#y'all know my brain been rotting of this man !

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.” 

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space. 

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp. 

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.” 

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. 

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment. 

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!” 

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture. 

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again. 

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle. 

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip. 

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.” 

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…” 

“Osita…���   

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.” 

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed. 

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened. 

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi. 

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker. 

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

 As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner. 

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see. 

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways. 

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front. 

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them. 

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box. 

And holy fuck did he look hot. 

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground. 

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen. 

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it. 

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box. 

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view. 

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up. 

“Hermosa, are you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind. 

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade. 

“What’s going on, baby?” 

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you. 

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.” 

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you. 

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-” 

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.” 

Oh, fuck me. 

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?” 

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it. 

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body. 

“Like, right now?” 

“Like, right now.” 

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest. 

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.” 

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat. 

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room. 

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal. 

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming. 

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…” 

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function. 

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further. 

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”  

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.  

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?” 

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth. 

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers. 

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal. 

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic. 

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin. 

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came. 

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly. 

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor. 

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace. 

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible. 

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-”  You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him. 

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure. 

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.” 

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear. 

“You still okay, Osita?” 

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again. 

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response. 

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again. 

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt. 

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser. 

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.” 

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core. 

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him. 

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came. 

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high. 

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath. 

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point. 

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.” 

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.” 

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-” 

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.” 

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics. 

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.” 

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” 

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.” 

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

[bbyquokka]

You love me though ˗ˋ꒰♡꒱ˊ˗

➥ pairing: Lee Minho x F!Reader

➥ genre: fluff, smut. MDNI

➥ synopsis: Minho helps you cook for you and your date, despite feeling jealous. However, when your date stood you up, Minho comforts you, making you realise your true feelings.

➥ warnings: smut, protected sex, fingering, clit play, blowjob, nipple play, blood [mentioned, not described], violence [mentioned, not described], cheating, unrequited love, explicate language, dirty thoughts [m], alcohol consumption, pet names [babe, kitten], jealousy – if i missed any, lmk!

➥ words: 7.5k

➥ a/n: i know, i know. another minho fic but this has been unfinished in my drafts for a while plus i have minho brain rot rn i blame taste soooo. i also got this idea from rewatching minhos vlogs and skz code ep 10-12, where he would cook for the boys. i hope y'all enjoy!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

➥ m.list

Flicking through various cookbooks, you groan, slowly feeling yourself becoming frustrated. You discarded the current book you were flicking through beside you.

You run your hand through your hair, looking at the piles of discarded books and printed recipes. You grab your phone, looking for something online but to no avail.

"What am I going to do? All these recipes are too difficult for me." You mumble to yourself. You put your head in your hands, feeling frustrated tears pooling in your eyes.

You sniffle, blinking back the tears as you thought of what to do. You have a date tomorrow night and – for some reason – you agreed to make them dinner at your place.

You have been talking to your date for 1 month before deciding it was time to take it a little further. Unbeknownst to him, you cannot cook a single thing, no matter how hard you try.

"Wait.. I know someone who can help me!" You grab your phone, pulling up the contacts. You press the call button, putting your phone to your ear as it rings. After two rings, you got an answer.

"What do you want?" You scoff.

"Well, nice to hear from you too, Minho."

"I'm busy, (Y/N)" Minho exclaims. You hear the sounds of something rustling, Minho making cooing sounds. You raise a brow.

"And by busy, you mean, 'I'm actually spending time with my three fur children so could you please leave me alone?'" you mock, doing your best Minho impression. Minho sighs. You can practically see his eyes rolling at you.

"Exactly. You know this so why are you bothering me?"

"Minho?" You question. You receive a small "Mhm" from him, indicating that he is half listening and half occupied.

"How long have we been best friends?"

"Since we were children, why?" Minho sighs again, realising where this is going. You giggle. "Okay, spill it out (Y/N) what do you want from me?"

"I need help, like desperately!"

"Okay, with what exactly?"

"Uh, well, you know how I've been talking to someone," Minho hums. "Well, they're coming over to my place."

"Look, if you've called me just to ask me for love advice, I'm not interested." Minho removes his phone from his ear, about to hang up on you.

"Nonono, waittt." Your desperate voice echoes through Minho's apartment. He rolls his eyes, placing his phone back on his ear.

"I'm cooking.." You mumble.

Silence. You blink, looking at your phone screen thinking Minho disconnected, but he was still on the phone with you.

"H-Hello? Minho?" A fit of laughter suddenly erupts in your ear. You can practically see his eyes scrunching up at the corners, his teeth on display as he clutches his stomach.

"Y-You?! Cooking?!" Minho splutters between his fits of giggles. "No way!"

"Minho! stoppp!" You whine as you pout, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"How did you manage that?" Minho's laughter dies down, a finger coming to the corner of his eye to wipe away a tear.

"Man! I don't know, okay! I guess I just want to impress them, so I said I would cook. I've looked at so many recipes, but they're so complicated, Minho." you grumble.

"Okay, first of all (Y/N) recipes are not complicated, they're designed to be fool proof. You just, really suck at cooking." You roll your eyes, moving you mouth in time with Minho's words, mocking him.

"Second of all, just order and pass it off as your own, I'm sure they wouldn't see a difference."

"I can't do that! That's just – morally wrong, Min!" You gasp.

"Then if you don't want to do that, why phone me?" Minho says, petting Dori who took vacancy on Minho's lap.

"Well, I was thinking–"

"Yeah, no wonder it smells like burning. Don't think too hard, you'll fry your brain." Minho laughs, interrupting you mid sentence.

"You're so meann!" You whine.

"You love me though, Kitten." You blush softly, going shy at his words. You can feel his smugness radiating through the phone.

"Fuck you, Min." You softly speak, playing with the ends of your hair like a shy school girl who has a crush.

"You wish."

"Min, stoppp. let me speak!" Minho chuckles.

"Okay okay, I'm sorry. You were saying?" You clear your throat, gaining back your composure.

"Anyways – I was thinking, seeing as you're so good at cooking – you could help me!"

"Uh, no."

"Huh? Why?" You whine

"Because, you got yourself in this mess, you can get yourself out of it."

"But Min! I'm your bestest ever friend in the whole wide world! You love me!"

"Yes and–" Minho cut himself off, clearing his throat as he runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm not helping you, Kitten."

"But, what if I start cooking and I suddenly burn my apartment down?!" You gasp, getting an idea "Then I can come and live with you Min! Wouldn't that be so much fun!!"

"Absolutely not! I have all the fun I need in the form of my beloved 3 cats."

"Plus me. It'll happen Minho. If I cook and I burn my apartment down, I'm going to live with you! It'll be so much fun! Just think of all the pampering sessions we would have."

You smirk, hearing Minho groan. You have him right where you want him – you won.

"Ugh! fine, you win. I'll help you out!" You grin, cheering victoriously

"Thank you Min! I love youuu." You coo

"Yeah yeah. Just get your ass down to the supermarket. I'll meet you there." Minho hangs up. You punch the air excitedly, basking in your glory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Standing at the supermarket waiting for Minho, you shiver as the crisp autumn air runs shivers down your spine. You nuzzle into your scarf, hands in your coat pocket.

You look around at the various people walking past you and inside the supermarket. You look at your digital clock on your phone, your wallpaper background being of you and Minho, taking a cute selfie together.

You look up, seeing Minho walking towards you. You beam, waving your arms in the air before running to him.

"Minho!!" You shout, giggling as you run to him. Minho looks up, rolling his eyes at you before laughing softly. He stops in his tracks, opening his arms wide. You run into his arms, Minho grunting at the sudden impact.

You nuzzle into Minho's chest, taking in his scent as you hum. Minho looks down at you, smiling softly as he wraps his arms around your figure.

"I've missed you, Minho!" Your words muffled against his chest. Minho laughs softly, ruffling your hair. You whine, pushing his hands away.

"We spoke literally 10 minutes ago!" You pull away from Minho, fixing your hair as you pout at him.

"You know what I mean. You spend more time with your cats than you do with me." You whine.

"Because my cats are adorable and oh-so sweet."

"And I'm not?" You raise a brow playfully. Minho takes a few seconds to think, humming in the process. You scoff, playfully hitting his chest. He grunts and laughs.

"You know I've always found you adorable, kitten." Minho smirks, winking. You blush, burying your face into your scarf.

"Fuck you and your charms." You mumble. Minho hums, loving how you always act shy around him. It makes his heart swell up with more love for you.

Minho has loved you for as long as he can remember. He believes that you two are soulmates. He didn't realise he had feelings for you until you got your first serious partner.

Minho hated it. He hated it so much. How he couldn't have you to himself – it made him green with envy. Your partner wasn't exactly nice to you during the relationship. They had a history of cheating in the past but, for some reason, you thought you'd be different.

However, 2 months in and they had already fucked someone else. You stupidly forgave them after they spewed lies about how they would 'change' and 'it meant nothing, just a one off'. The cheating carried on for months as well as the constant disrespect

Your ex partner hated Minho because Minho wasn't blind. Your ex had you wrapped around their little finger so they knew they could get away with anything, however, Minho's different.

He saw past the bullshit and that scared your ex. They knew you went crying to Minho, they also knew that Minho 100% tried to convince you to leave them.

To add fuel to the fire, Minho and your ex got into a fight. Minho was around yours and your ex hated that, accused you of doing sexual things with him. You were dumbfounded, your blood boiling with rage as your ex screamed accusations after accusations.

Seeing you in so much pain and distress caused Minho to stand up for you, joining in calling him a bastard and that they don't deserve you. Due to rage, Minho said some things that should not be repeated. Your ex hated that, felt threatened so, in their usual cowardly ways, they swung so Minho swung back.

You broke up the fight, your ex calling you both bitches. You were in floods of tears. A busted lip and a black eye along with some blood were the only injuries Minho sustained. You helped clean him up and once done, Minho had a serious talk with you.

Minho is direct, he doesn't sprinkle sugar onto shit because at the end of the day, it's still shit. The words Minho spoke hurt but it had to hurt in order for you to open your eyes – which you finally did, after 9 months.

Since then, you have been healing with the help of Minho. He was so good to you, making sure you were eating and staying hydrated. Occasionally, he would storm into your apartment, swing you over his shoulder and force you to get dressed by throwing random items of clothing at you.

He loves you and as much as he wants to tell you his feelings, he's scared. He doesn't want to lose you and if that means being friend zoned until the day you both grow old and live with 10 cats, then so be it.

You take Minho's hand into yours. Minho made a mental note of how soft your hands feel against his skin. His heart rate speeding up a little as you drag him inside the store.

You grab a shopping cart, pushing it into the store whilst Minho walks beside you.

"So, what do I need?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After half an hour of shopping for ingredients, amongst other things, you paid for it all, walking out the store with multiple bags in hand. You and Minho walk to your apartment. You somehow convinced him to help you cook and by that you meant – 'You cook, I watch'

But how could Minho say no to you when you give him your best puppy eyes, ones that make him melt.

Once home, you got to work unpacking. Minho rolls up his sleeves, washing his hands as you did the same. The ingredients for the meal you plan on cooking spread out across the counters.

"Okay. First things first, we need to cut the meat." Minho instructs. You nod, grabbing a knife. Minho keeps an eye on you, ready to come to your aid in case you hurt yourself. You place the meat on a chopping board, cringing at the texture.

"Ew! it's so slimy!" You whine. Minho shakes his head, laughing softly.

"Slimy? It's raw pork belly (Y/N) How can it be slimy?" Minho chuckles, grabbing a knife also and the veg.

"It just is okay. Don't question my intelligence." You state playfully. Minho looks at you as he washes the veg, eyebrow raised.

"Intelligence? What intelligence?" You pout, glaring at him as he dried the veg, smirking at you.

"You're so mean, Minho!"

"Yet you love me, kitten." Your face flushes red, heart rate slowly speeding up, like it always does when he is his usual charming self.

"Yes, I do." You admit, slicing up the pork. Minho swallows, pressing his lips together. He knew you meant it in the friend way however, he couldn't stop his heart from racing, pounding against his chest.

"Ah, this sucks." He whispers to himself, voicing out his thoughts as he peels and chop the veg.

"Minho!!" You whine, placing the knife down. His head spins to the side, eyes widening as he notices blood from your finger.

"Shit. Are you okay?!" He rushes to your side, looking at your cut finger.

"It hurts, Minho." You sniff.

"I know kitten. Go run it under the water. I'll get first aid." You nod, placing your finger under the cold water. You wince at the sting as Minho comes back with the first aid kit.

"Can I?" He holds his hand out to you. You nod, placing your hand on his. He brings your hand close to his face, looking at your wound.

"Oh kitten. What are you like." He chuckles softly. You pout, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Lucky, it's only a small cut so, you'll be okay. I'll clean it and put a plaster on for you, okay?"

You nod, your bottom lip still sticking out. Minho cleans your wound and puts a pink plaster around your finger. He kisses it softly, making you go shy at the sweet gesture.

"Now, no more accidents. Okay?"

"Yes Sir!" You salute, giggling softly as Minho rolles his eyes and ruffles your hair.

"Let's get back to work kitten."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It took you and Minho exactly 4 hours to prepare and cook the meal for your date. You're currently getting ready whilst Minho sits on the sofa, sipping some cold water and browsing on his phone.

You instructed him to stay. You insisted you needed help in what to wear for your date and knew Minho would give his honest opinion. As much as Minho didn't want to, he did. It was bad enough he had to help you cook a meal for someone that wasn't him, but hey, if you're happy so is he.

You walk out your bedroom dressed in a sexy yet elegant dress. Your hair styled and face decorated with minimal make-up. You press your lips together, smoothing down your dress as you clear your throat.

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes widening at the sight of you. His body feels warm suddenly, blood rushing south as he looks at you up and down. His mind went blank

"So..?" You nervously ask after seconds of silence "How do I look?"

Minho's brain short circuits. He's speechless. To him, you're the most beautiful women on the planet and even though he is use to seeing you in casual clothing, seeing you in a elegant dress, was breath-taking to him

"Beautiful. You look absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). You're so breath-taking." You look at your feet shyly, playing with your fingers as you smiled softly

"R-Really?"

"Absolutely." Minho stands, walking towards you. He cups your face in his hands, making you look at him "You're the most beautiful woman on this planet."

Your face flushes red. The rosy red blush you used to decorate your cheeks, merging together with the colour of your flush.

"Y-You don't mean that Min." You whisper, hands coming up and placing them on top of his.

"I mean it kitten. With all my heart, I mean it. I've never seen a more beautiful, yet elegant woman in my life. You make me speechless."

He wants to kiss you. He saw your eyes flickering to his lips and back up again. He wants to convince you to not have this date. Every fibre in his body is screaming at him to just kiss your soft lips, even if it means you hating him for eternity.

He just wants a feel, a taste. To feel your soft skin against his fingertips. To hear your sweet, delicate moans. He's always wondered what you would sound like whilst his cock strokes the deepest parts of your body.

Are you loud or are you quiet? Do you whimper and beg or do you demand? So many questions he's asked himself. So many sinful thoughts he's masturbated to. So many times he's wished he could do sinful things to you

Now is his chance. Should he grab it with greedy hands or should he leave, allow you to have your date even if it means he has to watch from afar, yet again.

He wants it

He wants you. It's so close, he can taste it. That forbidden fruit coating his taste buds, making him addicted to you. His mind fuzzy as your perfume hits his nostrils. It's the same perfume you always use and has no effect on him, however this time, it's different. He feels dizzy. Greedy. Needy. He wants you so bad.

You clear your throat, removing your hands from his. Minho clears his own, blinking a few times as he comes back down to reality

"My date will be here soon."

"A-Ah. Yes, of course. I'll uhm, I'll get going." Minho rushes to the hallway, putting on his coat and shoes. "Have fun kitten. I hope it goes well for you!"

That's a lie.

He doesn't want it to go well. He wants it to end terribly. He wants you to phone him up, sobbing as you decide to tell him how much of an asshole your date is. He wants to be the one to hold you, kiss your forehead and tell you it's all okay. To soothe you of your pain, in more ways than one.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours pass by. Minho keeps checking his phone in case he misses you phoning or texting him, but nothing. Knowing that it was probably going well for you, he sighes, his heart heavy with despair and jealousy. Picking up Doongie from his lap, he rise up from the sofa, deciding to call it a night.

Taking off his clothing so he was just in his boxer shorts, he gets into bed. As he's about to shut off his lamp, his phone rings. Looking at his screen, a burst of excitement and hopefulness runs through his body as your contact pops up

There's only one reason why you would phone him so late – your date went terrible

"What do you want?" Minho gives his usual greeting. Silence. He blinks, looking at his screen thinking you disconnected before placing his phone back on his ear

"Kitten? Hello? Are you there?" That's when he hears it. Your heartbroken sobs. Minho shoots up out of bed, redressing himself.

"M-Minho." You sob.

"Hold on kitten, I'll be there."

He drives to your apartment, breaking every law possible but he didn't care. He hates seeing and hearing you cry however, when it comes to your heartbroken sobs, it hits Minho differently. It breaks his own heart.

He knocks on the door before using the spare key you gave him years ago. He lets himself in, looking around your place. He notices the food and table you set has been untouched. The bottle of wine plus one glass was missing from the table

"Kitten?" He softly calls out.

"Living area." Minho rushes to where you were, his legs carrying him as fast as they could. The living area is dimly lit with a lamp that was suppose to set a romantic atmosphere but now held a much sadder atmosphere

His eyes fell on to you, his gaze softening as he sees you sipping the wine on the sofa. He walks over to you, sitting beside you as he cups your cheeks softly.

"Oh kitten. What happened?" Tears prick your lower lash line, spilling over and replacing your dried mascara stains with new ones. Minho's heart break.

"T-They never came! I waited Min. I waited and waited and nothing." You speak through broken sobs, your breath hiccupping in your throat. Minho frowns, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Not even a call or text?" You shake your head.

"Nothing! Nothing at all. They just stood me up Min! It'd hurt less if they gave me a shit excuse but no."

Minho pulls you into his chest, rocking you back and forth slowly as he wrapped his arms around you gently. He strokes your arm soothingly. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

His musk cinnamon scent hit your nostrils and before you know it, you broke down. Your sobs shake your body, breathing becoming erratic. Minho hushes you softly, stroking your hair to calm you down.

He thought he would be ecstatic to hear about your failed date. That way, he could selfishly have you all to himself. However, seeing and hearing you in so much pain, broke his heart and he no longer felt ecstatic, but sad and stupid.

"There, there kitten. It'll all be okay in the end." His soothing words calm your cries. You pull away from Minho's chest, your breath hiccupping at the back of your throat and chest.

Minho wipes away your tears gently. Your eyes swollen and puffy as they look glossy from the tears. Your cheeks flush red as your skin feels warm from your outburst.

"M-Minho." You hiccup, struggling to catch your breath.

"Before you even think about doing or saying anything, you need to calm down kitten. C'mon, take deep breaths with me." You copy Minho in taking deep breaths, slowly calming down and feeling your heart rate resume its natural pace.

"Good girl." Minho praises, kissing your forehead gently.

"Am I cursed, Min?" You mumble. Minho looks at you confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Every relationship I have fails. Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe I'm destined to be forever alone with 10 cats." Minho chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"You're not cursed kitten. You just haven't found the one yet."

"Have you found 'the one'?" You looked up. Minho was taken aback by your sudden question.

"Why'd you ask?"

"Well, I know you've had relationships in the past but when was your last one? 1, 2–"

"4 years kitten. It's been 4 years since my last relationship."

"Why so long Minho? You're a handsome man, you could have anyone you want."

"But I don't want just anyone, I want you" – is what he wanted to say. He ruffles your hair softly, making you pout.

"Thanks kitten. I'm flattered." Minho winks. "Now, go get changed into something comfortable." You pout, nodding slowly before standing and walking to your bedroom.

You return bare faced, hair down and wearing shorts and an old oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Minho. He smiles, his heart warming up as he sees the t-shirt.

"You still have that old thing?"

"Of course! It's special." You speak, sitting down next to Minho and grabbing your wine glass. He hums softly in acknowledgement. He spent some time with you, helping you clean up the forgotten food. Once he was convinced you were going to be okay, he decided it was time for him to head home.

"Well, I'm going to leave now kitten. Now that I know you'll be okay, I'll be on my way." Minho turns his back to you as he was about to walk to the hallway.

Your hand fly's out instinctively, grabbing Minho's wrist. He looks back at you over his shoulder, slowly turning to putty as you look at him with doll eyes

"Don't go." You whisper. Minho swallows. He's spent the night with you numerous times, however, tonight feels different. He nods slowly, agreeing to stay with you.

"Okay, I'll stay kitten."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2am rolls over. You and Minho are sitting on the sofa, laughing and gossiping. You both have had a drink so you were feeling a little bit tipsy.

"Don't you miss it, Min?" You ask before bringing your wine glass to your lips. You sip the red liquid, licking your top lip to rid of any residue.

"Miss what?" Minho's eyes dart to your tongue, watching it lick your top lip before disappearing back into your mouth.

"Sex." Normally, Minho would have rolled his eyes, scold you about how nonchalant and straight forward you can be when it comes to sex. However, with the alcohol running through his bloodstream, he didn't mind.

"Yeah. I do."

"What do you miss about it?"

"Everything. The touch, the taste, the sounds. I miss all of it kitten. I am a man after all and just like you, I have needs." Minho winks, sipping his alcoholic beverage. You stick your tongue out at him playfully "Do you miss it?"

You think for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah. I miss having a connection with someone though."

"What do you mean?" Minho looks at you, his hand placed on your thigh gently as he strokes your soft skin with his thumb.

"Well, I don't mind one night stands but I miss sex with a meaning. I want to feel connected, feel what my partner is feeling. I want to share it and enjoy it." You let out a deep sigh before speaking "I thought I did, but turns out they're just like the rest of them." You mumble bitterly.

"Don't worry kitten. You will find the one eventually. You're gorgeous, smart and adorable" You roll your eyes at Minho.

"Ahuh and pigs can fly."

"Don't be like that, kitten. I mean it. To me, you're perfect."

"I am?" You ask, looking at him with those eyes that makes him melt. He swallows his saliva. Now is his chance. It's now or never, even if it means sacrificing the friendship.

"Yes, you are. To me, you're the most perfect and beautiful woman to have walked the planet (Y/N)" You blush a deep shade of red. Your heartbeat speeding up and thumping loudly against your chest.

Your skin on your thigh feels hot where Minho is stroking and truth be told, you've forever felt like this around Minho. You've always thought it was because he's a charming man but maybe that's not the case.

Is this – love? Has 'the one' been right under your nose this whole time?

"Remember when you asked me if I've found the one?" You nod "The answer to that is yes, I have."

"Who??" Minho closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for impact. He opens them again, leaning in close to you. You swallow, frozen in place as his face gets dangerously close to yours.

"You." He whispers against your lips. Whether it was the events that happened or the alcohol in his system, he feels a surge of confidence run though him.

He leans in, connecting his lips to your own. Your eyes widen in shock. Minho's lips stay still as you struggle to understand what was happening. Minho's heart beating against his chest so hard, he thought it was going to rip out from his ribcage

Seconds went by painfully for him and when he thought all hope was lost, that he lost you for good, you close your eyes and move your lips against his, encouraging him to move in sync with yours.

A burst of giddiness and disbelief washes over him. You, the person he has loved since forever, was kissing him. It feels like his birthday had come so soon.

You don't hate it, in fact, you love it. Minho's lips are soft and plump. They mould together with your own, like you're made for one another. It's blissful to you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers interlocking behind his neck to keep him close to you. Minho squeezes your thighs gently. You deepen the kiss, lust and want slowly washing over you and consuming your mind

Minho nibbles and licked your bottom lip, silently asking for permission which you granted. Your lips part for his tongue to dive inside. He tastes the inside of your mouth, wine coating his taste buds.

He hum in the kiss as you whimper. Your tongues meeting together. The wet muscles colliding and fighting for dominance – a fight that was guaranteed for you to lose. Saliva pools at the corners of your mouth, your fingers buried in Minho's hair as your skin feels hot to the touch.

Your mouth feels good. Minho's skilful tongue tasting and battling against your own. Lust pools at your core, breathing becoming irregular. Minho parts from your lips, panting softly as the oxygen resumed back into his lungs.

Your lips swollen, cheeks flush as you look at him and whimper.

"Minho. More."

Minho snaps. The rationality that told him no. That told him to hold on, snapped. He stands up, before picking you up by your ass. He cups under it as you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

You mewl, feeling his erection against your clothed pussy. As Minho walks to your bedroom, you lick a long, wet strip up his neck, stopping at his ear. You nibble the lobe, causing Minho to shiver and grunt before kissing his neck softly.

Once in your room, Minho places you on the bed gently. Your back landing against your soft mattress. Ethereal. You look so ethereal to him. He wants to caress you, take his time with you. He wants to drive out each and every sweet moan from your lips.

He's wanted this – wanted you – for so long, that every fibre in his body is screaming at him to just pounce on you. Take you roughly, corrupt your mind. He wants to piledrive into you, make you so sore that you'd have no choice but to depend on him for help.

He's a rational man, but when it comes to you, the beast comes out from hiding.

"Minho." You mewl. "C'mere." You extend your arms out, doing grabby hands at him. Minho laughs as he kneels between your legs. The mattress dipping at his weight as he leans over you, hands planting firmly on the mattress against your head.

Leaning in, his lips attached themselves to the skin of your neck. Sucking and nibbling, you moan softly, hands tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt.

He pulls away for a second, taking his t-shirt off. You hum at the sight of his toned body. You place your hand on his chest, feeling how sturdy it is against your fingertips

"You've been working out?"

"From time to time." Minho states with a shrug. He takes your hand from his chest, kissing the palm of your hand gently as he looks in your eyes. You melt as you see nothing but love coating his honey eyes.

"Beautiful. You're so beautiful (Y/N)." you whine softly, turning your head to the side to avoid his gaze. Minho leans over you, tilting your head back to face him with his fingers against your jaw.

You whimper again, closing your eyes as your lips connect again. This time, the kiss is filled with passion, want and love. It's slow and seductive. It allows you both to bask in the feeling of each other. You feel Minho's love radiating from him and you hoped he felt yours.

He's always been the one. You've just been too blind and stupid to realise it – until tonight.

Minho slips your shorts off, throwing them on the floor. You shiver as his fingertips stroke the inside of your thighs, getting dangerously close. You pull away from his lips, lifting the t-shirt up and over your head.

You blush a deep shade of red, feeling exposed in just your baby pink cotton panties. Minho's eyes scan up and down your body, taking in every detail and curve you have to offer.

"M-Minho. Stop staring." You whimper, head turned to the side. You put your arms over your breasts, covering them. Minho clears his throat as he grabs your wrists gently, removing your arms.

"Don't hide. You're extremely gorgeous." His words coated with love as he speaks softly. He looks at your breasts, licking his lips before looking at you "Can I?"

"Of course." You nod. His head dips low. He plants soft kisses down your neck and between your breasts. He cups your left breast in his hand gently, squeezing the soft flesh as his lips kiss your right.

You hum softly. The tip of his tongue circled around your areola as his fingers gently stroke over your hardened nipple. He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and pointer finger.

You hum at the sensation, the tip of his tongue flicking across your nipple before he sucks and gently nibbles it. You groan softly, feeling his lips attach to your skin. He kisses and sucks the skin of your breast, leaving marks behind.

He pulls away from your breasts, his cheeks flush. He looks down at you, biting his bottom lip softly.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy." He whispers before kissing your lips again. His hand travels down your stomach to your inner thighs, stroking them slowly.

He gently parts your legs before moving to cup your clothed pussy. You groan in the kiss, his fingers rubbing up and down your slit, feeling a wet patch from your slick slowly forming on your panties.

He gently starts to rub your clit over your panties. Minho swallows each one of your sweet whimpers. Your fingertips lightly travelling down his back, goose bumps rising on his soft skin.

You tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting off. Pulling away from your lips, he takes his sweatpants off, throwing them beside your t-shirt before sitting on the bed, back against the headboard.

You swallow, eyes darting to his crotch. An obvious tent had formed in his black boxer shorts, a wet patch slowly forming from his pre-cum. This time, it was Minho's turn to feel shy

"Stop staring kitten." Minho blushes, clasping his hands together in front of his erection. You sit up, crawling between his legs as you remove his hands slowly

"Don't hide, baby. Show me." You mewl. Minho groans softly, feeling your fingertips dance along his shaft through the material.

"You feel so – girthy. I wonder how you're going to fit inside me." You mewl, locking eyes onto him. He presses his lips together in a thin line, shivering at your words.

"I'll take care of you kitten, don't worry."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that Min." You kiss his shaft gently through the material of his boxer shorts as you hook your fingers under his waistband. You look at him with questioning eyes, to which Minho nods, granting you permission.

You pull down his boxer shorts, discarding them on the ground. His cock springs free from its restraints as a sigh of relief leaves Minho's lips. You swallow, eyes widening.

His cock a little over average in length however, he's girthy. Tip red and coated in a thin layer of pre-cum. His veins protruding along the side, fading at the tip.

"Kitten seriously. Stop staring at me. You're making me shy."

"You're so adorable Minho." You coo. You wrap your hand around the base of his penis, his skin hot against the palm of your hand. You hum softly, slowly stroking him as you lowered your head. The tip of your tongue connected with his tip.

You give small kitten licks, humming as the salty flavour of pre-cum coating your taste buds. You alternate between stroking him and massaging his balls causing Minho to groan softly.

You look up at him through your lashes, your core clenching at the sight of him. Rosy cheeks, glossy eyes and lips parted – he looks so dreamy. You close your eyes, wrapping your lips around his tip. You slowly lower your head, your warm and wet mouth trapping Minho's length. You take half of his length in your mouth.

You bob your head up and down slowly, wasting no time. Your tongue swirling along his length, saliva accumulation in your mouth threatening to spill from the corners. You stroke what you couldn't reach, wrist rotating.

Minho grips the bed sheets, sweet moans leaving his lips. He cannot believe his eyes. He's dreamt of this for so long, that seeing you give him a blowjob feels like another dream.

Your lips around his shaft, the feel of his cock stroking the insides of your mouth as your tongue swirls along his length feels so heavenly to him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hum, the vibrations hitting his cock sending shivers down his spine.

You pull away from him, hand still stroking his cock. Your lips plump and eyes glossy with lust.

"Fuck, I can't." Minho grabs your shoulders gently, pushing you down so your back is against the soft mattress. You squeal, laughing softly.

Minho pulls down your panties, his mouth salivating at the sight of your cunt. Your slick coats your folds making it shine in the dim light. Using two fingers, he parts your folds before stroking up and down your slit getting his fingers coated with your juices.

You hum softly at the feeling, biting your lip as you anticipate his next move. He press his finger against your sensitive clit, rubbing it slowly as he uses your slick as lubricant. Your hips buck at the sensation, Minho chuckling softly.

"Everything okay kitten?"

"M-Mhm. everything is fine just, I haven't been touched like this for a while."

"Do you feel good?"

"I feel amazing, Minho." You look in his eyes and smile softly. Minho's heart leaping out of his chest. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much you mean to him. He's going to handle you with care, like you're the finest pottery on the planet.

"Gosh, you're so beautiful (Y/N)" He whispers, his eyes scanning your body. You were about to protest his statement until you feel a finger slowly insert inside your entrance. He stops at the first knuckle, slowly moving it. He can feel how tight you are. Your cunt clenching around his finger.

"Kitten, relax." He softly speaks, leaning down to kiss your lips again. You hum, allowing yourself to relax which allows Minho to pump his finger inside you. He can feel you loosening around his finger, more of your slick coating him.

He wants to add a second. He wants to penetrate you with his thick cock, but he vowed to himself that he would treasure you. Make it just as pleasurable for you as it is for him

You may have been friends since childhood. You may know each others habits, however, when it comes to sex, you both clearly have some exploring to do. It's all about the chemistry, the connection. It has to feel good for you as it is for him and vice versa.

Only when you moaned out a breathy "more" did he insert a second finger, slowly. You groan, feeling his fingers scissor and stretch you out. He curls his fingers against your walls, his fingertips brushing against you. You wither, soft moans leaving your lips as you grip onto Minho's bicep. His muscles visible tensing as he thrusts his fingers inside you, veins slowly protruding alongside his arm.

Minho takes this time to admire your body. The way your stomach tenses and chest rises rapidly from your laboured breathing. How you would struggle to hold onto something because you feel too good. Your hair fanned out on the sheets, a thin layer of sweat slowly forming on your body.

This image of you will forever be engraved in his mind.

"M-Minho. I need more, I need so much more." Minho swallows, slowing down his thrusts. His cock twitching at the implication.

"A-Are you sure, kitten?" You nod your head fast, looking at him with doll eyes, begging him to penetrate you. "Okay, only if you're sure."

"A hundred percent Minho. Please, I need you so badly." You whimper as Minho pulls his fingers out off you slowly.

"Protection?" You point to your side draw. Minho raises a brow, opening the drawer to reveal a pack of condoms. He takes one before kneeling between your legs.

"You have a habit of keeping condoms in the side drawer or?" You playfully glare at him as he smirks.

"You can never be too sure, Minho! Its always best to keep protection close by."

"I guess." Minho shrugs as you raise a brow

"Don't you keep a pack close by? You know, just in case you bring home a one night stand?" You question.

"Nope." Minho opens the packet, taking the condom out.

"So you mean to tell me that you don't use them?" Minho shakes his head slowly as he smirks at you "Why."

Minho pumps himself a few times before rolling the condom on his length. "Because kitten, I prefer to go in raw."

You press your lips together, shivering at his words. "Maybe one day, you can fuck me raw."

"Don't tempt me kitten. It's bad enough that I'm battling between being rough and being gentle." You smirk, opening your legs wide. Grabbing the base of his cock, he guided his tip to your entrance.

"Ready Kitten?" Minho speaks softly.

"I'm ready." Minho pushes himself slowly inside you, taking extra care not to hurt you the best he could. You hiss, the burn radiating throughout your body from the stretch.

Minho pushes half his length inside you, pausing to allow you time to adjust. Your tight cunt clamping around his length, making it harder for him to cling onto the little bit of rationality he has left.

Minho interlocks his fingers with yours, stroking your hand softly with his thumb hoping to relieve you of your discomfort. You squeeze his hand gently.

"It's okay kitten. Take your time. Just let me know when you're ready." He speaks softly. You whimper, nodding. Minho patiently waits for you to adjust. Seconds later, you indicate that you are. Taking your waist in his hands, he slowly starts to thrust.

You groan at the feeling, the pain slowly turning into pleasure the more he thrusts. Your warmth encapsulated Minho's cock, making him shiver and slowly drown at the feeling

"Minho, faster, more!" You whisper. Minho grips your hips tightly, inserting the remaining of his length until he's bottomed out. You groan at the feeling of fullness, gripping the bed sheets in your hands. Minho's thrusts become powerful and fast. Skin slapping on skin, moans mixing and bouncing off the walls. You wither beneath him, unable to comprehend the amount of pleasure you're receiving.

Minho was also struggling to comprehend his own pleasure. Your warm, wet cunt feels so good around him. He feels like he's drowning. His head kicked back as soft groans left his lips. His body shining in the dim light due to it being coated in a thin layer of sweat. Beads of sweat run down his forehead and temples as his hair stocks to his skin.

"This is so much better than what I imagined." He groans between pants. You purposefully clench around his cock, making his moan.

"You feel good babe?" He nods fast, bottom lip captured between his bunny teeth. "Me too, It feels so good."

Minho's hips began to falter, his movements becoming sloppy. He squeezes your waist tightly, panting hard before the pad of his thumb comes into contact with your clit.

He rubs the sensitive bud as he thrusts into you. Your thighs shaking as your body jolts at the new sensation. You moan and whimper, the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening. Minho feels it from the way your cunt has a vice grip around his length, making it difficult for him to move.

"I think I'm going to cum." You struggle to say between your pants.

"Cum kitten. Cum around my cock." You squeeze your eyes shut, your orgasm washing over you in an instant. You cunt clenches and releases around Minho as your body shakes and empty moans leave your mouth. From how tight your cunt has a hold of him, Minho stops moving as he groans, emptying himself in the condom.

Minho continues to rub your clit, helping you rid out your high as he shallowly thrusts inside you to help rid out his own. Once calm, you push his hand away, claiming you're sensitive to the touch.

Minho chuckles, pulling you out of you and taking the condom off. He ties it before disposing of it in the trash. He lays next to you as your eyes slowly close.

Pulling your sweaty body against his own, you snuggle into him, enjoying the warmth and comfort he provides. You hum softly in contentment as you feel yourself relax – sleep slowly consuming your body

"Hey, no sleeping. We have to get cleaned up Kitten." Minho speaks softly

"What's there to clean? We used protection." You whisper.

"Well, you're probably sore and sweaty, so we have to help you get comfortable."

"I guess so, but I'm too tired, so carry me!"

"Absolutely not." You pout as you whine.

"You're so mean Minho!"

"But you love me."

You smiled softly at him. The typical banter between you both now having a new meaning.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

[neverchecking]

I have a brain rot for sage, hes challenging the chain for their time with player/reader, he basically wants all His/Her/Them's attention, of course none of the chain and sage are going to "play" fair their going to cheat no matter what. the only ones he might not win against is time, FD and maybe twilight. wind, four, Hyrule, and sky would do sad puppy eyes to get cuddle time, twilight and legend turn into their animal form to get pettings, sage and wild would cook food to get points for being delicious. (etc.etc.) just some yandere shenanigans for attention. the challenges he did were sword fighting, bow and arrow targeting, sparing, arm wrestling, and so forth.

-Eevee

Okay, last one for the night! I figured since this isn't really a request, I could spitball some more of my headcanons for our beloved Sage.

Jk it delted itself so I gave up and went to bed bc last time I tried to push through I wasn't happy with the end product, so sorry for the delay!

For those of you who don't know, Sage is another name for the Tears of the Kingdom Link--dubbed Hero of the Zonai-- should we decide he is not in fact Wild.

For the Wild and Facesitting request, it's in progress I promise! I try to go in order with my requests, but like I said, this is more headcanons versus a scenario. It should be out tomorrow later today so look out for that ;)

ANYWAY-

Y'all. The amount of Sage requests in my inbox right now? You guys are feral for this man and I love it. So I'm here to feed you guys.

TotK spoilers below!

・❥・Okay, so lemme start this off by saying. I have done you all wrong. And for that I apologize.

・❥・Because our wonderful @wayfayrr has opened my eyes to new possibilities that I would've never even thought of. So everyone say thank you rn >:(

・❥・So let's make some amendments!

・❥・First off, let's talk about nicknames. I love the idea that Reader, and only Reader, can call him anything other than Sage. And calling him other herb-related nicknames? Kills me. He is a flushing red mess the first time it happens. You had deemed him worthy of a nickname? You considered him person enough to have a moniker that wasn't also a title? If he was down bad before, it's so much worse now. Because you see him as a person. He's sure the others just see him as a means to the end. The second one of them, maybe save Wind, try it, he's shooting them daggers and snarling at them for even daring to try and impeach your privilege. (I also love the Calm, Wild and Feral thing, I thought that was so freaking clever.)

・❥・And you know how each of the hero's have their own 'sword' right? Well, what if Sage's was the Master Sword Remastered? Like Sky's (Like most of their Master Swords actually) but now it's been boosted by ten thousand years worth of direct light magic. (Does the Zonai time fall before Skyward Sword or after? I have no idea where they fall on the timeline tbh.). Just a thought. It could also be a gloom sword which probably wouldn't effect him as hard in other timelines because there's no demon king to power it, but it probably does hurt the others if they try to touch it.

・❥・Now, the juicy part. Let's retouch on Wild's and Sage's relationship. I originally said that Sage was okay with him? I lied. Wayfayrr has opened my eyes.

・❥・Sage probably can't fucking stand Wild. As they said, this is a version of him that didn't have this second adventure. Got to rest and distant himself from the Hero Title. And that just pisses him off. Why did he get the shittier hand? Why did he have to do it all over again? Why when this failure got to get off easy? Why couldn't he have the same grace, huh? What made them so different?

・❥・And if we're using the past oneshot (Here!) as they're 'canon' meeting, this filth let you get hurt. You were hurt before meeting him, which means that they can't be trusted with you. Especially Wild. So Sage cannot stand you being near Wild. At all. It eats at him and he doesn't last long before splitting the two of you up.

・❥・Calamity is even worse. There is probably an active hate towards Calamity (In this Yandere world, in a normal, not toxic world? They probably work out their differences a little better). This was a version of him who didn't even have to die to complete his quest. And this just shows that Fraud has favorites and it's not him.

・❥・You know who else he probably doesn't like? Twilight. Now, hear me out. This is purely me just spitting this out, but Sage has to be aware. He listens when they don't think he does, he's awake when they think he's not, he's watching when they don't even know he's there.

・❥・So he probably picks up on all of their little secrets. Meaning he knows Twilight is Wolfie. And (I think this is Canon is LU but I'm not sure) Wild had Wolfie as a guide. Which means Sage had Wolfie as a guide. The difference? When he needed him the second time, left stumbling around like a newborn fawn crawling out of the shrine all over again, he was left alone. He was fighting robots with a fucking Stick. He fused a mushroom to a shield just to buy himself more time. At one point, he was fusing a long stick to another long stick just to fight from a distance to save his battered body. Rauru did as much as he could, but there were some times he wished he was left for dead.

・❥・Not anymore as that means he would've never met you, but then? different story.

・❥・They also brought up that Sage probably doesn't stop at just cooking your food and I agree. When on the road, he for sure goes straight to the source. If he doesn't know exactly where it came from, it's not going anywhere near his Goddess. Nope. Not a chance in the gloomy depths from hell.

・❥・He's going to farmers themselves rather than merchants for produce, hunting any protein himself, climbing trees for eggs, he probably even makes his own butter. Now, because he's also cooking savy this for sure makes the rivalry between him and Wild widen. Wild is set in his cook for the chain, not you. Sage can't trust them to not hurt you again. Whose to say they don't over spice the food? Or undercook the fish? Or drop shells into the egg?

・❥・He can't trust them and may force you to pick one of the other. Depending on who you chose, he'll either hold his victory up high or work even harder to separate you from the chain. Can't you see, Reader? They aren't good for you.

・❥・When it comes to the Gloom, he for sure uses to his advantage. You know he's been infected, but you don't know how much light he's gathered to dispel it. At this point, he's probably gotten most, if not all of it, out, but you don't know that. And he preys on that fact.

・❥・Oh, the Traveler wants to down to the river with you? But, Reader, there's something rotten in his chest and he's stumbling against trees, exaggerating his steady steps just in case to really sell it. He needs you by his side, can't you see?

・❥・Oh, the captain is trying to get you to settle with him for the night? But, Reader, he's tossing and turning, feigning sleep and acting just enough to catch your attention. He's listening, ears pricked, just to hear you swiftly apologize before your gently hands are laying on his shoulders and he's won again.

・❥・And because his Hyrule is one of, if not the most dangerous Hyrules, he's given so much ammo to keep you tethered to him. You can't trust anyone, don't you know? The Yiga uptake has skyrocketed and they are everywhere, along with Ganon's new ability to make puppets? Can't you see how you can't trust any of them?

・❥・He even entertains you when you come up with the idea to have a secret saying between just the two of you as a fail safe. (It's probably something like 'Deforestation Enthusiast' because of how the two of you met.) Anything to have you pulling further away from the Chain and into his arms.

・❥・If it begins to take longer than expected, Sage is not above letting you wander just enough in his Hyrule. Maybe you set off a bit of Gloom hands (Or maybe he nudges them in your direction, hard to tell, really) and they go charging at you. The others don't know how to deal with them, but he does. He saves your life before the others even know what hit them. He's cooing into your ear, reassuring that where the others fail, he would never dream of it. He's whispering that he knows how scary the feeling of those hands are. He knows how freezing the feeling of sudden restriction, only accompanied by the burning sizzle of malice, is. He knows and he understands, but he's right here. He'd never let anything happen to you. Not like the other frauds.

・❥・Now, all that being said, Sage for sure does not play fair. Oh no. He does challenge them in his own ways, but does it in a way that can only reflect badly on them should they call him out on it.

・❥・He's fighting (Picking apart) with Wars and Calamity on their sparring routines, angling it in just a way that should they snap back he can turn on the innocent little look with a 'But I'm just trying to protect you. I don't know how any of you fight, I'm still learning.' Just in time for you to catch them barking at him to 'Learn faster' and it just falls perfectly into place.

・❥・He's calling out Twi and Four every time they try to wander off (Probably to bring out Wolfie or split to relieve a headache of sorts) because 'The woods are dangerous, what are they doing going off alone?' and now they can't leave because all eyes are on them and he's restricting their movement without even really trying. They wanna go foraging? But he and ...Wild were their best foragers and they were busy with dinner (That was something bitter to get out).

・❥・And wow, Time, Legend and Fierce have so many secrets, can you really trust them? Sage has laid down his entire adventure to you, and regardless if Reader is a LoZ player and knows of them regardless, Sage told you. Those two are trying to hide from you. He would never.

・❥・Wind, Hyrule and that filthy disgrace want to drag you along to go Shield surfing? Reader, do you know how dangerous that is? Especially with someone's track record. Here, you wanna go riding on this motorized wagon he just happens to have on hand? (Between the Zonite in his Purah pad, he can build any component necessary.)

・❥・Not even Sky and First are safe as he uses carefully laid words to sully their once golden image towards you. Afterall, they're so close to Hylia, whose to say they aren't behind all of this?

・❥・Now, you said that the only ones he may not win against are Time, Fierce and Twilight, but like I said, I can imagine him loathing Twilight, so instead, may I suggest First.

・❥・Time and Fierce are both pretty burly dudes that demand some semblance of respect and while Sage has muscles, he's not overly tall. So while he doesn't bow, he may just back off from their forefront for a while.

・❥・Now, First. He's probably the only one who can put Sage back in his place of the hierarchy. It's the first in the timeline, versus the last (As of right now). And it's not pretty. They probably go to blows a few times when you're out of ear shot.

・❥・The problem is that First can only push him back when you're out of ear shot and Sage makes it a point to keep you as close as humanly possible.

・❥・And while yes, some of them may use puppy eyes, Sage is not above using pity to get what he wants because he just hurts so badly don't you know?

・❥・He unfortunately can't do anything about wolves or rabbits. If they manage to disappear before he can call them out on it, he's left bitterly sulking as Wolfie laps at your cheeks or dumb rabbits nose at your hand. He may know who they are, but not even he's cruel enough to call them out (Yet) because that would just pit you against him. They weren't his secrets to tell, you would scold, and he just couldn't handle that possibility.

・❥・The biggest difference between Sage and Wild, one that the chain will fail to realize right away, is that Sage is much more experienced. He is on his second, THIRD if you count the pre-calamity, adventure. He knows everything Wild does, and more. Wild knows how to improvise and adapt, Sage can do it faster. Wild knows how to forage and concoct incredibly potent elixirs? Sage can do it tenfold with half the ingredients. He knows all the little tips and tricks and is not only backed up by the champion's gifts-- should they have remained-- but now he has the sages with him.

・❥・Like imagine their mid-battle, they had forced you away from Sage just to create some distance (At long last) and mans comes rolling in a giant fucking robot. He's using Sidon's sage to shield you over and over again and decimating a battle field using nothing but Riju and an arrow. Hell, the bigger enemies are struck down by Yunobo crashing into them. Sage alone is enough to cut the enemy hordes in half through recall and sending their own attacks back at them or fusing together weapons they wouldn't have ever dreamed of with new abilities. Even his outfits give him benefits far beyond anything they could think.

・❥・You saw him as someone more than just Link. He wasn't just the Swordsman to you when that was who he was to everyone else. You dubbed him something far beyond what a damned sword made him.

・❥・And he would have to be four days dead before letting you go.

・❥・And as he's proven before, Not even death could truly kill him.

I am so glad I waited bc I like this one so much more than the one that was deleted.

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - My love for the cowboy space dad, Sam Coe, has eclipsed to the point where I am now writing him fanfic...what a time to be alive, y'all. Anyway, enjoy the results of my brain rot, and let me know what you thought of it >.> More may be to come if he continues to plague my every waking thought

WARNINGS: Some angst on poor Cora's part, thanks to Lillian. Some Lillian bashing, thanks to reader. It's not specified if reader and Sam are fully together at this point in the story, but it's implied. Post 'Matters of the Hart' mission.

The bay of the Razorleaf slowly descended with a hydraulic hiss, finally clanking against the tarmac of a landing pad. From the bottom of the ramp, you watched as the dusty, endlessly sun-bleached landscape of Akira came into view. The first unfiltered breath of the atmosphere hit the back of your throat unpleasantly. How anyone tolerated such a low humidity every single day, you couldn’t guess. Akila was kind enough not to be a sweltering wasteland on top of it all, so…small victories there.

You’d not been much impressed with the sight of the planet the first time you’d landed on it, and it still gave no better impression now. Sand-swept walls and buildings rose from an equally monotone environment. It wasn’t hard to picture the planet might one day just swallow the city whole and leave nothing after to show there’d been civilization there. Perhaps through sheer stubbornness and pride, the Akila City citizens kept their place in the galaxy.

A long-suffering sigh and a set of muted footsteps approach from your right. Sam stops beside you and gazes across his home planet with equal apprehension. His arms cross and he levels his hometown’s ‘Welcome to Akila City’ archway a woeful stare.

“Never gets any easier…”

You’re not surprised by his reluctance to return home. A visit to Jacob Coe was never an occasion to celebrate, and this one would be particularly disappointing, given Sam would also be relinquishing his daughter to Lillian for that long-time-promised week vacation Cora mentioned every opportunity she could. You didn’t fault the almost-teen for being excited to see her mother, but it wasn’t hard to miss Sam’s lack of enthusiasm for the whole affair. He loved his daughter above anything else, and letting her go for such a length of time wouldn’t be easy.

This stop was a ‘two birds, one stone’ of all of Sam’s least favorite activities. His less-than-cheery mood was understandable, and you couldn’t help but share this feeling. After months of the inquisitive girl aboard your vessel, you’d gotten so used to the random questions and cringe-inducing jokes that the impending silence was admittedly quite daunting.

Akila just so happened to be the closest planet to where Lillian had finished up a month-long assignment. With the promise that she had time-off to spend, Sam had agreed to have the Ranger pick Cora up here, and it would ultimately be where you and Sam retrieved her after their time together. It ate the cowboy up inside, you could tell. But he kept quiet and put on a facade of support if only for Cora’s sake.

“I don’t see Lillian’s ship.” He added, sweeping his gaze past the entrance to the city and across to the other landing pads. Concern began to overtake the displeasure of being on Akila, and you could instantly follow where his internal thoughts were leading.

“We did get here earlier than planned.” You finally say, laying a calming hand on the man’s jacketed arm and earning his attention. It’s not like you were were defending the woman, but it was a little silly to assume anything when the Razorleaf had just touched down almost 2 hours before you’d agreed to rendezvous with the Ranger. You might dislike Lillian Hart, but you weren’t that petty. “Give it some time.”

“Yeah, yeah…you’re right.” After an affirming deep breath and a weary shake of his head, some of the tension in his shoulders eases. Some, but not all. “I’m just…not too optimistic about this.”

“I know.”

“She’s flaked before, and this one means a whole lot to Cora.” He went on, as if you weren’t already aware of the meaning behind it all. “I can’t help but worry she’s not gonna show.”

“We’ll handle that if it comes to it. For now, just take a breath.” You say, flashing him your best reassuring smile. Even he could tell it was a little forced, but he did return the gesture with a muted one of his own. At the very least, you made sure he didn’t have to face whatever might happen by himself.

Razorleaf’s airlock releases behind you, and Cora’s beaming smile leaves the ship before she does, her small suitcase of belongings in tow behind her. You’re willing to bet there are more books than there are clothes in there, but hey, you wouldn’t judge. She blunders down the ramp with an energy you’d never seen before, curls bouncing atop her head the whole way, finally coming to a breathless stop next to her father.

“Is she here yet?” She questions, eyes already darting around the spaceport before receiving an answer.

“Not just yet, string bean.” Sam gave her hair a good-natured rustle, smile regaining some of its warmth as he addressed his daughter. “I’ve got some business with your grandpa first, so we arrived a bit early. I’m sure she’ll be touching down soon enough.”

You don’t comment on the edge of uncertainty that accompanies that last part. And thankfully, Cora doesn’t ask to go with her father for a family visit. Sam always preferred her to be as far away from Jacob as possible. At some point, you assume Cora understood why, though she’d never directly voiced it.

Sam pats his daughter’s cheek affectionately. “I shouldn’t be too long. Y/N’s gonna keep you company until your mother gets here. Don’t you go anywhere until I get back to say goodbye, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Cora gives an exaggerated little roll of her eyes, but her smile is ever-present. “I promise, dad."

“That a’girl.” He says, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the top of her head. Then, his attention turns to you. “You two gonna be alright?”

“We’ll be just fine.” Is your reply, promising through unspoken word to keep Cora safe and sound while he was away. The reassurance is what he needed most, and you were more than happy to provide it. “We’ll make sure to have way more fun than you will.”

“Heh. Yeah, well…that won’t be too hard.” Sam’s head tilted a little, eyes squinting, already picturing the impending encounter with his own father. “I’ll comm you when I’m done.”

You wave your companion goodbye, watching him disappear past the protective walls of Akila City, then turn to the girl practically buzzing with excitement beside you. “We’ve got a bit of time to kill. So…where to first?”

This earns you an amused laugh, and the two of you begin walking towards the entrance of the city. “Do you even need to ask?”

“I figured today might be the day you just surprise me.”

You’re not sure how much time you spend standing around watching Cora browse the many books in Akila City’s—woefully small, in your opinion—selection. Seeing her over the moon at each new title, eyes scanning the summaries and even skimming the inner pages never got old. Her enthusiasm for the first new book she’d laid eyes on was just as exuberant as what was possibly the 18th book that afternoon.

The girl was a talker, chatting up the bookstore owners with the passion of a scholar. You could tell the women weren’t used to having someone so forthcoming with their love of literature in their store, but they quickly joined Cora’s wavelength and discussed their favorite volumes at length.

More than content to stand off to the side and let the girl have her fun, you interjected where appropriate, but for the most part just let the conversation go without you. Cora could talk for two people, anyway.

Eventually, even she had her fill of the bookstore, stomach grumbling with the need for food. You walked out of the store only a few hundred credits poorer—a miracle if there ever was one—and headed off to the chunks establishment just down the way. Akila was a maze at the best of times, but for once you managed to navigate the streets with little trouble.

You stood in line and debated with the young bibliophile what the best flavor of chunks was, but couldn’t come to an agreement. Your own favorite was completely out of stock when you managed to get help from the attendant, so you went with Cora’s favorite instead. 

With sated stomachs and a few new books for Cora in tow, you return to the spaceport to wait on the ship until either Sam or Lillian arrive. One glance around at the other landing pads confirms that Lillian’s ship had still not touched down. Sam still hadn’t comm’d you after an hour and a half, which meant his meeting with Jacob probably wasn’t going well. Regardless, you knew he’d make his way back to the Razorleaf in time to see his daughter off, even if it meant leaving business unfinished with his father.

You hid your worry behind a carefully neutral interest in whatever Cora had been talking about while you walked back to the Razorleaf, but that pit of dread began to dig its way into your stomach. Anger simmered right behind it. Cora didn’t seem to notice your rapidly worsening mood, which was all the better. If your fears turned out to be unwarranted, no need to rub it off on the girl.

When the ship’s communicator finally chimed with an incoming transmission, both yours and Cora’s heads jerked up. Being closer to the cockpit, you slid into the captain’s chair just as Cora ran by your side. Immediately, you knew it wasn’t Sam reaching out, and instead the woman you were meant to be meeting in…28 minutes. Cora’s face lit up with the prospect that it was her mother calling to tell them she was almost there.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be that optimistic.

One touch on your control panel accepted the transmission. Before you could even issue the standard greeting, Cora chimed in with a bubbly, “Hi, Mom!”

Hearing her daughter’s voice had caught the Ranger off guard. There was a pause before she responded. “Cora, angel…how are you?”

Her tone of voice made you stiffen in your seat, mouth pressing into a thin line, but Cora didn’t notice. She leaned forward against your chair’s armrest.

“I’m great! Are you almost here? I’ve got my bag all packed, so as soon as Dad comes back from Grandpa’s we can leave.”

“Ah, I was actually hoping to speak with your dad. Do you know how long he’ll be?” 

Figures she’d try to speak with Sam instead of breaking her daughter’s heart directly, you think bitterly. You wondered if she even realized how selfish it was to put the responsibility on her ex-husband to break this crushing news.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. And I found a few books we can read together while we travel to wherever we are going. I know you’ll like them.”

Your heart broke further with each new word the curly-haired pre-teen spoke, knowing what was about to happen. The taste of your chunks packet earlier was overshadowed by the bitterness of anger as it bubbled hotter under your skin.

“That’s great, sweetie, but…” Lillian’s voice trailed off, guilt or embarrassment or some equally fitting emotion coloring her tone. Perhaps she’d realized that there was no softening the blow she was about to deliver. “…listen. Something came up that I have to take care of. I’m so sorry, Cora. I’m not gonna be able to make it this time.”

A full second, maybe two, of silence passed, Cora processing what her mother had said. Seeing the girl’s face morph from elation at hearing her mother’s voice to something akin to confused betrayal tore at the deepest parts of your heart. If you could have saved her from this, you would have. But Cora being in the ship meant that she’d hear every word spoken no matter where in the craft she was.

“Oh.”

That one word, uttered with such devastating resignation. Cora straightened from leaning across your armrest and stood there with a carefully put together mask. You could see every crack and fracture in the young girl’s facade, but she put up a valiant effort to appear unaffected.

Lillian must have heard the same, and continued again before you could interject anything.

“I know how much you were looking forward to this, and trust me when I say I was too. I’d love nothing more than to take you away to a little paradise together and just spend the days hangin’ out without a care in the world.” Lillian’s attempts at smoothing over the hurt did nothing at all to fix anything about this. “I promise you, we’ll get together and have our week-long vacation, do or die, one of these days.”

Cora didn’t say anything. So unlike the chatty pre-teen. She looked down at her shoes, before quietly taking a hold of her suitcase you now realized she’d dragged with her in her rush to the cockpit.

“It’s alright, mom. We’ll figure it out someday.” Dear God, she barely sounded like Cora…all color was missing from her voice. So little life.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” And with that, she turned and padded her way back to the cot at the back of the ship. Perhaps she didn’t want you to witness her misery, because she went so far as to close the hatch to the cockpit, leaving you by yourself with Lillian still connected. Even with the hatch closed, Cora might still hear the conversation, but given everything that had happened, you no longer gave a damn.

“What is it this time, Lillian?” Your voice is full of barely restrained venom as you lean forward in your chair. You can’t see the woman through the audio transmission, but you were glaring anyway. “What’s so important that you couldn’t keep your promise to your daughter?”

The sweetness present when she’d spoken with Cora was absent, replaced by cold indifference when addressing you. The contrast was so stark, if you hadn’t already known her, you’d say they were two separate women. “You talk like this doesn’t hurt me just as much as it does Cora.”

“Because it doesn’t.” You say, reminding yourself to restrain the worst of your emotions. It wouldn’t do Cora any favors by cursing out her absentee mother from the other room. That wasn’t what the girl needed right now. Your head shakes with a rueful scoff. “If you could only see, Lilian…the way that girl’s face shattered. Then maybe you’d understand just how much more she’s hurting. But no, instead you do this over comms where you don’t have to look her in the eyes. Hell, you were going to put it on Sam to break the news, weren’t you?”

Lillian, perhaps smartly, doesn’t rise to that particular insinuation. “I do what I can, when I can to be there. It’s unfortunately a lot less than I’d like, but my duty is to protect the people of Freestar Space. I have obligations I can’t just ignore.”

“You seem to have forgotten your obligations as a mother in the process.”

“I’d give anything to be there with my little girl. Don’t ever imply I wouldn’t.”

“If that were the case, you’d have found someone else to handle whatever ‘came up.’ When it comes down to it, you don’t give anything, and you need to. Each missed visit convinces her that she’s another step further down on your list of priorities. What do you think happens when she believes she’s at the bottom?” You retort, already exhausted over this whole conversation.

“Cora knows how much she means to me, how important she is.” Funny, you think Lillian almost has herself convinced.

If it kept going at this rate, you were likely to start yelling, and that wouldn’t end well. Besides, Cora needed someone to be with her right now, so things needed to end quickly. 

You let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, voice growing much quieter as you reigned in your fury. “Look, Lillian…Sam already explained this to you. You can’t keep doing this. Cora can’t. She’s already 12. 13 in just a few months. Before you know it, she won’t be a child anymore. At this rate, there will come a point when she decides waiting for you to bother isn’t worth the heartache. There will come a day when you retire, when the need to fulfill a duty is over and done, and she will not be there. Because in the moments when it mattered—really mattered—you weren’t there for her. You realize that, right?”

You hear the woman sigh, and deep down, you know she hates that this conversation ever had to take place as much as you do. You know, really, that Lillian had good intentions with her promises. And that’s what made it all the more frustrating when she failed to deliver. She was well aware of how important this all was. Her damned chronic workaholic personality and inability to set aside the needs of the many just wouldn’t allow her to put anything else above it. Even at the cost of her daughter’s trust and happiness.

“You sound more like her mother than I do sometimes…” The Ranger admits tiredly. “I don’t know whether to be angry or grateful.”

“Honestly, I don’t care how you feel about it.” You say with a shrug. “She needs someone to be there for her. Sam is a wonderful father, and always there when it counts, but that girl needs a mother too. I know I’ll never replace you in her heart, it's not something I'm trying to do anyway. But I’ll fill whatever role she needs me to be, if it keeps her smiling.”

You hear a muffled beeping through the transmission, followed by Lillian’s muttered curse. “Damn it…looks like I’m about to have company.”

“Spacers?” You weren’t really concerned, or even cared, and asked only out of obligation.

“Crimson Fleet, I think.” There’s a pause, and you know that the conversation had come to an end. Nothing had resolved, but you knew Lillian wasn’t likely to change who she was after a short talk. “Listen, tell Cora I love her. I expect I’ll hear from Sam later on about this. He has every right to be angry. I am who I am, and that’s exactly the reason we never would have worked out in the end. I only regret Cora is suffering because of it. But for now, duty calls.”

Always duty with this woman. “Be safe, Lillian.” You bid, already reaching for the console button to end the transmission.

“You too.”

The audio cuts off abruptly, and you lean back in your chair with a slow inhale. Dragging your hands down your face, you release the last of your anger in a harsh exhale. Best to get rid of it now, so it wasn’t obvious when you went to see Cora. Not wasting anymore time, you stand from the chair and open the hatch.

You find Cora sat on your cot, a thousand-yard stare fixed at some point on the floor in front of her. Her smile was long gone, replaced instead by the remains of whatever facade she’d crafted to appear put together and ok. The little suitcase she’d packed with all her belongings sat a few feet away. It was zipped halfway open, as if she’d began to unpack, but then thought better of it.

A sad sigh leaves your lips. For a moment, you just watch her, calculating how best to approach this conversation. Sam was much better equipped to handle something like this, but you weren’t sure how much longer he’d be, and it pained you having to see her in such despair. You couldn’t just sit back and let her stew in whatever thoughts might be dragging her further down.

You slowly approach the still-silent Cora, electing to sit at her side just a few inches apart. Whether she wanted physical comfort, or just someone to be nearby, you weren’t sure. But you were close enough that, should she need you, she didn’t need to go far.

And for awhile, the two of you just…sit there. Words fail you, and try as hard as you might to find the right ones to say that might heal some of the hurt in Cora’s heart, nothing feels good enough. But eventually, you hear the girl sniffle. The first sign that her careful hold on her emotions was beginning to crack.

“Mom is a good Ranger. She’s out there saving lots of lives and making the galaxy less dangerous.” Cora’s wavering voice says, and you nearly want to cry yourself hearing just how hard it was for her not to shed those tears. Perhaps this was something she told herself each day as justification for her mother's constant absence. “I know she’ll make it up to me one day. She always does, eventually.”

You bite your lip. “Cora-“

“But…just once,” another sniffle breaks through, and then the first tear slides down her cheek, “I was hoping that…that it would all go right and we’d be a-able to see each other for a whole week. There’s s-so much I want to show her and talk to…to her about.”

More tears follow the first, and you lift your sleeve to wipe them from her face gently. But they keep coming, now that the floodgates had opened, and Cora openly wept as she sat beside you, her true feelings spilling over in bucketfuls. You did your best to keep up, but it only takes minutes for her to be shaking with the overwhelming sadness.

“I just want my mom…” She sobs, covering her eyes with her hands to try stopping the flow. “That’s all.”

A sharp cry has you reaching for her shoulders and pulling the girl in close, and your heart leaps when she forcefully wraps her arms around your middle and buries her tear-stained face in your shirt. What you wouldn’t give to drag Lillian here by the hair and force her to be here for her daughter…

With soothing ‘shushing’ noises, you gently rock her back and forth, one hand patting her back and the other holding her head close. You don’t know what to say to her, truly. Finding the words to tell Lillian how much you thought she failed her daughter constantly and consistently was easy. Finding the words to tell her child that she deserved so much more than what she was being given? That was much more difficult.

You sat there while Cora poured her heart out. Through the sobs, she mumbled muffled and incoherent sentences into your shirt. You’re not sure what half of them were, but if she just wanted to get it all out and vent, that was fine with you. Your shirt was damp with her tears, but that was alright too. Nothing would pull you away from offering whatever support you could while she worked her way through the many emotions.

Eventually, Cora’s sobbing began to ebb, the shaking becoming less pronounced. Her breathing evens to something less stuttered and shallow, and before too long you realize she’d managed to cry herself to sleep against your side. The poor thing…you continued the gentle rocking motion just in case, not wanting to wake her up.

A dull beeping noise caught your attention, and you look up towards the cockpit where it emanated from. Your communicator, you realized. That was probably Sam, wanting to let you know that he was done with whatever him and Jacob had needed to discuss. Part of you thinks to get up and answer, but the thought of jostling Cora awake was too much. You sat there, figuring that Sam would return to the ship to look for the two of you.

If you had to guess, it was about ten minutes before you heard the footsteps coming up the Razorleaf’s ramp. You didn’t move from your spot, listening as the airlock hissed open. Somehow, the noise didn’t wake the exhausted Cora, who barely moved from her place next to you.

Sam nearly walked past you sitting on the cot, but his peripheral vision caught your presence, and he stopped. He took in the sight of his daughter curled into your side, her posture clearly indicating that she’d been crying. You met his gaze with a stony, cold fury, one he understood wasn’t directed at him personally. That one, silent stare was all he needed to figure out what had occurred while he’d been away. 

The inquisitive expression he’d worn coming in vanished, jaw setting tightly. Clearly agitated, Sam stepped a few paces away, hand rubbing along his jaw in an effort to remain calm in the face of what Lillian had put his daughter through once again. He looked like he wanted to throw something. His breathing was more pronounced, though came through in slow, methodical inhale and exhales through his nose. Truthfully, you don’t think you’d ever seen Sam so angry.

In time, he finds himself again, stowing away the anger for the sake of his daughter. He could vent his feelings to Lillian later, when Cora wouldn’t hear it, but for now the important thing was making sure his daughter was alright. That was something you would never grow tired of seeing; Sam’s absolute dedication to his little girl, no matter what.

He moves to sit on her other side, and leans down to kiss the top of her head. It didn’t matter to him if she was still sleeping. You slowly move to shift Cora’s weight over to Sam, and somehow manage it without waking the sleeping pre-teen. She stirs, but her eyes never open.

Sam takes off his cowboy hat and sets it next to him, leaning back and holding Cora closer to him. He settles in to sit there for awhile, unsure how long she’ll be out for. Then, his eyes glance up to meet your own, holding them with a look so full of…something, that you can’t look away.

“Thank you. You were there for her when she needed it.” He says, his voice raspy and quiet so as not to wake Cora. And while you know he couldn’t have heard your conversation with Lillian before, it’s eerie how similar his words were. “I appreciate that beyond words.”

You give a little shrug, eyes drifting back down to the girl in his arms. “She needs her dad now.”

“And you, Y/N.” He says, drawing your attention back up to him. He offers the smallest of smiles. “She needs you too.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply sit back and make yourself comfortable, waiting for Cora to awaken. Your hand rubs along her back, hoping that the two of you would somehow be able to fix some of what Lillian had broken.

[moonlight-prose]

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw. 

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end. 

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Call of Duty brain rot has set in lolol I hope y'all enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Y/N was a simple woman, or so she liked to think. She went to work, back to her apartment, and sometimes she'd hit the gym. She was what most people would call bland, a wet blanket. Boring.

She was single, with no kids, and no man in her life - it was lonely sometimes, sure, but she liked it. It gave her time to focus on the thing that really meant something to her - her practice.

"Doctor Laswell, the next patient is ready for you," the nurse called into her office.

Y/N rose from her chair, glancing over the chart in her hand before she entered the room with a small smile. "Hello, how are you guys today?"

The young couple looked from the young puppy in the woman's lap and then back to the doctor. "We're doing okay, just here to get Bella's shots up to date."

Taking the squirmy little thing from her owner, Y/N cuddled it to her chest, chuckling when it gave her a few sloppy kisses on her cheek. "You're so sweet, aren't you, girl."

Y/N loved her job. She had always had a knack for taking care of animals - for the most part, all they wanted was a warm place to sleep, some good food, and love. They were simple, easy to read, and never meant you harm unless you gave them a reason - they were with you for life, unwavering and full of devotion.

Y/N quickly administered the medication to the puppy, rubbing the sore spot down with her gloved fingers gently. "You're so brave, Bella. Such a good girl," she cooed.

Giving the nurse the puppy's record to update, Y/N turned and handed the dog back to her owners. "Okay, you're good to go for now. Just stop by the ladies at reception to make sure you get the appointment set up for her final round of shots, okay?"

The rest of the day went by in a blur, animal after animal treated, and, as much as Y/N enjoyed her job, she was ready to get home to her warm bubble bath. She washed her hands and bid her staff goodbye as they filed out one by one until she was the only person left in the office. She turned the lights off, making sure everything was as it should be before she locked the door and walked to her car.

She unlocked her car before she got to it, ready to sit down and give her aching feet a rest. She reached out to open the door when she felt something hard hit her across the side of her head. She fell to her knees, her vision blurring as she crashed to the ground. Her palms and knees burned as the asphalt scraped away the skin. She blinked quickly, trying to clear her sight.

"Laswell?" The man asked from above her, his voice almost a growl. When she didn't answer he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her face to look at him. "Are you Y/N Laswell?"

Y/N gasped, pain shooting through her head. "Yes, yes, that's me."

Her sight finally cleared and she struggled to sit up, seeing two large men with masks covering their faces. One had a gun while the other continued to land hit after hit to her, her body, her face, anywhere he could. She was crying now, her arms covering her face as she tried to protect herself as best she could.

"Tell that bitch to make it right," the man sneered at her. "Or you're dead."

She was left in the parking lot by herself, blood coming from the cut on her head and her lip. She dug desperately in her purse, finding her phone and pulling it out with shaking hands. She was still crying, tears mixing with the blood that dripped onto her scrubs.

"Laswell," her aunt's voice came from the other end of the line. "Hello?"

Y/N sobbed into the receiver. "Aunt Kate?"

"What's wrong," Kate asked instantly, her voice tight. "Bunny?"

"There were these men," Y/N explained the situation as best she could through her panic. "Can you call an ambulance to the office? I don't think I can drive."

"They're on the way, Bunny, just stay where you are," Kate told her. "I'm on my way to you. I'll see you in a bit."

A few hours later, Y/N and Kate had finally been reunited in the emergency department of the hospital. Y/N was cleared to go home as soon as the bags of antibiotics and fluid were gone - just as a precaution, they told her. They had given her an injection for pain, but still, she found her head throbbing with every movement.

"Okay," Kate mumbled under her breath, pacing from one end of the room to the other. It seemed like time was in an endless loop - Kate would stop to ask questions, jot them down on a notepad, grumble to herself, and then go back to pacing. At times Y/N could've sworn she could see the older woman looking at her, her eyes filling with tears before she would excuse herself into another room.

Y/N frowned, watching Kate's back disappear into the tiny bathroom once again. She wanted to follow her, to check on her, but the pounding in her head kept her seated. Slowly, she brought the ice pack back up and pressed it against the offending pain, grimacing when the ice pack made contact with the bruise surrounding her eye. The television was on in the background, the volume whisper-low, but she paid it no attention.

It wasn't long before Kate came back out, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She gave her niece a small, tight-lipped smile. "Allergies."

"Aunt Kate, please you need to sit down and stop worrying. You're going to raise your blood pressure." Kate still paced the length of the room, just a little bit slower. Y/N tried to cut the tension with a joke, "Or walk a hole in the floor. They probably wouldn't appreciate that..."

Kate didn't fall for it and, instead, she came over and surveyed the damage to her niece's face with a grimace. Gently, she turned her face from one side to the other, her fingers grasping her chin. "Oh Bunny," she whispered.

"I'm okay," Y/N tried to soothe her. "Kate, I'm okay."

Kate almost glared at her, no true malice for her niece, purely frustration at the circumstance. "You're telling me that you're not in pain right now?"

"It'll heal," she said softly. "Come on, you've been waiting on me hand and foot since you got here. I haven't seen you in almost a year and I've missed you."

"Oh, Bunny, you know I've missed you too," Kate's eyes softened slightly and she nodded, sitting on the bed beside her. "Okay. Do you need anything?"

Y/N took her hand and simply held it - something she'd done as a child that still brought her a semblance of comfort. The older woman rubbed her hand softly, her eyes trained intently on her niece. "This is enough for now."

Kate nodded and sighed. "Okay, okay."

They sat there quietly for the first time since Kate had arrived. Y/N's mind was whirling with thoughts and memories. Most from the attack, but in between the awful there were also some from when she was a child - so she chose to focus on the good ones. She peeked around the icepack and asked, "Do you remember the first time you and Rachel took me ice skating?"

"Oh God. You were a wreck - you looked like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz when he first started walking." Kate laughed. The memory curled the corner of her lips - the younger woman's superpower if she had one - and she shook her head lightly. "You know, if it were up to Rachel she'd be here too - you are her favorite person."

Y/N gave her hand a small squeeze, taking her chance to change the subject. "How is Aunt Rach?"

"She's doing well," Kate admitted. "She's at an art show in New York right now."

Y/N had always been envious of her aunt's artistic ability. Sure, she could draw the basics, but Rachel's work was nothing short of beautiful. She wasn't even ten years old the first time she met Rachel. She was tall, thin, and willowy - she looked like something from another planet to Y/N. She was gorgeous. That day she took the time to show Y/N how to draw a rose - something the younger girl kept close to her heart for years to come.

"She's talented and she knows it," Y/N said fondly. "I miss her."

Kate agreed, a flash of pride in her eyes. "She would love for you to come stay with us - for as long as you'd want to. We both would."

"That's very kind," Y/N felt a surge of appreciation for her words but still disagreed. "But I'll be okay back at my apartment. Plus, I don't want to impose."

"Impose," Kate huffed with a roll of her eyes. "You live alone, you don't have any kind of protection. Your building's security is lacking. And plus, you're my favorite niece."

"I'm your only niece," Y/N sighed. She knew Kate was right, but she didn't want to place any more worry or guilt on her aunt's shoulders. She was still frightened, though. "How does Rachel stay safe while you're gone? Does she have a gun?"

Kate nodded seriously. "Yes, she does. She carries it in her purse, with a concealed carry permit, of course. I taught her how to shoot when we first started dating, just in case."

"Of course you did," Y/N smiled as best she could, wincing when her split lip seared with pain. "So do you think I should get one, too?"

Again, Kate nodded. "You know my stance on that. However..."

Y/N raised a brow. "What?"

"I think I may have a solution," Kate admitted. "You aren't going to like it, but remember, this would be temporary. Just until I know I have the people who did this to you."

Y/N was curious, sure, but she also knew she likely wasn't going to like what Kate had to offer. She waited, watching as the wheels in her aunt's brilliant mind spun, slowly clicking the puzzle pieces together. She pulled out her phone, tapped some buttons, and finally looked genuinely relieved since the first time she'd arrived. "It's damn near perfect."

"What are you thinking," Y/N questioned. "You look like you've solved world hunger."

"I have someone coming to keep a watch on you," Kate told her. "He'll be the one with the gun, so you don't have to worry about that. He'll stay with you until we get these bastards. Until you're safe."

"Are you talking about a bodyguard?" Y/N furrowed her brows. "Kate, c'mon. I don't think that's necessary-"

Kate cut her off. "I have just the person in mind. I've worked with him for a long time, completely trust him. He's top of the line, Bunny."

"Do I have a choice," Y/N asked softly, the answer already known.

Kate, again, gave her a small smile. "No."

That evening, after she was released from the hospital, Kate helped her back to her apartment. She was scuttling around from one window to another, checking the locks as Y/N was nestled in her chair, her body still aching. She had a tablet in her hands, reading over some of the charts of her patients. She couldn't be at work until she was fully cleared, but she still accepted the simpler cases so people wouldn't have to go to the next town over to keep their animals healthy.

"You should be resting," Kate chirped from the doorway of the kitchen. "But because I know you aren't going to listen I brought you a cup of coffee and a bagel."

Y/N gave her aunt a small smile and thanked her with a nod, taking the cup from her hands. Kate lay the plate with the bagel on the table beside her. "I wonder where I get that stubborn quality from?" Y/N joked.

"Watch yourself, smart-ass," Kate chuckled, shaking her head lightly. "But seriously, don't overdo it, kiddo. I know you want things to stay relatively normal, but you still need to take it easy, okay?"

The younger woman nodded. "I promise."

A knock at the door shattered the silence and Y/N gasped and looked to her aunt. Kate stood, her hand by her gun on her side, and walked toward the door. She glanced out of the peephole and lowered her shoulders, her hand moving from her gun to the doorknob. She opened the door and stepped outside, her voice met by another deeper one.

Y/N strained her ears to hear the conversation outside, but couldn't make out any distinct words. Kate's comfort with the person on the other side calmed her worry, so she sat back and took a bite of her bagel. When she heard two sets of footsteps enter her apartment she pretended like she didn't notice, too absorbed in her work, but in reality, she was hyper-aware of the large figure shadowing her aunt.

"Bunny," Kate's called, breaking the silence. "This is John, he's a friend of mine and a damn good soldier. He's going to be watching over you until we're sure that you're safe."

Y/N glanced up from her work at Kate before her eyes shifted over to the large man behind her. Y/N gave him a tight grin, rightfully nervous about having him in her home. He was a stranger, after all, even if Kate did vouch for him. And she knew Kate was only able to stay for a few more hours - with her important work and all.

John gave her a quick nod, his hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Thank you for your help, John," Y/N said quietly.

John gave her a wink and it was then she noticed how absolutely blue his eyes were. "Your aunt's told me a lot about you."

Y/N smiled at him. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but Kate keeps me in the dark about most things."

John chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"Anyway," Kate cut their conversation. "The arrangement is simple - John stays with you as much as possible. Of course, you're allowed your personal space, but he needs to be within arms reach of you if you're out. And always in the apartment with you."

Y/N opened her mouth as if to say something, but her aunt held up a finger, signaling that she wasn't finished speaking. "I've spoken to the landlord of your office, Bunny. As soon as you're cleared you can go back to work, but John will be there with you."

Y/N raised a brow. "Don't you think a random guy, no offense, John, just standing in the corner of my office is going to weird out some of my patients? Make them uncomfortable?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders and frowned. "I don't care about their feelings, Bunny. I care about you staying alive."

"It's my job, Aunt Kate," Y/N sighed.

Kate nodded, coming to sit on the arm of her chair. "I understand that, but your life is more important."

Y/N bit back a retort after seeing the look on her aunt's face - she'd seen that look plenty of times and she knew no one had ever won a battle against it. She sank back against the cushions of the chair, her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant child. "Fine."

Kate squared her shoulders, a grin curling her lips. "I'm glad to see you're taking this well."

"This is well?" John piped up quietly behind her.

Kate turned slightly. "This is her being easy. You've got your work cut out for you with this one, John."

John sighed. "I've taken down entire platoons of highly trained soldiers, Kate. I think I can handle a little woman."

Kate chuckled. "You've only just met Bunny. Don't underestimate her."

"Underestimate a Laswell," John murmured with a smirk. "Never."

[amuhav]

Hope y'all had a FANTASTIC Christmas 💖

and wishing you all a Happy New Year (+ personal update lol)

It may seem like something so small to get emotional over, but Christmas Eve, I burst into tears at having something ~resembling~ a living room for Christmas, AND seeing my desk space finally all set up and running. It has been a heck of a rough time these last 17 months since we moved into our new place, not to mention the 2 rough af years leading up to it. I included some images below from throughout for anyone curious (or just wants to see my cat in a t-shirt 😻), but big ol' venting rant under the read more, sorry if you open it but you've been warned LMAO.

We moved here in August 2022, and these pics really are only a small fraction of everything we've had to deal with. From plumbing leaks and years' worth of water damage, to mould-filled walls and a condemned boiler. TWO GAS LEAKS. One dangerously malfunctioning stove. The fear of potentially dry rot-infested joists. From ripping up and re-laying multiple floors (with more to still do...), to ripping out a fireplace and rebuilding entire walls. Having no bathroom to call our own and having to share my mother-in-law's tiny annexe en suite for 5 months. Having to ask permission to have a shower. Having no bedroom for 4 months and having to squish three of us into my daughter's room—the confinement of which stressed out my cat, Mina, so much that she overgroomed herself to baldness and required a shirt and then a babygro (even if she looked beautiful in them LMAO). THE FLEAS. My god the fucking fleas the previous owners left here.....

From a family of starlings deciding to nest in our eaves and wake us up ~every morning~ with the dawn chorus, to finding (no pics, I promise!) FIVE mummified rats in the attic and needing the whole thing ripped out, sterilised, re-insulated and re-boarded, two pigeon skeletons behind the fireplace (complete with a moth invasion that had been feasting on them 💀 nature, man... so fucky). Needing to get a whole-ass loft hatch installed in our bedroom ceiling because mice were getting in and we had no access to deal with them. R A T S. RATSSSSSSS. *shudder*

So many IKEA furniture building sessions lmao. 10 new doors installed throughout the entire house (with 2 more still to go). New boiler, new water tank, new radiators. New carpets fitted throughout upstairs. Every single room repainted. Cutting and fitting skirting boards and coving ourselves, the latter during a bad bout of medicine-induced low blood pressure, 0/10 do not recommend lest you want to almost pass out standing on a ladder over a flight of stairs... 💀 Honestly the number of things that could have literally killed me this year. Like the incorrectly wired socket that the live wire fell out a centimetre away from my finger........ EVERY SINGLE job we've done to fix or improve this place has been hindered and tainted by the incompetence and cost-and-corner-cutting of the previous owner, taking way longer and costing way more than it should, and/or literally endangering us all. Pretty much everything above was caused by them. Eg. The leak in the bathroom coming VISIBLY through the living room ceiling that they left unfixed for 4+ YEARS MINIMUM that they PROMISED us they'd fixed 🙃🙃🙃

And through this all, we've had no living room or really any downtime space, apart from my husband who has had his office. I've had to move my "desk" (an IKEA table that just about fit my PC+Monitor that bruised my knees to sit at) around like playing musical rooms, until our bedroom was ready, then me and my daughter "relaxed" in there for the last 9 months. The only TV we've had was "shared" with my mother-in-law in the kitchen (aka it's all hers lol).

A lot of this is complaining about first-world problems, I know, I know. We have a roof over our head and are surviving a cost of living crisis that is destroying the lives of many others. But tbh, the last 2+ years of my life have ~rewired my brain~ entirely because I have been in a permanent state of stress combined with an unrelenting limbo. Just... existing. Seeing the light at the end was impossible at times just from the sheer overwhelming amount needed to be done. We are still not finished. But having a living room, unfinished as it currently is, finally feels like that turning point. Having a SOFA HOLY SHIT. Having a space for me and my daughter and my cat to properly ~unwind~ each day. Just being able to have a Christmas tree and presents under it, even if it's not the full-size one we were meant to have, it's still not the tiny 2-foot one stuffed into the kitchen corner we had last year. Mina finally getting free roam of the place the last few days has lifted my soul so much, she's so happy just getting to sit with us and chill.

Bonus; in the new year, I'm finally getting my heart condition fixed permanently, AND then should be starting medication for ADHD.

So yeah. Here's to a turning point, a New Year's start that feels, for the first time in a long time, like a hopeful one. And I really, really hope that translates to more time here going forward, because what little I have been able to do has kept me sane. It'll likely still be spotty for a while, there's still so much to do, but I'm on track now lol.

Now, for anyone that got this far, a bonus happy kitty pic :3

[anonymousbardd]

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Chance

↳ Francis Mosses x FemReader

FLUFF(?): Idk I decided to make a milkman one-shot because I was getting a bit brain rot from making Lookism fanfics, this is just a small break from lookism lol.

Don't worry though, I'll be back to finishing fanfics after a bit, I've been focusing on work stuff a bit lately, hehe.

I have no idea how this happened... I was just minding my own business, doing my job. How the hell did I end up being pinned against the wall, being held against my will by a doppelganger?!

"Please let me go..." I mumbled, the doppleganger is Francis Mosses', his breath brushed against my skin, "What do you want from me...?" The skinny man tightened his grip on my wrists, I couldn't help but whimper from it.

"I'm starving..." He muttered, his nose was close to my neck, his voice sent me shivers, "I just want a taste."

"But why me...? I cried out, "I don't even taste good!" The tall man chuckled, his left hand travelled down my body and pulled me closer, "Oh honey, I wasn't talking about your flesh..."

My eyes widen in shock, what did he mean by that? His lips formed a smirked, "I've been watching you... Day by day, I'd watch you get ready before your shift starts..." He paused and scanned my body, "I can't help myself but admire you from afar." I shivered from his breath, he got closed to my face and smiled, "When I found out that you liked the milkman, well... You know what I had to do.*

I looked at him with horror, concern ran through my brain, "What did you do to Francis?" I asked, he hummed and leaned closed to my neck, "Don't worry... I didn't do anything to him," he said, even though the doppleganger in front of me is dangerous, it felt like he was telling the truth.

He then looked at me in the eyes with his grin, "Just give me a little taste and I'll leave you alone~..." He murmured, I closed my eyes and tried to squirm my way out, "Please... I don't want to... I'm a virgin..." I mumbles.

He looked at me in surprise and chuckled, "Seriously?" He asked, he slightly pulled away and held my chin, "How old are you? Aren't you like, 23?" He chucked, I huffed and pouted my lips, "Shut up! Don't laugh at me!" I shouted, is a doppelganger seriously making fun of me for being a virgin?

"I haven't found the right person yet..."

He smiled and leaned closer to my face, he kissed my lips and pulled away, "How about you give me a chance? I'll take good care of you."

A/n: Y'all, currently working on three requests, 2 Headcanons and 2 one-shots, all the lookism stories were kinda making me feel a bit tired so I decided to make a small one-shot today for a bit of a change hehe.

Dw, I'll be making more lookism stuff, I'm just focusing a bit on my personal needs :3

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[thepaintedlady00]

Is this what I should be writing? No. Is it what my brain has become obsessed with? Yes. 😅😂 SO, my friend and I have been playing Baldur's Gate 3 and last week she just sent me a piece of fanart for Enver Gortash and a The Dark Urge Tav. She wrote me an essay about how a story about these two and their tragic pasts and sexy chemistry and eventual love affair and angst was just so perfect and blah blah blah. No big deal, right? WRONG! WRONG! Because now it's stuck in my head and I've been writing long ass blurbs for a fic that I did not have planned whilst I'm supposed to be writing like 2 other things right now! 🤣 Well, anyway, here this is because *looks at script my friend wrote out for me* "I'm the boss (writer) and I can do (write) whatever I want" 🧍‍♀️. Let me know if y'all enjoy this because boy oh boy do I have more (it's literally turning into ANOTHER 20 plus chapter series). Thanks for the brain rot you bitch (said lovingly), I hope you enjoy the tiny peek into the fic you want so badly!

The glinting steel reflected the vision of pale skin - skin I wanted nothing more than to slice open. The man made a slight, quiet noise. It wasn’t one I usually heard when about to take a life. Everyone else was always babbling, clearly terrified to die, but he seemed to be bored… annoyed. I admired the way the chilled, freshly sharpened blade kissed his neck so nicely before his hands finally stopped their intricate movements, and he slowly settled back against his chair. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't slit your throat."

"It'd be such a waste of a pretty neck," he joked. I pulled the blade back more, nearly cutting the tender flesh he seemed so fond of. He made some noise of protest and quickly added, "As well as a waste of a powerful ally."

The laugh that bubbled out of my throat was unexpected. It'd been so long since I'd laughed. Surely he was joking. I kept the knife steady as I stepped out from behind the chair and truly examined him. He was fit enough, with strong arms and a well-toned physique with a power that surrounded him as well, but it was but a simmer... A meager fountain in some garden compared to the power I'd witnessed. He grinned beneath my gaze. "See something you like, assassin?"

"If you're so powerful, then why is it me that holds your life in my hands?" I asked, with an arched brow.

"It would be rude of me to interrupt. You are doing such a lovely job with all these vague threats."

"You'd risk your life on some self-imposed manners?"

He rolled his eyes. "You aren't going to kill me."

I grinned at his boldness. "No?" Pressing the dagger down I made sure to draw blood this time. The sight of it made my mouth go dry, anticipation humming through me. "You would make a pretty corpse."

"I've no doubts about that," he agreed with barely a flinch. "But, if you'd intended for me to die, I suspect I would have been dead weeks ago when you first paid me a visit."

His words - those cursed words he'd uttered the first time my blade touched his throat rang in my ears. "You're beautiful."

A chill, a fragment of a feeling, crawled up my spine, and the dark urge to bleed him dry went quiet. Slowly I withdrew my blade, leaning back to sit on his table, not caring if his papers smudged. "What do you want, slaver?"

The man's lips curled up into a snarl at the term, but he quickly tempered himself. "An alliance."

"And what exactly are we allying against?" I questioned with a hum. "We don't exactly run in the same circles."

"We are far more similar than you think, Bhaalspawn."

My blade twisted in between my fingers as I shoved forward and dug it into the back of the chair, just an inch shy of his face. Baring my teeth I let out a low growl. "Who told you what I am?"

The man smiled, not at all deterred by my blade nor my voice. "No one. I knew what you were the moment I saw you." He leaned forward, so close our noses nearly touched. "You'll want to keep that secret close though."

"Bold of you to threaten me,” I complimented with a slight raise of my brow.

"Oh, it's not a threat," he corrected. "Simply some advice from one worshiper to another."

"You worship Bhaal?"

"Gods no," he scoffed. "Murder doesn't exactly fit my particular skill set. Besides, these silks are far too fine a fabric to stain with all that blood. No, I prefer power... Status... Tyranny."

I rolled my eyes with a quiet scoff of my own. "A disciple of Bane then. How fitting for a cocksure man."

His head tilted slightly, eyes dragging down the length of me as I leaned back into the table. "I'm certain we'll have plenty of time to explore how cocksure I am whilst we work together."

"I haven't agreed to work with you yet."

"Yes you have," he replied, confident and unwavering. "You see the potential in such an alliance. Two dark gods are more powerful together than one alone. United we could do so much more."

With a quiet hum I regarded his words carefully. He held some semblance of truth in his statement. Bhaal was not as strong as he once was, his worship and power long declined. Uniting, even if just for a short time, with another Chosen could prove to be useful in achieving both our goals. There was something in me that stirred beneath the man's steady, unflinching gaze... Something warm and foreign. Once again his first words to me filled my mind. "You're beautiful."

Reaching forward I pulled my blade from the wood and pointed it at his neck again. "Get rid of the flyers or the next time we meet my blade will bury itself in your throat."

"Does that mean you accept?" He questioned with almost a giddy smirk.

"It means I'll consider it." 

I wearily watched him rise to his feet, towering over me. "How shall I summon you again?"

My jaw clenched. "You do not summon me. If the Temple of Bhaal agrees to participate in this plot of yours I shall find you."

"And if not?"

"Then I will still find you, and I will kill you."

"Splendid," he mocked with a clever bow. "I, Enver Gortash, shall eagerly await your return."

"The flyers," I reminded, stepping around him to move back toward the window.

His boots scuffed against the floor, the boards creaking beneath his weight. "What shall I call you? Assassin? Or your moniker perhaps? What was it... The Dark Urge." The man, Gortash, made a displeased noise. "I'd much prefer your name if it's all the same to you."

I should have left - I had every intention just to leave, and yet my steps halted. The chilled breeze from the cracked window brought goosebumps to my arms, every hair rising on end from the cold or perhaps from the sudden and odd anticipation that filled me. I turned my head to the side, eyes slyly glancing at him as the soft whisper of the name... My name rolled off my tongue. "Remora."

Gortash smiled. It was different from the others... Softer... Genuine. The sight of it sent a sharp sensation through my chest before it vanished, and he teasingly bowed again. "I await your swift return, Remora."

Shaking off the weight of those unknown feelings I climbed through the window and leapt into the dark night. Loose shingles shifted beneath my light steps as I hurried across the rooftop. The wind stung my cheeks and threatened to pull my hood from my head as I slowed and looked back at the window. I could barely make out the shape of him standing there, looking out into the night as if he could still see me. A frustrated bubble of annoyance finally burst within me and made me want to groan as I quickly realized he was right.

I had already decided to join him.

[mugeesworld]

Ukai with a chubby partner head cannons♥︎

I've been having so much ukai with a chubby partner brain rot recently and I need to tell someone or I'll explode?!

Female y/n

NSFW

Reminder I add to head cannons randomly whenever they pop into my head so it can change daily!

If you like this go check out my luffy and franky ones! ♥︎♥︎

Now hear me out. I get Major "chubby chaser" vibes from this guy. Not in a fetish way but a way that sees your plush figure as soft and elegant. Something he can't take his eyes off of. Breath taking.

Ukai has always been drawn more to chubby women I think. The bigger the figure the more he can love. And LET ME TELL YOU. He can't keep his hands away.

Every chance this man gets he's groping you. Whether it's your ass, breasts, thighs, or stomach. He's always touching something. Even when he doesn't realize he will place a hand on your leg and lightly squeeze. He's like a magnet to your body.

He loves the way your soft body feels pressed against his and how he can feel heat radiating off you on to him almost immediately. He loves your hugs. The way you wrap your arms around his back with your tits pressed against his chest so he can get a eye full.

He has to look away to keep himself from full on digging his face into your soft chest. If he could he would stay there forever. That's heaven for him.

That being said he loves cuddling you. He loves nothing more then to come home everyday to see his beautiful girlfriend laying on their bed playing on her phone. Quickly discarding of his work clothes and hoping into the warm bed with you and savoring every inch of your body.

Letting his hands explore your curves and dips as if they were unexplored areas hoping to find some treasure. And trust me. He did everytime. He never gets tired of rubbing his hands up and down your sides. Softly sliding one up your shirt while the other reaches down to grab your waist and ass to pull you closer to him.

Every tiny bit of space between y'all he sees as wasted potential so he always pulls you closer to him. Their is nothing that's stopping this man from feeling ever inch of you. And he's gonna no matter what it takes.

Watching your every move. Any time you would shift as a reaction his hands tracing your body he would pick up on it. No matter how many times he seen your body he is always blown away by the beauty. Like those sculptures in museums he sees every detail on your body as important. Your art. A goddess. He is literally flabbergasted on how you are in his grasp.

And he will never let go.

Yes ukai had that "bad guy" look going for him. Always having that smug look on his face that he knows both pisses you off and turns you on. But with you he has a big soft side.

Even though he tends to act different around you then other people knowing he can truly relax and trust you he still acts cocky sometimes.

Ukai loves and I mean LOVES to tease you. Anywhere. Anytime. He doesn't care. He will take any chance to make you flustered/embarrassed cause he knows it makes you crazy.

If you work in the store with him you best believe ALL DAY he is doing some smug shit. Giving you sexual looks from across the room. Looking you up and down.

Going up behind you and placing his crotch just close enough to your ass so you can feel it when you're bent over restocking the shelfs. With nothing more then a simple "Need help with that?" coming from his lips. Sometimes whispering it in your ear.

Or when passing by you in a tight space making sure to over drastically rub himself against you when passing. Only saying excuse me and walking away like he ain't do shit.

If you're the type to get nervous with eye contact he takes that to full advantage. You could be walking out of the storage room when ukai starts walking slowly towards you. Looking you up and down and staring you lustfully in the eyes taking a drag of his cig. Before blowing out the smoke and licking his lips as you just stand there to nervous to move since his gaze is so intimidating.

Giving you one more look up and down and going on with his business like nothing happened once again letting you finally be able to breathe.

Oh but the other way around..... You teasing him is a whole different story. And everytime you try it. It's never the out come you thought it would be.

One day you decide to get your revenge on your boyfriend. Not in a mean way but something close. You told ukai he could go ahead to the store that you just had to fix your hair. It was nothing knew so he brushes it off and makes his way to the store that's close to yalls house.

You put on his favorite sun dress. One that's perfect for summer time but also hot. It goes up mid thigh and reveals a good bit of cleavage. He loved this dress. It made you look both elegant and sexy and every time you wore it in the past it ended up on the floor of your apartment along with his clothes ;)

You fix your hair cutely and put on your shoes and socks before making your way to the store. No one was there yet since he just flipped the sign on the door to open so it was just you and him.

You enter the store fairly quiet and make your way to the storage room to get a apron to tie your look all together. Ukai was currently looking at the newspaper at the counter waiting for a customer. Not paying attention to you at the moment.

You grab your apron that still shows your chest. You pull the strings and tie them around your back. Doing ukais next favorite thing you wear. He loves to see you in a apron. How it hugs your body and outlines your figure.

You walk out of the storage room and head over to ukai to see what all needs to be done. "What's on the schedule today?" you ask making his head turn up to face you. To his surprise he has this extra beautiful sight in front of him. Making his cheeks turn a light tint of red.

"Wow.... You do this all for me?" he asks smugly. Standing up, crossing his arms and making his way over to you. You act dumb and give him a confused look. "Do what?"

Ukai chuckles and inches closer but you swiftly dodge him and grab the clip board on his desk of everything that needed to be done. He widdens his eyes at your sudden movement but brushes it off.

"I'll start restocking the drinks in the fridge if you want to do the cans!" you say before quickly walking off before he could get a chance to respond. You head to go grab the drinks.

Ukai stands there for a moment. Confused about why you're acting like this but let's it go eventually thinking it's just you joking or something.

You make your way back out with the drinks and start to put them on the few middle shelfs. Ukai makes his way to the back grabbing the cans and walking to the isle that needs to be restocked.

He watches as you bend over to grab bottles and put them on the bottom shelf. Revealing your plush thighs and a tiny bit of your ass to him. He feels his pants tighten up at the sight, his cheeks once again turning red. He shakes his head and tries to stay focused on his task.

As he is stacking the cans on the shelf he hears a noise coming from you and turns his head. You desperately try to reach the top shelf of the tall fridge but can't reach (I'm 5'7 just go along with it💀)

You stretch and stretch trying to reach on your tippy toes but fail. You fall back on your heels with a sigh. Suddenly ukai appears behind you and grabs a few bottles reaching over you and putting them on the shelf. You smile to yourself knowing your plan worked.

You "innocently" move back a bit grinding your ass on his crotch making him grunt. You start to feel more confident now that it's working and take it a step further. "Oh here let me grab these down here for you!" you say.

"Oh no that's ok! I can~ ah" he tries to say before you bend over to grab the remaining bottles ruting back on him harder then before. You take your time grabbing the bottles before handing them to ukai.

"Here! Thank you!" you say slightly moving to face him grabbing his arm and hugging. Making sure to squeeze your boobs together.

At this point ukai has caught on and he is a mess. He hates being teased. Just as y'all finish the drinks customers start to walk in. You quickly prance off to greet the customers and see if they need help leaving ukai there sexually frustrated.

For the next hour ukai sits at the counter watching you and trying to hide the buldge growing in his pants. Once all the customers left you went back to the isle ukai was stacking the cans on and start to put them away.

Ukai puts out his cigarette walks over to the door and flips the sign to closed. You don't notice since you are currently bent over to put away the remaining cans.

As you were about to finish you feel ukai walk up behind you doing what he does as usual and rub against you as you are bending over but this time..... He didn't walk away.

You listen to him sigh as he drags his hands across your waist. "I've caught on to your little tricks sweetheart.... And I got to say. I'm not a fan. Not one bit."

Your breath shutters as you feel his hands start to roam up your dress. "Two can play that game. And I won't loose y/n." he squeezes your ass.

..... Let's just say the store remained closed for a good hour or two.

Ukai loves to see you in his shirts. Especially if they are tight on you a bit. It makes him crazy. He would prefer his shirt and a pair of short shorts over a dress any day.

He's definitely the type to keep one of your hair bows around his wrist. He loves to play with it. He says he keeps It with him cause he doesn't want to hear you complain about your hair being in the way but he would honestly be sad if you actually needed it. He would steal another.

This man would love to lay on your thighs. He wants to be crushed. Suffocated. He would die a happy man.

His favorite position is cow girl and reverse cow girl. He loves the view. Being able to grab your breasts or your ass and thighs as you ride him makes him insane.

When y'all are done and rearrange to cuddle ukai loves to cock warm you. Leaving himself inside you while y'all drift to sleep. Either a lewd dream waking him up feeling you or him start to move or his morning wood getting hard while still in you and being ready to go right when y'all wake up.

He loves sleepy morning sex. Also waking you up with sex. Watching your eyes flutter open as he slowly starts to thrust in you. Hearing you moan in your sleepy voice makes him weak. And imagine his sleepy voice too as he rails you. Damn😍

If you're tired and don't feel like riding ukai will HAPPILY do missionary or doggy style instead. He loves the way your ass bounces on him. Holding your hips and pushing as far as he can into you.

Ukai would definitely be a kinky guy. Possibly choking, hair pulling!!! (He loves when you grab his hair when he is in between your legs) maybe something to do with smoke. Like taking a hit then kissing you transfering the smoke into your mouth. Or possibly even spitting in your mouth if you're into that.

He loves your little outfits you throw on for bed. He especially loves garters. He likes pushing his fingers under them and going around rubbing your thighs. Or if they are a little tight and noticeably squishy your thighs. That shut makes him crazy.

Now hear me out. Tongue piercing. He would totally get one. And use one of those vibranting ones for your nipples and clit.

That being said. Brother could eat you out for hours. He going in that shit like he hasn't ate in days and he coming out with you all over his chin. He wants it all. He loves having your thighs squish his as he overstimulatrd you for the 3rd time that night not wanting to leave in between your legs. He'll most of the times let you but if you do it do much you're getting your legs pushed back so he can go deeper.

Also you tugging his hair to pull him closer?..... LORDDDDD! LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING it makes him insane. Like phyco he loves that shit. To the point he is moaning while eating you as you pull on his gorgeous locks. It makes him crazy. H loves having you play with his hair. Even outside of the bed room. You make fun of him sometimes saying he acts like a cat wanting to constantly be pet. He always gets embarrassed and denies it but sure enough not even 5 minutes later he's asking for you to do it again.

Not only that but face sitting? He gets weak in the knees just thinking about. And it took a lot of convincing for you to finally try it cause you we're scared to hurt him. But he wanted you on him. Sat. He will pull your legs down if you try to half ass that shit. He loves seeing you ride and grind on his face.

He told you he would tap your legs if it was ever to much. But he lied. He rather die then leave that glorious place. "GLORY GLORY WHAT A HELL OF A WAY TO DIE!" he definitely salutes before he starts.

[arckiaym]

"Viking? Mrx. Sizukie made breakfast." "..." "c'mon... It's eggs, you like those?"

"hey buddy," "go away legundo.." "I can't do that bud."

"did you get any sleep?" "...no" "yeah..uh. yeah, me neither."

"you neither?" "Yeah, I didn't realize how much I'd like. Like I started thinking, like, if I went by myself."

"and like, it was fine. I'm more efficient. I'm faster, I don't need to hunt as much. Honestly I might've already made it, probably. I'd definitely get in liss trouble, that's for sure."

"are you trying to make me feel worse??" "Haha, no, hold on."

"what I'm tryina say, is that I'd never-"

"-ever. Want to."

"hey guys? Everything ok in here? Eggs are getting cold."

"oh! Hehe, silly boys.."

"here lemme help. Momma's gotta do everything around here, huh?"

"how y'all aren't cold I'll never know. Hah..hybrids."

Mimirs. Eepy time.

In honor of pig!viking two releasing today I finished this up faster than I intended. The brain rot has me by the THROAT

Ok buckle up I have so much to say, ok

First of all, mrx sizukie, what kind of a name is that? The kind of name when you've been following a neon orange Suzuki down the freeway for like 4 hours. Also I like to imagine that pigs don't have Mr and Mrs but just, everyone uses mx and mrx because I think ? Idk they're not human why would they have human honorifics. I'm not calling ppl who use mx or mrx non human btw, u get what I mean

Second of all, eggs? Yeah, eggs. Baby zombie piglins spawn with chickens sometimes, so. So there ya go, they have chickens, idk man.

Third of all? I let them hug, that's right!! Hug it out you emotionally unavailable pig boys!! Comfort piglin head grab and bonk also both made an appearance, hope ur happy with that. I like to think that whenever piglins go to sleep their body temperature drops so that's why they sleep in piles, and is also why they got a lil blankie :)

Also I didn't talk about the backpack last time but they've got a notebook in there! (It's vikings, it's all his notes on how to be a pig. He's learning the language in there, his handwriting is terrible.)

Also when legs flops on the bed and traps vikings legs? Did anyone else's dad do this when there was a Talk to be had? Just like sit on ur feet so u can't escape? Well mine did so that's what that's about.

I made sure to add a lot of "like" and "yeah" cause if you've ever had a Conversation then u know that those nothing words are EVERYWHERE

But yeah, legs realizes how much he'd miss viking if he wasn't around and is like "aw balls this kid is my brother"

I was drawing the last panel, the shaded one, and I was like, "am I a furry artist?" So, let's all think about that for a sec. I mean like kinda, right?"

Hi @amberstormblade ily /platonic ur writing is my absolute favorite and part two is making my synapses FIRE

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Hello! I think I've got a good one. First off, for the sake of this request, let's pretend that Rook was somehow able to attend Camp Vargas (We're reaching SO far, but it's fine) and he has a male s/o who was also attending the camp (whether he's Yuu or not, I'll leave up to you), but he has serious trauma from being kidnapped by a serial killer when he was younger. And so, when Vargas captures and ties him up, the reader starts losing it and having a panic attack, thinking he's going to die. How would Rook react to this?

Hey, Anon! Thanks for sharing your brain rot ideas regarding Rook, because we love our ridiculous and theatrical hunter. Truly a wild set of circumstances I've been presented, but I love it!

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if I saw Rook attending Camp Vargas purely because the man is so athletic. He wields a huge bow with great accuracy and is proficient in stealth. He would easily be able to sneak in and just lay in wait, taking pictures secretly in the trees. The reason he would be there in the first place would absolutely be to take photographs.

Honestly, even without the extremeness of "got kidnapped by a serial killer," I can see someone having a panic attack just in general by getting kidnapped. I mean certain traumas can trigger people's fight, flight, or freeze response and it's a big mood.

What will come next is just me free writing my ideas for this, so here's y'all's present I guess lol. Also, note that I have not actually read the Vargas Camp event, but have a vague idea of what kinda went down during the event lol.

Oh my god, wait, to elaborate on this idea or whatever. I could totally see Rook in the trees, watching the whole kidnapping thing go down. Then, when Vargas would leave to claim his next unsuspecting victim, Rook would drop down next to you. Cooing in your ear that you were safe and are going to be ok, he would cut the ropes off you. Probably holding you close and just rocking you back in forth lovingly while you calm down from your panic attack. You would probably be clinging onto him and his big muscles like a koala. He would be whispering sweet words of affirmations in your ear, as he moves you to somewhere safer. Aka away from the pile of other victims lol...

You know, he would probably cut the other victims free just to cause some more fun chaos and trouble for Ashton. He probably knows that the person behind the kidnappings was Ashton anyway, because Rook is so perceptive... I could totally imagine him deciding to exact a "friendly" revenge on him for messing and actually traumatizing his beloved by telling the other victims that the culprit was Ashton and maybe some other important information to help them successfully get back at their teacher lol. Rook wouldn't have time in the moment to personally get back at him, because he would be too busy taking care of you!! Ahhh, so sweet! We love our hunter boy. Taking care of us and making sure that we feel ok and safe (in his arms lol). I can imagine that there would be cuddles as you hear the sounds of absolute chaos and screaming in the distance perhaps watching the whole fight go down from afar. The kids rebelling and enacting a revolution to overthrow Vargas. Sounds about right. I wouldn't be surprised if that would happen in game low key lol.

Ohhhh, and you know what would be the cherry on the cake? Having the reader specifically thinking and praying (maybe whimpering lol) while they're getting kidnapped that Rook would save them even though he wasn't at camp or whatever. And then having Rook actually show up?!!! *throws myself on the floor and dies* It's such a good idea. Good job, anon, you've successfully murdered me.

You also surprisingly got me to vaguely write/elaborate on your request low key, and that my dude is a feat within itself. Like I'm truly impressed. *applauds you from the floor*

[occasionallyprosie]

Nah, I don't mind rambling it's just longer than replies on Tumblr will allow.

The wonderful and difficult thing about First is there is not much to go off of even for someone who read First's story in Hyrule Historia. And there's only a few people who have roped him in so it's not like there's a wealth of fannon to build from either.

I personally see him as heartbreakingly tragic. Guy tried to fight evil and ended up locked in a dungeon for years. He was finally freed only when Demise was already a huge problem and could honestly have been so bitter for it. Dude was asked to lead the people when he'd spent years being left to rot. Add to that the goddesses loftwing (who looks a lot like Crimson) basically challenged him of "Are you worthy to be my rider?" And he still tried. He still died defending the people while Hylia raised Skyloft above the cloud barrier. He could have been "look, y'all want me to save you, but you made me so I can't. Maybe I could have (and been willing to) if I hadn't been chained in a dungeon for years..." But he had people he loved enough to go fight even though he had no chance.

@bokettochild has a wonderful characterization of First in her Blood Between Us series. I know she also is rewriting it but seeing First interact with the heroes was one of my first fics where they included him. He's so observant and almost unnervingly accurate of the heroes that get dumped in his lap.

I need to catch up on @adrift-in-thyme 's Give the Lion Fangs but everything else I've read by them is amazing.

And I still didn't answer all the questions but if you're looking for First content, I think I have one more fic rec with his direct characterization in it and one where they paint Warriors in a similar light as a sort of becoming First or channeling him... I don't know it tickles something at the back of my brain Involving First but that's so probably partly because First has a scarf but his is red.

Wow, thank you! That's some great thought food.

Yeah, most of the things I see of First is some mix of Legend, Time, and Warriors. He's got that sense of jadedness usually associated with Legend and Time, he's got that sense of duty where he'd do what's asked of him no matter its effects on him(like every Link). From what I've been looking through, he's very much a Link, and it makes sense seeing as he's their predecessor. The difference is that the first and main source of his trauma and struggles are the people he's called to protect, and yet he still protects them and gives his life for them even after all they'd done to him. A kind man would've turned his back, yet First didn't.

I did love the characterization of First in The Blood Between Us, it leans more into the jadedness that I think would set First apart from the others. Even Time and Legend, who in canon and fanon are the most jaded, don’t compare to what I'm seeing and working on making First into. He's tired, he's seen not just the worst of the darkness in the world (Demise) but some of the worst of the world itself, humans included. But he hasn't just seen it, he's experienced it.

Tell me if I'm wrong, because I have limited experience with anything related to First

But as I see it, he has that unbreakable hero's spirit, but he is broken. He's lost hope in humanity itself, the people are who he will protect but he doesn't hold any hope or trust in them. He still fights, and he will always fight (he is reincarnated to fight again and again), he will always protect the people of hyrule, he will serve his purpose. He will get up no matter what happens to him, he's unbreakable in that sense just like every single one of his reincarnations, but he has broken in that he can't truly trust or believe in anyone but himself and his goddess.

[shrineheart]

Man some shit has been going down with my DnD boy Fuck Roger and it has been a blast so far. So that means y'all gotta hear about it because I have brain rot.

So, Fuck Roger is this fella:

A classic case of "haha funny name joke" that becomes a serious character. Some notes on Roger:

He's a tiefling bard who works as a sex worker.

He's got a thick southern accent.

Fuck is his virtue name. One he chose, in part as a fuck you to his family and in part because it's what he likes to do. His father is Honor and his sister is Charity Faith so you can imagine how THAT went over.

When people ask him about it he likes to tell them "It's instructions."

Anytime someone says "Fuck!" in our game he drawls out "Yeah?" like he's answering to it.

He has an asexual boyfriend named Paul A. Deen (yes, we both went for joke names) who is a chef wizard. The pancake tattoos on his stomach are a tribute to him.

Roger comes from a rich family of philanthropists. His father is a sculptor and his mother's family would purchase art pieces and do auctions for charity etc. Which is how his parents met.

His father survived through a lot of persecution where he's from for being a tiefling. He lost his parents and brother to it. He started out life poor.

Roger is illegitimate. He's not aware of this even though it's kind of painfully obvious (his father is blue, his sister is purple, they have different horns, tails, etc)

He loves his father. His father is a good dude and knows Roger isn't his but loves him anyway.

His mother and sister were absolutely horrible to him throughout his childhood including physical abuse. His mother is a cleric so she would often just heal up wounds caused. It took him ages to convince his father something was happening because his father was often gone.

Roger's sister once tried to kill him over a boy that he wasn't even interested in. That prompted him to leave home.

He kept in contact with his father and lived with Kimora, a dragonborn woman who ran a brothel. He was of age but spent most of this time working as someone who did cleaning and fetching things.

His father sent him to bard's college. Deep down he hopes one day Roger will come to his sense, come home, and be respectable.

He fell in love with a noble's son, not realizing that said boy's sister and mother were two of his other regular customers. He had planned to run away with this boy but that information got out and he was a accused of trying to cause a scandal and blackmail the family. The boy parted ways with him but doing a complete 180 and turning against him. Roger's still not over it.

He met his current boy on a ship while running from home because said nobles would like his head on a pike. Paul was the chef.

Most of Roger's tattoos are ones he gets when marking of "races I have slept with".

He has a large tattoo of a starling on his back.

He has a tramp stamp that says Semen Demon.

Thanks to his time working in the brothel he picked up various small skills such as sign language.

His father taught him and his sister to whittle.

When people find out he's from a rich family they often see him as a kid off on a bender. He's rather quiet about his childhood but makes it clear he doesn't like his sister.

He's a good person. He doesn't like killing if he can help it. He doesn't even want his sister dead he just wants her to leave him alone.

Despite his work and how much he makes raunchy comments and jokes (the Paladin asking what a knot was is still one of my favorite moments) he's good with people. And he tries his best to make people feel comfortable.

Recent events have had him meeting up with his sister again. Their father is sick and she's trying to bring him home and while he wants to go he also doesn't want to leave his boyfriend or the party.

She's already tried fighting with him again and now they're trapped in a place where they can see each others' memories and where they will potentially lose all of their memories.

Roger doesn't want to lose his memory for all the normal reasons. But the most pressing one for him is "If we both lose our memories, I know me and we might end up in bed together and there is no way in hell that is gonna happen."

SO, where we left off last time he was about to either cast Dispel or Dimension Door to escape. The place amplifies your magic though so the results? Who knows. He and his sister flipped a coin for which spell to cast and we left on that cliff hanger last game.