. “Sorry, mossy. Gonna have to sign off for now,” he whispers, and Zoro can hear the soft smile in his voice before he pulls his earpiece out and shuts the door.

Silence.

…Yeah, Zoro’s jealous.

It’s enough to have him finishing his beer in two chugs, leaning back to drag his hands over his face and groan. He knows what it looks like. Knows what it’s supposed to look like; a hookup, plain and simple. Judge can’t know that Sanji’s the reason the drive won’t make it to Linlin. It’s risky, sure, but they’re banking on the fact that he doesn’t know that Zoro knows anything about how Judge still has Sanji under his thumb. And if Sanji gets some fun out of it, well— Zoro can’t fault him.

It doesn’t change the fact that he feels sick to his stomach, and it’s pissing him off because he has no right. None at all. He isn’t entitled to anything; Sanji doesn’t owe him, or anyone, anything. It doesn’t matter how he feels. It doesn’t matter how close they sit when they’re falling asleep in the middle of a movie on Sanji’s couch. Sanji’s already been backed into a corner by his bastard of a father— Zoro refuses to complicate things for him any more.

He’ll get up in a moment. Grab a bottle of something stronger this time. The apartment will be his till morning, anyway, so what’s the rush?

And then he hears the front door beep as somebody enters the passcode, and he nearly falls out of his seat sitting up straight.

Zoro glances at the clock as footsteps echo through the entrance; it’s only been twenty minutes, give or take.

Multiple hard somethings clatter onto his desk, and he looks up to find Sanji leaning against the doorway. “Help me out. I’ve got a screw loose,” he says, grinning, and then there’s a moment before Zoro groans.

“If you think that’s funny then you clearly do,” he replies tiredly, standing as Sanji sits on the other side of the table.

He picks up the screwdriver he’d been given, reeling a little. Sanji isn’t supposed to be here, and yet— Here he is, pulling pins from his hair left and right and dropping them all over Zoro’s desk as his chignon untwists itself. A weary sigh leaves Zoro’s lungs. “Where?”

“L4, R6, L12 and 16, and… R23.”

“23?” He frowns. “That’s lower than usual.”

Sanji grimaces. “Slept wrong last night, I think.”

“Hm.” Zoro flips the tool in his hand as Sanji gathers his hair over his shoulder; it’s gotten long now, enough to dust the tops of his shoulder blades with soft, shimmering gold. He rests his thumb at Sanji’s hairline and drags down gently until he gets to the first corresponding vertebra and he’s careful as he fits the screwdriver head in, turning slowly until the joint tightens.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Sanji makes a pfft sound and doesn't even turn, used to Zoro’s straightforward questions. “‘Course not. What, not confident enough in my abilities?”

“No.” Zoro clamps his mouth shut when he realises how defensive he sounds. “No,” he amends, voice marginally less tense, four fingers wrapped over the edge of Sanji’s ribs as he moves down. “I just thought… You were having a good enough time. He liked you. No reason not to.”

“I didn’t want to. That’s the reason,” Sanji says, and it’s flat enough that Zoro knows to ease off. “When we got into his room I knocked him out before I nicked this,” he taps the thumbdrive he’d tossed onto the table with the screwdriver, “out of the lining of one of his jackets.”

Zoro narrows his brows. “Knocked him out how?”

Sanji shrugs a shoulder. “Compressed his carotid. Pretty sure the poor guy was enjoying it, honestly.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Zoro holds Sanji’s side, elbows digging into the table as he crouches down to see what he’s doing. He resists the urge to press his nose to Sanji’s skin. Beading digs into his knuckles as the screw clicks into place.

“Zoro.”

He stills. They rarely use each other’s names. “Yeah?”

“Did you—” Sanji’s breath catches, the moment suspended until he shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

He’s beautiful, Zoro thinks. The scarring that frames his spine is smooth under his thumb. “Did it hurt?”

“Hm?”

“When he…”

“…Yeah.” Sanji puts the heels of his palms on the table, fingers curling over the edge, thumbs pressing into the sides of his thighs. “He said it was my fault, anyway,” he sighs, letting his weight drop so his shoulders hunch up to his ears. “That I wasn’t even supposed to feel pain, but I ruined it before he could… perfect me.”

Zoro lets his eyes flick up, gaze falling on the elegant curve of Sanji’s nape before he focuses on the last screw.

He’d made a promise to himself on that fire escape. The metal melded to Sanji’s back is a constant reminder to both of them that he’s a double agent. Everything they do is a risk; hell, they both lose sleep over it. Zoro’s used to his phone ringing in the middle of the night. Sanji’s finally starting to allow himself to call.

The blond’s head is hung low as the strap of his dress slips off his shoulder, and Zoro slides it back up and lays it in place. He’s done with Sanji’s spine. “How’s that feel?”

“Hm?” Sanji blinks as he looks up, before rolling his shoulders back. “Better.”

“Alright.” Zoro barely stops himself from drumming his fingers on the table as he bites his lip. He turns around under the guise of readjusting random things on his windowsill. “It’s late. You staying over?”

“…Oh, fine,” Sanji relents, waving a hand. “Too tired to go anywhere, anyway.”

It’s second nature to leave a set of pyjamas on the bed; Zoro usually takes the couch, if only because the springs are hell for the tactile sensors in Sanji’s spine. He’s just leaving when Sanji steps out of the adjoining bathroom with a wash of warm air with a towel around his waist.

“Pretty sure your bed’s meant for two,” he says lightly before grabbing the clothes and disappearing back through the door, and Zoro blinks. Sure, he’d splurged on a queen-sized mattress, but he’s never shared it.

He ends up lying down anyway and swiping through his phone mindlessly until Sanji comes out again, hair brushed back. The covers pull as Sanji climbs under and he stretches to turn the lights off, before they’re laying there in silence.

Zoro’s half asleep when he hears it.

“We didn’t do anything in that room.”

“It doesn’t matter if you did.”

“But we didn’t,” Sanji insists, and Zoro hears I didn’t want to do it, any of it, and he doesn’t even realise he’s reached for Sanji’s hand until their fingers brush.

“I know,” he says, gentle. Their hands lay in the space between them until Sanji threads their fingers together, rolling onto his side.

“Just, uh,” he begins, clearing his throat gruffly. “Just wanted to clarify.”

Zoro laughs against his will. His shoulders shake with it, and he hisses when Sanji kicks his shin. He finds the knuckle of Sanji’s thumb as he brings their hands up between their pillows, rubbing over the bone. “Go to sleep, curly. We’ll go through the drive tomorrow.”

Sanji’s lashes flutter before he swallows. “Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, marimo.”

He turns his face into his pillow. He smells like Zoro’s body wash.

Zoro stares at his ceiling and wonders just how much he’d be willing to give to protect this man falling asleep next to him.

(He wakes not long after sunrise the next day.

Sanji’s ribs rise and fall against his palm, the corner of his borrowed shirt riding up. He’d rolled over Zoro’s arm sometime in the night; his other hand is tucked close to his chest, his ankle skin-warm and pressed to Zoro’s shin. His hair is all over the place and Zoro’s pretty sure he’s drooling.

He smells even more familiar now, like cheap lavender detergent that Zoro buys on a discount, leftover hair wax and orange from the night before. Just a hint of mint toothpaste. There’s the slight rasp of stubble when Zoro drags the heel of his hand across Sanji’s jaw, and the man mutters in his sleep, flipping over to face the other way and hug Zoro’s arm to his chest.

Well. Zoro doesn’t usually sleep in. He’s a busy man, he’s got weights to rep and evidence to process— But seeing as his arm’s trapped, there’s not much he can do, is there?)

(The next time he opens his eyes it’s past noon. He smells caffeine and hot butter, and it drags him out of bed to the kitchen; Sanji’s standing over the stove, hair shoved up into a haphazard bun with a blue ballpoint pen, spatula in one hand and Zoro’s laptop balanced on the other.

“About damn time, you log,” he huffs, jerking his head towards the table. “Coffee’s ready, help yourself. You won’t believe what bullshit Judge is trying to pull.”

Zoro raises both eyebrows and decides to save himself an ass-kicking by keeping his mouth shut. He pours himself a mug of coffee and sits down. “S’that my pen?”

“It’s—” Sanji frowns. “I picked it up off the floor.”

“Hm. I was wondering where it ran off to.”

Sanji rolls his eyes, leaning over to put the eggs down. “You’re fucking horrible. Are you telling me you only have one pen?”

“No. I was just looking for this,” Zoro reaches up and yanks it from his hair, “pen.” He yelps a laugh when Sanji swats him over the head and drags a chair out. “It looks better down, anyway,” he chuckles, wrapping a curl around his finger and tugging before he lets go. “Now run me through what’s going on.”

The blond gives him a stink eye and sighs, turning the laptop so it faces them both. “Okay. So…”)

(Zoro settles in, drinks his coffee, and he still hasn’t figured out how much he’d give. He’s starting to think there isn’t a limit.

He thinks he’d be okay with that, though.)

(part 1 | part 2)

#cyborg sanji au #that last line… be careful zoro be careful #they’re literally married?? and they’re still not together?? guys PLEASE #the way i had to fight w myself to not make sanji answer “when i fell from heaven?” when zoro asked “did it hurt”#THERE’S MORE COMING FOR THIS AU KEEP YA EYES PEELED #WILL BE SEEING MORE STRAWHATS + MORE CYBORG DETAILS #judge is about to earn himself many more haters that’s all imma say #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AGAIN ANON 😽😽#ino writes #ino’s ask box #zosan #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #zoro x sanji #one piece

93 notes · View notes

aza-writes · 1 year

Text

The Columbia Party

college!matt murdock x reader

Summary: you're a law student at Yale and your friend takes you to a Columbia Law school party one night where you so happen to meet a really cute blind guy

Warnings: use of y/n, few curse words, alludes to future smut

Based on the quote: "Everyone knows that the only real Ivy's are the Holy Trinity; Harvard, Yale, and Princeton" because Blair Waldorf is an icon

requested: no

The music playing in the bar was so loud that you could barely hear the guy standing next to me. His smile was charming but he was trying way too hard to be Mr. Cool Guy. Bragging about how he went to an Ivy League when everyone here is doing the same. I fake smile and giggle, hoping it’s enough for him to buy me a free drink. And I was so close. One more playful touch on his arm and I would be sucking down something strong for free, getting buzzed after a minute. But no. My friend who brought me here, Bre, grabbed my hand and pulled me away into the crowd.

“You have to meet my friends! You’ll have so much fun with them!” Even with her yelling, her voice is barely audible over the music and loud conversations. She pulls me through the crowd insisting that a quiet spot is only “a little further away.” It wasn’t until after we finished one song, listened to a full one, and started the next that we finally made it to a small corner booth with two guys and a girl sitting there.

"Bre!" the long-haired guy who kinda looks like a hippy yelled toward us. He immediately stands up and hurries over to her.

Bre grips my hand harder as she walks towards the hippy man. “Foggy! How are you?” She’s speaking louder than usual, indicating the buzz of alcohol in her system. She goes to hug him without letting go of my hand, leaving me awkwardly standing there.

She finally pulls away after a few long seconds. “This is the girl I was telling you about!” She lets go of my hand and makes a grand gesture to me. “Isn’t she so pretty! I told you she was pretty!” I giggle at her drunk compliments. Bre was the type of girl to brag about her friends but she gets even more affectionate after she’s been drinking. The perfect hype woman.

I was expecting him to hold out his hand for me to shake, instead, he pulls me into a big bear hug. “I’m Foggy,” he turns and points to a girl at their booth, “That’s Marci, and that one with the glasses is Matt.”

I wave at everyone. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m y/n.” I smile as Bre again grabs my hand and pulls me to the booth to sit down.

Bre giggles as we sit down, then immediately stands up. “I’m gonna get us drinks!” She smiles and dramatically kisses the top of my head with a “mwah” before she runs back into the crowd to the bar.

“So,” Foggy breaks the silence, “Bre said you’re in law school too.”

Matt perks up at this, finally allowing me to see his full face and the upper half of his shoulders. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol but he has a very pretty face and extremely broad shoulders. Nice muscles too. Before I got to respond, Matt asks another question.

“You go to Colombia too?” He faces me, with furrowed brows. You can see the wheels in his head spinning but I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“No, I go to Yale.” I smile softly, uncomfortable with the fact Bre left me with three strangers. I only know Marci from the one time we met. I was staying the night in Bre’s dorm when Marci hurried in and packed an overnight bag to meet up with what Bre refers to as ‘mystery whipped man’ which I now think is Foggy by the way he’s sitting so close to her.

Marci giggles at this and looks up at Matt. “Oh, this is just perfect!” I look at her confused until she turns to Matt. “Weren’t you just saying that people that go to Yale are-”

“Shh-” Foggy cuts her off, but that doesn’t stop her.

“A bunch of pretentious-”

“Shhhhhh!” This time it was Matt trying to get her to stop talking.

“Assholes.”

My eyes widen. “Oh really?” I look back at Matt. “Everyone that goes to Yale.”

“That’s not at all what I meant.” His voice is a bit more defensive but nervous beyond everything else. “It’s just a lot of people there are a bit more high class and um,” he looks at Foggy, trying to get his help in the situation. Foggy just sits there and puts his hands up in surrender. “Snobby?”

“Snobby?”

“Shit that isn’t the right word.”

“Snobby? Says that guy that goes to Colombia. You probably think that you’re too cool for one of the top law schools in the country.”

Matt scoffs. “Colombia is an Ivy League school, just like Yale.”

“Oh please, everyone knows that the real Ivy’s are the Holy Trinity; Harvad, Yale, and Princeton.”

Matt opens his mouth, about to rebuttal, when Bre returns with two Long Island ice teas.

“Sooo, what did I miss?” She smiles and sits right next to me, trapping me next to Matt. “Is everyone getting along?”

“It’s going just great.” I give her an obviously fake smile before sipping my drink. I’m too sober to deal with any of this right now.

• • • • • •

An hour passed, as well as two Long Island ice teas, two rounds of shots for the table, and something fruity Bre brought me. I was too buzzed at that point to even ask what it was, but it was good. I was doing relatively okay, drunk enough to feel fine but I could still think logically-ish. Bre on the other hand, was wasted out of her mind. She was so drunk to the point Foggy and Marci had to get her back to her dorm.

“I’ll drop her off then run back to grab you and Matt.” And with those three leaving, it left me and Matt alone.

I don’t feel like talking to him and I don’t want to talk to him, but the awkward silence was enough to make me want to bang my head into a wall. I’m honestly considering it. I slowly turn my head to look at Matt who was taking a sip out of his beer. His hands look so good holding the bottle. His jaw tense as he drinks it, his lips wrapped around the opening.

Fuck he’s hot.

He pulls me out of my daydream by chuckling a bit as he sets his beer down.

“What’s so funny?” I’m at that stage of drinking where I say anything that comes to my mind. I can’t tell if I like this part or hate it.

He just shakes his head and smiles. “I-it’s nothing,” he tries to compose himself but he starts laughing again.

“Tell me. It’s not like I’m gonna remember it in the morning.” I lie, I’ll remember it perfectly fine. I just want him to tell me. What about this whole thing is so funny he can’t help himself from laughing.

He chuckles a bit more and turns to me. “Okay then.” He smirks then leans in close. “When I took a drink your heart rate spiked, your skin is hotter, and your breath quickened. You find me attractive, don’t you?”

My eyes widen. How the fuck did he know that? “Excuse me?”

He chuckles again. “It spiked again.”

“H-how do you know that? And I don’t. And how the fuck do you know about my heart rate?”

“Don’t worry about it.” he straightens up, his smirk still lying across his face.

I wanna smack it off of him… Or fuck it off.

Only a few seconds after I let that thought slip in, he’s smirking and giggling like a fucking mind reader.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock one shot #matthew murdock #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil smut

166 notes · View notes

kay-elle-cee · 1 year

Text

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 1 || 689 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“Excuse me?”

Lily looks up from her phone, startled by the proximity of the deep voice calling for her attention. The volume of the pub around them necessitates close proximity for any sort of conversation, and she blinks as her eyes focus on a (very) attractive man sliding into the seat next to her. Quickly, her eyes dart around looking for Dorcas, who should really be on her way back from the loo any second now, to no avail.

“You’re here with Meadowes, right?” The man asks, a black eyebrow raising knowingly, something unspoken and humorous dancing on his lips.

Rolling her eyes, Lily leans back in her seat and drops her attention to her phone. This happens all the time. “You’re not her type, sorry.”

The man lets out a sharp laugh that draws her gaze up once more, and it lingers to take in the untamable curls that fall in front of square-rimmed glasses. “I’d say not.” At the raise of her brow, he shakes his head with a smile. “I’m James. Marlene’s friend.”

Lily sucks a breath through her teeth and reaches for her half-empty drink. “I see.” Taking a long sip, she sets it down and straightens out the napkin on the table, fixing this man—James—with a tired, knowing look. “And I take it Marlene also disappeared to the toilets about ten minutes ago, and has yet to return?”

“‘Gone to get us drinks,’ actually,” James replies, fingers quoting around his friend’s excuse.

“Wonderful. And here I thought Dorcas wanted to have a girls' night.”

“To be fair to Dorcas, I think she is.”

Lily just stares blankly at him. “Does that usually get a laugh?”

“An exasperated groan, actually.”

“Good,” she nods, taking another sip of her drink. “You don’t need the encouragement.”

James places a hand over his heart in mock-pain, a smile spreading on his lips. “So Dorcas lured you here under the pretense of a girl’s night? Marlene said we were coming to a pub quiz. Imagine my disappointment.”

“This is so messy,” Lily sighs, tracing the top of her glass. “The last time they broke up—”

“I know,” James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Their schedules just really don’t line up. Maybe that’s why they pulled us into it—someone to hold them accountable.”

“Fat load of good that does when they don’t even tell us the reason we’re here. I have other things I could be doing other than sitting alone in a pub on a Tuesday night.”

“Yeah I’m a little peeved at McKinnon. I actually rearranged my schedule because she said they were down a member.”

Lily’s lips twitch. “You rearranged your schedule for a pub quiz?”

“I rearranged my schedule to help a friend,” he answers, aghast.

“Your friend should be more appreciative and not run off to snog her ex-girlfriend in the toilets,” Lily grimaces, finishing her drink.

He sighs, bringing his beer bottle to his lips (and drawing Lily’s gaze there as well). “It’s not the first time she’s done something like this. I’m afraid I’m rather gullible when it comes to my friends.”

“It’s Dorcas’ first time pulling something like this.” She clears her throat and tears her eyes away from his lips, a flush crawling up her neck as she sees she’s been caught. James quirks an eyebrow.

“Maybe we should teach them a lesson. Make sure they don’t do it again.”

Her pulse quickens. “Maybe. They shouldn’t leave their poor, suffering friends alone in a bar.” Green eyes flicker down to full lips for the quickest of moments. “Do you have an idea?”

“I do,” James breathes, and he’s leaning in towards her. “But I’d feel pretty shit following through without even knowing your name.”

She honest-to-God blacks out for a second, before remembering the four-lettered thing. “Lily.”

“Lily,” he repeats, and the sound of her name in his mouth sends a jolt of electricity through her. “I’m James.”

Her smile is fleeting as she spots two figures heading their way, and she rushes her next words. “You’ve already said that, and they’re coming. Now shut up and kiss me.”

#it's (always) you #jilytober2023 #james potter #lily evans #jilytober #jple #31 prompts

114 notes · View notes

jaegeraether · 9 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 42)

Alexia Putellas x Character (9)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**Mentions of Lucy/YFN.* *What happens when two dominant people start falling for each other? This... :')* *I think this is my favourite chapter so far...**))

Alexia had her arms crossed over her body as she watched Lucy and her girlfriend through the glass at the airport. Lucy was the type of person to be so brutal on the field, so dedicated in her work, and so unapologetically independent. There were occasions where she was excited enough for physical contact with people, though they were rare, because that was the soft side of her that you only see if you truly knew her well. Even then, she hid it extremely well, even when she was with Keira.

Not now though. Alexia watched Lucy and YFN move like there was a cord connected between them, their movements naturally synced and complementing each other. And then there were the looks, the longing, the love, the hopeless expressions that were exchanged with smiles and blushes, many of which were one staring without the other noticing. It made Alexia feel a lot of things to see them like this. To see Lucy be so happy, so touchy, so in love. It now made sense to her why Lucy was always lost in a daydream since she’d returned from the last international break. Because she was always thinking about her; because this was one of those things you only see in movies or read about in poetry.

“They are cute, no?”

Alexia flinched at the voice which was a lot closer than she expected. She turned to Ridley who was leant against her car, hands clasped casually behind her back as she studied Alexia’s face. Her famous all-too-neutral expression usually helped her disguise her emotions, yet she felt Ridley could see right through it. And she could. Just the slightest hint of downturned eyebrows, her mouth set a little too hard, and the biggest giveaway, her eyes. Alexia’s eyes were like an open book for her, betraying her deepest feelings, and right now she could see…longing.

“I guess.”

“I prefer absolutes.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, her face otherwise staying the same. “Is there a way to absolutely tell if tonight is going to be awkward between the two of us?”

Ridley smiled and Alexia watched the scar on her cheek shift with the movement of her face. “Awkward is fun, no?” She pushed off from the car and opened the door, gesturing Alexia in as if she were a chauffeur. “La Reina.”

Alexia looked at the fact that she’d opened the rear car door, and not the front. She was unsure if Ridley expected her to call her bluff, but she did anyways. She slid into the back seat as if she were an actual Queen, and Ridley an actual chauffeur. Bluff called. Alexia watched a smile creep over her face at her unexpected cheekiness as she closed the door. Alexia 1, Ridley 0.

“Ridley! It’s been too long! How are you?” The restaurant owner was gushing over the couple as they came in. “And I see your taste in women is impeccable, how lucky we are for you to bring the la Reina to our little restaurant.”

Ridley shared a grin and a polite half-hug with him. Did she know everyone? “Emiliano, I hope your family are well. Yes, I’ve been busy. I took a few contracts in Dubai recently so I’ve been gone for most of the year there.”

Alexia’s interest peaked at that. That’s where she’d been?

“My daughter wants to do that one day too. She’s so excited! Won’t shut up about it. Oh well, I’m glad you’re back. You look beautiful, as do you, Miss Putellas. As luck would have it, I have your favourite table free! Follow me.”

Usually Alexia was the centre of attention. The one who lead the way and had to do all of the talking and pleasantries. Here with Ridley she felt the opposite and it was…incredibly refreshing. Alexia followed closely behind Ridley, studying her back as she walked with such confidence. They reached her ‘favourite table’ which sported a stunning view of the city, but also retained a little privacy from half of the restaurant. In addition to that, she couldn’t help but realise how humble Emiliano had been when he’d said ‘little restaurant’. It looked and felt Michelin Star. Emiliano shared a gesture with Ridley that she didn’t see, and he stepped back as Ridley took his place to push Alexia’s chair in behind her. Another new fact about Ridley she’d just learnt. Chivalry. Alexia 1 – Ridley 1.

Ridley sat opposite her and pulled her own seat in. Alexia watched the two exchange a few more pleasantries and small talk before he gave them the chef specials and recommendations and left with a smile. The restaurant was so nice that the menus didn’t have prices. Cost was never a factor for Alexia anymore, though she felt like it helped her get to know the woman opposite her a little more. Gone were the days of the mysterious woman from the bar. Or so she thought.

They weren’t speaking, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Alexia felt very comfortable, even with the astonishingly distracting tension between the two. If Ridley felt it, she hid it well. Alexia stared at the menu, not really seeing the words until two fingers gripped the top of her menu and gently lowered it so she could see her eyes.

“Are you going to hide behind your menu all night?”

“I was considering it.” She murmured, embarrassed she’d just been called out. Usually Alexia was the cool, calm person in control.

“And deprive me of those eyes?”

There’s that cheeky audacity. She made it worse by keeping that eye contact, making Alexia feel seen. And surprisingly safe also.

Alexia thought it best to not encourage her. “Any suggestions?”

“The salmon. I dreamt about it for days after.”

Everything sounded so flirty from her mouth. Perhaps it was.

“Okay.” She said and put her menu down as if to show she was done hiding. “And for you?”

Ridley hadn’t even opened her menu.

“Emiliano suggested the sirloin. Are you okay with wine during your season?”

“Si.”

Ridley raised her hand without her elbow leaving the table, and a server appeared, as if she’d been watching. Ridley handed her both menus and ordered for both of them with a wine pairing. Alexia noticed the girl staring at Ridley as if she was in love with her, or as if they’d had sex. After a few more seconds, she would have put money on it being the latter. Her emotions were poorly covered with longing looks and presumably old memories. Ridley’s expression, however, didn’t change. It was neutral, polite, unbothered. Usually in a situation like this, the person would be extra cold, or awkward, or making it obvious that it had meant nothing to them. Ridley did none of those things because she actually cared. Alexia had noticed that about her. She was so aware of people’s feelings, her intelligence shining through and although she had a perfectly composed self, that deep part of her could be brought out. She’d seen it in the worry in her eyes last night. She’d seen it in her amused expression in the rear-view as she and YFN had their little back and forth in the car. She’d seen it in the melancholy look that appeared for a split second when Alexia had said she was going to spend Christmas with her family.

When the server was gone, Ridley’s attention turned back to her date and just when Alexia thought she’d say something teasing, she did the opposite.

“I apologise for last night, Alexia. I…mishandled the entire situation. I won’t give you any excuses. Simply, you deserved better.”

It was short and eloquent. Not riddled with personal wants and needs and reasons and excuses. Just a genuine apology. Unfortunately, that made Ridley even more attractive to her than she already was.

“I accept your apology. Thank you for saying that.”

She wondered if that was it. If that was all Ridley wanted from their dinner tonight. She really just wanted to get to know her better, and she didn’t know why.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure, I’ll try my best to answer it.”

Alexia hesitated, which she rarely did. “In the car when you asked me about Christmas, you seemed upset. Why?”

Ridley stared into her eyes as if she were wondering how honest she should be. “Because I don’t have a family. I have YFN and her nan and her brother, but we’re not biologically related.”

No family? “Why..?”

“It would dampen the mood of tonight.”

“I want to know. Besides, what do you expect from tonight?”

“I expect to have dinner with you and apologise. I’d say we’re off to a great start.”

“Ridley-”

Ridley’s eyes flashed something unknown. It was the first time she’d heard her name from Alexia’s lips.

“I’m much more than my past.”

Alexia knew that, of course, but could also tell it was Ridley’s way of asking her to stop. So she did.

“I know you are.”

Before Ridley could respond, the server was back with the wine. She held it up for Ridley to look at and she tasted it like a wine connoisseur before she accepted it. Alexia noticed the server intentionally brushing Ridley’s fingers with her own, hoping for a reaction. Most people would have reacted to the touch, but Ridley remained indifferent and polite.

“I have another question.”

“By all means.”

One of the benefits of them both having dominant personalities was their ability to be straight to the point and honest.

“What do you want from me?”

Ridley took a sip while she thought. “In general or tonight?”

“Both.”

“Tonight I wanted to apologise and make sure you have a nice meal after your game. In general, I’m not entirely sure.”

She was unsure what she wanted from her?

“Last night you said a few things I’d like clarification on.”

Ridley gave her a look that said she already knew what those things were. “I’ll do my best.”

“Four questions. Firstly, you said that you ‘come here to see’ me?”

“To the bar, yes. Exactly how you go just to see me.”

It wasn’t cockiness, it was an observant fact. She knew she was going just for her? Alexia felt herself getting shy. She was rarely shy. She pushed that aside.

“That’s fair,” she murmured. “You also said ‘I don’t think of you like that’.”

“I don’t. You’re much more than a body to me.”

“What am I?” It wasn’t one of her questions but she couldn’t help but whisper it.

Ridley frowned. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Is that why you ‘don’t know how to give me anything else’?”

“I don’t date, Alexia.”

“And you just assume that I do?”

“Do you not?”

She frowned. She did. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“There was no choice to offer. We didn’t know each other. We still don’t.”

“We could have changed that if you hadn’t left.”

Those words hung in the air between them. Ridley had left, and she knew it would have hurt her, but she assumed it would hurt her less than actually getting to know her for who she was. Ridley didn’t open up to people. Better to leave than break her heart.

The server arrived again during their silence, and placed their food in front of them, giving an extra sweet smile to Ridley. She pretended not to see it, her eyes on Alexia.

“I’m excited for you to try that, the chef is incredible.” Ridley’s eyes flickered to Alexia’s dish while Alexia continued to stare at her.

“Why did you leave?”

She sighed and caught Alexia’s eye again.

“Because I’m not good for you.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, Alexia. I’m not good for anybody.”

“You’re good enough for the women you fuck.” Alexia’s jealousy hit like a slap in the face. Usually people enjoy seeing their partners jealous for them. Ridley, however, didn’t want to see Alexia upset in any way.

“They mean nothing to me.”

Questions swam in Alexia’s eyes. “Were you trying to push me away…?”

That surprised her. Alexia’s jealousy hadn’t hindered her confidence. She knew her worth. It was an alarmingly attractive quality for Ridley. “Yes.”

Alexia was grateful for the fact that Ridley didn’t lie. She’d answer honestly or not at all. “Why?”

“I told you why.”

“You never gave me a chance…”

Again, those words hung in the air and the heartbreak on Alexia’s face almost broke her. Ridley had never felt like that before. She never let herself get close enough to. “I’m not good for you..” she repeated as if she hadn’t understood the first time. It was a weak argument.

“And you’ve just made that decision for me then? I don’t get to decide what is and isn’t good for me? What I do and don’t want?” Alexia was a softy at heart and although she was fierce with her words, unfallen tears were building up in her eyes. “You may be used to being in control and telling people what to do, but you don’t get to do that with me. Not right now.”

It was like two dominant animals butting heads. Both knew their worth, and Ridley had absolutely done the wrong thing by shutting Alexia out. Though she’d told herself she hadn’t owed her anything, she knew she did from that very first moment they’d locked eyes in the bar almost a year ago. Everything she’d done from then had been for her, and without her having a say in the matter. She hadn’t realised how selfish she’d been. She’d convinced herself she was doing the right thing by her and her feelings, without considering her actual feelings, because Alexia had been just as involved as she was. She’d underestimated that.

“You’re right.”

Alexia was also surprised at how easy she’d admitted that. She opened her mouth to reply and was cut off.

“Eat your food before it’s cold. Then we’ll talk.”

That was a good example of the type of control Alexia could accept from her. But not her avidly taking away her choices regarding her emotions.

The salmon was incredible, and she told her just as much. Ridley was happy at that. The wine pairing went down perfectly with their food and soon enough, the plates were replaced with the dessert menu.

“I can’t…” Alexia started to say before she was distracted reading the menu.

“We can share.”

Their eyes met, both happy at the compromise. Alexia smiled and Ridley’s heart almost stopped at that. She was stunning. She didn’t know if she could tear her eyes from her lips, but luckily she was torn away by the server again.

“What can I get for you two?”

“We’re sharing.” She said, clapping her menu closed and handing it over, looking at the Barcelona Captain. “It’s your choice.”

The server looked a little upset by that, and almost unwillingly turned her attention to Alexia.

“The crema catalana, please.”

She gave her menu to the server who nodded and left. Only then did she see the grin on Ridley’s face, and couldn’t help her face reflecting it.

“What?”

“That’s my favourite. Anything with custard, or similar to it.”

It was another rare fact that Ridley happily shared with her. She made a mental note of it.

“Can we continue?”

“If you’d like.”

“I would.” Alexia was suddenly a little shy again. “You admit that I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Care the expand on that?”

“It was…selfish of me to make decisions for you. I convinced myself it was what was best for you.”

“And if you hadn’t thought it was what was best for me?”

“I’d have fucked you many, many times, in many different ways by now.”

The comment was crass, but her expression wasn’t. She meant it.

“You don’t date…” She repeated from Ridley’s earlier statement.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons.”

“Such as?”

Ridley sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m…broken. I can’t love. I discovered that when I was younger and made the mistake of being with people who I knew would fall for me and breaking their hearts. I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“You’ve never loved anyone?”

Ridley’s melancholy flashed across her face briefly. “I love YFN. I loved my brother.”

Loved. Alexia didn’t even have to ask the question.

“He’s dead.”

“And your family?”

Her jaw flexed. “The same.”

Alexia’s heart dropped. No wonder she’d looked so sad when Alexia had said she was spending Christmas with her family. She thought that ‘I don’t have a family’ meant they’d chosen to not recognise her for her sexuality or didn’t get along. She never assumed they were gone.

“I’m so-”

“Please don’t. I don’t want pity. It happened. It’s done.”

She left it for a minute before she whispered the next question. “Is that why you think you’re broken?”

“Alexia, I don’t want to talk about my past, or my faults tonight, please. I just want to have dinner with you.”

Her heart softened up at that admission. “We can do that…”

“Good.”

The crema catalana arrived then, with two spoons. Ridley picked hers up and noticed Alexia hadn’t taken hers. She was lost in thought. She took a breath and reached out, her fingers lightly touching one of Alexia’s hands on the table. That broke her thought as her eyes snapped up to meet Ridley’s.

“I’ll allow you one more question before we eat.”

It took her a few seconds to decide on which question to ask, Ridley’s fingertips warm and soft and distracting.

“Why did you leave?” She whispered.

“Because I was scared I would let you in if I stayed.”

Alexia inhaled sharply, blinking tears away. She wasn’t crazy. They did have a strong connection. And Ridley had just admitted that, unashamedly. Alexia knew how hard that must have been for her.

“Now eat, la Reina.”

The two ate dessert, unable to stop their satisfied hums as they did so, because it tasted incredible. Alexia made a note of the restaurant. She wanted to come back and bring her entire family and friends. As she thought that, the idea of Ridley being alone in the restaurant tugged at her heartstrings. Of course she’d never be alone. She’d be with a girl or a colleague, but that didn’t stop the fact that she’d be alone and would feel like it. Because no one can fill that empty space of family.

They finished quickly, Ridley paying for the meal before Alexia had a chance to argue. They said their goodbyes to Emiliano and this time when they reached the car, Ridley held the passenger door open for her.

Alexia’s grandmother’s house wasn’t far from the restaurant, and the drive was a comfortable, safe silence with Spanish music playing in the background softly. They’d both asked enough questions for the night.

As they arrive out the front, Ridley opened her door for her, and took her overnight duffle out, walking her up to the front door. The porch light was a dull yellow which made the gold flecks in Ridley’s eyes stand out even brighter. They shared a wordless smile until the sound of laughing filtered out through one of the front windows, and Ridley’s smile faltered a little. Alexia wanted to hug her, to kiss her, to invite her into her welcoming family and make her feel loved. All of that would have been too much though and besides, Ridley escaped before she had a chance to do anything.

She leant down and her lips brushed her cheek in a soft kiss. Alexia leant into her, and they stood like that for a little before Ridley was gone without a look back.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #alexia putellas #barca femeni #fc barcelona #barca #barcelona femeni #fc barca #culers #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader

147 notes · View notes

galway-girlatwork · 2 months

Text

written for @studioghibelli's writing challenge

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Mature-There is angst, fluff and smut if you squint really, really hard. 😊

Central Characters: Reader/Pena/Murphy

Central Relationship: Pena/Reader

Word Count: 3,478

AO3

Please do not copy or reblog my work without tagging me

Music inspiration: The Pretty Reckless

SUMMARY:

A tumultuous relationship with a fellow DEA agent, is marked by tension and unspoken feelings. Can a growing affection, mixed with reckless behavior, drugs, death, money and power, really survive? From Bogota, to Miami, to Rome, how far will it go?

A Broken Silence

As the last of the Cali Cartel fell, like little toy soldiers, she wondered what was next. She’d been down in Columbia, longer than she’d lived back in the states. It had taken years of dedication, long fucking days and even longer nights. Elise thought of the hundreds of people that had died, gotten hooked on blow and for what? Power and money. That was the root cause of it all, power and money. She’d been assigned to Columbia a year after she became DEA. They told her she’d be an asset, it turned out to be a load of shit. Women agents were looked at as glorified secretary’s but that was until she met Pena and Murphy. Pena looked at her like a piece of meat, Murphy actually used her intelligence to their advantage. Did she ever actually make it into the field? Yep, as an undercover hooker, Pena’s idea of course. His exact words to her, as she stood there in a slinky red dress was, she had a body, might as well use it. That was the first time she hit him. The second time was when he drunk on whiskey and made a pass at her.

The three of them had been working together for a year before she realized she actually cared about Pena. She’d been sitting in her car, in the parking lot of the embassy when she saw him pull in, a gangly female crawling out of the passenger seat, as he got out, pressing herself against him, her tongue half way down his throat, his hand on her tit. Part of her wanted to vomit, part of her wanted to punch the whore. She knew the woman was a whore, those were the only types of women Pena seemed to be interested in. It was that afternoon, the dynamic of the relationship changed between them because she realized she’d been jealous and the only reason a woman was jealous was because she wanted him. She wanted all of him but knew it would never happen. Her attitude towards him went from indifference to straight up bitch, Murphy snickering every time she went for a kill. By the time Escobar was riddled with bullets, Pena hated her with a passion, which he made clear before he was sent to DC, Murphy back to Florida and she was right back where she started, glorified secretary.

A month later she had been re-assigned, working with some head honcho on the Cali cartel and the intel needed to break up their little surrender deal they had going, cringing inward when a jean clad hip, found the edge of her desk.

“Well, well, seems something is working out for me, how’s is shaken Tanner?” “Are you fucking serious right now Pena? I am working with you? Again? Can someone please tell me who I pissed off in a past life?” “Probably the devil himself hermosa.”

“Don’t, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Come in here thinking I won’t deck you for bein a polla.”

“Whoa, Spanish is improving.”

“Get the hell off my desk Pena and go find yourself a whore. I’m sure there were slim pickins in D.C.”

“You offering?”

“Vete al infierno.”

“Already there babe.”

Getting off her desk, he went into his office, slamming the door, watching the glass rattle before he threw himself in the chair behind his desk. Fuck, he thought Elise would have been stateside by now, along with Murphy but as luck would have it, she was here to torment him. It was hard seeing her right now, needing to focus on Cali but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Fuck she was still beautiful and her temper gave her skin a glow that most women he knew would kill for. Closing his eyes, he remembered all the nights he thought of her. Imagining his hands twisted in thick, curly brown hair, looking into eyes so brown, they were almost black, as he slid into her, marking her as his. He not only wanted her but had fallen in love with her. He wasn’t sure when it happened or how but he realized it the day he had been shipped to D.C. thinking his career was over, sitting in an airport bar with Murphy. Murphy knew it and told him to do something about it before it was too late. He’d laughed it off before giving his partner a hug, both of them going their separate ways. Well God had a sense of humor, he thought as he walked in, seeing her sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt, chewing on a pencil as she read the file on her desk. Yea he was so screwed and not in the way that made him want a drink and a smoke.

The next six months were unbearable, her nerves frazzled when it was all over, thrilled when they gave her a month before she was going to her next post in Miami. Just because Cali fell in Columbia didn’t mean the drug trafficking did, since it was still all about power and money. What was that saying, he who dies with the most toys wins? Well, these bastards were gonna make sure they had all the toys and more.

Sitting on a bar stool, surrounded by co-workers, they celebrated with food and drinks, the beer and tequila flowing freely, except for Pena, who leaned more towards whiskey.

“To victory,” Javi toasted, his eyes lingering on Elise longer than necessary.

“To victory,” she echoed, smiling, but there was a wistfulness in her eyes that Javi couldn’t decipher. As the night wore on, one drink led to another to another and before she could stop and form thought, she found herself in Pena’s apartment, passion flaring between them like an arc of lighting. His lips found the base of her throat, suckling at the skin and come morning, it would be a purple blossom of broken blood vessels. Fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt before she grabbed the sides, yanking as hard as she could, buttons pinging to the floor before they moved to his belt. She wanted him knowing in the morning she’d be gone. One night wouldn’t kill her, right?

Fuck, he thought, as he yanked her t-shirt off her frame, breasts held in place by a wisp of lace, was this really fucking happening right now? Her skin was warm and soft beneath his hands as he undid the button on her jeans, hand sliding into the waistband, his mind focused on one thing, and he almost died right there as he slid his fingers into her depths, feeling how wet she was. God fucking damn he wanted her, laid out in his bed, beneath him, his body marking her as his.

She moaned against his mouth as his fingers slid into her, the pad of his thumb against her clit, every nerve over firing, sending dopamine coursing through her, limbs melting from one feeling to another until they were both naked, not remembering if they had even stopped kissing at this point. He was rough with her, one hand tangled in her hair while the other slid under her knee, teeth nipping at her earlobe. Reaching between them, hand wrapping around the thickness of his cock, she positioned him at her entrance, his name a whisper into the space between them.

That was all it took for his control to snap like a rubber band wound too tight and he slammed into her. He held still for all of thirty seconds before he lost control, hips bucking against her like teenager having sex for the first time. She was warm, wet, tight, her skin sweet on the tip of his tongue as he dragged it across one nipple before moving on to the other, lips attached themselves to the skin of her collar bone, sucking on it, knowing he would mark her there just as he did to the left side of her neck. He knew some thought hickies were tacky but he didn’t give a fuck. When she walked the streets of Columbia, he wanted everyone to know she was taken. He pulled out of her so violently, he wondered if he’d hurt her, but that thought was fleeting as he flipped her over, bringing her to her knees, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back, sliding into her with no remorse for the brutality of it. He was feeding his soul with her body and she was allowing it. He exploded violently within her as her orgasm hit, her walls clenching around his hardness made it impossible not to, his name screamed out into the sex filled air surrounding them. Arms wrapped around her, his chest against her back, holding onto her for a moment before he left go, collapsing on his back.

Her body had a mind of its own at this point, falling on her side, facing him, watching as he took in deep gulps of air. He turned to look at her, eyes making contact, it was like they had just seen each other for the first time and there was something so intense in his stare and she felt it within her soul, feeling as if he knew everything about her and still wanted her, wondering if he actually cared, if all the hate fueled words he’d thrown at her, was a façade. She shook her head, displacing those thoughts as she moved over him, wondering how many more times they could lose themselves in the moment before dawn streaked across the sky of Columbia.

He woke up to an empty bed, reaching out, only to find Elise’s side cold. Panic surged through him as he saw a note on the pillow.

*Javi,

Watch your back. Be safe.

Elise.*

Fuck, he thought, as his heart sank, crumbling the note and throwing it across the room. He’d never been good with words, especially when it came to expressing feelings. He’d cared for Elise, but kept that buried, not wanting emotions involved because they were a distraction in the dangerous world they’d been living in. But now, that time was up down here, he realized he couldn’t let her go and now he had to find her.

Finding her hadn’t been as easy as he thought it would be. By the time he got cleaned up and to the embassy, he found out that everything was being sent to the field office in Miami, her next assignment. He wasn’t due to leave Bogota for another week. By the time he got to Miami, his nerves were on fire, feeling like he was always just one step behind her. She’d checked in with the field office but twenty-four hours later, she’d gone on vacation and no one knew where, all they could tell him is she wasn’t due back to the office for a month. Where the fuck could she go for a month?

It took him two days and breaking protocol, something he did with ease; to find out she was in Rome. How the fuck was he going to find her there? He’d never been to Rome and no idea where to start. That was when he broke into her new apartment, searching for any clue and found just the name of a museum, Galleria Borghese. What the fuck was he doing, chasing some woman across the fuckin world? This was out of character for him, he was the fuck em, use em, kick em to the curb kind of man but now he was standing at a ticket counter, passport in hand, heading to Italy.

Everything she’d done since she landed were things she did on the fly. There was no rhyme or reason to where she went, how she spent her days, just happy to be away from drugs and death. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her job but Columbia had taken a lot out of her and she needed time to breathe, to find herself again. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Javi. The night they shared had been everything she had ever wanted, and yet, she knew it was impossible. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d come here instead of staying close to home. Maybe she was running and didn’t even know it. Maybe she was just a tad crazy about a man who went through women like he did cigarettes.

She wandered around Rome, trying to take in what was around her from Vatican City, to The Colosseum, every art museum and tonight to the Trevi Fountain. She’d learned that it was best to go at night, the crowds were not as bad and to make sure she threw three coins into to the water. Gelato in hand, she was standing at the edge of the fountain, the white marble still warm from the sun that had beat down on it from the day. Even she had to admit that it was beautiful and again that is when her mind went back to Javi. Fuck, why the hell did she had to be in love with that man? He was more a man of action, not of words. She had seen him break hearts before, and knew she was just another casualty.

The Trevi Fountain loomed ahead, Javi been all over the tourist places and had come up empty. He was frustrated, pissed and was beginning to wonder if he should just go back home and wait however there was one small problem, he was not a patient man, anyone who worked with him could tell ya that much. When he reached the fountain, the third time he’d been there, the coins glinted at the bottom, knowing each one was a wish, a hope and without a coin to toss in, he couldn’t help but think about his own wish, to find Elise. He was too stubborn, refusing to go back and wait. That was when he saw her, sitting at the very edge of the fountain, rubbing fingers over his eyes to make sure it really was her. About fuckin time, he thought, as he watched her throw a single coin over her shoulder. He moved towards her, pushing his way through the crowd, ignoring annoyed mutters and sharp glares of the other tourists he jostled aside. He was less than a foot away from her before he stopped, “What did you wish for?”

Shock couldn’t even begin to describe the look on her face when she saw him standing there, asking what she’d wished for. He looked out of place among the tourists and well everything that Rome was but his eyes were intense, filled with determination, a look she’d seen before when they were in Columbia. “Javi what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I came for you.”

“Why? My assignment in Columbia is over, so is yours so I am a little confused as to again why you’re here.”

Grabbing her hand, he began tugging her away from the fountain, looking for someplace where they could talk, finding a doorway, he pushed her back against the old, faded brick, kissing her, tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting lemon against her lips before he pulled away from her. “Why the fuck did you leave Bogota without saying goodbye?”

“Wait you came all the way to fuckin Italy to ask me that? Are you insane?”

“No. Yes. Fuck. I came here because I didn’t realize until I woke up to an empty bed, a fucking note, and you gone, that I love you.”

“You have lost your mind. Javi please don’t do this because I seriously can’t handle it. I’ve seen you with other women, I’ve seen you use them, hell I’ve seen you break them, and I can’t be just another one in a long line of em.”

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re not just another one of them. Te quiero hermosa.”

“Yea heard you say that a time or two. Look, what happened that night, it was, and this is not to feed your ego, was amazing but I am also not stupid. I can’t take the chance that this is nothing more than a fling and, in the end, the only one picking up the pieces is me as you move on to whoever can give you intel on whatever big bad you’re chasing.”

“God you fucking talk too much.” He kissed her again, hands wrapping in the thickness of her hair, before he nipped his way to her shoulder, teeth and lips, digging into the curve of muscle and sinew, suckling until he heard her gasp, her fingers digging into his hips. The tip of his tongue ran over the red mark on her skin, knowing he marked again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now every man in Rome will know that you belong to me.”

“I am not a possession Javier Pena.”

“Fuck I didn’t mean it that way. God damn it, Elise. No one is fuckin perfect but I’m standing in the middle of a fucking country I’ve never been to, chasing you around the globe wanting you, no one else, why can’t you see that?”

She stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with shock, his words hitting her like the tidal wave crashing over her. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out, “Because I don’t want to be hurt, can’t you understand that? I’ve been in love with you, all this time and there is a part of me that wants you too, to love all the parts you are. Demanding, possessive, passionate, asshole, dedicated. The risk? Of this? Of believing you want me this much is something I don’t know how to handle.”

“It’s not going to be cut and dry baby. It ain’t like intel where you dissect it all. Just feel it.” He took a deep breath, frustration giving away to relief, stepping closer, eyes locking onto hers. “I get it hermosa, never been down this road before with anyone. Scared shitless that I’ll fuck it up but let’s try to see where this goes.”

Feeling the warmth of his body against her, hearing all the words, let’s be honest, every woman wants to hear, “Okay,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Something in the back of her mind was telling her this was a mistake, of the highest, but fuck it, she thought, because she didn’t want to be that person who turns a hundred and has regrets. Fingers tugged on the belt loops of his jeans, she pulled him closer, tongue tracing the outline of his jugular, skin tangy with the salt of his sweat.

His breath caught as she pulled him closer, feeling her mouth against his throat. “I just want to get away from all of this. Just you and me, away from the crowds, from everything. I want to be alone with you, beneath me. Fuck we need to go now or I am going to take you against this building and we’re getting arrested.”

As dawn began to creep along the city, fingers pinched her nipples as she straddled him, hips rolling in circles, his cock buried deep within her body, he pulled her down to him, lips hard and demanding against hers, devouring her orgasm as his spilled into her depths, her heartbeat erratic against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

His name was whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling with the aftermath of their orgasms, feeling his embrace tighten around her, hands now trailing down her back, she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as she rolled off of his body, laying on her side. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. We should stay in today, order room service.”

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her towards him, a hand cupping her breast, nipple still erect beneath his palm. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of you hermosa, so I am in agreement with you on that. Te amo.”

“Yo también te quiero, cariño.”

“Getting better with the Spanish.”

“Been practicing.”

Fuck, he thought, hearing his native language fall from her lips, he was in deep with her and it was a realization that hit him with a force of a hurricane, watching her as her eyes drifted closed, breathing steady as she fought staying awake, losing the battle. How the fuck had he fallen for her? He, who had always kept emotions in check, as he whored his way through Bogota, taking down drug cartels, not wanting involvement. Figured he would be scared out of his fucking mind but he wasn’t. The last thought he had before sleep claimed him? How he could get re-assigned to Miami.

#studioghibelli #javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #narcos

25 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Finite

Pairings: Desire of the Endless x vampire!Reader Word Count: 10.5k word Warnings: NSFW, smut, death of unimportant character, blood sucking, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, p in v sex, multilple orgasms, slight dacryphilia, desire being fucking sexy... A/N: I think this got deleted somehow so I'm reposting it. This was my first Desire fic so I hope you still like it, lol.

This night reminds you of that one song. That song that goes on and on and on and on.

You have the whole setup. The singer in a smokey room sings her song on a tiny stage for a crowd of people who really aren't paying attention to her. The smell in the air isn't necessarily wine, but there is plenty of beer and whiskey and perfume, all of which are the cheap brands no one cares for but also don't care enough to be picky about. The smell is thick in the air. The murkiness aggravates you and clings uncomfortably to your skin, but you've dealt with worse enough not to care.

You have hunted better crowds, but you aren't really looking for hundreds of bodies at a festival too preoccupied to notice one or two missing people, nor are you looking for a frivolous venue where people are too rich for others to miss. It's not a great bar, but it's nice enough and big enough that people don't mind coming for a drink or two. There are tons of people tonight. Everything is half-off, and they'd rather pay less for more of the cheap, crappy booze than more for the expensive stuff.

It's late. There's a get-together occupying a couple of booths at one end of the room, a few people lining the seats of the bar, and more clusters occupying any empty spaces left. As the singer starts a new, more energized song, a small mass of people flock to the open space to dance. Most of it is drunk dancing, the kind with swaying hips and lidded eyes and waving hands.

You've been here for a few hours, tucked away in your booth with a drink in front of you that you haven't really touched. One of the bartenders, Carlos, knows you and always gives you half-off drinks because you come often and hardly order. He knows you like to pick up hot dates, sometimes you take them home and other times you sit and talk until one of you leaves—and on the occasion that you take someone home and he never sees them again, he’s smart enough not to question anything and be happy that there’s one less asshole for him to serve. He glances at you across the bar, giving a thumbs up to ask if you're okay. You nod back, smiling gently before turning your attention away again toward a couple sitting across the bar.

She's tucked under his arm, smiling wide as she cradles her drink in both hands. He smiles back at her, his hand on her arm rubbing circles. He's cheating on her. Just ten minutes before, after he'd told her he needed to use the restroom, you saw him down the hall with some other girl against the wall. She was also smiling and giggling, his arm above her and closing her in. He gave her his number before he left to his original girl.

You shake your head and turn away.

There's a woman sitting at the bar. She has been sitting there for a while, her phone in her hands as she types away at what you're assuming is a heated conversation. Her brows are furrowed, full of tension. She's slouched over her phone, her elbows on the counter and her knuckles clenched.

Your eyes flicker over when movement catches your attention. You glance over at a man approaching her, a smile on his face as he grows nearer.

"Hey," he says, leaning on his elbow next to her and eyeing her up and down, sizing her up like a predator does its prey. She looks up, bringing her glass closer to her and discreetly setting her palm over it.

“Yes?” she responds, shifting away from him.

“I saw you across the room,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. She shifts uncomfortably at his closeness, moving away from him as much as she could without standing. “You look lonely.”

She glances briefly around her. “I’m actually waiting for someone,” she lies, looking around again as if to solidify her words.

He shrugs again, easing a step closer. “Yeah? Why don’t I keep you company while you wait, huh?” You’ve already moved to your feet, walking over toward the pair, the short heel of your shoes clicking dully on the wooden floor and becoming a rhythm in the back of your brain that echoes there like a silent warning.

“I’m okay,” she says, ready to stand and leave now.

“I insist.”

You come up to the bar, leaning over it and looking for Carlos with a smile. “Hey, can I get a refill, please?” Carlos spots you and nods, his own smile on his lips as he grabs a bottle and heads toward you.

The man looks at you, his attention shifting as he eyes your little black dress. His smirk widens and he looks at the girl. “S’cuse me, sweetheart.” As he makes his way over to you, fixing his hair as he does, you look away and pretend not to notice.

Your eyes scan the bar briefly, looking for no one in particular as they do. As you’re bringing your focus back around, you suddenly stop as a vision of white catches your eyes. There, tucked away in a dark corner of the room but somehow glowing like an enchanted treasure, is a person you had yet to notice.

White hair is combed and styled away from a pale face, whose blood red lips hide white teeth. Golden eyes watch you, staring into your soul as they glow and flicker with mischief and temptation. You’re stuck, gazing at such a charming creature as those red painted lips curl in an alluring grin.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?”

Your attention is swiftly taken again as you look back at the real reason you had come over here. “Oh,” you mumble, glancing back over your shoulder at the figure who had disappeared, as though they had never existed to begin with. You look back at the man, shaking your head gently and letting a smile take your lips again as you refocus. “Uh, yeah. I’d love that.”

The woman glances at you, her eyes both relieved for herself and worried about you. As your eyes meet, your smile softens and you give her a wink. You watch her lips shift, a tiny smile making its way to her own lips as she takes your response with gratitude. She flags down Carlos and pays for her drink before she gathers her things and leaves before the guy notices her again. She mouths a “thank you” to you as she does.

You almost tense as his hand lands on the small of your back, his thumb stroking you there as he leans in some more. You look up at him over your shoulder, offering him a reflection of the smirk on his face as you turn your body to face him. You lean in closer, your hand on his chest as you take him in. As you size him up. The apex predator to prey higher up the food chain. “We can skip the drink if you want…” You lower your voice to a smooth seduction, tapping your fingers against his chest and looking at him through your lashes. You nearly whisper, “I think we can have a little more fun if we get out of here. How does that sound?”

He chuckles darkly. “Like music to my ears.”

You move out of his grip as you wave to Carlos and saunter toward the door. He follows after you, holding a hand out as he sets it on your hip. You glance over your shoulder as you walk, continuing to beckon him as you both step out into the slight chill of the night, surrounding you in a darkness that’s only dangerous for one of you.

You listen to the slowing of a dying heart, rapid thumps reduced to faint rattles against a weak chest. The blood coursing through his veins slowly diminishes, coming in smaller gulps than before as you take your fill, quenching your thirst for as long as his bittersweet taste will hold you.

The fight left a long time ago—and you let him fight. He wasn't very strong.

You pull away from his throat with a long sigh, your head lolling back as the sharp canines in your gums retract to an unassuming point. You hum, looking down at his lifeless face before dropping him carelessly to the dirty stone ground.

You shudder, wiping the blood from the corner of your mouth with a drunken grin.

"Psst."

You tilt your chin toward your shoulder, stilling completely to listen to the unmoving air around you. You wait, slowly shifting your chin to the other side as your eyes scan the space you can see without turning around.

“Hello, dear…”

That voice. It melts on your skin like caramel, warm and smooth and rich. It’s got a rasp to it that rolls in your chest, echoes off your bones like footsteps on a marble floor.

You hum gently, turning around as you look around for the disembodied voice. You raise a brow, “Hello.” Cracking a small grin, you place your hands in your pockets and sigh. “Come on out. Don’t be shy,” you beckon. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Your tone is akin to comforting a frightened animal to your arms, the added taunt a whisper in your words.

But it seems they’ve got some taunts of their own.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

You chuckle lightly, doing one more small circle around yourself to ensure whoever is watching knows just how amused you are by the theatrics. “Then why are you still whispering from the shadows?” you wonder aloud.

A chuckle rolls out of them, a deep, throaty sound that sinks into your flesh. The sound of footsteps reverberates along the dark walls of the buildings surrounding the two of you. The echoed laugh which once bounced off the space around you now focused on one spot as shadows became a silhouette of a person. As a silhouette became a person, you cast your eyes upon an enchanting being as you looked them up and down appreciatively.

They are wearing black, similarly to you—it just makes things easier on nights like these—and a deep red that pops against porcelain skin. A lacey red bustier is worn tight around their body, intricately designed like the expensive fabric of royals. Their slacks and floor length blazer are dark as night, accented with gold jewelry and heels—like the thick golden chain around their neck holding a heavy heart over their chest.

You tilt your head to the side. “You were at the bar.”

The face from the bar that had briefly distracted you from tonight’s prey smiled. “I was.”

You look them up and down again. “Who are you?” They tilt their head, inquiring more. You shrug, “You’re not human. You aren’t like me.” You straighten your back a little, your brows furrowing as a new solemnity sinks in, “Who are you?”

They smile wide, another chuckle slipping from them as they shake their head at you. Asking the wrong questions, it seems. “Who I am doesn’t really matter, dear,” they say in a voice warm and smokey, like the embers of a fire.

“Oh?” you hum. “Then what really matters, pray tell?”

“You.” Your breath stilled in your chest, though you said nothing. “The reason I'm here. I looked at you and I saw…” They make a face, one full of curiosity as they try to find a word that accurately describes what they mean to say, looking away as if the walls had the answer and waving a hand.

“What?” you encourage.

They breathe in deep, turning their gaze back upon you. Their smile widens again, full of mischief and…something else. “Longing,” they rasp. “So much longing.” They sigh, their hands finding their pockets once more and their head shaking slowly. A click of their heels marks another step toward you. “What is that I saw in you?”

A gentle shrug of your shoulders brushes off the question. “I’ve lived centuries,” you say. “There is plenty to ‘see in me’.”

They watch you like they’re unconvinced, looking you up and down with a skeptical gaze. “And yet…”

You sigh, shifting from one foot to the other as you regard them with a little more impatience than before. “What does it matter that I tell you?”

They laugh again, a little louder this time with that same bravado as before. “All this talk about what matters…” They wave a hand dismissively, rolling their eyes as they go before finding your gaze again and taking another step forward, “It doesn’t. The only difference between telling me or telling the wind is that the wind has no power.”

You raise a brow, “And you do?”

The pride that shines in their face as they smile, tilting their chin up just to look down on you. “Let’s just say…” they lean forward just enough to make the point, “I can give you what you want.”

Your eyes flicker away for a split of a second. “How?”

“Well, that depends.” They shrug a shoulder, still taking a couple more steps toward you, stalking like a predator as they slowly move closer and closer. Who the apex is in this situation, you're unsure now. “Tell me, dear… What is it you desire?” Their voice washes over you and warms you chest in a way that makes you shudder.

A war goes on between the very fibers of your being. The better half of you that doesn’t believe in these tricks is ready to feed on the luscious scent of their blood and be done with it, but that other part nagging you about what is and what can be is telling you to heed their words, if only with caution. You stand there, contemplating with yourself for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds.

If you entertain them a little while longer, it could end up changing your life forever or simply be another hour of your immortal soul ticked away into the past. There’s no real harm in it.

So you look them in the eye and play along, your answer as blunt as you can make it to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.

“Freedom.”

They tilt their head. “From what?”

“This. This life.” Something in you had you speaking before your brain could come up with a more logical, stoic answer. It’s as though the truth was being pulled from you, word by tantalizing word. Your hands leave your pockets and you’re the one stepping closer this time as you speak. “I want to be human again, feel human again,” you confess with only a little bit of the desperation you feel. You lick your lips, your tongue wandering to the fang hiding behind them. “I’ve been living like this for too long.”

They regard you, taking you in with a tilted chin and a calculating gaze. They hum, smiling gently. “Perhaps…” The smile falls and their head tilts back down, “but no.”

You shake your head, confusion seeping into your face. “No?”

“I can see your heart. I feel its warmth, its want, its need.” They step forward again, but this time their feet carry them in a path around you as they circle and speak, evaluating your body as if looking right through you. You don’t move, sighing and rolling your eyes as you stand there. Their scent swirls around you like the sweetest perfume, and you’re already starving again at the smell of it. “You want to feel human, but being human isn’t the same.”

They shake their head, biting their lower lip as they sigh. “No, you don’t want mortality. You want something so much harder to obtain. Something humans and gods alike can go entire lifetimes without having.”

You raise a brow, already tired of this conversation. “Which is?”

They stop in front of you, their smile almost a sneer by the way it condescends you, mocking you as though you could not rip them apart. “Love.”

You straighten your back a little more, not appreciating being read like this, having desires shown to you that you had locked away a long time ago. They are wrong. You don’t want that anymore, you’ve seen it too many times, felt it too many times. It’s always too good to last.

But they continued. “You want to love and to be loved. The most basic want of all life,” they shrug, glancing away like the prospect is so trivial, “and yet the most foolish.” They chuckle at that, the thought absurd.

You chuckle as well, though yours is filled with a little more irritation than amusement as you shake your head. You lick your bottom lip and direct a sneer of your own toward them. “Only a fool would hold out hope for love with what I’ve learned.”

They raise their brows, perking up in a cat-like fashion. “And what is that?”

You take your time answering. “Love is fleeting.” Silence fills the space between the two of you in the moments where you aren’t speaking. They watch intently, clinging to every word with a kind of delight and fascination that makes you huff. “It can be as cold as ice and as raging as fire. It can die out just as quick or," your lips almost curve in a fond smile, "live for decades.” You hesitate, looking away for a moment as you frown again.

“But it always ends. One way or another, everything ends.” There’s a kind of heartbreak in your voice that they have not heard in a very long time. It makes the delight in their chest dwindle to something a little more sober. Their eyes land on a necklace hanging over your chest, listening to you as they stare at the trinket. You shake your head from solemn thoughts. “I learned not to love a long time ago. Saves a lot of heartache.”

They look back up to your eyes where your gazes linger in the other’s. There’s a sort of understanding now, a moment where the both of you are no longer just non-human entities meeting and toying with the other, a moment where you’re finally on the same page.

They breathe in, breaking the silence with the most care. “And yet…” a pause to sigh, “your heart aches.”

You look away, clenching your jaw. Shaking your head, you turn back to them, your willingness to go along with this joke dwindling by the second. “Enough of this,” you say. “You cannot get me what I want, I have no use of you. But your blood…” You smile with teeth, allowing your fangs to protrude once more. “Well, your blood smells delicious.”

They almost look offended as they look at you, but not in the least bit afraid. They stand up straighter, chest puffing out a little more. “Who says I can't get you what you want?” They tilt their head to the side, raising a hand to their chest where their fingers brush the thick golden heart. “Do you know who I am?”

You shrug dismissively. “Someone’s wasting my time.” You breathe a humorless laugh. “Which is strange, as mine is so infinite at the moment.”

They shake their head, turning and walking away slowly, their head tilted toward their shoulder to speak to you. “Nothing is infinite. Nothing is endless.” They pause, looking at you fully with a taunting grin. “Except for me, of course.”

You freeze. The annoyance washes into fascination. Your eyes go wide and your lips part, but it’s a full-bodied reaction as you stare in wonder. “Endless…” you mutter, the silent suspicion you’d turned down as soon as it appeared coming back to the surface at the word, the revelation. “So you are. You’re an Endless.”

The delight has returned, pride and regality accompanying it. “You know me?”

“Of course, I do,” you reply. “You’re Desire.”

Their smile is the widest you’ve seen it, shining with a type of superiority that finally suits them with the new information pinned to their character. The stories are definitely true—they are the most alluring being you have ever laid eyes on. But not only that, the mischief and taunting surrounding their name through time also seem to have plenty of truth to it.

“Clever girl.” Their voice is deep with that smoky rasp. You nearly shudder again.

A new seriousness washed over you at another realization. “So you can give me what I want.”

“With a price, yes.” Their arms crossed over their chest in a delicate way, their head inclined upward as they regarded you. “Would you like to hear it?”

You take a moment to decide, scanning the face of this powerful entity. “They warn about making deals with Desire of the Endless.”

They raise a brow, a curious look glittering in their eyes. “Who?”

You scoff, “Anyone who’s ever heard of Desire of the Endless.”

Desire shrugs a shoulder, seemingly proud of the reputation they’ve built. “Well, ‘anyone’ would be correct.” They narrow their golden eyes, smirking, “But I have a feeling you don’t necessarily have much care for such things, do you?”

“Not necessarily,” you admit. You stare into their eyes, unwavering as you thought, trying to make a solid decision but still heeding the warnings and caution you’ve heard in reference to beings like these. “What do you want?” you asked.

They breathe in deep, looking you up and down as a mischievous grin widens red lips. Their lips part, beginning to find shape around their reply as they watch. “You.”

You hold your breath but do nothing else to give away the anticipation. You figured as much but you hadn’t cared enough to actually put belief into it as you spoke. The idea has your pulse jumping and your breath thinning. You hum, shrugging it off. “That’s all?”

They shrug as well. “What else is there for me to want?”

You raise a brow. “No agent of desire to bring you back wanting and wayward souls?”

They wave that off. “Oh, I have plenty of those.” Taking a step forward, their height becomes a little more apparent as your head tilts back slightly to hold eye contact. Their index finger comes to rest over their lips, curling back down to their chin.

Desire’s gaze was hot on your face, dragging over your body and filling you with more heat than even a fresh kill could provide. They evaluated you, your body, your face, the very essence of your soul, and you hate that you shudder under their scrutinization as they do. They shake their head, amused. “No, your body will do just fine.”

You swallow thickly. “And, if I do it. If I say yes…” your heart jumps at the idea, “you’ll make me human?”

They tilt their head. “No.” They walk past you, waving a hand as they begin a slow circle once more, still taking in every inch of your body with a warming appreciation. “Unfortunately, I do not have that power. But,” they smile again, breathing in as they stand in front of you once more, “I can give you what you crave more.”

You roll your eyes, beginning to turn away from them. “I don’t want–”

“I can give you someone to love.” You pause, your back turned as you become completely still. You feel as though your body is shaking as you stand there, refusing to face them as you cling to every saccharine word falling from their lips. “Someone whose life won’t be so fleeting and needlessly fragile. You’ll have love for them for as long as your soul has the potential to have it.”

You blink, looking down at the ground as you contemplate, letting the silence stretch between you. Your lips tingle as you part them to speak, though it takes a moment for the sounds to even breach your lips. “And…”

“And?”

You sigh silently. “Will…” You lick your lips, slowly turning on your heel to face them, taking a moment too long to meet their gaze. “Will they love me back?” Your voice is so quiet, so desperate for something that feels so unobtainable. You hate it but you ignore it for the sake of hope, of possibility.

A shoulder rises and sinks slowly. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” It’s a possibility, at least.

They step forward, beginning to shorten the distance again. “I can promise you this… you will be happy.” The look in their eyes, for the first time all night, seemed to hold a dash of empathy as they watched you.

You swallow the smallest lump in your throat, glancing away. “But none of it would be real.”

“Who says?” Their brow furrows at your words. Desire shakes their head, “This love will not be made artificial, otherwise it would fail. I will simply…ignite what is already there, amplify it to outweigh doubt and petty apprehensions. This love will be as real as you or me, as real as the sun’s fire or the stars burning thousands of lightyears away.”

Their poetry clings to your bones, making you believe for a moment that Desire isn’t just a creature of lust but one of true love and affection. You watch, your breath shallow in your lungs, your throat tight, and your heart stuttering against your ribcage. As Desire stepped forward and into your space, your symptoms worsened. Their eyes never left yours.

“This love will be genuine, and it will last in its full intensity for as long as there is the smallest ember of need or want for it.” They raise a hand, a slender finger hooking under your chin and their thumb tenderly stroking the skin there. They tilt your head up, tugging gently on your bottom lip. “It is entirely up to your heart to decide.”

Your eyes glue to their own lips as yours tingled with a desire for more than these teasing touches. It takes a moment to find your voice again.

“Who is it?”

They smile wide. “Well, that spoils the fun, doesn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, still not daring to move in case they break away from you. “Do I know them, at least?”

They shrug. “In a manner of speaking.”

You sigh. “Do you ever give straight answers?”

Your worst fears come true when Desire breaks away from you, stepping away with a sigh and a raised brow. “Do you ever stop asking questions for me to give unclear answers to?”

You roll your eyes, catching your breath again. You need the oxygen to think, and you only just realized you were holding your breath. Desire waits patiently for you to decide.

You bite your bottom lip, feeling your heart thump. You peek up at them through your lashes, the look you give too vulnerable for your liking. “I will be happy?”

“The happiest.”

“Then…” you take in a deep, steadying breath and nod gently. “I accept.”

A smile splits their face in two as they look at you, pride and entertainment and something else filling their face to the brim as their tongue slips between their teeth to lick a sharp canine. They walk forward in strides, taking an arm around your waist and pulling you in as your breath hitches.

“Then let us begin.”

Lips and teeth and tongue clash together in some mad, lustful dance. Fingers tangle in hair and hands grasp at shirts and skin, desperate for the touch of intimacy—soft or rough, it did not matter. What matters is the skin on skin contact that had not yet been breached as Desire pushes you against the glossy, red walls of the Threshold.

Your hands have found their hair so many times, it's a disheveled mess. One of their hands travel up your side, cradling the side of your neck before rounding to the front to cup it, squeezing gently and making your lips part as you gasp. A chuckle borders on a growl as their teeth nip your bottom lip, trailing down to your jaw.

"Look at you," their voice is a deeper rasp in your ear, warming your body to an impossible temperature. "You're so hungry for my touch, aren't you?"

Your hands begin pulling off the long black coat until it pools on the ground, already gone from your mind. Their bare arms are revealed to you, smooth like the porcelain they reflect. You were reaching for their crimson belt before their hand grabs at you, a firm but gentle tug on your jaw as their fingers dig into your skin.

A sort of growl erupts from their throat as they smile down at you, “Answer me, my pet.”

You breathe a shallow breath as you nod, forced to look them in the eye and melt at the sight. “Yes,” you reply.

They devour you once more, lips to lips, chest to chest. Your hand wraps around their back, tangling in their hair once more. You tug back just enough to expose their neck, pressing your lips there as you kiss and nip and suck. It takes a lot not to sink your teeth into the awaiting flesh—or at least, not completely. You did bite down, unable to help yourself, but not enough to draw blood. A rough moan grumbles out of them at the sensation, bending down to pick you up and wrap your legs around them.

“Naughty girl,” they breathe in the middle of a heated kiss.

You bite their lip, smiling wide at their shuddered breaths. Without letting go, you grin deeply as you whisper, “I can be worse.”

“Oh,” they chuckle, the word almost a moan. “Promise?”

In the next moment, you’re falling backwards. Before you can try to catch yourself, your back lands on a plush mattress covered in silk and a multitude of pillows, red and black like just about everything else in this place. The bed was huge and round, you could fit ten people on it and still have room for more.

As you're looking around yourself, Desire’s lips find your neck again and you melt against them. You curse under your breath, drunk on the feeling as you gasp. Their hand slips underneath your shirt, going up, up, up until their palm cups your breast over your bra. You are shaken to your core when their hands claw around the bra and rip it from your body, tearing it off of you and tossing it away like trash.

They grope you underneath your dress, which is somehow hotter than if they had stripped you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you moan, but their voice next to your ear has you shivering at a command. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetling.” You make yourself do as you’re told, breathing heavily as you do.

They hum deeply, watching you with an admiration and lust filled gaze that would have made you clench your thighs, had their body not been between them. “Beautiful,” they sigh.

They entwine their fingers with your own, pulling them above your head and pinning them there as they continue to watch you. It isn’t until you feel something fuzzy around your wrists and hear the faint but telling click of metal when you realize just what they had been up to.

You look up at the furry white cuffs around your wrists, chaining you to the bed and leaving you vulnerable. Their hands stroke your sides, smiling wide as they kiss your neck, knowing how much you love it, how much you melt and moan at the feeling of your throat being caressed and touched and bitten.

Their lips ghost over your jaw as they speak in a deep whisper. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to slow down, and I will. Tell me to keep going…” their smile widens, mischievous, dangerous, “and I just might.”

You watch them, your lungs hardly being utilized at this point. They raise a brow, “Understand?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I can’t hear you,” they say in a sing-songy voice.

“Yes, sire,” you say, louder this time as you feel your skin tingling.

“Good girl.”

This time it is a growl and your skin is no longer tingling, it’s on fire. You watch them travel down the column of your throat, reaching your clothed chest and taking the fabric between their teeth. Their hands find the neckline of your dress, grasping and ripping it down the middle with no regard for it. They smile in appreciation of your skin revealed to them.

“I liked that dress,” you mumble.

“Well, I like it more like this.” They dangle the fabric and drop it on the floor with a dashing smile. You roll your eyes, interrupted as lips press to the bare skin of your belly, leaving red lipstick behind. You think they did it on purpose, because only the single print of a pair of lips is tattooed on your belly, but no other marks are left after that one. Their tongue pokes out every now and then licking your skin, usually after their teeth have nipped you.

All of this teasing will be the end of you. Desire of the Endless knows how to pleasure, to bring you to the edge of lust with a few words, a few touches, a few kisses. They’ve given you all three, and you’re going to blow.

“Please,” you whisper, squirming underneath them.

Their face lights up at the sounds as they look at you, still caressing your skin as they do. “What was that?”

You sigh, “Please, Desire.” You bend your knees, spreading your legs wide to invite them in. You'll beg if it means an end to the taunting. “Please touch me.”

Their hands find purchase along your thighs. “You’re so needy, my pet.” They kiss low on your belly again, palms smoothing over your legs. Taking the fabric of your panties in their hands, they rip them from your body and throw them away. You roll your eyes, but your sass is interrupted when a warm, wet tongue licks wide along your pussy.

The heightened sensations course through your veins like fire and a low moan simmers from your throat. You curse under your breath when their lips wrap around you, tongue plunging between your folds and filling you with pleasure.

You tug on the chains, moving to break them with your sheer strength, but they don't budge. You feel their lips spread wider in an almost malicious smirk. They curl their tongue inside of you, suckling on your clit before pulling away and licking their lips, the red still intact.

"You're not getting out of those," they purr. "Trust me."

You almost scoff at that. "Trust me". Yeah, right.

But, at the same time, you're the one chained to the bed with your legs spread open for (the equivalent of) the god of desire. Your thoughts are immediately disassembled once more when lips find the hot junction of your thighs.

Your knees bend and you squirm at the feeling, your eyes closing as you toss your head back. Their fingers curl tighter around your thighs as they feed off your pleasure, straying from your cunt to lick along damp thighs, teeth finding the plush skin just to sink into it.

Your back arches then, a deeper moan clawing at your throat as that ecstacy spreads. Fuck, you hadn't realized just how much you enjoyed having someone else sink their teeth into your flesh for once, to have someone else feed off of you just for the pleasure of it.

"Desire," you moan, unable to hold back this time from your audible arousal. You didn't want to give so much satisfaction to a being already so smug. But they did deserve it—a sort of giving credit where it's due.

You pull at your restraints again, whimpering when nails like claws dig into your skin and scratch down the length of them to give rise to angry red lines. You bite down on your lip. You draw blood.

You don't seem like the only one who can smell it when their mischievous face peers up at you with that curling grin, traveling back up the length of you to kiss hungrily at awaiting lips. What you share shouldn't be described as a kiss, not with the way you both bite and tear, devouring one another in a rough but empowering passion.

The taste of your blood is sweet in nature as they lick it from your lip. You wrap your legs around their waist, and they smile as they move one hand to support one. "Oh, baby," they groan. "You are divine."

You bite their lip in return, hard enough just to manage the slightest taste of the aroma that had been so attractive before. Though it's hardly a sample, the taste is like nothing you have ever had before. Human blood was great, especially coming from someone whose blood was pure, but this… You would kill for this. You would maim and massacre for this.

Another moan draws from you, fangs returning at the intoxicating taste. Before you can think to control yourself, you lunge forward in an attempt to take a bite out of them, just a nibble, just a taste. But Desire could not have been quicker as a pale hand wraps around your neck and stops you, pinning you down against the bed with a malicious smirk and a cruel laugh.

You come back to yourself almost immediately as the mist clears, reminding you who you are and what you’ve just done. For half a second, shame and panic fills you before you return to an unapologetic stoicism.

"Now, now, my little sapling," they tut, leaning in with no care for safety to whisper in your ear. "You'll get a taste of me soon enough."

The promise of such a treat fills the pit of your stomach with warmth that spreads throughout your body and tingles in all the right places. If you weren't already aroused before, you were practically dripping now, salivating at the prospect. Their lips find your neck, tongue darting out to lick over a vein before biting down into the skin there and lighting a fire within you.

Your arms flex against the cuffs and a restlessness fills your bones. You need more.

A slender finger pokes at the slick folds of your cunt, tracing the seam with an annoying amount of expertise before slipping inside. It fills you, inch by inch until it's buried to the hilt. In and out, their finger dips and curls and coaxes gentle whimpers from you. Adding another finger, and then another still, your whimpers become louder as pace builds.

"You're so wet, my darling," they dawn, the words dissolving in a moan as they speak. "Could it be that you wanted this so badly? You needed it?" They shift down to take a nipple into their mouth, flicking and sucking with teeth and tongue. The shift gave a new angle as they continue to create a speed that has your hips bucking. The sounds of a palm slapping against a soaking little cunt fill the space and your moans are next to follow.

"Listen to you," they continue, voice dripping with arousal. "So needy, so wanting. And look at you," they laugh, "You're practically begging me to fuck you dumb."

You don't respond. You don't know what you'd respond with—Nuh-uh? You buck your hips up some more, losing breath over the way their tongue massages your nipple, licking into it and somehow creating the most overwhelming pleasure out of the smallest thing.

You miss it when they pull away, kissing down to your belly again before their mouth is met with your pretty pussy once more. They don't waste time as their lips and tongue create an assault on your clit.

Their fingers continue to pump inside of you, driving you mad with the aid of their skilled tongue. Your curses don't seem to matter, no matter how much you make them as you continue to let your hips seek out the pleasure. When it becomes too much and too little all at once and it all feels like teasing, your body moves before your mind to flip yourself over onto your knees, shifting to accommodate for the fact that you are still very much cuffed to the bed.

Desire is pleasantly surprised by the new angle, situated under you with your desperate hips against their face. Golden eyes flutter shut, playing along as fingers dig into the meat of your ass to guide you in your grinding. It almost sounds like muttering as they moan underneath you, the vibrations trembling along your spine.

After a particularly rough grind, they reward you with a smack to your ass, grabbing the flesh momentarily before rubbing their palms against you again. As they suckle around your clit, slowly adding more pressure to pull you closer to your release, you moan and sigh, eager for that release to fill you.

You throw your head back and gasp when you cum, thighs trembling and shaking as they refuse to let up. As the aftershocks spark, electricity in your veins, your fingers tangle in their hair as you sit up, pulling your hips away to catch your breath.

They lick their lips, tasting you on their skin with an immense amount of appreciation. "You are delectable, my sweet," they purr, undoing the furry cuffs with a chuckle and sitting up to pull you into their lap.

"You're not so bad yourself," you breathe as you wrap your arms around their shoulders. You lean forward, bumping your lips against theirs with a little bit too much intimacy before allowing yourself to soothe into the kiss, tasting yourself on their lips with a quiet hum.

Moving one hand over their chest, you slip it down slowly until you are finally able to undo the red belt wrapped around their waist. They smile against your lips as you slide your hand inside and meet slick folds. You make a short humming sound, almost a grunt.

"What?" they mumble against your lips. "Expecting something else?"

You shrug, leaning back in for a deeper kiss as you tease them, guiding your finger inside with a long stroke, adding a second in on the next one. A grumbling moan vibrated against your mouth.

With one hand tangled in their hair, you unweave your fingers in favor of finding the strings along their back, pulling at it slowly to remove the bustier hiding so much smooth skin from you. Just as you are able to loosen it, feeling it slipping off their form, they pull you back with a primal sound.

Desire pushes you off of them, to which you stare with kiss-swollen lips. You watch as they continue the process, finally stripping for you so you aren't the only one of you nude. They hover over you once again, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as you smooth a hand down their side, sticking your fingers back into the warmth of their pussy.

Their eyes flutter at the feeling, opening to look back at you with a seductive grin as they kiss you again.

Your bodies move together as you take your time to stroke and thrust, curling your fingers against all the right places to pull delicious moans from their perfect throat. You hold the side of their neck, bringing your lips to the other as you nibble at the skin, practically salivating at the scent of what lies just on the other side of such delicate flesh.

You chuckle as a sigh passes their lips when you pull your hands from them. They cast an almost disappointed look upon you as you wrap your arms around them and sit up, pushing them onto their back. You hover over them this time, kissing their lips quickly before you shift to kiss down their body.

You hadn't intended to tease at first, but as your lips brushed over their clit, you pause, looking up with a smirk. Staring at them, you kiss it gently before moving down again to kiss along their thighs.

"Oh, don't you dare," they chuckle darkly, watching you take a thigh in your hand and smother it with lips and tongue and teeth. You ignore them, continuing to give affection to the skin there as you switch sides.

They huff your name—a name you had not yet given prior to all of this—and lean back with closed eyes. "Fuck, will you make me beg?"

Your smirk deepens as your teeth nibble at the skin just above their femoral artery. "I might," you chuckle.

They don't reply at first, holding on to the pride they'd dangled over you since they met you in the alleyway. The teasing becomes too unbearable to endure as you draw closer and closer to the place they wanted you most to be. They give in with a huffed "fine" after you'd reflected on how you could do this all night—you only have an eternity.

"Alright, please," they mumble, a hand finding your hair and grasping. "Please forget your insistent taunting and fuck me."

You'd take it.

With one last kiss to the top of their knee, you smile. "Okay." They roll their eyes but you cut them off with your lips on their slick cunt. It's not as they expected it to be as you immediately go in for the prey, your tongue plunging in and out, your lips suckling on a pulsing clit. Their hands tangle in the bedsheets before upgrading to your messy hair once more.

You spread their legs wide, adding your fingers back after another long moment of listening to pleasant moans as you thrust them inside.

"That's it," they sigh. "Just like that, my darling." More praises fall from their lips throughout the time you spend with your head buried between their legs. You enjoy every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of their arousal as you coax it from them, taking the grinding of their hips every time you curl your fingers or suck on their clit. You could spend forever down here.

As their walls flutter around your fingers, you only work harder to get them toward the edge. And when you send them over it with a shuddering gasp melted into a louder moan than you'd expected, you smile proudly.

"Oh, fuck!" they breathe. "Such a good g-irl."

You hadn't expected Desire to be as vocal as they are, their fingers firm in your hair as they tug and gasp with a lewd grin in place. You let your tongue explore a moment longer before pulling away, licking the arousal still seeping. You turn your head toward their thigh again, licking over that same artery again with a tentative bite before kissing it and moving back to Desire's lips.

You sigh against their lips. "Are we done?"

They laugh like it was a joke. "Babygirl, not even close."

They actually growl when they take your head in their hands and kiss you, a rough and guttural sound as they pull you into their lap with your legs wrapped around them. They bite your bottom lip enough to draw blood again, trailing their lips further down to your neck as they paint you in their affection.

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean your head back, sighing as you feel the touch of their lips at your throat. You stiffen for a moment when a warm length presses against your folds. As you look down again, you're surprised to be greeted by a cock and not a cunt against yours.

Long fingers stroke it, fingertips gliding over the bottom and up to the tip where it glistens with precum.

"Expecting something else?" they repeat with a raised brow.

You shrug, choosing not to comment and worsen an already inflated ego. You lift yourself up a little on your knees as you kiss them again, allowing your hands to find their new home in the messy locks of Desire's hair. Their hands squeeze your hips, moving down some more to cup your ass in their palms with a sudden smack.

You mewl and roll your hips forward, your folds just slightly brushing over an erect cock that had not been there a mere minute ago. Flushed red at the tip, it was a generous size. It was actually perfect as you felt it rub against you.

Desire steadied you by your hips, bringing a hand to your chin as they spoke softly, in that smooth, smokey tone that melted on your skin like honey. "Do you want to continue, heartstring?"

You try to lean forward, to kiss your confirmation. They don't let you, pulling away just out of reach as they await your response. You nod gently, smoothing your knuckles along their jaw and licking your bottom lip. "Yes, sire," you whisper back, closing the distance once more with a tentative kiss as you sink back into them.

They moan against your mouth as you kiss, mixing with yours as they position themself at your wet cunt, sliding inside with ease and splitting you on their cock. You breathe each other's air this close to the other, fingers in soft white hair and hands on beautifully carved hips. You sit in their lap, taking a moment just to feel the length buried to the hilt inside of you. A shudder runs down your spine as their fingertips trace up your sides and along the line of your back.

You ease up on your knees, feeling them dragging along your walls as they pull out before you drop your weight back down in a measured stroke. Their hands find your hips again, guiding you on the second stroke, then the third, then the fourth. It isn't long before a pace builds and the careful sets of up and down become a breath-filled repetition of eager thrusts.

You bounce up and down on top of them, their hands gripping you as you brace yourself on their shoulders. Up and down and up and down, you give into the pleasure as the moans stifle in your throat on your own accord. As their lips trail along the column, it becomes harder. This spot will always be your weakness, and they know all too well as their teeth graze the skin.

"Hmm," they rasp. "Look at you, so eager." They pull your hips down for a rough thrust and a shocked gasp falls out of you. They breathe in sudden and deep, smiling as their face forms in a lustful look reminding you of relief and peace. They almost look softer like this, kinder. You work harder to embrace that look, to watch them as you find yourself addicted to the sight of it.

"Just like that," they say, breathy and light, the words almost sounding unfinished by a tongue made lazy. "Mmm, moan for me, dear. Let me hear how good you feel."

And again, you give in, allowing yourself to succumb to the rest of the pleasure taunting you as you release the moans hounded into your throat. "Desire," you whimper, the sound of your thighs smacking against their lap, both slick now from the arousal dripping out of you. You don't know what to say, you just want to let the sound of their name pleasure your mouth as their cock pleasures your cunt.

"Do you love it?" Tongue tracing, teeth biting, lips grazing. All these sensations burn in your heart, fills you with a fondness that eats away at the apathy you thought you'd grown over the years. “Do you love how I fuck you?”

Your teeth sink into your abused bottom lip, which slips from its grip pale before flushing with blood again. "I do," you huff. "I love it."

You grind in their lap, burying your face in the crook of their neck, teasing the skin with your teeth. Desire feels your fangs scraping their flesh and shudders. "Let it go," they rasp in your ear like the whispers of fate and destiny. "Give yourself to me… All to me."

With a breath not yet released, you sunk your teeth into warm flesh, piercing the skin and feeling the hot rush of ambrosia filling your mouth. You groan roughly, moving a hand to support the other side of their neck as you pull more and more of their essence into you, forgetting yourself in the temptations of Desire.

Their lips part as shallow breaths stutter out from their lungs. Repetitive mumbles of "yes, yes, yes," from their lips as you feed from them and they feed from you. Their thumb finds your clit, and you stutter momentarily at the pleasure that suddenly fills you at their calculated circle. The pleasure kicks, like flickering flames too eager to spread and ignite.

It happens so naturally as their words—"let go"—whisper in your ear, yet creates such an explosion of ecstasy that you almost can't breathe. Their name leaves you in a moan as you grind your hips in an indulgent swivel. Your walls flutter around them, clenching as the waves of euphoria intoxicate you and you pull away from their throat.

You shudder as you cum, your body trembling with a lust still not quite satiated as you slowly, slowly come down. Desire continues to rock your hips slowly back and forth, hooded eyes watching you readjust while the wounds your fangs left behind heal.

You look into their eyes of golden magma, warmed by the passion in them as they regard you dearly. Licking lips still tainted with blood. "More," you sigh. "I want more."

They hold you closer, eager for your lips as they capture them again, shifting forward and forward still until you lay on your back and they hover over you. "Then more, you shall get."

Thrusting into you again, the sensitive aftershocks of your prior orgasm still sparked inside of you as you relished in the drag. The slow pace that had been set didn't last long as you muttered "more, more, more" under your breath. What had been measured thrusts became an impassioned fucking that had you moaning loudly with each snap of their hips.

They watch as the lust and pleasure flit across your face, guiding hair from your forehead and gliding knuckles over your jaw. "Look at you," they purr, staring at your face as they hold your leg over their waist. It's the fourth time those words have come from their mouth, each time holding more and more tenderness than the last. "My sweet girl, my lonely girl." A rough thrust has them groaning, breaking from their praise to take a hitching breath. "My beautiful girl."

"Desire," you sigh. "You're amazing."

Like the praise delights you, Desire lets out a longing sigh, nearly folding at the sound of it. They moan your name, cradling your neck in one hand and holding you close by your hips with the other as they spear you on their cock, eager to get another release out of you and coax themself toward their own. Desire watches a stray tear that had built in your eye slowly slip down your pretty cheek.

"Such a pretty girl," they purr as they stroke your cheek, careful not to wipe away the tear yet as they watch it slip down, down, down. "Look at you, crying for me like the good girl you are. Loving how I fuck you, loving how I make you feel."

They bend down, their tongue darting out to taste the tear. A tiny breath deepens within their chest as they grin. "Mmm," they sigh. "All the loss and the love and the lust. My poor, lonely, pretty girl."

"Pl-please," you stutter, legs shaking around their waist. "Needa cum so bad."

They hum, "Of course you do, my sweet."

You huff, "Please, my Desire."

They love how you speak to them, how you have such power still even as you whimper and whine beneath them. They love your praise and they love your body and they love your cute little face twisted in pleasure like no other that only they could provide you. They love how they can feel your pleasure, feel how much you crave them, feel how much you crave to please them and be pleased by them.

They can't help whispering "such a perfect girl" as they shake their head in disbelief. You moan when their thumb presses once again to your aching clit, quickly turning up the ecstasy again as you grind against their thrusts.

"Fuck," you sigh. "Yes, yes, Desire."

They keep working at your clit, expert fingers gliding over it as they watch you with a wicked grin. Their hips keep pumping as they speak, "Cum for me, baby. Cum, let it go, let it all go for me. Just for me, my precious."

Your heart swells with too much fondness for their words, translating into the physical and emotional pleasure they fuck into your body. You take in a breath too deep when you finally reach the peak of your ecstasy a third time, cumming harder than before as Desire fucks you through it. Rambles fall from your lips, each word less coherent than the last as the euphoria hunts every nerve in your body until each and every one is prey to lust. You watch through dizzy eyes and listen through fuzzy ears as Desire succumbs to the same pleasure.

A deep moan full of hunger is rough at their throat and it roars. Your name taunts their lips when they press themself inside of you, as deep as they'll go as they spill within your clenching cunt, painting your walls white and filling you with warmth and affection. This pulls a second wave out of you toward the end of your orgasm, not as powerful as the last but just as satiating as they gripped your hip and neck to steady themself.

You watch Desire as they cum inside of you, as fascinated as your hazy mind can be as you look over them. They cum like it's the first time, an all-consuming experience they gain from feeding off of your own release. They're loud, nearly shouting to announce their release and sounding almost as needy as you. They calm just enough to allow their body to relax, almost dropping their weight on top of you as your arms wrap around them.

You hadn't realized until now that you were mumbling their name, a repeated prayer on your lips as your body buzzed with the leftover shocks. As they simmer in the tips of your fingers and toes, you lay there under Desire, still wrapped up in them as you take a moment to take them in. You inhale their intoxicating scent—what was a natural perfume meant to attract and allure others with the smell of sex was now a thousand times stronger, mixing in with something that was uniquely them. You bring your arms around them down to make them lay on you, dropping the rest of their weight and sighing under it like a weighted blanket. They give in, accepting the new position for what it is as they slowly come to.

They take your chin between their fingers and smile. "You are amazing," they mutter with too much emotion. Then they kiss you, a light kiss nothing like the ones before that. You relish in it, in its sweetness, in its strange cruelty.

You let them pamper you, slowly pulling out—much to your dismay as you whine at the cold, empty feeling. Their fingers graze your skin and you sigh and lay there and breathe. They call you sweet names and you enjoy the aftercare as they give it with a warm cloth and kisses alike.

As they're finishing, you raise a hand to their cheek, cupping it and easing them back in bed with you, over you. You smooth your thumb over their cheek, biting your bottom lip as you stare. You stare at their golden eyes full of a million desires. You stare at their red lips, still painted like blood and not even a tad smeared as they should be. You stare at their white hair, messy and all the more beautiful along their head and face.

Your thumb strokes their cheek. Lost in your own thoughts, in your own mind, you begin to smile as your heart swells with that same amount of excessive fondness as before. You swallow the lump in your throat and blink away the tears you refuse to acknowledge.

"Desire," you whisper. Too soft.

They hum tentatively, fingers moving so their knuckles graze over your collarbone. You sigh gently, shaking your head even gentler.

"You're beautiful."

They want to say something funny, something quick-witted. But the words freeze on their tongue as they gaze into you and your tear-glazed eyes. They swallow thickly, unsure of why staring so long was beginning to turn fire to an ember in their blood, their tongue mush in their mouth.

"Thank you, lovely."

You both lay there, your bodies slotted together as you enjoy the other's body pressing against your own. Breaking the silence, you murmur, "Did you know it would be you?"

A pause. A slow, silent sigh. A nod. "Yes," they say just as quietly.

You consider that a moment, never tearing your eyes from their face. "Why?"

They take a moment, face as soft as a feather. They lean forward, lips lingering near yours as you stay barely an inch from the other. The tip of their nose brushes yours and your eyes flutter.

They lean a little closer still, turning their head just slightly as your foreheads press together, your eyes closing and your shallow breaths teasing sensitive skin. Their voice washes over you with a type of grief you know all too well.

"We are endless, my dear…but everyone ends."

You sigh, opening your eyes and slowly moving to sit up. Desire pulls you back into their lap in a straddle, holding you there by your backside as you wrap your legs around them. You slot your arms over their shoulders, gazing for another long, quiet moment, and leaning forward for another kiss. Too tender.

Lips brush and press and reciprocate the newfound peace and care that has grown between you in a matter of hours, ignited by a spell made of love. Your fingers gently card through their hair, fiddling with a lock of snow white, even as you pull away and look at them again.

You smile, licking your bottom lip between your teeth and sighing. "Thank you," you murmur, almost as though you were promising the world.

They smile back at you, not as scandalous as they had been before. "Thank you."

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 @thegen3sisark

#desire of the endless #desire of the endless smut #desire of the endless x reader #desire of the endless fanfiction #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

annaizscribbling · 9 months

Text

Frosted Windows

In which Janus has a question to ask.

Wordcount: 2093

Janus tapped his fingers on the wooden end table pressed up against the plush black armchair he was seated in. His mismatched eyes were thoughtful, not kind, but thoughtful. He often looked like he was actively coming up with a challenge. A test. A trick.

The room was lavish. Dark stained oak made up the floors and furniture. A Persian rug covered the floor. High ornate ceilings above. Strange oil paintings adorned the walls, all normal at a first glance yet stranger when examined.

He kept drumming his fingers. The gloves made the sound silent. Still, the movement was captivating. It wasn’t rapid but measured. All five fingers tap in quick succession before a half moment break. Then again. Again. Again.

The ticking of an unseen grandfather clock rocked a rhythm into the room. His legs were crossed. At the ends of his dress pants, black socks peeked through before being hidden below leather dress shoes. It was 9:00AM. He always looked this formal. He smelt like pine.

‘Do you think, in your opinion, that you’re a good person?’ Janus asked coolly, eyes only half open, like the question was so dull he barely had to be awake to ask it.

‘Odd question to ask me of all people.’ I say, because it is. I am the last person worth asking this.

Janus raises his eyebrows in a mocking replica of surprise. Like my assumption is unexpected, or even bold. It isn’t. ‘I never said you were the only person I’ve ever asked,’ Janus said.

I don’t bother challenging that, though I’m positive he hadn’t been rounding us up one by one to ask. ‘Even still. It’s an odd thing to ask me.’

‘I don’t hear an answer,’ Janus says, fingers drumming again. His gaze is drifting away from me. I’m being boring to him. Or maybe he’s pretending to be bored by me. He wouldn’t be the first to do either.

‘I think good and bad are subjective,’ I tell him, nearly clinically.

Janus smiles. His smiles are sharp and pointy like the edge of a blade. ‘You think that answer impresses me,’ he says like it is fact.

‘I don’t care enough to impress you’ I say.

‘You are refusing to entertain the question. Simply by asking specifically for your opinion, I am acknowledging that the question and answer are both subjective. I know that you cannot objectively answer.’ Janus looks back at me. I don’t like his gaze trained so closely on my face.

‘Then what is the point?’ I say, slightly colder now.

‘Come now,’ Janus chuckles. The sound is like a deep rumble from an old actor with a transatlantic accent. ‘Even you aren’t completely practical. Don’t you enjoy a little bit of stimulating company? Indulge me. It’s one question.’

‘There is no simple answer to your singular question,’ I tell him.

‘Then we can start at a simpler point,’ Janus says like I am a child struggling to understand a basic concept. ‘How about this? Is humanity good?’

‘I don’t believe you are as funny as you think you are.’

‘Come on, I’ve been dying to pick your mind,’ Janus says without convincing me of his words. ‘Just answer the question. Is Humanity good in your opinion?’

‘Again, there is no objective answer to that question,’ I sigh curtly, ‘and what’s the point in an answer that subjective? It’s pointless here. I don’t bother with pointless what ifs.’

‘Mmmmm. Not a philosopher Too practical?’ Janus says, smiling at the window. The glass is frosted, so what lies beyond it is too blurry to make out. It’s hard to decide if Janus would be the type of dream up an unused front lawn just to be blurred by a windowpane. There are certainly some of us who would, but would Janus?

‘No. I am not a philosopher. I leave that to you, Janus,’ I tell him tautly.

‘It’s true, I do love hypotheticals,’ Janus preens, running his fingertips along the brim of his hat, ‘but I like them because they so easily apply to reality. I don’t exclusively spend my hours scheming up pointless questions. I think that I’m clever enough to avoid pointless questions. I ask about what I see.’

‘And what do you see, exactly?’

‘More questions,’ Janus shrugs with his usual poised nonchalance. ‘Just like the ones I’m asking you. Is humanity good in your subjective opinion?’

‘Humans are not good or bad,’ I say, knowing I will not sway him.

‘Right, right, but that’s a cop out, my friend. By saying that, what do we imply?’ Janus asked, spreading his arms.

‘I imagine you will tell me.’

‘Saying there is no good or bad implies that humans are animals. There is no good or bad in a deer or a dog. Are we the same? Or do we simply delude ourselves into it? Our higher intelligence only hinders our personal aspirations then. Morality furthers the wellbeing of our species as a whole while shackling the individual. We need not morals or empathy then. Doing ‘bad’ things aren’t actually bad things at all. Only things.’

‘…Sure,’ I say after a pause, if only to appease him. My hesitation makes it sound like I don’t understand. I do. I just don’t like where he might be steering me. I don’t like being steered at all. This is the most basic train of thought; I don’t understand why he’s wasting his time on it.

Janus looks slightly annoyed at my lack of engagement. ‘So what? You agree?’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Humans are animals controlled by invented feelings of guilt and moral superiority to our unrestrained mammals we share the world with,’ he says.

‘I suppose.’

‘So if I hurt you, it means nothing. I can do what I’d like, and you may acknowledge it as harmful to you, either emotionally or physically, but it is not a ‘bad’ thing to do.’

‘Janus,’ I say wearily, ‘this is neither inventive nor stimulating. I was there when Thomas went to high school. I thought you had better material than this.’

‘Come now,’ Janus clicks his tongue, fingers drumming again. ‘I know you know this. I want your opinion on it.’

‘I think you have a guess as to my opinion, and want your guess to be proven correct,’ I say, feeling impatient. I stuff the feeling down. I don’t have anything pressing to do. Feeling impatient otherwise is a childish emotion. I don’t have time to entertain it.

‘Fine,’ Janus sighs, ‘you really know how to suck the fun out of this you know.’

My hands have been folded in my lap until this point. I feel my arms and spine stiffen.

Janus catches the adjustment in my posture. A self-satisfied smirk tugs at his lips.

‘Is that all then?’ I ask.

‘Not yet, no,’ Janus says, recrossing his legs so that the right one is on top. ‘You’re right. I do have a guess, but that’s the fun of it. Haven’t you ever had a hypothesis you’re itching to test?’

‘I have. Though mine don’t usually involve leading my subject in circles until I’m proven correct.’

Janus pretends to be offended, opening his mouth as his eyebrows draw together in a mimicry of hurt. ‘I would never.’

‘Yes, you would, actually.’

‘Okay fine, I totally enjoy doing that,’ Janus immediately concedes with a smug smile, ‘but that’s to prove a point. This is to test a theory of mine. Completely different. I’m honestly shocked you can’t tell the difference.’

'Care to share your theory, then?’ I ask.

‘Fine,’ Janus sighs dramatically, ‘though it’s less fun that way.’ His fingers begin to drum again, aligning with the beat of the clock ticking from somewhere I cannot quite place.

A few seconds pass. Then longer. A minute and a half go by. Janus is thinking, I can see it in the way his lips twitch every so often. I imagine he’s wording and rewording his pitch behind his closed mouth.

‘Well?’

‘I think that deep down, you believe humans are good,’ Janus says all at once. There’s an anticipation behind his eyes but I can’t see through him well enough to understand why.

I feel my face fall flat. I raise an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

'Is this a roundabout way of insulting my intelligence?’ I ask without much amusement. I feel like the trap he’s setting is closing in on me. He is going to prod and poke until he gets to laugh at me for something. I can feel it. I want to leave, but I’m not so weak to give in just yet.

‘Why would it be?’ Janus asks without answering, head tilting in intrigue.

I pause to think of a good way to support my claim. I level him with a sharper stare. ‘Do you believe humans are good?’

Janus barks out a laugh, looking excited. ‘Turning it on me now? How coy, but this was about you. Unlike many things which are and should be focused on me, I want this to be about you, untainted by my little old opinion. But let’s pretend I did answer, what would that prove?’

'I think you don’t believe humans are good, if I had to make an instinctive guess,’ I say before faltering.

‘And?’

'And by implying that I believe the opposite of you …’ I trail off to my own frustration. It’s hard to get out the words. I feel like I’m being led across a tight rope with a blindfold on. Each step is a gamble.

Janus smirks, leaning back in his seat. ‘You believe that I might believe humanity is bad, and if like I stated previously, you think humanity is good, I think you are wrong. And we just can’t have that, can we?’

I grit my teeth. ‘…yes.’

'Cute. So this whole little game is just a dig at you. A joke. A fun little riddle where the answer is that you are secretly an idiot. Irrational. Biased. Blinded. Wrong,’ Janus says, counting on his fingers as he comes up with different words to describe me as a fool.

'Your track record does you no favors,’ I say lowly.

‘I suppose not,’ Janus shrugs, ‘but no. You’re harder to lead that way compared to the others. I have a different point to make today. Can you guess my next step, darling?’

I glare at him, but I do understand where he’s going with this. ‘Your first question.’

Janus smirks, fingers drumming once more. ‘If I had a cookie, I’d give it to you.’

'Save it.’

‘Do you remember the question in question,’ Janus asks, his finger drumming picking up the pace, losing some of its rhythm in is excitement.

'You asked if I thought I was a good person,’ I say, refusing to look at him. My heart rate quickens. I don’t let my agitation show. Janus is clever, but he’s no mind reader. He’s no god.

‘If you think humans in general are good—’

'Which we have not established—’

'Then do you think you’re a good human?’ Janus finished; eyes fixed on my every move.

‘I’m not even human.’ I say.

‘Don’t bullshit me, darling,’ Janus says, his smug smile boring into my chest.

‘Then I don’t know. It doesn’t matter enough for me to have decided. I am not human, and even if I considered myself one, it doesn’t matter. It’s subjective. It’s pointless. Am I good or bad? I don’t have an answer. I’m afraid you’ll have to manage without one.’

‘I think,’ Janus began slowly, ‘that you refuse to answer. Even in your innermost thoughts. Because if you do decide, you’ll have to face something much larger than something as simple as good or bad.’

‘And what would that be?’ I demand.

‘If you were a good person, why would you be treated the way you are? And if you’re a bad person, then you deserve what you’re becoming despite what he says—'

My vision goes black as soon as I register what Janus is talking about.

‘You don’t deserve it. You deserve better. You deserve to fight it. Good people aren’t bad for defending themselves. Let me handle it.’

Stop. Stop. Shut up. I’m not doing this. Stay back.

‘Please.’

Shut up.

‘I think you’re good.’

It doesn’t matter.

‘Good people deserve better.’

Good people aren’t real.

‘Let me out.’

You’re just my own thoughts. There is nothing to release.

‘Please, Logan?’

‘This is pointless,’ I say to Janus, standing and sinking out of the room before he could object.

#logan sanders #sander sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #Anais writes #ts janus #ts Logan #fanfic

43 notes · View notes