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pedrostylez · 1 year

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The First Week

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

summary: reader and Javier are coworkers that typically hate each other, but find each other helpful in relieving that stress

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:4.4k

warnings etc: smut, dirty talk, light choking, unprotected p in v sex, pet names, oral male and female recieving. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: I debated back and forth about how I wanted to write these characters and I think this one and possibly the next 2 (?) will be all before “Mi Luz” to show the development of their relationship. Thank you for the kindness on “Before Mi Luz”, I enjoy everyone’s reactions and encouragement :)

Peña waited all week to see what you would do. He hoped you would beg, but something deep down told him that you wouldn’t do that. That not even if you had been a serious couple that you would be all over him like he was used to his previous girlfriends doing. You were too independent, too caught up in what you were doing to ever lean on someone else for help.

On Saturday and Sunday he dreamed of your mouth. Of your promises for next week, hoping that no one had in fact stepped out of the embassy while he was fucking you in the back of his Jeep. He dreamed of the noises you made and how you were a totally different person from what he saw from his desk.

On Monday he was antsy. He came into work surprisingly early-the security guards, the other workers were all surprised to see him. He just said he “needed to get a head start on paperwork.’ But when you came in you didn’t even make eye contact with him–not even a glance in his direction. You walked right past his desk, speaking lightly to Murphy (who had his head on his desk) a good morning and then down the hallway and stairs to the archives.

On Tuesday he was determined to get you to speak to him. He went all of Monday listening to what everyone did on the weekend, how the drinks were on Friday and “wish he could of made it”’s and not a peep about you and him staying late. He was confident no one knew and that left the window open to see if you would want him again. He was desperate for anything from you.

He went down to the archives twice that day, asking you for help on a couple different bits of information. He fished for any sign of nervousness or attraction and got nothing in return. He left the door open to the archives on both occasions.

On Wednesday he did not come in early, but immediately went to the archives to find Murphy there already asking for your help. “I’m hoping you can find something on him?” Murphy’s hair was a mess and you looked flustered. It wasn’t typical for you to be flustered at Murphy, but if both of you were out of sorts…

“Steve, I’m telling you, I’ve never heard that name before. I need a connection to it that I do have to see if the name pops up. Then I can create a file on them specifically.” You sounded exasperated, looking over to Pena as if to say ‘what is Murphy’s deal today?’

“What’s the name?” Peña could help without just pushing your buttons, right?

Murphy’s head whipped around, surprised to see Javier in the same room as you without poking fun at you. Murphy fed Peña the same information he said to you, you glanced down to your notes and adding a few more details as more information poured from Murphy’s brain. You tracked it, noticing the differences in what he told you versus Peña, noting in your brain where you might be able to find information.

Javier listened intently, watching you take additional notes and realizing that Murphy had been too vague originally. “You have to always give her the whole run down even if she knows who she is looking for. Being vague makes her files inaccurate Murphy.”

You looked at him with your eyes the size of dinner plates, mouth slightly open. How did he know that? “It’s okay Steve, I think I may be able to look at a few files and I can bring something up to you within the hour. I know I typically already have a grasp on what you’re talking about, I just had a rough night last night.” You smiled lightly, trying to break the tension between Peña and Murphy.

Murphy grunted, apologizing for not being as detailed and said he would go grab coffee--that maybe he was just not awake enough yet. Murphy slid past Peña, eyeing him briefly and asking if he was going to join him. “I’ll be up in a minute, have my own question.”

When the room cleared of Murphy you sighed, glancing at the door and seeing it still open. “Which file do you need, Peña?”

“I thought I was Javier now?” He smirked, leaning against one of the tables that held stacked files not yet put away. You looked directly at him, which was all he wanted for the past couple days. “Why was last night rough?”

“I went out.” You declared quickly, glancing back down at your notes and putting the pieces together in your brain of what Murphy was requesting. “Susan and Amy wanted help getting a lay and asked for me to show them how.”

He felt the heat in his body rise quickly, almost to anger. “And did you? Show them how?” He had to take a breath–it wasn’t like he asked you not to or that you were exclusive.

You thought you hid your smirk, typing into the computer quickly but he caught it and he knew he had been busted for being jealous. “What does it matter to you, Peña?”

He paused, tapping on the table and picking up a random file. “It has almost been a week and no one has batted an eye at either of us being absent from the party.” He raked his eyes to you, blue blouse with ruffled sleeves, smooth from collarbone to hip with your pencil skirt ending just above your knees. Some stylish sandals on your feet instead of sneakers you sometimes wore–it meant you drove into work instead of walking. “Do I have to wait a full week before I ask if you want to go out?”

You paused your typing, looking up at him. “We aren’t going to go out on a date, Javier.”

He felt himself melt and wince at the same time. “I figured you were the type of girl that wanted some wining and dining before doing–”

“Based on last time, do you actually think that or are you just trying to have an excuse to talk about this at work?” you scoffed, feeling your head start to hurt. The tequila flowed too easily last night, and the guy was not as good as you thought he was going to be. “Don’t come in here to talk to me about whatever it is that you want. You ask about intel, archives, and administrative things. That’s it.”

He clenched his teeth, feeling the heat of embarrassment reach his cheeks but wanted to prove you wrong. “Fine.”

On Thursday he left you alone.

On Friday he came in early and waited until you were in the archives to walk down there. Murphy was out, the office was busy answering the phones, and this was a perfect time. He walked in, seeing you on a step ladder and turned away from him. Your ass was at eye level in the work pants you were in, belt cinched around your waist and a flowing green blouse riding up so he could see your smooth back. He closed the door behind him quietly in the hopes that you didn’t hear him. “It’s Friday, hermosa.”

You jumped, almost losing your footing as you whipped your head to the direction his voice was coming from. “Peña, you can’t corner me at work. This is my job.” You were so flustered with him standing in your space. You were just trying to put files away, and the ladder wasn’t high (only a couple steps) but it wouldn’t have been a fun fall. You turned, acutely aware of his eyes on your lower half and made it so he was level with your stomach.

“It is my job to ask you questions and for your help, which means I will be in your space hermosa.” He breathed out, glancing down at your shoes and seeing your laces were coming untied. He was trying to not lose his nerve. “It has been a week and I have been dying to be alone with you.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, turning back around so his face was now level with your ass again. If he was going to be a perv then so be it. “Get your eyes off my ass and get it through your skull that we can’t do anything at work. I won’t jeopardize it-I need the money.”

He scoffed. Maybe getting you riled up was the way to get you to fuck him. “The other girls don’t seem to mind.” He was trying to get under your skin, and you weren’t going to let him know that it was working. “Your shoes are coming untied cariño.”

“What does that mean? Cariño? Hermosa?” You felt out of the loop, looking at your own shoes and grumbling, stepping down carefully from the steps.

He tilted his head, noting that your Spanish was so poor that you couldn’t even tell a pet name from a swear word. “You really are just going to ignore how I said the other girls in the office beg me to fuck them here?” He felt like he was losing a battle that didn’t really matter in the scheme of it all, but he wanted to see some sort of emotion on your face. Anything. He couldn’t stop getting you out of his mind from last week and how you laughed when you were alone with him. You had stopped getting angry with him and maybe that was a good sign, but the monotone felt worse.

“Well you didn’t say it like that the first time.” You sighed, stepping around him and being careful to not touch him. “If you need information ask it, otherwise, get out of my archives.”

“Let me drive you home later.” It was a demand, not a question. He wanted to reach out and grab your arm to get you to look at him, but instead he got in front of you and on to his knees, reaching for your shoe laces.

Your breath stuttered, holding on to the file in your hand with fluttering fingers, surprised he was here in front of you like this. “What are you doing?” His fingers reached out to your ankle, pulling your foot up on to his one raised knee and looking up at you.

“You were going to trip eventually, and I didn’t want to see your knees scraped up from that at least.” He mumbled, finishing your shoe laces and glancing up at you. Your cheeks were flushed and he felt the satisfaction settle in his stomach. “Can I drive you home later? I know you walked today.”

“How do you know that?” You felt breathless, dropping one foot as he went to pick up the other and place it firmly on his leg.

“You’re wearing sneakers instead of those sandals. And I drove by you this morning.” He smirked, seeing your eyes widen. “You were very cute walking up the hill by the corner market-”

You breathed out, rolling your eyes. “I plan on staying late and the girls wanted me to go out.”

“Again? Tell them you can’t and I’ll drive you home.” He was getting desperate. He wanted to be alone with you again. The hurt of you going out more often than not didn’t matter. He dropped your foot and stood back in front of you.

The pause was long as you looked through the file, glancing at the information and committing it to memory. You looked up, his hands on his hips staring back at you. He was biting the inside of his cheek, his only sign that he was nervous.

“Fine. But you’ll have to wait for me.” Maybe that would deter him.

“I will wait as long as you need.” He nodded, immediately leaving the archives and keeping your door open.

At five o’clock, Susan and Amy cornered you at the coffee station that was next to where Peña and Murphy still sat. You were making tea in the hopes that it wouldn’t be too hot by the time you got back downstairs. “Babe come with us! What changed from this morning?” Susan was yanking on your arm, purse already in her hand.

“I know, but I have more to finish and Tuesday night wasn’t really that fun.” You mumbled, hoping it wasn’t too loud. You didn’t need the whole office knowing your business.

Peña’s ears perked up but he left his face stoic. He was straining to listen, but he made the preemptive decision to unplug the phone at his desk 30 minutes ago so he could concentrate on what he was doing and it just happened to work for listening in to your conversation.

“What?” Amy laughed, pushing at your shoulder lightly. “You showed us all the moves and then went with what’s his name? Robert? He was so cute and clearly smitten with you!”

Peña ground his teeth. He would find this Robert.

“That’s nice and all but he wasn’t that great. And I don’t want to see him again and have him think I like him. One and done you know?” You stirred your tea bag in the water and squeezed it out, tossing it in the trash. “I’ll see you ladies on Monday. Try out the moves I showed you guys and let me know how it goes!”

Peña watched you wave them off, casually rubbing your sneakers on the back of your pants from where Susan had stepped on them. He had a single chuckle bubble out, making Murphy look up at him with a pointed expression. “Stop listening to them.”

“I just can’t believe that they ask her for moves. Her?” Peña felt like he was trying too hard to get Murphy to not see what was right in front of him.

Murphy hummed, looking back at his paperwork and stacking it up. “I’m going to drop these off to her for filing away since she is staying and then heading home. Do you want to come over tonight? Wife is making some fancy something and invited over some of her friends.”

“No, thank you I am going to finish this up and I’ll head home too. Maybe I’ll meet Susan and Amy at the bar?” Peña laughed, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

Peña hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long for you.

An hour and a half later, you appeared in front of Peña’s desk. “Are you still working?” You questioned, your bag on your shoulder and your fingers playing with the buckle on the end of the strap.

He looked up at you feeling suddenly breathless. “No, just busy work. Are you ready to go?”

You nodded, giving a stiff closed-mouthed smile, and waited for him to grab his jacket and turn off his lamp. You followed him out to his Jeep, again the only car in the lot, and casually glanced at him once you were in his passenger seat. His eyes were already on you, sticking to you like glue while turning over the engine to bring the car to life. “Stop staring, Peña.”

“Can’t I be Javier now?” He smiled, pulling out of the lot and onto the main street toward his apartment. “Would you want to have takeout with me? There’s a mean Indian place down the street that is actually pretty good given that we aren’t in India.” He laughed, looking over at you again to see your eyes already on him. “Or we could have something else.” He felt himself wanting to ramble.

You smirked, making him feel butterflies in his stomach. “I like Indian if you pick the meals, Javier.”

He really didn’t know how he got here-truly.

One minute you both were watching some stupid movie while opening up the food that was just delivered, even though you couldn’t understand what was being said in the movie. He was questioning how you had not learned any of the language you were immersed in, especially since you read transcripts from all the intel. You explained how it was all translated to English by the time it was on your desk, and you typically could play the “stupid American” card when you were in the store.

The next minute you were on your knees in front of him after he made a comment about how you swore much more when you were relaxed and that your mouth would get you into trouble.

Peña’s chest rose and fell heavily, anticipation making him clench his fists around the fabric of the seat cushion. “How much trouble do you think I could get into?” You asked, smiling as you ran your hands up his legs still covered in his jeans.

He was impossibly hard. From 0 to 100, ready for you. “I think you could get into lots of trouble, especially looking like that.” The way his voice dropped never really made sense to him, but he couldn’t help it. And he saw the way your eyes lit up when you noticed the tone he took with you, and it made him want to find a way to speak to you like this around others.

“How do I look?” You asked, cheeks going red as you realized what you asked. You weren’t typically one to fish for compliments, but something in the way he spoke made you want him to keep going.

His pupils were blown out as he reached for your jaw and skimmed his thumb across your bottom lip. “Like you want to beg for my cock.”

The whine that left you couldn’t be helped. You didn’t mean to, but Peña didn’t mind. You reached forward to unbutton his pants as his hand traveled down your neck and across your collarbone, pulling at the flimsy buttons that pieced together your blouse. He could see the blush that started just above your breasts, traveling up to your face and lips, making them look plusher. He lifted his hips as you pulled down on his jeans, cock slapping against his stomach as you took him in.

“Are you going to beg for it?” He ground out in a husky tone, feeling the pearl of precum drop onto his lower stomach. He saw your eyes on him, unable to pull away from his lower half, making him move his hand up to the back of your head and tug at the hair at the nape of your neck.

You gasped, eyes raking up to his face and seeing a similar flush on him. “Please, Peña.”

He closed his eyes and squeezed his fingers, slightly digging into the back of your head. “Try again bebe, you know how to get what you want.”

You could guess what that word meant and it made your heart flutter. “Please, Javier.”

He groaned, pulling your head closer to him, watching your mouth as it opened, tongue sticking out slightly to greet the head of his cock first. The minute your lips were wrapped around him, he threw his head back and exhaled deeply. “Fuck-that’s it. Show me your moves Susan and Amy won’t shut the fuck up about muñeca. Huh?”

You lifted your hand to the base of him, giving him one short stroke and then holding firm to direct him where you wanted. Your eyes fluttered up to his face as you pulled back, bringing spit to the front of your mouth and letting it drool onto the head mixing with his precum. “I don’t know what you mean, Javier.” You smirked, leaning back down and giving one long lick from your thumb to the underside of the head wrapping your lips back around him and bobbing.

The minute you started bobbing your head on him after that little show, he knew you had every guy left in your path thinking about you constantly. The way you gripped him, the way your tongue seemed to wrap around him to aid your sucking had him flying to the moon.

He groaned, looking down at you and seeing your spit gather at the corners of your mouth, how you breathed out of your nose only when he was mostly pulled out, and how your eyes were watching his mouth. “Do you want to kiss me azúcar?” He huffed, pulling you off of him and letting you take a deep breath.

Without letting you answer he grabbed your upper arm, yanking you to him and enveloping your mouth with his. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, desperate to be closer to you.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, sitting on his upper thighs in a similar way that you did in his car. He detached himself from your lips, kissing down your neck and bringing his fingers to your blouse. He bit at your collarbone, unbuttoning the last few buttons and pushing the sleeves from your shoulders, revealing a green bra that matched your shirt.

“Will you let me have you again cariño?” He breathed, looking up at you as he pulled down the cups of your bra, squeezing your chest and rubbing his thumb over your nipples. “What do you need?”

You felt like you could cry by how good he was making you feel. It had been a long week of avoiding Peña to not get too worked up. You tried to find someone else-anyone else-but it just wasn’t the same. The thrill, the encouragement-

“Where did you go, baby?” He looked up at you, concern apparent on his face as he slowed his touches, pulling away from your chest. You yanked his hands back to you, leaning in to kiss him quickly.

“Just fuck me, Peña.” You whispered, standing up to undo your own belt as he tried to compose himself. He took off his own shirt, watching as you dropped your pants and stood straight again. He stood as well, wrapping his hands around your hips to reach your ass and squeeze.

“Bend over the couch.” He said lowly, twisting you around and maneuvering you to the arm of the couch, hips resting firmly on the end and your hands outstretched. He groaned, slapping your left cheek lighting and then kneeling down like he did earlier to tie your shoe, but now to taste you. “Just give me a taste hermosa, you look too good to not have a little.”

You moaned into the couch cushion, his nose at your entrance and his tongue snaking out to lick at your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. His hand was wrapped around his own cock, pumping it quickly as he lost himself in the taste of you.

He stood soon after, continuing to pump himself as he lined himself up and pushed to the hilt, both of you groaning in unison. “Fuck–I can’t get enough of you.”

The snap of his hips made your hips push into the arm of the couch in an almost painful way, the sound of his skin slapping against yours absolutely obscene. “Oh-ahh-Javi fuck yes.”

You used his name again and again, and it made his eyes roll in the back of his head. Did you not understand what you did to him? He reached forward and grabbed your hair, pulling lighting to direct you to stand up. “Do I feel good inside you baby? Huh? Tell me no one fucks you like I do.”

You resisted, hands reaching forward to the arm of the couch but he pulled back harder making you squeal out. He continued to push into you, his other hand reaching around and squeezing at your chest. “Yes, y-you do. Fuck-you make me feel so good.”

“Is anyone else able to make you feel like this?” He persisted, moving his hand down to your core and finding your clit easily, and making lazy circles with his middle finger. “I can’t fuck anyone else but you now, don’t you understand?”

You nodded slowly, sweat building on the back of your neck as your core began to shake. “Only you make me feel like this Javi.”

He smiled, pushing into you quicker and letting go of your hair, moving his arm around to your neck and holding you up from there. “That’s right baby, only me huh? Fuck-I can feel you squeezing me. I want you to cum. Can you do that?” He continued to circle your clit, not changing the pace or pressure.

You nodded frantically, holding on to his forearms as he wouldn’t let you lean forward moaning as your release began. “I’m-fuck–I can’t stop.”

“Don’t want you to stop hermosa, cum all over me. Make a fucking mess.” He was straining to hold out, wanting to hear you before he lost himself too.

You started your release, bigger than the last time you were with him and he immediately started to release too. Groaning together in unison as you saw white, breath leaving you quickly as he continued to push into you until he stuttered and held your hips to his.

A few moments passed with him leaning his forehead on your back until he was sure you were ready and he pulled out of you slowly. He silently went to the bathroom, found a towel, and brought it out to you.

“Thanks.” You laughed awkwardly, cleaning yourself up before finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs. You looked at him, still naked and going soft as he scratched the back of his head.

“I uh–I want to let you know that if you want to I would be okay doing this more often.” He stumbled out, glancing at your and your perfect recline on his sofa in only underwear, breasts out and legs shaking.

You laughed lightly, looking at him again. “Yeah, I think I would be okay with that Peña.”

#javier pena x reader smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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gardensofbabilon · 2 months

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୨୧ Rooftop ୨୧ - Enzo Vogrincic.

enzo vogrincic x fem reader.

! tem de tudo aqui.

a/n: primeira vez que eu escrevo pro tumblr! obrigada xexy por me inspirar a escrever em português o que eu planejava em ingles ahahahah.

É dia 31/12 e você está na festa de ano novo do seu melhor amigo, Matías, porém sem nenhum beijo de ano novo, quem poderá mudar isso?

''Andale, gorda'' Fran exclamou, batendo palma na porta do quarto. Faltavam poucas horas para a festa anual do Matias começar, vocês sempre se arrumavam juntos e você sempre era a atrasada.

A roupa desse ano era um vestido novo que havia comprado em promoção na sua loja preferida do shopping, ele era branco com algumas borboletas desenhadas, porém ainda era transparente e sexy, desenhava todo o corpo quando batia qualquer fonte de luz e você amava aquilo.

"Estou pronta, Fraaan'' Gritou descendo as escadas saltitando, o amigo retribuiu a intensidade pegando em suas mãos e rodando pela sala ''Dessa vez eu não serei seu beijo de ano novo, tenho certeza!" Tinham essa tradição por serem os dois únicos solteiros do grupo de amigos e o beijo de ano novo era importante para os dois.

Ao chegar no rooftop que recebia a festa mais esperada do ano, você e Fran buscam entre a multidão alguém interessante para conversar, o objetivo dessa noite era encontrar um homem para te dar um beijo, e que esse homem não seja o mesmo de sempre.

"Você sabe que eu posso te beijar, né?" Pipe se aproxima por trás e te da um beijo na nuca, apesar de todas as investidas você nunca deu muita atenção, mas todos esses anos sozinha estão me fazendo considerar uma chance.

Até que ele chegou.

''Enzo! Que saudade!'' Escutou Matias exclamar do outro lado da festa, ele passa correndo para conversar com o homem com cabelos longos e escuros que adentra o ambiente vestindo uma camiseta de botão e uma calça bege. E é nessa hora que seus olhares se encontram.

As pessoas se amontoam ao redor dele, como se tivesse algum tipo de imã que atraia atenção para si, porém seus olhos não desgrudavam dos seus. Sentiu todos os seus órgãos revirarem enquanto o seu corpo arrepia.

Passaram as próximas horas trocando olhares a distância, enquanto você sentia o queimar no pescoço durante as danças mais provocantes, que pra falar a verdade eram propositais. Qualquer um que olhasse perceberia a vontade presa dentro dos dois de se tocarem.

''Atenção galera, tá chegando a hora, se juntem ao beijo de vocês!" Esteban grita para que todas as pessoas escutem, seus olhos correm a procura de Fran, que havia sumido logo assim que chegamos. Enzo está encostado na parede encarando você com seu vestido branco quase transparente, aquela era a hora perfeita para atacar.

Se não for agora, não vai ser nunca.

"Oi! Meu nome é (S/N) e o seu?" Se aproxima aos poucos em meio aos gritos.

'' Enzo! Você também ta sozinha" Ele pergunta se abaixando e encarando seus lábios.

"Estou, nunca te vi por aqui antes" Retruca colando seu corpo ao dele.

"Se eu soubesse onde te encontrar teria vindo mais cedo! Nunca botei fé nas festas do Mat"

Ri tímida enquanto sinto a mão dele envolver a sua cintura.

''Me concede a honra de ser meu beijo de meia noite?" Ele sussurra em seu ouvido.

"Eu adoraria" Joga seus braços ao redor do pescoço dele.

FELIZ ANO NOVO!

Os lábios do Enzo se encostam aos seus e o calor envolve todo o seus corpo, coloca seus dedos nos fios de cabelo longos e escuros do homem, sentindo a respiração do maior pesar, envolvendo ainda mais seus corpos e acariciando sua cintura com força. "A gente pode continuar na sua casa?" Você interrompe o momento sorrindo de canto para o rapaz que agora segura sua bunda.

Ele abre o caminho para passagem de vocês através da porta e na sua cabeça só se passava o quanto estava molhada embaixo de toda essa roupa, parecia que esse homem veio diretamente dos seus sonhos. Mas eu não era do tipo de pessoa que dava para alguém no primeiro olhar trocado.

Entramos no elevador e a tensão ali era palpável, o moreno me encarava com os olhos abertos e parecia que via o seu tesão respingar através do vestido branco quase transparente, a luz do elevador revelava mais do que gostaria no momento, inclusive seus seios com os bicos duros. O tempo parecia não passar ali dentro, seu coração batia cada vez mais rápido.

''Que se foda'' Ele aperta o botão vermelho que causa uma parada brusca no transporte. Logo em seguida suas bocas se devoram intensamente, o suor escorria nas costas dele, era impossível resistir. Suas pernas se estremeceram conforme foi colocada contra a parede, a pressa em tirar todas as coisas que estavam no caminho do prazer devorava Enzo.

''Eu não sou do tipo que da no primeiro encontro'' Você separa os seus corpos agora totalmente exposta, ao ouvir a frase que sai da sua boca, Enzo ri ironicamente e passa a sua mão no meio das suas pernas, sentindo como já estava totalmente molhada.

''Sua buceta diz o contrário'' Ele sussurra em seus ouvidos, fazendo-a soltar um gemido baixo. ''Você quer que eu te foda?'' Ele pergunta com os olhos grandes.

Só faltava implorar por aquele momento. ''Sim, Enzo. Me fode como se eu fosse sua puta'' Você responde afastando as pernas e agarrando nele. ''Como você quiser, minha puta''.

#enzo #enzo vogrincic #vogrincic #sociedad de la nieve #society of the snow #au #sn #enzo x reader #sn x enzo #lsdln #lsdln cast

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creads · 9 days

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⭐️ that's how you get the girl. fem!reader x felipe otaño (parte 2)

🪐 minha masterlist

» continuação desse one-shot, por favor não leia a parte 2 sem ter lido a 1!

» cw: smut! por favor só interaja se for +18 ; angst + fluff; pipe romântico hihihiii; fingering; um pouco de dry humping; oral f recieving; p in v; sexo sem proteção; creampie; praise kink; manhandling e pipe!possessivo but in a romantic way; o puro suco de love making ✨.

» wn: parte final e feliz dessa historinha, ebaa! espero que vocês gostem 💋💝

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A vez que deu certo

Não sabia ao certo o motivo que te fez aceitar a sair com o homem, talvez fosse a insistência dele, ou o rosto e físico bonito, ou o fato de se sentir sozinha longe da sua família brasileira justamente no dia do seu aniversário. Ele era um jogador de futebol simpático que estava de passagem por Buenos Aires e te convidou - pela enésima vez - para jantar com ele. Já tinha comemorado com as suas amigas no dia anterior, então decidiu aceitar: melhor do que ficar sozinha. Enquanto se maquiava, tentava se distrair do fato de que Felipe até agora não tinha te mandado nenhuma mensagem, um comportamento muito diferente do habitual, principalmente no seu aniversário. Será que ele finalmente tinha desencalhado de você? Seu coração apertou um pouco ao considerar essa possibilidade, não é como se você gostasse de torturar Felipe, mas se ele finalmente parasse de te procurar, o fim da relação se tornaria mais real do que você gostaria.

Se sentia mal em pensar no garoto que te magoou quando estava prestes a sair com outro. Será que eu deveria ter aceitado o pedido de desculpas? E agora? Realmente o perdi pra sempre? Será que ele conheceu outra menina que fez ele esquecer de você?

Estranhou quando a música na caixinha de som foi interrompida por uma ligação da sua amiga, ela já tinha te ligado e desejado parabéns mais cedo.

— Alô?

— Você viu o que o Pipe postou?

— Não. O que foi?

— Vê o instagram dele, rápido.

A ligação foi curta, não conseguia identificar o tom na voz da sua amiga, era empatia? Ah não, é uma foto com outra menina? Não deu tempo ao seu cérebro de pensar em outras possibilidades: desbloqueou o celular - que já tinha muitas notificações sobre a postagem - e abriu o aplicativo na velocidade da luz, e entrou no perfil do menino.

Antes mesmo dos clipes aparecerem, ouviu o toque de uma música muito familiar para você: Exagerado do Cazuza, além de ser uma de suas músicas favoritas, lembrava que tinha apresentado ela para Felipe na época que ficavam, lembra-se muito bem também de quando ensinou a palavra em português: “Exagerado, isso que você é. Eu tenho que ir embora, Pipe”, você se recorda de dizer isso com um sorriso enorme no rosto, enquanto ele te segurava muito firme contra o corpo dele a fim de te segurar na cama dele, só mais um pouquinho. “Exagerado… Pra você ficar aqui comigo? Vou ser o cara mais exagerado do mundo”, ele te fazia derreter ao pronunciar a palavra do jeito mais brasileiro que podia, enquanto distribuía beijinhos pelas suas costas desnudas.

Videos de você começaram a aparecer de forma sincronizada com a música, você se lembra de muitos desses momentos que ele apontava a câmera em sua direção: o dia que ele decidiu te gravar que nem um bicho do Animal Planet enquanto escovava os dentes, porque de acordo com ele, “você é uma gatinha”; você andando pelo museu de Madrid agarrada nos bíceps do garoto enquanto analisava as pinturas; o dia que ele te forçou a ver um jogo do River e ainda te fez usar a camisa; e a noite que vocês se beijaram pela primeira vez, quando ainda tomavam o sorvete pelas ruas. Tinha, também, vídeos seus que não percebeu que ele tinha gravado: jogando beer pong com os colegas de elenco, dormindo na cadeira de maquiagem, andando de um lado pro outro enquanto conversava com uma amiga no telefone, dançando alegre nas festas.

Você deveria ter imaginado, sabia que Felipe era completamente apaixonado por você, era claro que ele gravaria momentos seus assim, era a musa dele. O vídeo acabou e você sentiu os olhos se encherem de lágrimas, que finalmente escorreram quando leram a legenda: “Eu exagero, mas só por você. Te amo, gatinha. Feliz aniversário.”

Respirou fundo, com a cabeça apoiada nas mãos. Pegou a bolsa e pediu um Uber, para o único destino possivel.

Quando chegou no endereço, bateu na porta algumas vezes, impaciente com a demora a ser atendida. Quando ela foi aberta, se deparou com Pipe em seu estado natural: vestia uma camisa do River, bermuda e usava um boné. Os olhos dele brilharam quando te viram, não conseguiu nem falar nada antes de você entrar no apartamento, passando pelo lado dele, que fechou a porta atrás de você e te encarava enquanto você parecia visivelmente atordoada.

— Que porra é essa, Felipe? Você é maluco? Como… Porra, como é que você posta uma coisa dessas? — Você não disse, gritou. O peito do garoto subia e descia mais rápido enquanto te encarava, muito agitada. — Primeiro você termina comigo e acaba comigo completamente, depois se arrepende e fica atrás de mim falando essas coisas, e depois você posta… ISSO? Como que você faz isso comigo, cara? — Enquanto desabafava, já tinha desistido de tentar segurar as lágrimas. Felipe te encarava enquanto franzia o cenho, não acreditava que finalmente você tinha reconhecido um gesto dele.

Silêncio preenche a sala do apartamento do garoto, ele não sabe como reagir, o que falar, não quando você o olha com essa carinha de quem está tão mexida quanto ele. Ele fica parado ali que nem um fantasma.

— Você tá muito bonita… — É a única coisa que ele consegue falar, baixinho, e você não consegue conter uma risada seca, incrédula com a frase que acabou de sair da boca dele.

— Porra, é isso que você tem a dizer? Eu… — Não consegue nem terminar a frase, e sinceramente, nem sabe o que ia falar, parece que seu coração vai sair pela boca. — Pega um copo de água pra mim, por favor. — Você pede o garoto, ofegante, e em questão de segundos ele te entrega e para na sua frente enquanto te vê beber o líquido, numa tentativa de se acalmar. — Como é que eu vou confiar em você de novo, Pipe? — Você diz após se acalmar um pouco e deixar o copo na mesinha, encara o chão, os olhos azuis bem na sua frente te abalariam mais ainda, por isso evita o contato visual. Sente a mão grande encostar na sua bochecha, e se entrega ao toque, fechando os olhos molhados.

— Aquele dia eu terminei com você porque tinha muito medo do que sentia, era um amor fora do comum. Não conseguia te falar o que eu sentia, eu mesmo não entendia como era possível sentir tanto por você em tão pouco tempo. — Ele dizia, carinhoso, enquanto acariciava seu rosto. — Hoje eu entendo que não importa o que eu faça, não importa o quanto eu me afaste de você, isso não vai mudar. Eu vou te querer sempre, no melhor e no pior. Eu sou seu, desde a primeira vez que eu te beijei. Agora, eu só quero que você volte a ser minha. — Você abriu os olhinhos ao ouvir isso sair da boca do garoto, que sorria bobinho, feliz.

Você não sabia o que dizer, Felipe nunca foi o tipo de conseguir externalizar seus sentimentos, a declaração te pegou de desprevinida. Claro, sabia que ele sentia sua falta, mas não sabia que era tanto assim. Pensava em o que responder, quando ele disse com um sorriso, e os olhinhos cheios de emoção: “Claro, se você quiser ser minha de novo”. Depois disso, não tinha segredo, não tinha o que ser dito, você o beijou ali mesmo, no meio da sala, ainda com o rosto molhado de lágrimas. A língua dele passeava por dentro da sua boca, matando a saudade, as mãos dele que estavam na sua cintura te puxavam desesperadamente para mais perto, já as suas retiravam o boné e jogaram ele em qualquer canto na casa para que pudesse puxar os cabelos do garoto, com saudade de sentir a textura das madeixas cheirosas e com urgência de aprofundar o beijo.

As mãos de Felipe subiram para a sua nuca, desesperado, nada que fazia era suficiente para matar a saudade que estava de te ter só para ele. Não quebraram o beijo enquanto cambaleavam pela sala até chegarem no sofá, e quando ele te deitou lá, se afastou dos seus lábios e tirou a camisa. Parecia a visão do paraíso: o torso definido e a correntinha ao redor do pescoço. Claro que não era a primeira vez que tinha visto ele sem camisa, tampouco nesse contexto em que ele estava prestes a te fuder, mas fazia muito tempo, tinha até a impressão que ele estava mais forte. Estava encantada, passava as unhas pelo abdômen e peitoral forte do garoto, arranhando de levinho a região, o suficiente para deixar traços vermelhinhos pela pele clara de Otaño.

Felipe interrompeu seu transe ao tirar seu vestido, te deixando só de calcinha. Retomou o beijo com mais urgência ainda, enquanto agarrava suas coxas e sua bunda, movia os quadris contra a sua buceta ainda coberta pela calcinha, que já estava molhada antes mesmo de sentir o pau duro e quente escondido pela da bermuda. E, como se ele pudesse ler sua mente apressada, começou a beijar seu pescoço, succionando a pele e dando mordidinhas, enquanto descia com as mãos pelo seu tronco até chegar na sua buceta, enfiou a mão por baixo da sua calcinha e separou os dedos a fim de massagear seus lábios, evitando seu clitóris tão necessitado de propósito, enquanto espalhava a lubrificação pela região.

— Por favor, Pipe… — A frase saiu como um sussurro dos seus lábios.

— Por favor o que? — O garoto instigou, provocante.

— Para de me provocar, coloca seus dedos em mim, me chupa, faz o que você quiser comigo, mas, por favor… Faz logo…

Se não estivesse tão desesperado por você quanto você por ele - na verdade, estava mais -, teria ignorado seu pedido, pois nesse momento, foi lembrado como é excitante ouvir você implorar por ele, mas o que mais queria era sentir seu gostinho na língua dele. Então, sem demorar mais um segundo, foi descendo pela sua barriga, passando as mãos pelas suas curvas e dando beijos molhados até chegar na sua buceta necessitada. Antes de colocar a boca no lugar onde você mais precisava, Felipe deu beijos molhados na parte interna da sua coxa, te olhava contorcer enquanto dava mordidinhas na carne macia e fazia círculos com o polegar no seu clitóris ainda coberto pela calcinha, espalhando a mancha molhada que tinha se formado no tecido. Substituiu os dedos pela boca, distribuindo selinhos por cima do tecido encharcado, depois, passou a língua molinha pela região, fazendo questão de arrastar a pontinha do nariz junto. “Pipe…”, quando o nome dele saiu da sua boca como uma oração, decidiu deixar a provocação para outro dia, queria dar para a garota dele o que ela tanto precisava. Arrancou a calcinha enquanto te olhava fixamente, e não quebrou o contato visual quando finalmente te lambeu, recolhendo todo seu melzinho e gemendo em deleite ao finalmente te saborear, depois de tanto tempo ansiando pelo seu gosto. Involuntariamente, empurrou o próprio quadril contra o sofá, tentando se aliviar pelo menos um pouco.

Envolveu os braços em torno das suas pernas, apertando a parte interna da sua coxa enquanto te devorava: mexia a língua para os lados, devagarinho, te torturando. Realmente beijava sua buceta, você conseguia ouvir o barulho da língua dele matando saudade de todas as suas dobrinhas, lambendo cada centímetro, recolhendo toda gotinha que saia de você. Também escutava um barulhinho estalado quando ele chupava seus lábios e soltava, te provocando. Teve um espasmo, elevou os quadris involuntariamente, chegando até a molhar o queixo e a pontinha do nariz do garoto, ouviu uma risadinha de satisfação contra sua intimidade. Apesar de Felipe amar te deixar nesse estado só com a língua dele, tinha a missão de te fazer gozar, por isso, com apenas um braço, imobilizou seus quadris, pressionando eles contra o sofá. Quanto mais desesperados seus gemidos ficavam, mais chupava seu clitóris, enquanto dedava seu buraquinho que apertava os dedos ágeis, o movimento dentro da cavidade molhada fazia um barulhinho ensopado, música para os ouvidos do garoto, que não conseguia manter os próprios quadris parados, friccionando contra o sofá a cada gemido que você soltava. Mesmo com as suas mãos agarrando os fios fortemente, Felipe não tirava os olhos de você, estava hipnotizado pelo jeito que seu rostinho contraia quando estava prestes a gozar. Você só conseguia gemer enquanto sentia seu orgasmo vir à medida que os dedos longos trabalhavam mais rápido dentro de você, não conseguia nem abrir os olhinhos para ver o que causava os gemidos abafados de Pipe contra sua intimidade.

Enquanto respirava mais forte, ainda com os olhinhos fechados e sensibilizada do seu clímax, sentiu as mãos de Felipe subirem pelo seu corpo, quando pararam no seu rosto, passou o polegar na sua bochecha, o lugar que, há alguns minutos atrás, estava molhado de lágrimas. “Te amo”, ele sussurrou antes de te beijar. “Te amo, te amo” ele repetia enquanto te dava selinhos, e você sorriu ao ouvir a declaração carinhosa, e logo após começou a rir quando ele te dava beijinhos no rosto e pescoço, uma mistura de felicidade e cócegas.

Ele se afastou só para ver sua expressão, igual a dele: uma carinha de quem está muito, muito apaixonado. Ele selou os lábios com os seus de novo, colocando a língua na sua boca lentamente, te dava um beijo de cinema: lento, romântico, cheio de desejo. Não rompeu o ósculo quando os braços dele se enfiaram embaixo das suas costas e te levantaram do sofá, estabilizando sua nuca com a mão grande e dedos ainda molhados de você, colando seu peito no dele e colocando sua intimidade molhada no colo. O beijo se aprofundou novamente quando uma das mãos grandes apertou sua nuca, e você não conteve um gemido quando sentiu a ereção pulsante tão perto da sua buceta, ainda sensível. Otaño não conseguiu conter um sorriso sacana ao ouvir o barulho que saiu da sua boca. “Vem cá…” ele disse enquanto te mudava de posição, e com o corpo molinho pós orgasmo, Felipe te manuseou com facilidade e te pôs de joelhos no sofá, virada de costas pra ele, você até deitou a cabeça no sofá, se sentia leve, realizada.

Nessa nova posição, sentia uma mão grande passear pelas suas coxas e sua bunda, enquanto a outra retirava seu cabelo grudado na pele suada do pescoço, deixando um beijinho na região, agora, exposta. Apesar de Felipe estar louco para meter em você, não conseguia deixar de encarar seu corpo, parece que você era até mais gostosa do que ele se lembrava, era fisicamente impossível não te apalpar ao te ver empinadinha para ele, com a buceta brilhando de tão molhada, prontinha só pra ele. Se guiou para dentro de você com muita facilidade, e os dois gemeram de alívio, finalmente. Você se sentia cheinha, completa. Com o peito e barriga do garoto encostados nas suas costas, sentia o calor vindo do corpo grande atrás de você.

Pipe começou a te dar estocadas fundas, atingindo o lugar perfeito, que só ele conseguia. Enquanto o garoto te comia por trás, gemia no seu ouvido enquanto se declarava para você, de forma bagunçada e ofegante, atordoado de tanto prazer. “Tava morrendo de saudade de te comer, nena. Sonhando em encher essa buceta gostosa de porra”. Os gemidos e os barulhos do quadril dele batendo contra sua bunda preenchiam o apartamento, você sentia seu orgasmo se aproximando novamente e enfiava suas unhas nos bíceps do garoto que estavam ao lado do seu tronco, já que as mãos grande agarravam seus peitos que balançavam. Felipe afundou o rosto coradinho no seu pescoço, a fim de abafar os próprios gemidos e tentar se concentrar para ficar o máximo que pudesse dentro de você, mas ao respirar seu perfume, se perdeu por completo.

— Eu vou gozar, Pipe…

— Vai gozar de novo, é? Goza pra mim então, nena, eu tô quase também. — Ele não conteve um sorriso ao dizer a frase.

Seus gemidos eram tão altos que Felipe teve que tampar sua boca para não incomodar os vizinhos, além disso, não queria ninguém ouvindo a mulher dele gemer. As estocadas foram ficando mais desengonçadas, sentia ele apertando sua cintura com uma força que com certeza deixaria marcas. Escutava ele gemer no seu ouvido, e quando a única coisa que saia da boca dele passou a ser “Te amo, te amo, te amo…” juntamente de grunhidos, sabia que ele tinha te enchido todinha, gozou logo após você. A respiração dos dois era pesada e sincronizada, Pipe apoiava o rosto na sua nuca e mantinha os braços ao redor do seu torso, aliviado de finalmente te ter de novo. “Te amo, Pipe. Tava com saudade…” você disse, manhosa, enquanto se aconchegava no abraço do garoto.

Com o português quebrado e um sorriso encantadinho, porque sabia que tinha conquistado a garota de volta, ele respondeu: “Eu te amo mais, gatinha.”

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um bônus para as lobinhas: skin do pipe passeando com a leitora no museu e pela cidade com a câmerazinha dele pra gravar vídeos dela

#felipe otaño smut #felipe otaño x reader #felipe otaño #cwrites #lsdln x reader #lsdln cast #lsdln smut

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luvielie · 9 days

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eres mía, felipe otaño

pairing: felipe otaño x fem!reader summary: você tinha o noivo dos sonhos, o vestido perfeito e a data marcada. mas é claro que o seu ex-namorado precisava aparecer do nada para bagunçar toda a sua cabeça, de novo. warnings: SMUT!! cheating, era pra ser smut tapa na cara murro na costela mas acabou virando angst (sorry), remember com o ex, oneshot meio longa pq me empolguei, reader tchonga e pipe com 0 amor próprio pro plot fazer sentido, p in v, dirty talk, manhandling, (um tiquinho de) dry humping, fingering, degrading beeeem levinho, dsclp eu sou perturbada e precisava compartilhar isso com o mundo. note: tava ouvindo eres mía do romeo santos (muito boa, recomendo!!!!) e o pipe numa pegada ex magoadinho que ainda não aceitou direito o fim do namoro simplesmente DOMINOU minha mente. aí já viu, né? tive que largar o bom senso e tudo que tava fazendo pra escrever.

no te asombres si una noche entro a tu cuarto y nuevamente te hago mía bien conoces mis errores el egoísmo de ser dueño de tu vida

VOCÊ NÃO DEVERIA ter saído de casa naquela noite.

sinceramente, nem queria ter ido. o casamento seria amanhã e você estava uma pilha de nervos, pensando em tudo que poderia dar errado. apesar de ter uma cerimonialista e uma equipe inteira com mais de dez pessoas à sua disposição — que seu noivo, gentilmente, contratou para te ajudar —, intencionava passar a noite toda checando, novamente, todos os mínimos detalhes porque não confiava em mais ninguém além de si mesma para garantir que seu dia fosse o mais perfeito possível. isso, claro, até suas amigas invadirem sua casa, gritando e pulando igual crianças hiperativas, e te arrastarem para uma boate de quinta com a desculpa de que você tinha que sair para farrear com elas uma última vez antes de se entregar de corpo e alma para a vida de castidade do casamento.

e você, contrariando todas as suas ressalvas e o sexto sentido que implorava para que não fosse, acabou aceitando. era só uma despedida de solteira, afinal. usaria uma fantasia ridícula — um véu xexelento, um vestidinho branco curtíssimo que mais parecia ter saído de um catálogo da victoria’s secret e uma faixa rosa com “noiva do ano” escrito em letras douradas, garrafais —, beberia um pouco, dançaria até se acabar e aproveitaria uma última noite de extravasamento com as amigas de longa data. justamente o que precisava para desestressar um pouquinho antes do grande dia.

nada demais, certo?

seria se não tivesse o visto. de costas sob a luz neon e encoberto pela névoa fina de gelo seco, ele parecia ter saído diretamente de um sonho — ou um pesadelo, se preferir — e você quase se convenceu de que realmente estava presa em algum tipo de alucinação causada pelo combo estresse pré-cerimônia + álcool. até faria sentido no momento mais delicado da sua noite ver em um estranho qualquer a figura do ex que você, apesar de jurar o contrário, nunca conseguiu esquecer totalmente, numa pegadinha maldosa pregada por seu cérebro sacana, para tentar, aos quarenta e cinco do segundo tempo, te fazer duvidar das suas escolhas. entretanto, sabia que buscar se convencer daquilo seria, no mínimo, idiota e ilógico e você, além de não ser nem uma idiota, também era uma pessoa muito lógica.

não tinha álcool ou estresse no mundo que te fariam confundir aquela silhueta que conhecia mais do que a palma da própria mão. os ombros largos escondidos pela camiseta preta, que sempre foram sua obsessão secreta, os braços fortes que por tantas noites frias te aninharam, acalmaram e apertaram, servindo como um casulo para te proteger do mundo do lado de fora, e a cabeleira sedosa, significativamente mais longa desde a última vez que se viram, na qual amava afundar os dedos em afagos demorados, só para sentir a textura dos fios castanhos deslizando sobre a pele. era capaz de reconhecer felipe otaño — ou pipe, como costumava chamá-lo quando ainda compartilhavam alguma intimidade — até de olhos fechados.

sentiu o mundo girar e o estômago contrair, enjoado, pronto para expelir todo o conteúdo de repente indesejado. havia perdido milhares de noite de sono pensando em como seria o momento que se reencontrariam, como agiria e reagiria ao vê-lo novamente depois de tanto tempo, todavia, em todos os cenários que antecipou na sua cabeça sempre se imaginou fazendo algo muito mais maduro e racional do que simplesmente fugir covardemente igual uma gatinha apavorada.

“preciso ir”, avisou as amigas rapidamente, sequer dando tempo para que elas tentassem te convencer a ficar mais um pouco ou se oferecessem para ir junto, e literalmente saiu correndo, aos tropeços, da boate, desesperada para ficar o mais longe possível daquele fragmento do seu passado irresoluto.

já de volta ao apartamento, que em poucas horas deixaria de ser seu, não pôde evitar de pensar em tudo que no último ano tanto se esforçou para esquecer, hiperventilando com o turbilhão de sentimentos adormecidos que resolveram despertar todos de uma vez só. a essa altura, felipe deveria ser uma página virada da sua história, algo distante e incapaz de perturbar a paz supostamente inabalável que tanto lutou para estabelecer. não conseguia entender o que tinha de errado consigo. não era isso que você queria?! estava a um passo de alcançar a vida tranquila, monótona e rotineira que sempre sonhou e, ainda assim, seu coração se retorcia dentro do peito como se você estivesse prestes a tomar a pior decisão de todas.

a campainha tocou, de súbito, te afastando dos pensamentos indesejados. em uma noite normal, teria ficado com raiva da inconveniência de quem resolveu ser sem noção para vir incomodar tão tarde, porém, o alívio de ter a possibilidade de ocupar a mente com qualquer outra coisa que não fosse aquilo foi tão grande que até torceu para encontrar do outro lado da porta a senhorinha do apartamento trinta e dois, que adorava alugar seu ouvido por horas com as histórias intermináveis sobre a argentina dos anos setenta.

para a sua angústia, não era ela.

“você não excluiu o meu cadastro da portaria”, a voz arrastada arranhou seu cérebro cansado e precisou de quase um minuto inteiro para que os neurônios raciocinassem a imagem que seus olhos enxergavam. “por que, hein? tava esperando a minha visita, nenita?”.

o apelido escorrendo pelos lábios carnudos e rosados com tanto escárnio enviou um choque diretamente para a parte de trás da sua cabeça, que instantaneamente se converteu em uma pontada azucrinante de dor. perdeu o ar, sentindo-se minúscula ante a presença asfixiante, enorme, despreocupadamente encostada no batente da sua porta, e o ruído em seus ouvidos triplicou de altura.

“felipe, por que você tá aqui?”, conseguiu, finalmente, balbuciar uma pergunta.

ele sorriu abertamente, um pouco maldoso, bastante ferido, como se não acreditasse que você estava mesmo perguntando aquilo — até porque nem ele saberia responder.

felipe, também, não sabia o porquê de ter se dado o trabalho de ir até seu apartamento. ao ver um vislumbre do que pensou ser você, agiu no impulso, sem razão, e quando se deu conta estava na sua porta, tocando a campainha, tarde demais para dar meia-volta e desistir de sabe-se lá o quê. diria para si mesmo que só queria confirmar que realmente tinha te visto na boate, que não estava ficando louco, mas, no fundo, ele sabia que o que havia o levado para lá foi a descrença, alimentada pela esperança de ter se confundido e te encontrar de pijama, confusa de sono, sem um anel de compromisso reluzindo na canhota.

“ué, vim dar os parabéns para a…”, esticou a mão e tocou a tira de cetim que ainda pairava sobre seu peito, resvalando suavemente os dedos na pele desprotegida do decote escandaloso. “noiva do ano!”.

a vontade de vomitar te invadiu novamente. não tinha preparo para lidar com pipe, nunca teve. ele era inconstante, irregular, incontrolável… um furacão impossível de prever, logo, impossível de se preparar. passava truculento e imperdoável, bagunçando tudo que encontrava pelo caminho e principalmente você, que inevitavelmente acabava com a vida virada de cabeça para baixo, completamente desarranjada. sentiu no fundo da garganta o gosto amargo daquele sentimento de vulnerabilidade que te acompanhou durante todo o tempo que passaram juntos, como namorados, causado justamente pela agonia de não ter o controle da situação, de ter a existência nas mãos de outra pessoa, longe do seu alcance.

esse foi, aliás, o grande motivo para ter terminado com o otaño: a falta de controle. você, tão certinha e organizada, que desde criança gostava de planejar qualquer coisa minuciosamente, até as mais simples, porque ser pega de surpresa era enervante demais para você então tinha uma necessidade quase fisiológica de estar sempre a um passo à frente de tudo, mas que, no relacionamento de vocês, tinha justamente o contrário; com pipe, seus dias eram um constante passeio de montanha-russa, impremeditável: não importava o quanto se preparasse para a descida, toda vez ela acharia um jeito novo para te aturdir.

por isso, seu noivo era o homem perfeito para você. calmo, uniforme, corriqueiro, totalmente premeditável e incapaz de agir pelo impulso, o que oferecia a segurança de uma rotina sólida, sem imprevistos. isso deveria ter sido suficiente para você bater a porta na cara de felipe e deletá-lo completamente do seu sistema, porém, quando percebeu já tinha permitido que ele entrasse novamente dentro da sua casa, e consequentemente da sua vida, sem oferecer a menor resistência aos avanços das mãos grandes que buscavam, ávidas, tocar cada centímetro da sua pele gélida, te enclausurando entre aqueles braços fortes só para garantir que você não teria como fugir de novo.

“deixa eu te dar um presente de casamento”, pediu com aquele tom de voz baixo e servil, embebido de desejo, sabendo bem como só aquilo era suficiente para te deixar toda molinha, prontinha para ele. os olhos tremeram sobre as pálpebras e soltou um grunhido fraquinho, sentindo aquele calor conhecido envolver a sua pele arrepiada, fazendo seu sangue borbulhar dentro das veias.

“pipe, eu me caso em algumas horas…”, o restinho de consciência que existia em você suspirou contra o rosto dele, tão próximo, e nem sabia mais para quem exatamente estava dizendo aquilo: se era para ele ou para si mesma.

“mas agora você é minha. pela última vez.”

pipe sempre te beijava com a fome de mil homens, querendo consumir o máximo de você, como se a vida dele dependesse daquilo. os lábios fartos envolviam os seus com urgência, rápidos, vorazes, te dando tudo que tinha ao mesmo tempo que tirava tudo de você, numa troca contínua, e a língua quente e úmida invadia sua boca abruptamente, dominando a sua, ocupando cada espacinho da cavidade molhada. você nunca admitiria aquilo em voz alta, mas sentiu saudade de ser beijada de verdade, devorada por lábios sedentos e lascivos, capazes de demonstrar só com aquele simples ato o quanto te desejava. gemeu ruidosamente quando ele te apertou contra a parede fria da cozinha e pôde sentir cada músculo teso pesando sobre os seus, afundando-lhe no gesso claro. o homem avançou a perna um pouco para frente, invadindo com a coxa o espaço entre as suas, na intenção inicial de te dar algum tipo de apoio e garantir que você conseguiria se manter em pé durante todo o ato; porém, você, inebriada, mal percebeu os movimentos desesperados do próprio quadril, que se empurrava para frente e para trás, buscando qualquer tipo de fricção que aliviasse a tensão cruciante que já estava completamente instalada no baixo-ventre.

“mira eso… mal encostei em você e já tá se esfregando em mim igual uma perrita no cio”, caçoou, estalando a língua em uma falsa desaprovação para esconder o ego masculino amaciado. “que foi, nenita? não estão te comendo direito? ay, pobrecita…”

resmungou um palavrão baixinho, envergonhada, se contorcendo toda ao sentir ele erguer um pouquinho mais a perna e pressionar a intimidade sensível bem de levinho, só para te provocar e provar a própria teoria. e, para pontuar ainda mais a provocação, o homem deslizou a mão esquerda para o núcleo incandescente e pressionou a palma contra intimidade dolorida, sentindo toda a umidade que já escorria abundante pelas dobrinhas delicadas, encharcando a calcinha branca de algodão. balançou a cabeça para os lados, produzindo um tsc, tsc, tsc baixinho, fingindo estar decepcionado, todavia incapaz de disfarçar o sorriso vaidoso que se pintou na face extasiada ao constatar que, mesmo após tantos meses, você ainda reagia tão bem aos toques dele e que, pelo jeitinho entregue — o mesmo que ficava quando passavam um tempinho mais longo sem sexo, o que era raro na relação de vocês, mas vez ou outra acontecia —, nenhum outro foi capaz de te proporcionar o mesmo que ele.

arrastou a pontinha dos dedos pela carne coberta, alcançando o pontinho de nervos e o circulou com suavidade, os olhos vidrados na sua expressão sofrida e deleitosa, a boquinha entreaberta permitindo que os suspiros sôfregos deslizassem dengosos pela sua língua. ele afastou o tecido branco para o lado, soltando um gemido deliciado ao ter o veludo avermelhado derretendo-se diretamente sobre os dígitos calejados, a entradinha negligenciada apertando-se ao redor de nada. “pipe…”, o chamou em súplica, fincando as unhas nos ombros largos sob o tecido da camiseta preta, ensandecida com o tesão que queimava sob sua pele.

felipe aproveitou a mão livre para segurar seu pescoço delicadamente, acariciando a extensão macia e buscando entalhar na memória, novamente, todos os detalhezinhos que ele já conhecia tão bem e que, depois daquela noite, não veria mais. os pares de olhos, amantes de uma vida passada, enlaçaram-se e pipe se dissolveu em emoções indesejadas, desnecessárias, que fizeram a boca trabalhar mais rápido que o cérebro: “você não tem ideia de como eu senti falta dessa carinha que você faz quando tá assim, toda desesperada, doidinha pelo meu pau”, confessou sentimental, mas se arrependeu logo em seguida. não queria, nem deveria, falar de sentimentos e do passado, tampouco sobre como você o destruiu quando foi embora sem explicação e como o destruiu, mais uma vez, quando reapareceu vestida daquele jeito, esfregando na cara dele a felicidade de estar se casando com outro homem.

então, empurrou aqueles pensamentos para o fundo da mente, de onde nunca deveriam ter saído, e deixou que os dedos fossem engolidos pelo buraquinho necessitado, junto com o ressentimento, torcendo para que seus fluídos lavassem o sentimento amargo do sistema dele.

lentamente, ele movimentou os dígitos largos para dentro e para fora, curvando-os para atingir o pontinho mais doce dentro de você, o polegar subindo para estimular o clitóris inchadinho. você revirou os olhos, e tinha certeza que os vizinhos já conseguiam ouvir seus lamentos exasperados, repetindo o nome de felipe como uma prece sofrida, pedindo por mais e mais, tão carente por toques mais expressivos que te libertassem da agonia insuportável que maltratava o baixo-ventre. o homem conhecia todos seus pontos mais fracos e sabia exatamente como usá-los para, com o mínimo contato possível, te quebrar inteira e te deixar assim, inconsistente, enlouquecida, implorando por ele em uma insanidade avassaladora, assustadora, desconhecida até mesmo para si. ele te desmontava e remontava a bel-prazer, transformando-lhe no que quisesse, como se você fosse a bonequinha favorita dele.

“você vai pensar em mim amanhã, na sua noite de núpcias”, prometeu ao pé do seu ouvido, deixando uma mordida suave na derme sensível da lateral do seu pescoço. “quando ele te tocar, quando te beijar… você só vai conseguir pensar em como ele nunca vai ser capaz de te dar metade do que eu te dou”.

pipe te deixou por um segundo para se desfazer da calça e da sua calcinha, ouvindo seu chorinho magoado, mas não demorou em arrastar as mãos para sua bunda, apertando a carne macia com força antes de te alçar e carregar seu corpo trêmulo até a estrutura de madeira presente no centro do cômodo. te foderia primeiro ali, sobre a mesa da cozinha que conhecia tão bem o íntimo de vocês, mas já planejava depois te levar para o quarto, para a cama que tantas vezes compartilharam, onde afundaria o rosto em sua buceta sensibilizada e faria questão de limpar cada gota do prazer que estavam prestes a compartilhar, do jeitinho despudorado que ele sabia você amava, apesar de fingir que não. naquela noite, ele queria muito mais que gravar sua pele: queria se gravar na sua alma, garantir que cada nervo do seu corpo lembrasse dele por toda a eternidade, para que você, assim como ele, fosse condenada a pensar todo santo dia pelo resto da sua vida no que abriu mão.

esfregou a cabecinha dolorida do pau nos lábios encharcados, embebedando-se com a sua essência, misturando-a a dele, e você gemeu audivelmente em resposta, ansiosa, arqueando-se para ficar o mais perto possível de pipe, numa vontade louca de fundir os dois corpos em um só. o argentino franziu o cenho, um misto de mágoa e tesão o atingindo como um soco na boca do estômago. não conseguia não devanear com uma circunstância diferente, em que o vestido branco embolado na cintura seria um de noiva de verdade e o anel brilhando no seu dedo seria uma aliança dourada com o nome dele gravado na parte interna.

você seria a mais bela das noivas, disso ele tinha certeza.

incapaz de conter o sentimentalismo, se viu entrelaçando os dedos aos seus, puxando-os de encontro a face e depositando um beijo delicado no diamante solitário, assim como faria se a ilusão fosse verdadeira, antes de empurrar o membro endurecido profundamente dentro de você, sentindo suas paredes o apertando numa pressão semelhante a que fazia o coração dele, estilhaçado, dentro do peito.

aquela era a terceira destruição que você causava na vida de pipe, entretanto, dessa vez, ele iria garantir que fosse a última.

quando o sol chegasse ao ponto mais alto do céu, você estaria caminhando pela igreja decorada para jurar amor eterno ao homem que era perfeito para o que havia planejado para a vida, mas naquele momento, com o véu noturno os escondendo, toda sua existência pertencia unicamente ao homem imperfeito, de quem seu coração jamais seria capaz de se recuperar.

si tú te casas, el día de tu boda le digo a tu esposo con risas que solo es prestada la mujer que ama porque sigues siendo mía

#𓄹新🚚©ꓽluvielie𓈒♡#felipe otaño #felipe otaño x reader #lsdln cast #lsdln smut #felipe otaño smut #la sociedad de la nieve #society of the snow #a sociedade da neve

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hyunjungjae · 6 months

Text

— Spidermark, mensal para garotas🕸️🕷️

avisos: spidermark😐, bffs to fwb to lovers, mark x fem!reader, mark!perv, mark!paulista (foi mais forte que eu), uso do apelido gata/boneca, sexo sem proteção (coisa que n se deve fazer☝🏻), meio fluff com um smut no meio. não sei se esqueci de algo, mas vai assim msm

a/n: primeira vez escrevendo mais história do que smut, espero que a leitura não tenha ficado chata, espero tb q vcs gostem e se divirtam lendo! as fotos dou os créditos pro pinterest pq peguei lá

Ao mesmo tempo que Mark poderia ser muito cuidadoso, ele conseguia ser muito descuidado e atrapalhado, principalmente perto de ti.

Por um pequeno deslize, você rapidamente descobriu que o tal de ‘Homem-Aranha’/‘O Aranha que cuida da vizinhança’ entre outros apelidos, não era ninguém mais, ninguém menos que seu melhor amigo, Mark Lee.

Consegue se lembrar ainda dele quase ao teus pés te implorando pra não contar pra ninguém...

Sentada na cama de Mark estava lendo uma história em quadrinhos, esperando ele chegar logo em casa do estágio do Stark, ou sei lá como ele chamava, quando se sentiu entediada, resolveu ligar a luz do quarto dele e dar uma olhadinha, mesmo que já conhecesse ali.

Olha toda a escrivaninha do garoto, até mesmo abre o guarda-roupa para pegar alguma roupa que ache bonita, mas ao invés disso encontra algo um pouco peculiar…uma máscara do homem-aranha? Com toda certeza, não era o que esperava.

Poderia ser uma fantasia? Poderia, mas por que parecia tão real? O tecido era mais reforçado, a textura era diferente de todas as outras que já viu em lojas...Mark Lee...o que anda escondendo da sua melhor amiga?

Mark chega em casa, vai para o quarto te vê ali, mas não enxergando o que você tem em mãos, joga a mochila meio aberta no chão, te avisa que vai tomar um banho, pega as roupas penduradas atrás da porta e sai.

Ao voltar, te vê com o traje dele em mãos, apenas avaliando, paralisa na mesma hora, fechando a porta atrás de si. "Achei isso aqui na tua mochila...Mark, você tá querendo me falar alguma coisa...?"

"Ermmmm...' coça a nuca, "Eu...eu...tá merda, não vou mentir porque você vai saber que eu estou mentindo, mas eu sou esse cara aí."

"SÉRIO?" animada, grita. Mark se aproxima, tampa tua boca. Chegando perto demais, a outra mão coloca o dedo sobre a própria boca, pedindo para você ficar calada. "Tia Lee não sabe, nem niguém, absolutamente ninguém, só você, então pelo amor de deus, não conta pra ninguém."

Desde então guarda esse segredo dele, mas o que era apenas uma quedinha pelo melhor amigo, virou um penhasco ao ver ele na roupa sem a máscara, amava principalmente as vezes que ia para casa dele, apenas para chegar antes dele, e flagra-lo sem camiseta apenas com um calção ao tirar a roupa de herói.

Mal poderia imaginar que seus sentimentos eram sim correspondidos.

Mark era um completo pervertido quando se tratava de você, de cima do prédio logo a frente do seu, ele via que a luz do banheiro de seu quarto acaba de ser desligada, não demorando muito para você aparecer na janela de seu quarto, com a cortina aberta, você de lingerie checando algumas mensagens no celular. Morava num apartamento mais alto, então não precisava se preocupar com vizinhos abusados espiando sua janela. Além do prédio da frente do teu, ser um prédio comercial, então aquela hora da noite, ninguém mais estaria ali. Mas se por acaso o pervertido que estivesse te observando fosse Mark Lee, você não se importaria…

Quando veste uma camiseta larga que cobria a maior parte do seu corpo, Mark resolve ir até sua janela.

Vai até lá, bate duas vezes o próprio dedo no vidro, chamando sua atenção. Não tardando, corre para abrir.

“Mark? O que faz aqui essa hora?”

“Tava resolvendo umas coisas…aqui perto…resolvi passar pra dar um ‘oi’ ” tira a máscara e você sente teu coração palpitar.

Olhava teu quarto com bichinhos de pelúcia em cima de sua cama, pôsters do seu grupo favorito de K-pop espalhados pela parede, fotos suas de quando era criança, com seus pais, uma foto com Mark e até mesmo uma foto com…o Homem-Aranha.

“Emoldurou essa foto?” pega o quadro em mãos, sorrindo ao ver os dois ali. “Claro, uma foto com um herói, não é todo dia que isso acontece…quer dizer, no meu caso é todo dia sim…” solta uma risada, ouvindo o garoto te acompanhar.

“ ‘Cê, num tem o que fazer não?” pergunta como uma brincadeira, “Cidade toda tá dormindo, gata, nada de movimento esse horário, então quero só descansar…” deixa o quadrinho no lugar onde estava e deita no seu tapete felpudo, sabendo que odeia quando ele deita na tua cama com o uniforme ‘sujo da rua’. Te vendo desse ângulo mais abaixo, conseguia ver por baixo da tua camiseta, tua calcinha com alguns detalhezinhos um lacinho e merda, tua bunda engolia o pano, conseguia sentir o pau dar as caras só tendo essa visão tua. Desvia o olhar antes que você percebesse.

Já você se odiava tanto por sentir o coração palpitar com esses apelidinhos que Mark usava contigo, cara, você queria apenas poder calar a boca dele com um beijo para que ele parasse de fazer teu coração palpitar dessa forma.

“Mark, a tia Lee vai ficar preocupada se você ficar tempo demais aqui…” queria expulsar ele, antes que fizesse qualquer merda.

Definição de ‘fazer merda’ para você nesse exato momento: Contar para Mark Lee dos sentimentos que você guarda a décadas e sem querer querendo, acabar com a boca grudada na dele.

“Relaxa, ela tá numa viagem num cruzeiro…falou que vai ficar uns 20 dias lá, então você vai ter que me aguentar por bastante tempo!” fecha os olhos ao dizer isso, enquanto tua cabeça entra em parafuso, VINTE DIAS, VINTE, se perguntava apenas como iria aguentar tanto tempo com Mark aparecendo na tua janela por 20 dias seguidos.

[…]

Uma aula extremamente chata, era o maior motivo do teu sono agora. Poderia dormir a qualquer momento, iria matar teu melhor amigo que te fez ficar acordada até tarde da noite, apenas para te dizer o quão cansativo havia sido o treinamento que Tony Stark o passou ontem.

"Dorme não, lindona!" tua amiga ao teu lado fala baixo e estala o dedo para te acordar. Você abre os olhos, coça-os se acostumando com a luz "Desculpa, amiga, tive 3 horas de sono só porque fiquei ouvindo..." antes de citar Mark, você para, finge ter errado para se corrigir "ouvindo, não, fiquei pesquisando pro trabalho que tem pra entregar essa semana" boceja, sabia que se ela descobrisse, iriam ter uma loooonga conversa sobre pontos do porquê ela acha que Mark Lee também gosta de você.

"Hm, e por acaso essa pesquisa teria nome sobrenome, e por acaso também o nome e sobrenome seriam 'Mark' e 'Lee'?"

"Para de falar besteira, mulher...eu-...eu" gagueja, "...só 'tava pesquisando."

"Se gaguejou, é porque eu 'tô certa." diz convencida.

[…]

“Cara, isso é muito errado, PARA COM ISSO MARK!” o garoto gritava para si próprio, novamente em cima do prédio na frente do teu.

Agora estava em uma discussão interna, pois dentro de teu quarto, estava escuro, apenas a tela do teu celular ligada, ele foi até sua janela, mas quando chegou perto ouviu gemidos.

Sim, isso mesmo, gemidos teus. E bem, agora cá estava ele, de pau duro, seus gemidos sendo a única coisa que o garoto conseguia ouvir na própria cabeça. Não queria te atrapalhar, mas também era inevitável não querer ver tua carinha de tesão.

Você estava quase chegando em seu êxtase, os dedinhos faziam você gemer apenas mais alto, teus pais haviam saído e o único que talvez te atrapalhasse num momento como esse, seria Mark, mas ele estava ocupado demais, nem as suas mensagens ele havia respondido.

Pois é, parece que o destino realmente não quer te ajudar.

Naquela noite, Mark bateu na tua janela, você envergonhada, abriu mesmo assim, seu rostinho vermelho, a respiração ofegante e uma carinha de quem tava fazendo algo.

Antes mesmo de dizer ‘oi’, foi ao banheiro lavar a mão e pela cara do garoto você sabia que ele havia ouvido. Nunca foi muito bom em esconder coisas de você, como você também não era boa em esconder coisas dele.

O garoto em teu quarto viu que os bichinhos de pelúcia estavam todos virados para a parede e alguns até guardados, riu já que sabia que aquilo era para os bichinhos não verem coisas inapropriadas.

Quando volta, vê Mark tirar a máscara, mexer no cabelo, fechar os olhos, suspirando e jogando a cabeça para trás, não precisava nem dizer o quão cansado estava, dava pra ver que ele estava muito.

“_____, onde ‘cê guardou as roupas que eu trouxe no outro dia?” ele queria dormir aqui. Devia ter cansado de dormir sozinho no próprio apartamento que dividia com a tia.

“Tão ali na segunda gaveta do guarda-roupa. Tem uma toalha extra no armário embaixo da pia, a escova de dentes que você usou da última vez ainda tá no copinho e acho que é só isso que precisa…pode tomar um banho aí, vou tomar banho no banheiro do corredor.” ele te olha nos olhos.

“Obrigado…” sorri minimamente e os olhos fechando de tão cansado. “Meio que minha teia acabou no caminho pra casa, então não tive outra opção…”

“Afffff” revira os olhos fingindo estar irritada, “Ixi ‘cê tá sendo mó jão agora…palhaça, até parece que eu sou um incômodo…” (tá sendo mó jão = tá sendo mó chatão ;meio que uns estraga clima, saca?;)

Ao você sair do banho, Mark já estava deitado na tua cama, mexia no celular. Nem tinha cara do garoto que te atrapalhou num horário sagrado.

“Vou dormir no sofá”, estava indo em direção para pegar as coisas, quando sente Mark colar atrás de ti, “Sabe…já que…mais cedo, eu sem querer te atrapalhei…agora eu poderia te dar uma ajudinha…né?”

Você gela. Não sabe o que responder, apenas sente as mãos do garoto em tua cintura, te puxa para cama. “Vem cá, vem” se senta na cama, as mãos fazendo um gesto para que você sentasse no colo dele, e você vai. Sem nem pensar, apenas vai.

Uma perna de cada lado do corpo dele, as duas mãos na tua cintura, te puxando para perto, fazendo os dois sentirem a intimidade um do outro, você pende a cabeça pra um lado, e beija Mark.

Oh céus, teu sonho sendo mais que realizado. Um selinho calmo, dá espaço para um beijo com língua bem calmo, mais como se um estivesse querendo provocar o outro. Uma mão do garoto desce para tua bunda que estava descoberta já que tinha o costume de dormir apenas de lingerie e camiseta, a outra mão vai até teu rosto, faz um carinho leve, logo indo para tua nuca, onde da uma pequena apertada, na mesma hora que aperta tua bunda.

Você rebola sobre o short de tactel do garoto que agora sentia marcar. As duas mãos vão até tua bunda, o beijo acelera mais um pouco, junto as respiraç��es.

Separam o beijo para respirar, nisso o Mark se joga para trás, apoia o tronco nos cotovelos, a cabeça é jogada para trás, merda ele queria tanto estar dentro de você.

Suas mãos se espalmam no peitoral do Lee, o que te dá um apoio para que continuasse. “Gata, você não prefere fazer isso…sem a roupa…?” pergunta com a respiração pesada.

“Sim, sim, sim…por favor…” se levanta para tirar sua calcinha, volta para cima dele, deixando com que ele tirasse sua camiseta e desfizesse o fecho em teu sutiã. Agora era você quem puxava a camiseta do garoto para cima, e se levantava um pouco apenas para poder tirar o short tactel e a roupa íntima dele.

Mark traça um caminho de beijos desde o meio de seus peitos até teu umbigo. Tuas mãos fazem um carinho gostoso no cabelo dele, sorrindo boba por ter aquela visão. O sorrisinho se desfaz quando pela cintura ele te puxa um pouco para baixo, só para que a pontinha do pau encostasse na tua entradinha apertada. Agora mordia o próprio lábio, tentando conter um gemidinho.

Uma mão do garoto vai até o próprio pau, a boca dele vai até teu peito, pronto para molha-lo. A massagem no teu seio é tão boa que esquece sobre o desconforto que sentia ao ter o pau te alargando todinha.

“Hmmm, Mark…” geme o nome do garoto. “Que foi? Hm? Gosta da sensação do meu pau te deixando larguinha?” olha nos teus olhos, os olhinhos brilhando, você realmente amava ele.

Sente suas coxas baterem nas dele, geme em satisfação por estar tão cheinha, por ser teu melhor amigo que está enchendo teu vazio. Empurra o garoto para apoiar o tronco novamente nos cotovelos, mais uma vez espalmando tuas mãos no peitoral dele, fazendo um movimento de vai e vem gostoso.

Mark geme ao ver que o pau está fundo, até o último átomo dentro de ti.

Até que um barulho de chaves trava os dois, teus pais haviam chegado. “Filha, chegamos!” merda, não dava para responder, justo agora.

“Oi mãe…tá…” a responde com poucas palavras, mas entra em pânico quando vê que a porta está destrancada, por isso para os movimentos e sussurra “Mark, a porta” os dois arregalam os olhos, “Vai mais rápido, vamo’ acabar rapidinho pra avisar eles que eu vou dormir aqui hoje.” o dispositivo de soltar teia estava logo do lado dos dois, então Mark pega e apenas solta uma teia na fechadura da porta.

Você agiliza o vai e vem em cima dele, fazendo ele levantar apenas para segurar tua bunda, te dando uma forcinha. Sua cabeça encosta no ombro do garoto, “Mark…Ma-…Mark…” chama o nome dele repetidas vezes e logo tuas pernas tremiam e faziam força para fechar, não demorando muito, os gemidos do Mark em teu ouvido ficam um pouco mais altos, e sente o líquido do garoto escorrer por tua buceta.

Sua cabeça se levanta, os olhos se encontram e não deixam de esconder os sorrisinhos bobos. O Lee sobe apenas para roubar um selinho, mas você beija-o novamente. Você tira-o de dentro de você, e deita na cama. A hora que Mark percebe que gozou dentro, ele olha para você, já sabendo o que ele pensava, você diz “Não se preocupa to na pílula.” ele suspira aliviado.

Sua mãe bate na porta, “_____? Você quer comer? Comprei pizza pra gente!” olha pra fechadura da porta com a teia.

“Mark, demora quanto tempo pra teia derreter?” pergunta baixinho.

“Umas duas horas…” responde baixinho também.

Os dois botam a mão na cabeça, dois atrapalhados que agem no desespero, “Mãe, o Mark tá aqui, a fechadura da porta tá com um probleminha, então vai demorar um pouco pra gente ir comer…” só umas duas horas mãe, tenha paciência por favor…

E com toda certeza, aquela noite foi a primeira de muitas.

[…]

“Mano, cê já viu aquela trend, que é tipo, com a música do Jay-Z mas é o Tyler cantando, aquela parte ‘What’s the point of being rich, when you wake up alone’ e aí tem o cara deitado entre as coxa da mina?” (clica na letra da música, quem nunca viu essa trend)

Você olha para Mark, sabia que trend era essa, mas onde ele queria chegar com isso? “Sei, que que tem ela?” olha com uma cara desconfiada, “Bem que a gente podia fazer, né? Tipo…só pra deixar no rascunho pelo menos…”

Você aceita, por isso agora deixava uma iluminação mais baixa no quarto, deixando que a televisão que passava algum filme aleatório fosse o que mais iluminava, enquanto o Lee pegava o celular que estava carregando, indo direto pra cama, te encontrando de pernas abertas.

Te olha e não faz questão de conter o sorrisinho que aparece nos próprios lábios. Engatinha na cama, quando chega até você, se deita no meio de suas pernas, tampando a parte do teu corpo que pertencia a ele, e apenas a ele.

Ouve a música começar a tocar, e você descansa suas mãos no rosto dele, faz um carinho leve, enquanto ele grava e posiciona uma mão em sua coxa, apertando-a.

Salva nos rascunhos e continua deitado ali, “Pronto, agora pode sair” disse dando dois toques na cabeça de Mark. “Eu não…vou continuar aqui, ‘cê tá louco, mó confortável…” se ajeita para ver o filme, você sorri e apenas deixa.

Em alguma parte do filme, o Lee olha para cima, vê que você está quase dormindo, por isso levanta o tronco apenas para poder subir um pouco e ajeitar a própria cabeça nos seus peitos e dormir ali, por cima de ti, entre suas pernas, no travesseiro preferido dele. Isso sim era uma avida boa.

Acordou pela manhã esperando que Mark ainda estivesse ali, agarrado contigo dormindo, mas infelizmente não estava mais, foi até a cozinha e viu que a mesa estava posta, um pão e ovo mexido num prato, toddy na xícara e um bilhete ao lado, que dizia:

‘desculpa ter saído mais cedo…sabe como é né…aproveita seu café da manhã, feito pelo seu herói preferido!

ps: me perdoa a bagunça que eu sem querer fiz na cozinha…te amo boneca, bj, deixa a janela aberta de noite!!’

Olha para a cozinha e estava realmente uma bagunça, sem que percebesse, sorri boba, sim Mark você conquistou o coração da sua garota, se era isso que queria, parabéns! (como se já não tivesse conquistado, muito antes de ter feito qualquer coisa🙄)

[…]

Você e Mark se tratavam como namorados, as vezes no meio da madrugada, ele te pegava em teu quarto, falava pra você se agarrar nele para darem um passeio, e buscarem um lanche num fast food.

Iam no cinema de mãos dadas, prestavam atenção em 35% do filme porque os outros 65% se beijavam.

Isso quando o garoto tinha algum tempo livre, porque vire e mexe ele tinha treinamentos que o Tony Stark preparava pra ele e quando tinha, ele ia para a própria casa tomar um banho, mas logo em seguida ia para a sua, apenas para deitar na tua coxa, receber um carinho, uma boa máscara de skincare e contar do primeiro até o último detalhe sobre como ele estava fascinado que estava quase entrando para os Vingadores.

“Não…mas aí o Stark me botou pra correr pra caralho, ‘cê não tá ligada, aí do nada boom o capitão américa aparece pra me confrontar.” estrala o dedo para dar intensidade ao dizer “MAS A MELHOR PARTE FOI A PARTE QUE EU ROUBEI O ESCUDO DELE, olha que eu ainda dei um trabalhinho pra ele recuperar, viu?”

“Que orgulho do meu homem-aranha treinando com os vingadores!” beija o lábio do garoto com cuidado, já que estavam com a máscara no rosto. Sorri bobo e até mesmo se esquece sobre o que falava.

Assim vocês levavam a relação e amavam como se entendiam.

[…]

Se perguntou diversas vezes no dia de hoje sobre como será que Mark Lee te pediria em namoro. Não chegaram a conversar sobre levar pra frente o que tinham, mas os dois demonstravam interesse demais para apenas ‘amigos com benefícios’.

Sabia que o garoto era difícil para levar as coisas pra frente, Mark sendo tímido do jeito que era, esse pedido não iria sair nunca.

Mas se surpreende, quando numa tarde, em teu quarto, Mark te ajudava em teu projeto de ponte para a faculdade de arquitetura, apenas se perguntava, ‘por que deus deixou que eu ficasse responsável por esse trabalho?’

“Parça, o que ‘cê pensa sobre namoro?” você pergunta, tomando coragem.

“Muito sentimental da tua parte começar uma conversa que pode mudar nosso futuro com ‘parça’ ” ri te fazendo rir junto.

“Dá um dez véi’, eu só não sei como começar essa conversa…” (dá um dez = dá um tempo) se explica.

“Cara, eu acho que a gente pode pular essa discussão toda pra um…cê tá afim de tentar algo mais sério comigo?” olha nos teus olhos.

“Isso foi a pergunta real, ou eu to, sei lá, sonhando?”

“Foi a pergunta real, boba”

“TO MUITO AFIM, MARK LEE.” pula em cima do garoto, fazendo os dois caírem no chão, em cima do tapete felpudo do teu quarto, com Mark te abraçando pela cintura

“Mas aí, pode ir tirando todos esses pôsteres dos seus ultimate bias sei lá o que desses carinha de Kpop, não curto esses bagulho da minha mina babando em pôster de outro cara não, principalmente desse tal de Jaehyun.” aponta para o que estava em frente de sua escrivaninha, o maior que havia em seu quarto.

“ ‘Cê é louco, mó jet” (mó jet = mó preguiça), “Sabe que eu só tenho olhos pra você, meu lindo, meu mundo, meu tudo, meu amor.” enche o rostinho lindo dele de beijinhos.

“Agora ‘cê tá sendo moleca, me manipulando com beijinhos e apelidos”

“Pro-ble-ma teu” separa a palavra por sílabas, mas logo volta a beijar o rostinho de Mark, fazendo-o esquecer sobre o que reclamava.

Mais tarde quando vai olhar o instagram, vê que Mark tinha postado um storie normal, uma foto contigo, e um nos ‘Close friends’, ali era o video da trend que gravaram outro dia, com uma legenda em inglês “Finally ma’ girl”. (trad: finalmente minha garota)

Já você opta por apenas um storie sem ser nos ‘CF’ algo mais fofo, escolhendo umas três fotos dos dois, copiando a legenda do garoto “Finally ma’ boy” (trad: finalmente meu garoto)

oq vcs acharo, mi digam ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

#spidermark #mark nct #mark lee #mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 #nct dream scenarios

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badgrrlscoven · 1 year

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Hi! I saw your requests were open! Could you write a Hunter x Fem! Reader one-shot where the reader has a overprotective palisman who’s just a lil shit and actively tries to sabotage them getting together?

(You can keep reader’s palisman ambiguous in species but I had a capybara palisman in mind for the reader)

Protective Palisman - hunter x fem!reader

summary: you started to reminisce on the “good” times between hunter and your palisman

words: 912

warnings: nothing besides Palisman being a shit 😭

a/n: sorry this is a bit late! i had a lot of work I needed to catch up on, but i hope this is good and meets what you were hoping for. i had a really fun time writing this and i fell in love with the Palisman 😭🫶🏻

You looked down at Hunter, a small smile etching its way into your face noticing how your palisman cuddled into him. It was nice to finally see the capybara palisman finally accepting of you and Hunter’s relationship. He had been, to put it simply, a little shit when you two first started ‘going out’. If that’s what you could call the endeavors between you two. You start to reminisce about the first time Oz had ever met Hunter, well at this point it had been Caleb.

“Oz, come back here!” The palisman had currently been scampering through the crowd of students, holding a fairy pie in his mouth. The same fairy pie that he had stolen from the baking club's booth, again. He really was a little shit at all times.

You had finally gotten your eyes on him again as he was passing by Willow’s booth. “Oz you little shit!” Willow turned to look at the fleeing palisman and your running figure behind her with wide eyes. She laughed a little before picking Oz up from the ground. The sudden stopping of the palisman had you trying to stop, but it had already been a couple of beats too late as you were hurdling toward the ground. Oz started to make a weird noise from the safety of Willow’s arms that you could only assume was his way of laughing at you.

You looked up at him and he had already been munching on away on the fairy pie. Your face fell. Great, now you owed the bakery club a new pie. You were probably just going to get Amity to make a new one. You stood from the ground, brushing the dust from your uniform and wiping away at your face. The minute your eyes fell on the palisman held in Willow’s arms, your features twisted into a scowl.

“You okay Y/n?” Willow asked. She handed you Oz, a little reluctantly because of the state of your anger.

“Yeah, great. I just owe the bakery club a new pie now.” You sighed. You held Oz in your arms as you looked at the booth Willow had set up. It had been all about flyer derby, which you had thought was really cool that she had gotten into it after playing Grudgy with Luz and Gus. But looking around the booth, you noticed the Golden Guard standing there. Just as you were about to get your staff ready, you noticed him motioning for you to stay quiet. You narrowed your eyes, but quickly smirked and decided to use this moment to your advantage.

“I see you have your first recruit for Flyer Derby, Willow.” Hunter’s eyes widened, he opened his mouth to mostly likely negate what you had said but you gave him a look that made him close his mouth.

“Really? Oh, that’s awesome! Maybe with his wicked flying skills and your sick magic combos, we can actually win!” Willow jumped around the ground and went off to probably go find some more recruits. You looked over at Hunter who was currently occupied with a somewhat feral Oz backing him into the other booths.

“Oz!” You picked up your palisman (who was still not relenting in trying to scare Hunter) and looked at Hunter. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here or why you're scared of a capybara of all animals but don’t screw this up for Willow. She’s an amazing person and deserves this win.” You went to turn around but felt a hand around your wrist. Hunter stood there looking at you, earnest in his eyes. “I wouldn’t…purposely try to ruin things.” Pink had tinted his whole face at the contact between your hands. You smiled at the flushed boy and put your hand into his which caused his eyes to widen.

“Good,” you commented. This was when Oz decided to jump from your hold and ravage whatever sanity Hunter had left. The palisman took the hood of Hunter’s borrowed cowl and covered his entire face with it and then took his tiny paws and tried to hit the top of the boy’s head.

“Oz!”

You laughed at remembering your palisman’s antics. He may cause you a lot of trouble from time to time, but you loved him nonetheless and knew he only wanted the best for you.

You started to feel movement in your lap and looked down at Hunter opening his eyes after some much needed rest.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” You smiled at him. He groaned and proceeded to stretch his limbs before looking at you with a tired smile. “What were you laughing about?” He questioned.

“Oh you know, just the first time you and Oz practically ever met.” The words caused Hunter to deflate and purse his lips.

“I still have marks from the time he wouldn't stop biting my ankles.” You laughed while ruffling Hunter’s hair.

“To be fair to Oz, you were trying to kidnap my friends and I.” At the mention of the palisman’s name, Oz woke up from his nap and looked between you and Hunter with a squeak. Sometimes he was too smart for his own good.

“Still,” Hunter grumbled to himself. It was that moment Oz decided to relive some good memories by terrorizing Hunter once again by tugging at the edges of his hair.

You continued to cackle at your palisman while Hunter ran off trying to pry his hair free, Flapjack flying behind the disgruntled boy.

#toh x reader #the owl house x reader #owl house x reader #golden guard #golden guard x reader #toh hunter #hunter toh #toh hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x reader toh #x reader #imagine #fluff

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markiefiles · 1 month

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EU PRECISO DE ALGUM MONSTER!AU COM O JAEMIN PLMDSSSSSSSSSSSSS

— OFFERING’

fem reader x na jaemin

avisos: god kink, size kink (gritante), jaemin big!dick, monster fuck, idades não especificadas porém ambos têm idades milenares.

notas: decidi escolher os pedidos aleatoriamente ao invés de fazer eles na sequência, seria muito mais interessante, esse aqui me chamou bastante a atenção, porque já estava pensando em soltar algo assim. esse plot é “reciclado” de um outro que tinha feito com estátuas gigantes que eram mágicas ☝️ espero que gostem (agradeço também por ter feito pedido comigo💗espero que gostem.

Você andava pelo castelo, os pés nus tocando o mármore Ônix sujo de areia, carregava numa cumbuca feita de mato ressecado pedaços do carvalho e plantas curandeiras.

Pediria mais uma vez aos gigantes, aos Deuses, prosperidade e paz na terra, fartura no solo e mesa. A lua iluminava teu caminho, você subia pelas escadas redondas até chegar ao pico mais alto do castelo, a pedra refletia a luz flamejante das lamparinas, no teu peito um sentimento de esperança.

Uma das estátuas já havia sido despertada, assim como dito nos livros, a última que faltava era de Na Jaemin, gesso branco pintado em detalhes dourados. Você a observou, seus olhos verificaram dos tendões bem esculpidos até os dedos apoiados nas coxas. Jaemin era lindo, mesmo que não estivesse desperto, ele era maravilhosamente belo.

Você ajeitou seu vestido de seda, branco, ajoelhou-se no chão e preparou o carvalho, no fogo da lamparina. As cinzas foram despejadas no chão ao redor da estátua, bela; a planta curandeira foi colocada atrás de sua orelha, você iniciou um canto, fechou os olhos e beijou os pés de Jaemin, obcecada. Era como se uma força tomasse conta do teu ventre, do teu peito, um pó amarelado que te envolvia. Cultuar e amar os Deuses era teu trabalho, teu mais sério estudo.

Então, um estrondo se fez presente, o vento quente raspou contra sua pele e você abriu os lábios pretensiosa, o nó do seu vestido se desfez, seu colo agora exposto, erótico. Sua pele se chocou contra a estátua, os dedos amolecidos pela pele te despertaram, você olhou para cima, sentiu a boca salivar, o tamanho anormal de Jaemin te hipnotizando e consumindo seus pensamentos. Ele era enorme, braços grandes e pernas compridas, olhos afiados e atentos a sua figura.

— Feiticeira. — Ele disse, a voz reverberando pelas paredes milenares de barro e pedras.

— Não, Deus… Apenas pedindo coisas boas para esta terra, aqui meu povo habita.

— Você me despertou, mulher.

Ele tocou seus fios, os dedos dele eram enormes, ásperos, ele suspirou alto sentindo a textura macia do teu fio. Você queria insistir na pergunta “Qual sua altura?” mas ele não responderia.

— Você… pode mudar de forma?

— Não.

— Você não é um Deus? — Sua pergunta o irritou.

— O que você quer realmente?

— Você é muito mais lindo do que pensei que fosse.

Você elogiou. Não respondendo a pergunta dele, seguindo uma linha de raciocínio não linear. Jaemin observou sua pele brilhosa, pó mágico te envolvia, as ervas o encantavam e incitavam, ele queria muito, precisava muito do seu corpo.

— Você… você pode tirar sua roupa, Jaemin?

Sua pergunta foi de alguma maneira retórica, na sua cabeça ela fazia sentido, ele fez, ele te obedeceu enfeitiçado pela sua beleza, segurando a vontade de sentir além da textura do seu cabelo.

Um gemido saiu de seus lábios, você assistiu as gravuras brilhantes da barriga até abaixo do umbigo e seus olhos reluziam muito mais que qualquer luz ali presente. Seus dedos o tocaram, começou da coxa até a virilha, Jaemin não verbalizou sequer uma confirmação, mas permitiu que continuasse com o carinho. Seus dedos se concentraram na cabeça do pau dele, era tão maior que você, Jaemin era enorme, um Deus.

Com ajuda dele, você subiu ao altar, você explorou o corpo dele com os olhos e pontas dos dedos, a pedra se desfazendo no toque, assim como o pano mínimo que o cobria.

— Você é… enorme.

Verbalizou, redundante e de alguma forma se relembrando, maior muito mais que fisicamente, muito mais que materialmente.

Ele sorriu, vaidoso, os olhos dele levemente estreitos sumindo pelos fios negros e grandes dele. Jaemin gemeu quando sentiu o calor da sua pele, sua roupa se desfazendo nas coxas dele, sua nudez exposta muito mais que devia.

— Você parece tão molhada, garota.

Ele sentiu seus mamilos nos ombros dele, sua boca na clavícula, deixando rastros de saliva, do teu feitiço. Você estava adorando Jaemin, estava lhe oferecendo seu corpo, sua alma.

— Abre as pernas, preciso te ver.

— Mas… é muito grande, hm…

— Você pode fazer caber, feiticeira.

Ele sussurrou e mais uma vez a voz dele chicoteou as paredes do castelo, voltou contra você, sua pele adornada pelo recente calor dele.

O céu despediu-se da lua, as nuvens se abraçaram ao redor do castelo e os pingos de chuva molharam teu corpo religiosamente. Seu corpo se alinhou ao dele, suas mãos se apoiaram nos enormes ombros de Jaemin e você esfregou as dobras da sua buceta no pau dele.

— Porra.

Ele xingou, a língua se enrolando ansiosa nas bochechas, sentindo seu aperto e o quão absurdamente quente você estava. Aos poucos você desceu, deslizando tão tortuosamente sobre ele que parecia impaciente. Sua barriga tinha um pequeno monte, o pau dele preenchendo todos os cantos da sua buceta, como se ele fosse teu, teu destino.

Você impulsionou teu quadril, ele rosnou, um tesão que parecia ilógico, a sintonia da sua pele na dele fazendo as gravuras brilharem. Jaemin adornou seu quadril com os enormes dedos, impediu seus movimentos e deixou que você ficasse ali parada. Ele te olhou apaixonado, o foco no suor e sua respiração irregular. Jaemin te olhava nos olhos, não ousava te beijar, mas te apreciava, cada curva sua fazendo ele perder o sentido, a onipresença.

— Por favor. Vai Jaemin, eu quero mais fundo, eu quero mais–

Você choramingava, ele nem sabia dizer se eram suas lágrimas ou as gordas gotas de chuva molhando seu rosto. Mas você estava linda, uma das mais belas oferendas.

Ele abriu as bandas da sua bunda, arrumou a postura e alavancou seu corpo, deixou que você rebolasse e quicasse como quisesse. O ar se perdia toda vez que sentia a ponta do pau dele na boca do seu útero. Suas unhas partiram contra a pele dele, você lambeu a lateral do rosto de Jaemin e se deixou levar, se deixou explodir em cima do pau dele, todo seu líquido despejando-se na pele.

Ele respirava inquieto, suas paredes contraindo ao redor dele era muito mais do que qualquer coisa que pudesse suportar, você era muito, muito apertada e quente, derretia e lambuzava feito um doce. Jaemin gemeu contido, liberou o esperma em consequência do seu recente orgasmo e te elogiou entre suspiros, uma das gravuras sendo agora copiadas no teu corpo, feito tatuagem.

Então você foi surpreendida, ele se retirou e o esperma se esparramou pelo chão perolado e brilhoso, ele, agora em sua forma humana, despejou beijos pelos lábios, ainda muito maior que você. Te fez promessas, te manteve possessivamente por perto “Não vai durar muito, feiticeira, aproveite dos beijos”, brincou.

E você fez, deslizou a mão pela nuca dele, sentindo o doce da língua, o molhado do som cantando no seu ouvido, te excitando muito mais do que a primeira vez. Jaemin apertou sua bunda, beijou-lhe os seios, te limpou com a boca e te fez provar a si mesma, endeusando-te muito mais do que merecia, muito mais do que ele merece.

— Volte mais vezes, feiticeira, faça sua oferenda e eu te farei minha Deusa.

#jaemin x reader #jaemin x you #na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct imagines #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct u smut

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the-au-thor · 2 months

Text

A la Velocidad de la Luz (at the Speed of light) | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Hello! I just wrote something for my Steve Harrington people out there. I hope you like it

TW: read this!

word count: 9.1k

Synopsis: They're friends, they're not idiots, and yes, they're falling in love. Let's dive a little bit into the friendship between this two and get to know Steve's love language

It's not like I got inspiration in this song by Los Bunkers and you should totally listen to it

Part 2

Steve had totally recognized the symptoms the minute he saw you that Friday Movie night.

After the gnarly events you've all been through, it was obvious you have formed a bond, a bond that would bring together the fancy house on the fancy side of town with the humble trailer in the trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. A bond that would unite ages, circumstances, and tastes without discrimination, gathering a group of people religiously every Friday to eat popcorn and watch some horror movie. Then you'd all crash for the night because for some reason, nobody wanted to split up or be apart from each other. You needed each other to keep on living, and it wasn't something you would readily admit to in unison. It was more like a tacit agreement, and everyone was perfectly okay with it. The ongoing practice of cohabitation had made Steve more perceptive, somehow discovering that he enjoyed taking care of others, and griping about it was just part of a ritual where Dustin would have to go somewhere while pretending that Steve and only Steve could take him, and then, after grumbling, repeating that he wasn't his babysitter and whining, he'd grab his keys and take him wherever the kid desperately wanted to be. He could predict stomachaches when the kids stuffed themselves with sweets and be there with antispasmodic drops and chicken soup. He could also intervene in a bar fight at The Hideout just in time to prevent them from ruining the night when Corroded Coffin was playing and to keep them from calling Hopper for no reason. He had been there for Robin, Nancy, Argyle, and even Jonathan and each of the kids. Maybe that's why Hopper had suggested the Police Academy. Maybe that's why he felt like all of you were largely the reason he wasn't that lost kid with a terrible social life anymore and didn't know what to do with his life. You glanced at him with a half-smile right in the middle of the break to hit the bathroom that Nancy had instituted after Dustin suffered a urinary tract infection because he preferred to hold it in rather than miss out on Freddie's massacres.

"What's up?" you asked, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you looked at him straight on.

Steve didn't know you much before the catastrophic events in Hawkins brought you together. You were buds with Robin at school, worked alongside Nancy on the school paper, but you said you never had the same reporter spirit as Nance; you just liked to write, and you thought being a member of the school paper would look dope on your resume once you applied to college. There was a time when you and he bumped into each other at some parties because Vicki's twin brother, Justin Carmichael, was trying to convince you to go out with him. He remembered that afterward, Justin had been complaining for a week because you hadn't even had the decency to let him get to first base at the best party in school. Inside, Steven was relieved it turned out that way; Justin Carmichael was a big asshole. Just as much of an asshole as he used to be back then. After you graduated, you both ran into each other when he was at Scoops Ahoy and you visited Robin at the ice cream shop, that time Hawkins was in danger -AGAIN-, and they barely even counted it -AGAIN-. You were going to Indiana University during the week, and you'd come back on weekends because unlike Steve, your parents were loving people who loved having you around and were genuinely interested in what you liked, explaining your concerned and always open personality. Steve didn't find it odd, anyway, not to have noticed you before you just abruptly entered his life as you did. The Steve from the past wouldn't have noticed someone like you because he was a selfish jerk; he'd proven it with Nancy, and he had to suffer a lot before he could prove to himself that he was much more than what his parents and old friends expected of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked then, listening to Lucas and Max's whispering kisses on one of the back couches.

Robin was making more popcorn in the microwave while Nancy filled her in on her long-distance relationship with Jonathan back when he was still living in California and how Robin could make it work as well with Vickie. Steve always knew they could handle the distance; it was just something Nancy and Jonathan would be able to make work. Dustin had gone to the bathroom, obviously, while Will mocked the silly argument Mike and Eleven were having, which was occasionally interrupted by Eddie to make a comment that would serve as an argumentative catapult to fuel the little dispute.

Your eyes stopped at Steve's in silence, and finally, you nodded.

"Sure," you replied. "Finally, vacation; I missed not having to pack my bags every weekend," you murmured with a smile, "and I'll be able to take a break from Professor Lewis's lectures."

Steve grimaced. "Is he still making it tough on you?"

You nodded. "Until the very last second of class, I really don't know how I'm going to survive this year if he keeps up with his hate campaign, I don't know what I did to him."

Steve frowned.

"There are people like that, you know? Bitter. Maybe he's jealous because you're so talented," Steve saw you scrunch your nose and let out a snort of laughter.

"He's a writer for The Times, jealous?" Steve shrugged.

"Maybe he sees in you something he can never be," he explained easily, "it's not uncommon for adults to project onto younger ones and make them pay for it."

Again, you studied him in silence. You took another popcorn into your mouth just before speaking. "And how's your dad taking you being the first one in the academy?" you asked.

Steve let out a small snort.

"Oh, he's thrilled. Especially because Hopper seemed to be his nemesis in school when they both belonged to the same basketball team," Steve drank from his Coca-Cola can, taking two big swigs big enough to make his mouth no longer feel dry.

You smirked ironically. "Ah, well, speaking of adults projecting…"

Steve nodded, watching you rummage in your purse for your pills. He remembers the first time he saw you show them to everyone, explaining what they were; it was right after closing the portal once and for all. The government had put them up in fancy hotel rooms while you all took care of cleaning up Hawkins and the reputation Eddie had gained because of the serial killer they hadn't managed to subdue in the first place. You were safe; everything was finally okay. There wouldn't be any more interdimensional creatures flying, running, crawling, or floating around there thinking they could eat, scratch, possess, or kill whoever they encountered, but even when you knew it, you couldn't sleep.You have been there, ordering the most expensive food from the hotel and playing video games nonstop for twenty-four hours. For you, it really hit the limit when you saw Eddie spend three straight hours curled up in the fetal position on his bed without really sleeping. Steve saw you get up, turn off the kids' TV, and take the pasta tray away from Argyle. The kids didn't even have the energy to protest. You stood in the middle of the room in your hotel robe with weariness in your eyes.

"So,” you finally said, taking a bottle of medicine out of your purse. "I'm going to do something I shouldn't do, and you must promise not to tell your parents. And yes," you looked at Erica threateningly, "I'm specifically talking to you," you said and then began handing out a small white capsule to each of the kids except Erica, to whom you gave a bigger one, explaining that you wouldn't give her anything other than melatonin.

Dustin sniffed the pill and then looked at you curiously.

"And what's this?"

You glanced at Robin out of the corner of your eye and then at the rest.

"My sleeping pills. They're gentle, but I need them to sleep, which you haven't done for a long time, and you can't just keep ignoring that you can't fall asleep. So this is the deal; we're going to ignore the fact that I'm breaking the law with this, and everyone will take a dose, it's small. I won't tell you what it is, but definitely don't be alarmed if you taste a bitter flavor in your mouth," you explained gently. "And you must commit; everyone will go to the therapist as soon as we leave here because what happened isn't normal, and you need help."

Eddie accepted the deal without thinking, sat on the bed, and swallowed the capsule without a second thought. After that, he opened his bedclothes and wished everyone good night. You watched the kids take the pills after promising to go to therapy. Steve remembers helping you and Robin turn off the lights and dim the night lamps as you watched everyone settle into whatever corner of the room they could claim and cover themselves with blankets to try to sleep.

"I didn't know you needed those sleeping pills," Steve piped up in the dark when the snores kicked in. Robin was out cold smack dab in the middle of us, snoring up a storm, her face finally looking peaceful and carefree.

Steve had seen the danger lurking in your eyes before, the fear, the terror, the concern, but that night was the first time he caught a glimpse of this new emotion; it was like an internal retreat to pain being reflected in your irises. For a moment, you diverted your gaze, avoiding Steve's, before nodding.

"I started having panic attacks at fifteen. Got diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," you confessed. "Had too many sleepless nights, screwed up my school game, messed with my emotions and reactions," you whispered matter-of-factly, but Steve could sense there was a lot of pain behind those words. "It was rough at first, but trust me, with supportive peeps and solid therapy, it's worth it. And these pills? They're tame compared to what I had to down initially. Missed two weeks of school and just slept” you nodded, letting out a stifled yawn, and Steve couldn't resist but follow suit as fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids.

"Thanks for letting me in on that. You're tough, you know?" he responded, his words already starting to slur with sleepiness.

Your arm slinked over Robin, and your hand found its way to Steve's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Night, Steve," you murmured softly before drifting off into slumber.

You only needed one pill back then.

"Two?" Steve asked, furrowing his brow as he watched you down both capsules quickly, chasing them with a gulp of water as he nodded.

"Yeah, been having some trouble with the meds," you explained with a shrug. "Now that I'm free,I'm gonna see the doc and see how it goes."

Steve's expression clouded with worry. "Want some company?"

You took another sip of water, already formulating a quick response in your mind. "And have you wait around for an hour while my psychiatrist has me spillin' my guts in his office? Thanks, but I won't do that to ya."

"It wouldn't be a bother," Steve settled back on the couch, eyeing you. "But the offer's there."

You smiled, genuine gratitude shining through. "Thanks."

You and Steve watched Eddie make his way towards the TV as Dustin settled in next to Steve. Will nestled back on the floor, leaning against your legs as he always did. Steve had noticed, subtly since you and he met, that you two had formed a bond. Sometimes he caught glimpses of you two in your car, sharing ice cream and jamming out to tunes. When no one was looking, or so you thought, Will would lean towards you, and you'd start braiding his hair with a smile. Steve wondered if Will might have a bit of a crush on you, and you just didn't realize what was brewing there. Maybe he should chat with you about it; he wasn't sure if letting the kid catch feelings was good for him. The lights dimmed once more, the movie rolling on, and Eddie plopped down between you and Steve. Eddie shot his friend a sly look, knowing Steve was perfectly comfy where he was before. Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie and decided it was best to focus on the movie, but even in the tensest moments, he couldn't help but cast concerned glances at you; you'd taken your sleeping pills, yet you didn't seem to be yawning or preparing to nod off on Eddie's shoulder or curl up in the corner of the couch.

The next morning, you were the first one up, showered and clad in your athletic shorts, oversized Clash T-shirt as you whipped up breakfast for the sleepyheads still sprawled and tangled on the couch and rug, snoring away. Nancy was the second to join you, followed by Robin and Argyle. Steve then roused himself, greeting the ones awake, and headed to his room to grab a quick shower before joining them. While Nancy whipped up waffles, you manned the eggs, so Steve filled the coffee maker with his old man's favorite brew, which he never touched because he was hardly ever home.

"Wouldn't it be better if they woke up?" Nancy queried. "I mean, they were the ones hellbent on going to the lake for a swim."

Argyle snagged a piece of crispy bacon and started munching on it. "Sis, it's vacay, you can't go all dictator on 'em. When they're ready, they'll wake up."

Nancy snorted but didn't argue with his logic; instead, she piled the waffles onto a plate and leaned against Steve's kitchen island, eyeing you.

"You doin' alright?" she inquired.

You had been quiet, focused on the eggs as you stared into the pan with a distant gaze. You nodded, flipping the eggs before cutting the heat. You turned to Nancy with a smile.

"I'm good," you replied. "You been dealing with school drama?" you asked, catching Nancy's eye roll.

"I swear, if I get stuck with one more group of knuckleheads for a project, I'm gonna lose it," Nancy grumbled under her breath, eliciting a chuckle from Eddie, lounging between the cushions.

"Come on, Wheeler," he laughed. "We've worked together, and it's been smooth sailing, what could be worse?"

Robin sauntered over, tossing her threadbare cardigan—ridden with holes courtesy of Eddie's antics, claiming it looked "metal." It landed over Eddie's face and Robin shot him a look with arched eyebrows.

"You got no modesty, Munson?"

Steve chuckled as he poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

"Yeah, man, what's with the strip show in the dead of night?"

Eddie struggled to dress until he finally managed to awkwardly clamber up from the couch.

"Well, next time, you get to share a couch on a sweltering summer night with Henderson, what’ya think, pretty boy?" he griped before shooting Dustin a glare, who was still sound asleep with his mouth agape. Eddie tossed a blanket at him with force. "Wake up!"

Dustin startled awake, only easing when he saw everyone was fine and the worst thing that happened was a slobber stain on one of the sofa cushions in Steve's parents’ living room. He shuffled over to the couch, snagging the marked cushion and grimacing at it. Steve’s brows furrowed, mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace.

"Dude, this couch is worth a fortune. My mom's gonna flip when she sees this," he protested, lobbing the pillow back at Dustin, who was unapologetic about the incident, even wearing a smug smile, if anything.

Steve's house was a flurry of activity for the next few minutes; utensils clinked against dishes, and Steve’s parent will definitely notice those scratches Eddie left behind from trying to cut the bacon on his plate. You washed up everything each one of you used because, according to Nancy, it was better to leave everything clean, or else no one would have the energy to do it later. Robin, Steve, and you followed her orders because they weren't about to argue with someone like Nancy Wheeler. Argyle, Eddie, and Jonathan dried everything off and stowed it away while the kids geared up for an afternoon at the lake. When you arrived, you settled into lounge chairs and giant towels while most of the kids bolted for the water. Steve watched as you made the rounds, armed with a bottle of sunscreen, making sure everyone got slathered up on their backs, arms, faces, and shoulders, even though Mike protested about his fair, skinny skin. The rest splashed around for a while, indulged in ice creams, and even had a few impromptu swimming races where Steve had to fake a cramp so Dustin could finally win. Steve didn't realize, but you noticed, and you observed the little event with an amused grin. Steve wasn't the type to talk about feelings in front of a crowd out of the blue; that was more Eddie's style. He wouldn't stand in the middle of a bonfire and pour his heart out, declaring his undying love for everyone, but he had to admit moments like these made him feel damn happy. He'd always been a lone wolf trying desperately not to fit in but he never realized it was an issue until he met all of you, and it was something he could dig while the sun was still shining big and warm near the horizon. The kids were splashing around in the water with Robin, Eddie, and Argyle. Jonathan and Nancy were chilling a bit further away, exchanging kisses and small talk. You gave Will a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then playfully messed up his hair, making him laugh and shove you back. After that, you splashed water in his face before swimming off towards the lake shore. When your feet hit the stones, you strolled over to the stretched-out towel next to Steve with a smile and threw yourself onto it to soak up the sun. Steve looked as you adjusted your hair to the side, watching the little drops dance across your skin before disappearing or evaporating. Quietly, you quickly cracked open one of the books you always have with you, diving into its pages. He saw your fingers flick across the pages and your tongue peek out between your lips in concentration. He half-smiled and settled onto his towel, soaking in the warmth of the sun with a relaxed sigh.

"Can you imagine a dude with a freaky sense of smell going all psycho and killing a bunch of virgin girls to get their essence?" you broke the silence without taking your eyes off your book.

Steve arched a brow, somewhat amused. "Nah, I mean, we've seen worse stuff to not picture a human killing others," he replied sarcastically, earning a small, amused chuckle from you.

"Fair point," you replied, licking your finger to turn the page.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting on his towel, and turned to you, feeling a bit uneasy. "Hey, I think you should watch out for Will."

That made you glance up from your book, peering at him over your shades. Steve could sense the intensity of your gaze even though he couldn't see your eyes directly.

"Why? Has he been sniffing around and plotting murders?" Steve furrowed his brow.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered.

You left the book resting on your stomach to give him your full attention.

"Oh, it's just that we were chatting about the book, and then you brought up Will… but never mind, explaining a joke is lame, right?" you laughed, then sighed, suddenly feeling awkward. "What's up with Will?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck, trying to respond tactfully. Internally, he regretted starting that conversation without thinking it through first.

"I dunno. I just think maybe he's catching feelings for you… and it's not your fault, you're just nice to him," he cut himself off, trying to clarify his point, "…it's just that he might be getting the wrong idea…"

You lowered your shades a tad to meet his gaze directly.

"So, you're saying Will Byers might have a little crush on me?" you asked with a measured tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Steve squirmed, shoulders shifting as he scratched his nose, eyes darting away from yours.

"It's possible," was his only response. "I mean, it's not the first kid who has a crush on an older girl, y'know?" Older girl. You gave him a calm smile, picking your book back up to resume reading.

"Will doesn't have a crush, Steve. At least, not on me; trust me, I'd know," you reassured him gently, giving Steve one last look. "Seriously."

Steve didn't know, but you understood his concern all too well. There was a reason why you and Will were so close, and why your bond had grown stronger lately, and it had as much to do with Will's feelings as it didn't. It wasn't something you could explain too much; it was something that belonged to Will, not to you. You'd noticed a change in Will for a few months now, even before they moved to California, but you weren't close friends; you'd only tutored the kid a couple of times, and that wasn't enough to butt into his life. When the Byers returned to town, Will was even quieter, more withdrawn, even when he was with the whole crew. You couldn't help but worry, especially on the day Joyce came to you, asking for an hour of your weekends to help Will with his English essays; he was starting to get more and more distracted, Joyce's super-mom side wanted to step in, but her more rational side said to give him time to readjust. That talk had you worried all week until Saturday came and you saw for yourself the kind of distraction in Will's gaze. He wasn't just somewhere else, far from the room where you both tried to finish the essay the teacher had assigned to help him get his English back on track; no, he was deep inside himself, locked in some cell with the door wide open, but he was too comfortable and scared of the world outside to step out. You remember spotting an old school project he made in California, hidden away and dusty under a pile of canvases with sketches of massive dragons and knights in armor. The project was about Alan Turing; the dedication in that work caught your eye, and you dusted it off to showcase its potential. When you slid it in front of him, you told him that's the Will you wanted to see at school; you saw his eyes well up with tears, and you knew something else was weighing on him. Then you set aside the task, sat beside him, and took his hands. You promised to keep anything he told you discreet, then he started speaking. You'd never heard Will talk so much, and you were shocked as you listened to every word, how well he'd hidden his turmoil, and the loneliness creeping in. He was just a kid and he was facing his first heartbreak, and worse; you couldn't promise it'd be his last, he had it rough, and his road ahead would be bumpy. Since that day, you'd made sure to be there for whatever he needed, even planning a trip to the MET together to get him hyped about art. You were the baby sister in your family, you had three older brothers and you never knew what it was like to look out for someone else until you met the boys, and it brought you joy to make sure everyone was alright, especially making sure Will had a good summer with his friends and that his heart would heal, with hopes that a good boy would come along someday to help him pick up the pieces and mend all the crap he might face.

It was pretty late when they decided to head home. They dropped the kids off at the Wheelers', where they'd be crashing for a sleepover. Eddie invited you all to catch one of his Corroded Coffin rehearsals at the Hideout, and you were about to accept along with Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin, but Steve put his hand on your shoulder with a grin and said you had plans. For a sec, you looked at him confused, but a gentle squeeze on your side from him convinced you to play along. They bid the kids farewell outside the joint, and you climbed into Steve's car, curious. You saw him wait for both of you to buckle up before asking what he had planned.

"I thought we could do something, just you and me."

A date? You wondered innocently, Steve Harrington and you hanging out without the rest? You could only think of one time you'd decided to do something together. Once, you brought cookies to the Academy; he'd aced all his workouts, but his parents didn't even bother to pat him on the back. You and the rest planned a party for him to celebrate, but you wanted to do something special because you were hella proud. You baked his fave cookies (crunchy with cinnamon, caramel, and peanuts) and met him at lunchtime; apparently, they were just showering because his hair was still a bit wet at the ends. He was rocking shorts and a tank top, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed from exertion. He had a lil' towel draped 'round his neck as he dabbed his forehead. You were waiting for him in the lobby, standing up with a grin plastered on your face. You remember your cheeks hurting like hell, the slight ache nagging at you that night when intrusive thoughts came knocking uninvited, making you wonder if you looked like a loon.

"What's this?" Steve asked with a half-smile and a curious look as you held out a box.

"Congrats for passing your test," you replied, watching as Steve's expression shifted, a mix of sadness and gratitude, then he hugged you out of nowhere. You and him hugged before, especially after some close call that put their lives at risk, but this hug was different, more intimate. He rested his chin on your shoulder, rubbing your back tenderly. You heard him sigh softly, murmuring his thanks. After you and Steve pulled apart, you still on your toes and he with his hands on your shoulders, your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt like something was left unsaid, but it happened so fast you didn't have time to question it. You never talked about it again. You hadn't swung by the academy again, even though you had more than one reason to. For some reason, you felt like you needed to guard yourself, so you'd avoided being alone with Steve or making excuses to see him without the kids around. When you arrived at his house , you felt something strange stirring inside you. Maybe Steve caught your furrowed brow or your hesitation to step out of his ride and cautiously scoped out the entrance, because he walked over to your door and popped it open with a smile that somehow put you at ease.

"I gotta show you something inside," he announced, extending his hand toward you, offering it up for your trust.

You half-smiled, unsure how to react. You didn't know whether to feel pure curiosity or straight-up unease. You took his hand and follow him to the entrance. He didn't let go; he held onto your hand and occasionally traced circles on your palm, as if he knew exactly how to calm your jitters.

Inside the house, it looked just as you left it, except for some cushions outta place on Steve's parents fancy sofa. Steve kept his steps leading you upstairs. As you ascended, you checked out the family pics Steve's mom had hung on the wall. One was snapped in a studio with a basic blue backdrop adorned with clouds, featuring a smiling baby decked out in sailor threads. You smiled then; that baby was Steve. "Did you want siblings?"

As you hiked up the stairs in silence, Steve shot you a curious glance, and then nodded.

"Yeah, actually, but my folks shut down production very soon. My dad blames it on my mom, but we all know it's on him," he responded.

You made a face, recalling the one time you'd seen Steve's dad. He seemed distant, preferring it that way; he introduced himself as "Mr. Harrington," and you were pretty sure he'd adopted it as his first name. He seemed like the type to pin his own infertility on his wife.

"I always wanted little siblings" you murmured, lightly tracing your index finger over the wood. "Feels like I got them now."

"Yeah, some real pests," Steve grumbled, coming to a halt in front of a closed door, eyeing you.

You nervously smiled. I mean, with him looking at you like that, what were you supposed to do? You shrugged. "It ain't all bad," you murmured, eyes darting impatiently between the door and Steve's relaxed demeanor. You didn't see him like this often; he had that look that seemed to peer into your soul with those huge brown eyes. He slipped into the room, being all suspicious, and after a minute, he emerged, shutting the door behind him.

"I got somethin' for ya on the other side of this door," he said without giving you a chance to process how odd that might be because he knocked on the wooden surface and pushed it open, revealing the guest room of his enormous house. Inside, blackout curtains shielded the huge windows that overlooked the Harringtons' backyard.

You were struck by the scented candles and the distant sound of the sea emanating from some speakers by a massive, fluffy bed piled with cushions and pristine, crisply-stretched sheets. You looked at Steve with a mixture of confusion and fun.

"Could you at least invite me for a coffee first, Steve…?" you quipped, trying to dispel the slight unease creeping up your spine.

Steve half-smiled, giving a weak chuckle. "If I were goin' that route, I'd spring for somethin' a bit fancier than a brew; give me some credit," he played along, entering the room and picking up a neatly folded outfit from his hands. "No, babe; this is an intervention plan."

With your feet still lingering in the doorway, you arched an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Intervention for what?"

"Glad you asked," Steve said, handing you the folded clothes; the soft fabric of the pajama set brushed against your fingers as you wondered what all this was about. "I'll get the tub runnin'. My mon left this stash of bath salts that supposedly turn you into a new human; so, enjoy the bath, Slip into these PJs, then come down for dinner and after that, off to bed, and I don't wanna hear from you until at least tomorrow at noon ."

You frowned. "Steve; What…?" You shook your head quickly, trying to dispel the confusion as if by magic. "I don't get it."

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, meeting your gaze squarely. "You haven't been getting proper sleep for months; you ain't fooling me. You said it's just sleep trouble, but I know it's deeper; you've been mega stressed, and when that happens, insomnia kicks in, panic attacks, negative vibes, and the urge to be completely alone. I've seen it; so let's try sidestepping that, and for that, I've whipped up a sleep bomb. I just need your cooperation, can I count on that?"

You studied him, trying to read him in return. You were surprised Steve had clocked your distress signals. You hadn't wanted to tip off anyone, not even your parents who'd been through it all before. You didn't want to put them through it; you didn't want to tell them that during your college days, when you weren't studying or dodging Mr. Lewis' attempts to fail you out of spite, all you could think about was returning to Hawkins; to be with them, your friends, your fam. You didn't want to confess that you'd revisited that dark place where you wondered, during those long, sleepless nights, how it would feel to just snooze forever and wake up when everything hurt less. Every so often, your mind dragged you there; you knew they were bouts triggered by high stress, and you knew they'd pass, but not knowing when or how long it'd last was another torture on your plate. You hadn't needed to voice your cries for help for Steve to come through was both surprising and scary. Surprising because you didn't think he'd notice; he was busy running the mansion his parents barely occupied, looking after the kids, and navigating the rigors of the academy while trying to fend off the hordes of newfound fans who were back to fawning over him. Would there even be room for you in his schedule? You knew you were friends, but honestly, you'd hung out more often with Nancy, Robin, and Eddie—shopping, hitting the movies, catching gigs—than with Steve on a single aimless stroll downtown. Among your friends, Steve was honestly the last person you'd figured would clock your silent pleas for help. And yet here he was, front and center; at some point, he'd carved out time to spruce up a whole room, light candles, have a bed that screamed comfort, and a silky PJ set just for you. It felt like your lungs swallowed all the air in the room, and oxygen only reached you for a fragile, feeble thank you that stumbled out haltingly. Steve seemed to appreciate that sliver of gratitude, and something in his eyes softened for a beat. He gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze before leaving you to run the taps, filling the tub with glorious hot water that soon had you melting into bliss and your muscles thanking the heat. You tilted your head back as your toes curled in delight. You were pretty sure the salts hadn't done much beyond a certain softness on your skin, but the pleasant aroma had managed to unwind you. When you decided it was time to get out, mainly because the water had cooled and your fingers were pruney, you dried off and slipped into the comfy satin Pijama, a lovely mahogany color that smelled of detergent and fabric softener.

It was pure bliss; that's what you thought as you descended the stairs and found the table set with iced tea, a salad, and two plates brimming with bolognese pasta.

Steve didn't know how to cook much else; his waffle game was weak, and his scrambled eggs were always overdone. But if there was one thing Steve Harrington could nail, it was a homemade pasta dish. You couldn't figure out why he'd never flexed that culinary muscle with his dates; you were sure by now Steve Harrington was off the market for a good long while. Part of you, a part you tried not to dwell on too much, wished that sliver of Steve that only you and the rest of the group knew would remain under wraps. Then you felt guilty for even wishing that; you knew Steve felt lonely and wanted to find someone, and as you twirled pasta onto your fork, you knew he deserved it, because the pasta was divine, and because he'd taken the time to make it himself.

You would've kept munching, but you knew it'd be greedy. Steve rose and led you to bed, rattling off a laundry list of reasons why you wouldn't be lifting a finger, starting with the fact that you were caught up in a smartly orchestrated intervention by him.

"What's up?" Steve asked as you settled under the covers of the bed and the reality hit you.

"Every night I give this a shot, Steve; trying to calm, close my eyes, and just sleep, and I really wanna now but I just can't…"

Steve rubbed his nose, nodding, plopping down beside you, all ears.

"Look at yourself," he murmured. "You're stressing about not being able to sleep, and that's why it ain't happening." You shook your head. "It's not that, really, Steve. It's just that I know myself; I know, and it's frustrating. You have no idea how many nights I've spent staring at the ceiling, feeling like my body just needs to move. It's practically physically impossible for me to lie in bed, no matter how comfy it is."

"Alright," Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I have an idea. Remember when we were keeping watch to make sure Vecna didn't snatch Max at the Wheeler's house?" You nodded. "Yeah, Dustin never shut up, and God knows I couldn't shut him up myself, so I just resigned myself to having to listen to his annoying voice for the rest of the night, and then boom! I woke up, and it was morning."

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "You fell asleep on your watch to keep an eye on Max?"

"Hey, Henderson was still awake, and nothing went down, right?"

You opened your mouth, astonished. "Something could've gone down, Steve."

"But it didn't!" he retorted, letting out a sheepish laugh and trying to defend himself. "But that's not the point. The point is, I fell asleep," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while still sitting on the bed. Steve must've recognized that you looked adorable trying to scold him for his irresponsibility. "Listening to Dustin's voice, I slept like a baby all night."

You raised an eyebrow, finally getting it.

"Are you telling me that all this time, I've just needed Dustin's voice to sleep soundly?"

"No," he replied, pointing his finger at you with a victorious grin. "My voice, babe, my voice will make you sleep like a rock tonight." He then got up and gestured for you to lie down in bed. You looked at him, suppressing a laugh. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, now you find it funny, but when you wake up in the morning feeling rested, I'll have the decency not to tell you it was thanks to me."

You smiled, adjusting your hair to the sides.

"Oh, Steve, thank you so much, how considerate of you," you laughed, but the laughter was immediately stifled when you saw Steve start to settle down next to you in bed. He lay on his side and rested his head on his palm to look at you. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just gonna lie down next to you and talk to you. The only rule is that you can't speak; you'll close your eyes and listen to my voice."

Bossy.

You nodded silently and closed your eyes. You heard Steve sigh but didn't look at him again; after all, he had gone to all this trouble, so you would cooperate. You would do your part.

Then Steve began to talk. He spoke for at least an hour about his life, his folks, and what he wanted to do in the future when he graduated as a cop and started taking care of this town again, with Hopper as his boss. Damn it, it would be tough following the old man's orders, but he'd take it on. He didn't stop even when your intermittent breathing became a steady rhythm that could only mean you were finally catching some sleep. Steve didn't stop looking at you as he reached out to the speaker and lowered the volume of the ambient sound. He didn't stop even as the chirping of crickets seeped in from his backyard and formed a whispered melody along with the croaking of the frogs.

He couldn't stop looking at you.

Steve watched your eyelashes brush your cheeks. The air entering and exiting through your slightly parted lips as you breathed. He looked at your nose and traced imaginary lines on your face, following it with his gaze as if he were redrawing you. It wasn't fair that you couldn't rest, that it was so complicated for you. Steve had seen you sleep deeply in the most complicated places and under the most critical circumstances. You were perfect under pressure; something told him that you would prefer Vecna as an enemy than any internal demon that haunted your mind. He had seen more fear in your face when you thought that it would be another sleepless night than when one of the demodogs that attacked at Hopper's old cabin pinned you down with its weight and drooled over your face as if they were thinking about your taste even before taking a bite. Steve hit it right in the middle of its neck with his bat and didn't stop until Dustin told him it was more than dead, impaled against the wooden floor. He didn't know it then, but he would have killed any monster for you. Even the one that tormented you in your mind.

"Thank you," he finally spoke, stretching his other hand to caress your hair. "You've always taken care of us, and that's very little to say." He admitted, "I think you try to do it because you haven't managed to take care of yourself as you should." He whispered, removing a strand of hair that had floated over your face. "Relax; I'll do it."

You had made them all fulfill their promise in the hotel room that night with the sleeping pills. They had each been given a separate room, but trauma unifies, and they couldn't spend time apart; they all gathered in Eddie's room and spent hours together. After that, when things calmed down and they went through interviews with men dressed in black and serious looks, they went to a high-security clinic where Owen was waiting to give them a physical examination. None of the scars they had were completely healed; Eddie had to undergo skin grafts on his abdomen, and Max had to undergo rehabilitation to walk normally again.

"It's not enough," you had told Owen when he discharged them all with prescriptions for the best free medicine. The man raised his gaze from his folder to look at you through his glasses. "We need therapy."

"Kid…" Hopper spoke behind you with a tired voice, but you stopped him firmly.

"No," you turned to him and looked at Owen for a few seconds. "He smelled like a distillery even before the first attack of the first demogorgon," you reminded everyone. "How do you think he's going to be when all the adrenaline from this is gone? Hopper needs therapy. We all do. Max almost lost her sight; Eddie came back from the dead. You can't say everything is fine and send us back to a town where everyone will still judge us no matter what." Owen opened his mouth, but you weren't ready to stop talking. "You weren't there; you don't know what we had to go through. We don't even fully understand it ourselves; we literally avoided a dimensional catastrophe that wasn't our responsibility, Owen. They owe us."

The truth was, none of them except you thought therapy was a good idea. A monster had used their worst nightmares and traumas to get rid of them. They didn't want to have to open their hearts once a week to another stranger to take advantage of that. But you had been firm in making them all fulfill the commitment, and against all odds, they all agreed and completed their therapies as they should. Even Mike, who had shown extreme resistance to the heart-to-heart talk, had finally relented. You had won those kids over, Steve saw it. And he had to admit that was part of the reason why he sometimes felt jealous. It was pathetic to admit it; an adult jealous of children. But damn it; he would feel good if one day one of the hugs you gave to Will Byers was meant to be given to him.

"You are going to a lot of trouble for her," Dustin told him the next morning as he rudely chewed on a raspberry. "Hey! Little human vacuum: stop eating someone else's breakfast; this isn't for us." "You see? This is what I mean! I could be planning a new D&D campaign that would surprise Eddie and have him kissing my ass for the next decade, but here I am helping you surprise a girl." "It's not to surprise her; she finally slept more than eight hours and needs to eat," Steve began to respond as he poured some of Robin's pancake mix onto the hot skillet. "And I remind you that I'm the one driving thousands of miles so you and your sexier-than-Phoebe-Cates girlfriend, a fact I highly doubt, can see each other. So I would appreciate it if you stopped eating her food and helped me with this as I asked." Dustin frowned but continued to add raspberries to the mix anyway. "You know? I always thought you and Robin had something," Steve rolled his eyes and snorted. "Then for a moment, I thought you and Nancy would get back together by the dumb way you kept looking at her. But now this makes more sense." Steve squeezed a drop of the splashed pancake mix onto his finger and brought it to his mouth. "Yeah? Why is that?" Dustin, focused on his work, shrugged. "When you and Robin are together, you joke around like you and me, Steve, and I refuse to think you're into me." Steve made a disgusted gesture. "Gross, dude, enough." "That, and when you looked at Nancy, you suffered, Steve; you were the most miserable, pathetic…" "Don't be so kind, you'll make me cry." "…sad, and depressed," Dustin ignored his friend, handing him the bowl full of pancake mix. "but with her, you're happy; you smile. You don't have to pretend to be cool all the time, and you actually talk to her. Plus, you take care of her, and that's good because you've been breathing down my neck for so long and acting like my mom. I didn't want to tell you, but you were suffocating me, and you finding a girlfriend would be great for my individuality, Steve." Steve flipped the pancake to let the other side brown while making a face. "I get it, Henderson, you need space, and I'll give it to you as soon as you finish helping me with the coffee and get out of here." Dustin scratched his nose and coughed. "Ass-hole." Dustin was right; you brought out the best in him. Steve could talk to you and not feel like he had to impress you all the time. You made his stomach flutter, but you didn't make him act like an idiot. It was too difficult for him to figure out whether what he felt with you was a friendship that was too strong or something more. He missed you the weeks you were studying at the University, and when you came back to Hawkins, you were never close enough to him.

"I think it would be a big step to go on dates with lots of girls that would end when you drop them off at their houses the next morning," Robin had told him one day while they were rearranging the movie shelves at Family Video after Steve told her about his plan. They had stood up after the earthquake, and Keith hadn't wanted anything to do with the business again. Steve and Robin decided to take over; having a business and extra money in their pockets wasn't bad. Max, Will, and Dustin took turns after school, and they had officially entered the workforce, earning some bills that they could later spend on whatever those little gremlins spent their money on now. "Robin, it's already weird enough to have an ex in your friend circle, two would be too many, and it's a risk I'm not willing to take." His best friend let out a mocking laugh. "Ding, ding, ding, ding, Dingus! you just admitted you like her." Obviously, Steve liked you, he thought now as he plated the pancakes after getting rid of Dustin and dispatching him to Eddie's house where they would plan their new campaign or something like that. Steve liked many things and people; otherwise, he wouldn't surround himself with them. The issue was figuring out what kind of feeling he had for you. It didn't help that everyone seemed to have it figured out except him. Besides, even if he did figure it out. What about you? What did you feel about him?

Steve was your damn hero, you thought as you stretched between the soft sheets of the most comfortable bed you had ever tried and opened your eyes after a huge and shameless yawn. You looked at the ceiling of the room, trying to contain your joy. You looked at the clock on the bedside table on one side of the bed and laughed softly when you saw it was exactly noon. You had slept for over twelve hours; that was more than you usually rested in a week at College. You raised a victorious fist and got out of bed to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit before heading downstairs and looking for Steve on the first floor. You found him squeezing the juice from an orange in his kitchen when he looked at you somewhat dismayed. You walked towards him with a smile and gave him a tight hug, burying your face in his chest and feeling him slowly return the hug.

"Thank you, Steve. I really rested," you moved away from him and looked around; on a tray were syrup, raspberry pancakes, and freshly scrambled eggs. "Did you make all this?" Steve scratched his neck, somewhat embarrassed. "Dustin came over for a while to help," he admitted, and then saw your rested face without being able to help but smile. "How nice of him," you said with a smile. If you had heard his string of complaints, you wouldn't find him so nice. But he wouldn't tell you that. "Are you hungry?" "Famished!" Steve saw the sparkle in your eyes; even your smile was different when you rested. As you chewed your breakfast with gusto and asked him about his graduation from the police academy, Steve observed you again carefully so you wouldn't notice it, partly because he didn't want you to think it was strange, but also because the little adrenaline rush he got from it was addictive. He didn't know what was going on: he had known you for years, you were never a point on his radar. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could count the times you both talked in high school and would only need the fingers of one hand. You were never attractive to him enough to be his friend, let alone something more. It's true that if he tried to remember, he could say that you always had that pleasant smile and those huge eyes that seemed to read whoever they saw. You were also nice; you never paid special attention to Tommy and Carol, nor did it seem to matter to you to be part of the school's social hierarchy, nor did it seem to matter to you to be his friend even after the Hawkins attack. Although it's true that you were always kind, he couldn't say that they became friends until a year or two ago. Steve had lived a life without you; the curious thing was that now he found it hard to imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

Your heart seemed to ache. It was strange because you were happy, very happy; you had had a bath with aromatic salts, a good dinner, most importantly: a good rest and a delicious breakfast. But your heart hurt. Today was a good day, and you didn't want to be ungrateful, but you wouldn't have this forever; and you didn't talk about the shower, the food, or the, oh, comfortable bed the size of a Cadillac. No, this; to Steve. You couldn't help feeling that your happiness had an expiration date, and it was too soon. Your stomach hurt, your chest hurt, and your mind hurt. Anyway, you tried not to show it, and in the afternoon when Steve dropped you off at your house after vegging out in his living room eating the leftovers from the night before and watching comfort movies like The Breakfast Club and The Princess Bride, which Eddie had gotten in some non-legal but not illegal way since it had come out only a few months ago in theaters, you tried not to look at him too much or try to count the moles on his neck because it was real torture. He had looked at you with those eyes and smiled as he said goodbye to you. You saw him watching you until you entered your house and said goodbye with a wave one last time. He drove away in his car, and you stayed by the window because it was almost physically impossible to move away from there. "And then?" your mother's voice sounded behind you, which was the only thing that made you move. You turned to her still holding the bag with the soft pajamas that Steve had refused to let you return. "Steve told me his plan. Did you manage to sleep?" You nodded, and your mother approached to hug you while making little cries of joy. You hid your head in her neck and started crying, it took a couple of seconds before your mother noticed. Damn Steve Harrington and his consideration for telling his plan to your mother. Damn, damn it. "What's wrong?" your mom asked, worried, cradling your face. "I need help, Mom," you hiccupped, and the phrase was barely understandable. You saw your mother raise her eyebrows and nod. "Of course, but what's wrong? What do you feel?" You tried to breathe and put your hand on your chest. "F-fear" Your mother's expression softened, making her look younger when she seemed to understand what you meant. "Oh, no, sweetheart. No," she kissed your forehead and wiped your tears with a small consoling smile. "You're in love."

Yes, at least Steve had recognized the symptoms.

#stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you

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inglourious-imagines · 8 months

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practically begging for some george luz w/ enemies to lovers. everyone always writes amazing friends to lovers but there’s sm potential w e2l !!! love ur writing btw xx

Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Summary: George Luz is a funny guy, there is absolutely no denying that. He likes making jokes, and he likes it even more when people laugh at them. So what happens when there comes a person who makes just as good jokes as George? Or maybe even better? Some enemies to lovers for y’all.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc

Warnings: like two swear words, angst in the form of Bastogne

A/N: I so suck at endings.

Cracking jokes and making people laugh is George’s thing and his only, that’s how it’s always been. He is the funny guy in the group, that’s how he likes to define himself, the funny one. But to define is to limit and George has made the mistake of limiting himself to clinging to one particular personality trait, humour.

And then Y/N came along; about four months into the boot camp Y/N got reassigned from Dog Company to Easy Company for reasons no one knew, except for Lewis Nixon perhaps. George did not start hating her per say right from the moment he met her, but ever since she beat him to the joke when watching his favourite movie he’s strongly despised her. From then on, the feelings only got stronger; she’s always making the whole Company laugh, some of the jokes even on his account which George does not like one bit, hell she even managed to make Blithe chuckle that one day after D-Day.

Y/N had no idea what she triggered by her naturally jokester nature until she had to face a very pissed off George after she blabbed some joke about some actress and then a very pissed off George is the only kind of George she has had the privilege of meeting. The woman has pondered greatly about what she could have possibly done to anger the man so, but nothing came to mind and she soon gave up. George continued and stubbornly continues to be rude to her so she should only repay his “kindness”.

After Carentan, the word of Operation Market Garden is in the air and the Allies are particularly optimistic. Easy is in the pub, celebrating its successes in the war, while some reinforcements are trying to mingle. Y/N is watching it all from behind, the old breed not wanting to socialize with the newbies at all and sometimes the situations can get truly hilarious.

Somehow, in a few minutes, she finds herself behind a table with Luz, Malarkey, Muck and other three reinforcements who are just drinking up George’s story about his valour in Normandy. Her lips itch upwards from now and then, George’s drunkenness making it all the more amusing. Y/N can tell the new guys are impressed and somewhat terrified as well and one of them puts a pin on it when he asks Luz, “And what rank are you?”

The table sits in silence for a moment, for absolutely no one expected such question, not even the other reinforcements, then Malarkey and Muck burst out laughing, almost tipping over their beers.

Y/N chuckles, reaches over, and pats the guy’s arm. “Oh c’mon, it is Private!”

That absolutely finishes off Don and Skip, Skip eventually falls off his chair, the reinforcements are now laughing too; the mood slightly more friendly and at ease than before. Not for everyone though.

George is red to his ears, as he frowns. “The joke wasn’t that good. And it’s not even true.”

Donald is hiccupping now but manages to answer, “A- a bit c- corny, yes, but f-fucking b-brilliant.”

***

At this point the Company is divided into two parts only, one part bets on the two of them killing each other and the other parts bets on them fucking; which it will be is truly in the stars for George and Y/N are face to face again, both of them red in the cheeks from all the anger, both of them shouting some incoherent insults, and as Penkala has put it, “See? Honestly I can really see both happening. They will either kill each other or fuck, there is absolutely nothing in between.”

But then Market Garden happens, an underestimated operation, that leaves behind too many dead than it should and when all of Easy is boarded on trucks, retreating, the company is two people short.

Bull Randleman and Y/N Y/L/N.

The officers discuss what can be done, and despite all of the men wanting to go and save the two of the best soldiers in the company, they know they can’t. And exactly that is making George Luz lose his mind. He can’t really understand why he is so restless, anxious, and downright terrified throughout the whole night; he tosses and turns, he is not able to bring himself to close his eyes.

But then in the morning he sees Y/N on the jeep next to Bull and suddenly he feels like he could fly and go to Berlin and kill Hitler, just so he could see the carefree smile on her face.

It clicks in him just then, and Malarkey pats his shoulder. “So, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

George turns to him, confused. “What?”

Malarkey laughs, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t play dumb with me, you idiot, I saw it just now.”

As much as George would like to answer his friend, he truly has no idea what he is talking about, and when that dawns on Donald, he offers George a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, let me put your thoughts to words, ‘cause you’re such an oblivious idiot that you probably wouldn’t figure it out by the time this motherfucking war is over,” Malarkey continues, “you don’t hate her, do you, not really.”

It is not even a question, more of a statement, and George really wants to protest, more than anything, because it is ridiculous, right?

***

The plan to be home by Christmas isn’t really working out for the Allies but the soldiers of Easy Company have already forgotten about those false hopes, they aren’t the ones to be bothered with when you freeze your ass off in a foxhole in the middle of a forest where the trees blow up every now and then and the place becomes a tornado.

Y/N shares a foxhole with Muck and Penkala, the trio trying to lighten up their gloomy moods with laughter. But even Y/N is running out of jokes now, so when doc Roe runs up to them, asking for scissors, she’s more than happy to go look for them with him too, the need to stretch her stiff and frozen body overpowering her whole self.

She’s just a couple of meters away from her foxhole when another German artillery attack comes and the whole forest becomes a hurricane of explosions, splinters, and blood. The soldier throws herself to the ground, crawling her way, slowly, back to her foxhole, Muck and Penkala shouting something at her she can’t hear, encouraging her to hurry up.

Dirt is everywhere, she barely can see, she covers her ears and head with her hands as another hit comes; she continues right after the explosion, crawling, crawling, crawling.

Muck and Penkala are still shouting at her, she is getting closer; Y/N can hear another artillery attack coming but this time she doesn’t stop proceeding, she knows she has to get into the foxhole soon, so she keeps on pushing.

The explosion comes. Everything goes white for a moment. The pressure wave makes her stop moving, and she is forced to close her eyes and cover her head with her hands.

She opens her eyes. There is nothing.

Seconds ago, there were two people, now there is nothing, nothing left, not a single trace that there have ever human beings stood.

Y/N can’t bring herself to move, she stares blankly into the space before her, her limbs are stiff. But then some arms grab her body, she can hear someone shouting at her.

3 seconds. That’s all it takes her to get back. She holds on to George’s arms as they run together to another foxhole, jumping right in. He immediately brings her into his body, she wraps her arms around his torso instinctively, holding onto him so tight, her head resting on his chest. George shields her body from everything outside and when the bombing finally stops, they don’t let go of each other for another few moments.

It isn’t until a few years after the war and they are married to each other, when they finally talk about what happened that day in the forest of Bois Jacques, not a day sooner. Ever since then, their relationship has been changed, both very much aware of it, neither of them brave enough to bring it up just yet.

It is in Haguenau, where they finally share a conversation. George finds her on her own, behind some building, hiding behind some sacks, looking at the river. He throws a Hershey bar into her lap and when she looks up in confusion, he offers her a warm tired smile.

“What did I do to deserve the affection of the one and only George Luz?” she tries to crack up a joke and chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. George knows Y/N is exhausted beyond words.

He sits down next to her, as he opens his mouth to say something, but he rethinks it in the last second and nothing comes out. They sit out there for a few minutes, sharing the silence and strangely enough, it feels nice. George finally does not feel the need to talk all the time, the need to prove himself funny or worthy of other people’s attention.

“Have you ever been to Rhode Island?” he suddenly blurts out, surprising himself and her at the choice of the question.

Y/N smiles, doesn’t ask why or what. “No, never.”

“Then come with me.”

This time she asks what.

“After the war I mean, come home after the war with me.”

“But- but, you-“ she stutters, her cheeks slightly red, “but you hate me.”

George chuckles at that and looks at her. She has bags under her eyes that are a bit bloodshot (she hasn’t slept much in the last few days), her hair is dirty from dirt and sweat, her face has several scratches and marks, his eyes finds the most visible one just below her left cheekbone (he recalls that day in Carentan when a piece of shrapnel hit her and the wound looked way worse then it actually was for she had blood all over her left side of face, freaking out silently has never been so hard – he hadn’t known at that time what will come). He has never seen anything to maddeningly and purely beautiful as her.

“I thought I did, a very long time ago,” he says, “but actually I never did. I don’t hate you. How could I?”

Y/N looks at him and through all the pain, horror, and grief, she feels peace. It surprises her.

And so she responds, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I will come home with you. How could I not?”

#imagine #hbo war #fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #george luz #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #eugene roe #lewis nixon #george luz x reader #george luz imagine #george luz oneshot

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xexyromero · 2 months

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Difícil achar coisas em português para ler no tumblr, e mais difícil ainda coisas boas. Seu perfil é raridade, amei demais. 🇧🇷

Poderia escrever como seriam os meninos do cast carentes? algo super fofo. ♡

wn: muuuuuito obrigada! fico super feliz e te agradeço muito <3 espero que você goste, viu?

meninos do cast x carência

fem!reader headcanon

tw: palavrão <3

enzo:

o último romântico mais carente de todo o planeta terra.

é daqueles carentes manhosos, que pede atenção fazendo o drama mais exagerado possível.

isso significa ficar parado, na sua frente, agarrado com uma roupa sua ou um travesseiro, suspirando e virando o rosto toda vez que você olha para ele.

“sim, você não me ama e eu sei disso. vai me humilhar mais ainda?”

apesar de tudo, e do jeito dramático, tem uma pitada de bom humor sempre. ele exagera tanto que te faz rir, capturando a atenção que ele tanto queria.

agustin:

é carente? é. vai fazer de tudo para não parecer carente e falhar miseravelmente? sim.

se falando de agus, ele é muito mais carente de atenção do que qualquer coisa. não liga pra falta de toque, não liga pra falta de mensagem, mas liga profundamente se entrar no cômodo e você não chamar pra um beijinho.

ele vai tentar chamar sua atenção de todas as formas que ele conseguir - e se isso significa coisas extremas tipo cortar o cabelo ou ficar 24hrs pelado, ele vai fazer.

é capaz de chegar no nível da ameaça, viu?

“amor, se você não falar comigo nos próximos 5 minutos, eu vou ser obrigado a raspar a cabeça. tô falando sério. não adianta chorar depois!”

fran:

sinceramente? não é carente com muita frequência, não. ele é muito carinhoso, tranquilo e não acha que precisa ficar cobrando atenção. mas quando fica…

só falta falar miando.

daqueles carentes que tenta suprir a carência te agradando de todas as formas possíveis. vai lavar o banheiro, ajeitar aquela luz que estava a meses sem funcionar e lavar a louça sem você pedir.

e não só coisas domésticas, viu? fran vai se oferecer pra assistir aquele seu filme favorito que ele não gosta muito (só tem um), fazer massagens do mais absolutamente nada e até passar uma máscara de cabelos em você.

“me deu a doida e eu comprei cinco barras do seu chocolate favorito. que loucura, né?”

kuku:

o tipo mais tranquilo de carente: aquele que fala a respeito da carência.

“amor, estou com saudade sua. a gente pode ficar mais pertinho hoje?”

você até percebe que ele está um pouquinho mais carinhoso, um pouquinho mais romântico e até mais meloso. mas ele faz isso de forma tão sútil que é quase natural você dar um amorzinho a mais para ele.

inclusive, esse é o trunfo de esteban: ele vai se aproximando com os olhos baixinhos, a voz tranquila, um cafuné aqui um carinho ali e pronto, você já está no papo e agarradinha nele.

(adora quando você fica carente e vai fazer de tudo pra ouvir sua voz manhosa).

matias:

ele fica INSUPORTÁVEL quando está carente.

chama atenção das piores formas possíveis, tanto físicas (pode se preparar pra mordida, beliscão e sua bunda sendo apertada do mais absolutamente nada) quanto práticas (deixar a toalha molhada em cima da cama, por exemplo).

mas, por incrível que pareça, é bem consciente e vai tentar conversar com você a respeito da melhor forma que consegue.

“tô carente pra porra, nena. eu quero uma conchinha agora ou vou enlouquecer.”

pra matí, resolução de carência é física e presente. nada de telefone, tv ou qualquer tipo de distração. só resolve vocês juntinhos, onde quer que seja, passando um bom tempo de qualidade juntos.

pipe:

você sabe que pipe está carente quando ele começa a te perguntar o que você está fazendo ou o que você vai fazer (as vezes até o que você fez) de cinco em cinco minutos.

te segue que nem um cachorrinho, para cima e para baixo.

“amor, já desliguei o jogo. quando você quiser falar comigo, viu? eu tô aqui!”

é orgulhoso e não vai admitir que está carente ou com saudade, mas também não vai ser chato a respeito.

apesar da personalidade calma, é muito apaixonado pelo que ama e gosta de sentir uma paixão igual. ou seja, vai começar a achar estranho e te seguir no primeiro “felipe” em vez de “pipe” que você soltar.

juani:

vai te enviar um travazap e não vai parar até que você largue o que quer que esteja fazendo e preste atenção nele.

“ué. eu mesmo não fiz nada. seu telefone deve ter parado de funcionar sozinho. mas, já que ele parou, porque a gente não se aproveita?”

não é muito do tipo carente (até porque está sempre presente na sua vida das formas que consegue), mas tende a ser um cadin inseguro quando sente sua falta.

vai chamar sua atenção tentando te fazer rir - tanto com meme, quanto relembrando histórias engraçadas que já viveram ou cantando alguma música (tipo coração com buraquinhos, da chiquititas).

sim, ele vai fazer uma camisa com seu rosto.

#enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic #agustin pardella x reader #agustin pardella #fran romero #fran romero x reader #esteban kukuriczka #esteban kukuriczka x reader #matias recalt x reader #matias recalt #pipe otaño x reader #pipe otaño #juani caruso x reader #juani caruso #lsdln cast #hc

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pedrostylez · 1 year

Text

Mi Vida

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

summary: reader and Javier are coworkers that typically hate each other, but find each other helpful in relieving that stress

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:3.6k

warnings etc: smut, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, pet names, oral, female recieving, established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: I finished Narcos last week :( and I know that Murphy isn’t in the last season but I have him here because I feel like it. Loosely based on some of the events in Season 3, but barely. Anyways! This is the final part of the Mi Luz fic. Thank you for sticking around for my first one. Writing will hopefully improve as time goes on :)

3 months after Mi Cielo

Seeing him at work was different from his apartment. Both were stressed out Javier, but one was colder to you and one was loving, inviting, and warm. Sometimes you thought he was angry with you, even though it had been clarified on more than one occasion he was trying to separate the two of you at work so as to “not embarrass you.” Had you really asked for that so often that he repeated it back?

Maybe at first you were embarrassed-you didn’t want anyone to know about your relationship with him because you thought it would backfire. But now you wished for a little more attention. It had almost been a year since you two started your weekly get-together, and Susan and Amy had let you know that after that night in the bar, they could see how he cared for you.

You brought a file up to Murphy after he called you while heading back from his most recent trip out, now staring at the back of Javier’s head while Murphy flipped through the file. If Murphy was asking you a question you missed it, the back of Javier’s neck was too interesting to not focus on. He looked tense, head buried in the paperwork in front of him and going through files you had given him days before that he never returned.

You used to get on him about not giving back files, but you knew this was important. He had mentioned at his place over the weekend that he was trying to track one of the connections' wives down from the Cali cartel, and you encouraged him to keep the papers until he figured it out. He had momentum and you weren’t going to break it.

“Thanks for this, but I don’t think it is what I need.” Murphy’s voice took you out of your trance, eyeing you and glancing at Peña. He had never said, but you were positive that he knew about your relationship with Peña too. They were friends and sometimes your weekends were cut short so that Javier could go to Steve’s like he used to.

You smiled, bringing your eyes back to Murphy. “Okay, do you want me to look in one of the older files? This was the most recent intel from a few months ago.”

Murphy shook his head and sighed. “No, I’ll come down and take a look in a few hours. Gotta update the boss first.” He stood up, glancing one more time between you and Javier, smiling in a way that said “he’s upset right now, best to leave him alone”.

You nodded, holding the file tight to your chest as you walked back to the hallway that led to your archives room. He would tell you if he needed you.

A few hours later, sitting at your desk and taking notes, you glanced up to find Javier standing in the doorway watching you. He looked tired but smirked and stepped into the room. “I’ve been here for a few minutes and you didn’t notice.”

“Sorry, I was taking down some information that was left by one of the girls. Do you need something?” You felt breathless, hoping he would close the door and ask something personal like he would in your bed. He had been so careful the past few months that there really was a separation that you had asked for initially.

“I’m here in place of Murphy. He asked me to grab the files you two talked about earlier?” He looked around the room, not avoiding you but not intent on keeping your focus. He was distracted, thinking about how the rest of his weekend would go.

“Oh, right. Let me just see here.” You stood, tapping the table lightly with your fingers as you thought about where the older files were. You moved your ladder over, taking a step up and reaching for a smaller box.

The door shut behind Peña and he lowered his voice. “I’m uh-I have to take care of work tonight. I have to bring that asshole's wife back to Miami so he will talk to us and I am going to be gone for a few days.” He was nervous, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and glancing up at you. “I’m sorry I am telling you here but I didn’t want to just go and not tell you and I don’t think I will have time to see you before.”

You looked at him, stepping down from the ladder and smiling. “That’s okay Javi, I understand.”

He felt the breath leave him quickly, and he reached out to your desk for support. Did you call him Javi? At work? He had been so careful, keeping his distance from your archives and keeping the door open when he had to see you. He wanted to see you more but knew you didn’t want to jeopardize anything. “Maybe you can go out with Susan and Amy or something and I’ll give you the key to my place?” He whispered, feeling like the offer was the right move. Have fun with your friends but come back to me even if I am not there.

You chuckled, shuffling through the file box.” I don’t think so, you know what happened last time.” You hadn’t gone out since that night, explaining as vaguely as possible to Susan and Amy what happened. They never asked you again, rather having a girl’s night in or gossip session at your place.

Pena smirked, hiding his irritation at never finding Roberto (he was a DEA agent for Christ’s sake and he couldn’t track down one asshole?) “The sex after you scared me half to death was worth it.”

You laughed, glancing behind him to the doorway that was currently closed. “I might go out, but just to be with the girls, not to drink. I know where you keep your key, maybe I’ll do a load of dishes for you.” You felt yourself heat up as you spoke, embarrassed that you were willing to do domestic things for him while he wasn’t there.

A full smile plastered on his face, and a light chuckle breathed out. “That is very nice of you mi luz,” He said, looking at the shoes you were wearing today and back up to your face. You were likely going to be walking today. “I’ll be back on Saturday, hopefully before lunch. Will I find you in my bed or should I go to yours?”

It was like he was purring, and it made you squirm. “If you want me to stay at yours to watch your apartment, then I can.”

“That’s not why I want you there, but if that is what will get you there then I’ll take it.” He laughed, grabbing the handle to the door and swinging it open. “I’ll call you.” He winked, glancing out into the hallway and seeing it was clear before running back into the room and grabbing your face. You seemed more relaxed recently, and was willing to risk your fury for a kiss. “Just a quick one, cielo.”

He pecked your lips twice, then kissed you for a little longer on the last one before running away, file in hand for Murphy and chuckling at how your eyes were the size of saucers. You cleared your throat, feeling blood rush to your face as you busied yourself at your desk. Once he was clear of the hallway, footsteps no longer heard, you reached into your second drawer and pulled out the “Spanish to English” translation book that Javier got you as a joke a couple months ago, thumbing through to the dog-eared pages to find the words.

Mi luz: My light

Mi cielo: My heaven

Instead of going out, you headed straight for Peña’s place, knowing he had a couple movies you could watch while doing some dishes that you had left at his place a couple nights ago. There was no way he had cleaned it up since he was so busy with this most recent issue.

It didn’t take long for you to do dishes, and you figured that his couch was more comfortable than yours so you sat down to finish the movie you had put in when you first got there. Just as you sat down his home phone rang, making you glance at its spot on the kitchen wall. Was it smart to answer his phone? What if it was his family and a girl was answering and he didn’t want them to know? He did say he would call…

You were caught in your thoughts for so long that the ringing stopped, and you thought you were in the clear until it rang again. Sighing, you stood up and hesitantly picked it up. “Hello?”

“Cariño-it 's me.” Javi sounded out of breath, struggling even, on the other end of the line.

“What’s wrong?” You wrapped your fingers around the cord, nervously looking up toward the door.

“I-well. I need to hear your voice. I wasn’t sure if you would be there yet but you didn’t answer your phone after the fourth ring…I'm going to be home later tonight.” He still sounded out of breath, trying to act normal.

“What happened?” you pushed. “Javi you sound like you just ran a mile, why aren’t you on a plane?”

“I fucked up baby, and now I don’t need to go to Miami. Are you staying at my place? Will you be there when I get there?”

You nodded your head, reaching out to the counter to support yourself. “Yes, Javi, I'll be here. Do you want me to stay awake? Can I do anything right now?”

He was trying to not panic through the phone, but the relief he felt that you were on the other end of the line calmed him enough to quiet his voice in the airport bathroom. “Just-fuck. I fucking lo– I’ll be back before you’re asleep I think. I’ll bring food-”

“No, honey I’ll have food ready for you. Is everything okay? Really I need you to answer me.” You were scared. He had never done this before and the way he was talking through the phone made your concern increase. There had been plenty of weekends where he had to travel to find a cartel in a jungle or to fly to the States, but he always returned and would call you to visit him on Sunday night, wanting just a minute with you. You overlooked how you called him honey.

He didn’t miss it, and it made him take another breath. “Everything is okay, I just don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He felt small admitting this on the phone to you. “I’m heading your way soon. There’s cash in the drawer next to the silverware to order takeout if you want hermosa. I’ll see you soon.”

You had changed out of your clothes, running home and grabbing a bag and running back, convinced you would miss him and that he would worry. You both ended up living very close together, but if you walked at your leisure it would have taken 30 minutes one way. Breathless, you started cooking something easy so that there would be leftovers for him but so that you could eat something while you waited for his return. You were still jittery, nervous about what he meant by not knowing how much longer he could do this.

You were halfway through putting cheese on some bread to pop in the oven when you heard him slide his keys into the lock of his front door. You looked around the corner of the wall from the island, seeing his shoulders come into view as he threw his keys on the coffee table, locking the door behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with you and you saw it-the worry in between his eyebrows, the tilt of his eyes. “What happened, Javi?”

He deflated, ripping his jacket off and into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and setting you on the counter. His head was hidden in your shoulder as he breathed deeply, working up the courage to tell you of his failure. “I was supposed to bring her to Miami to see her husband, but he’s dead. He was killed as we were getting on the plane.”

You paused, bringing your hands up to the nape of his neck and doing your best to soothe him. He pushed further into you, his breath catching. “That isn’t your fault.”

He let out a gust of air, tears coming to his eyes as he gripped your hips tighter. “Everything goes wrong all the time and I don’t think I can keep doing this.” He clutched to you, willing you to understand. How could he keep being at the root of all this chaos?

You pet the back of his head, rubbing in between his shoulders and quietly cooing at him as he continued to cry. “It’s okay Javi, we can just relax tonight. I have food–”

“It isn’t okay!” He exclaimed, bringing his eyes to yours and grabbing at your face to make you look at him. “I’ve hurt so many people in the process of catching these assholes in a country that doesn’t even give a shit–”

“Listen to me.” You grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes were already swollen and red-rimmed with tears. “You can do what you want about leaving, but don’t think for a second that this is your fault. One way or another people were going to get hurt, whether or not you were in the position you are in now. You have done what you can to do what needs to be done and if you need to remove yourself from all of this then you’re allowed to do that.”

He watched you speak, waited for you to finish, and sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He couldn’t believe that you were here for him right now, soothing him, cooking for him. He saw your bag that was in the hallway when he first arrived and he hoped you weren’t planning on leaving-he couldn’t be alone. “Okay.” I love you. “You’re right, we should just relax. Why didn’t you order takeout?” Thank you for cooking for me. “I told you where the money was.” Don’t leave me.

You smiled, patting his shoulder. “I thought pasta would be easier.”

He leaned back, glancing down at your lips and giving you a quick peck. “Will it be okay to leave it unattended for a minute?” He asked, fingers dancing along your hips and pushing the shirt you were wearing up. “I have an appetizer in mind.”

You let out a giggle, spreading your legs more and leaning back on your hands. “Let me set the timer for the bread and see if we can beat it?” You knew this was a distraction, and all you wanted was to make him happy.

He smiled, pulling at his tie and kicking off his shoes. “Better hurry cariño, I’ll start without you.” He disappeared into his bedroom, taking off his shirt first and hearing you laughing as you reached for his timer. Hearing your laugh made him smile, his hands coming to the button of his jeans as you walked into the room. He grabbed at you, growling playfully to hear you giggle again and falling onto the bed with you in a heated kiss.

His movements were frantic, reaching into your shorts and finding you already wet for him. “Mi luz you’re already drenched. All for me?”

His breath was heavy on your neck, your hands finding purchase in his hair and messing up his gelled waves. You flipped back to the same page in that translation book in your head and smiled. “For you, always.”

He groaned, ready to sob at the thought that you were only his. He could always admit to you his feelings when he was buried inside you, but were you able to do the same? His hands retreated, grabbing at the waistband and helping you shimmy out of the shorts and underwear, spreading your legs and inhaling deeply.

Your legs tingled as he grabbed at them, spreading you apart and making eye contact with you as he leaned down with the tip of his tongue, connecting with your clit. With barely any pressure, he circled it, keeping your attention as he squeezed your inner thighs.

He groaned, closing his eyes as his tongue dipped down to your entrance and in, reaching inside you and back out, spreading your wetness. He did this over and over again, silently listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm as his beard and mustache got wet. He turned his head and kissed each thigh, letting you feel how wet you were, his facial hair dragging on your skin. Your legs shook with need, reaching down and grabbing at the top of his head making him smirk. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes-please keep going.” You were quick to respond, pulling his head closer to you and watching his tongue reach back out to your clit. You didn’t notice his hand slide up your thigh as he moved two fingers around where you made a mess, sinking them into you and holding you open for him.

“Have a timer we have to beat don’t we?” He mumbled, suddenly sucking your bud into his mouth and smirking at how you jumped.

“Maybe 15 minutes left on the clock.” You whispered, leaning your head back and sighing deeply.

“Plenty of time, baby.” He groaned into you, pulling you closer to him as you started to squirm away, fingers rhythmically pushing into you, looking up to see your throat exposed, blush creeping up slowly as your breathing increased. “I think we will even have time to spare won’t we?”

“Y-yes.” You looked back down at him, brown eyes already on you and tilting up in a smile and you felt a rush of confidence. “You look amazing like this, mi vida.”

Javier felt his world stop, watching the smirk grow on your face into a smile and then into a whimper, biting your bottom lip as you grew anxious with the continued pumping of his fingers. He pulled away, face messy with your wetness, and paused his fingers still inside you. “What did you say?”

You hesitated, wanting to laugh at how shocked he was but also suddenly nervous. Did you say it wrong? “Uh, mi vida? Is that the right-”

“I’m your soul?” He choked, feeling tears come to his eyes again. When did he become such a crybaby? “Do you mean that?”

Your eyes softened, looking down at his hand still inside you, and pushed your hips down further onto them. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Javi. Do you say things you mean?”

He couldn’t speak, just staring at you as you unintentionally bucked your hips and whined, watching your eyes race between his own and his hand. “I mean every word I say to you.” He groaned, pulling his fingers out of you even though you sighed in protest, leaning up to be at eye level with you. “You’ve been reading that book, haven’t you?”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and widening your legs for him to slot between them. “I have pages marked so I can refresh my memory when you say something.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, pausing as you let him explore your mouth, cradling your face in his hand. He hiked your legs up around his waist, pulling back to watch your face as he sunk into you. “So you know then-” he groaned, holding your hip still as he started a slow rhythm. “You know that you’re the light in my life?” He pushed hard into you, wanting to hear your breath catch for a moment. “That you’re my everything?”

You smiled, loving the feeling of him inside you. You felt your throat catch when you went to respond, instead moaning and reaching up and grabbing what hair you could at the nape of his neck.

“Answer me.” He demanded, picking up speed at the pull of your fingers in his hair, wanting to feel you pull harder.

“Yes.” Absolutely breathless. “You’re my everything too, Javi.”

He closed his eyes, feeling like he was losing his mind. He continued to pump into you, leaning himself back to watch as he disappeared into you again and again. “You look absolutely filthy like this baby. You take me so well, such a good girl. Mine, aren’t you?”

You preened, nodding at his question and grabbing onto his arms for support as you felt your release begin. You couldn’t control yourself around him anymore, always enjoying your time with him and then losing yourself before you even had a chance to pull in the reins. He enjoyed watching you lose control, vaguely hearing the timer in the kitchen as you cried out. He was close too, falling over the edge after watching you in bliss, stuttering his thrusts inside of you.

When you both caught your breath, he stood on wobbly legs, laughing and running to the kitchen to turn off the oven and stovetop. When he returned, half soft and hair a mess, he watched as you sat up, eyes glazed over in relaxation. You smiled at him, reaching out your hand for him to join you.

He sat next to you, leaning into your neck to kiss you lightly. “I can’t stay with the DEA but I want to stay with you.” He swallowed roughly, feeling that he needed to explain more but wanted you to already know.

You looked at him, tilting your head and sighing. “Then leave the DEA. You’ll still have me-I’ll be here.” You knew. He was at the end of his rope with this job, and you would be there to support him.

He chuckled, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “Well mi luz, then you’re stuck with me.”

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