Headcanons For DCA Hanahaki Edition

Headcanons for DCA ✨Hanahaki Edition✨

Starting off with Reader getting Hanahaki bc I still need to organize my thoughts about the possibility of the DCA getting Hanahaki.

The reader starts off working all the odd jobs around the Pizzaplex not really making contact with the DCA until they get shifted to the daycare as a spare hand as the Pizzaplex was still growing in popularity

Sun immediately takes to the reader when they help out much more than all other assistants and is generally kind and understanding with both them and the children

Eventually you grow closer and one night you propose a sleepover! You'd seen old posters in the backrooms of a moon like character that seemed to be in charge of nap time so naturally you were very curious about what happened to Moon, hoping you'd get the chance to look for him while Sun was charging.

After a very firm absolutely not and a nervous avoidance for an explanation you're shushed out of the daycare that night. Unfortunately he shushed you out without your card to clock out for the day.

Flabbergasted you make your way to the exit before noticing just when the lights turn off and you hear metallic scrapping and faint screeching coming from the daycare

Moving on you meet Moon he teases the Reader and even gets a little what Reader perceives as flirty. Sun too starts the subtle flirting, but you have to squint. They're far more touchy as time goes on.

Moon opens up and so does Sun. Reader opens up about their life. Everything happy for a bit. Until Vanessa starts working as the new security guard

Vanessa and you start off... fine. Sun gets closer to her even saying to you that she can light up a room when she enters. Moon however distances from you and becomes closer to Vanessa. His tendencies for violence get worse.

They slowly quit being so touchy even when you're alone.

There's an incident where he catches you after hours getting something you left.

You catch him and Vanessa talking and laughing with one another. In their own world until you start coughing and he hunts you down. He tells you to leave. now. You grow incredibly angry and leave. He hears you sobbing once you're out of the building. That's when the flowers came.

You fall to your knees only just outside the pizzaplex. Blood and petals? No. No. This couldn't be happening. You pulled fresh petals from your mouth and cry harder.

The next three days you call out from work. Sun is gravely worried. He tries to reach Moon in their shared headspace, but only finding static.

You return pale but smiling that doesn't reach your eyes. You spent three days looking for options including surgery to remove the flowers but forgetting them entirely, injections that would work as weed killer but removing your capacity to love, or just move on.

You would try to move on. After all you're getting paid well but not well enough for complex surgery

Sun and Moon are trying to figure out why you're being so curt.

Until they notice a little leftover blood from your frequent visits to the bathroom on your collar. Barely noticable unless you're looking for it for anyone else.

They decide to give you space upon Suns insistent bellowing of your boundaries and how you would tell your best friend when you were ready somehow pushing through the static between them.

You notice Vanessa backing off but the flowers kept growing. You cough more and more and grow weaker. Sun finally confronts you after finding complete white carnations in the bathroom soaked in blood and spit at the end of a shift.

ENDING 1 (Good Ending)

You try to say nothing, but he pushes and pushes. Eventually you break down and tell him everything. Sun is furious with Moon for not saying anything about that night.

They reassure you they love you and

BOOM CURED time to fix Moon bc Vanessa put in the virus to make him Bad™ and that's not good!

ENDING 2 (Complicated Ending)

You tell him he apologizes and doesn't know how to respond. you barely above a whisper say "i should have known better than to love a robot that can't feel anything." You run away in shame.

Those words cut deep, but nothing cuts deeper than transforming into Moon mid thoughts allowing him to take over and see what Sun was thinking!!

He runs after you reassures you his little mouse he would always love you and gets super possessive and reassures you he'll take care of you.

You get better! The lights have been off for a while but your cant bring yourself to care right now. Then you care turn on the lights and team up with Sun to destroy the virus that's making Moon scare you a lot and be possessive you've been at the Pizzaplex 3 days and he freaked when you said you wanted to leave.

You defeat the virus together and Sun comes around to loving you through the experience completely killing the disease Yay!

ENDING 3 (ANGSTTTT Ending)

You don't tell them. They get mad and you get mad. You yell until you're sobbing coughing up almost a whole bouquet and the flowers are almost black because you're closer to death.

You pass out. They dont return your feelings they know your condition they say they do it makes you worse. They schedule you the surgery that makes you forget. They wire the money required from the company to you.

You're taken in for emergency surgery. Sun and Moon realize they do have feelings for you! They feel worse. They work out their issues with Vanessa and the virus. While the surgery goes on.

You return to work introducing yourself all over again.

This time they treat you as they should and you fall in love all over again.

Okay I'm done I hope y'all like it! This took me a couple hours to compile I love the angst potential. I might write one on if the DCA gets Hanahaki? Idk yet

SO ANOYONE WANNA TELL ME WHY THERE IS BARELY ANY HANAHAKI FICS FOR THE DCA BOYS?????

Like listen- I'm not the biggest fan of angst. It's not really my cuppa tea, y'know? But I LOVE the hanahaki disease trope in fanfiction. It's the one piece of angst I will always be willing to cry for! But I just realized that there is so little of it for the DCA boys in x reader fics, and I'm just over here like: D:> !?

Like- IT'S SUCH A GOOD TROPE AND HARDLY ANYONE IS TAKING THE OPPERTUNITY TO USE IT IN THE DCA FANDOM!!! All my writing buddies out there- PLEASE write Hanahaki disease fics for DCA x Reader, I don't do fanfiction and I can barely write as is. I will literally kiss you if I find you wrote some.

Sincerely

Your gay little mouse

Enough said

This blog is a safe space.

Nazis, TERFs, pedophiles, bigots, Tr*mp supporters, Islamophobes, exclusionists, queerphobes, and anyone who can’t reblog this post, etc, do not interact. I will block you.

Listennn Mario is a soft boy soft man there is no way he's hardcore he's like a puppy

Wtf, why do I always make Mario so damn SOFT???

Girlboss x Malewife

THANK YOUUU I'll for sure tag you or reblog again once I figure out how I would do that AU. I saw your post and I've been thinking the same thing!! I love the concept of Hanahaki!! I wish we had sm more content in every fandom!! I might flesh these ideas out into a fic I'll send it to you if I do end up writing it 😘

SO ANOYONE WANNA TELL ME WHY THERE IS BARELY ANY HANAHAKI FICS FOR THE DCA BOYS?????

Like listen- I'm not the biggest fan of angst. It's not really my cuppa tea, y'know? But I LOVE the hanahaki disease trope in fanfiction. It's the one piece of angst I will always be willing to cry for! But I just realized that there is so little of it for the DCA boys in x reader fics, and I'm just over here like: D:> !?

Like- IT'S SUCH A GOOD TROPE AND HARDLY ANYONE IS TAKING THE OPPERTUNITY TO USE IT IN THE DCA FANDOM!!! All my writing buddies out there- PLEASE write Hanahaki disease fics for DCA x Reader, I don't do fanfiction and I can barely write as is. I will literally kiss you if I find you wrote some.

Sincerely

Your gay little mouse

👀👀👀👀👀👀

AHHHHHHHHHHHH ITS SO SWEET

Hii! So I'm here to make a request, you can totally ignore this if you don't like it, I just really like your writing and wanted to pass this idea to you ♡

It's a angsty with happy ending story, hope you like it ♡

So the idea is that Joel and reader (established relationship) are kinda new in Jackson, but Joel being Joel is not very used to being there yet, so he doesn't tell anybody that he is in a relationship with reader bc he is scared that they think he is weak or smth, and totally ignores her outside of their home, so reader obviously feels insecure, but our lovely Joel makes her feel better at the end of the day.

thank you, love!! hope you enjoy this❤️

new territory—Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 1k

You went into this situation with Joel without having any sort of expectations. In an outbreak, there aren’t many expectations to be had. So you simply settled for the comfort of another human being.

It grew by accident, really; tentatively, till you were both overwhelmed by the need to be close to each other, and eventually, it became some sort of mutual understanding that Joel was your protector. And, whenever you could, you protected him, too.

By not breaking his already fragile heart.

You took care of each other and looked after each other, and some nights you sought solace in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled in a fit of ecstasy. Sometimes it was something primal, rough and fast, other times it was impossibly languid and caring.

Upon your arrival in Jackson, the little town Joel’s younger brother Tommy put together, things were the same between the two of you.

Until they weren’t.

The moment Joel stepped outside the door, you became a stranger. You were surprised by the shift in behavior, to say the least. Whenever you tried to approach the subject in private, Joel either shut down or distracted you. You began to think maybe it was all in your head, or perhaps a matter which had nothing to do with you.

But when you were at the bar one evening, grabbing a drink with Tommy and his wife, Maria, you became certain that Joel was purposefully being cold towards you. Barely any eye contact, no touch of any sort, laser-focused on whatever Maria was saying to the group.

Your heart sank in your chest. While there weren’t any definitions to be given to whatever resided between you and Joel, you still liked to think that there was mutual respect and care involved, certain feelings—although not voiced yet.

“I think I’ll call it a night,” you announced, standing up.

Joel’s eyes shot to you, surprised by your reaction.

“Are you sure?” Maria checked with you. “It’s still quite early.”

“I’m sure. I’m a bit exhausted. Thank you for the drinks. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow,” Tommy wished you.

You didn’t glance at Joel; you just wanted to get home, curl under the blanket and stay there. How foolish of you… perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. Perhaps this was all in your head indeed, and you assigned more meaning to the situation. And now you were rushing to get to the so-called home, the one you shared with Joel and Ellie. It seemed the suffering was never-ending.

You heard your name called out in the background, but you dismissed it. You felt your eyes stung with tears, and you only hoped no one would remark your distress. You were at least thankful no one could see or hear the way your heart ached, practically wept, at the realization that you had gotten too emotionally attached to Joel when all he did was simply find relief.

“Stop, please,” Joel called to you.

“I just wanna go home, Joel.”

“Let me explain.”

You stopped in the middle of the road, turning around slowly. Joel was almost out of breath, his face red and riddled with regret at the same time. Worst of all, it hurt him to see you this disappointed and angry.

“Explain why? Why you’re ashamed of me? Or ashamed of being seen with me?”

“I’m not ashamed of—“

“You won’t even look at me, you won’t touch me unless we’re locked inside the house. You can see why I might think you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed to be with you.”

“Then what is it?! Because I’m sitting there, watching Tommy stare at Maria like she’s the only thing in the world for him and I just… it hurts, Joel. It hurts to know that I care more than you do.”

“I care about you. A lot.”

He was standing far too close to you, reaching for your hands to take in his as your vision gets blurrier due to the tears.

“I never asked you anything, I didn’t ask you or even expect you to feel anything for me, but I just wish this wasn’t all in vain or some cheap thrill.”

“Listen to me. I’m—I’m sorry if you felt like I could ever be ashamed of you, or us. I’m not. I just…”

He took a deep breath, contemplating, gathering his thoughts.

“I only acted that way because I felt uncomfortable with all the people starin’ at ‘Tommy’s big brother and his girl. I don’t like ‘em staring. I thought if I kept some distance, they wouldn’t annoy you with questions or stares or jokes.”

You frowned. “Why would they joke or have questions?”

“Tommy has a good reputation ‘round here. Me, on the other hand… I’m sort of the black sheep. People got a lot to say. I didn’t want you in the middle of it.”

You caressed his hands into yours, oddly touched by the confession.

“I don’t think you’re the black sheep,” you told him. “I think you’re a great man who’s been through hell and back.”

“I did horrible things. Things you don’t know about. Killed people.”

“We all did terrible things to survive.”

You were grazing his cheek with the palm of your hand, and were surprised to see Joel close his eyes at the touch, leaning into it.

“But caring for someone doesn’t make you weak, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you learned that lesson with Ellie.”

Joel gulped, nodding solemnly. You suppressed a fond chuckle.

“I really am sorry,” he muttered.

“Next time you just talk to me. You know I’m here for you if you let me.”

“I do, I know.”

Then your lips stretched into a smile. “So… I’m your girl?”

Joel shook his head nervously, a grin on his face.

“I could make it up to my girl if she’d let me,” he teased.

“I think she’d like that.”

Yeah this was incredibly steamy and throughout I had to pause bc AHHHHHHH it's so so well written!! Also I read this in public and every time I looked up and saw someone reacting to my faces I have to be like-

carry out

javier peña x afab!reader

summary: javier’s messy way of dealing with business causes the two of you to work late. he offers to buy you carry out to apologize for making you stay late (and, more reluctantly, for making you miss the date you had planned). then he offers something else to make it up to you.  warnings: 18+ content mdni, smut [oral sex (f receving), unprotected piv], soft!javi, smiley!javi, sassy!reader, praise kink (for both reader and javi), javi likes to please, pet names (chiquita, baby, querida, sweetheart, angel), lots of uses of the word ‘fuck’, might be a little ooc?, no use of y/n. word count: 5k-ish?

inspired by carry out by timbaland

---

The last time you looked out the windows of the U.S. embassy, the sky was fading from blue to a pale orange. Now, when you peek up from the mountain of paperwork in front of you, the stars are the only thing visible, everything else bathed in darkness.

You can't remember the last time you actually went home on time from your job as a secretary. It had to be before Peña and Murphy started working here. With them around, your overtime hours stretched longer and longer. 

It’s for a good cause, you remind yourself. Because, truly, it is. Catching the Narcos is top priority. It’s just hard to remember that when you’re drowning in paperwork and have to cancel the plans you had made a week ago for this shit.

“Look, I’m really sorry again. It’s still crazy over here,” you apologize into the plastic transmitter for the second time this evening, twirling the curly wire around your finger. The first time you called your date was a couple hours ago when you had to relay the unfortunate state of your situation: multiple things to do and not nearly enough hours in the workday to do them. Thus, staying overtime.

“No worries. We can go out tomorrow instead.”

You smile, “Thanks, Michael. That sounds great.”

You hang up the phone and the moment it hits the switch, your expression transforms into a deep frown. You send the most withering glare you can manage to the only man left in the room and the cause of all your problems: Javier fucking Peña. If looks could kill, yours would, but unfortunately, they cannot. And Javier doesn’t even seem to notice, his nose buried in his own respective papers. The hard line of his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes, the skin between his brows pinched in a way that makes you itch to smooth it out. Not for his benefit, but for your own, because it is awfully infuriating.

His normally perfectly coiffed hair is curling over his forehead, ruffled a bit at the edges as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it, and one hand twirls a pen between his fingers while the other is pushed up against his temple. Seems like the long hours are getting to him, too. 

Good.

“Michael again, huh?” Javier comments, still staring down at his documents. His pen scribbles on a notepad. “He’s… clingy.”

You staple a few papers together, and if the stapler clamps down a bit harder than you mean it to, you can hardly be at fault for that.

“If that’s clingy, I worry about the women you’ve been with. They probably thought you hated them.” You retort, not looking up. 

“Quite the opposite, angel.”

Arrogant bastard, your mind supplies. 

You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a response, focusing instead on the work in front of you. And you want to scream. Or cry maybe. Because this is literally all his fault. 

If it weren’t for the shit he bothered you with earlier, and the multiple times he interrupted Ambassador Noonan, you wouldn’t be here trying to play catch up—rescheduling all the meetings she had to miss and filing reports for the classified information Javier “stole” from the files room, to which you did not give him permission to take, but still received shit for anyway. 

And, of course, you received shit for “letting” him in. Which you did not do! He had just waltzed in, hours after you had told him multiple times that he was not allowed in and that you were not allowed to let him in. 

You glare at him again, and this time he’s looking at you, a single dark eyebrow raised. 

You’d quite like to strangle him. 

“You gonna tell me what these looks mean or am I just supposed to guess?” He asks, bemused. 

“I’m mad at you,” you grit.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

The papers in your hold crumple as your fingers tighten. You can hear your molars grinding against each other as you try to hold back your anger. This fucking asshole—! 

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes. It is.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “Look, we really needed to get that information and I already said—“

You interrupt him again with a barely concealed snarl. “Sure, right. You’re sorry, and you needed it, but I’m always the one that has to deal with the fallout, while you go prance about and fuck whores and get congratulations. And now we’re here late and I had to cancel my date and I’m so behind.” You bury your face into your palms with a groan of exasperation.

You peek through your fingers to glare at Javier again only to notice... is that …guilt reflecting in his brown eyes? Gods above, you didn’t think he was capable of feeling that emotion, or any, for that matter.

(You know he is. There had been a few times at the local bar with Steve, or in the parking lot after a late shift when he had shown the other side of him. When he’d talk about his family, or life back in the States, you saw something other than a flirtatious smirk or a tense look on his face. Something softer. Warmer. It was…disarming. And terribly addicting.) 

Even so, this whole situation is because of him, so you push away the instinctual urge to forgive him just to wipe that look off his face.

Javier stands, straightening his papers and shoving them in a manila folder stamped with the word “CLASSIFIED” on top. You drop your gaze back to your work, trying to drown out the sound of him packing up.

Yeah. Fine. You go home, while I’m stuck here. 

You’re almost able to read the words swimming in front of you when you’re interrupted by Javier leaning over your desk on his elbows, his leather jacket stretching audibly over his broad shoulders. He drops your coat down next to him on the polished mahogany and you tilt your head to regard him with suspicion, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue.

He beats you to the punch. 

“Are you even getting anything done anymore?” He asks, gesturing to your papers. You’ve reread the same paragraph about five times by now, you think. 

“Actually, yes—“

He rudely interrupts you with a crooked grin. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You’re terrible at it.” He taps your coat with two fingers. “Come on.”

“But I’m not done y—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupts, again. “I want to get out of here and you need to get out of here. Seriously. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay for it to make up for my shitty behavior.”

You stare at him in genuine surprise, jaw slack. “Wow, the Javier Peña can actually admit when he fucks up? I’m in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete ass.”

“That’s debatable.” 

He frowns. “Do you want food or not?”

“Are you threatening to go back on your word? That’s low even for you, Peña. I’m pretty sure when you’re in debt to someone you’re supposed to be treating them with respect—“

He grumbles and turns for the door. “Never mind about the empanadas, then.”

Your chair audibly screeches over the tile flooring as you jump up, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Wait! I’m coming.”

You try your damn best to ignore the amused smile on his face that, to your chagrin, makes him look rather handsome as you follow him out to his Jeep Cherokee.

“If I had known food won you over so easily I would’ve used that a long time ago.” He jokes as he turns the car on. You buckle yourself in.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to be so eager next time. I’m only accepting this because I was deprived of my meal tonight.” 

He pulls out onto the road. 

“Sorry you didn’t get to have a date full of awkward pauses and subpar food, sweetheart.” 

You scoff at his audacity. "Goes to show how much you know about enjoying something other than sex with a woman."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date," he insists, glancing at you.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you're terrible at it," you echo his words from earlier back at him with a saccharine smile.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a moment, he finally speaks again, tone genuinely sincere. “I hope you know I really am sorry for everything and making you stay late."

It takes you by surprise, and you meet his stare. His brown eyes look almost black in the darkness. A shiver travels up your spine. 

His eyes should be illegal.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if I forgive you after my food.” 

He chuckles at that, “Okay.”

Eventually he pulls the Jeep into the parking lot of your favorite local place (how did he know?) and then you’re standing in line to order. It’s ten at night and somehow there is still a line. Well, it is your (and everybody else’s) favorite for a reason. 

Javier manages to convince you to bring your empanadas back to his place. 

“We live right next to each other.”

“All the more reason for me to go home.”

“I have dessert. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

(You really don’t mind it. You just like to give him a hard time.)

So you order carry out.

His keys jangle as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and he sets the containers of carry out on his coffee table. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, and you do the same, trying not to stare at the way the sleeves of his button up stretch tantalizingly over his biceps, nor at the way his strong forearms are on display. 

Listen. He might annoy the fuck out of you, but you can admit that he is quite...attractive.

“Make yourself at home. Want a drink?” He asks, already grabbing two glasses.

“Sure, whiskey is fine. Since I’m assuming that’s all you have.”

“You know me so well.”

You look around his apartment and notice it's sparsely decorated, which makes sense to you, although, it still feels cozy in a way. 

The lamps reflect a gentle warm hue over the barren walls, save for a few government installed abstract paintings. Somehow, compared to your apartment in the same building, his place feels more comfortable. 

There’s a hand-knitted afghan sitting over the back of his couch and you twist the fraying yarn between your fingers as you admire the handiwork. 

“My abuela made that, before she died.” Javier says gently, handing you a glass of whiskey. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah. She was really talented. This was the only thing I wanted to take with me from the States.” He takes a sip from his glass. 

“Did she knit a lot?”

He nods. “All of the time, it felt like. Can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her in a rocking chair, a ball of yarn at her feet.” He muses, and these are the moments with Javier that you crave. You wish you had more of them. The way he softens when he gets that damned smile on his face… the way the crows' feet around his warm brown eyes deepen... It's, as you said before, terribly addicting.

You smile gently. “Where’s all her work now?”

“With my dad. He hardly let me go with this.” 

You chuckle, and then Javier’s gesturing to the couch. 

“Come on.”

You follow him over to the couch and he settles down into the cushions with a sigh, resting an arm lazily across the back. You sit perched awkwardly on the end. All of a sudden, the room feels too small. It smells like him, like tobacco and sage and… man. 

You’re finally realizing how close you’ve been to him this entire evening, and your body is certainly realizing it too. 

See, this is why you had a date tonight. 

“Relax,” he tells you.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” he leans forward, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’m not gonna bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoff, but a stubborn flush works its way into your cheeks. “No, ‘course not.”

You grab your container and Javier follows, and soon he’s got the TV on and you’re both enjoying your empanadas with the gentle noise of the Price is Right in the background. You relax into the cushions, your exhaustion encouraging you to do so before your brain can stop you.

It’s nice though. He’s… nice. 

“Hey," Javier eventually mumbles into the space between you. 

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure the guys don’t come after you again for the bad decisions I make."

You roll your head to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s about time I took responsibility for the shitty things I’ve done."

“No truer words have ever been spoken.” You deadpan. It earns you a quiet chuckle, and you smile, turning your attention back to the TV.

You polish off your empanadas, licking the juices and bread crumbs from your fingers, and you think you see Javier watching you raptly out of the corner of your eye, but then you blink and his eyes are on the TV, as if he’d never been looking over at you in the first place. 

Damn, you need to sleep. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “Is this better than the date with Michael would’ve been?” 

You groan dramatically. “Why are you so bothered by him?”

“‘M not.” He says, but it sounds unconvincing even to your ears. “Just curious.”

“Are you jealous, Javi?” You grin into your glass of whiskey, the alcohol pouring warmth into your bloodstream, along with that heady, outlandish, and fleeting thought of him actually being jealous, maybe even possessive over you.

You really need to sleep. 

“‘Course not. Just want to make sure our little secretary is treated right.”

“I’m hardly treated right at work, this guy would probably be a step up from the people that talk to me on a daily basis.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“I especially mean you.”

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the cushions. He levels you with a pleading look, lips in a pout. “Come on, chiquita. When will you forgive me?”

Chiquita. That’s new. 

You tap your chin, glancing about as if in thought, attempting to ignore the giddy feeling curling in your stomach at the pet name. “I dunno…You still haven’t convinced me that you’re truly sorry.” 

Of course he has. You just like to stir the pot.

“No?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically, grinning smugly as you tease him.  “You’re missing the whole groveling and begging on your knees, bit.”

It’s a joke. Seriously. You think he'll just laugh, wave it off, and then you’ll actually forgive him. But that’s not what happens at all. 

Because he’s slowly lowering himself to the floor, all while keeping strict eye contact with you. The air rushes out of your lungs in a single, astonished, harsh exhale. 

“What…what are you doing?” You breathe, because seriously, what the hell is he doing? 

“Groveling. Isn't that what you want, chiquita?” 

He places himself in between your legs, and you really should be pushing him away, but instead your legs spread to make room for him. The movement has his eyes darkening significantly. 

Fuck. What are you doing?

“Javi…” You whisper, eyes wide.

A large, warm hand comes up to grip your right calf, massaging your muscles gently with thick, strong fingers while the other kneads at your left ankle. His lips press up against your leg in a soft kiss. 

“Let me show you how truly sorry I am,” he whispers against your calf, chocolate eyes boring into you. Heat licks at your core in white hot flames. 

Okay. Okay, wait, this is actually a really good way for him to repay you. He had deprived you of potential sex, but now is offering it to you on a silver platter. 

Still, you hesitate, remembering his reputation. 

“Javi, I don’t know… I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.”

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, his voice rough with sincerity. “You’re not. You never will be, you’re so much more than that, querida.” He reassures you, laying another soft kiss against your skin, and a shiver rattles your spine. “Wanna make you feel good…wanna make up for what I did..."

You take a shaky breath, warmth fanning out over your body. 

Fuck, this could either be a really good idea, or a really bad idea that could fuck up your already fucked up work relationship. 

But shit, if you aren’t wet right now…and he really does have some apologizing to do…

“Okay…show me.”

He sighs into your skin, his smile in relief edging on a satisfied smirk. “Thank you, chiquita.” 

And then he’s pushing your pencil skirt up your thighs with his big hands, eyes raptly watching the way your skin is revealed to him, like carefully unwrapping a gift. Soon enough your skirt is pooled around your waist, your throbbing cunt trapped behind the lace of your black panties. Javi sucks in an appreciative breath, eyes scanning every inch of you.

He pulls at the elastic hem of your waistband, then releases, letting it slap against your skin, and looks up at you with barely concealed disdain, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. “These for Michael?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his possessive question sends tingling heat through your core. 

He tsks, squeezing your thigh. Why are his hands so goddamn big? “Now I'm glad I kept you late. He doesn’t deserve to see you like this.”

“Oh like you do?” 

“Chiquita, I know I don’t. Still, who's in between your thighs right now? I bet Michael doesn’t even like to eat pussy.”

“Javi!” You scold, embarrassment traveling up your body. He just smirks.

“That’s certainly not the tone you’re supposed to be using with my name. Let’s fix that.”

He maneuvers his hands to grip your lower back, and he scoots you to the edge of the couch. He inches his fingers beneath your panties and slowly peels them off of you, pupils dilating when he notices the slickness of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile.” You grumble, clenching around nothing at his words. 

“You sure it’s not just because of me?”

“Positive, Peña.”

He leans in, warm breaths puffing over your aching core. “Mm, I love it when you’re mean, baby.” 

And then he’s licking a hot stripe through your folds, and your hands that hold you upright jolt to his dark hair, threading the locks through your fingers. You sink into the couch on a high pitched whimper. “Javi—“

“Yeah, there we go, that’s it,” he hums against you, smiling into your pussy, and the vibrations travel through your spine, sending a wave of pleasure crashing into you. 

His cockiness should make you mad, but all it does is make you crave him more. 

He presses in, licking again, this time into you, and the tip of his curved nose bumps against your aching clit, releasing a wrecked moan from your lips.

“Shit,” you huff, eyes screwed shut as he continues to lap at you. “Remind me next time to ride your face—“

He stops his ministrations to look up at you, pupils blown wide, his glistening mouth curling wickedly. “Next time?”

“We all know men are prone to making mistakes,” you tease. “It’s just a matter of when. And when you do, I'll need another apology."

He goes to respond, but you tug on his soft hair, urging him back into your warmth. Whatever response he has is muffled into your slick, and he’s lapping you up like a man in the desert, moaning graciously. 

You feel him start to pull back, and you open your eyes, glaring down at him. “What are you—“ Your protests fade into a moan when you feel two long, thick fingers slowly slide into you. Your head falls against the back of the couch. 

“I knew you were a brat at work but I didn’t think you’d be the same in bed.” He jokes quietly into your thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. They reach so much farther than yours do, and it feels so fucking good. God, you really needed this. 

“Different from your usual whore, hm?” You quip in between moans. 

“Yeah, I like it though,” he admits. “Could get fuckin’ addicted to your attitude and this pussy.”

You should be embarrassed by the new wave of slick running down his fingers at that, but you’re not. If he claims he could get addicted, you know you already are. You’re craving your next hit and Javi needs to be the one to give it to you. 

He seems to know what you want without you having to say, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit again. 

You slouch into the couch, hips chasing his warm mouth, scooting you toward the edge. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you upright, and you buck into him. You grip his hair, urging him closer to your heat.

You can feel your orgasm building, ebbing and flowing, like the waves of an ocean. Each lick and suck and prod from Javi paired with the skilled way his fingers thrust in and up and out of you feels like a tug from a rip current, threatening to pull you under. 

God damn, he’s good. 

“Fuck—hng—shit, Javi!”

“Mmhmm, taste so good, chiquita.” He moans against you. 

“Mmngh, fuck, need you—your mouth on me all—all the time. So good.”

He sucks on your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jerk, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming, just on the edge of your orgasm. 

“‘m gonna come—Jav—“

He gently scrapes his teeth over your clit and—oh shit. You’re fucking gone.

Your orgasm punches the air out of you, exploding white hot, tingles zipping through your nerve endings. Warmth spreads across you like a roaring wildfire. You hardly register the moans leaking out of you in an endless stream, your body so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Javi’s moaning too, his other hand palming himself through his jeans as he laps up everything you give him. 

Your legs shake as you ride it out, and he gently strokes them as he licks you through your high.  

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he mumbles against your heat. “So fuckin’ good for me. Look so pretty when you come.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick you through the aftershocks.

You tug on his hair, pulling him off of you when you’ve had enough. “Okay…that’s enough, Javi.”

Javier laughs as extracts himself from your legs, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You scoot back to sit properly again, though you're practically boneless against the cushions.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you catch your breath. He smiles at you, his dimple showing, and you smile back at him, your heart jumping in your chest. He looks like he thoroughly enjoyed himself, all ruffled and flushed. His dark hair stands up in multiple directions from your tugging, and his mustache glistens with your arousal. 

He looks so cute. Damn it! 

Angry feelings for Javier were normal. But these…lovey dovey-esque feelings simmering beneath the surface are not. 

You just can’t stay mad at him.

“…’Kay maybe I forgive you now.”

He raises a brow. “Just a ‘maybe’?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to where his cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans, just begging to be freed. “Think I remember you mentioning dessert.”

He follows your line of sight and outright laughs, smiling so wide his eyes actually disappear. Fuck, why is he so cute? “I actually meant that—I have tres leches in the fridge but—mierda, really?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, you might as well actually fuck me at this point.”

“Jesus Christ—okay.”

He pulls you toward his bedroom, but you both get distracted along the way. 

He finds your lips at the entrance to the hallway, pressing you into the wall and kissing you roughly, hands unbunching your skirt to find the zipper, uttering under his breath about how unprofessional the garment is. Once the metal piece is in his fingers, he tugs it down, pulling away to watch your skirt fall to the floor.

He loses his shirt next, at the door to his bedroom, with you scolding him about how you’ll call HR on the amount of skin he dares to show at work. You only unbutton it enough for him to be able to pull it over his head, and then your hands are on him, squeezing the muscles of his arms and scratching lightly over his tan pectorals. You run your fingers up the long valley of his spine as he kisses you, delighting in the way he shudders against you at your touch.

He tugs yours off next, choosing now to bite your neck with a teasing “Guess I do bite”, and running his warm hands along your waist and breasts appreciatively. 

You finally make it into his room and he’s pushing you onto the bed, climbing over you, still clad in his dark, too-tight jeans. Those need to come off. 

“Fuck,” he swears, watching as you unbutton his jeans, tugging the zipper down. Arousal floods through you as you palm him through his briefs, hot and warm and big in your hands. 

“Been thinkin’ about this for a while,” he says, voice rough. He tugs his jeans and briefs off then reclaims his spot over you, leaning down to mouth at your neck. 

“How long,” you whimper, head tilting to allow him access. You shiver at the feeling of his light five 'o clock shadow scraping your neck as he moves up to your ear. He bites gently down on your earlobe.

“Too fucking long.”

Your hand wraps around his thick, warm length, and he jerks, thrusting into your loose fist. He groans, a sound so wrecked it’s like he’s in pain, and you take that as the sign that you need to get things moving.

You direct the head of his cock to your entrance, your gaze catching his own. Heavy eyes framed by thick lashes watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he slowly sheaths himself in you. God you feel so full as he bottoms out, more than you have with anyone else.

“Been wanting this too,” you admit. 

He smirks, “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but then he thrusts into you and they actually roll into the back of your head as he pulses inside you.

“Fuck, Javi.” 

“That’s it, chiquita.” He grips your thigh, pushing it up to gain a new angle. And then he picks up his pace, fucking into you with abandon. It’s like you can feel it in your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. You jerk against the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall rhythmically. How many times have you heard this through the wall being his neighbor just on the other side? And now it’s you in the place of the multiple women he’s had over. And you think, maybe, that he’s enjoying it more with you than he was with them. 

He’s grunting above you, moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he fucks you with all the skill and expertise he’s gained over the many years of fucking his informants. He’s louder than he was when you heard him with the others. 

And you…you’re louder than the many times you got off by yourself just on the other side of the wall. Moans and praises drop out of your lips unfiltered—you just can’t stop.

“That’s it, Javi–yes. So good. Fucking me so well.”

And he’s fucking…loving it. 

You can feel his dick jumping inside you with each compliment, and it sends a new wave of arousal crashing within you each time. 

He’s getting close, but so are you, everything is tightening, a catapult ready to sling you off the deep end.

"Javi—I'm—“

"Yeah, that's it, baby." His hand gravitates down to circle your clit. "Come for me, being so good—you deserve it after today. Come on—“

You deserve it.

That's what fucking gets you.

Heat and fire and light and everything heavenly bursts within you as you come on Javier's cock, muscles spasming as they rejoice in that fact that you're finally getting laid. You're practically screaming, back arching off the bed as you ride the wave.

And Javi's fucking you through it, trying to hold off. But you don’t want him to.

"Come in me, Javi."

“You sure?”

“Please.”

How is he supposed to deny you?

He comes right on command, releasing inside you, and the feeling is euphoric. He's warm and hot as he coats the inside of you, and...shit...

...how are you supposed to live without this?

He collapses next to you, and you both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

You turn on your side to look at him, but he's already watching you. His hand idly traces the inside of your arm.

You think you could get used to this.

"So," he says, dragging out the syllables, "forgive me now?”

You run a hand down his chest in thought.

“Hmm… I think I might need a little more convincing.”

He just grins. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

And then he’s reaching his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss much more sweeter and tender than before, as if this kiss is the real apology, and everything else before was just him buttering you up to prepare you.

If that’s the case, you accept it anyway, because you deserve it. And so does he. And you know he’ll just keep making mistakes—he’s only human, after all.

But at least he has a method to earning your forgiveness.

Oh, and carry out.