#(more to be added on ao3 when i get the time to read it from the beginning) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charliemwrites · 2 months

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Squeeze Me, I Squeak!

While your interactions with Lieutenant Riley started out cold and tense, he's been warming up to your secondary specialty. Apparently, you make for a great stress-toy. (In which Ghost is a brat with authority, but you don't mind. You're a bit of a brat too.)

Original AO3 Link (I posted this a million years ago to AO3 and it was my first ever COD fic, inspired by a Discord chat and Badjhur audios. I figured it's about time I added it to the Tumblr masterlist for ease.)

Content: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fraternization (therefore power imbalance), Medical Care (non-descriptive), Body Piercings, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

It starts with one simple catalyst: your cheeks.

You’ve been with the 141 for over half a dozen missions now. Three bullet grazes, two concussions, four sprains, and one nasty cold into your assignment under Captain Price, and quite pleased to be there. He’s a good leader, trustworthy and steadfast, a bastion of experience and skill shielding your unconventional squad from red tape and repercussion.

Time is a little more fluid for you as the combat medic. You’re awake about twice as long as you’re ever asleep. Anxiety tugs you from fitful rest to check on your patients – your boys – if any of them are laid up with more than a dislocation. It makes the days long, nights longer, and you’ve lost track of how many calendar months since you’ve officially been with the task force.

Long enough, though, that you feel like you’ve got a handle on your squad and their personalities.

Captain Price is a grump about medical care. He understands the necessity, but resents the paperwork, time, materials, energy that goes into it. He’s gracious to let you fuss (within reason) and you’re gracious to ignore his old man grumbling. And the cigars.

Gaz is an absolute peach. Sits still, asks for painkillers when he needs them, follows care instructions. The worst he does is whine, but that’s only for the silly little injuries and the occasional flu shot. He’s respectful, sometimes a little bashful, and friendly. He makes you feel welcome, bought you your first drink with the squad after a mission, and generally is a sweetheart.

Soap is fun. A bit rambunctious and fidgety on your table, but he tries, at least. Not as careful as you’d like him to be. He’ll give you a sheepish smile whenever you fuss that he’s pulling his stitches or straining a healing joint. He whines like a banshee over everything except the serious wounds, but paradoxically has to be strong-armed into painkillers for anything. He reminds you a bit of a husky.

His brand of friendliness comes with jokes and teasing, flirtations that he’s careful to never take too far. You’ll indulge him in return sometimes, especially if he’s having a rough go of it, but it’s all in good fun. A lot of your downtime is spent in his and Gaz’s company, chatting about anything and everything, playing video games, or trying (the operative word here) to read. He’s also, unfortunately, the one who came up with your nickname.

Then there’s the lieutenant. You call him “the lieutenant” because you get the impression that he’d toss you out a window if you dared even utter his call sign.

The 141 isn’t your first assignment; you’ve been a combat medic for long enough that you’ve seen the full range of patients in the military. You’re no stranger to the puffed-up hyper-masculine men that practically resent your specialization.

“Like they think I’ll take their Man Card just for getting a plaster,” you’d once commiserated with a fellow medic.

The lieutenant goes a step beyond that. The best you can get out of him on a good day are one-word answers. A good day is if he’s hauling someone else to you. When it’s him that needs the care, well… you two often don’t meet eye to eye. And not just because he’s roughly the size (and build) of a tank.

On your third mission with him, he suffered a knife wound to the hip. You hadn’t been able to judge how deep it was between his gear and his evasiveness and you’d lost your temper.

“Lieutenant Riley, stand fucking still,” you snapped.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he snarled.

And oh, you regretted every word you’d ever spoken in that moment. Had felt, with some certainty, that enemy combatants were not going to be what did you in. Cursed Price a little too, blaming him for this somehow.

But you were tired and a little pissed and had about a million other things to do that weren’t chase after your lieutenant.

“I said standing fucking still,” you dared repeat, raising your voice.

“I’ll have you booked with insubordination so fast, your fucking head will spin,” he growled.

“Medical treatment outranks everyone, sir,” you snapped back, just as fast. You were already snapping gloves on; he was finally still, after all, even if it was to yell at you. “So if anyone can be written up, it’s you.”

“Lass—” Soap tried, but you were already ducking down, eyes narrowed and gauze in hand.

You were relieved to see that it wasn’t too bad. Slathered it with antibiotic and pinched it closed with butterflies, then straightened. It was done in under a minute and you were even more annoyed than before.

“All that for fucking what,” you grumbled to yourself. Not quietly enough, apparently.

“That’ll do,” the lieutenant barked.

The unholy burning in his eyes informed you that you’d pushed your luck far, far enough.

You shut up and skittered off, had not been written up for insubordination, but received a well-meant ‘cool it’ from Price afterwards.

And Lieutenant Riley was… well, he was himself.

He doesn’t make you bitch at him anymore, though – and you would be lying if you weren’t a bit proud of that. By no means is he jumping to get treated, but he comes to you for the serious injuries and obliges if you manage to catch the non-fatal stuff.

It’s not that you hold it against him. Medics are a sore spot for a lot of people, and Lieutenant Riley is more private than the average soldier. He’s never actively rude, at least, apart from that one spat. Gruff and short maybe, but not mean. And you’re quite happy to have that, at least.

Besides, he watches out for you in the field, where it matters. Has literally hauled you to safety by your straps more than once. Ensures you get into exfil before him. You’ve even caught him giving you a quick, assessing check that all your gear was secure and ready.

You and he bicker at each other still, and you don’t always come out victorious. There have been plenty of instances that he’s just marched away from you, long legs carrying him to some dark corner when he won’t entertain your nagging. Still, there’s growing respect between you two, you sense. He’s a solid CO, if much different from Price, confident and competent without being arrogant. And, well, he can be a bit rude (“abrupt” you demur to Soap, who cackles) but not disrespectful.

On his end, you think things change when he gets injured. Again. You don’t know exactly what’s happened, only that he was a little too close to an explosion. The edges of his balaclava are burnt, one damning edge melted to the skin of his neck. The real issue is the deep laceration that’s sliced through the fabric. From what you can see, it starts behind his ear and slashes around his temple to take a sizable chip from the edge of his hard mask.

His bell has been rung enough that he’s silent when Soap drops him on your cot.

You do a concussion test – thank whatever higher powers there might be that he passes – and reassess the situation. He’s bleeding, he’s burnt, his mask is a hindrance. Most other medics would pry the thing off and treat him regardless of his feelings on the matter.

But you’re not any other medic, you’re the 141’s medic. You have candy for Gaz and fidget toys for Soap and carry nicotine patches or gum for Price. Lieutenant Riley hardly even pulls his mask up to drink in front of you still. He doesn’t trust easily (maybe not at all) but you’ve managed not to fuck up this far and you won’t start now.

“Need to take the skull off,” you inform him, “the balaclava can stay.”

His shoulders drop just the smallest micro-fraction. You’ve made the right choice.

He lets you pull the hard mask away, eyes flickering to yours when you set it within his reach. You blink at him, just once, trying to convey that for all your differences and squabbles before, you’re his squad-mate, his medic, and you’re on his side.

Then you turn to the bleeding.

“Going to cut a bigger hole,” you warn.

You don’t know if he’s listening, if he cares, if he’d prefer you to be quiet. You do this for Gaz and Soap, and you’ll do it for him until he tells you otherwise.

The surgical scissors make a perfect, neat line through the fabric. Blood stains dirty blond hair beneath your gloves, flattening the curls. It’s a nasty wound, deep enough that it’ll need stitches. You tell him as much as you clean it, efficient without being rough. You don’t coddle your boys; they don’t need it. The kindest thing you can do is always to just get it over with.

As you numb his skin and prep the sutures, you begin explaining the care instructions. It’ll cut down the amount of time he’ll have to hang around after you’ve finished treatment.

You fall quiet as you start stitching him up, bottom lip between your teeth to focus on speed and accuracy. On your little rolling stool, you’re trying not to loom over his prone form. Plenty of soldiers have bad reactions to being leaned over like this, and you’d expect it from any of the 141.

Your hand is starting to cramp by the time you get to the sharp cheekbone where the injury ends, but it’s done – possibly in record time. As you sit back to check your work, you catch his eye. His gaze is so heavy that you’re shocked you didn’t feel its weight this whole time. There’s an odd glint to it, the calmest you’ve ever seen from him. Especially on your medical cot.

“All good, sir?” you ask.

“Affirmative.”

“The burn now.”

You don’t touch him, just direct his head at a good angle to treat his neck. You have to numb that too, see more of the tension drain from him when it takes effect. Christ, you hadn’t even noticed. He’s like a statue sometimes, bearing wounds that would have most other people in shambles.

“Burns are the worst,” you agree. “I hate getting them, hate treating them.”

“There anything you like treating?” he grumbles.

You hum. “Common cold. All you big boys get sleepy and nasally and pathetic.”

There’s a little puff of air that you recognize from comm banter with Soap – he’s amused. You’ve managed to get something like a laugh out of him. Buoyed by this, you proceed with the delicate process of treating melted fabric.

“Pathetic, eh? Tell Johnny you said that.”

“I already told him when he got sick,” you gloat. “He pouted. Might have a picture of it somewhere.”

When you chance to look away from your work, you catch his eye again, peering at you from his peripheral. You flash a grin – a little goofy from the high of a positive reaction – and then turn back.

“That legal?” he asks. “Pictures of patients.”

You arch an eyebrow, knowing he’ll see it. “Are you going to lecture me about GDPR, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Not if it doesn’t become my problem.”

You chuckle a little – heartened by your progress and by his unusual talkativeness. “Hasn’t yet,” you point out.

More likely to be Price’s problem, anyway. Probably.

He lets you fall silent again to concentrate. Despite the severity, the affected area is smaller than you initially thought. It’ll be painful and scar like hell, but no skin grafts are necessary. You report this with obvious relief – good news all around as far as you’re concerned.

When you’re finally done, you scoot your chair back and turn to his (heavily redacted) chart, scribbling out the diagnosis and treatment. As you’re signing your initials, he calls for you by last name, tugging your gaze up.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, already scanning him for other injuries.

“Need one more thing from you.”

You hum in question, folding his chart over. His hand comes up, still gloved.

And then he takes your cheek between thumb and forefinger. And pinches.

Your brain spits static, eyes going wide in shock and confusion. It takes you a beat to respond, and then only because his fingers tighten to the point it starts to ache.

“Ow, Lieutenant—” you complain, still too surprised to really snap, one eye closing to express discomfort.

He releases you, staring at the spot he just grabbed. It’s probably already turning red.

“Anyone ever tell you,” he drawls, slow and measuring, “how round your cheeks are?”

Now you’re red for a different reason. You rub at the skin and scrunch your nose, unsuccessfully telling yourself that you’re not pouting like you joked Soap did.

“No,” you huff, “because most people aren’t dumb enough to say that to their medic.”

Your brain still isn’t working right because there’s no way you’d be implying that Lieutenant Riley is dumb if it was. The most personable you two have gotten before now was him buying you a drink after a mission, but he’d been buying everyone else a drink at the time.

“Not afraid of you, Squeaks.”

“I’m aware, Lieutenant.”

You’re hoping he’ll drop it, a little confused but also a little… flattered? It’s difficult to parse what you’re feeling when he’s still staring at you with those dark, glittering eyes. Not that you’re looking. No, definitely not. In fact, you are doing your damnedest not to look at his eyes. Or his face.

Which is why you notice him tugging his glove off. And then reaching for you – for your face – again.

“Hey—” you start, but he’s already squeezing, just before the point you’d fussed last time.

“Want me to stop?” he asks.

… No.

“Want to know what you’re doin’,” you deflect, brows furrowing.

Why are you letting him do this? You shouldn’t let him do this. It’s not that it hurts. It’s just… principle. Military isn’t an especially touchy-feely cuddly career field. Soap and Gaz are fairly tactile, true, but not… like this. But, well, maybe you’ve missed it. This. Touches like this. Haven’t seen friends you’re close to in a long time, don’t have this kind of relationship with your family. Haven’t had a partner in… a depressingly long time, and even then, it always took a while to get to this level of casual intimacy – if you got there at all.

“Thought that was obvious,” the lieutenant replies.

The other hand, still gloved, finds your opposite cheek and pinches that one too. Your eyes are forced narrow as the skin is manipulated, bunched up. You make a noise in the back of your throat, tilting your head to accommodate.

“’S not,” you mumble. “Who are you, my auntie?”

“’M scarier than your auntie.”

You snort, edges of your mouth tugging up despite how he’s pulling your cheeks.

“Never met my auntie, then,” you giggle.

Noticing your grin, he lets one go, only to gently crush both in his ungloved hand. And god, it’s so big that he could span your jaw from middle finger to thumb. Instead, he smooshes your face until your mouth puckers. You must look like a fish – a dumbstruck, awkward fish.

“Sir,” you slur out. He squeezes a little tighter, cutting off your ability to speak. Good thing, probably; you’re not sure what you would have said next.

“Like a little stress ball you are,” he muses, almost to himself.

That does prompt a laugh from you, the absurdity of the entire situation making you a little light- headed. Here is your huge, terrifying lieutenant, practically more legend than man, squishing your cheeks like a particularly long-suffering but beloved pet. You, the team medic, the person who pokes and prods at them more often than not. The one person in the 141 that you always thought he barely tolerated.

“Next time I’m on the edge of tearin’ my hair out, I’ll just come to you for a squeeze.”

He emphasizes this with one last, extra scrunch that makes you humph in mild discomfort. But when he finally lets you go, you grin and shake your head, somehow more amused than annoyed or offended. It seems like you finally might be growing on your lieutenant. That’s nothing to sneeze at.

“Try it and you’ll lose a finger, sir,” you tease.

“Like to see you try it, Squeaks.”

Your mistake was thinking that Simon “Ghost” Riley makes idle threats. (Not that you think that he was threatening you; if he was you know you’d know it.)

He’s been out training recruits by himself – Gaz and Price on a mission, Soap laid up with a twisted knee – a task that already tends to irritate him. Add to that, the weather is fucking miserable. Hot as hell but also a little rainy, meaning that it’s humid as a swamp. Probably has been making his stitches and burn itch beneath the mask.

When he storms into the common room at the end of the day, you and Soap exchange looks. A lot of assassin-soldier to be barreling into a small room – and making a beeline straight for you.

“Uh, sir?” you yelp. Consider a tactical retreat, but even that brief deliberation is too long. He crowds you against the counter you were making tea at and grabs your face.

He still has his gloves on, rough and uncomfortable on your skin. You wrinkle your nose, try to pull back, but his grip is too tight, so you just submit yourself to whatever is happening.

Apparently, “de-stress” is happening.

His smooshes your face just like he had in the infirmary, and some of the tension in his shoulders drops. You blink as his grip relaxes, then tenses. And then again. And again. Again, again, again. It dawns on you that he’s literally treating your cheeks like his own personal stress ball.

You should be insulted. Outraged. You’re not a toy.

“All good, LT?” Soap ventures. Sounds like he’s defusing a bomb.

“Fine, Johnny,” Ghost replies, almost absently. “Long day.”

“Recruits bein’ idjets, then?”

“Fuckin’ muppets,” he agrees, less heated than he’d normally be.

Huh, you think. Is this… actually working?

You make eye contact with Johnny. He looks more blindsided than you, a bit like he’s witnessing your murder instead of being accosted by your strained lieutenant.

“Couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag with a map.”

He squeezes a little tighter as he says it, prompting a noise of protest from you. It doesn’t hurt yet, but your teeth are rubbing against soft tissue. He eases up again and meets your eyes, half-lidded and a touch warmer than you’re used to. The skin around his eyes eases bit by bit, and the line of his jaw beneath the balaclava looks relaxed.

You settle then, resting your weight back against the counter. Nothing untoward is happening, just Ghost being… honestly, a little weird. It’s a nice thought actually, that your big scary LT is a weirdo. The kind of weirdo that would rather squish his medic than a stress ball.

Makes sense in a way, with how he’s always covered up and keeping a safe distance (physically and emotionally) between himself and others. Probably touch starved. Not sure why he’s picked you, but you’re happy that he did.

After a few minutes you pat his wrist, a gentle double tap. Like sparring. He lets you go.

“I’m making tea if you’d like a cup?” you offer.

“Yeah, Sergeant. Earl Grey, left side of the cabinet.”

“Yessir.”

You can feel Soap squinting.

“Since when are you two so chummy, eh?” he asks.

“Since always,” Ghost replies as if Soap is an idiot.

With your back turned, he can’t see the grin that would surely give you away. “Yeah, Soap, where’ve you been?”

“Och, now you’re taking the piss.”

You hand Ghost his tea and sit down to let Soap rant.

It has become a habit. Ghost gets annoyed at recruits, paperwork, bad intel – your cheeks get squished like it’s a family reunion. He starts removing his gloves at least. Warm, calloused hands are much more comfortable than textured gloves. You’re starting to look forward to it, even.

It’s not a long process. He’ll come find you, smoosh up your face until you wrinkle your nose, and then continues with his day, shoulders looser than when he appeared. You usually complain, whine that you’re in the middle of something, that he didn’t even warn you, that his grip is too tight. But you never push him away or pull back. And he always honors your little tap-taps if you need to be freed before he’s ready to let go.

By this point, everyone on the team has seen it. Soap no longer brings it up, but sometimes informs you when Ghost appears with that Look about him. Gaz floundered the first time he saw it, stuttering and stumbling until Ghost told him to spit it out or shut up. Once after that, he asked if he could squeeze you for stress relief. You had to make Ghost let go from how tight his hand went. Gaz didn’t ask again.

Price, shockingly enough, takes in the situation, then settles you with a nonjudgmental look.

“Solid, Sergeant?”

“Yessir,” you manage around your pressed cheeks, adding a thumbs up.

“As you were, then.”

And that was that.

Of course, with jobs like yours, some days are more stressful than others. Some days are hell on Earth. This mission wasn’t quite that, but it did go to shit in a handbasket, and you’re ragged by the end of it. Gaz dislocated a shoulder, Soap is concussed. Price has a nasty road rash across one arm that he was a bit of an ass about tending – not that you’d say as much.

Even you are scuffed up. A hostile split your lip with a nasty jab that caught you off guard. (Ghost, right behind you at the time, stabbed the guy with vicious prejudice. You’re trying not to be flattered and trying not to think about what it means that you’re failing.) Besides that, you’re exhausted, dehydrated, and you’re pretty sure you hurt your back trying to stabilize Soap at some point.

Ghost is the only one that made it out unscathed as far as you can tell. You also know that that’s more likely to put him in a mood than if he’d suffered alongside you all. Cold and detached as he might seem, he doesn’t like seeing anyone in the 141 hurt on his watch.

You’re beside Soap, making sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the transport back to base, but you can feel Ghost’s eyes on you. You make eye contact across the aisle. His shoulders are tight, arms crossed, hands clenching and unclenching. He’s too disciplined to tap his foot or bounce his leg, but you know he would be if he was anyone else.

When you land, you send Soap to the infirmary for observation. Price decides on debrief after breakfast the next morning and slinks off to his office. Gaz follows after Soap to get painkillers and a sling. You shoot Ghost a long, tired look.

“Can’t be a stress ball today,” you tell him, “my mouth hurts.”

“I know.”

But still, he’s standing too close to you at the armory where you’ve returned your weapons. His shoulders are bent slightly towards you, hands twitching at his sides. In all honesty, you wish that you could do your usual destress routine – because as much as he seems to enjoy having something/someone to squeeze, you enjoy having to sit still for a few moments of physical contact just as much.

And after thinking Soap cracked his skull, Gaz lost his arm, your captain got skinned, you need to decompress. And you need to do it with Ghost, who saved each and every one of you today.

“C’mon,” you say and, taking a chance, grab his hand.

He hums in question, but allows you to lead, careful not to grip too tight. The bones there are too delicate, and you need them in working order as their medic. He can’t be so rough with them.

You practically drag him to the common room and put on the kettle. Understanding, Ghost preps the mugs and sachets of preferred tea. When the water is hot enough, you each make your tea, then tug him to the couch. You direct him into the corner – and it’s only then that you hesitate.

Instinct is to climb into his lap. He’s a big man and you want to be cradled, but you also suspect the weight and warmth of another body would be soothing to him too. Instead, you clamber up as close to him as you can get, wedging your shoulder against his rubs and encouraging his arm around you.

It seems like he hesitates for a moment too. This is the most contact you two have ever had, regardless of how close he usually stands when he’s squeezing your face. Right now, you’re pressed together all down one side, your thigh overlapping his a little. After a moment, though, he releases a long breath and curls his arm around you. His hand settles naturally on your hip.

It’s not long after that that the squeezing starts.

He's still got his gloves on and the skin on your hip is sensitive, usually hidden under layers of clothes, but you’re too snuggled in to disturb the arrangement now. Between the heat he radiates like a furnace, and your steaming tea, you’re quickly cozy and spaced out. The rhythm of his hand kneading plush flesh is soothing, something to drift back to while your mind goes blissfully blank of anything but safe, warm, comfy, quiet.

At some point, your mostly empty cup is plucked from your hand. You mumble a thank you and curl in closer, both legs over his lap now. His other hand rests on your lower thigh, just above your knee, and begins squeezing there too. Almost a massage, if not for the near-rough way he grips you.

“Like a cat,” you mumble, head lolling onto his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Cat making biscuits.”

There’s a huff of air. You smile faintly and tilt your head away from the suddenly too-bright lights of the common room. Don’t even realize you’ve tucked into his neck until he rubs his jaw over the top of your head.

“’S nice,” you whisper.

He hums. You think it might be agreement. Must be, Ghost wouldn’t be entertaining this if he didn’t. It’s a reassuring thought to drift off with, knowing that no matter what you want, he’ll never do something just to be nice.

You wake the next morning horizontal, something too firm to be a pillow under your head. When you sit up a little, Ghost’s dark eyes are peering at you, heavy as usual, but not as sharp. His chest rumbles beneath your chin in greeting.

“Mine or yours?” you mumble.

“Mine.”

You hum, too sleepy to let the implications of such a big gesture make you anxious right now.

“You’re a bad pillow,” you say instead.

It’s a lie. He’s a wonderful pillow. Jacked as he is, all that muscle is so plush and cushiony when it’s relaxed like this. Helps, also, that he’s still so warm.

“Slept on me just fine,” he grunts. “Drooled a little, too.”

“Did not.”

“Explain the wet spot on my tits then.”

You say the first thing that comes to mind. “Lactating.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Stones in glass houses, sir.”

You close your eyes again for a moment, enjoying the dark room and heat beneath you. The best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long while, honestly. Especially with so much of the team injured.

There’s a tug at your hair, gentler than you usually get from Ghost.

“Get the fuck up, Squeaks,” he gruffs without any heat. In fact, he sounds like he’d rather you didn’t. “Need to piss and eat.”

“At the same time?” you tease. You’d sound more scandalized if you weren’t still half asleep.

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

He rolls you onto the mattress and pushes himself up.

“Meet back here in fifteen. Fresh clothes, fresh face.”

“Gonna squish it?” you ask.

“Maybe later, see how the day goes.” He pinches one of your cheeks anyway. Still rougher than most people would be, but for him it’s downright tender. You try not to lean into it, not sure if you succeed. Don’t think either of you cares, really.

You lay there for another moment, listening to him bustle around his quarters, getting new clothes it sounds like.

“How copy, sergeant?”

“Solid, sir.”

“Fifteen.”

“Yessir.”

You haul yourself up and trudge out of his room for a shower. Gonna need all fifteen of those minutes.

Breakfast is a quiet but pleasant affair. Gaz is using his sling and sore as all hell, but in high spirits. Soap is exhausted from two-hour wakeups and the sensitivity the concussion has left him with. The painkillers are helping, and despite all that, he’s in a decent (if slightly subdued) mood.

You snatch up a couple of dry muffins and an orange juice for Price before heading to debrief, plopping it all on his desk when you enter his office. Your efforts are rewarded with a fond smile.

Gaz and Soap take the two single chairs, probably afraid of falling asleep on the couch. That’s where you and Ghost end up, you pressed up against the arm and him… right next to you.

Not that you’re complaining. His thigh pressed against yours is a nice comfort. Reminiscent of how he made you feel the night before. A reminder that he’s here, that he’s solid and safe while you all recount the mission from the day before. If Price is shocked by you two practically nested up together, he doesn’t show it.

Somewhere along the way, your hand reaches for something to fiddle with. You’re not as restless as Soap, but you like something to keep busy while you’re thinking or anxious. Usually you tear up the inside of your mouth biting your lips, but you don’t want to aggravate the healing split. Your fingers land on the pocket of Ghost’s cargos. The material is thick, the stitching an interesting texture, and the pockets have snaps that are quiet enough to play with during debrief.

Ghost lets you fidget in peace, only giving you a slight nod when you glance at him to check. His arm is resting along the couch behind you, and you can feel his fingers twisting into your loose hair. Fair exchange, you figure, and settle in.

There’s a brief call with Laswell to discuss next steps. You listen, but not closely. You’re just a medical sergeant after all. Your opinion is considered when offered, but you’re not much of a strategist or tactician. Mostly, you go where you're directed, do as you're told, and keep everyone in one piece as best you can.

When it’s over, Soap helps haul you off the couch while Ghost stands, clipping his thigh pocket closed again.

“Good to see you two getting along,” Price calls as you’re leaving.

You glance over your shoulder, catch the smirk on his face, and stick out your tongue. And then promptly bolt, lest you be reprimanded for insubordination. It’s a common threat in the 141; you’re not sure if anyone has actually been written up for it outside of a mission. You don’t want to be the one to find out, though.

Soap cackles at you, Gaz calls you chicken shit. Ghost ruffles your hair and steers you towards his office.

“Oi, where are you two off to?” Gaz asks.

“Paperwork,” Ghost replies shortly.

News to you, but sure. Some company would be nice while you fill out forms. That becomes mildly more difficult when he plops you into his lap, but you make do. Ghost keeps his office cold – all those layers, you figure – and the chair across from his desk is purposefully uncomfortable to discourage lingering. His broad thighs make a much better, warmer seat. The fact that he circles an arm around your waist, hugging you like a kid with a teddy bear is just a bonus. For all that, you’d figure out how to do reports on water.

You two should probably talk about this, or something. There are regulations or codes of conduct prohibiting this sort of behavior. Never mind that the interpersonal lines (the ones you actually care about) are starting to blur. But well, you don’t have a problem with all this, and you wouldn’t be breathing if he did. So, well, there’s not much to talk about, is there?

“Hey, LT?”

“Mm.”

You watch him sign the bottom of a report, his signature an efficient and jagged thing, somehow still elegant. Like watching him practice with his knives. He flexes his hand when it’s done. You two have been at it for a while now. He hasn’t said a word, but you know Ghost despises paperwork. You could both use a break.

“You ever seen Halloween?”

“The horror movie?” He pauses, thinks about it. “Yeah.”

“The next one is going to take place in the summer. Guess he’ll be Michael Perspires.”

He goes still behind you. “What.”

“He’s gotten a job as an electrician. Michael Wires.”

You keep your face forward and down, pretending to work, trying to swallow back hysterical giggles.

“Squeaks…”

“He’s into arson now as well. Michael Fires.”

His arm tightens around your waist. You wish you could see his face, but you know you’ll break if you look. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He didn’t tell the truth on his resume. Michael Liars.”

“If you make another shitty Michael Myers pun, I swear to god—”

“You don’t like them?” you ask, grin so wide it hurts. “I’m going to Michael Cry-ers.”

“God fucking dammit, Squeaks.”

You burst into laughter that is quickly cut short by his arm constricting like a snake. Even with your air supply diminished, wheezing a bit, you kick your feet in delight.

“G-Guess… guess you’re…” you struggle to get it out between the lack of oxygen and your giggles. “Guess you’re M-Michael Tires of this joke.”

“I’m going to make you regret breathing at our next sparring session.”

And oh, you believe him. Your LT doesn’t make idle threats. But you’re telling yourself that it’s so worth it this time. Soap is going to give you a fucking medal for this. You know, assuming Ghost doesn’t snipe you when you try to tell the story.

You’re still cackling, but it turns to squeals when you feel sharp pressure on your shoulder.

He’s biting you.

“L-LT!” you gasp, scrabbling to push at his forehead without dislodging his mask. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop!”

He growls, the sound burning through you, straight to the pit of your stomach. You choose to ignore that in exchange for the oddly ticklish sensation of him gnawing through your shirt.

Knowing by now that you won’t be free until he’s ready, you just try to sit still and not spur him on further. After a moment, he unlocks his jaw and speaks in your ear, voice low but unmistakably amused.

“Medic, stress ball, comedian, chew toy – anything you can’t do, Sergeant?” he snarks.

You scrunch your nose at this new designation. “I am not a chew toy.”

“Seem pretty chewy to me,” he muses, sinking his teeth in again. You bark out reactive laughter and squirm, but his hold hasn’t loosened a bit and you’re trapped against him.

“LT,” you complain like usual. “You’re going to leave a mark.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but you feel his teeth dig in a little harder. Well, that’s new. You still don’t push him away, a not-so-small or secret part of you pleased by the idea of him leaving a bruise. It wouldn’t even be visible. Just something to remind you of the trust your lieutenant has in you, in the bond you two have formed, unorthodox as it is.

You hand him a bottle of water when he finally releases you, to sooth his undoubtedly dry mouth. There’s a wet patch on your shirt (and probably your underwear) but you ignore it to return to your reports. He seems a little less reluctant to join you now, pleasingly.

You’re not so sure about the “chew toy” thing, but you definitely seem to be an effective stress relief.

You’re having a great day. No one is injured, you’re caught up on paperwork. You pinned both Soap and Gaz during sparring earlier, earning a proud nod from Ghost and Price. There were pudding cups at lunch, and you’ve made plans with the rest of the team to watch a movie in the common room tonight. Even your antisocial LT agreed to come.

In fact, he’s the first one there when you arrive in the early evening. You chirp a hello, heading for the pantry for popcorn. Soap and Gaz can’t be trusted to make it without setting off the fire alarms.

Ghost hums in return, but he seems content to scroll on his phone, saving his energy for socializing. You don’t mind his silence, never do. Not like he can chat when he’s biting you like a teething puppy. And he has been. A lot. His new favorite form of stress relief, apparently, apart from squishing your cheeks like usual.

If there’s privacy for it, his teeth have been imprinting your arms, shoulders, even your hands in perfect pinpricked circles. He’s not any gentler about it than he is smooshing up your face, and a couple times now you’ve discovered bruises later on. You suspect that’s his aim, especially when he’s more aggravated than stressed. A way to release aggression without wasting bullets at the range or beating the stuffing out of someone in the ring.

You don’t mind, no matter how you complain aloud. It was a sudden step up in intimacy, but you like the feeling of his teeth on you. A way to get that soothing moment of forced stillness without losing the ability to speak, eat, or look around. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the mark either. Feels like a claim, one you’re not sure is actually being made – but you’re allowed to dream.

That said, Ghost is a bastard about it. If you thought he was pushy before, pinching your cheeks at inopportune times, the biting could almost be classified as a nuisance. Several times now, someone has walked into the common room to your forearm between Ghost’s jaws. You’ve lost count of how many conversations with Soap or Gaz have been interrupted by your lieutenant’s canines sinking into your shoulder or the meat of your thumb, tongue swiping excess saliva from bare skin.

You’re ruminating on this as your fellow sergeants filter in, joking and laughing about something stupid the recruits did earlier.

Ghost has hardly looked up from his phone, only jerks his head in acknowledgement when they greet him. His shoulders are loose; he’s relaxed. You know better than to mistake it for being unaware of the environment, but… well, if there were ever a time for payback…

You leave the popcorn to finish in the microwave and stroll over to the couch. To your delight, Ghost shuffles a little to make room for you, an obvious invitation to cuddle up. It’s almost enough to distract you from your mission. Almost.

You perch on the edge of the cushion, hook a thumb under the edge of his shirt. The break in routine draws his attention but doesn’t seem to raise any alarms. He flicks his gaze up from the screen to catch your eyes. You lock gazes, tug the fabric up just the tiniest sliver. Then dart down and blow a deafening raspberry into the toned skin of his stomach.

There’s a moment of dead silence. Then you scramble up and bolt, yelping when you hear the heavy thump of boots behind you.

“Squeaks, you little shit!” he snarls, Manchester accent thicker than usual. And he gives Soap shit.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you lie, revealed by your breathless giggles.

“I’ll make you sorry!”

You believe him.

You skitter around Price, calling a frantic “hi, sir” as you stumble to keep your footing. Ghost doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, solely focused on getting ahold of you. Your only saving grace is being able to take corners faster than him, but his long legs eat distance like nothing and it’s only two hallways later that you’re snatched right off your feet.

You squeal, not sure if it’s in terror or delight, as he hauls you up and over one broad shoulder.

“Ghost, wait no, I didn’t mean it!”

“Sure fucking seemed to,” he growls, manhandling a better grip on you.

You put up a bit of a struggle, but there's no question who would win even if you really did fight him. Instead, you press against his chest and arms, laughing as his fingertips dig roughly into your hips and thighs and waist.

“Earning your nickname today,” he mocks as he lugs you back to the common room.

When you arrive, Soap groans in dismay at your failure, Gaz taunts you for thinking you could get away with your stunt. Price just shakes his head, playing at exasperated but unable to hide his fondness. Ghost all but tosses you onto the couch and before you can scramble up, flops on top of you. All the breath is forced from your lungs with a little oof, feeling a bit like those animals that can flatten themselves to squeeze into small crevices.

“LT, I can’t breathe,” you whine. “You’re heavy.”

The cushions on the couch aren’t luxurious by any means, but they’re forgiving enough that you can, in fact, breathe. It’s just a little more difficult than usual. Not difficult enough to tap out, though. You like the weight of him on you.

“Should have thought about that before being a little shit.”

You grumble; don’t really have an argument for that but unwilling to cede the point.

“Oi, you two done?” Gaz calls. “I wanna watch the movie.”

Price snorts. Soap, angel that he is, offers you the bowl of popcorn.

“No one told you to wait, sergeant,” Ghost replies, bland.

“Yeah,” you second, muffled and admittedly pathetic sounding. “Takes you five minutes to figure out the sound anyway.”

“We all know you’re going to put the subtitles on, don’t know why the volume matters,” Soap chimes in.

“It’s only for the Captain’s sake,” Gaz defends.

“Now what are you implying, Garrick?” Price asks, silky and dangerous.

You snuggle in happily, enjoying the moment of peace and companionship. No shooting, no bleeding, no nightmares. Just the five of you, alive and healthy, enjoying this little family they’ve built and brought you into.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until the pressure is gone, Ghost wedging his arms between your lax body and the couch. It’s cold without him as a personal blanket, and you curl into his arms with a discontent noise.

“Atta girl, Squeaks. I got you,” he rumbles.

You crack an eye open to check on everyone else by instinct. Gaz and Soap are leaning on each other, lightly snoring. It looks like Price is about to rouse them as well, but he shoots you and Ghost an especially soft look.

“Taking this one to bed, sir.”

“Be good to our girl, Lieutenant,” Price nods.

“As good as she is to us,” Ghost agrees.

You’re half-sure that you’re dreaming, but you smile at them both before tucking in and falling asleep again.

The next morning starts in Ghost’s bed, a place you find yourself often enough now that you recognize it as quickly as your own. You’re all tangled up in each other, more than usual. There are fingers in your hair, scraping across your scalp. You could purr it feels so good, pressing your face into Ghost’s chest to let him get a new spot.

“Didn’t even make it halfway through the movie,” he teases.

“Seen it before.”

“Gaz is going to be cross.”

“He’ll understand – getting chased takes a lot of you.”

“Don’t make me chase you down, then.”

You snort. If you have any say in it, you’ll be instigating games like that much more. Something about the big scary Ghost dashing after you over a stupid little prank – and knowing that the worst you’ll get out of it is a forceful cuddle – is not the deterrent it should be.

Still, there’s a pattern to this little game of yours. You can’t admit that you enjoy the play.

“Not my fault you can’t take what you dish,” you reply, twisting to nip his chest through his shirt, as if to prove your point.

It’s sharper than you would be with anyone else. Ghost, though, hums low and rough in his throat.

“I’ve never done that bullshit you pulled last night,” he grumbles.

“Lack of imagination on your part.”

He huffs, pinches your cheek and chuckles when you whine in complaint, muttering that it’s too early for his shit.

“C’mon, Squeaks, up and at ‘em. Before Soap takes all the blueberry.”

“Yessir…” you groan.

Ghost has been away. Price sent him and Gaz off on a stealth assignment, something that Soap is less suited to. Not that he couldn’t do it if needed, but it’s more Gaz’s specialty, so Price sent him. Soap isn’t too bummed about it, though. He’s been wreaking havoc around base with you casually egging him on from the sidelines, feeding into his chaos without being directly involved.

Not that Price would see it that way if he caught wind. But he hasn’t, so you’re not in trouble yet.

You might be after this though.

One drink too many, Soap complaining that you always play it safe. And, to his credit, you do. He and Gaz are the troublemakers, you just like to watch and occasionally add your two cents to the explosive mix. Price has joked before that you’re the best behaved amongst the group, even over Ghost.

Not only are you the least experienced with combat, but you’re also the team medic. It often leaves you feeling like you have to maintain a certain level of decorum and responsibility alongside your officers. It’s no wonder that you try to stay on the straight and narrow – the occasional snippy comment aside.

But this is beyond anything you’ve dared.

Soap has had enough to point out the parlor down the street and dare you. You’ve had enough to be goaded into spitefully proving a point. If Gaz were here, he might be clever enough to dare Soap into something else to get him to back down. If Ghost were here, he’d scruff you both like unruly kittens and haul you back to base. If Price were here, you’d be running laps until you puke.

Instead, it’s just you and Soap. Ghost and Gaz aren’t due back for a week and half, Price is probably buried waist deep in paperwork as usual. And there’s no one to tell you not to.

And so Soap gets his nipples pierced and you get your tongue re-pierced, and you both wake up the next day a little hungover and a lot sore.

You consider taking it out but… well.

You kinda missed having it.

And you want to see how long it’ll take Ghost to notice if you use your discreet jewelry.

You give Soap painkillers for his nipples and promise to hook him up with a good jewelry store recommendation. Then you spend the rest of the day trying not to talk. The rest of the week, really. If anyone notices, they don’t mention it. Soap is always happy to talk for the both of you.

By the time Gaz and Ghost return, it hardly hurts anymore. Still healing, yes, but it only aches in the mornings now. You fit the flat-topped, clear ring into the piercing and go to meet the boys on the tarmac.

They exit the aircraft together, Gaz chatting about something and Ghost humoring him in characteristic silence. When the latter sees you, though, he makes a beeline. You let out a surprised but pleased noise as you’re scooped up, mask wedging into the space beneath your jaw to press against your neck.

“Welcome back, sir,” you manage, squeezing his shoulders.

He grunts in reply. You shoot Gaz a questioning look.

“It was slow going,” he explains, “And the guys on the transport back were, uh, chatty.”

Ah. Set on your feet again, his gloved hands rise to squish your face like usual.

“Do the thing,” he gruffs.

You wrinkle your nose. Partially out of embarrassment, and partially because he’ll see the piercing if you’re not careful.

“That captain is—”

“That’s an order, sergeant.”

You sigh. Then poke your tongue out as he smooshes your face further. He exhales like the first hit of nicotine for the day. You keep the jewelry hidden behind your teeth and are released a few seconds later.

“That’s the stuff,” he says.

“Christ, LT, don’t say it like that,” you complain.

Unsurprisingly, he ignores you, turning to Price.

“Debrief now?”

“If you and Gaz don’t need medical.”

They both shake their heads, and you make no secret that you’re pleased by this news.

As you head into the building, you find Ghost’s finger hooked into your belt loop, tugging you along to Price’s office. You don’t mention it, only arch an eyebrow when you catch his eye.

At the door, Price pauses, giving Ghost a long, exasperated look.

“You know she’s not actually a service animal, son?”

“The intel isn’t confidential.”

Price sighs, drags a hand down his face. “Suppose not. Get the fuck in, then, Squeaks.”

You get the fuck in.

As usual, Ghost stands, and you’re obliged to stand with him. In front of him, actually, his chin settling on top of your head while his hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at the muscle. You tune out most of the conversation, only here for Ghost’s sake, apparently.

Not that you mind. There’s a large, loud part of you that is glowing with the knowledge that he missed you so much.

When it’s over, he doesn’t even bother to stop at the mess hall. He picks you straight up and strides off to his quarters. You complain that he needs to eat, or at least drink water, but he doesn’t even deign your fussing with a response.

He closes and locks the door when you’re both inside, then tosses you on the bed. It smells overwhelmingly of him: metal, gunpowder, standard issue detergent, and something spicy. It’s a scent you’ve become intimately familiar with – could get addicted to, if you let yourself.

You settle in amongst the crisp sheets and thin pillows, Ghost sheds his tac gear like a second skin. When he’s down to his undershirt and boxers, barefoot on the cold ground, you open your arms.

He climbs over you as you giggle, then unapologetically drops all his weight. You make your usual little oof sound, suspecting that he likes it, and tilt your head so he can press his face (without the skull mask) into your shoulder.

“So how was it actually?” you ask.

“Gaz was antsy the whole time. Said he sensed you and Soap up to something without him.”

You snort, relieved that he can’t see the damning expression on your face right now.

“There isn’t anything to get up to when he’s not here causing it,” you lie.

“Don’t put anything past Soap, the crafty cunt.”

You grin, patting your hands lightly over his shoulder blades. “Nice alliteration.”

He hums, slowly going boneless beneath your rhythmless tapping.

“Mask,” he mutters.

It takes you a second to realize what he wants.

“You’re asking me to pull it up so you can bite me?” you scoff.

“Telling, not asking,” he grumbles.

“Oh for the love of…”

You do it anyway. It’s not long before you feel his teeth, always sharper than you expect, latch onto the base of your neck. You tilt your chin back to give him comfortable access, staring up at the ceiling. How often does he sit here after nightmares, staring at it? Does he do it even when you sleepover, clinging onto him like a koala?

You lay like that for a while, fingers finding the fine blond hair peeking out from his rolled balaclava and scritching. One of his hands wedges beneath himself to find your hip, squeezing you tight enough that his nails scrape across your pants.

“So what did you two get up to?” he asks, detaching eventually.

Your neck is aching pleasantly, mind drifting in peace, and you don’t realize what he’s asking at first.

“What?” you ask.

You try to suppress a shiver as his tongue drags over the saliva he left on your neck. This is a normal part of the process, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the pleasure it sends down your spine.

“You and Soap,” he clarifies. “What did you do?”

“It was mostly Soap,” you deflect, forgoing any attempt at innocence.

He snorts. “My problem?”

You consider, humming. “Probably not.”

“Probably?”

You shrug. “Don’t leave me unattended if you don’t want paperwork.”

He nips sharply at the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t want to. Price said you don’t have enough experience if things went to shit.”

You don’t know how to feel that Ghost would have preferred you on a mission with him. Even over Soap? You know he’s fond of you, but you didn’t realize it was enough to have you partnered with him on missions. It makes your chest warm and fluttery. The bastard.

“He’s right,” you say instead of something unforgivably sentimental.

“Imagine he’ll overlook that when he finds out about your body candy.”

You squeak, eyes closing in regret. Well, it was a nice life while it lasted.

“That fast?” you ask.

“Saw it as soon as you opened that pretty mouth,” he answers.

“It’s clear!”

“Thought I wouldn’t see a piece of plastic in your mouth, sergeant?”

You sigh, barely even noticing the bite he leaves on your collarbone. When he pushes his chest up to look at you, he’s half-lidded, almost lazy looking. But the corner of his mouth quirks up, just that slightest bit you’ve become hypervigilant of. Your hands slide from his shoulders and curl into the front of his shirt.

“How much trouble am I in?” you venture.

“A world of it,” he replies, voice pitching low and rough in a way that’s just not fair.

“Soap did worse,” you complain, not above throwing him under the bus. This is his fault anyway.

“Don’t care what Soap did. Care that you tried to hide it from me.”

He catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, gives it a little shake like a reprimand.

“Wasn’t hiding it,” you argue. “At least not from you. Would have told you by the end of the week if you hadn’t noticed.”

And you really would have. If Price hadn’t been present on the tarmac, you had half a mind to show it off immediately, excited to be breaking the rules.

Ghost hums, eyes roving your face – apparently to determine the truth of your confession.

“Doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” he warns.

But you know that tone of voice by now. You’re not off the hook yet.

“…Want me to take it out?” you try.

His eyes go from dark to pitch black. “No.”

Oh?

Oh.

“Want… to see it?”

He hums. Not quite confirmation, but close enough. You don’t even think before dropping your jaw, tongue rolling out over your bottom lip. He let out a short, hard breath. You see his jaw twitch.

Then he shifts.

His thumb lands on your tongue, much farther back than you expect but you don’t flinch. He draws a line down the center to the flat top of your piercing and then presses down. You make a protesting noise, a warning because it’s still new and still sore. He doesn’t let up but doesn’t push any harder.

“Squeaks.”

You flutter your eyes open (when did they close?) and meet his eyes. They nearly absorb all the light in the room, twin blackholes drawing you in, inescapable and immutable. There’s a hunger lurking within, one you realize with a jolt you’ve been seeing for a long time now.

Whatever he sees on your face, it makes him run his tongue along his own teeth – pearly white and perfectly straight. Then he ducks down and licks over your piercing, first in neat sweeps, and then in tight little circles around its circumference.

Trapped beneath him and mouth open, you can’t swallow back the whine that peels from your throat. You’d be embarrassed about it; except the noise you make when he stops is so much worse.

“Taste good,” he rumbles.

“This another stress thing?” you ask, dizzy and flushed.

He smirks, chuckles deep in his chest. “If it is, will you let me do it whenever I want?”

You nod, thoughts blurring at the edges. His smirk widens, but he obliges when you tug at his shirt, wanting him close, wanting him to do it again.

It takes a long time for it to evolve into an actual kiss. He spends what feels like a small eternity flicking his tongue over your piercing, around it. It’s an unusual sensation, not quite ticklish, but decadent and erotic. At some point, quiet little noises start spilling from your throat and don’t stop. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing down when the pitch goes higher – or maybe you pitch higher because he’s closer?

Eventually your jaw tires from hanging open, tongue aching at the stretch. You retract back into your own mouth, but Ghost chases after. It’s like he forgot about actual kissing until that moment. And then he has something new to amuse himself with. His tongue explores your lips, the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat. He drags his sharp teeth over your bottom lip, growls when you return the favor in retaliation for the sting.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps, “my medic.”

You hum, reciprocate the thorough exploration he just gave you. He tastes a little metallic, but mostly he tastes like Ghost, like Simon, and it’s addicting.

“Think it’s a stress thing for me too,” you murmur when you pull away for air.

“Yeah?” He trails his mouth down your jaw, teeth scraping. “Anxious while I was gone?”

You nod. You always worry about the boys when they’re away, when you’re not there for a worst-case scenario. But you thought about your lieutenant especially, wondering at his mood, at his feelings, without your usual daily interactions. His absence left you feeling twitchy, a little unmoored. You wonder – hope – if he felt the same.

“Take what you need, then,” he whispers. “Don’t mind returning the favor.”

You sink your nails into his shoulders, rake them down his back and sides, treating him like a scratching post. He shivers, puffs out a hot breath by your ear. Your mouth finds that strong, sharp jaw and latches on, sucking and biting, worrying the skin until you pull away to a dark bruise.

“Go on,” he urges.

You do, making a trail down his neck, then across. Tug at his shirt when it gets in the way. He leans back to pull it over his head. You nearly tackle him, mapping out the swell of hard muscles, licking over the angry lines you clawed into him.

“Easy now, precious,” he purrs. “No rush.”

You make a disagreeing noise, lips never leaving his skin. One hand tangles in your hair, petting and holding, not guiding. His other drifts down to your ass and grips like a vice. It hurts a little; it feels so fucking good. There will be bruises for days.

When your nails scratch across his hip, he bucks, fingers spasming against your scalp.

“Careful,” he growls. “Asking for something you might not be ready for.”

You hum. “Maybe,” you agree honestly. “I’ve never…”

He goes rigid. Worried, you glance up. His bare chest (marked up by your hands and mouth) is heaving. His jaw is slack, lips wet. You can’t distinguish between pupil and iris anymore.

“You swear?” he asks, rough. “You’ve never fucked anyone before?”

“No,” you say, not embarrassed, not with him. “Got close, but never managed it. Things always got in the way. Used to be a joke with my friends, that I was cursed.”

A fire alarm, an oblivious roommate, police knocking on the door, the roof falling in, once.

“You have experience,” he asserts.

“Definitely.” You quirk a wicked smile his way. “Plenty of practice with my mouth…”

He shudders, tilting your head to a vulnerable angle, neck exposed.

“And my hands,” you add, gasping.

“You keep pushing, pet…” he rumbles.

You whine. “Want to, with you. Want it to be you, Simon.”

His lips crash into yours, messy and filthy, licking all the needy sounds from your mouth.

“Strip, sergeant. Now.”

You scramble to obey, wiggling out of your clothes as quickly as you can while still half under him.

“Always so good for me,” he hums. “Always follow my orders, my good little sergeant.”

“Yours,” you breathe against his mouth.

The last scrap of clothing is barely off when he pounces, hand flattening on your stomach and pressing you down into the mattress. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, the force of it, pinning you. His eyes hungrily lock on your chest, on the smooth and unmarked skin of your breasts.

If you wanted to protest, you don’t get the chance to. He descends on you like a starving man, all teeth and tongue, practically mauling you. You squirm, not sure where you want to go, just that it’s a lot of sensation all at once. He captures a perked nipple between his lips and sucks until you keen, knee bumping his flank like you want to kick him off.

He slots his hips between yours, presses up tight to trap you further. His free hand grasps at your other breast. Kneading roughly, then twisting and plucking at the rosy nipple until you’re crying out, nearly thrashing. When he’s satisfied, he switches his hand and mouth, spinning you up and up until your breasts are aching and the best kind of sore. He finally pulls off with a lewd pop, mouth slick, rosettes left all over you in his wake.

“Trying to kill me,” you pant.

He smirks, drops one last soothing kiss on your sternum. Then extricates himself to remove the last of his own clothing. His dick springs free from his waistband, slapping obscenely against his stomach. You freeze when the dim light glints off bits of metal.

“Is that…?”

“Come find out.”

You scoot to the edge of the bed and brush your fingertips over the hypnotizing ladder of studs along the shaft. Which, now that you’re closer and your hand is there for scale, is huge. Like, almost pornographic. You didn’t know that existed outside of raunchy media. That’s been under you, snuggled up to you, beneath your ass – for months now.

“Oh my god, Simon,” you gulp. “Is that going to…?”

“It will if you can be patient for me.”

“Okay,” you say, eyes never leaving the glittering silver row. You trust him. As rough as he can be, he’s never hurt you. Not in any way you didn’t crave.

His hand catches your chin again, tips your gaze back to his. “Another time, lovely. Give your tongue a break.”

You whine but sit back on your haunches, hands planted between your knees. “Then hurry up.”

His thumb caresses your jaw, presses in warning. “Patient, I said.”

“I’ve been patient,” you argue. “Gimme.”

That coaxes a chuckle out of him. He plants a hand on your shoulder and shoves. You land on your back again, stretch your legs to hang over the side of the bed. He lowers to his knees between them, thick thighs flexing. His hands slide under your hips and drag until your thighs are over his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “Simon.”

“That’s it, lovely,” he coos, teeth grazing your hip. “Just lay there saying my name. Let me play with my toy.”

You’re so wet that you can feel it all over your inner thighs, would be embarrassed if not for the absolutely feral noise he makes at the sight.

“Made a mess.” He draws his tongue up your thigh, sucks at the junction where it meets your hip, loud in the quiet room. “You always like this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s true. You can’t count the number of times you’ve gone back to your room just to change panties.

“That’s my girl.”

He spends an agonizing amount of time licking, biting, and sucking your thighs. Your pleading and whining is met with indifference or absent chuckles. The need has long since tipped over into desperation, muscles twitching with little sparks of pleasure at every graze of teeth and sharp suck.

You’re already both understimulated and overstimulated when he clamps down especially hard, think he’s broken skin for a moment. Frustrated tears have been dancing at the edges of your vision for a while now and they spill over at the blissful burn that shoots through your leg.

“Simon, Simon, please,” you sob, “please, want it. Please, just—”

He shushes you, soothing the hurt with his tongue until your babbling trails off into little sniffles.

“How copy?” he hushes.

“S-Solid,” you answer. “Just a lot.”

“Tactical retreat?”

“No.” You take a shuddering breath. “No, please. Want to keep going, sir.”

His breath is also unsteady as it brushes over your sensitive skin. “Alright, precious. Tap out if you need.”

You snake a hand down the bed and find his wrist, digging your nails in as you squeeze. A promise to honor his command.

He groans low in his throat, eyes smoldering as he looks up your heaving body.

“Pretty when you cry,” he rasps. “Will you do it more if I play with your needy clit?”

“N-no,” you lie.

He calls your bluff, pressing his mouth to your pussy and making a long, slow pass up your slit. You shake and whimper high-pitched, almost hurt sounding. He swirls the tip over your throbbing clit, sucks gently every few passes. You press your eyes shut, too gone to try to stop the reactionary tears any other way.

It’s a quirk of sex you’ve always had. Not prone to crying emotionally or from pain, but when the arousal or pleasure gets too intense, your eyes water like rivers. Some partners have found it off-putting, but the louder you wail and hiccup and cry, the more eager Simon gets. Like he’s got a direct line to heaven’s choir with his tongue.

You’re gripping his wrist so tight that you must be close to drawing blood, but he doesn’t do more than flex his fingers on your ass. Keeps you right there against his mouth, so that all you can do is take exactly what he gives you.

He seals his lips over your clit again, rubbing his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves as he sucks. It gets you to the edge so fast that you’re seeing stars, nearly kicking him.

“Close,” you pant.

He eases up just that little bit to keep you from tipping into orgasm. You’re devastated. Afresh wave of tears drip down your temples to the sound of pathetic, helpless moans. Blessedly, he doesn’t stop. Just keeps you right there as he slides a hand from your ass to your cunt.

Just one of his fingers is thicker than any of yours; sliding two into your dripping hole almost hurdles you into ecstasy. He pulls his mouth away as you clench around them, trickling down his wrist.

“So tight. Didn’t you ever get off to the thought of me?”

“All the f-fucking time,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

You nod, tongue laving over your bottom lip. “My hands just… yours are bigger.”

He chuckles. “No cute little toys to help you out?”

“Like to imagine it’s you,” you ramble, shame long gone. “Easier without a vibe.”

“Fuck.”

He dives down to your clit again, tongue almost cruel as it tortures you with quick, rough strokes. You might scream; you don’t care if you do. His fingers curl to pet your walls, find that spot as if he had his sniper scope on it. You thrash as he strokes you, steady and unrelenting. He sucks one last time and you’re gone, coming so hard that your fingertips go numb.

You’re definitely screaming now; his name, specifically. He growls against your pussy, the vibration only prolonging that pleasure, writhing on his hand. You swallow air like you’re suffocating, Simon filling every part of you, drenching your senses. He’s all you know right now, your heart beating to his name.

And he doesn’t stop.

“S-Simon, what are – t-too much. It’s too much, it’s too—” His pins your hips down as he fits a third finger inside you, finger-fucking you so hard that the slick sounds almost drown out your sobs. You’re overstimulated, riding the edge of pain in your pleasure, lower back tight and hot.

But you don’t tap out, just fist the sheets hard enough to pop the seams.

Simon is single-minded, insistent, demanding. It’s a quality you’ve always admired in the field, and right now it’s pulling you apart piece by shivering piece.

“Simon, I-I’m gonna – I can’t…” You shake your head, crying freely and loudly, whimpering as much as you’re moaning.

He presses one of your thighs towards your chest, fingertips digging harsh into muscle. The shift gives him better access to that thrumming knot of nerves inside you. He presses against it hard and incessant as his tongue flicks repeatedly over your abused clit. Your second orgasm drowns you in waves, hips rolling, not sure if you want to get away or get more.

Simon strokes you through it until you subside into pathetic, shuddering noises, pushing weakly at him, pleading for mercy. When he pulls away, slick is dripping down his chin to his neck. The bottom edge of his balaclava is dark where it’s bunched over his nose. He surges up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You stay that way for a while, letting him coax your breathing into something like normal again. A task made more difficult whenever his fingers tease your tender nipples, preoccupied with how your lungs hitch and your body jolts.

Eventually, your mouth strays to clean him up, licking yourself from his jaw and chin, messy but earnest. He captures your mouth again when you’re done, sucking your tongue like he wants to get every last drop. You shake at the thought, almost horrified to realize you’re still ridiculously horny.

He must see something in your face because he smirks a little. “Playtime’s not over, don’t worry.”

His fingertips trace over your pussy, not dipping in far, but the threat of it triggers a new batch of whimpers and tears. He cocks his head at the sight, almost curious, then leans down and follows their paths with his tongue.

A hum, low and pleased, thunders in the heady sliver of air between you. Against your hip, you feel his cock twitch, hot enough to brand.

“Taste good everywhere,” he muses, tongue still lapping at your tears.

“God, Simon,” you keen, squeezing your glassy eyes shut.

“Want you to do it again,” he murmurs. “Cry for me so I can taste how good I make you feel.”

You moan, pussy clenching, feeling horribly empty. The teeth in your neck are an almost welcome reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure, grounding as they bruise delicate skin.

“Want to see you crying on my cock, lovely. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, reaching for him. Curl your arms around his shoulders, wrap your legs around his waist. He shushes you again, cooing when you hide your wet face against his neck. He supports your unsteady body with unfaltering strength; lets you cling as he rearranges you in his lap.

You can feel his cock beneath you, rock hard, the Jacob’s ladder teasing against your pussy. It distracts you a bit, foggy mind obsessing over how it’ll feel inside you, especially now that you’ve come twice.

His hand pats your ass. “Eyes up, doll.”

You emerge from your hiding spot only to stare, wide-eyed and awed, at his bare face. There are scars everywhere, just like the rest of his body, of varying color and size and healing histories. One on his temple, just clipping his cheek, catches your attention. It’s one of the better-healed scars.

You press a gentle kiss, flick your tongue along it. His hands spasm on your hips, but don’t tug you away.

“Handsome,” you sigh, then nip the same spot you just kissed.

You can feel his smile, a small but precious thing, against your cheek. “Can’t even fucking see straight right now.”

“Not that far gone,” you scoff, scritching your nails along his stubbled jaw. You could purr at the way he leans into it.

“Have to fix that, then.”

You prop yourself up with your other hand on his chest. His heart is beating beneath your palm, a little fast, but steady and strong. You adore it instantly.

You make eye contact, the hand on his face drifting to his cheek. Then you stretch to get the other… and squish. Just like he’s done to you countless times.

“Yes,” you agree.

That finally coaxes a proper chuckle out of him, bass deep and a little rough with disuse, but music to your ears. You let his cheeks go, nipping the little red marks your grip leaves behind.

“C’mon, Si,” you whisper. “Want your dick in me.”

And finally, it seems he’s run out of interest in teasing.

You lean your shoulders against him, letting him take most of your weight between his chest and the arm angling your hips. His other hand steadies his cock, drags the flushed, leaking head against your sopping entrance.

He lowers you slowly, encouraging you to dig your nails into his shoulders, draw them down his arms. Even stretched and two orgasms in, he’s big. It’s testing your limits, not quite pain, stinging in a way that makes your mouth water.

And your eyes.

The tears are back and streaming down your hot cheeks. When Simon notices, you feel his cock throb. You choke on a noise, mouth falling slack as he licks at them like a thirsting man in the desert.

“Didn’t take long,” he teases, a little mean. You love it.

“S-sensitive,” you whine, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know, pet,” he croons. “The head’s almost in.”

Just the head. Christ.

The pleasure keeps racking you and so do quiet little cries, your walls clutching every raw centimeter of his cock like he was built just for you. (Or the other way around, a depraved part of you whispers.)

He’s steady and patient as he fills you, keeping your mouth busy with claiming kisses when he’s not drinking up your tears. At the first rung of the Jacob’s ladder, you squeak and have to be held down, gone on how it stretches your poor entrance and grinds against your abused walls.

Each one after that garners a similar reaction, driving you insane as they press against you.

“Can feel your fucking heartbeat,” he groans at one point.

You moan, raking your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The blond strands are dark and messy, getting messier as you play with them. He grunts and his eyelids flutter every time you tug.

By the time he’s fully inside you, your ass resting on his tense thighs, you’re panting and trembling. He sweeps a hand up your arched spine and curls his fingers around the back of your neck. You lean into his hold, go lax as he guides you through a decadent, devouring kiss.

“There we are, lovely,” he soothes while you whimper. “Hurt?”

“A little…” you gasp, clenching helplessly around the base of him.

“Good,” he growls, teeth on your shoulder.

You moan, falling limp in his arms. He rumbles a pleased hum, squeezing at your hips and ass and thighs in that way you recognize.

“Stressed?” you ask, confused.

He snorts. “I don’t need a reason to play with what’s mine.”

You suck in a breath, the casual (and true) claim making your head spin.

“Relax, pet,” he murmurs. “Just get used to me inside you.”

You mewl, high and soft in your throat. He tilts his head to speak in your ear.

“Your pussy is going to remember the shape of me by the end of this.”

And your lieutenant doesn’t make idle threats.

He guides your head down to his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist. The lewdest hug you’ve ever received. If not for the fat cock stretching you, it would be calming.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he hums, drawing idle patterns along your spine. “Just drift. It’ll be a bit before you can handle a proper fucking.”

He’s so deep and big inside you that you believe it, but a nagging part reminds you of the uneven score.

“What about you?”

He presses an unusually gentle kiss to your temple, though it’s balanced by the tight squeeze to the back of your neck.

“Don’t you worry about me, precious,” he chuckles. “You’ll keep me nice and warm until you’re ready.”

You swallow thickly, can’t help how you flutter around him. It’s a delicious thought, just sitting here with him filling you up for an indefinite period of time, until he decides you can handle how he’s going to fuck you.

“Like that do you?” he muses, too dark to be truly amused. “Like being my personal cocksleeve?”

“’M not,” you mumble, feeling a new sting of tears.

He tuts. “You’re my toy every other way. No point pretending now.”

You whimper into his neck, bite in retaliation but don’t deny it. Well past the point of anything like plausible deniability.

“No more fussing, pet. Be good for me now.”

And you are, settling in with your mouth brushing absent kisses to his marked collarbones. His hands never stop stroking your skin, lulling you into empty-headed bliss. The full feeling of his cock never dissipates, but you become less aware of it, internal muscles accommodating the stretch. You don’t even realize you’ve slipped into a doze, breaths going deep and even, safely cradled in your lieutenant’s arms.

When you wake, watery early-morning light is leaking past the blackout curtains. One of your hips is stiff from sleeping bunched up, but that’s not what calls your immediate attention. No, it’s the absolute puddle that Simon is coaxing from your stuffed hole with his thumb on your clit. He’s hard inside of you again – or maybe he never got soft in the first place.

“Mornin’,” he rasps when he sees you peeking your head up. Calm as you please. Like his cockhead isn’t kissing your cervix right now.

“You bastard,” you wheeze, sinking a mean bite into his shoulder.

“Grumpy thing,” he teases. “Forgot how sulky you are before coffee.”

You grumble incomprehensibly for a moment. Can’t believe he put you to sleep on his cock. More than a little miffed that you didn’t receive the proper fucking you earned yesterday. That you’ve woken up raring to go already, want his cum in your stomach more than breakfast.

“You actually plan on doing anything?” you demand. “Or we going to the mess like this? Risky to have hot tea that close to your balls.”

His laugh is like honey, rich and syrupy. Liquid sunshine when you kiss it from his mouth.

“Remember who’s in charge here, pet,” he warns.

You tilt your head in question, arching an eyebrow.

“You,” he continues, surprising you. Then he keeps talking. “So if you keep acting like a brat, I’ll have to treat you like one.”

You shiver. It should be illegal to be so salacious this early in the morning. To your delight, he allows you to wiggle a little, testing the feeling of his cock inside you. It’s absolutely divine.

“Or, counterpoint,” you say, daring to be cheeky when he’s looking at you like that. Like he’d burn the world just to keep you warm for a night. “I was very good yesterday and deserve a reward.”

“That so, sergeant?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you chirp. Duck down to bribe him with kisses and nips along his jaw and neck, stubble prickling your bruised tongue. “I’ll even ask nicely.”

He groans, low and rough in his chest. “Yeah?”

You yelp as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, dragging your head back. His teeth scrape over the stuttering pulse in your throat, where there’s a sensitive spot that makes you squirm. His other hand sneaks to your breasts, tweaking a nipple still sore from his treatment the night before.

“Show me how nice you can ask then.”

And, well, not backing down from a challenge is what got you here in the first place.

You straighten up as best you can – have to take a moment when his cock grinds just right inside you – and arch your back. Your nails score lines down his chest, just this side of rough, knowing it’ll work better than any soft petting. Paired with nibbling kisses to the spot beneath his ear, you can already feel the rumble building in his chest.

“Simon, please,” you breathe, “I need you. Need it to be you.”

“Need what, lovely?” he husks.

“Need it to be you that fucks me.” You dare to rock your hips, pleased and distracted that he lets you. His fingers spread your ass wider over his lap. “Need you to break me in. Please?”

Sniper he may be, but his patience must already be gossamer thin from holding back last night and crammed inside your pussy until morning. He snaps at your crooning pleas, rolling you onto your back and grinding into you as deep as he can get.

There have been times in the field that you’ve stared as Simon operates his rifle. It’s his piece, modified and maintained in pristine condition. You’ve watched his clever fingers put it together, dismantle it, clean it, handle it with a deadly competence and precision that you envied. Not him, but the rifle. Probably something wrong with you, that you want to be an instrument, a tool, in your lieutenant’s capable hands, built up and broken apart at his whim.

Now, though… now you know. You’ve got confirmation that it’s everything you imagined and better, his scarred hands on you like he owns you, like you’re his to figure out. You want to be, you are, and you babble as much when he draws his hips back and snaps them forward.

There’s nothing testing or careful about it. Simon knows you’re not fragile, spent all night making sure you could take him exactly the way he wants you. You’ve never wanted him to hold back, don’t want him to now. Crave the way his control seems to slip when it’s you, your body, your voice egging him on.

He rolls his hips every time he bottoms out; his piercings grind deliciously against your twitching entrance with every thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair, tug when he pulls out as if he’s going to leave you empty and wanting. He grunts against your neck, teeth ravenous over skin that already bears their imprint.

It feels like freefall with no parachute, like getting caught in a perfect white-hot explosion. The force of him makes the bed creak, would shove you up the mattress if not for the tight grip on your thighs. His arm loops under the small of your back and angles your hips up.

“Mine,” he growls into your shoulder. “All fucking mine. My sergeant. My medic. My pretty toy.”

You can’t string together more than broken syllables, little noises forced out every time he drives home. He’s not looking for a verbal response though; your body is already singing its agreement, clamping down on his cock like you can’t stand any millimeter not inside you. You’re rocking with him as best you can, knee hitched up by his ribs, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

“I’m right here, doll. Not going anywhere,” he murmurs. Then, almost to himself. “No, not letting you out of my sight ever fucking again. Going to keep you right by my side, within reach.”

You cry out, ridiculously turned on by promises he can’t possibly keep. It’s not the nature of the job, but the fact that that’s what he wants…

“Go fucking crazy when I can’t see you,” he pants, “touch you. Was goin’ fuckin’ batshit all week. Gaz wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Just wanted to get my hands on you. My teeth in you.”

There’s an earnest, desperate edge to his words. Sounds like a sinner praying for salvation, like he’s begging some cruel god for relief. Or, more likely for your lieutenant, threatening to take that god’s place.

You’d worship Simon if he did. Practically do already. Would spread yourself out on his altar and let him devour you mind, body, and soul just to appease his appetite.

“Simon, please,” you cry, head tilting back, bearing your throat. “I’m yours. Your medic, your sergeant, your toy.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “That’s right, love. All mine.”

He pushes himself up, pressing his hand to the wall over your head. It’s gorgeous, the play of muscle and sinew in his arm. A fucking masterpiece of a man, beautiful and dangerous and right now, all fucking yours too.

The new leverage lets him slam into you faster and harder, frantic now. You have to brace your arms above your head to keep from knocking into the wall, pushing back to meet him thrust for brutal thrust. Could swear you feel him in your guts.

“C’mon, love, let me see those pretty tears.”

His hand slides over your thigh to your clit, thumb rubbing vicious little circles over the nerves. It gives him what he wants instantly, you’re near screaming as you cry. It’s rough and ruthless and has you so close to the edge that you’re almost jolting away.

“Lemme cum,” you beg, “Please, please, Simon, want to cum on your cock. So close…”

His grin is more just a bearing of teeth, eyes glittering in the shadows above you. “Cum for me, precious.”

It doesn’t take much more than that, always eager to please your lieutenant. His hips and finger sync up at just the right moment, just the right way, and you’re gushing over his cock, voice breaking. Your nails scrape the wall as you curl our hands into fists, bucking as he fucks you through it.

You’re not surprised when he doesn’t even slow down, though you reach to push his hand off your screaming clit. His hand darts from the wall to capture your wrists, pinning them over your head. The punishing rhythm of his hips doesn’t even falter, bullying that spot inside you relentlessly.

“I didn’t say you could fucking stop,” he snarls.

You whine and struggle, but that just makes you tighter, makes him rougher, makes it better. You’re not even sure if the cresting sensation is pleasure anymore, if it’s another orgasm or your body reaching max capacity. It’s just whiteout intense and you can do nothing but lay there writhing.

“Gonna cum in you,” he moans, head dropping. “Gonna leave my mark inside you too.”

You contract around him helplessly, his thrusts getting messier, plunging into you at a dizzying speed. Not even sure if you’re making noise anymore, or just sucking in air when you can get it. His fingers flex around your wrists, tight and unforgiving.

And then there's a burst of heat as he moans, sounding gutting. He fucks you through his own orgasm before finally slowing, and then stopping buried deep inside you. His thumb eases off your abused clit, hand landing on the bed beside your hip. Your leg flops down to the mattress, stretched out and still twitchy.

“How copy, sergeant?” he rasps.

“Solid, LT,” you wheeze. “You?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

That startles a little giggle out of you, grinning up at him fucked-out and high on afterglow. His returning smile, small and disused as it is, is better than all the orgasms you’ve had in the last twelve hours.

“Gonna pull out now,” he warns. “Brace.”

Even prepared, you still yelp, beyond sensitive and cored without him inside you. The feeling is only exacerbated by the warm cum you can feel dripping down your ass from your used hole.

“Look at that…” he drawls appreciatively, tilting his head for a good look. “There any part of you that ain’t pretty?”

You groan and cover your overheated face, knock your shin into his hip. But you leave your legs open.

“Shut up, Simon.”

“Insubordinate.”

“Fraternizer.”

“Mm. Gonna report me to Price?”

“Only if you report me.”

“Mutually assured destruction then.”

Your mouth is still hidden under your hands, but you know he can see your body shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Or you could help me clean up, take a nap, and we’ll negotiate terms for a ceasefire.”

He chuckles. “Should have you on a diplomatic envoy, Squeaks. Have the rest of us out of a job. No wars, no soldiers.”

You shake your head, dropping your arms to card through his hair. He lowers himself onto you – not his usual full-force flop, but still by no means delicate about it. You like the weight of him on your tingling body. Feels like he’s keeping you from floating away.

“Only way they’re getting me on protection detail for politicians is if you’re there with me.”

He grimaces. It’s stupidly charming how it makes a scar on his nose scrunch up. “The point is to stop incidents, not start them.”

“Shame, then,” you hum. “Guess we’re stuck here then.”

“Guess so.”

He pats your thigh, then pushes himself up. You protest immediately, but he shushes you with a wry smirk.

“Part of the terms, wasn’t it? To clean you up?”

You grumble but subside, thankful that officer quarters come with an ensuite. It doesn’t take him long to return with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He sets the latter on the side table and kneels between your thighs, wiping you down as gently as he’s ever been.

When he’s done, you make grabby hands until he scoffs and climbs in with you again.

“Nap?” you ask hopefully.

“Yeah. Got you up early. Still an hour ‘til breakfast.”

Not for the first (or likely last) time, you are grateful for Simon’s brilliant tactics.

“You’re my hero.”

He snorts, but when you peek up at him, there’s a fetching pink tint to his cheeks. “Go the fuck to sleep, Squeaks.”

“Yessir.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #cross posted on ao3 #old fic #sergeant squeaks #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

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moonchild1 · 10 months

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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

5K notes · View notes

violettaskies · 1 year

Text

Of Books & Beasts

Prompt: virginity

Paring: best friend!steve harrington x f!reader

Genre: romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, one bed trope

Notes: wc 9.1k // my first kinktober story (one of five) // hope everyone enjoys it // it’s very soft // a little scary movie night sleep over // reader falls asleep next to steve and things get a little steamy // i wrote everything to have as much consent as possible // steve is a bit of a perv lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // slight somnophilia, dry humping, virginity loss, vaginal fingering // masturbation // smut // 'just the tip' is used once or twice // please let me know if there is anymore that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

The night was meant to be a simple one. After weeks of assignments, exams, quizzes, and extracurricular activities at college, all you wanted to do was relax. Well, you still had one more assignment left to do, but maybe you were able to kill two birds with one stone, right?

Luckily, this assignment was one that you could easily ask for help with from your friend. Someone who always stole movies for you to borrow on many weekends anyways. With your class being based on books which turned into film adaptations, it means a lot of time spent reading and watching. In truth, you felt bad for your classmates who had to rent out the tapes for extended periods just to finish analysis for assignments; all while you didn’t even need to bat an eyelash in Steve’s direction for him to hide movies in your backpack while his manager wasn’t looking.

With the theme of this particular assignment matching the season and going with horror films, a movie night was something that you craved. Thick sweaters, even thicker blankets, a bit of hot chocolate, and candy from the grocery store that had the orange and black packaging — they were all of the aspects to the marathon you proposed when you walked into Family Video on a Friday afternoon after you got off the bus. Despite all of your convincing tactics, your friend already had his answer long before you began to ask.

“Anything for you, dove. I’ll get everything on this list for us,” Steve smiled at you, after looking at the assignment rubric, as you stood on the other side of the cash register.

“Alright, maybe I should place a pizza order now so that we don’t starve during the Friday dinner rush tonight,” you said sweetly as you nervously thought about what to order.

“Don’t you worry about it, it’s on me. Let me treat you a little.”

“I’m the one who asked you to have a movie marathon with me, I should really be the one paying,” you insisted while you brought your hand closer to the telephone.

But, quickly, the man was able to grasp it lightly to stop you from moving towards the numbers. You could never admit just how much your skin tingled at the touch. “I’m serious. This shift finishes in twenty minutes, then I can drive us home and I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me, dove. I can even help out with your stress relief later. Maybe I’ll bend —”

“Please don’t continue that sentence,” you cut him off easily. Steve always loved to tease you and any eavesdroppers who may be listening in and theorizing if you two were dating or not. The town is full of gossip fiends. “Any louder and people will start to believe you.”

The younger Harrington chuckled as he got out from behind the counter to stand fully in front of you. He adored to see the way you outwardly pretended you hated the fake moves he would pull. From him putting his arm around your shoulder whilst walking around town, whistling every other time he picked you up from the city bus stop, to intimidating every guy who looked in your direction for too long. However, both of you never knew the other wished for it all to be real.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good and stop teasing you,” he chuckled lowly.

“Thank you,” you smiled to yourself before looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “So will you also be buying garlic knots tonight too?”

“Yes, as long as you promise to stay awake until the final movie, sleepy girl.”

-:-:-:-:-

You, in fact, did not stay awake the whole movie night. It wasn’t Tim Curry’s fault either. Normally, it was tradition for you two to end off every evening like this with one musical or something more lighthearted to offset the mood. But the day just exhausted you from every angle, that once you finally got to relax and watch a movie for leisure — you relaxed a little too hard. Adding the components of the cold pizza and Steve putting a blanket on you while continuously keeping a grasp on your knee, you were bound to knock out before the movie ended. Later, it was Steve who woke you up with a whisper in your ear. The sound shocked you at first, and then when you opened your eyes to see the man kneeling in front of you, it did cause a slightly loud gasp to escape your lips. After some groaning on your end about not wanting to intrude, you finally gave in to the invitation Steve gave to let you sleep over tonight. The main contributing factor had to be the fact that the man had a really nice blanket and pillow set that felt like it came from a hotel.

However, as you both ended off the night in your room, it was Steve who began to groan — although, it was due to pure frustration.

“I don’t have any clean clothes,” your host said as he rummaged through his drawers.

“How about any sweater and some of those long johns your mother always buys you?” you giggled as you sat on the bed now, reading a book you recently checked out from the library.

“Or you could always sleep naked, I heard it’s really healthy for you. Plus, I would not mind at — ow,” Steve was on his little sarcastic joke before you threw an old pair of socks at his head.

“Maybe I should just head home, this feels like such a nuisance to you,” you smiled and whispered shyly.

Steve really was trying hard to find you something to sleep in. So much so that it caused some sweat to drop on his forehead. But, truly, the man was standing there trying to work up the courage to ask you to put on one of his old swim team sweaters and a cotton pair of shorts he knew would hug your body beautifully.

Yes, you have slept over before when you were younger. However, those were all planned out with you bringing something from home. Well, there was one emergency where you stayed the night due to a horrific snow storm; but, Mrs. Harrington was there to give you your Christmas present a few weeks early and allow you to sleep in some pyjamas which were covered in cute bunnies. This was the first time you would be here spontaneously alone with Steve — and god, did he feel like all of his prayers were answered. The amount of times he has imagined you laying on his bed, committing the most sinful acts, in various positions and scenarios, could be seen as absolutely perverted. So to have the opportunity to have you on his bed, wearing his clothes, covered in his blanket; it all seemed unfathomable to the man.

“Here,” Steve exclaimed quickly so that you would actually stay. “Maybe you would be alright with this sweatshirt and some shorts?”

“This is more than alright. Thank you, Steve,” You skipped off to the washroom to finally get ready for bed and let your friend change into his own pyjamas.

However, when you got the clothing on, it was so embarrassing to stare into the mirror. Everything fits fine — and on a normal day at home, you would probably wear something similar. But remembering the fact that you would be sleeping next to your best friend was so nerve wracking. It was just a lot shorter than what you would usually wear around him if you did wear a skirt or shorts. You just thanked the heavens that the blanket would be covering your legs so that you didn’t feel as exposed.

Not that you believed Steve would try anything; not that you didn’t want him to try anything either. But, you were scared of getting so cold and cuddling too close to him like you did last December during the winter storm. Waking up in Steve’s arms caused your heart to flutter so harshly that your heart rate didn’t go down for days. It made you think about how badly you wished you could wake up to his handsome face everyday. Most especially, it made you think about how nicely his leg felt right in between your thighs, and the way it massaged your —

No.

This was an innocent sleepover like the thousands that other best friends have had over the years. All you had to do was sleep next to him with a pillow between your bodies and hope you didn’t accidentally roll your way into his arms again. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the heartbreak of knowing that being entwined in each other’s arms would not last forever.

“Do you want the left or right side of the bed?” Steve called out from the other side of the door, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Anything is fine,” you replied whilst opening the door. Seeing that Steve was laying in the middle, ready to roll over to whichever side you preferred. The image of him with arms and legs spread out made you giggle.

“The left side is closer to the lamp if you’d like to read a bit before sleeping,” he said as he shifted over to the ride side of the bed and patted to your new spot.

“Are you a mind reader or something?” you chuckled between steps.

Steve put the book in the air as you tucked yourself into bed, a nice distance away from him. Once he saw you were comfortable, he placed the book gently in your lap and said: “no, but I could tell your little nap will probably have you staying awake for the next hour or so.”

“Oh, if the light is gonna bother you then I can turn it off and head to sleep too.”

The concern in your eyes was absolutely beautiful. As you started up at him with the lamp glowing behind you, you looked like a nymph in the night. And oh how Steve knew he would be the luckiest man alive to sleep next to you.

“Go ahead, dove. I can sleep through anything,” he whispered lowly whilst rubbing your thigh that was covered by the thick blanket. “What’s it about anyways?”

You took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. Steve’s touch caused you to feel warm, even more so when he squeezed your thigh every few moments. “Not too sure about the entire plot since I’m only on chapter two. But it’s about a prince and his beast companion. They’ve been best friends for a long time and are going on adventures. This was in the romance section so I’m guessing the best friends fall in love,” you rambled, getting quieter with the last few words.

What a dream.

“Is it dirty?” Steve teased as he sunk further underneath the blanket.

“No, I-I’ve never read a story like that before,” you said sternly.

“Oh, I believe you,” his voice got deeper and slower with each word, only indicating that he was bound to fall asleep any second. “Have fun reading.”

They were the last words he said before drifting off to sleep peacefully next to you. Luckily, that meant it was a lot easier to read the rest of the book until you felt your own eyes start closing and the words on the page started to become blurry.

It was a beautiful story, full of lore and love, a mix of historical fiction and mythology. After reading and watching stories based on the horror genre for a few weeks now, it was nice to have a little bit of a break and just read about love. Your heart started to feel warm and giddy as each page passed — even going as far as quietly giggling when you felt your cheeks feel warm as a result of the prince’s romantic actions throughout the book. You didn’t even notice that you were sinking further and further into the blanket because you were so engrossed in the imaginary world. It didn’t even matter that the angle made your back hurt a little.

Well, not really. Once you started to feel stiff, you moved into a straighter position. However, you were interrupted by a low and groggy voice.

“You want to get under here?” Steve asked you through half-lidded eyes and his arm moving to invite you to move even closer into his body.

Wordlessly, you accepted the offer and went right up to Steve’s body. The book was on his chest while your cheek was at his side. Everything felt so comfortable and domestic — a part of you wished this could last forever.

But right then, the storyline of the book went on a different path, to say the least.

You see, the prince got hurt whilst fighting off some evil spirits. He was bleeding everywhere and in so much pain. But the companion, a beautiful wolf-demon, was able to heal his wounds to the point where it wouldn’t be so life threatening. It was so simple, to use a little magic and bandages in hopes of survival, but the author was able to portray it wonderfully. To thank the woman, the prince moved his arms around her to hold her a warm embrace. It was so sweet, just like the position you were in now. However, it took a turn for the romantics. A little too romantic. An activity you definitely were not currently doing with Steve.

The man kissed her sweetly: from her shoulders, up to her neck, then finally landed on her plump lips. It was beautiful, so serene, accompanied by a drawing of the two in bed with locked lips and legs. Slowly, she started to rock against his leg, adoring the pressure against the place no one had touched before. As she gasped into each kiss, the prince smiled in tandem. Even moving his hips to help the lady feel more pleasure. You wondered how that felt, it was only a slight movement of the hips — there was no way it could feel that good.

But you were so wrong.

Just as you tried to move positions, Steve moved his leg upwards, moving his thigh right against your heat. It felt so good, to the point where you bit your lip to suppress the whimper that was about to escape your lips. The man next to you, tried to find a better position to sleep in too, moving his legs some more until it found solace as it intertwined with your own legs.

Fuck, it felt really good. You tried so hard not to move your hips in tandem so that you could amp up the pleasure. So instead, you continued to read, trying to focus on the writing techniques and nothing else. However, you only began noting the things the characters did with one another. How they whispered sweet nothings as they continued their game to see how long it would take the lady to climax. And you noticed the way you felt warm between your legs, a slight throbbing to seal the deal.

Maybe in another world you would wake up Steve and ask him to let you out of his embrace so that you could excuse yourself to the washroom and down. But not in this one. In this world, you were at peace in his arms. In this world, you really didn’t care about the throbbing ache between your legs because you were extremely sleepy. In this world, you would convince yourself that it would pass. In this world, the sound of both your hearts beating as one was enough of a lullaby to cause even the most stubborn of characters to sleep. Just as you did now, with the book still on Steve’s chest, and your bodies squeezing closer together.

-:-:-:-:-

Steve was an extremely heavy sleeper when he was with you. Most of the time, you would be awake first during these little sleepovers and do something before he even pried his eyes open and then decided to keep them shut because of the sun seeping through the windows. It wouldn’t surprise Steve to see you reading at your desk or braiding friendship bracelets when you had that arts n’ crafts phase a couple years ago. This time, however, he was the one who awoke in the middle of the night to movement from beside him. Maybe it was due to some level of paranoia he has gained over the past few years regarding a life that he wishes you would never need to experience. It’s funny that you were reading books with monsters the world has nightmares about, while he was one of the people who was facing them. He wishes so badly to protect you from all of it. So when you started moving in your sleep, something you never do, Steve felt his body wake up in an instant.

His eyes were having trouble fully opening themselves as he could hear faint whimpering sounds coming from you and slight movements near his thigh. It was enough to turn his head to the left to see what was wrong. But nothing was wrong per se. If anything this was right out of a perverted fantasy he has had millions of times before.

As his eyes finally came into focus at what was in front of him, Steve could only smile and thank the heavens. You were laying in the same position you initially fell asleep in: book held in your hand, it being face down on Steve’s chest on a particular page, while your own face was on the side of his chest. But, the thing that surprised him the most was the grip your thighs had around his own. Slowly, your hips were thrusting back and forth against his leg, humping over and over. Whenever your body hit the perfect spot against your clit, you would mewl against his chest, sending a vibration through his body. Your hard nipples would poke Steve’s stomach once in a while too.

Good Lord, he was so distracted by the vision of you thrusting against his thigh, that he didn’t realize just how hard he had become. He only noticed it when your leg tensed up and moved towards his crotch, touching the underside and head in the process.

You were about to become the death of him tonight.

Curiously, he picked up the book you were reading to put it on the bedside table, when the words jumped out at him.

“And then the prince lifted the dress of the maiden beast. How scary she was to the eyes of the kingdom, but how beautiful she looked with swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. She was wet, so wet that it seeped through the layers of clothing.”

Just then, Steve looked down to notice how your wetness was doing the same thing. Your arousal had gone past your shorts and went onto the cotton bottoms he was wearing. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man skipped a few paragraphs to see just exactly what the prince and his lady were up to. Words of biting, screaming, thrusting harshly against the wall, even scratches along one another’s backs. It was pornographic, it was beautiful, and Steve was shocked that your virgin eyes read through some of this before falling asleep.

If only he could recreate it with you. Seeing you moan and move to your lust-filled slumber was more than enough of a dream come true to the man. But this was wrong. So wrong. You both were best friends. He loved you, wished he could be more with you. But he believed that wasn’t worthy of you. You were the princess this whole town adored while he was just a former playboy many people seemed to dislike sometimes. There was a part of him that wanted to see how long it would take for you to come against his leg. However, his guilt took over quickly.

“Wake up, my dove. It’s getting hot in here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The mixture of blankets and his arousal made Steve sweat through his clothes easily.

“Hm? What?” You rolled more onto his chest, your weight atop his body nicely. It would have been the world’s most comfortable position, one that would start off most of his perverted fantasies about you; however, he had to stop himself from thrusting against your thigh that was now perfectly on top of his hardness. “Feels so nice, Stevie,” you murmured, still half-asleep.

“Fuck — you really like that, huh?” The man whispered as you looked up at him with glazed eyes. You were still not cognizant that what you were doing was not in a dream.

“I feel so warm down there, your leg is massaging me nicely,” you moaned whilst humping some more. “Kiss me, please.”

Every move you were doing, every word you were saying, every whimper that came out of your throat — the man has imagined it all before. You were all of his greatest fantasies come to life. He wished so badly to ravish you on the spot and satiate all of the pent-up pleasure your body needed to release. Your lips were swollen now from all of the biting you’ve been doing to quiet down your moans; but, good god, the man was going to memorize it all for the sake of his future sessions with his right hand.

Steve really needed to stop this, and fully wake you up as soon as possible. This wasn’t the normal you, you didn’t even realize exactly what you were doing. “Pretty girl, no matter how much I want to continue this, we can’t.” The words fell from his lips painfully.

“Why not? You don’t feel good?” You whimpered as you reached up and put your arms around Steve’s neck, stopping your hips’ movements all together.

“Feels so good, baby,” Steve moaned loudly this time as he thrusted against your leg like he imagined a million times before. It wasn't helping that you thought your face closer to his in order to hear his breathy moans easier. The man was so close to leaning forward and kissing your plump lips. “But, this isn’t a dream, and you’re not fully awake. I don’t want you to regret this—”

The man was going to ramble on and continue to comfort you into waking up fully. However, you got the message loud and clear. So much so, that your heart dropped and you gasped.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll move over t-there — ah.” The moan coming out of your mouth was completely involuntary as you lifted your body up and intended on moving down and away from Steve’s figure.

“Did that feel good?” Steve teased, now that you were both fully cognizant of your sleeping status.

“I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” If only you could apologize a million times, because you would; your guilty conscience would make sure of it.

“You probably had some sweet dreams, huh?”

Just as you were separated from the man, you heard his words and looked over at his figure. Through the dim lighting of the lamp, you could see that he was holding up the novel you were reading before bed, and it was open to the very scene that inspired any of your hormone-induced movements tonight.

“Oh no,” you whispered. Looking down, there was a wet spot on Steve’s thigh where your heat was pressed against. He was admiring it as if he were memorizing just how it looks. And he was. “This is so embarrassing,” you though out loud

“It’s no big deal, dove. Guys have nudie magazines and a video here and there. I would never judge you for a little novel,” Steve chuckled as he sat up to the headboard to mirror your actions.

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that in the story,” you whispered.

“Did you like it?” Your friend was genuinely curious. Throughout your history as friends, you had never even asked him for advice about relationships — this erotic chapter of the novel must have been a shocking first exposure to it all.

You thought about the question for a few moments. Remembering the emotions and fire you felt in different parts of your body, you could really only tell him the truth. “Y-yeah, I suppose so.”

“Then don’t feel embarrassed or bad about it,” Steve nudged your shoulder sweetly to make you feel less embarrassed over the situation. “Never thought you were into reading it in front of other people though.”

“Don’t tease,” you pouted, putting your head under the blanket to hide from the embarrassment.

“I’ll stop, I promise. But, you did give me a wonderful way to wake up,” you could hear him smiling just by the sound of his voice.

Those words made you slowly peek your way out of the thick blanket to see Steve looming over you with a smirk that teased your soul. The lamp in the room made him glow, while the moon’s beams that were seeping through the blinds made him look like one of the many drawings of the prince in the book you were just reading. It took all the strength within you, not to squeeze your thighs together and satiate the throbbing between them.

“Let’s never talk about this again,” you whispered, the blanket still covering your mouth.

“If that’s what you would be comfortable with,” Steve chuckled as he laid back in his spot.

“Y-yes, I would be.”

After a moment of awkward silence, you both in regular sleeping positions, Steve wanted to break the ice a bit. “It is a well-written book. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.”

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, grabbing a small pillow on the bed and lightly hitting his chest with it.

“Learn anything while reading? You could use me as a practice dummy.” The man laid on his side now, looking at you as he put on a seductive tone.

“You’re just a dummy, Steve,” you playfully scoffed with a giggle.

“That was the last one, promise. Sweet dreams, dove.”

In truth, Steve wanted you to sleep as quickly as possible so that he could make his way to the washroom and get rid of his hard problem. It was hurting now, even as he tried to think about anything else that would possibly subside his arousal. Your movements and moans will never be erased from his mind. Steve’s imagination was running wild with how you actually sounded as you were feeling pleasure.

No one has ever thanked a book more in the history of mankind.

“Is that what sex is like?” You whispered into the night, cutting off the man’s thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied as he turned to his side to look at you staring up to the ceiling.

“In the book, they talk about it like it happens so fast and hard,” you said the words with a concerned tone while turning your body towards his to face him.

“Well, it can be fast and hard if the couple wants it that way. But, taking it slow is nice too,” the man next to you chuckled sweetly.

You felt dumb asking the question. For years, you have known that Steve was a lot more experienced than you in the department of relations with the opposite sex. There have been countless times where Steve would tell you about any dates that he has gone on, or imply lewd acts he committed with his girlfriend of the week. And all you would do is nod out of pure curiosity. However, this was the first time you outright spoke about sex with him.

“Right, right, that makes sense. It must feel really nice,” you continued your thoughts.

“It does. Everything is so warm and wet. The noises too are something you’ll never forget. My hand and imagination does not do it justice sometimes.” Right then, Steve’s mind went through flashbacks of times he has laid in bed with the image of you stuck as his muse. He has imagined the way you would react and moan to things he would do with you. Would you bite your lip whilst looking down between your bodies? Would you whimper in the same way you do when you beg Steve to drive you somewhere and he just had a long day at work? Anything you would do would be erotic, and enough fire for him to reach the happiest of endings. However, by the end, he would pray for the day he could experience the real thing with you.

“I wonder what it will be like for me,” you giggled, bringing the blanket close to your face again.

“You got a good idea a few minutes ago,” Steve teased as he looked you up and down.

All you could do was hit his shoulder then hide your face into it as he leaned back onto the bed. “It did feel really, really nice, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You liked it, didn’t you?” he said, trying to soothe your embarrassment of it all. As he squeezed his arm around you tighter to have you closer to his chest, Steve realized that your bare thighs had found their way around his again. You looked so beautiful cuddling next to him, tightening your legs slowly. “Then, maybe I can help. You didn’t get to finish, sweet girl.”

The deepness of Steve’s voice resonated through your entire body as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. His proposal sounded so good. You felt this constant throbbing between your legs that only increased ten-fold every time you and Steve accidentally breathed too close together. As you gripped his chest with your hands, and his thigh with your own — you really craved to continue the pleasure you were feeling moments before.

“I didn’t even know that I started,” you pouted.

“Oh, but finishing is one of the best parts,” he teased whilst moving his thigh upwards to massage your cunt slowly.

“Steve—” you moaned like music to his ears.

Your friend began to move his thigh up and down to stroke your pussy, hitting your clit from the right angle to make you bite your lip in between whimpers. He held your face sweetly, making sure that he could see how every movement affected you. Steve was sure that the image of your pupils getting darker would be engraved in his mind forever.

“My best friend needs help, and you know I would do anything for you,” he whispered, hovering his lips above yours.

“More, please.”

“So polite,” Steve teased, quickening his pace and moving one hand to your breasts. “Doing such a dirty thing and now you’re being so nice.”

“I feel so — I feel like I need more,” you said quietly as if it were a desperate plea.

Steve squeezed your right breast sweetly, pinching your hardened nipple through the thick sweater fabric. He noted how you thrusted yourself against his thigh and nearly fell onto his lips as you moaned.

“Is your body on fire? You feel nice, dove,” he smiled, kissing your cheek to tease you.

“So good. Kiss me, Steve, please.” You weren’t sure what took over your body in that moment, but you gripped onto his hair and leaned your lips towards his. Yet, he was the one who kissed you first. It was a kiss that made the angels sing above you, one that you both have been imagining for years and years. Hearing all of the stories of girls in school raving about his talents with his mouth and tongue — a part of you could never believe that he would be that amazing.

But, you were wrong, so wrong.

As he kissed you deeply, poking his tongue through to taste you more, you couldn’t help but whimper loudly into the kiss. Steve adored it, promising himself to try everything he could to hear every variation of your beautiful sounds. Just when he brought a hand down to your back, urging your hips to move forwards on his leg, you swear you were about to see stars. This is what all the magazines were talking about. This is what all the whispered conversations during girl talk were giggling about. This is what the novel you were just reading was writing about when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. You remembered what the lady did in the book, and decided to emulate her actions. Although you were slowing down your kisses, your hand found its way to Steve’s clothed hardness. It was nearly peeking out of the sweatpant elastic by now which made you gasp in surprise.

“God, what did you learn in that book?” Steve moaned as he felt your delicate hand on him.

“The characters in the story were really good friends too. She was always tempted to be the one who helped him out when he was really stressed out.” You smiled into the kiss, noticing how teasing him only made you wetter.

You hand gripped his hardness some more, focusing on the large head that could be felt through the fabric.

“Here I thought that was going to be my job tonight,” Steve’s voice was low now as he kissed you down your neck and moved the hand that was previously on your back, to your front. The shorts you were wearing rode up to tighten upon your cunt. The fabric squeezed your clit, and caused your arousal to get all over the place where your thighs met.

Steve pushed the fabric to the side, noticing how you didn’t wear panties to sleep, and started to lightly massage your clit. “Oh God,” you moaned into his mouth while arching your back.

The movement made Steve want to lay you down on your back to have easier access between your legs. Although you whimpered in slight disappointment when you didn’t feel the pressure of his thigh, that all went away when the man teased your wet entrance with his fingers before going up to your clit again.

“No panties, huh? You’re bound to be the death of me.”

“I normally don’t wear any to bed if I’m wearing shorts,” you whispered, moving yourself to feel his fingers more against your nub.

“Is it alright if I take these off?” He barely got the question out before you began to nod.

Looking at you in all your glory was absolutely mind blowing to Steve. He swears that he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he saw your arousal dripping on his sheets. The light from the lamp made you look like you were glowing, and the man was so tempted to taste what he has been craving for so long. But, he took it slow, circling your clit faster and faster as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. As every moan was swallowed by him, Steve began to thrust himself upon the side of your hip to satiate his arousal.

The moment he stopped kissing you for a moment, he wordlessly looked you in the eye, teasing your entrance now with his fingers. With a nod and smile through bitten lips, you gave him full permission to fill your hole that has been desperately throbbing around nothingness.

“Feels so good, Stevie. Keep doing that, please,” you groaned as he fingered you deeper and deeper.

“Are you close, dove? Are you gonna come? You’re so tight, can barely fit these two fingers,” Steve teased as he kissed your neck to make you moan louder.

“More — need more.” The grip you had on his hair became tighter as you pushed yourself down on his hand, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers. Feeling so stretched out was a brand new experience. You were never one to masturbate, even when everyone mentioned it was so much fun. Everything from seeing a hot guy at the mall, a rockstar who was shirtless on the cover of a magazine, or the angle of a showerhead accidentally focusing on a sweet spot — none of those experiences ever happened in your life. In truth, nothing ever made you curious enough to even try to see if other things would have a similar effect. But something about this night made you want to experience it all with Steve.

The man quickened his pace with his fingers, using one hand to thrust into you while the other massaged your clit sweetly. Your moans echoed through the room as you arch your back in ecstasy. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your throat made you want to thrust against his hand harder, but you were too overwhelmed to move your hips in tandem. Instead, you lifted up your shirt and started to squeeze your lonely nipples.

You aren’t sure what took over — all you knew was that everything felt so good.

“Fuck, you really do have the most perfect tits,” Steve whispered to himself when he got up from your neck. He felt your movements and thought something was wrong. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of your swollen nipples, eager for some sort of touch. When he saw your fingers squeeze your right nipple, he could not handle it anymore and dove down to suck on them, leaving marks on your smooth skin.

“Steve, everything you’re doing feels so good,” you moaned.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? I know you can do it.”

And you did. Loudly. Just those words, working in tandem with his fingers and mouth, were more than enough to make you orgasm into oblivion. Steve had two fingers inside of you whilst his thumb was massaging your clit in small circles. You barely had the strength to tell him how good it felt since you were shaking below him in pleasure. All you could do was grasp Steve’s hair as he kissed one nipple of yours to the next. It was your very first orgasm, and you were welcoming it with open arms.

“So nice —” you whimpered incoherently.

Steve kissed you, swallowing in your moans of ecstasy. “I’m never gonna get tired of that sound,” he teased as he took out his fingers from inside of you and just massaged your clit as you got down from your high.

“So much better than reading a book,” you giggled as your body calmed down.

“Maybe we gotta find you crazier books then,” Steve smiled with you while kissing your soft lips.

The kiss became deeper as you embraced one another. Your friend found his way on top of you which felt so surreal. Throughout your friendship, you never believed that some of your naughty dreams that you pushed to the side, would ever come true. Steve was having the same thoughts; however, he never pushed those dreams to the side. More likely, he would take care of any hard problem that was in between his legs. But, kissing you only made him throb harder. Especially now that he knows what your pussy felt like on his fingertips,

“Again — I can take more,” you whispered between kisses.

“Needy girl, you really want to?” Steve asked, making sure this wasn’t a dream for him now.

“Mhm, yes, what if we slipped it in?” your hand moved down his body and to the waistband of his pants. Without even stretching the fabric, you looked up at him with sweet eyes. “Would it feel good too? Maybe just the tip?”

Fuck.

Steve needed to calm himself down. He was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, watching you orgasm on his sheets. Even now, as the remnants of your arousal covered his fingers, he wondered how it would feel against his hardness. But, Steve couldn’t do that to you now. Especially knowing the fact that it would be your first time. However, the lust that clouded your eyes as you pouted up at him, was convincing him slowly.

The conflict on Steve’s face was so apparent that you whispered: “oh, we don’t need to—”

“Fuck, I want to,” Steve kissed you sweetly. “Are you sure, baby? Sure that you can take it all?”

“Yes, yes, I promise you that I can,” you smiled up at him and then bit your lips out of a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

You kissed one another again, not being to stand the time your lips were apart from each other’s. As you did so, Steve brought his hands under your sweater to nearly rip it off of you — leaving you beautifully naked on his plaid sheets. His hands were calling to him, telling him that one day he needed to take a picture of you like this. But, there is going to be another time, surely. Right now, he wanted to satiate your body’s cravings. As you stared up at him and squeezed your thighs together, Steve was truly about to combust.

“It’s kinda cold,” you giggled as you stared down at your hardened nipples. Then, you sat up slightly to meet his lips again, but not without whispering close to his mouth. “Can I take off your clothes too?”

With those words, Steve helped you take off his tight shirt and sweatpants. You’ve been teasingly touching it throughout tonight’s escapades; however, seeing his hardness in all its glory, stunned you. It was a lot thicker and longer than you initially believed. In truth, there were countless moments where you had gotten a glimpse of his size. Like the times he invited you to his backyard to swim, and he always seemed to choose tighter swim shorts every week. Or the one time he forgot to bring a towel into the shower so you brought one to him, thinking that he was going to keep the shower curtain atop his body for some modesty; however, when you were on your way out the room, he let go of the plastic curtain a bit too early and you saw a definite outline from the side of your eyes. Every single time, no matter how crazy the situation may be, you felt warm all over your body. This time, however, seeing the way it hung and the precum leaking out of it, you were hypnotized to say the least.

“One sec, dove,” Steve whispered as he saw that you were about to touch it. You looked to see that he bent his body to reach his nightstand and take out a little clear bottle.

“What is that?” You asked innocently as you began to stroke him while he wasn’t looking.

“I-it’s — fuck — it’s lube. We could use a little if you wanted to,” Steve said seriously before bringing a hand to your arousal and massaging your clit sweetly. “Not sure if we will need much,” he teased.

Steve kissed you again, having you lay down on the bed fully. He thrusted his hardness against your pussy a few times, seeing how you reacted to the feeling. You adored it, mewling every time the head of his cock coincided with your clit. In truth, you both could have been doing this for the rest of the night until you two came; however, you were throbbing around nothing and you craved to feel more stretched out than with Steve’s fingers.

You broke away from the kiss, eyeing the bottle of lube curiously, before Steve grabbed it and put it in your hands to look at closer. There were times you saw a similar bottle in the drug store and noticed they were next to the condoms and pregnancy tests. You saw that there were big bold letters on the front: ‘for her pleasure,’ which confused you slightly. But, you decided to give it a try anyways — it must be something good, you guessed.

“Let's use a little, Steve.”

“Yeah, sure. You want me to put it on?” He asked sweetly as he outstretched his hand.

“N-no, I wanna try something,” you smiled up at him before putting a dollop of the gel in your right hand. “You’re so big, Stevie. You’re gonna stretch me out so good.”

Your words were hypnotizing the man above you as you circled your hand over his cock and stroked a few times. And to think that he believed that he was to be taking the lead tonight.

“F-fuck, dove. Your hands are so soft.” Steve’s moans were making you wetter by the second. You felt your heat throb harshly around nothing, before you moved your hips upwards a little and guided his cock into you.

Just the tip — you said the words before.

But, fuck, it felt so nice that you both needed so much more. Steve stayed still above you as he watched the way you move your hips to bounce on his cock from below. Inch by inch, you thrusted yourself upon his lube-covered hardness, causing moans to echo through the room as you got stretched out.

This was so much better than you both could have ever dreamed of.

“So hard,” you whispered as you got in the last inch and took all of Steve’s cock in.

“You’re taking me so well, dove. So fucking wet,” he said as he kissed you and let you get used to the large size.

“Feels nice.”

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Steve whispered as he kissed your lips one last time before moving his mouth down your neck and finally thrusting his hips into you.

Everything seemed to amplify ten-fold. All of the pleasure, moans, tingling, stretching — it all felt so nice. It was if you two were the only people in the world, with the sky changing from a navy blue to a bright orange. Sweet nothings were whispered into the air as you both wanted to give each other the poetic justice you deserved.

Steve kissed you every time he heard your moans get louder and louder, wanting to taste your ecstasy. He moved back and forth from kissing your lips, to your neck, to your breasts. It all made you grip his hair tightly no matter where he was focusing on your body.

“Keep going please, Steve. Everything feels so full,” you screamed incoherently.

“God, you're throbbing around me. I don’t think I can take it.” The man above you was thrusting into you at an increasingly faster pace, missing the feeling of your warm pussy every time he was even an inch out of you.

“Steve, I wanna feel you cum,” you whispered before grabbing his hair to have him stop sucking on your nipples in order to look at you.

He adored how needy you were. “Dirty little mouth, Princess.”

“Need more — need you to go faster.”

“You know I've been dreaming about this moment time and time again. Who knew all it would take is a dirty novel, isn’t that right?” Steve teased as he reached town and pinched your clit playfully.

“You’ll never regret driving me to the bookstore from now on,” you giggled in between whimpers.

In truth, you didn’t notice the way you were moving yourself upwards to meet his thrusts. It made Steve bite his lip to stop himself from cumming inside of you prematurely. “Dove, you're taking me so well — fuck — better than I’ve ever imagined,” he moaned.

“What have you imagined? What were we doing?” you asked it so innocently, stroking his chest as he continued to thrust into you.

Where did you learn how to do that? — was what he really wanted to ask. Instead, his mind started to blurt out his fantasies.

“Sometimes I’d have you like this: fucked out and cock drunk in the middle of the night. Other times it would be me bending you over while you’re studying. Always wearing those tiny skirts with the slit.”

“For you, I wear it for you. I know the yellow skirt is your favourite, isn’t it?” You teased him now.

You always noticed the way he would ask you pick things up from the floor, mention that your shoes were untied while he was standing behind you, or the way he would always take off a piece of lint from the back of your skirt — even if you had just used a lint roller on it a few moments before. He loved the way the fabric would sway, and you loved the way he looked at you. It made you feel so warm even on the windiest and coldest of days.

One thing was for certain, it definitely felt like such a tease in comparison to how your heart and body felt right now.

“You little minx,” Steve moaned as he thrusted into you faster.

“Do you think I don’t imagine you ripping my skirt into a million pieces every time you stare at me?” the words fell from your lips breathily while Steve’s pace increased more and more. “You’re not so good at recognizing mirrors in front of you when you’re staring at the back of my tiny skirt, huh?”

“God, you like it when I’m being your perv, naughty girl,” Steve stated.

“Makes me feel nice. Just like this.”

Just then, Steve made sure that his thrusts and massages on your clit were working in tandem with the way your pussy was throbbing on his cock. He could tell with the way you were arching your back more and closing your eyes, that you were bound to orgasm soon. “You’re so beautiful, dove. So beautiful and taking me so well.”

“Oh my—” your voice sounded so sweet as you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes.

“That’s it, let it happen,” Steve grunted, making sure to stop himself from cumming so that he could time it with yours.

“Faster, please,” you nearly screamed now as everything was hitting you in all the perfect spots.

Steve took that as his sign to move faster: from his hands to his hips. He loved to see the way you were reaching your climax on his cock — an image he would never get out of his mind for the rest of his life. You were squeezing his hardness tighter and tighter, with your moans getting louder in tandem. And so, Steve angled his cock upwards to try and hit your sweetest spot inside of you.

And he did.

Good god, he did.

“That’s it, that’s my dove.” He chanted over and over as you were shaking beneath him, orgasming harder than you did previously.

“S-Steve, fuck.” You rarely swear, but to know that he was the one to cause this little word to fall from lips with such grace — it was the final straw for Steve.

He began to cum inside of you, your pussy milking him with each thrust. All of his arousal was filling you up to the point where it started to spill out and glisten all over your thighs. “So tight,” he whimpered above you.

For a few moments, you both came down from your highs. With a few thrusts and kisses, you allowed your bodies and heart rates to calm down as one. It was beautiful and so bewitching to experience it all. You weren’t so sure what it would be like now. Being friends for so long meant that you both knew so much about each other. However, now, you two seemed to see a lot of each other too. There was no turning back to what it was before. Not after everything felt so good in this way.

You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing sweetly, enveloping each other in one last kiss before breaking apart under the morning sun’s rays.

“You are so beautiful,” Steve whispered as he moved to lay next to you.

“So are you,” you smiled while cuddling close to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead in the process.

“Yeah, I guess I feel a little sore,” you giggled as you moved your head upwards to feel your lips on his again.

Steve gasped into the kiss, breaking it apart to get some tissues from his nightstand. “Do you need a bath, some water, or food?” He asked whilst wiping the remnants of his climax away on your thighs.

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” You smiled as he looked at you with the biggest hazel gaze.

Truthfully, you looked like a goddess glowing next to him with the dawn reflecting on your skin. He wasn’t sure if there were enough words in any dictionary to describe your beauty. Maybe not even from the book you were reading before bed. “How about you sleep for a bit and then when you wake up, I’ll have all your favourite breakfast foods on the kitchen table?” The offer was so tempting coming from Steve’s lips.

“Hmm, what if I want to help you?” You giggled. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be separate from him for too long. The place in between your thighs was begging for his touch again. “There is a scene in that book where the prince and the lady were eating breakfast and then—”

You stopped speaking when you saw Steve reach behind him to find the novel on his nightstand, before flipping pages in the book to see what you were talking about. “Maybe you should read this story to me another day and I can help you every time you get really excited during a scene,” he winked.

“Another day?”

“Yes, for now, we could get started on writing the beginning of our newest story, dove. If you would like to, of course.” Steve whispered the words as he hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with each breath that tickled your skin.

“I’d really, really love that,” you smiled up at him, bringing your arms around his neck in the process.

If one thing was for certain after tonight: both of you found comfort and love in each other’s arms — and later on in a few different sections of the book store too.

-:-:-:-:-

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absurdthirst · 1 month

Text

Online Love {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.3k

Warnings: Online dating, feelings of inadequacy, anger, upset, mentions of past bullying, Javi having restraint, oral sex (male and female receiving), tiny bit of body worship, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Comments: Coming home after Cali, Javi finds that his dad has moved into modern times. There's a computer in the house. Unsatisfied with his reputation proceeding him, he decides to go online to find out if he can be the man he wants to be. Except the one he connects with, you, has a very complicated past together.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The last thing that Javi expected to find at the Peña ranch upon his return, was a computer. He wasn’t even sure that his father had known what one was, let alone how to turn one on. But there it was. A great hulking machine that is set up in the dining room, taking up half the damn table. He had frowned at his pop, hands on his hips as he asked him what the hell he did with the damn thing. “Talk to people.” Chucho laughs at his son’s confused ire and slaps him on the back. “I got that dial up package added to the phone line. Even my accountant told me I needed one.”

Javier avoids the computer for weeks, eying it like it's going to turn on and take over the world. At least, that's what every Sci-Fi movie is about lately. He watches his pa try to cook scrambled eggs and snorts at the curses coming from his father's mouth while he flips through the paper. ‘Free Online Dating Membership. Join Match.com today!’ The ad in the corner catches his eye and he snorts again, wondering who the hell goes on the internet to find a date. He can go to any bar and pick up a woman. Well, he can get a one night stand. Every woman within fifty miles knows about the infamous Javier Peña and his reputation precedes him. The doorbell rings and Javier huffs, folding the paper to get the door. "I got it, pa." He tells his father who is still cursing the now burnt scrambled eggs.

"Oh, uh, hi. Javier." You clear your throat and Javier's eyes widen. He says your name and you are surprised he remembers you. "I have papers for Chucho." You hold up the folder and Javier steps aside. You walk into the kitchen to find Chucho rinsing out a frying pan, the smell of burnt eggs in the air, and you smile at the older Peña. "Just dropping off the quarterly report." You set the folder down.

“You’re his accountant?” Javi asks, following you into the kitchen and he can’t help that his eyes have fallen down to your ass as you walk in front of him. It is a habit when he is around a beautiful woman and you have become that. No longer the awkward and gangly girl he had remembered before he had left for Columbia, you have matured into a graceful woman. It isn’t quite fair because you weren’t too much younger than him.

“Yes.” You turn and give him a confused smile and tilt your head in curiosity at what he was meaning. You had always been good at math, enjoying numbers more than socializing.

“So that-” he points to the computer in the dining room, “is your fault?”

You chuckle a little, "don't you want to join us in the 20th century, Javier? It's nearly the 21st. A computer is the future." You take a step closer to Javier, lowering your voice, "besides, your dad can join forums. Speak to other ranchers. Other widows. There's a whole world out there and that computer brings it to him." You had noticed how lonely Chucho was and he is far too proud to say anything so you suggested the computer.

“What’s wrong with the annual rancher’s association meetings?” Javi snorts, rolling his eyes at the idea of his father courting widows through a computer. His mother was the love of his life, and he had honestly never even suggested moving on. He was still wearing his wedding ring that his mother placed on his finger nearly fifty years ago. “Going to town to the tack and feed store? Meeting people in person?”

You shake your head, "your dad is a proud man. He's loyal to your mother, even after all these years. You can't be honest about how you feel with people you've known for years. On the computer, you can be anonymous, you can tell someone how you truly feel without seeing the judgment on their face. You can be who you really are when you're behind a screen." You confess, knowing you have your own experience with that anonymity. "You wouldn't understand it. You've never had a problem with saying what you think."

That’s not true, and Javi opens his mouth to tell you that, but he stops. You said that one could be the person they wanted to be. Who they really are. Javi glances back at the computer again, contemplating that in a different light. Everyone knew Javier Peña, by his reputation, by the stories that had been written while he was in Colombia. They judged him, or treated him how they expected him to act. Every woman he had met recently just wanted to ‘see if the rumors were true’. He hadn’t taken many of them home. Looking back at you, he shrugs slightly, as if it’s not anything to him. “They are a pain in the ass when they act up.” He grunts.

You chuckle, pointing to the big book on the dining room table next to the computer. "Good thing you have the instruction manual." You quip and walk back over to Chucho who thanks you for bringing the report. "We need to work on the W2's next month." You tell Chucho who nods, "thanks, chiquita." He winks at you and grabs the egg carton. "Any chance you can cook scrambled eggs?" He asks and you giggle, "I would show you but I have to go meet Maria to explain why her new RV is not a tax write off." You chuckle and Chucho winks at you, "luego." You turn to look at Javier, "see you around, Peña." You show yourself out, exhaling deeply as you recognize that you couldn't avoid Javier forever.

Over the next few days, Javi eyes the computer. Debating with himself as he smokes out on the front porch. His dad still won’t allow smoking in the house even though his mother’s oxygen tanks were long gone. Looking at the outline of the large monitor through the screen door and contemplating your comment. He could be someone other than Javier Peña, manwhore or DEA disgrace. He wouldn’t be grumpy or sarcastic, not unless he wanted to appear that way. The person he could be online wouldn’t be burdened with the sorrows and mistakes that seemingly weigh him down. He blows out a breath and crushes out the butt before he yanks the door open and steps back into the house. His father is out for a few hours and he can at least turn it on to see what all the fuss is about.

You bite your lip as you log onto the website. You never imagined you'd join an online dating website. You had seen the video tapes from dating agencies and you never allowed yourself to get so lonely that you resorted to that but the internet brought a new option. You like that there's no photos. Only an initial and a location. It's anonymous and you chat, then decide if you like each other. Sure, you've had some bad matches in person. Some not at all like they described themselves, some total assholes. You keep trying though. You want to find your person.

“Goddamnit.” Javi scowls at the computer and bangs the enter button several times. “Why won’t you do it?” He hisses, seeing the little arrow over the area he wants to go, but it’s not doing anything. “Fuck.” He rolls his eyes at himself and grabs the stupid thing called a mouse. Why it was a mouse, he will never know, but he clicks buttons until the page starts to load, leaning back with an annoyed sigh while he waits.

You have a sip of wine as you wait for the website to load. You sigh, watching the screen flicker as the website is displayed pixel by pixel. When it's loaded, you type in your email address and password. Grabbing the mouse, you click the 'log in' button and lean back, waiting again for the website to load.

It’s been nothing but a pain in the ass to set up this page. Debating on what to put, he had gotten annoyed at himself several times and almost walked away. Now he’s ready to browse available women, but knowing his luck, there won’t be anyone for hundreds of miles.

You set your wine glass down, surprised to see there's a new person online. "J" is the name and his tagline says "here to be myself." That intrigues you. You bite your lip, contemplating clicking on the profile until you select it and wait for it to load. "Name is J. Looking to be myself, find someone to talk to who wants to get to know who I truly am. Texas born and raised. Work in law enforcement so not a creep." You chuckle at the bio and decide to click on the 'chat now' button. You take another gulp of wine and select his profile, typing out a simple "hi".

A box pops up with a loud ding, making Javi sit up. Someone is messaging him already. He tries to suppress the surge of pleasure in his stomach as he remembers to click the line so he can peck at the keyboard. “Hi.” He hits enter and then frowns slightly because it seems so impersonal. “How are you?” He notices the initial and adds that before sending the next message. Frowning as he waits for a response.

You are surprised he responded so fast and your stomach clenches with nerves as you type out “I’m good. Just having a glass of wine. How are you?” You type, glad for those hours you spent on typewriters back when you were a teenager trying to write a novel. It sucked but your typing skills are excellent.

“Well shit.” Javier huffs, slightly amazed at the speed of the reply. He’s used a computer, he had to in those final years with the DEA. Hated it, preferred the typewriter, but he had never really talked to someone online like this before. “What do I say now?” He asks himself, wishing he could light up a cigarette. Hunching over the keyboard, he begins a two finger pecked response. “Wine sounds good right about now, although a glass of whiskey and a cigarette is more my speed.”

You have another sip of wine, waiting for his response. It takes a while and you wonder if he’s walked away from the computer but it soon pings through the speakers and you read his reply. A chuckle escapes your lips, “typical man.” You snort to yourself and reply quickly, hitting enter to send the message. “I don’t smoke. Never have. I don’t care if someone does smoke. So what brings you to this website?” You chew on the skin of your thumb as you wait for his response. It’s nice to talk to someone different. Someone you haven’t known your whole life growing up in Laredo.

Javi feels slightly guilty about smoking as he reads your reply. He will have to air the house out before his pa gets home. Wondering why he’s actually here. “Want someone to get to know me and not what they think they know about me.” Javi types out slowly. “Like I’m trying to quit smoking again, and everyone tells me that I shouldn’t try.”

Your heart clenches at his honest reply. You glance over at the photo of you and your parents when you were younger, remembering how you’d get made fun of for being too geeky. For liking numbers instead of boys. “If you want to quit smoking, you should try. Do it for you. Not anyone else.” You hit send, and then type out “everyone tells me I need to get laid but I don’t want meaningless sex. I want a real relationship. Someone I can talk to and be real myself with.” You hit send before you can think too hard about your reply.

Javi snorts to himself. “Meaningless sex doesn’t help.” He types out. “Not in the long run. I know. Sometimes it just makes you feel worse.” He’s had plenty of time for self reflection and regret. “So who is the real you?”

You sigh and type out “I guess that’s what I’m wanting to figure out. I have been so sensible my entire life. I want to let loose a little. Enjoy life. I struggle to trust anyone and it’s led to me to isolating. Hence why I’m on here.” You hit send and take another gulp of wine, feeling vulnerable.

Javi understands that. “People always call me an asshole, not understanding that I’ve seen shit that would make grown men cry. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I’ve cried.” He tells you and continues the message. “Letting loose sounds like something I need to do too.”

“Were you in the armed forces?” You type out and he replies, “something like that.” You hum, typing again, “well at least you know yourself. You should be able to cry. Doesn’t make you any less of a man because you cry. As for letting loose, maybe we could help each other out with that.” You hit send and take another sip of wine, glancing over at the clock. It’s getting late.

“We could do that.” Javi hums to himself as he starts to type out his response. “What’s your idea of fun?” He asks. “Or the theory of fun.” His idea of fun is so far removed he doesn’t remember anymore. “I like watching movies.”

“Watching movies is good. I love bowling. I haven’t been since I was a kid.” You confess when you type, “or just a day out in the sun. I work so much. It’s hard to relax. I want to succeed. Stand on my own two feet.” You hit send and exhale, realizing how long you’ve been holding this inside of you.

“Do you like the beach?” Javi asks in return, smirking to himself about going to the bowling alley a few towns over. “Or more of a swimming pool kind of girl? You are a girl, right?”

You giggle, imagining J furrowing his brow. “I’m a girl. It says so in the bio.” You hit enter and continue typing, “you’re a boy?” You ask him to confirm and he responds, “yes.” It said so in his bio but you can’t trust anything on the internet. “I love the beach. And the swimming pool. Pool is better for sex. The beach…sand gets in places you don’t want to imagine.” You shudder, remembering when you went to the beach with your first boyfriend and got sand in too many crevices.

Javi’s brows shoot up when you admit that. He chuckles to himself and decides to be completely honest. “Never had sex in a pool or at the beach.” He types. “Fucked in a swimming hole, does that count?” He asks, remembering the time him and Lorraine went down to the local swimming hangout.

You giggle, typing back, “it kinda does. So, what is the true J? A man of mystery. Perhaps you’re a spy and that’s why you haven’t let anyone close to you.” You smirk as you hit send.

Javi chuckles as he reads that and shakes his head like he is in the room with the other person. “Hardly. No one could ever accuse me of being Bond. I don’t have the patience for it.” He pauses, considering your question. “I’m secretly a romantic. Wishing that I had someone to share a future with. I want to love someone, have them love me. I want laughter and fun, quiet nights reading books, early morning cups of coffee with someone.”

You smile softly at the way he says he wants romance. You want the same thing. You want someone to be happy with, to make happy. You quickly type back “that’s exactly what I want. A partner. I want someone to laugh with, to share my day with.” You hit send before you can think too hard about it.

Smiling as he reads the message, he feels like someone is listening to him for the first time. Really listening to him. He licks his lips and feels like he’s crazy for feeling connected through a computer screen. “Until you find that partner, maybe we can share our days?” He offers, biting his lip and wishing he could unsend it just as soon as it’s posted.

“Absolutely.” You type back and hit send before you think twice. You have a good feel for J and you want to get to know him more, be that person he can talk to. It’s nice to have someone want to talk to you that doesn’t even know what you look like. You yawn, the wine and the long day getting to you, and you type out “I’m exhausted. Long day today. Chat tomorrow?”

Javi looks at the clock and is surprised by how long he’s spent online. Soon, his father will be back. “Sounds good. Sweet dreams.” He types out, sending it and wondering if whoever the other person is will sleep soundly or toss and turn like he normally does. He hopes that it’s the former.

You log off, getting ready for bed and you fall asleep to dreams of a partner who loves you and makes you happy and you make them happy.

****

The entire day you spend thinking about logging back onto the website. You try to concentrate on the numbers in front of you but it’s almost impossible to calculate when you think about what J might look like. His bio said brown eyes and brown hair. You wonder if he’s tall or short. You don’t care, you like talking to him. When you arrive home, you eat dinner and disconnect your phone so you can connect to the internet. The shrill tone of the dial up is a familiar sound to you but still makes you wince until you can log back on the website, tapping your fingers as you wait for any sign that J is online.

“Pa! Don’t pick up the phone, I’m going to be online!” Javi calls out from the dining room to the living room where his dad is laid back in the recliner in front of a soccer game. “I thought it was stupid?” The rough laugh of the older man feels like teasing but Javi rolls his eyes and huffs slightly. His reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he had a headache from staring at the screen last night. “Just don’t pick up the phone!” He demands again and starts to connect the computer so he can see how his online friend is doing this evening.

You smile when the speakers chirp with a new message alert. “Hi. How was your day?” He asks and you type out a quick response. “Long. Boring. But it’s looking up right now. How was your day?” You respond, wondering if he had a good day or if he found it as laborious as you did.

Javi has been looking forward to this all day, if he’s honest with himself. It was what had gotten him through another day of repairing fences and trying to fix everything on the ranch that his pop hadn’t been able to get to. “Seemed like it would never end.” He grins to himself when he thinks that you might have been looking forward to talking to him. “But I’m settled down with a beer, how about you? Got a glass of wine?”

You smile at his response, quickly typing “of course. Cheers, J.” You hit send and type another message. “I was thinking about you today. Wondered what kind of movies you like. What kind of music you like.” You know these questions are juvenile but you like chatting to him and getting to know him without any pressure.

Javi hums to himself. Intrigued that his mystery friend was thinking of him. He taps his chin, wishing for a cigarette, but he had put on a patch this morning, and starts to list them out. “Grew up watching westerns, but I think I like dramas.” He types out. “Action is alright, but they always depict shit wrong. Shooing a car’s gas tanks isn’t going to make it blow up.” He goes on. “Music, I’m still an easy listening, 70’s kind of guy. What about you? What’s your taste in movies and music?”

You snort at his answer about action not being accurate. You type back, “I love dramas. And romance. Westerns…my dad used to watch them so I’ve seen almost every western out there. John Wayne was a big hit in my house growing up. As for music, 70s, 80s. I’m not sure about the 90s. Music is changing. I miss the ballads and classic rock.” You hit send and take a sip of wine, the dial up crackling in the background.

Javi snorts and shrugs slightly, like he’s talking to someone in person. “80s music is a little too peppy for me.” He admits with a grin as he types it out. “Power ballads are amazing.”

You nod as if he’s in the damn room with you and you fluster as you catch yourself. “I can’t imagine you as a Huey Lewis listener.” You type out and he types back, “how do you imagine me?” You bite your lip, “well, your bio says you have brown eyes and brown hair. So I’m guessing your eyes are a little jaded from shit you’ve gone through but also soulful, like the key to your emotions is in your eyes. Most men are guarded but their eyes tell their story.” You hit send, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve overstepped.

Suddenly, he feels like this person is in the room with him and has stripped him naked. Not of his clothes, but of his armor. “I rarely look in the mirror. Except when I’m shaving.” He admits. “But my momma used to say she could tell everything I was feeling through my eyes.”

Your heart aches for the man, clearly he’s been beaten up by life and you want to hold him, tell him it’s all okay. You type back, “wise woman your momma. I understand how you feel. I’m not haunted by demons but I was bullied as a kid until I left school. Too nerdy, not pretty enough. Not thin enough. It still affects me to this day.” You hit send and take a large gulp of wine.

Javi frowns when he sees your words and hates how that could be possible when you are a sweet person. “Size doesn’t matter. Every body type is beautiful in some way.” He types out. “I love women of all shapes and sizes. Pretty only lasts as long as age. It’s the soul that makes a person beautiful.”

His words melt your heart, a man who doesn't just want the pretty Playboy bunny girl to fuck. He seems genuine, unlike most men you meet. "Exactly. That's how I feel. You are attracted to their aura, their personality...looks are a bonus." You hit send and smile into your wine glass, wondering if you should suggest meeting up. His bio shows that he is within 20 miles of you.

“Exactly.” Javi types back immediately. “I want someone who will build a future with me, but also be willing to jump into the truck with a cooler of sodas, a full tank of gas, a map and no destination in mind.” He had imagined taking a road trip once, with Lorraine and she had immediately vetoed it. It might be one of the things that caused him to start rethinking their upcoming marriage so many years ago.

Your stomach twists at how perfect he seems, how he seems to completely understand you. "Well, if you ever need a road trip buddy. I'm your gal.” You type back, a grin on your face and you know you look ridiculous. His chat goes offline after that and you frown, confused and wondering if you did something to upset him.

"Pa! Get off the phone!" Javi yells at his father who picked up the landline, forgetting that Javi is online. "Sorry mijo. I forgot." He admits, slamming the phone down.

“Damnit.” Javi hisses, hoping that you weren’t insulted by his internet dropping out. He listens to the modem dialing and it seems like it’s taking forever. “Hurry up, hurry up!” He growls, his stomach flipping unpleasantly at the idea of you thinking that he’s just done with the conversation. It takes forever in his mind, even if it’s just a few minutes and he’s relieved when the chat reconnects. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My dad picked up the phone.” He types out quickly.

You’re surprised that he lives with his dad but you can’t judge, you lived with your parents until you finished university. His bio says he’s over 40. “It’s fine! Shit happens.” You hit send and giggle slightly, wondering if he was frustrated that the connection dropped. “Thought you didn’t want a road trip buddy.” You tease, watching the message go through for a few seconds until it says delivered.

“Get me out of here!” Javi types back quickly, chuckling to himself. “I never thought living with my dad again would be so frustrating.” He admits. “I moved back to help him and it doesn’t make sense to live somewhere else. He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to admit he’s getting older.”

You like that he is living with his dad to help him. You like that he seems to be a family man. “One day you’ll miss him when he’s gone.” You type, hitting send. “Do you want kids? Marriage?” You ask, curious if he’s interested in that.

Javi frowns as he contemplates that question. It had been one that Lorraine had sort of asked him, in a way, when she asked him if he had imagined their life together. He had. He would have never had kids while he was DEA, but he’s done with that part of his life now. He could have that if he wanted, so does he? He flexes his fingers and starts to type. “Never really thought it was going to happen for me.” He replies. “But I could see it. Now. Had a dangerous job for a long time and I wouldn’t have ever thought about it then. But yeah, I would want that. You?”

You ponder his answer, appreciating his honesty and you aren’t rushing him down the aisle but you like to know if you’re on the same page because you like him. You type back “I want kids someday. If it happens. I’m a big believer that things that are meant to be, happen.”

Javi leans back, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about that. There’s been plenty of times he probably should have become a father, by accident, but it had never happened. He had made sure not to leave any kids behind for the mothers to take care of while he had moved on. He notices that your profile says you are in your 30s. So there’s still time. “One? Two?” He types out. “Boy? Girl? Both?”

You are surprised he’s not running a mile at this conversation. Most men would. “Two. One of each ideally but I’d take healthy babies any day.” You hover to hit send before you add, “what about you? Any ideas on kids?” You hit send and rub your cheek, hating how much you like this guy. Someone whose name you don’t even know. You have no photo, no additional information.

Javi never really thought about it before, not sure if it would matter. He shrugs slightly. “Happy, healthy, safe.” He replies. “Not sure if you really have any options. You’re gonna get what you get. Least that’s how I look at it.”

You chuckle, replying back, “very true. Healthy. Happy. Safe. That’s what everyone wants.” You like that he didn’t say “boy” like every other man would. You chat for another hour, turning the conversation to the best movies of all time until you look at the clock. “I could spend all night talking but I have to get up earlier to get to work. Goodnight J.” You hit send, deciding to wait for his response before you log off.

****

Javi is happy that he installed a second line to the house for the internet. Now he doesn’t have to worry about his pa picking up the phone and kicking him offline. He’s been talking to the woman online for weeks, deciding to call her ‘sweetheart’ instead of just by her initial. It’s funny, because he’s received messages from other women, but he isn’t even interested in responding. Despite his playboy ways before, he had no desire in getting to know anyone else. Grinning as your chat pops up, his typing improves, he quickly greets you. “Hey sweetheart, how was your day? That client’s son still being an asshole?”

You scoff to yourself as you type, “hey handsome. Yeah, he is. God, he thinks he knows better and he’s always been that way. He was best friends with my brother when we were growing up and he was a dick back then.” You hit send, glad you can vent about Javier Peña. He questioned the amount of write offs his dad was submitting with his quarterly filing.

“Just ignore him, he’s probably unhappy.” Lord knows he’s fully aware some people are just unhappy with being questioned. He had tangled with his dad’s accountant again today, frustrated because he knew that the assholes he used to work with wouldn’t stoop to hit his dad to get back at him. Of course, Miss Priss had looked like she was sucking a lemon talking to him about everything. Like he was just trying to make her job harder. He didn’t want his dad to get audited. “Wine or something stronger tonight?” He asks.

“Stronger. Whiskey.” You confess, “he really annoyed me. He thinks he knows best and I wish you could go head to head with him. I think you’d come out on top.” You hit send and take a sip of whiskey. You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you look down at your nails, you really need to get a manicure soon.

Javi chuckles to himself, grinning at the screen and feeling oddly proud to have the confidence of his sweetheart. “I’ll talk to him, see if I can’t get him to back off.” He volunteers. “Can’t let someone upset my sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at the way he calls you his sweetheart. You have talked every night for weeks. You know that he struggles with the things he’s seen. “You’re too sweet, handsome. He wouldn’t know how to handle you.” You giggle as you hit send and take another sip of whiskey, feeling brave. “I know we have been talking for a few weeks. Would you like to meet up?” You hit the backspace, changing your wording, “would you like to meet me sometime?” You hit send and exhale shakily, nervous of his response.

Swallowing harshly, Javi’s eyes must run over your worse half a dozen times before he can grasp that you want to meet him. He types “Yes” before he thinks about it and changes it to “Yes, absolutely.” He doesn’t know when you want to meet but as soon as he sends it, he’s immediately typing again. “You said you haven’t been bowling in forever. Why don’t we do that?”

You are shocked that he remembered what you said from one of your first conversations together online. You immediately type back, “yes, absolutely! I would love that. Are you free on Friday? 7 pm?” You hit send before you think twice about it and you feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting the mystery man you’ve been talking to for weeks on the computer. Hope that you can meet his expectations of you and that he is some kind of creep. Normally you would never meet someone off of the Internet without knowing their full name but you do like the aspect of mystery of him and also you trust him. As insane as that sounds, you trust your mystery man.

Javi hasn’t grinned so widely since he was a teenager, feeling his stomach flutter and twist in pleasure. He types out the name of the bowling alley that is in the next town over, he’s heard that one is better. “Is that one close enough for you? I’ve heard there aren’t as many bowling leagues there, taking up all the lanes. We can bowl and have a few drinks, nothing too fancy.” He sends that and then chuckles. “I’ll even get some nachos and hamburgers.”

Your face hurts from grinning and you type back, “you are spoiling me, handsome. That works for me. I’ll see you there on Friday at 7pm. I’ll wear red lipstick so you know it’s me.” You hit send, reaching up to touch your lips. J had said he loves when a woman wears red lipstick.

Javi can’t even stop nodding at the computer screen. It’s a dumb habit, but he always feels like he is talking to his sweetheart face to face instead of through a screen. “I’ll get there early to make sure we’ve got a lane.” He promises. “I’ll be in a red shirt to match your lips.”

****

Friday comes around and you are nervous all day. Exhaling shakily, you check your red lipstick in the mirror of your car before you lock it up and head into the bowling alley. You’re here to meet J and you are nervous as shit. What if he doesn’t like how you look? What if you don’t live up to expectations? You enter the bowling alley and glance around, not seeing a red shirt so you make your way over to the front desk, hovering as you wait for your mystery man.

He’s got the lane and for some damn reason, Javi had decided to have too much coffee. Now paying for it with having to piss right as he sat down to wait. Trying to hurry as he washes his hands and rushes out of the bathroom. Scanning the people eagerly for the sight of red lips. His sweetheart will be early, he can tell from getting to know her over the past few weeks.

You glance around and see the one and only Javier Peña come out of the bathroom. You huff, "fancy seeing you here, Peña. Did not take you as the type for bowling." Your eyes drift down to his red shirt and your eyes widen, "J?" You choke, realizing he's the only person wearing a red shirt. This has to be a joke. Surely your online companion isn't here yet.

Javi’s eyes widen and he glances down at your lips. “Sweetheart?” He frowns slightly and wonders if this is some kind of sick joke. You hate him, think that you’re better than him because you deal with numbers all day. He could tell you things about numbers that would have your stomach churning. “What are you-“ he can’t even finish the question.

Your eyes widen at the nickname until you shake your head and let out a sarcastic laugh, "is this some kind of joke? Someone hiding with a camera? Did you - did you set up an account to mess with me? Manwhore Peña making out like he wanted something real? Please, you gotta be dreaming. I - oh God. You did this to mess with me. Well, fuck you handsome." You spit the nickname that once held affection for you and you spin on your heel, making your way out of the bowling alley, cheeks burning with mortification and tears stinging in your eyes.

Embarrassed at the people who are staring, Javi rushes out of the bowling alley, abandoning the lane he had already paid for. Spotting you as you hurry to your car, he admires the dress you are wearing even as he calls your name, breaking out into a jog to catch you. “Will you stop, goddamnit?”

You spin as you fumble to unlock your car. Your hands shake as you try to get the key in the lock. "What?" You hiss, knowing that you'll be a funny story he tells his friends tomorrow. The way it's always been. Javier used to make fun of you when you were in high school, your brother his best friend. Hell, your brother was supposed to be his best man until the wedding never happened.

He’s breathing harder as he comes to a stop in front of you, not panting but almost there. “Don’t- don’t leave.” He tells you, not reaching out but the anger on your face cuts deep. You loathe him, but there had to have been something you liked when you were talking to him online. “Look, if you’re - you go in and bowl.” He offers, holding out the slip to claim the shoes from the counter. “I paid for two games, there’s a pitcher of beer and nachos that should already be waiting.” He explains. “I’ll leave, okay?” His eyes slide away from yours, unable to continue staring at you when you despise him so much.

You shake your head, your heart clenching. You really thought you had something special with J. You don’t take the slip from his hand, your eyes stinging with unused tears. “I’ll go. You go bowl, enjoy the beer.” You spit and growl as you try to open your door, managing to yank it open after a while. “I don’t want to be the butt of your jokes ever again.” You hiss as you get into your car and slam the door, turning on the engine.

Javi frowns as you throw your car into gear and pull out of the parking spot, swallowing harshly. His jokes? Yeah, he teased you when you were both younger, but you still take that to heart? He steps back and shoves the claim ticket into his pocket, turning to walk to his truck. The date is ruined and he feels like shit even though he doesn’t know why.

You make it home and when you enter your apartment, you start to sob. Embarrassed that your entire online relationship has been a big joke. You know Javier is probably laughing about leading you on. You collapse on the sofa, burying your face in your hands, and you spend the first night in a long time not on the computer.

Javi comes into a dark house, his pop already in bed and he sits down in front of the computer. Staring at the dark screen and wishing he had never agreed to meet. Now that he knows that it’s you, he doesn’t regret that he created the profile, but he hates the image of your distraught face. Sighing, he turns the computer on, deciding to send you one last message.

You sniff as you log onto your computer after dialing up, wanting to send an email to your mom to vent about what happened when your email pops up with “message from ‘J’ waiting.” You huff and log into the website. You open the message and rub your cheek, hating that the mascara you so excitedly put on is now smudged all over your face.

“Sweetheart….I want to apologize for ruining your night, and your life it seems. I’m sorry that the night was ruined and I wasn’t the man you had been looking for. Your dress was very pretty. I want you to know that I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the past few weeks and you are wonderful. I hope that you don’t give up looking for that special person that you can explore and share with. Javier.” The message is simple and straightforward, but Javi worries that he might have overstepped by contacting you again at all.

You read his message a few times. Your heart pounding in your chest and you bite your lip as you ponder what to say to him. You thought about what happened during your drive home. You try to reconcile the Javier you know in the daylight to the man you’ve been speaking to for weeks. You clear your throat and type your response, “Javier. I didn’t know it was you when I was messaging you. I guess I was shocked because you used to make fun of me when we were teenagers. You joining my brother to make fun of his geeky sister. I thought you weren’t interested in anything but sex - I heard the rumors about you in Colombia. I can’t figure out how the man who fucked his way through Texas is the same man who told me he wanted romance. All I can think is that this is a big joke at my expense.” You sniff, hating that your eyes sting again. “I really like J and if you are that man, not the man who rolls his eyes when I point out some issues with his dad’s receipts, then I would like to try again. Talk in person.” You hit send before you can regret it.

Javi reads your message and it hurts. The magic of talking to you is now gone and he feels a heavy weight of guilt settling back down on his shoulders and he wishes he had a fucking cigarette. He sighs and starts to type. “Yeah, I made fun of you with your brother when we were teenagers. I was an asshole and it was wrong. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t address the manwhore comments, and decides to address the issue with his father. “I will stay out of your business.” He continues on. “I used to work with men who would dig and have others dig until they had leverage on you. I was just trying to make sure my pop didn’t suffer from me pissing them off.” He sighs and rolls his head around before continuing on. “For what it’s worth, I really was looking forward to that bowling date.”

You read his message, leaning back against your chair, and you swallow down the guilt that swirls in your stomach. Maybe you jumped to judging Javier. He was an asshole, but the guy who has been messaging you for three weeks has made your heart flutter. You bite your lip and type back, “I was really looking forward to it too. I’m sorry I'm defensive. I guess I have a complex from high school. Never being the girl that got asked to the dance and it’s given me some issues. I would never let your dad be dragged into something. I want to make sure he’s protected and doing things above board. Maybe we could try again? I really like J. I’m sure I’d like Javier if I gave him an actual chance.” You hit send and sigh, knowing that you have to accept what he says when he responds.

Javi sighs softly, aware this could be some kind of payback, but he doesn’t think so. “I guess it’s too late tonight.” He would go out, but you might not be able to do it tonight. “How about this? I’m free tomorrow night. If you want to do something, we absolutely can.”

You smile softly, typing out your reply. “Miguel’s? Tomorrow at 8?” You hit send and you know that this could be a massive mistake but you want to try. The man you’ve gotten to know has to be inside of the asshole you grew up with.

The bar in town is much more his speed and Javi quickly types out an agreement. “That sounds good. I’ll see you then.” He bites his lip. “Have a glass of wine and soak in a bath, sweetheart, you deserve it.”

You reread his words a few times, loving and hating the smile on your face. You log off the computer and follow his advice, soaking in the bath with a glass of wine.

****

You glance up at the shitty sign that Miguel’s has had since your papa used to come here and drink after work sometimes. You brush down your dress, walking into the bar and classic rock is playing as you look around for Javi. He’s sitting at the bar, glass of whiskey in front of him, and his eyes widen when he sees you. You walk over to him, a little unsure. “Hi. I guess we should reintroduce ourselves after yesterday.” You tell him, wanting him to know that this is you trying again.

Javi smirks slightly and nods, noticing that you are wearing that red lipstick again. “Red lips.” He hums, wanting to reach out and see if they are as soft as they look. “Guess that makes you sweetheart?” He asks, standing up and pulling out the barstool beside him for you to sit down. “Javier.”

You sit down on the stool beside him, “handsome.” You murmur, taking in the sight of him in a red shirt and you like how he’s trimmed his mustache. He offers you a smile and the bartender comes over. You order a glass of wine and you turn your gaze back to Javier. “I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. I was - it was a shock to see you standing there.” You confess, thanking the bartender when he sets your drink down.

“I could tell.” He doesn’t smile or make light of it, nodding to the bartender himself. “I was surprised that it was you standing there.” Javier admits as well. “Although I guess I should have recognized the asshole son you had to deal with.” He snorts, having gone back through the archived conversations now that he knows it’s you and it’s almost silly that he didn’t figure it out before.

You fluster slightly, knowing you said some mean things about him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was venting. It’s not easy dealing with numbers all day and then you come along and argue it all.” You raise your eyebrows, “I understand that you’re trying to protect your dad but you really are a pain in my ass.” You nudge him and he chuckles, shrugging a shoulder, “I won’t apologize for being protective.” You nod and pick up your drink to have a sip. “Cheers, J.” You reach out to clink your glass against his.

He chuckles again, nodding at sentiment and taking a sip as you do. “We could have used you in Colombia.” Javi compliments you. “Being so good with numbers, you could have spotted things that took us months to figure out with Escobar.” He snorts. “When he was in “jail”-“ Javi uses air quotes. “That asshole would truck in live lobsters. I would have paid money to see you go through his money trail.”

You set your drink down, “I highly doubt that his accountant was tracking his hard earned cash.” You snort and shake your head, “the things you’ve seen down there…I couldn’t even imagine it.” You confess, knowing that he went through a lot during his time in Colombia. “Thank you for the compliment though.” You offer him a smile, “could’ve used your interrogation skills when old man Garcia refused to pay for his filing.”

Javi snorts, imagining putting the screws to that old coot. “That’s when you threaten to tell Mrs. Garcia about his drinking.” He tells you with a wink. Old man Garcia’s wife is heavily religious and has a strict no alcohol rule in her house. You laugh and he taps the bar self consciously. “I wasn’t lying. Online.” He adds. “You know what people think of me. Hell, what you think of me.” He looks at you softly. “Our conversations have been the best parts of my day.”

You soften at the sincerity in his eyes, “me too. I loved talking to you.” You sigh and shake your head, “I think I have misjudged you. I just remembered you when we were younger and then the rumors I heard about Colombia. And leaving Lorraine at the altar. Didn’t exactly paint a pretty picture but I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I think J is the real you, right? If it is, then I want to start again because I like you, Javier. I liked J a lot so if you are the same man, I want to see where this goes.”

Javi smirks at you slightly and leans in. “I thought this was starting again, sweetheart?” He teases playfully. “I don’t mind you misjudging me.” Not exactly the truth, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Not as long as you give me a fair chance now.” He leans back. “Are you hungry? You always complain about waiting too long to eat. I don’t want you to do that tonight.”

You soften even more at the way he remembers how bad you are at eating and you nod a little too fast. “I’m starving.” You admit, “are you hungry? I wouldn’t mind getting some food after this drink.” You gesture to the bar top and you let your eyes take him in now that you aren’t fighting. His eyes are crinkled when he smiles and his dark hair has grays scattered throughout but he’s as gorgeous as ever. No wonder he fucked around so much. He could have any woman he wants.

“That sounds good.” He admits. “If you don’t want bar food, we could go somewhere else?” He knows you prefer casual over formal, which he really appreciates, but sometimes bar food isn’t what someone wants.

You shake your head, “I like the food here. They have amazing burgers.” You say and he nods, “the fucking best.” You relax a little more, taking another sip of your drink, and you let your eyes wander a little more, taking in the golden skin beneath his shirt, peeking through from the buttons he’s left undone. He notices your appraising eyes and smirks. You fluster and set your glass down, “you know how women see you.” You scoff softly, trying to cover your embarrassment at being caught.

Javi chuckles softly. “Like a notch in their bedpost.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “Last woman that hit on me told me she wanted to see if the rumors were true.” It’s not been a bad thing, but it’s not what he wants now.

His words make you frown and you feel a little guilty for eying him. "For the record, I don't think you could fuck all night long. At least that's what I heard in the grocery store a few weeks ago." You nudge him to show you're joking, "you are more than that. More than what people see." You add with a murmur, recalling the things he said to you. "You're handsome but you're smart, loyal, and funny." You say about the man you know online.

He’s grateful you don’t buy into the rumors and you are willing to judge him on what you’ve talked about. “I’m not eighteen anymore.” He huffs. “Three good rounds is about all I’ve got in me these days.” He admits, smirking slightly. “Four if you’re counting the next morning.”

Your throat goes a little dry and you pick up your wine to take a gulp. “Three is…more than I’ve had.” You confess, “one…sometimes half.” You snort and Javier chuckles, “one and a half.” You shake your head, “no. Half. He came before I did and he didn’t -” You sigh and chuckle softly.

Javi grimaces and shakes his head. “Fuck.” He snorts. “Every man has had a time where he’s too excited or worked up. But you have to make sure your girl squeals in pleasure.” He sends you a small sigh. “Sounds like you slept with some real assholes.”

You snort and nod, “absolutely. Some real assholes.” You echo his words and sigh, “I just want someone who wants me and I want them. To make them happy.” You echo your typed words, knowing he feels the same way.

Javi nods, listening rather than jumping in and offering to make you feel good. He wants to take this slow and show you - and himself - that things can be different. The bartender comes over and he asks for two menus before giving you his attention again. “When was your last relationship?” He asks. “I find it hard to believe that it’s been long. You’re too pretty to be single.”

You thought that Javier would have offered to take you to bed but the fact that he didn’t is refreshing. “Uh, you remember Frankie from the auto shop? I went out with him about two years ago. I’ve been trying to build my business and I haven’t really had time to date. I’m not a one night stand kind of girl.”

He cannot say the same, but he nods, understanding what you mean. “You have to have an emotional connect, right?” He asks, wanting to know more about you. He's still reconciling the woman online with his ex-best friend’s little sister.

You glance down at the menu, his dark eyes burning into you, but you love how his attention is solely on you. “Emotional and primal. I think that the chemistry has to be there from the beginning otherwise you’re possibly waiting for something that could never happen. I thought you were a dick for so many years but I’ve always been attracted to you. Our chemistry was bickering but it was still there from the beginning.”

Javi smirks proudly, his eyes heating up at your confession and he lifts a brow. “I won’t lie and say I’ve always wanted you.” He tells you honestly. “There was a time when you were too young for me. But now…..” he winks. “I can tell you that it’s not just innocent thoughts.”

You bite your lip at his own confession and you lean a little closer to him, “glad we are on the same page now.” You reach out to touch his hand just as the bartender comes over to ask you what you want to order. You lean back from Javier as he gestures for you to go first and you order the burger and fries. Javier orders the same and you hand the menus over. “Best fucking burgers.” He says when he takes a bite into the burger after it arrives. “Damn right.” You groan in agreement after you swallow your bite.

“So.” Javi wipes his mustache with a bar napkin and looks over at you. “If there’s one thing that you’ve never done but always wanted to, what would it be?” He asks, grinning when you lift your brows in surprise at his question.

You hum, tapping your chin after you push your empty plate away. “I want to ride a mechanical bull.” You admit, giggling at the way his brows immediately shoot up. “Seriously?” He asks and you nod, a smirk on your face. “I’ve never had the guts to get up and do it. Always figured I’d look like an idiot and fall within seconds.”

“Everyone looks like an idiot and falls within seconds.” Javi snorts. “You’ll look like everyone else.” You huff and pout slightly, making him tap his chin. “There’s a bull a town over. Hole in the wall place. We could drive over and give it a whirl.”

You grin, “let’s go, Peña.” You reach for your purse and he tuts, “my momma would whoop me for letting a lady pay. It’s our first date.” He reminds you and pulls out his wallet, throwing enough cash down to cover the bill. You thank him, unused to such gentlemanly behavior from him and his gender. You take the hand he extends you and he guides you out of the bar to his truck. “You wanna follow me or I can bring you back here?” He asks and you are hyper focused on the feel of his calloused hand in yours. “Let’s ride together.” You decide and he nods, escorting you around the truck to open the passenger door for you, helping you up.

Javi rounds the front of the truck and climbs in beside you. “It’s only about a twenty minute drive.” He promises as he turns the engine over. “We have another drink, check something off that bucket list of yours and maybe even dance a time or two.”

His truck rumbles as he pulls out of the parking lot and the radio plays a country song. You admire the way his arms flex as he navigates the road, knowing that he realizes he’s attractive but maybe not aware of how much.

“Did you always want to be an accountant?” Javi asks, glancing over at you before looking back at the road. You’re so damn pretty sitting in his passenger seat and he wonders if you will bristle at the question. “I know you’re a math whiz, but was it a goal? Or something you fell into?”

“Kinda?” You answer, “went to college for math and I wanted to work for NASA. Then - then my mom got sick after I graduated and I couldn’t go to Houston. I had an internship there and I turned it down to stay at home. Became an accountant to stay local. She’s better now, thank God, but I always wonder what could’ve been.”

“Holy shit.” He’s impressed. NASA would have been an incredible career and he wonders what kind of life you would have had if you had been able to go for that. “I understand.” He nods, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Mom having cancer while I was in college really changed things for me. Honestly? I don’t know if I would have joined the DEA or not married Lorraine if she hadn’t passed.” He still misses her everyday, not regretting taking care of her one bit, but he had wondered what would have happened if she had lived. Or even lived longer than she did.

You were there the day he left Lorraine at the altar. The whole town was there. “I’m sorry. I remember your mom. She always made me feel so warm. She was kind and always made the best empanadas. I know you were a sheriff. What made you want to join the DEA?” You ask, curious what made him sign up, “was it to get away from Lorraine? From town?”

“Partly.” Javi snorts, remembering how the family he had once been almost welcomed into, had smeared his name through the streets. “She - or her family - told everyone I was fucking her best friend. Never even looked twice at her. But there were a lot of drugs running through town when I was a sheriff's deputy. Wanted to cut it off before it got here.”

You remember the rumor and you weren’t sure if you believed it. Javier was not a womanizer when he was with Lorraine. He seemed to only have eyes for her. “Yeah. It’s still bad. Those assholes will always win. You get rid of Escobar, someone else will take his place.” You sigh, “Lorraine did railroad you down the aisle.”

Javi shrugs slightly. "I loved her, but not enough." He admits. "I had some growing up to do and I don't regret it. Not really. She wouldn't have been happy in Colombia, and I wouldn't have let her stay."

You nod in understanding, “then she dated my brother. He was her rebound and I guess he didn’t really care about his best friend being her ex.” You scoff, remembering how your brother moved in on Lorraine as soon as Javier left town. “I’m sorry he was such an asshole and didn’t respect you.”

He huffs slightly and glances back over at you with an amused look before turning his attention back to the road. "Not a great look." He tells you. "Always wondered if they were fucking around before I left." He admits, revealing something that had been rolling around in his mind for a long time, but never voiced. "Doesn't matter anymore, though. We are all different people than we were back then."

“My brother is an asshole. He lives in Dallas now with his pretty wife and two kids. I haven’t seen him for a while. When Mom was sick, he stayed away. Didn’t even come to see her.” You shake your head and lean back in your seat, “he’s always been an asshole. Used to say I was a nerd who would never have a boyfriend.” You chuckle, “guess he was kind of right.” You look up as Javier pulls into the parking lot of the bar.

“I was an asshole too.” At the time, Javi had thought it was pretty funny. He took part in the teasing thinking that it was all in good sibling fun between you and his best friend. He had been an only child and had been too immature at the time to realize the hurt that it caused you. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs as he shifts the truck into Park and looks over at you. “For everything I did back then. For the hurt I caused. I’m sorry I didn’t stop him.”

You appreciate his apology and you know it’s ridiculous to be hung up on the teasing you got as a teenager but words hurt and they have always stuck with you. You reach out to squeeze his hand, “I appreciate you saying that, Javi. Now…let’s go ride a mechanical bull.” You grin, letting go of his hand so you can unbuckle your seatbelt.

He chuckles as he follows your lead. Sensing that you want to move past that, he climbs out of the truck and comes to your door to help you out. His perusal in your outfit is both to admire you and make sure you will be safe on the bull. “Good thing you wore jeans instead of a dress this time.” He hums.

You snort, “yeah. Don’t want to be flashing my ass to everyone in the bar.” You chuckle and Javier takes your hand to escort you inside the bar after locking his truck. The bar is busy but not slammed and you walk up to the bar to take a seat. Javier gestures for you to say what you want when the bartender comes over and you order a glass of wine while he orders a whiskey. “Liquid courage.” He declares and you giggle, “maybe wine isn’t strong enough.” You hum but don’t change your order.

He smirks slightly and turns to watch the bull in the corner of the room. The floor is covered in mats around it and he leans in, his elbows braced back on the bar. “There she is.” He talks into your ear since it’s loud with conversation and music. “You nervous?”

You shiver at the way his breath fans over you and you turn your head, bringing your face closer to his, “I’m ready. Nervous, but ready.” You promise, knowing that you could look like a fool but you desperately want to try this. It has always looked fun.

“Squeeze your knees tight.” He advises you, his voice dropping slightly on instinct. “Move your hips like you’re riding a man. You’ll do just fine, sweetheart.” The bartender brings your drinks over and he leans back to grab your wine and hand it to you before he takes his whiskey.

You take a gulp of wine, stomach twisting at the way he advises you, his voice lowering. You set your glass down, “you ready Peña?” You ask and he nods, calling the bartender over to say you want to ride the bull. “Sure man. We can get it revved up.” The bartender nods, calling his coworker over to get the bull up and running.

“Now, when you fall, just tuck your body into a ball.” Javi tells you. “People hurt themselves when they try to catch themselves.”

You nod, walking over to the bull. You’re nervous and a little scared but you are excited to try this. You eye the bull, taking Javier’s hand as he helps you up onto the bull. You grip the handles, preparing yourself and you squeeze your thighs like Javier suggested. The machine whirls to life and you squeal, eyes widening as it starts to move.

The bull starts slowly, turning as the front of the machine dips down before it bucks up. Javi watches as your hand flies up, like you’ve seen Bull riders do. Your thighs clench tight around it and you make the first full turn on it. You are damn good, his brow shoots up and his cock twitches in his pants. Making him wonder if you would ride his cock like you are riding the bull, your hips swerving and rolling with the movement of the ride.

You grin, giggling as you ride the bull. It flings around but you remain on top, you rock with the motion, squealing when it swings you around again, and you rock back, feeling invincible as you conquer something on your bucket list.

The speed of the bull increases and Javi can tell you are starting to lose your seat. Knowing you are about to lose your grip on the bull’s sides, he’s still impressed. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistles proudly.

Loving his enthusiasm, you try to hold on for as long as you can but eventually, you fall off. You curl in on yourself like Javier recommended and you hit the mat and the bull stops. “Shit.” You hiss, stumbling a little as you stand up.

“Holy shit.” Javi rushes over and takes hold of your waist, grinning proudly. “That was great!” He tells you. “You’re lying. You have to have ridden a bull before.” He doesn’t think you actually lied, but he loves the breathless exhilaration on your face.

You shake your head, letting him guide you out of the ring. “Never. I - holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.” You grin and your heart pounds in your chest as you lean against him. “I just did that.” You exhale breathlessly and he nods, a grin on his face. You can’t help it, you cup his cheeks and surge forward to press your lips to his.

Javi is shocked you are kissing him, but he doesn’t push you away. Letting you wrap your arm around him while your tongue slides into his mouth boldly. Groaning, he squeezes your waist and reminds himself that it’s just the adrenaline. Enjoying the fact that you are pressed up against him before you break away.

You pull back and grin at him, still riding your high, and you grab his hand, “let’s go get our drinks. I’m thirsty after that.” You guide him over to the bar again and pick up your glass of wine to have a sip. “You gonna have a ride?” You ask him, wondering if he will attempt to ride the bull.

Javi chuckles as he takes a drink of his whiskey. “Why the hell not?” He asks, pushing the empty glass towards the bartender. “It’s only been at least ten years since I’ve been on a mechanical bull.” He shrugs. “Like riding a bike, right?”

He strides over to the bull and your mouth goes dry as he swings his leg over it to straddle it. You bite your lip as you watch him adjust himself and the bull starts to move.

Javi grew up on the back of a horse and when he was younger, him and his cousins all rodeoed a little. Plus the hell raising younger years where he would come here simply to see how long he could hang on. He's older and isn’t used to it anymore, but he still hangs on and throws you a wink while the bull twists him around for the first rotation.

Your stomach twists with arousal as you watch him swivel his hips and stay on the bull. You lean against the soft barrier and take in the sight of Javier Peña riding the bull. He is sexy and you can feel yourself getting wet from the display he’s putting on.

The operator turns up the speed faster than he did with you and soon enough, Javi is flying off the bull and tucking his body like he had advised you to do. Grunting as he climbs to his feet, he smirks when you rush up to him again. “You lasted longer.” He teases. “Just like a woman.”

You snort, reaching up to brush his hair back that had fallen into his face. “You were amazing. Very sexy to watch.” You confess and he smirks, “yeah?” You nod, “amazing.” You haven’t felt this good in so long, carefree and happy.

“Do you want to try it again later on?” Javi asks, watching you grin at him. “You were really sexy riding it too.” He had a semi from watching you, even though he had no intentions of taking you to bed tonight. This was going to be different.

You love that he thought you looked sexy and you nod, “yes. I’d love that. For now, another drink?” You suggest and he smiles, taking your hand to guide you over to the bar again. You enjoy your drinks, squeal over another round on the bull, and now, your arms are wrapped around his neck as you dance to the music playing. “I really didn’t expect you’d be a dancer.” You confess, enjoying the way his fingers grip your waist.

“Too much of an asshole?” He grins at you, making fun of the unrealistic views you each had of each other. “I like dancing. It’s a good way to be close without being naked.” He hums playfully. “There were a lot of times that it was a good cover for watching sicarios. I would get a trusted asset to come with me. It wouldn’t be fair to make her sit there and just look pretty all night.”

You hum, rocking to the beat. You know about Javier's adventures in Colombia but you know he did that to find Escobar. You dance for a while longer until last orders are called. "One more or shall we head out?" He asks and you are reluctant to go home but you can't have another drink. "Let's go. I need to run errands tomorrow and I don't want to sleep in too late." He nods and pays the bill before escorting you to his truck once again. "I had a really good time tonight." You confess when he is driving back to where your car is parked.

“I did too.” Javi admits easily, probably the most relaxed he has been in a long time. You are easy to talk to now that you aren’t butting heads and Javi doesn’t just look at you like his old friend’s little sister. “Maybe we can do it again soon?” He doesn’t want to assume, you said you were extremely busy with your business at times.

“Absolutely. I’d love to do this again. I’m free on Tuesday if you want to do something?” You ask, knowing it’s crazy to like him this much already but you’ve been getting to know him online for weeks.

“I think I can make that work.” He thinks about the work he has scheduled with his dad and nods. “I’m sure we’ll talk online?” He asks. “If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan, Peña.” You hum, looking out of the window at the passing streetlights until you turn your head to look at him, admiring his profile highlighted by the dashboard and the dim light outside. When you arrive back at your car, he opens the door for you and you reach into your purse for your keys, unlocking your door and before you can open it, Javier cups your cheek, bringing your face to his. His kiss is sweet, tilting your head so he can deepen it a little and you moan softly into his mouth. He’s a good kisser. He pulls back before he goes further and you smile, “goodnight Javier. See you soon.” You slide into the car and buckle your seatbelt then turn the engine, offering him a wave before you put your car in drive and make your way home. Javier stands there for a few moments, watching your car disappear in the distance and he sighs, “holy shit.” He shakes his head and gets into his truck, heading home to his bed. Alone.

****

“You missed!” Javi pumps his fist as he crows playfully, watching you spin around and stick your tongue out at him. He wants to show you what you can do with that tongue, but he just smirks as he gets to his feet after marking out your last set. It’s the third game you’ve played tonight and both of you are almost equally bad at bowling. Making it fun as you joke and play around on the lane. “Watch a professional.” He jokes, blowing on his fingers before he picks up the red and blue swirled ball he had picked out.

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, babe.” You watch him as he makes a show of positioning his feet, rolling his shoulders, before he throws the ball down the lane. It rolls into the gutter and you smother your giggle with your hand until you mark the sheet. “Professional, huh?” You tease, walking over to grab your ball. “How about a bet?” You suggest and he nods, “sure. What’s the bet?” You smirk, “first person to get a strike…gets a kiss.” You proposition and Javier smirks, “you’re on.”

You make a show of positioning yourself to throw the ball, concentrating on the middle line, and you bowl it, holding your breath as you watch it go straight down the middle, all the pins flying as you get a strike. “Hey, that’s cheating!” Javier accuses halfheartedly and you grin, dusting off your hands as you walk over to him. “Now…my prize, Peña?”

Javi leans back in the hard plastic chairs and reaches for your waist, dragging you down into his lap. It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s felt this lighthearted and it’s all because of you. You giggle and throw your arm around his neck as he pulls you closer. “Your prize,” he teases, brushing his nose against yours. “You cheater.” Before you can protest, he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours.

You melt into the kiss, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. His tongue slides against your lower lip and you allow him access, moaning softly into the kiss. His hands slide along your back and you feel giddy, heart pounding as he kisses you. You pull back after several moments, pecking his lips. “What a prize.” You murmur, your lips burning from his kiss. “And for the record, I didn’t cheat. It was luck.”

He chuckles, knowing you haven’t pretended to suck at bowling for three games to suddenly become good. “I know.” He pecks your lips again and pats your hip. “Lucky ass strike. I’m not complaining at all. I reaped the benefits of it too.”

****

You watch Javier shove a handful of popcorn into his mouth and giggle, “slow down. We can get a refill, baby.” You nudge him then take a sip of the large soda. “I heard this is a good movie. I always liked Russell Crowe.” You say as the trailers start.

“It’s Gladiators, hermosa. It’s gonna be epic.” Javier says, channeling the teenage boy who would’ve loved this movie. He used to watch Westerns and Sci-Fi with his dad. They had to go to the movies to watch Star Wars at the midnight showing when it came out. You settle in beside him, leaning closer as the movie starts.

Javi throws his arm around your shoulders and watches you while he watches the movie. Wanting to make sure that you aren’t bored with the movie, but it’s soon apparent that you are just as thrilled with the action as he is. “They used to sleep together.” Javi predicts, talking about the Emperor’s sister.

Javier rubs your arm when you shiver but it’s not from the AC, it’s from him being so close. “I feel like he’s going to die.” You whisper, having a feeling that Maximus isn’t going to make it. You lean over to grab the soda, having a sip, and Javier leans in so you tilt the straw towards him so he can take a sip.

He feels like you are right, sucking down some of the soda and looking over at you and his eyes slide down to your lips. He leans in hums, "I think so too." He admits and leans back, reaching over and taking your hand when you put the soda down.

You feel like a teenager when he squeezes your hand and you watch the rest of the movie. When it’s over, Javier drives you home. His hand in yours as the radio plays and the wind is in your hair from the open windows. When he pulls up outside of your place, he cuts the engine and walks around the truck to open your door. He takes your hand and escorts you to your door. When you get there, you smile at him, “next time, I pick the movie.” You tease and he chuckles, reaching for your waist to pull you closer.

“Rom com.” Javier guesses and you chuckle, reaching up to grip his shirt, dragging him closer.

“You love them really.” You joke and he presses his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours and he backs you up against the door. You whimper into his mouth and he kisses you thoroughly. He pulls back and your lips tingle when you say “do you want to come in?” You ask and he sighs, “not tonight. I gotta get up early to help Pa with the cows.”

You nod, stomach twisting as you wonder why he hasn’t wanted to sleep with you. “Sure. I’ll see you soon.” You offer him a smile even though it’s a little tight. “Bye, cariño.” He murmurs and you turn to open your door. He stands there until you close it, waving at him until the door is shut. You sigh when you drop your purse down, confused as to why Javier hasn’t slept with you yet. You’ve been dating for 2 months, talking for 3 and you don’t understand why he hasn’t touched you when his reputation displays his willingness to fall into bed. You ponder it all night long until you come up with a plan. You’re going to invite Javier over for dinner and seduce him.

****

Another cold shower. Javi hisses as he shivers under the icy spray of water, closing his eyes and willing his erection to go down. Every day he is hard, especially when he is around you. He’s tried very hard to make sure he doesn’t rush this, he doesn’t rush you into bed. Wanting there to be a solid foundation of trust and respect between you both. He just has to wait until the time is right to move things forward. “Fuck.” He twitches despite the cold temperature and reaches down to wrap his hand around his cock. You are so fucking sexy and he is more attracted to you as the days pass. He’ll have to jerk off, he closes his eyes and thinks about you, reaching out with his other hand to turn the hot water on.

****

You check the chicken is cooked and cover it with foil just as the doorbell rings and you walk over to the door to open it after adjusting your dress. It’s tight and black and you hope he likes it. “Hey baby.” You greet him with a smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Hey." His eyes widen slightly and he wonders if he had misread the situation and undressed. He's glad he stopped to get flowers and a bottle of that wine you like. "You look nice. Very nice."

“Thanks, baby.” You wink and take the flowers from his hand. “These are gorgeous. Thank you.” You carry them into the kitchen and grab a vase to put them in. “Would you mind opening the wine? Dinner is nearly ready.” You tell him and fill the vase to put the flowers in.

“Sure.” You’ve got the wine glasses out as well as a bottle opener, so Javi brings the bottle over to the table to pour out some drinks. “It smells great!” He calls out to the kitchen, listening to you hustle around. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. We could have gone out to dinner.”

You look at him over your shoulder after you put the vase down on the side. You smile at him, “I wanted to treat you. I know you and your Pa don’t cook a lot so I figured you’d enjoy a homemade meal. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus and red wine jus.” You tell him about tonight’s menu as he pours the wine out.

His brows lift in surprise at how elaborate the dinner is and he is impressed. “Are we celebrating something that I wasn’t aware of?” He asks with a slight smile, watching as you give him another one in return. It makes his heart flutter and he can’t help but think how beautiful you are. “Just a nice night together.” Your answer makes Javi hums in approval.

You work fast to put dinner together, setting it down in front of him, and you sit down in the seat beside him at your small kitchen table. “Enjoy.” You tell him and you pick up your knife and fork so you can dig in.

“It looks delicious.” Javi compliments as he looks down at the meal you’ve put in front of him. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You smile at him and again that fluttering in his heart makes him feel young and he wonders if this is that complete love his pa would always claim would one day find him and knock him on his ass.

You talk about your days while you eat. You still message online on nights you can’t see each other, complemented by phone calls, and after you finish eating, you clear the plates and grab the dessert you bought. “Still like pie?” You ask, placing a piece of apple pie and ice cream in front of him.

“You’re spoiling me.” Javi groans, watching the steam from the still hot pie rise and the ice cream start to melt over it. “I will have to plan something special for our next date.” He picks up his spoon and cuts into the pie for a large bite.

You like that he likes the dinner, making you feel special that you can look after him like this. You sit down and watch him devour the dessert. You eat your own plate and after the plates are cleared away, you find yourself on the sofa with your glasses of wine. Your radio plays in the background and you sit beside Javier, your legs tucked beneath you. “You’re so damn handsome.” You reach up to caress his cheek, “and smart. And funny. And I am so happy that we met online.”

“And you are blind.” He chuckles, leaning into your touch. “You are the one who is beautiful, kind and hilarious, you should be running from the disaster that I am. But for some reason you like spending time with me and I’m happy you do.”

“Me too. You’re not a disaster. You’re incredible.” You murmur, leaning in to press your lips to his. He tilts his head and you deepen the kiss, tangling your tongue with his. You kiss for a few moments until you break the kiss, kissing along his neck, and you shift to straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs.

Javi groans, his hands sliding up and down your thighs and he wonders what you are doing. He’s been good at not letting things go too far. “Sweetheart….” He pants, closing his eyes as he can’t believe he’s about to push you away. “Sweetheart, stop.” He murmurs.

You lean back and frown at him, “what’s wrong?” You ask, confused about why he’s pushing you away. “I don’t - not tonight.” He says and you shift off of him, “I don’t know - I’m confused. Am I - are you not attracted to me?” You question him, confused and hurt at him pushing you away.

“What?” He frowns at the question, looking at you like you are crazy. “No- no of course not. I am attracted to you.” He promises, but you shake your head, not believing him. “I am, sweetheart, I just- I’m trying to behave.” He tells you, shoving his hand through his hair and wishing you don’t look like he’s just broken up with you.

You shift to stand up, your stomach twisting, and you stare at him, “you’re trying to behave? I don’t want you to behave.” You look down at him, “I want you to fuck me. It’s been 2 months of dating. I never imagined you would go bowling, go to the movies like a teenager. I love that, don’t get me wrong, I loved all of our dates but God, Peña, I just want you to fuck me.” You exclaim, chest heaving.

Javi swallows harshly, watching you stand in front of him, practically begging him to fuck you. His mouth is dry and he rubs his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “Show me your bedroom, hermosa.” He demands. “You want me to fuck you, that’s where I’ll do it.”

His dark eyes are almost black and you see something in them that makes your stomach twist with arousal. “Baby, I want you.” You take his hand and guide him towards your bedroom, opening the door and you are nervous. Javier has had a lot of lovers. What if you don’t match up?

He’s groaning when he sees your bed and imagines spreading you out on it. You’ll look so pretty thoroughly fucked and exhausted. “I had a physical when I got back home.” Javi murmurs quietly. “And I haven’t slept with anyone, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control and I haven’t slept with anyone for a while.” You tell him and you reach for the tie of your wrap dress. You slowly untie it and let your dress fall open to expose the lingerie you picked out in hopes that Javier would touch you tonight.

“Fuck.” He exhales roughly, cock twitching in his pants as he takes in your curves, showcased in lace. “So fucking sexy.” He starts to unbutton his shirt as he strides closer, feeling cocky and yet also nervous because you are so important to him. “What were you thinking about when you got dressed? Me fucking you? I think about that a lot.”

“I was thinking about you. Fucking me. Touching me. I think about that a lot too.” You tell him and reach out to run your hands down his chest. “You’re so gorgeous, Javi.” You murmur, caressing his skin and you slide your hands up to push the shirt from his shoulders.

Javi hums, not used to really accepting compliments. Women would flatter him, in Colombia to earn a bit more, or to get him to fuck them. You, you have nothing but honesty and desire in your eyes and it’s thrilling. “Thought about it a lot too.” He admits with a smirk. “Too many cold showers lately.”

You giggle, “no more cold showers.” You promise and slide your hands lower to unbuckle his belt. You pull it from the loops and let it drop to the floor. You unbutton his jeans, reaching in to squeeze his hard cock and you are shocked to find he doesn’t wear underwear. “Oh God.” You gasp at the girth of him and you pull him out of his underwear.

Javi groans as your fingers wrap around him, twitching in your palm and glancing down at your hand engulfing him. “Fuck.” He hisses, eyes closing when you give him an experimental pump. “You seem surprised, hermosa.” He pants. “Rarely wear underwear. Too hot.”

“I didn’t know.” You admit, “God, didn’t know you had such a gorgeous cock. No wonder every woman from Texas to Colombia wanted you.” You pump him again, shifting down into your knees as you admire his girth and you lean in to wrap your lips around him.

“Shiiiiit.” He hisses, jaw clenching as he looks down at you on your knees in front of him. He’s imagined it, but this looks ever sexier than what he had thought. “Fuck baby, you thought about sucking my cock?” He asks, cupping your cheek. “You like doing it? I want to tongue fuck you. See how you like being licked.”

You moan around his cock at his filthy words, loving the way he talks dirty and it has you soaking your panties. You take him deeper, keeping your eyes on his, and you wrap your fingers around the back of his cock, starting to pump him.

“You’re good at this. Tell me you don’t love sucking cock, you could be a pro.” He grunts, caressing the hinge of your jaw and pushing slightly deeper. “Gonna be thinking about this when I’m working. My cock down your throat while you bat your eyes at me.”

You relax your jaw, letting him push deeper, and his words have you moaning around his cock. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous standing above you. His stomach is slightly soft but you love that. You are proud that he’s enjoying this when he’s had so much experience. You choke around him as you try to take him deeper. You exhale through your nose and try again, taking him deeper into your throat.

“Fuck, don’t hurt yourself, hermosa.” Javi groans, pulling you off of him slightly as he pulls his hips back. “Are you wet? Dripping from having my cock in your mouth? Why don’t you sit on my face while you do it? Let me eat your cunt.”

You nod, dripping wet from him and the idea of him eating you out while you suck him off. Pushing his jeans down, he kicks them off and is bare before you. You stand up on shaky legs and he steadies you. You lean in to kiss him, your tongue tangling with his and he pushes your dress from your shoulders.

He has a lot of experience with undressing a woman. His hands are skilled in stripping someone down and he does it with an eagerness that is more than just hungry for sex. He wants a connection, a bond that cannot be broken even when he pulls away.

You let him reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging the straps down your arms until it drops to the floor and your tits are exposed to his hungry gaze. "Javi!" You gasp when he grabs your back, pulling you close so he can duck down and take your nipple into his mouth.

He’s always been a greedy man. Sex is addictive. It's honestly just as addictive as the cocaine he had chased down and tried to prevent people from snorting up their noses. The feeling of losing himself, pleasure both given and received lets him forget about the problems or guilt that weighed him down. Now he gets to just feel you, learn what makes you cry in pleasure.

You moan as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass while he bites and sucks on your nipple until he switches to the other. His fingers hook into your panties and he pushes them down as he kisses along the swell of your breast. “Fuck, need more.” You whine, lightly pushing him away so you can kick your panties aside, patting the bed. “Lay down, baby.”

He chuckles at how eager you are. Following your orders and laying down, giving himself plenty of room away from the headboard. Watching as you peruse his body, your own eyes just as hungry as he knows his are.

You shift to kneel on the bed, shuffling up the bed until you face away from him and straddle his chest. His hands immediately go to your hips to drag you backwards to hover over his face and you bend down to take his cock into your hand.

Javi groans as he takes in the sight of your soaked folds. They are perfect and puffy, soaking wet because of your want of him. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you back more so he can flatten his tongue against your folds.

You cry out when he slides his tongue through your folds, making you grind back onto him. “Fuck baby. That’s good.” You whimper and lean down so you can take his cock into your mouth with a moan, wanting him to feel just as good.

Javi groans happily, enjoying the tang of your juices on his tongue. Licking into your cunt eagerly and making it messy. Groaning again when your mouth wraps around his cock again.

You love how he moans into your flesh and you grip his cock, sloppily sucking his cock as you want him to enjoy this as much as you are. You love how enthusiastic he is, sucking your clit into his mouth and you moan around his cock again.

He continues to lick into you, rocking your hips back and burying his tongue deep inside your soaked walls. Twitching in your mouth and groaning when a dribble of precum is spurted into your mouth as you suck.

You moan, hollowing your cheeks around his cock as you take him deeper, rocking back on his face as he sucks on your clit a little harder. It’s so good. You moan and pull off of his cock, continuing to pump him in your hand.

Javi moans into your folds, pulling back slightly. “I don’t want to cum yet.” He grunts before he is diving back in to make you cum.

You huff but loosen your grip on his cock, not taking him back into your mouth but he ducks harder on your clit. You rest your cheek on his thigh as he slides his tongue inside of you. You pant, “God baby. You’re gonna make me cum.” You moan, so close to your orgasm as he pushes his tongue deeper.

That’s the point. He doesn’t stop, speeding up his tongue as it flicks through your walls and pulls you back more firmly on his face. Willing you to cum for him, wanting to hear you and taste you.

You rock back onto his face, unashamed of your need and lust for him, and you moan his name when you fall over the edge. Your thighs gripping his face as he works you through it. “Javi. Oh shit. Baby, I - oh God.” You ramble against his thigh.

Javi loves it. The slick of your release covering his mouth and jaw as he works you through it. Keeping ahold of your hips and your cunt firm to his mouth until you are whimpering his name as a little protest.

He pushes you over the edge and keeps pushing, making you hiss as you get overstimulated. "Javi." You whine his name again, needing him to pull back and he relents, leaning away from your cunt with a groan. You sigh, closing your eyes, "God, so good." You murmur, taking a moment to ride your high.

Javi pants, licking his lips as he strokes your ass. He knows that feeling, riding the wave. He would need a cigarette if he hadn’t been using the patches and he still hasn’t even cum. Shoving his arm under his head, he watches you shift off of him a few minutes later. His cock is throbbing but he doesn’t mind.

You shift to lay beside him, leaning in to kiss him, and he turns his head so you can slide your tongue against his. You moan into the kiss, uncaring about your tangy cum on his lips, and you slide your hand down to grip his cock, squeezing him before you pump him slowly. "You're too good, Javi. How do you want me?" You ask, wanting him to enjoy this in case you don't cum again. You've already gotten more than you would have from other lovers.

Javi groans into your mouth. “I like to kiss and be close.” He admits. “But sometimes I change positions.” He rolls onto you and slides his hand down to bring your thigh up to his hip. “Start this way and end up however we do?”

You nod, sliding your hands along his back, loving the way his muscles flex under your touch. "Sounds perfect." You murmur and he reaches between you to position his cock at your entrance. You close your eyes as he pushes inside of you, your head tilting back while you silently moan at the stretch.

He watches you closely, loving how expressive you are. How you don’t care about how you look. You care about how you feel, how he is making you feel. It looks like you are feeling good and he wants to make you always feel this way. “So pretty.” He moans quietly. “So goddamn pretty and all mine. My pretty girl.”

You slide your hands up into his hair, "yours. All yours." You promise, lifting your legs so you can wrap them around his hips. He sinks deeper inside of you and you whimper, "God, you feel so good inside of me. Move, please." You beg, "don't care if you cum too fast. You already made me cum."

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He grunts, pulling his hips back to surge forward again. “Not going to do that to you.” He hisses out, eyes rolling back when you clench down around him. His lips find your skin and he starts to kiss, everywhere he can reach as he starts to move.

His lips on your skin have you on fire, rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts, and you caress his back, loving the way he feels covering your body. You tilt your head back so he can kiss down your neck until you grab his cheeks, bringing his mouth back to yours and you moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his as he rocks into you.

Every thrust of his hip makes both of you pant in pleasure, breath exchanged and mingled together as the two of you move. Javi slides his arms around your body and pulls you up close, sinking deeper as he pushes into you again and again.

He drops his hips and he grinds against your clit, making you gasp in pleasure, and he smirks, focusing on that spot again. “Good girl.” He murmurs and the praise makes you push your heels into his ass to press him deeper inside of you. “Shit. Feels so good. I - never felt like this before.” You admit breathlessly, getting closer and closer.

“Good.” It’s not good that you’ve never been fucked properly, but he’s glad you are making sure that you get the attention you deserve. “You feel so good. Tight little pussy squeezing my cock.” He praises roughly. “Could spend all night right here.”

His words make you gush around him and he caresses your thigh as he rocks into you, making you moan when he hits something just right. “Yes. Yes. Javier. Fuck, right there. That - oh God!” You squeal as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him, and his name echoes on your bedroom walls as you cum around him for the first time.

“Fuuuuuck.” He growls, slowly thrusting into you as you fall apart on his cock. Loving how tight you get, how wet. Bracing his knees on the bed, he pulls you up until you are in his lap.

You gasp, feeling him sink deeper and press against your cervix in this position. Your hands grip his waist and you scramble to brace your feet on the bed. “God, Javi.” You cry out when he starts to rock his hips again. “Yes. Love - love this.” You choke out, tilting your head back.

He groans as he rolls his hips up, using his thighs as he works in and out of you. “Fuck, you’re-“ he chokes out, gasping your name when you squeeze him inside your walls again. “Fuck, hermosa.” He hisses, lunging forward and biting down on your jaw as the thrusts become sharper, snapping his hips up.

You love the way he bites as he nips and kisses down your neck until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair, tugging on it to bring his mouth back to yours. Your tongues slide against each other while he thrusts into you and you use your feet to grind down onto him. “Shit. You got me worked up. Might cum again.” You pant against his chin.

“Do it.” He huffs, his hands sliding up and down your back, gripping your ass as he grinds into you. “Cum all over me again. Wanna feel it. So good.” He babbles slightly, hoping you are enjoying this as much as you seem to be. It’s been awhile since he’s had sex but he’s holding out. Jerking off before the date had been a good idea.

You pant, rocking down onto him and it doesn’t take long but it does take you by surprise when you cum again, clamping down on his cock and soaking him for the second him. Your chest heaves as you tilt your head back, moaning his name as you experience bliss once more.

Javi takes that opportunity to kiss along your throat, licking and biting your skin as he rocks up into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Starting to move a little faster as he chases his own pleasure, while the grunts and groans get louder.

You try to rock down onto him, wanting him to cum, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his face to yours. "Cum for me, Javi." You plead, leaning in to kiss him while he grunts into your mouth.

It doesn’t take many more thrusts, stiffening and moaning your name into your mouth, his cock pulsing deep inside you. Flooding your cunt with ropes of his sticky seed while he pants in pleasure. “Fuck.”

You smile against his chin as he relaxes beneath you, shifting you to lay you down on your pillows. You feel like you're floating as he leans in to gently nip your chin. "So fucking good." You murmur, "rumors were not wrong."

He chuckles quietly. “Glad I could live up to the hype.” He teases. “Fuck- I wish I had a cigarette.” He groans. “Nothing better than a cigarette after amazing sex.”

You sigh, caressing his cheek, "I don't have any cigarettes, baby." You murmur, "sorry." You lean in to kiss his cheek and he nods, "it's okay. I'm trying to quit." You shift to lay down and he pulls out of you, shuffling off the bed to head into your bathroom for a rag so he can clean you up.

Javi cleans up quickly and brings the rag back, damp and soapy to make sure you are wiped clean before he tosses it back into the sink. Not sure if you want him to lay with you, he stands in the doorway and looks at you laying in your bed like a warm puddle, boneless and content. It makes him smile, watching you almost glow in the aftereffects.

“Come here.” You pat the bed and he nods, slipping back into the bed with you after he pulls the comforter from under you. You curl into his chest, swinging your leg over his hip, “are you going to stay the night? I’ve been told I make great pancakes.”

“If you want me to.” Javi settles back against the pillows and holds you close, his fingers tracing the lines of your back as you cuddle close. The fan spins lazily above you and he feels completely relaxed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” He chuckles. “Had no other plans, except maybe logging online and talking to this girl I’ve been seeing.”

You grin against his peck, “is she nice?” You ask and Javier smirks and shrugs one shoulder, “she’s alright.” You playfully slap his chest but he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. “I want you to stay.” You murmur, turning your head to kiss his chest.

Javi hums happily and agrees. “Then I’ll stay.” He promises. “But your pancakes better be worth it.” He teases, happy that he had found someone that it was so natural to be with, in and out of bed.

You snort, “just you wait, Peña.” You promise and snuggle into his side again, enjoying the closeness between you.

****

Javier groans as he walks into the kitchen, his jeans on and unbuttoned after he cleaned up in the bathroom. He rubs his eyes and you turn around to look at him, dressed in his shirt. “Pancakes are ready.” You declare, setting a plate down on the table for him but you grab the can of whipped cream to squirt a smiley face on the top cake for him.

He huffs in amusement as he looks down at the smiley face on his pancakes. “Did I do that good fucking you last night?” He teases as he reaches around and pats your ass. “I get the special pancakes?” The last time he had seen this was on a kids menu in some pancake diner. It’s cute and he pulls you down for a kiss.

You giggle against his lips, pecking them a few times, "you did real good, baby. Wanted to show you my appreciation. You said you've been hungrier since you quit smoking so I figured you'd want a big breakfast. Bacon and eggs are nearly done."

“I could have helped you.” He had slept longer than he meant to, intending to wake up with you this morning. However, when he opened his eyes, he was all alone in the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this. I could have taken you out.”

You shake your head, “I woke up early and didn’t want to wake you up. You looked peaceful. I know you’ve been up early with your dad so you needed the sleep. I like cooking, I like taking care of you.” You confess, biting your lip as you plate up the eggs and bacon and set the plate on the table.

Javi softens and smiles at you. “I’m not complaining at all, sweetheart.” He promises. “I really appreciate it.” He gets up to grab the two mugs of coffee you have poured. “Let’s eat while your hard work is hot.” He tells you, pulling out your chair for you to sit.

You sit down, picking up your knife and fork to dig in to eat and your eyes meet Javier’s as he groans when he takes a bite of your pancakes. “Good?” You ask and he hums, swallowing his bite. “So fucking good.” You grin, proud that he likes them. You watch him eat, enjoying the product of your labor and you notice him staring at you. “Do I have something on my face?” You ask, reaching for the napkin.

“No.” Javi shakes his head and forks up another bite of eggs. “Just admiring how pretty you are without makeup on.” He admits. “You are pretty with it, but I think you’re even more beautiful without it.”

You fluster, cheeks warming at his compliment. Something soft that you never really expected from Javier Peña, especially the one you knew from childhood. “Thank you. I like the five o clock shadow on you.” You gesture to his unshaved face.

“Yeah.” He rubs his face with his hand, feeling the raspiness of the hair growing in. “Can’t grow a beard for shit though.” He snorts. “Comes in all patchy.”

You lean closer, resting your elbow on the table, “sexy no matter what.” You promise and he offers you a bashful smile, making your heart flutter.

****

You wrap your arms around his neck, swaying to the music. Javier decided to take you to the fair that’s happening a town over and you are currently on the makeshift dance floor, swaying to the music played by the teenage band.

“Are you having a good time?” Javi asks, pulling you a little closer and leaning his cheek against yours as the band plays. Tonight has been wonderful, but he can’t remember a time that he’s not had a good time around you. You’ve played some games and ridden some rides, had plenty of fair food, and now he gets to hold you close.

"Always with you, baby." You promise, breathing him in. He's become your home, your person to vent to, to cry with, to laugh with. You've never experienced anything like this.

He leans back to look at you and you lean forward to nudge your nose against him. "I love you." He blurts out and you pull back in surprise. Neither of you have mentioned your feelings yet but you are shocked that he was the first one to say anything. He looks surprised with himself then he gets nervous and you cup his cheek, "I love you too." You declare, leaning forward to brush your lips with his.

Javi smiles against your lips, his fingers digging into your waist as he deepens the kiss. He is home, in mind, body and spirit. Healing every day while sharing himself with you. Your accounts are both canceled, no need to chat online, now that you have each other.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #javier peña narcos

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thebigbiwolf · 1 year

Text

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary.

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp.

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.”

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass?

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?”

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.”

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent.

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest.

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers.

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion.

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself.

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched.

Hot. Why is everything so hot?

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever?

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off.

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf.

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is.

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared.

“What in the hells…?”

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve.

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain.

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear.

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle.

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat.

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’ You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic.

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before.

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat.

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you.

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.”

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence.

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy.

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again.

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.”

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

#bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #astarion acunin #posting this was like pulling teeth im gonna disappear for a while #my fics #spittle

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milla-frenchy · 2 months

Text

The green flannel shirt

817 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel comes back home from work and finds you asleep wearing his shirt

Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his late 40s), infidelity, twisted relationship, daddy kink, possessiveness, spanking, rough sex, oral (f), rimming, anal play, piv, creampie

a/n: same “couple”: Owned collection. Can be read alone, but I recommend to read the “Owned” ficlet first Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏 Mood board @aurorawritestoescape thank you so much baby it's beautiful ILY 🫶💕 (pic for mood only)

Masterlist | ao3

Your car was parked in the driveway when Joel came back home from work. His son’s car wasn’t.

He quickly entered the house and when he checked his son’s bedroom, his hand on the door, he saw you asleep in clothes that weren't yours.

You weren't wearing one of his son's t-shirts either. You were wearing Joel’s green and red flannel shirt, unbuttoned, and your panties. The roundness of your breasts was slightly visible between the two sides of the garment.

His cock twitched painfully in his pants. He looked at his watch. He had time.

He entered the bedroom, walked over to the bed and took off his t-shirt, letting it drop on the floor. He unzipped his jeans and quickly pulled out his hard cock, and spat in his hand before jerking it firmly two or three times. He just pulled his jeans down under his balls, before lying down between your thighs and spreading them firmly with his knees. He needed to fuck you, to take what was his.

“Daddy?” you said in a sleepy voice, awakened by his heavy body on yours, and his big hands surrounding your face.

“Hey, baby. Missed me?”

“Yes, daddy… I was waiting for you to come back.”

He pushed your panties to the side and breathed down your neck then nestled his cock in your entrance, pushing lightly to let your sleeping walls accept him.

“I love seeing you wearing my shirt. I love when you smell like me. ”

“Mmmm… me too.”

“You’re so tight, Jesus Christ. Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Even more when you’re barely awake, baby.”

He pushed a little more, and your body gave way to his fat cock, like it always did. He groaned as his shaft thrust in and bottomed out.

“Oh, fuck… I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Soon, he was pounding you like you loved it: hard and deep. Filling your pussy like only he knew how. His hand came to squeeze one of your breasts, after roughly pulling aside his shirt. His jeans were rubbing roughly against your skin, adding another touch of desperation to your physical need. He grunted, feeling like he was almost ready to shoot his load between your delicate folds.

But it was too soon, he wanted more. Needed more.

He pulled out abruptly, grabbing your thighs and manhandled you so that you were lying on your stomach.

He spanked you and asked roughly, “Who’s your daddy?”

“You! You are”, you whimpered.

“Damn right”, he growled.

He was becoming more and more possessive of you. He just wanted to fuck you as many times as possible. And until you told him you wanted to stop, he wouldn't.

He quickly slid your panties down to your knees, just enough to be offered to him the way he wanted. Grabbing your hips, he pulled your hips up, diving his tongue in your cunt, then lapping from your folds to your ass. Swirling his tongue over your tight ring. He pressed against it, testing the resistance of your little hole. He wanted to fuck it but he wasn’t sure he had time to get you ready for his cock. Reluctantly, he moved back down slightly, licking your dripping pussy. Your face was buried in the pillow and your clenched fists gripped the sheets.

“Make me cum daddy, please”, you whined.

He smiled, as his nose was pressed against your perfect ass. You were so good for him. Always ready to take his cock. Always ready to be fucking ruined.

His tongue focused on your clit, just like he knew you needed it, and his thumb rubbed your ring. Unable to resist the tightest of your holes. You whined in the pillow and came on his tongue. Your boyfriend’s father tongue.

Quickly, he grabbed your hip with one hand before thrusting his cock deep, making you whimper against the bed. Finally, he was feeling the sensation he had been thinking about all day. All day he thought about you. About your holes.

Your tight pussy. You mouth which sucked his cock perfectly, until he spurted in your throat. Your ass, which he was the only one to fuck.

He wanted you for himself, and at the same time the taboo of your relationship was driving him crazy.

His thoughts became blurred, and now he couldn't think of anything at all. Just feeling your cunt swallowing him, and listening to your sweet “daddy, daddy, daddy.”

He was chasing his orgasm, railing you, his hands buried in the flesh of your hips.

“Daddy”, you whimpered.

“Say it again” he commanded, as he spanked you twice.

“Daddy…Daddy, please, fill me.”

He growled and pushed his thumb into your ring just before his cum filled your pussy. He stayed buried deep in your cunt until you milked his cock.

“The bed smelled like him. Now it's gonna smell like me.”

Same "couple": Owned collection

Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️ Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates Tagging those who commented and rb. Please let me know if you wanna be removed ❤️

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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

Text

Monster (JoFoes x Reader)

Characters: Dio Brando (PB), Kars, DIO (SDC), Yoshikage Kira, Diavolo, Enrico Pucci, and Funny Valentine (sorry I have not finished JJL yet so no [spoiler])

Prompt: "He's a wolf in disguise / But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes."

Summary: Their "love" for you comes in many different, untraditional ways. Some more dangerous than the others.

Rating: Mixture of SFW + NSFW, but please mind the warnings.

Notes: Reader is GN! and no specific body parts are mentioned for them. Spoilers I guess for their plans? Reader is a human in all of them, Reader replaces Shinobu + Hayato's roles, not much NSFW for Pucci's part in all honesty, FV is a widower (no Scarlet involved).

Warnings: Toxic relationships, MAJOR power imbalances for all of them (maybe minus Kira's). Heavy religion mentions for Pucci (although Reader is not specified to be Christian). This isn't soft or lovey-dovey (but I can do one later), so pleaseeeeee do not read if those kinds of topics make you uncomfortable.

Word Count: ~4.5k (kill me I lost my mind writing this)

Read on my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, fill out the form in my pinned): @adeadcreator @bruabbina @gingernut1314 @over--heaven

Dio Brando (Phantom Blood)

He most likely was pursuing you long before the mask ever took hold of him. He didn’t do it out of pure love- more likely it was for entertainment and as a chance to hold another thing over Jonathan.

Dio despises how Jonathan attempts to be friendly with you and often will do what it takes to turn you against the poor guy.

He doesn’t even know why he is so adamant Jonathan stays away from you, even more so than with anyone else. He feels a possessiveness towards you that cannot be contained or described in words.

He masks most of his disturbing thoughts and possessiveness for you underneath a facade of charming elegance. He’ll play the part of a picture perfect boyfriend for as long as he needs to.

But even he has to admit he has trouble holding back all these disgusting feelings for you. You frustrate him in a way few ever have and ever will.

Despite his haughty attitude over Jonathan and his eagerness to get ahead, Dio is actually grossed out by himself tremendously with you. He recognizes after getting wasted once again that he is just like his bastard of a father, Dario, and it settles in a gross pit in the bottom of his stomach.

It’s wretched, honestly. While he continuously acts bigger and better than ever to get you to fall further for him, he refuses intimacy or overtly physical gestures. Sharing Dario’s blood with this body makes him sickened at attempting to do anything like that with you.

Compared to his earlier brazen behavior, when he begins to get possessive and attached to you, he almost retreats and refuses to allow himself the chance at intimacy with you.

However… once he puts on the mask and rejects his humanity, Dio becomes a whole new wicked beast.

While he still has sentimental feelings for you, his aggressiveness grows almost tenfold.

Likes to have you sit on his lap while he strokes your head and monologues about his ideals or shows you horrifying imagery.

Blood. Lots of blood.

You’re the only one he attempts to keep alive and refuses to let the others feed off of. If you are to ever be used as sustenance, it is by him and him alone. He gets actively violent against his subordinates if they even think of touching you.

In this stage, he’s more open to intimacy. A bit more, but not at his full peak (we’ll get to that later).

However, the arousal he has is mostly fueled by his bloodlust and hunger. Feedings of you tend to occur after one of his many minions causes some chaos or he gets word of more destruction and feels a possessive streak.

He is pretty sensual, taking his time to showcase how much stronger he is, how much better he is now that he has become an undead horror of the night. But that sensuality is still layered with a hint of hunger and obsessiveness towards you that he cannot contain.

He’s less controlled about his feelings now towards you. His eccentricities make him more likely to just take you randomly at anytime without a care of what is going on around him. And he will verbally tell you them aloud now, enabled by his own inhumanity.

“I can smell your fear, darling. Your heart is pounding fast… tell me, do you desire something more than this innocent petting, dear?”

Loves to bite you and leave marks on you. He likes to have his fangs scratch against your skin before he sucks on that spot. His favorite places include your neck but also in more hidden places like your inner thighs.

Your blood is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He’s addicted to the taste and savors it more than a fine wine. He has to remind himself to take it easy because as much as he loves your taste, you’re still mortal and he has to keep you alive.

Kars

As a Pillar Man, he does not think highly of humans like you. You are a mere mortal, and where you belong is below him. Hardly even worth a glance at all.

But for some reason, despite your status, he found himself protecting you from an encounter with someone trying to rob you late at night. He doesn’t even know why he jumped in to do so, but the look of reverence and awe in your eyes at his display of strength made him… intrigued.

He doesn’t hold back. He tells you everything, because, really, what are you going to do about it? You couldn’t escape even if you tried.

And now, you live your life as his human… pet? Partner? Servant? Thing…?

He’s very unclear about it. Some days he ignores you, and other days he mulls over his thoughts to you while he strokes your head.

Kars rarely ever gets aroused. He’s not a primitive beast and he’s very focused on his goals.

But, intellectually, he is curious about how you behave around him. He kind of likes the attention you give him and he recognizes how you’re affected by him physically.

One thing he’s super proud of? His voice. He knows how his voice can turn you on and drive you mad. He likes to get close to your and have his breath tickle your skin before he whispers words of praise for you doing so well for him.

“Oh, little one, you’re shivering. Are you afraid? Or are you excited?”

His favorite thing is to get you incredibly aroused while barely touching you.

Enjoys you riding his thigh- you look like a wanton little beast who can barely contain themself from him.

Kars likes you vocal, so that means you better be moaning, groaning, gasping, sobbing, and thanking him loudly. He doesn’t care who hears. If you try to hold your voice back he gets rougher to have you be louder.

Most of your intimate encounters will be him getting you off in order to humiliate yourself/hear you praise him. But in the few times he does find himself craving your body, be prepared.

He is huge. That doesn’t need to be stated but he’s big. Muscular. Strong. Tall. And he’s got full control of nearly every fiber of his body. As the perfect being, he knows he’s well-endowed and uses it to his advantage.

Some days he’s merciful and likes to take his time and prepare you. He’ll coo to you as if you are a mindless little animal (you probably will be after how well he stimulates you) and praise you for taking him so well.

“How precious. Control your breaths, pet. You can’t be this exhausted when we’ve barely begun yet. Now… relax yourself.”

Other days, he’s merciless and will use you without abandon. His cruelty and dominating nature comes out full force.

“Hmph, is this how you treat your new god? Beg better, or I’ll stop. You should be grateful I even deign to touch your mortal body.”

Although he insists he is not affected by your presence or that you are but a toy for him to entertain himself with, if someone were to threaten to harm or take you back (ie. Joseph/Caesar), he will step in and put an end to that foolish thought.

“It is unwise of you to think that you will take what is mine away from me.”

DIO (Stardust Crusaders)

A Dio fully in touch with his desires with little remorse or care. This new body of his makes him more confident and lecherous.

The many ‘victims’ that take up his bedchambers are usually fodder he disposes of quickly. And the ones that are ‘lucky’ enough to escape are very few.

You happen to be fortunately (or unfortunately) be his favorite. And being Dio’s favorite means many things.

You get special privileges almost no one else receives. Only you are allowed to caress and touch him so brazenly and easily, and only you can get somewhat mouthy with him.

He spoils you with fancier foods and drinks to fill you to your heart’s content. While others can argue over scraps, he gives you the opportunity to sit on his lap and feed him. And if he’s feeling nice, he’ll feed you too.

You also are practically immune to anything, so long as you keep remaining his favorite. If a minion tries something with you? Dead. Someone from the ‘harem’ insults you? Dead. Hell, a bird made too loud of a noise? Dead. He finds it hilarious to inflict damage due to his whims and somewhat twisted obsession with you.

“Hoh? Does it please you, knowing your lord is willing to go to such lengths to keep you safe? Now, what will you do to showcase how pleased you are?”

Most people catch on very quickly to stay away from you, lest they face an untimely death.

But it does mean he expects you to serve his every whim quickly. He’s so demanding with you, annoyingly so, actually, and he does it to mess with you. You’re his favorite but he will still be a joker with you.

He feeds on you often, but is in enough control to reign himself from taking all your blood. Sometimes he “jokes” that he just wants to drain you dry, but it’s up in the air.

Dio is pretty selfish in bed. Often he lays back and expects you to ride him, like a good pet should do for their lord. Go on, earn your keep.

He enjoys clawing at your skin and caressing the scratches he leaves on you later on.

Is not ashamed of making a public spectacle of you if he feels like it. Get used to him continuing to pound into you while Hol Horse attempts to give him a report update.

He takes his frustration and anger out on you physically. When he gets news that the Crusaders have foiled another batch of minions, he might go get his violent (and bloody) fill with a few random mortals, then return to you and sternly tell you to get on your knees. The stone cold expression on his face makes the room drop a few degrees and he will not talk much in these sessions.

Dio likes putting you in difficult situations for the thrill of it. Your reactions are always interesting, solidifying his interest in you.

He does admit that he’d probably never put you first above his plans (which he seldom talks about except when you two are relaxing after an intense night) and sardonically chuckles that he may enjoy you now, but it can all change if you stop being ‘fun’ for him.

But when Hol Horse attempts to grab you to threaten Dio, Dio’s face hardens in a way no one has ever seen before, and Hol Horse immediately aborts the plan. You’ve never seen Dio look that terrifying before.

He doesn’t speak of that event again, instead telling you to return to the room and stay there.

Expect him to keep him closer and have a tighter grip around you.

Yoshikage Kira

Hiding in plain sight has never been so easy for Kira after having his face switched with the poor sucker at Cinderella salon.

He could lie a bit longer, play pretend as a dutiful husband as this random man whose appearance he has taken.

He returns home to see you, the partner of the man he just took over, and he knows he’s in for trouble. He’s going to have to not only fend off suspicion from everyone else in town, but especially within his own home. He no longer has a safe space and it frustrates him.

He has never been in a formal romantic relationship, but he attempts to act ‘normal’, keeping some distance but still ‘polite’.

You don’t seem to suspect much- or maybe you’re just so happy to see some changes in your former husband- and always like to chat with Kira. At first he finds it dull and grating, despising how you talk about nothing useful.

But he can’t be too bland, so he’ll respond back. Usually one word responses and the like just to satiate you enough to get him off his back.

However, you’ll occasionally discuss a topic he is more interested in and then he’ll give you more of his personal opinion on the subject. Kira didn’t expect to find some comfort with having another person to share these discussions with.

And while he hated the fact his normal schedule before acting as your husband changed, he slowly starts to grow fond of his new routine with you. Waking up and receiving a goodbye kiss before he goes off to work has become his new morning energizer. Coming home to see the table set with you waiting for him makes the nights a bit more pleasant.

He’ll never really recognize if he enjoys this for real or if he’s doing this to keep up the act of a ‘good husband’. He’ll just let the days continue to go on like this while he loses the others off his back.

Although, one thing that really took him off guard was your heavy affection and sexual desires for him. You have nice hands, he’ll give you that, but he was so taken aback by your behavior. Apparently, throughout the whole night when you dressed up extra nice for him and made him his favorite meal and were complimenting him and swooning over him- that supposedly meant you wanted to take him to the room for some bed breaking action.

He honestly was so shocked that this was what your behavior meant and he had take a moment to recollect himself. Kira declined that first night because he truly has never had sex with another person, less so someone he was pretending to be married to. He was not mentally prepared for that to be thrown at him.

After calming himself down in a few days, he does attempt to be more physically intimate with you.

Yeah he’s mostly focused on your hands at first. He still doesn’t recognize if he actually loves you yet, but he won’t decline you giving him a handjob or stroking your hands over his toned body. And he’s always ready to be licking your hands.

After a few more times of these rather awkward and selfish sessions, he does pay it back and begins to explore your body more. He finds himself fascinated with how your chest rises and falls with every shaky breath and moan you let out. He likes the way your eyes roll into the back of your head.

His compulsive tendencies do appear in the bedroom, and he does let them out, but they honestly come off as roleplay. It’s kinda hot to hear your normally calm husband just huff and lecture you while he bends your body around roughly to ‘set you straight’.

“Enough of that. Seriously, can you not even put yourself together correctly? If you can’t dress properly, then don’t bother wearing anything at all.”

He’s way too deep into this marriage life with you, getting extra frustrated if anyone dares to disturb whatever you two have going on.

Diavolo

He falls in lust first. He hasn’t learned his lesson from the last time. Diavolo is a heavy believer in the concept of ‘Fate’, but he believes he is the ‘King’ who can overcome it.

Surely… ‘fate’ wanted you to be his subordinate.

You do a wonderful job, you never ask any questions that are unnecessary, and you never stray too far from what he’s asked. You always manage to get the job done in your own, unique way.

You’re his most trusted subordinate (underneath Doppio), and Diavolo can’t help but feel that selfish urge to contain you as a part of him forever. You’re attractive, so cunning, and so loyal to him- something that makes him believe you were meant to be ‘his’.

He’s run from his past for so long, but that makes him cocky. If you were to somehow lose his interest, he surely would overcome this ‘challenge’ and defy your fate, too. You’ll never know what hit you. Not to mention, he completely believes he’ll be able to keep you in check and under his thumb. He’s learned that much from his time.

So he lets himself be known to you, after all, good servants deserve some ‘rewards’ from their king, do they not?

He is a cruel man in bed, doing almost everything in his power to exert his control over you and dominate you.

Bondage, toys, threats, punishments, and even using King Crimson are not too out of line for this sadist.

He enjoys overstimulating you, loving the way you babble nonsense and tell him it’s ‘too much’.

The louder and messier it is, the better. Anything to show you who is the one in control and in charge, and where your proper place as his most devoted servant is.

He insists on a BDSM lifestyle outside of the bedroom too. Diavolo is not short on funds, so he’ll gift you an expensive accessory (probably with built in tracking on it) as a ‘reminder’ of who you belong to.

But knowing Diavolo, it’s a veiled threat. Fail to comply with his demands, fail to be entertaining to him, or worst of all, fail to keep his trust- you’ll be dealt with swiftly. Choose wisely when he ‘graciously’ lets you roam free.

He’s pretty giving otherwise. His constant jumping from villa to villa or hotel makes him take you with him and allow you some luxuries in those areas. You will always have a private suite away from the rabble and be able to relax.

Diavolo finds it sweet that you’ll trace the paisley tattoos/markings on his arm (sorry I like tattoos so uh-). He’ll let you do it for a bit, all while smirking down at you in amusement.

“Enjoying yourself, tesoro mio?”

Gets incredibly angry at the thought of someone touching you or finding you. Not purely out of love- but as a desire to keep you to him. If someone figured out your relationship with him, he’d have to swiftly deal with them and possibly you to keep himself hidden.

He does trust Doppio to escort you and take care of you, allowing him to be perhaps the only other person to see you physically and take you around wherever Diavolo needs you to be taken.

Surprisingly, Diavolo likes to listen to the opera and will play some records for you both to listen to while you both unwind or he is working on mundane things for Passione.

Enrico Pucci

A master manipulator who believes everything he’s doing is for your own good. He meets in the prison- you’re down on your luck, but you’re earnest and seeking redemption. How could he not want to give you the peace you’ve been searching for?

As the chaplain of Green Dolphin, he does get more access to you than others get, as well as allowing you the chance to take a break from your prison activities to talk or assist him.

He believes the chance meeting with you, you who was so pitiful in the chapel and begging for anything to comfort you in your hard time, was another mechanization of “gravity”.

It was simply fate to meet you, and it was fated that he had to be the one to save you. Perhaps this was a second chance at something he needed to do to be redeemed. Perhaps this was him seeing a kindred spirit within you.

Pucci takes it upon himself to offer you counsel or give you a moment of reprise. Once you two get closer, he begins to encourage more discussion and debate from you.

“Humans are powerless to oppose fate. Wouldn’t you agree on that?”

But Pucci is obviously not the completely helpful priest he acts as, as his more sinister and rough behaviors come out the more he is ‘pulled’ to you.

Pucci does continue to use Whitesnake as a mouthpiece, often to voice more ‘warnings’ to you so you do not get scared of Pucci directly. Obviously Whitesnake is just a separate being from Pucci, and you have nothing to worry about, because you obviously were not planning on doing anything to jeopardize Pucci’s goals or ideals, right?

He uses his authority and standing in Green Dolphin to get his way. Whether it is ridding of annoying prisoners or guards who bother you, or having you isolated as ‘punishment’ for perhaps doing something he didn’t like, Pucci will pull as many strings as he must.

Only he has your best interests in mind, and only he is the one who can give you salvation and the hope you long for. He is your ‘fate’ so long as you comply.

He has to admit, he is curious to get your Memory DISC to see all your memories. But he recognizes that would possibly be a step too far (he has some boundaries, he thinks) and attempts to get you to admit your memories on your own.

Incredibly attentive and will recall anything you’ve told him with 100% accuracy. It can be comforting and nice when you want to vent or talk to him. Do not think you can lie your way around him, though. Whether you’ve intentionally lied to him or not, he will promptly correct you and tell you to be truthful.

Pucci believes the Heaven Plan will save you and make you more willing to accept your fate. He confesses to you that what he’s doing will make you happier, will make you more free, and will make your tears dry up.

Although he says that, sometimes, when he looks at you, he does get those same feelings from before he met Dio. Those dreams of running away, running far away and committing blasphemous acts with you, much like those of the novels he’s read. He brushes them aside and counts prime numbers to rid himself of those ideas. He’s so close to his goal.

“Enough, Pucci. Enough. You’ve committed to this. You’re doing this for the good of humanity. Even if it’s hard, they’ll understand. They’ll come to learn to love their new life and accept their fate with a smile.”

Funny Valentine

Funny prioritizes public appearance and his goals over his private life. Despite Scarlet being gone from the picture, he isn’t all that distraught. But being a ‘widower’ does give him some sympathy from the public that he uses to leverage good PR.

And you are such a helpful assistant to him. You always have everything under control, every plan together, and whatever he may need quickly finished and given to him without him having to utter a word.

That competence is quite attractive to him, more so than your physical features (which he does enjoy and did catch his eye before).

He thinks to himself as a joke that he’d just adore having multiple copies of you running around the White House (and in the room) thanks to D4C, but he knows how dangerous it would be to play with your life like that. You’re so useful to him now, so he’ll care for you.

Funny pulls lots of all-nighters, especially during the Steel Ball Run, and that means, likewise, you are too, as his devout assistant. This does mean he’s more tired, but also more personable than his stern public face.

Sometimes he rambles about anecdotes from his time in the army or working as a senator. Sometimes he’ll tell a bad joke that makes you laugh from the fact that the strong president would say such a strange thing out of nowhere. But sometimes, he’ll admit how lonely it is, being the most powerful man in America. Especially without anyone beside him.

He takes advantage of the sob story he has to get you to be more vulnerable with him. And when you comfort him and offer him some help, he is quite happy internally that you did exactly what he hoped you’d do, but outwardly acts humble.

“How kind of you, dear. You needn’t worry about my nonsense, though. You aren’t on my payroll to be my personal therapist. I already stress you enough, as is.”

But you insist and who is he to deny you?

It doesn’t take long after that for your relationship to go beyond professional boundaries. A touch here, a longing gaze there- and Funny has to admit he enjoys the thrill of having a secret affair going on with his assistant right under the nose of the rest of the workers there.

And, scandalously, Funny is a freak. A really freaky guy.

Don’t get fooled by his professional nature and good posture that he displays for the newspapers. Funny is perhaps the most experimental and freaky man on the list, willing to try almost anything at least once (and it does give a good excuse to take you to his chambers).

He indulges in plenty of kinks; bondage, domination (whether you or him), roleplay, exhibitionism- it doesn’t matter.

But he will try to reign himself in because he is the president, even if he’d love nothing more than to have you on his desk and weeping for him. His biggest kink is roleplay, and in private, he will want to be addressed differently. This must go on at all times behind closed doors. Failure to adhere to his rules or attempting to embarrass him publicly will result in punishment.

“You little brat! Have I not been clear on what you were to do? Or were you hoping I would take matters into my own hands? Hm, since you seem to enjoy acting so improper, perhaps I shall reteach you manners. Lay down, now. I hope you’re prepared for what’s coming.”

Funny can look calm during any arguments he has with you, thus making him a tough man to debate. He is authoritative and believes he knows what’s best. While some backtalk is fine for the most part, after a while he puts his foot down and tells you to stop.

But then you two see each other after you’ve calmed down, and he holds you while apologizing. He’ll insist he loves you very, very much, but he’s just under so much stress and while you may have your heart in the right place, there are some things that just can’t go as you like.

Possessive when it comes to you, keeping you monitored by guards and by his side almost 24/7. You weren’t planning on betraying the country you love so much, were you, dear?

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takes1 · 4 months

Text

final part asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want again, (i marked the beginning of actual smut for ease of navigating) couldn't resist adding some kuroo stuff bc i love writing him even if its not sexual/thirst. this has turned a bit more into porn with plot forgive me i'm simple

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

info. nsfw / soft+rough kissy missionary sex / mentions of personal restraint / multiple orgasms / mentions of masturbation / gentle giant!asahi / asahi keeping your mouth shut / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / dacryphilia if you squint / sex toys (vibrator) / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.6k words / thanks for reading this asahi series!! it's been a delight!

haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. part three here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You chose some giant clothes to cover the fact that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

Then, with your security chair out of the way, you quietly slipped into the hall.

The familiar sound of Helldivers 2 on the entertainment speakers assaulted your ears. Of course, he got to invite friends over for the weekend.

You padded downstairs, the ache between your legs nearly unmanageable. You clenched your fists at the sight of his lazy ass as you walked behind the couch to get to the front door.

It was funny how quickly he zapped all desire from your body. You did not enjoy sobering up so quickly.

"I thought you said you were staying home!" Tetsurou called as soon as you grabbed the leash off of the rack.

You nearly pulled a muscle rolling your eyes so far back. You shook the thing violently from the doorway so he'd get it through his thick skull that you were literally doing what he texted you to do.

A couple voices muttered something, but your brother spoke volumes above it--

"Wait two seconds, shit-head!"

You clipped the hook into your dog's collar. To Hell with whatever he wanted. You unlocked the door and slipped on a pair of giant, black crocs.

That garbage pile gave you enough grief about your no-plans-plan in the past 12 hours to deserve being stranded on a barrel in the middle of the ocean. He could handle playing games with his friends while you went to walk the dog.

"C'mon, baby," You cooed and closed the door behind you.

It was, thankfully, nice and cold outside. You were glad you opted for some warm clothes.

"Where are my shoes?!" He yelled through the crack in the door. Almost to the end of the driveway, you didn't figure he had the gumption to follow you without them.

You pushed your hood up and pulled the strings.

A stop at the other side of the gate, and you waited for Maru to finish pissing in order to continue the walk. The big, empty street looked a little creepy in the dark.

flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!

You were glad to not be alone, but still threw your head back when he rounded the corner. His hands were shoved into his basketball shorts and he was shivering.

You both looked down to each other's feet at the same time. He had to put on your flip-flops, so his heels were hanging out the back and his grippers were on the pavement.

A silent exchange went down, one shoe at a time.

Now walking again, you returned to your baseline agitation.

"I don't need a bodyguard to walk the dog."

"Try being a little less stupid, and I'll trust you to not run off with the first guy you see."

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You think this is me sneaking out?"

He didn't respond quickly enough.

You kept walking, glad he was so cold that his teeth were chattering, "You're an idiot--."

He pushed you, unable or unwilling to argue.

"Why would I sneak out with the dog?" You muttered.

Another stop for Maru. It was silent, again, and you were wishing he would just go back by himself already.

"What's that smell?" He sounded ridiculously close to your head.

You looked up and realized that was because he was sniffing your hood. A sudden insecurity of smelling like sex flashed through you.

Pushing hard on his chest, you declared, "Fuck off."

It didn't send him flying the way you wanted it to. It only pissed him off, especially because he knew that smell from somewhere. He just couldn't recall exactly how right now.

You expected him to push or slap you back, so you tensed, but no such move was made.

"One day you'll thank me," He muttered with a grumpy chuckle.

A glance didn't do you any good. It was too dark to see his face.

"For what?" You rolled your eyes again.

It was quiet for so long that you were certain he had just been joking. As if he did anything to help you out, anyway. All he did was piss you off and get in your way.

"For making sure you don't get hurt."

Frustration on the tip of your tongue, you began to retort, "I--," but fell short of the will to say anything back for a minute.

Your glancing around in the dark didn't help you form any thoughts.

Maybe Asahi being so kind was just luck. Not the wise intuition you claimed to be guided by. There were already many times tonight that could've made a turn for the worse, and you hadn't realized until after the fact.

That didn't change how you felt, though, other than some newfound patience for Tetsurou's difficult, demanding nature.

Maru didn't want to go much further than the fifth lamp post, so your small party turned around before you could cross the street.

It was quiet on the way back. Just the jingle of your dog's collar and the flip-flip of these shoes you hated.

You rounded the corner and closed the gate behind you, Tetsurou opting to walk ahead since it was evident to him that there was no danger anymore.

It was just getting to be a comfortable silence when he had to speak up one last time.

"Has this tree always been sideways?"

You genuinely thought it was a joke, so you didn't spare a look when you crossed behind him to get inside. He caught you shoulder the way you hated so much and you swiped your hand to hit him, but saw what he was talking about and froze.

The both of you took a moment, dumbfounded, to stare at your lawn tree. It looked nearly snapped, like a hurricane had come through, but it hadn't rained in weeks. Nothing else was wrecked. Just the tree.

You felt guilty about it for just a second, but rationalized that it had nothing to do with you. You weren't sure what that was from.

"Maybe it was rotted from the inside?" You thought out loud.

He glanced around, suspicion at its full peak, and guided you inside swiftly by your upper back.

Tetsurou locked the door behind you and stayed stock-still, staring through the peephole for so long you didn't bother saying anything to him before heading back upstairs.

At your door, you heard him call to Kenma and Bokuto.

"Did one of you kick that tree in the yard?"

You collapsed against the door with a soft shut and an even softer sigh.

There was no time to deconstruct everything that was discussed, because your eyes followed a sound that nearly made you jump out of your skin.

The man took up so much of your bed. He was on his back, scarred knuckles brushed slowly up and down, a casual pump to quell his impatient cock.

His hand fit much better around it than yours. In his other hand, held closer to his face, he was clicking a small device- the familiar buzz of which inspired a complete takeover of tension between your legs.

Your embarrassment was no secret, and neither was his curiosity.

"I'd love to use this," He grinned and looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes.

It took some effort to find the lock on the door and make your shaky way over to the bed. Like last time, he met you at the side.

However, you noticed that before you left, he didn't have the same edge in his brow, or the eagerness that defined the way he pulled you into him.

When you stumbled, he caught you and tilted your head for a restless kiss. He was shoving his hands under the waistband of your pants and humming a sort of approval against your cool lips. It sent your stomach back into those fluttery waves of excitement all over again.

"You should take your clothes off," He muttered, fully immersed in his desire since he never had to sober off of it.

"Yeah- I should," You breathed against his rough, needy lips.

You were slipping back in quickly, though, when he took your lips in a chaste, passionate kiss all over again. His hands were slipping over your skin, discarding your hoodie before you could do it yourself.

His whole body was warm, it felt like he was burning through you when you stepped out of your pants and fell against his front. Like a melting ice cube.

When he picked you up this time and set you down, it was less premeditated, more animalistic. You gave a giggling smile when he parted your legs for him.

Any shyness he had before was long-gone after 10 minutes of imagining what he was going to do to you- you squirmed at his spit-slick fingers slipping over your soaking cunt.

"Still so wet for me," He muttered, pleased, into your hair, while his massive body settled over you.

That intense, near-evolutionary drive kicked in again where you believed you could take whatever he wanted to give you all night. It may have been the smell of his sweat, it may have been his grumbly voice.

"Obviously," You smirked. He grinned at your confidence.

"We can take this slow," He rolled a condom on without wasting any extra time, "I don't wanna hurt you."

The statement floored you for a moment. He didn't notice as he lined himself up with your tightness.

It echoed in your brain during the most contradictory part possible.

He sank into you- it wasn't easy, but after hours of build-up -more if you counted the self-pleasure you couldn't resist before he arrived- it was beyond rewarding to watch all of the stress and worry on his brow melt away in one smooth, slow stroke.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck," You whined, his grasp on your hip reassuring, but still a pen in which you couldn't wriggle from or adjust against, "God-!"

Your thighs twitched on either side of him, forcibly relaxed- you tried to catch your breath, but felt like your lungs were too constricted to do so.

His thumb brushed your cheek.

Patience and gentleness in the midst of it all allowed you to breathe a little easier.

Only kindness, with a hint of pity, remained in his expression as you gasped and struggled to ease up around his cock.

He looked away for a moment, his hand leaving the side of your face, and you heard a saving grace.

Asahi did you the liberty of placing it against your clit. His face lit up at the sight and sound of your newfound gratification.

"I bet that feels better, huh?" He smiled against your parted lips, stealing a few of your moans with an excited kiss.

There was a hard-to-pin inquisitiveness about his attitude surrounding your vibrator. Like he was dying to use it on you, feel you writhe around his still cock.

"Ohh my god-! Ah-Mn!" You cried against his lips.

It was met with chuckle and the slow pump of his hips sinking deeper into you.

It dulled the discomfort of his size, leaving only a feeling of fullness between your legs, a satisfied craving, and the intense waves of pleasure from your clit.

His pretty face and perfect body over you- how could you not just announce your paradise to everyone in the city?

One hand laced in yours, and you took control of your vibrator to swirl it the way you preferred while he picked up his leisurely pace.

He barely caught your high-pitched tone at the combination with an alarmed kiss.

Stalling, he warned, "You gotta be quiet," and leaned to press further kisses against your neck.

He quickly learned that you weren't going to stay that way for him, even if his balls were allegedly on the line.

The feeling of him going deeper, your thighs bouncing from his weight that shifted your entire body, and the building waves over your clit.

"Asahi," Came out in a needy moan.

"Shhh," He cooed, gripping the bottom half of your face to get your focus on him.

The beat of his thighs against the back of yours stole your attention instead- you squeezed against his palm with furrowed brows.

Another noisy cry at his size splitting through you, and he instinctively covered your mouth to shut you up.

He thrust hard into you and stayed there, earning a pitiful whimper, and leaned in close to catch your avoidant eyes.

A mutter against your heated skin, "Do I need to keep you quiet?"

His cock was stretching you beyond your limits- that steely look in his pretty brown eyes was so layered.

You clenched around him, butterflies attacking you now, of all times, at his stern tone, but genuine concern.

A gorgeous smile spread across his features when you nodded, helpless, but honest.

He felt too good- he filled you up better than you had imagined. You were stunned to feel that you were already close. There was just no possible way.

This wasn't how you wanted it to go.

It was too soon- you didn't want it to be over so quickly. But now, of course, you realized you didn't have the physical capacity to take him all night.

You tried moving the overwhelming buzz away from your needy clit, but met the resistance of his hand instead.

He pressed just enough to guide you right to an edge you couldn't pull back from. You whimpered against his palm.

You couldn't tell him you were about to cum. You couldn't move away, or speak, nor did you possess the will to push against him. All you did was claw, weak, across his back.

The look in his eyes responded to your subtle panic-pleasure without a word. A gentle fondness that he shouldn't have been capable of while he gave you his rougher strokes.

He removed his hand from your mouth just to swallow your sounds with a starved kiss, an avid grumble at the back of his throat when you took his tongue so well.

"Mm-!" You squeaked, nails digging deep red trenches into his shoulder.

It was an ultimate submission you never had the insurance to safely experience before.

You got the chance for a gasp before getting cut off -half a second before you could alert the entire house- by his huge palm again.

Asahi groaned as you tightened around him. He quickly shut himself up by flexing away the pleasure and leaning down to pant, warm breath spilling against your ear.

"Shh- I got you," His kindhearted whisper strung you along, crushing you underneath his weight, while he repeated that sweet promise, "I got you, baby."

All your worry of it being too soon dissipated as your orgasm wracked through your entire body and filled you with pure bliss. He fucked you hard and steady through it and didn't even grant you the dignity of looking away from him.

Your chest was tight at the end of it, eyes stinging, and you would've sobbed if he wasn't still keeping you quiet.

He watched your journey the whole time through your eyes, wholly captivated by your big, glossy fixation on him. When you blinked away the burn, he took no time to kiss them away.

Your body naturally relaxed, a twitchy and overstimulating process.

He slowed for you after he sucked the rest of your complicated tears up.

He was so heavy, so adamant on keeping your noise down that you couldn't tell him to stop. You weren't sure that you would try, even if he wasn't hindering your communication. The fact that you trusted him so much right now wasn't necessarily wise, but it felt right.

His growing intensity didn't hurt, but it didn't start to feel good until a raspy voice told you:

"Feels so good," He swallowed the spit gathered in his mouth and seethed, a light chuckle breezing past his lips, "You got no fuckin' clue."

That was just kind of sinful confession that gave you nervous chills even though he was already fucking you senseless.

He studied how your eyes clouded over at his words. A restrained, toothy smile nudged your jaw in a sugary kiss.

"I'm not gonna be able to get enough of you," He finally took his hand off of your lips and you were able to gasp at the impact of his words.

When he readjusted, he swept your legs up to his shoulders and dipped back down.

"A-Ah!" You barely choked out before he moved his hand back to its diligent place over your loud mouth.

He was so deep- you felt like he'd split right through you. Yet, you welcomed the possibility with the blessing of another steady-growing climax.

Yet, only one of you was so careless. He was so tender, so considerate because he could feel it, too. How fragile you really were in this position in regards to his size.

"God," He sighed at your loving stare.

"Gonna- ah, make me cum, lookin' at me like that," He groaned, a bit strained.

He finally dipped his head with closed eyes at the sweet, slick heat he just wanted to bury himself in. He couldn't get too carried away, now that it was starting to get difficult.

Your shitty stamina stroked his ego so much that he forgot he wouldn't be too far behind for a while. He got a bit ahead of himself and was paying for it with the climbing pressure in his stomach.

Your pussy was reason enough to fuck you harder, but that face was what really tested him.

His hand twitched at the compelling desire to hear you scream for him, but again, had to keep his sanity for the two of you. Next time he would make sure that brother of yours wouldn't be in the way.

He tried to keep an edge going, but found it laughably difficult to settle down.

If it wasn't your Fuck-me-harder eyes building up the needing to cum, it was your cute tits squished against your soft, scratched-up thighs, right under his chest.

It was impossible to keep himself from riding that high in the end.

As if to spite him, to completely spend all of his restraint, your watery eyes rolled back again. Your muffled whines filled his ears as you tightened once more around him, weaker this time but still more than enough to send him over the edge.

"G-od,fu-ck," He groaned, hitting just the right spot to fuck out both of your orgasms.

You felt him swell inside of you, his grip on your hand crushed yours back to the point that you couldn't claw him, his hips stuttered to a slow stop, deep inside of you.

A sense of satisfaction beyond the physical softened your face, your resistance between his fingers, and all your aching muscles. You weren't quite sure what it was, but didn't feel rushed to figure it out.

He was trembling when he released the lower half of your face, a beautiful sweaty and out of breath mess on top of you.

Once again, you gasped at the opportunity to breathe better.

He tensed up immediately and you flinched at the twitch of his cock inside of you.

"Shit- was I choking you?" He managed to stay worried right after he came.

You grinned, carefree on the backend of your own, and shook your head, "Mm-mm."

The look of unmatched relief that washed over him was supremely attractive.

He pulled himself out, slowly, and made a face at how much he came before turning to discard the tied-up thing into the trash with a solid toss.

You welcomed his cuddly shuffle up to your side by burrowing into his slippery chest, and sighed at last, "Cute butt."

That, of all things, made him uncomfortable. He cringed when you spared a glance up to his face from his chin. You rolled your eyes at his overthinking.

"You must be an athlete, or something--," You rubbed your face harder into his chest and felt his laugh resonate throughout your body.

It all felt natural. The joking, the cuddling, the winding down. You both forgot that you weren't together, let alone that you had only known each other for less than a week.

It was already warm with him next to you, but you were happy to be under the soft throw he found and pulled over.

"I can't believe you came twice," His soft laugh invited an embarrassed, but sharp look from you.

He clarified, "It's really hot, don't get me wrong--,"

"I'm not usually so easy," You half-joked.

A big, handsome guy that knew how to use his dick, went down on you, listened to you, and didn't shy away from a vibrator? It'd be a challenge to find a girl who wouldn't cum that quick.

You blushed under the cover of darkness at his gentle, comforting hold on your breast and reassuring kiss to the side of your neck.

The ache in your belly was evident when you were flipped over to be little spoon. It burned pretty bad and you couldn't exactly hide it.

"Did I hurt you--?"

"No," You muttered, clearing your throat, "No, I wouldn't say that."

He placed a big hand on your tummy, feather-light, and you looked over your shoulder to meet his perceptive gaze.

You sure as hell couldn't lie to this guy. He saw right through you.

You pouted and gripped your pillow. Of course you couldn't handle his dick the way you wanted to, the way you bragged about or even genuinely thought you could.

"You were so good," You admitted, a little sad in tone.

A warm kiss to the back of your head. He took the weight of his arm off of your sore body, sighing into your hair.

"You were, too."

He decided to drop the subject, since you both had strong opinions that seemed to clash.

You smiled.

You talked about a range of topics for the rest of the night. General information, first, then personal interests that turned into a long conversation about volleyball, then family history, then academics, then personality, goals, and attraction.

Soon it was 4 in the morning. You were eating popsicles from your freezer and discussing the adventure he had to get up to your window.

You both watched, trying your best to stay quiet, a minutes-long video one of his friends sent in the Karasuno volleyball group chat of him falling out of the tree outside.

A hand flew up to your mouth to silence your intense giggle-fit. You had no idea how you were going to keep something like this a secret from Tetsurou.

Before too long, the pain in your tummy was just an ache and the stranger in your bed turned into a lover overnight.

taglist:

ty for all the replies and reblogs and likes!! it means so much. it's really nice seeing all the other asahi appreciators out here!!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

@ruu-https @kasai-https

@40unung @deluluforcarlos55 @lili-harg @beyond-your-stars @noyaskneepad

@rinheartshyunlix @vintagevict0ria @am-3-thyst

<3 u are literally asahi mvp @screamin-abt-haikyuu

masterlist.

requests open!

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | wedding special

Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: the whole gang + family 🥰 → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, wedding!au, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 12.2k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Yoongi is so sweet 😭 You’ll see what I mean when you read, but he’s also a horny man that just wants to make the wedding day and night the best for his love 😭 Also, there’s still the usual sexual jokes and banter than friendcation is known for— there’s a few inside jokes, but you really don’t have to have read the whole series to understand them! → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, sexy lingerie, oral (male receiving), deep throating, multiple orgasms, sexual banter, pregnancy kink, spanking, pussy rubbing, nipple play and sucking, clit play, creampie, cockwarming, slow and hard sex, first a bit rough and dirty but then it turns slow and more passionate 🥹 → Author’s note: Remember when I did the winter special and I said that I would probably write more? Well, here I am with a new edition to Friendcation! This special is actually set before the ‘winter special’ 🤭 I do have two more specials planned for this lovely couple 🥳 I know that this is a special to a completed and established series, but I still do think that it kinda works as a one-shot still. So if you find this, not having read Friendcation before, I think you’d still be able to enjoy this, and if you end up liking it, you can always start reading the series (it’s filled with a lot of crack and sexual tension 🤭). And please don’t let the very sweet and romantic beginning fool you—this is very much still friendcation and the story will get filthy towards the end 👿 The taglist is technically closed, and I just went with the old original one— but if you want to be added to the taglist for the two other specials I’m gonna do, just let me know. And If you for some reason don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know that too! → Author’s note, pt2: So… remember how I said I would post this on the 20th? SURPRISE! I’m in my feels because of the ot7 photo— so here’s an early gift for you all 💜 Also, I did not really proofread this, simple because I’m too much of a happy mess to do so, so I’m sorry for any mistakes and whatnot. → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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This moment, bathed in magic, will weave itself into the very fabric of your memory, an indelible mark that time dare not erase until your very essence transcends this forsaken world.

But until that fateful day arrives, every precious moment enveloped in your boyfriend’s presence is a treasure to be savored—a sweet prelude to the boundless joy awaiting you when he finally becomes your husband!

At times, the surreal reality of marrying Yoongi, your once-friend-turned-best-friend-turned-soulmate, eludes comprehension, prompting you to pinch yourself just to affirm that this enchanting journey from friendship to love is indeed your reality.

A simple getaway—a friendcation with your best friends, and the simmering tension between you and Yoongi exploded like a tightly wound spring finally released, echoing the burst of a bubblegum bubble reaching its limit before bursting in a cascade of flavor and delight.

That’s precisely why you now find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of Seoul’s outskirts, enveloped by a forest alive with verdant splendor—a tapestry of towering trees crowned with emerald foliage, interwoven with lush grasses and bushes displaying an array of vibrant green hues, painting a picture of nature’s untouched magnificence.

Under Yoongi’s careful hands, string lights dance like fireflies, weaving around the sturdy trunks and graceful branches of the trees, forming a celestial canopy above. Amidst this enchanting glow, he has created a makeshift altar, a sanctuary for your love to bloom amidst the verdant embrace of nature.

Every detail meticulously arranged by Yoongi leaves you in awe, a tender reminder of his deep devotion—a gesture that fills you with a bittersweet mix of wonder and gratitude, as you realize anew the depth of his commitment to making your wedding day a cherished memory.

As the string lights cast their gentle glow, the forest transforms into a captivating fairytale image, each illuminated leaf and dancing shadow conspiring to steal your breath away. In this magical moment, Yoongi’s tender side shines through, igniting a newfound appreciation that fills your heart with a fluttering joy you never knew existed.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi’s voice, soft as a whisper, accompanies the gentle caress of his calloused fingers tracing circles on your skin. In that tender moment, as his touch soothes the frantic beat of your heart, you’re overcome by a puzzling mixture of nerves and anticipation—after all, it’s Yoongi, you don’t understand why you’d be nervous.

As he gestures towards the enchanting scene he’s meticulously crafted—the trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights, the stools arranged before the makeshift altar, even Holly parked to the side, adorned with ribbons and lights—Yoongi’s efforts overwhelm you with a wave of affection for the man who’s not just your partner but your future husband. Each thoughtful detail he’s woven into this momentous occasion stirs your heart, amplifying the love that binds you together.

With a tender smile gracing your lips, you lean in closer to Yoongi, your eyes reflecting the warmth of the fairy lights surrounding you. “I love it,” you muse softly, your voice a gentle melody in the tranquil forest. As you draw him nearer, your touch carrying the weight of affection, you add, “But I never knew this side of you—so soft, so tender. It’s like seeing you in a whole new light.”

He chuckles, that deep, resonant sound that melts your insides and sends your heart soaring, like a bird set free in the vast, open sky.

“You know I want our wedding to be perfect, or at least as close as we can get. Perfection might be an illusion, something that doesn’t truly exist, but damn, you’re the closest thing to it, babe. Anything for you.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you divert your gaze to the damp grass beneath your feet. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice tinged with emotion. “I love it.”

Yoongi’s gaze sweeps over you, his eyes lingering with admiration. He gently runs a warm hand over your flushed cheeks. “I love your dress,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Everything about you is stunning. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You’re adorned in a simple yet elegant dress, the delicate lace you adore gracefully hugging your figure. To complete the look, a flower crown, woven from nature’s most exquisite leaves and blossoms, rests upon your head, making you feel like a woodland fairy in a fairytale.

You chuckle, warmth blossoming in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You look incredibly handsome in your suit. I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Speaking of marriage— you did tell our parents what time the wedding is, right?” you ask, your voice tinged with nervousness. You glance up at the sky, the sun hanging low, a golden reminder that the ceremony is imminent. Anxiety bubbles within you as you realize none of your friends or family have arrived yet.

“Did you give them the right location? What if they can’t find us out here in the forest?” you ask, your voice rising with mounting anxiety. The nervousness gets the best of you, your heart pounding with worry as the reality of the secluded setting sinks in.

“Relax, babe. They’ll be here soon. The officiator will arrive, and everything will be fine,” he reassures you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As always, his calm presence grounds you, steadying your racing heart with just a single touch, or even the reassuring depth of his gaze.

Instantly, his words soothe you, the nervousness ebbing away with each syllable. You smile back at him, then glance down at your gown. It’s a simple, white dress—though you had wished for a different color, given how many traditions you’re already breaking. This fact has upset both your parents, who have scolded you countless times for not having a traditional wedding. But you and Yoongi are determined to follow your own path, and this forest wedding is exactly what you want—a heartfelt ceremony in the very place where your love story began.

As the distant hum of engines grows louder, you turn to see your parents’ and Yoongi’s parents’ cars winding their way up the uneven forest road. A rush of excitement courses through you as the vehicles come to a stop, and one by one, your beloved family members step out into the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, their faces radiant with anticipation and love.

Your mother rushes over, enveloping you in a tight, loving hug that fills you with warmth and reassurance. Moments later, your father joins in, his embrace just as comforting. Then, Yoongi’s parents step forward, wrapping you in their arms, their affectionate gestures bridging the gap between families. In a seamless exchange, your parents switch, their hugs crossing boundaries and symbolizing the unity and love that binds you all together.

“Is it too late to have a traditional wedding?” Yoongi’s mother asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she bats her lashes, her voice carrying a playful tease that dances on the air like a feather.

“Eomma! We’ve discussed this before. We don’t want a traditional wedding,” Yoongi groans, his frustration palpable as he defends your choices once again. You can practically feel the weight of his exasperation, as if he’s on the verge of pulling out his hair in sheer frustration.

“Yes, yes. I know,” she says softly, her smile tinged with wistfulness as she gently nudges Yoongi’s shoulders. Despite her words, her eyes shimmer with fond memories and unspoken hopes, casting a warm glow that belies her timid demeanor.

“Shouldn’t you just be happy that I’m getting married at all?” Yoongi frowns, a hint of playful defiance in his expression, but his lips curve into a crooked smile that reveals the warmth of his affection, his gums peeking through like hidden treasures.

“Yes, you keep surprising me. Next, you’ll give me grandchildren, yes?” she asks, her voice laced with playful anticipation, her arms enveloping Yoongi in a tender embrace. With a loving smile, she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Eomma, no,” Yoongi groans in mock disgust, though a playful twinkle dances in his eyes at the attention his mother showers upon him. You catch the subtle excitement in his voice, a reflection of the shared dreams you both harbor for the future. And as you exchange knowing glances, anticipation tingles in the air, as you are looking forward to all the nasty and dirty stuff you and Yoongi will be doing under the moonlight tonight.

You might just make a baby, who knows?

As you stand beside Yoongi and his mother, your attention is abruptly drawn away by the distant hum of engines. You turn to see multiple cars pulling up, their tires crunching on the grass as they park beside your parents’ vehicle. With each arrival, the air fills with a sense of excitement and anticipation, signaling the imminent gathering of loved ones to celebrate your special day.

You scan the arriving guests, and your eyes light up with delight as you spot your friends and Yoongi’s heavily pregnant sister. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she radiates a vibrant glow, her anticipation palpable in the gentle curve of her belly. You can't help but feel a surge of excitement and warmth, knowing that she’s on the brink of welcoming new life into the world.

Your gaze sweeps over the arriving cars, and your attention is snagged by one unfamiliar vehicle, its sleek silhouette contrasting with the rustic charm of the forest surroundings. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you realize that this could be the arrival of the officiator, the final piece in the puzzle of your wedding ceremony.

Your friends spill out of their cars, their laughter and excited chatter filling the air as they rush towards you and Yoongi. In a whirlwind of embraces and enthusiastic greetings, they envelop you both in a cascade of warmth and affection, their love palpable in every heartfelt hug and joyful smile.

Jimin strides in solo tonight, a vision of confidence in his sleek suit. Namjoon arrives with his date—the one he couldn’t stop texting since your vacation months ago. She exudes grace and warmth, fitting seamlessly into the group. Seokjin’s arm is wrapped protectively around his girlfriend, her gentle smile glowing despite the weight of her pregnancy. Meanwhile, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive without dates, their playful banter and laughter hinting at the unbreakable bond between them, yet leaving you curious about their romantic adventures, or lack thereof.

Surrounded by the warmth of your friends and family, your heart swells with happiness, as if it might burst from the overwhelming tide of love washing over you. Amidst the joyful chatter and laughter, your gaze falls upon Yoongi, his eyes alight with a radiant smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear, his conversation with his sister and brother-in-law a testament to the deep bonds of family and the anticipation of this special day.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow across the forest, the air seems to hum with anticipation, the vibrant hues of the surroundings intensifying under the magical embrace of the golden hour. The fairy string lights, once subtle, now twinkle like stars amidst the verdant canopy, weaving an enchanting tapestry of light and shadow that dances with the gentle breeze, infusing the atmosphere with an ethereal charm.

The officiator locks eyes with Yoongi and gives him a subtle nod, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. Your heart flutters with excitement, mingled with a hint of nervousness, as you realize that the moment you’ve been waiting for is finally here. Giddy anticipation bubbles within you, causing your palms to grow clammy with nervous energy. You fumble with the delicate lace of your dress, trying to dry your sweaty hands, your fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Your friends and family settle into the chairs meticulously arranged by Yoongi, their laughter and chatter filling the air with warmth and anticipation. The chairs are nestled on the lush grass, forming a cozy circle in front of two majestic trees adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft, enchanting glow. As your loved ones take their seats amidst the magical ambiance, you feel a sense of unity and excitement building, like the anticipation before the opening act of a grand performance.

With a sense of solemnity, the officiator leads the way towards the towering trees, their branches adorned with twinkling lights that illuminate the gathering dusk. You and Yoongi follow closely behind, your fingers intertwined in a reassuring grip, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation and the promise of forever.

As the warm summer air envelops you, carrying the hum of insects and the symphony of nature’s song, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you. This is your element, being embraced by the gentle caress of nature’s embrace, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the forest. With each breath, you and Yoongi are united in your love for the great outdoors, and in this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of your wedding venue, you feel more connected than ever before.

The officiator begins to address you, your loved ones, and the assembled guests, his words weave a tapestry of emotions and imagery. He speaks of the intricate journey from friendship to love, likening it to the delicate bloom of a red tulip, its vibrant petals unfurling in a display of magnificent colors. His voice resonates with tales of enduring love, reminiscent of the fairytales of old, and despite your initial skepticism, you find yourself drawn into the beauty of his words. While your own love story with Yoongi may not fit the traditional fairytale mold, there’s a raw and genuine beauty in the imperfect, real-life moments you’ve shared together.

As the officiator speaks, your gaze naturally drifts to Yoongi, his hands clasped lightly in yours. You hold him with a tenderness that belies your fears, as if he’s fragile and delicate, but deep down, you know he’s as sturdy as the roots of the trees surrounding you, built to weather any storm. It’s evident in the strength of his embrace, the gentle yet firm touch of his fingers interlocked with yours, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

When your eyes meet his, you’re captivated by the intense love shining in his dark chocolate brown eyes, a depth of emotion you’ve never seen before. His smile radiates warmth, softening the lines of his face and illuminating his features with a tender glow. Dressed in a sharp suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, he exudes an effortless elegance that takes your breath away, his presence commanding attention and admiration.

As the officiator begins the ceremony, the world around you fades into a soft, low buzz, like the distant hum of bees in a summer garden. Despite the faint background noise, Yoongi’s voice cuts through clearly as he recites his vows, each word carrying the weight of his love, lifting you higher than the clouds. His words wrap around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the depth of his devotion. When it’s your turn to speak, you watch the impact of your vows on Yoongi, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his trembling lip betraying the depth of his emotion. In that moment, the love he holds for you shines brighter than any star, illuminating his handsome face with an ethereal glow.

Yoongi says ‘I do’, and a surge of exhilaration floods through you, lifting your spirits as if you could soar high into the clouds. This moment, the culmination of your deepest desires and fondest dreams, fills you with a profound sense of joy and fulfillment. For so long, you harbored secret feelings for him, uncertain if your love would ever be reciprocated. But now, as you stand on the brink of forever, you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he loves you just as fiercely. In his ‘I do’ you find the reassurance that your hearts are perfectly aligned, destined to journey through life together as one.

Yoongi’s touch is tender as he clasps your hands in his, his eyes shimmering with an unspoken vow of love and devotion. With gentle precision, he slides a golden band adorned with small, glistening crystals onto your ring finger, each delicate touch imbued with the weight of a promise that spans eternity. As the cool metal meets your skin, a rush of warmth floods through you, a tangible reminder of the enduring bond you share and the beginning of a new chapter in your love story.

A smile spreads across your face, one of those ‘I’m stupidly in love’ grins that lights up your entire being. You’re acutely aware that your expression must look utterly comical to anyone watching, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less. All that matters is the overwhelming rush of joy and adoration that fills your heart, painting your world in vibrant hues of love and happiness.

As the officiator’s gaze falls upon you, a sense of gravity settles over the scene, and you realize it’s your turn to say I do. Locking eyes with Yoongi, you feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the very air around you becomes charged with anticipation. The once bright skies darken, heavy clouds obscuring the sun, and the forest is cloaked in the earthy scent of moss. Yet, you’re unfazed by the changing nature around you, your focus solely on the man before you. With unwavering determination, you speak the final words, ‘I do,’ and as if in response to your declaration, the heavens open, showering the world with rain—a fitting testament to the intensity of your love and the power of your union.

The rain pours down in torrents, soaking you to the bone, your once-flowing dress now clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Oblivious to the chaos around you, the cacophony of your friends and family’s screams as they scramble for cover, you lock eyes with Yoongi. His long black hair is plastered to his face by the relentless downpour, and yet, there’s an undeniable joy in his laughter that mirrors your own. With a shared glance, you burst into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation only strengthening the bond between you. As you slide the ring onto his finger, your laughter mingles with the rhythmic patter of raindrops, a symphony of love and laughter. In that moment, as the officiator pronounces you married and grants you permission to kiss, you share a tender embrace, sealing your vows amidst the exhilarating chaos of the downpour.

And kiss you do. With an urgency born of love and longing, Yoongi leans in, his soft lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate embrace. Despite the rain drenching you both, you can’t help but chuckle into the kiss, the warmth of his touch melting away any discomfort. As he pulls you closer, his arms enveloping your drenched form, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, binding you together in an intoxicating dance of desire. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the beat of your hearts echoing in perfect harmony. In the background, amidst the cheers and applause of your friends and family.

The kiss feels like a spell woven between you, a moment of pure magic and transcendence. It takes you back to the day when Yoongi proposed, a memory etched in your heart like a cherished melody. You recall the day vividly: Yoongi toiling away in his garage, hands stained with motor oil, yet his eyes ablaze with a passion that mirrored the fire in your own heart. It was one of those late nights, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil, as you shared takeout amidst the hum of machinery. Unbeknownst to you, he beckoned you over to the car he was working on, his intentions shrouded in mystery until the moment he kissed you—deep and fervent, igniting a flame of desire within you that threatened to consume you both. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might rip your clothes off and take you atop the very car he was fixing, the thrill of anticipation quickening your pulse. Instead, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with unspoken love, as he uttered those life-changing words. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was quintessentially Yoongi—unexpected, sincere, and overflowing with the depth of his affection. And in that moment, as you uttered the easiest ‘yes’ of your life, you knew that your love story was destined for greatness, forged in the quiet moments of intimacy and the simple beauty of everyday life.

The rain continues to pour down, drenching you both to the bone, yet Yoongi’s kiss remains unbroken, as if time itself has stretched out to accommodate this perfect moment. Each passing second feels like an eternity, your senses heightened by the coolness of the rain and the warmth of his lips. You can feel a deep, growing desire unfurl within you, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every tender caress.

“Hey hyung! You shouldn’t stick your tongue down her throat like that, it’s gross!” Jungkook’s playful shout pierces through your passionate moment, jolting you back to reality. You reluctantly open your eyes, laughter bubbling up despite the interruption, only to lock eyes with your mother. Her expression speaks volumes, a single displeased look delivering a silent scolding that makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. The contrast between the fiery intimacy of Yoongi’s kiss and the sudden, humorous reality check from your friends and family fills you with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a deep, abiding love for the man holding you close.

Yoongi pulls away gently, his hands steadying you as he straightens you up. A chuckle escapes your lips, quickly blossoming into full laughter as you realize the intensity of your kiss might have been a bit too much for your audience. The amused glances and knowing smiles from your friends and family only add to the humor of the moment, making you feel both exhilarated and slightly sheepish. The love and joy of the occasion, however, remain undiminished, as you and Yoongi share a private smile, basking in the sheer delight of your unrestrained affection.

Despite the rain, your friends and family rush towards you, their faces alight with joy and excitement as they shower you and Yoongi with heartfelt congratulations. Your parents, though expressing their initial desire for a traditional wedding, admit with warm smiles that this ceremony was uniquely beautiful and special. The mingling continues for a while, laughter and chatter filling the air, but soon, the persistent downpour compels both your parents and Yoongi’s to consider heading home.

You embrace your parents tightly, feeling the warmth of their love despite the rain. They are the first to depart, leaving behind words of encouragement and happiness. Next, you bid farewell to Yoongi’s parents. His mother, ever the tease, turns back with a mischievous smirk. “Have a lovely night. I expect grandchildren!” she calls out, her voice carrying a playful lilt. You laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, as her cheeky remark adds a final touch of joy to this unforgettable day.

And with that, they depart, their figures slowly disappearing into the misty depths of the forest. You and Yoongi are left behind, choking on your laughter, the echoes of their playful words lingering in the air. The sound of your mirth blends with the soft patter of rain and the rustling leaves, creating a symphony of joy that perfectly encapsulates the magical moment. As you watch them fade from view, a sense of serene happiness washes over you, knowing this enchanting night is just the beginning of your beautiful journey together.

Yoongi’s sister and her husband approach next, their smiles warm despite the rain. You exchange heartfelt hugs, feeling the comforting swell of family support. “Thank you so much for coming,” you say sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. They nod, their eyes shining with shared happiness, before bidding their farewells and disappearing into the misty evening.

The officiator steps forward, his eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. “This was an absolute joy for me to officiate,” he says warmly, shaking your hand with a firm, friendly grip. “I rarely get the chance to oversee non traditional weddings, so this was truly special for me as well.” His words carry a heartfelt sincerity that touches you deeply. With a final nod and a parting smile, he bids you farewell, leaving you with a sense of profound gratitude for the unique and beautiful ceremony he helped create.

With only your friends remaining, they close in around you, a joyful swarm of affection and excitement. Their laughter and exuberant chatter fill the air, wrapping you in a warm, comforting cocoon of love and support. You feel their genuine happiness radiating towards you, each hug and congratulatory word a testament to the deep bonds you share. The moment is electric, their energy infectious, making you feel incredibly blessed to have such wonderful friends by your side on this unforgettable day.

“Did you bring your camera?” Yoongi asks Taehyung, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Of course! It’s in my car,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“But do you really want pictures in this rain?” Taehyung asks, his brows furrowed in uncertainty, his concern evident in his tone. The rain continues to pour, casting a shimmering veil over the forest clearing. Despite his hesitation, there’s a glimmer of determination in Taehyung’s eyes. “My camera is weather-sealed,” he reassures, his voice tinged with resolve. “And I can always enlist Jungkook or Jimin to hold an umbrella over it, just to be safe.”

His willingness to brave the elements for the sake of capturing your special day fills you with gratitude and admiration.

“Yeah, just some shots over by that tree over there,” Yoongi muses, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender gesture that sends a shiver of delight down your spine. The gentle touch of his kiss elicits a soft giggle from you, the sound echoing amidst the gentle patter of raindrops. In that fleeting moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the forest, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and contentment enveloping you, binding you ever closer to the man whose presence fills your heart with joy.

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a nonchalant shrug, his excitement palpable despite his casual demeanor. The fact that Yoongi had asked him beforehand fills him with a sense of pride, evident in the way he confidently reaches for his camera. You watch as Taehyung, fueled by anticipation, turns to Jungkook, a mischievous glint in his eye as he enlists his friend’s help. With a shared grin, Jungkook readily agrees, stepping forward to be Taehyung’s trusty assistant for this impromptu photoshoot. Together, they gather the necessary equipment—a camera and an umbrella—and set off towards the designated tree, their laughter mingling with the soft patter of rain.

You don’t want to capture too many photos, just a select few to encapsulate the ethereal beauty of this rain-soaked day. Hand in hand with Yoongi, you approach the towering tree, its branches adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft glow against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Taehyung guides you further away from the tree, his camera poised to capture the perfect shot. With expert precision, he explains the importance of separating you from the background to achieve a stunning bokeh effect in the photos. Following his instructions, you step a few meters away, the string lights creating a halo of warmth and intimacy around you both. As twilight descends, a magical transformation takes place. The gentle hum of nature fills the air, accompanied by the soft patter of raindrops and the distant chirping of crickets. Suddenly, tiny pinpricks of light begin to dance around you, their soft glow illuminating the darkness like miniature stars. You gasp in awe as you realize that the air is alive with fireflies, their luminous presence adding an enchanting touch to the already magical atmosphere. It’s a scene straight out of a fairytale, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated magic that you know will be etched in your memory forever.

Taehyung presses his finger on the camera’s shutter, immortalizing the tender moments unfolding before him. First, he captures you and Yoongi standing side by side, your expressions innocent and serene. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Yoongi leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The scene shifts as Yoongi gently turns you to face him, the world around you fading into a blur. With a sudden, passionate intensity, he captures your lips with his in a fiery kiss, the heat of it igniting every nerve in your body. Taehyung’s camera clicks rapidly, capturing each electric moment as Yoongi’s embrace tightens, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, just the shared breath and the undeniable love that burns brighter than the fairy lights around you.

Yoongi’s fingers glide to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips leave yours, tracing a fiery path down to your throat where he kisses and sucks, leaving a deep purple mark on your skin. A groan of delight escapes your lips, your senses consumed by his touch. The world around you fades into oblivion as Yoongi’s lips travel back up to your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing against your skin. He whispers sweet nothings, painting vivid images of all the things he wants to do with you tonight, each word stoking the fire of lust and making your pulse race with desire.

Jungkook clears his throat, breaking the spell of Yoongi’s intoxicating kiss. As you reluctantly pull away, your gaze lands on Jungkook, whose cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, reminiscent of that day he accidentally walked in on you and Yoongi in the garage. The memory flashes vividly in your mind—the startled look on Jungkook’s face, the awkward shuffle of his feet, and the embarrassed apology that followed.

“I’ll only take photos of you kissing,” Taehyung huffs, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he lowers his camera. “If you want more raunchy photos, you should hire a professional.” He places the camera carefully to the side, while Jungkook, his cheeks still faintly red, lifts the umbrella higher to shield Taehyung and the equipment from the rain.

You and Yoongi both nod, a shared understanding passing between you. It’s so easy to get lost in each other’s embrace, to forget the world spinning around you. You offer a quick apology to Taehyung and Jungkook, but the sincerity is wrapped in the light-heartedness of the moment. Despite the raindrops falling around you, you all burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the patter of rain.

“But you are a professional photographer now, Tae,” you giggle, pulling Yoongi away from the tree. The rain continues to fall softly around you, creating a magical ambiance as you make your way over to the rest of your friends, who are still waiting for you with bright smiles and open arms. Yoongi squeezes your hand, and you feel a rush of warmth and happiness, knowing that this moment, surrounded by loved ones, is exactly how you imagined your special day.

“Yeah, but I don’t do that kind of photography. But I do know a guy who does amazing boudoir shoots,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your eyes light up at the mention, the wheels in your brain churning with ideas. You turn towards Yoongi, your husband, a playful grin spreading across your face as you imagine the possibilities.

“Would you prefer photos of me in my wedding dress or in my wedding lingerie?” you ask, your voice a soft, teasing whisper. You notice how his pupils dilate, his breath hitching slightly, which brings a lovely, satisfied smirk to your lips. The anticipation in his eyes makes your heart race.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his eyes, quickening his pace to escape the conversation, his discomfort evident as he strides ahead, trying to distance himself from your playful banter.

“Wedding lingerie?” His voice comes out raspy, almost strangled, as if the very thought has taken his breath away.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, a surge of excitement coursing through you, your heart beating faster with every step closer to your friends. You squeeze his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment, while the smiles of your friends awaiting you ahead fill you with a sense of joy and anticipation.

“Are you wearing it right now?” he asks, his gaze trailing over your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. It’s as if he could see through the layers of your wedding dress, his eyes sparking with curiosity and desire.

You chuckle, feeling a playful surge of excitement as you bounce in front of him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a coy smile, you purse your lips and quip, “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Your words are laced with anticipation, leaving him intrigued and eager for what’s to come.

Taehyung’s chuckle ripples through the air behind you, rich with amusement, while Jungkook emits a soft sound of discomfort, his unease palpable in the subtle shift of his stance.

“You can give me that photographer's contact info later, right Tae?”

You hear Yoongi’s voice behind you, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of excitement. It makes you chuckle softly, surprised yet pleased by his interest in the idea. You hadn’t been sure if he would entertain the thought of such intimate photos of you. But as his words sink in, a warmth spreads through you, and you’re filled with a newfound eagerness. You’ve always been curious about boudoir photography, and the idea of exploring it with him fills you with anticipation.

You finally catch up with the rest of your friends, who immediately turn their attention to you and Yoongi, their faces lighting up with big, joyous smiles. The warmth and love radiating from them wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you can feel the excitement and happiness in the air as they welcome you with open arms and congratulatory cheers.

“This wedding is a celebration of love in its purest form,” Namjoon begins, his gaze sweeping over the enchanting forest setting. The fairy lights twinkle in the dusk, casting a magical glow over the scene. You can see the admiration in his eyes, knowing he envisions a similar backdrop for his own wedding someday. With his deep love for nature, this setting, with its lush greenery and serene ambiance, is indeed the perfect venue.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he adds, a big smile spreading across his lips as he pulls his girlfriend into his embrace and plants a tender kiss on her forehead. Watching them, you can’t help but think how incredibly adorable they look together, their affection radiating a warmth that adds to the magic of the evening.

“Of course. We’re just so thrilled to have everyone here to celebrate this special day with us. You’re welcome to stay if you want—sleep under the stars like we did on vacation,” you quip, a big smile lighting up your face. Your eyes glisten with the fond memories of those three magical months, filled with laughter and unforgettable adventures with your friends.

Jungkook is the first to look away, clearing his throat but remaining silent. Jimin, however, turns to you with a playful smirk plastered on his face. “We didn’t bring any tents with us, sorry,” he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Seokjin chimes in with a knowing smile, “We need to sleep at home, closer to the hospital, you know, just in case we go into labor. Can’t risk it out here.” His hand gently rests on his partner’s belly, and you can see the mix of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

His girlfriend shoots him a stern look, “I’m the one going into labor. Me. I’ll be doing all the pushing and stuff while you just sit and observe.” She scoffs slightly, her irritation clear as she places her fisted hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and determination.

“What? Do you think I’ll just sit and watch you give birth? No, no. I’ll hold your hand, your thigh, whatever you need, love,” Seokjin breathes, rushing over to reassure his pregnant girlfriend. The moment his hands rest on her stomach, you see her shoulders relax and a hint of a smile touches her lips. His touch seems to melt away her irritation, and the love between them is palpable, a beautiful testament to their bond.

You smile, savoring the moments when you observe your friends with their partners. It reminds you of how grand and sweet love can be, or how it can bring laughter with its quirks. Your heart swells with affection as you watch Seokjin and his girlfriend banter playfully. Their lighthearted exchange makes you chuckle, resonating deeply and reminding you of the delightful dynamic you share with Yoongi.

“We have some spare tents in Holly that you can use,” Yoongi quickly interjects, pulling you closer with a firm yet gentle grip on your hips. His touch sends a warm shiver through you, grounding you in the moment and making you feel cherished. You lean into his embrace, smiling as you think about how considerate he always is.

Taehyung swiftly stows his camera away in his car, sheltering it from the relentless downpour, before rejoining the group. He inserts himself into the conversation with a playful yet teasing tone. “Look, we just don’t want to hear you have sex again, thank you very much,” he quips, his expression a mix of amusement and mock exasperation.

You shoot a wide-eyed glance at the guys, their cheeks flushing with vivid hues of embarrassment, vividly recalling the escapades from your vacation days. Your own ears burn crimson with the memories flooding back, a mixture of nostalgia and amusement swirling within you.

“Yes, it’s probably for the best, yeah,” your words tumble out in a nervous chuckle, accompanied by a nod of agreement. The memory of past escapades tinges your cheeks with a hint of embarrassment. Deep down, you're relieved by their decision, grateful to avoid any repeat performances in front of your friends. Their words resonate, striking a chord of truth, and you find yourself conceding to their wisdom.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, while your fingers remain intertwined with Yoongi’s.

“It’s your wedding night. You should get to enjoy it unrestricted, you know what I mean?”

His voice is a hushed whisper against your ear, igniting a blush that creeps across your cheeks. Oh, you understand his meaning all too well. After all, he was the one who lent a hand in selecting your wedding lingerie. In that moment, you’re struck by a surge of gratitude for your loyal confidant — your ultimate ride or die. Next to Yoongi, of course; he holds a special place in your heart.

Jimin extricates himself from the embrace, and you catch the familiar glint of disapproval in Yoongi’s gaze. It’s a look he often wears, a silent protest against the closeness he perceives between you and Jimin. But there’s no cause for concern; Yoongi needn’t fear. Your affection for Jimin is pure and platonic, a bond woven with the threads of years of friendship and trust. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if Yoongi sees something you don’t, something lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

Jimin then sidles over to Yoongi, enveloping him in a snug embrace, his lips moving in a hushed murmur that escapes your ears. Whatever secret message Jimin imparts seems to evoke a predictable response from Yoongi—a roll of the eyes accompanied by Jimin’s infectious laughter, a silent exchange that speaks volumes of their friendship.

“Time to head back,” Jimin announces, gently guiding your friends towards their awaiting cars. “We’ll leave the lovebirds to enjoy their first night as a married couple in peace.” His laughter ripples through the air, a contagious melody that makes you chuckle.

As they make their way to their cars, each of your friends pauses to envelop you in warm hugs and heartfelt congratulations, their genuine affection palpable in the air. With bittersweet smiles, you wave them off, watching their cars disappear into the distance.

You pivot toward Yoongi, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Now that we’ve got the whole forest to ourselves,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice, “what’s your pleasure?”

Yoongi’s smirk widens as he raises a suggestive eyebrow, raindrops still clinging to his skin and clothes. “What do you think I want to do?” he teases, his voice low and inviting.

“Get in the van, babe,” he adds, his tone hinting at a world of thrilling possibilities.

Excitement and arousal surge through your body like an electric charge as you stride towards Holly, your hand eagerly grasping the handle as you step inside, ready for whatever adventures await with Yoongi by your side.

Yoongi follows you eagerly, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing the finality of the moment. With a soft sigh, you sink into the cozy embrace of the makeshift bed, the anticipation of the night ahead palpable in the air.

You lay down on the bed, smirking up at Yoongi as you lick your lips, trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in his mind. You wonder how he wants to take you, what he plans to do tonight. One thing is certain—you know exactly what you want to do to him.

Yoongi hovers over the bed, looking down at you with dark pools of lust in his eyes. Your gaze drops, catching sight of the bulge in his pants, and a soft, seductive chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’re already getting hard,” you breathe, your voice feather-light. The thought of having him in your hand, or even taking him deep into your mouth, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

He grunts, “What did you expect? Now strip so I can see that lingerie, babe.” His voice is rough with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

You laugh wholeheartedly, the sound echoing in the intimate space, because that is so Yoongi. You know the thought of your lingerie has probably been driving him wild since you hinted at wearing it.

With a teasing smile, you rise from the bed and stand tall before him, well, not taller, but still. Holding his gaze, you let your hands travel to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down slowly. The sound fills the van, and you see Yoongi’s brow twitching, his anticipation evident. He's probably doing all he can to resist the urge to ravish you right then and there.

You let your wedding dress cascade off your frame, sliding down your hips and pooling around your feet. Yoongi’s expression is priceless; his adoration for you is unmistakable, his lust palpable in the way his lips curl into a smile and his eyes unabashedly roam over your body. You bask in his gaze, loving every second of it. Your hands find their way to your breasts, groping and pressing them together. “Do you like it?” you ask, mirroring his earlier question, batting your eyelashes at him with a feigned innocence that you both know is far from the truth.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just stands there, taking you in. His eyes roam over your white lingerie set, lingering on the lacy bra that’s sheer enough to reveal the darker hue of your nipples. Delicate strings extend from the cups, winding over your shoulders and around your waist, accentuating every curve. You’re wearing a white lace g-string to match, barely covering anything, and to complete the look, a suspender belt holds up a pair of white lacy stockings. His silence speaks volumes, the heat in his gaze making you feel more desired than ever.

You chuckle softly, the sound filling the silence as he remains speechless, mesmerized by the sight of you. The power you feel in this moment is intoxicating, knowing you have him utterly captivated. Your eyes sweep over him, taking in every detail, and you lick your lips slowly, savoring the anticipation. Your mind races with wicked ideas of how you can tease him further, heightening the delicious tension between you.

“There’s a wet patch on your pants, Yoon,” you purr, closing the distance between you. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear, your breath hot and tantalizing. Your right hand glides down to his crotch, cupping his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat and firmness beneath your touch.

“Speechless?” you tease, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. His response is a low, guttural grunt, and you smile, knowing you have him right where you want him. With a subtle increase in pressure, your hand caresses his cock through his pants, relishing in the power you hold over him.

“Gonna suck your dick, Yoon,” you whisper seductively, your voice dripping with desire. “Gonna make you come down my throat. You can make me choke on your cock. Then you can fill up my pussy, maybe get me pregnant, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Each word is laced with a potent mix of passion and anticipation, igniting a fiery hunger between you both.

You feel a surge of empowerment, like a femme fatale in control of her prey—savoring every moment of rendering him speechless. Damn, you enjoy it way too much. It makes you soak your panties. The anticipation ignites a wildfire of desire within you, causing your senses to heighten. You can practically feel the electric tension crackling in the air as you drop down to your knees, a siren of seduction ready to unleash your desires upon him.

With a swift and practiced motion, your hands move with purpose, deftly unzipping his dress pants and pulling them down, along with his underwear, revealing the object of your desire in all its glory.

His dick springs free, a tantalizing sight that never fails to ignite desire within you. You revel in its presence, appreciating its length and girth, knowing how perfectly it fits you and the pleasure it promises. In this moment, with his dick before you, you feel a surge of ownership and longing, your heart racing with a potent blend of love and lust, knowing that it’s now exclusively yours to enjoy.

You take hold of him, your fingers wrapping around his dick, and you give him a slow, deliberate stroke, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. Then, with a teasing smile dancing on your lips, you lower your head and flick your tongue across the sensitive tip, savoring the way he shudders with raw desire at your touch.

Your gaze meets his, a facade of innocence masking the minx within, especially when it comes to him. You lock eyes, finding his already lost in ecstasy, as you trail your tongue along his cock, savoring the way his breath catches and he bites down on his lower lip, unable to contain his desire.

“I want to hear you, Yoon. And I want you to fuck my mouth. I’ll let you know if it’s too rough, okay?” You don't wait for a response; his stunned silence tells you all you need to know.

You take him fully in your mouth in one smooth motion, your hand gripping the base of his shaft firmly.

You take him deep, your mouth accommodating his full length as you breathe rhythmically through your nose, ready to embark on your task. Working your mouth back and forth along his shaft, you elicit low, primal sounds from him. His fingers thread through your hair, anchoring you as you establish a steady, deliberate rhythm.

You ensure to maintain eye contact with him, locking gazes as you work your magic. His intense stare reflects his captivation with you, every movement you make drawing him deeper into the moment. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you create a vacuum, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation. He tightens his grip on your hair, emitting a primal hiss of pleasure, lost in the ecstasy you provide.

You take him deeper, pushing past the boundaries of your comfort to savor every inch of him. As he brushes against the back of your throat, you battle your gag reflex, determined to accommodate him fully. Finally, your nose nestles into his soft curls, and the heady scent of him envelops you. A primal moan escapes your lips, unleashing a torrent of arousal that courses through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire.

You maintain a steady rhythm, your lips and tongue caressing him with a practiced finesse. Yet, as your jaw begins to protest and your throat yearns for respite, you glance up at him, silently begging him to take control. Your eyes implore him, a silent plea for release, while a gentle tap on his thigh conveys your need for a change in pace.

“Damn,” he finally speaks, his voice hoarse with desire. Running a hand through his tousled black locks, he gazes at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so perfect like this,” he continues, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek. “With my cock in your mouth. Let me take over, babe.”

Relief washes over you as you relinquish control, allowing yourself a moment to simply savor the feeling of his dick between your lips, the weight of him against your tongue. It’s a welcome reprieve, a chance to lose yourself in the pure physicality of the moment.

With a firm grip on your hair, he sets a rhythm, each thrust pushing deeper into your eager mouth. Your jaw slackens, welcoming him eagerly as he moves with a primal urgency that ignites a fire within you. The intensity of his movements sends shivers down your spine— rough and fast.

Panting, he murmurs, “You in that lingerie set are really doing something to me,” his words punctuated by the force of his thrusts, each one harder and more desperate than the last.

Your eyes begin to water, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you love every second of it.

His breath comes in ragged pants as he locks eyes with you. “That suspender belt on your waist… you must be trying to kill me, because, fuck,” he groans. Sweat begins to form at his hairline, and the sight of his damp white shirt clinging to his skin makes him look utterly sinful.

“I want to fuck you wearing that so bad, babe,” he groans, his voice heavy with desire. You feel him twitch in your mouth and respond by suctioning your cheeks tighter around him, humming softly to intensify his pleasure.

It makes him shudder, and you can tell he’s close. Just a bit more, and you’ll have him spilling down your throat, you’re sure of it.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. I can’t hold back with you looking at me like that,” he groans, your name falling from his lips as he spills inside your mouth. Your hands grip his hips tighter, feeling him pulse as he thrusts a few more times, making sure you take every drop.

It tastes salty, just as always, but you savor it like a fine wine. When he finally pulls out, you make sure to show him your tongue, every drop swallowed, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your panties already soaked, the wetness likely trailing down your thighs.

“Yoongi, I love you,” you gasp, breathless, your hand brushing away the tears that had escaped while he fucked your mouth.

“I love you too,” he murmurs tenderly, his hand cradling your jaw before his fingers trace lightly over your lips. “Come on. Get up and get back on the bed.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine as you comply. Rising from your position on the floor, you crawl over to the bed and settle yourself down, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi steps out of his pants with fluid grace, tossing his shoes aside before shedding his blazer and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his naked form. You’re captivated by him, every inch of his body resonating with an irresistible allure. His skin, its familiar pale hue, speaks of hours spent indoors tinkering with cars, sculpting his lean physique with just a hint of muscle, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

As Yoongi draws near, he takes your feet in his hands, removing your heels with a gentle tug and allowing them to drop to the floor.

“What do you want, babe? I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with tender affection, awaiting your heart's deepest longing.

“I want to have your babies. Like we talked about. I want that future with you,” you confess, your voice trembling with anticipation, your body arching towards him, showing him just how wet you are, a silent invitation for him to claim you completely.

“Oh, babe. You know I want that too. It will be a moment before I’m ready to go again,” he murmurs, his hand moving to your leg, his touch sending shivers down your spine as his fingertips trace patterns of intimacy on your skin, making goosebumps appear.

“Just touch me. I want your hands all over my body, please, Yoon,” you plead, your eyes locking with his, your voice a soft melody of longing, your lip quivering as you await his touch.

He traces the map of your skin with a feather-light touch, igniting a trail of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. As his fingers dance closer to the apex of your pussy, you hold your breath, yearning for his touch, but he tantalizingly skirts past, teasingly exploring every inch of your being before finally reaching your breasts.

“Your boobs are so perky,” he murmurs, his touch tracing the delicate contours of your bra, coaxing your nipples to a tantalizing peak.

“No, they’re not,” you pout, feeling your pussy tighten and your body quiver in response to his touch.

“Don’t speak ill of your body. You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he gropes your breasts, his thumb tracing tantalizing circles around your nipples. Your heart races, torn between the desire for him to take you now and the intoxicating thrill of the teasing.

“And now you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice dipped in darkness and possessiveness, thick with lust, sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckle softly, a playful glint in your eyes. “I was yours long before we said ‘I do.’ Marriage didn’t change that, you know?”

He chuckles softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine, yet his eyes hold yours, intense and full of promise. “Oh, I know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your skin. “But now I have a piece of paper that says you’re mine and mine alone.”

You ask with a playful giggle, shifting closer into his touch. “Yoongi, are you possessive?” It’s more a statement than a question; you already know the answer. He’s likely the most possessive guy you’ve ever met, but it’s a quality you adore, one that ignites a wild, untamed energy within you.

“You know I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” he murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. The intensity in his eyes makes you wonder if he’s truly afraid of losing you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’ve loved him for so many years, most of them spent in denial, but they still count. His possessiveness only reassures you of the depth of his feelings, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You know I’d never leave you, right?” you whisper, your voice filled with unwavering devotion and the weight of all the years you’ve shared, your eyes searching his for the reassurance you know you don’t need but crave to give.

“Hmmm, yes I know. You love me and my big cock too much,” he laughs, glancing down as his dick twitches back to life.

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you roll your eyes, only to moan as he pinches your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “But I guess it’s okay when you can back it up.”

“And yes, I love you,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire. “Now show me why I can’t get enough of that big cock of yours. I’m so wet already, Yoongi. Touch me,” you plead, spreading your legs even wider, a desperate invitation for his touch.

He licks his lips, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Then get on your hands and knees and lift that gorgeous ass for me, love.”

You shudder, anticipation coursing through you as you turn around and lift your hips, presenting yourself just the way he likes.

His hands glide over the curve of your ass, sending shivers through your body. His fingers find the straps of your suspenders, tugging them taut before releasing them to snap back against your skin. The sharp slap makes you hiss in pleasure, each stinging contact like a playful spank that only fuels your arousal, leaving you wetter by the second.

He does it again, and this time, a needy moan escapes your lips, the sound of it echoing through the van and blending with the rhythmic patter of rain outside.

You feel his hard cock press against your ass, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. The thought of him entering you, filling you completely, drives you wild with desire. You crave it, crave him, more than anything.

He seizes the suspenders once more, pulling them taut, their snap against your skin echoing in the confined space of the van, a sharp punctuation to the electric tension between you.

Fuck. You’re probably dripping on the sheets now.

With precision, he adjusts his position behind you, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he shifts your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the curves of your ass before the tantalizing sensation of his dick against your folds sends shivers down your spine.

“Down,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, as he presses your back and head into the sheets with the firmness of his strong hand, igniting a primal thrill that courses through your veins.

You comply, sinking into the plush sheets, your anticipation mounting as you feel his cock teasing against your slick folds, yet he doesn’t yield to the sweet surrender of penetration.

With each powerful thrust, his hands firm on your hips, you feel the friction igniting a wildfire of need between you, his desire branding your skin with each passionate press.

“Fuck. You look so pretty in this. So sexy,” every movement sends ripples of pleasure through you, his words adding fuel to the fire of arousal burning within. His praise ignites a fierce longing, amplifying the intensity of every thrust against your folds, like he was fucking into you.

Desire courses through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought in its wake. The sensation of his fervent thrusts against your skin is intoxicating, yet beneath the surface, a primal yearning gnaws at your core, demanding to be sated with the ultimate union of your bodies.

Surging waves of pleasure crash over you, catching you off guard as your senses reel from the approaching climax. His name escapes your lips in ragged breaths, a fervent prayer whispered into the fabric of the sheets as ecstasy dances on the precipice of release.

As his tip brushes against your sensitive nub, a wave of ecstasy washes over you, eliciting a throaty moan of pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, the intensity of sensation sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve ending ignites with desire, leaving you breathless and craving more. Fuck. Why does it feel this good? The question lingers in your mind, lost amidst the whirlwind of bliss.

“Do you think you can come like this?” His voice is a sultry whisper, laden with anticipation, as he plunges deeper onto your pussy. With each forceful thrust against your throbbing clit and slick folds, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

You clamp down on your lip, fighting back the wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you completely.

Through a choked sob, you manage to gasp out a breathless affirmation, your voice trembling with anticipation and need. “Yes,” you confess, your admission punctuated by the primal rhythm of his thrusts, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

Every nerve in your body hums with a delicious tension, coiled tight like a spring ready to burst. With each electrifying touch, each tantalizing thrust, you teeter on the edge of oblivion, your senses ablaze with the promise of release. You’re on the brink, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, and you know it won’t take much more for him to send you spiraling into blissful chaos.

“I’m already close,” you gasp, your voice a breathless plea, heavy with need and desire.

That admission ignites a fire within Yoongi, prompting him to alter his rhythm, trading speed for slow deliberate, powerful thrusts.

Fuck! His cock now pounds against your clit with even more intensity, sending waves of exquisite sensation coursing through you. It’s almost unbearable. It feels fucking delicious and you can’t take it anymore.

The moment is so intense, and you cry out his name as pleasure washes over you, without his skilled fingers or tongue touching you. It’s mind-blowing.

“Good girl,” his words of praise rain down on you like a soothing melody, even as he continues his slower thrusts, allowing you to savor the waves of your orgasm that leave you trembling with desire.

“Fuck, Yoongi. That was amazing, I—,”

You’re cut off as Yoongi slowly eases his length into your entrance, the sensation of stretch mingling with pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. It’s intoxicatingly good, so utterly delicious, causing your fingers to clench around the sheets in a desperate grip.

“Fuck!” you pant, each inch he pushes in sending tremors of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending with a feverish intensity of lust.

“Shit, you’re always so tight. And taking me so well,” he praises you, his voice husky with desire as your body responds, your inner muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him.

When he’s finally fully in, you feel a rush of relief flood through you, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His hands roam your ass with a possessive hunger, seeking out the suspenders once more. As he pulls on them, the satisfying slap against your skin sends a jolt of delight through you, causing you to instinctively clench around him, eager for more.

“You really like that huh?” he chuckles, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire, “I do too. Seeing you like this, feeling you react to me—it’s intoxicating.”

“Yes! Just fuck me, Yoongi. I need you, I want you. Fill me up. Fuck me good and make me yours,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire, each word punctuated by the heat of the moment.

“What my wife wants, she’ll get. You can count on that, love. I’ll fuck you good, don’t worry,” he reassures you with a firm pat on your back before plunging into you with renewed intensity, his movements becoming faster and harder with each thrust.

You moan uncontrollably, the sound escaping you in a crescendo of pleasure, unabashedly indulging in the obscenity of your own desire as he drives you to the brink with his relentless and skillful thrusts.

As he strikes that tender spot deep within you, a surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering you utterly powerless to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, each thrust opening you up to a realm of bliss.

“Shit, I’m happy that I’ve already come, otherwise I’d be done for already,” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives himself deeper into you, each thrust a symphony of raw desire and primal need.

Your relief mirrors his own, knowing that this time together will stretch out deliciously, allowing you to savor every moment of his passion. The anticipation builds within you, a craving to witness every expression, every twitch of pleasure on his face.

“Yoongi, please, I wanna see your face while you fuck me,” you plead, yearning to lock eyes with him as he thrusts into you. You strain to turn your head, craving the connection, the intimacy of sharing this moment with him, body and soul.

He pauses, withdrawing his cock from you momentarily, his breaths heavy with anticipation. “Then flip over, love,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise, “Lie on your back, so I can see your face too as I make you mine.”

You comply, following his command eagerly, turning over and settling onto your back, legs parted invitingly. As he approaches, his dick in hand, slick with your essence, your anticipation heightens, every nerve alight with the promise of his touch.

“You look so gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he guides his cock back into your pussy, each inch a testament to the intensity of your connection. A soft moan escapes your lips, his name a melody of pleasure on your tongue, as you revel in the ecstasy of his touch.

In this intimate position, you relish the opportunity to witness his unraveling, to see every expression of pleasure etched across his face as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy. When he finally succumbs to the waves of climax, it’s a sight that steals your breath away, one of the best in this world.

As he fills you up to the brim, a surge of affection floods through you, reflected in the warmth of your smile. With deliberate patience, he establishes a rhythm that's both tender and intense, each deliberate movement igniting a firestorm of sensation within you. The tantalizing dance of his hips against yours is almost torturous in its exquisite pleasure.

“You’re so handsome, Yoon,” you praise him, your voice a breathless whisper. “The way you’re making love to me right now… Fuck, it’s so good, I love it.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a subtle sign that he might not last as long as he thinks he will. A smirk dances across your lips, silently daring him to prove you wrong.

He descends to kiss you, the connection between your lips deep and passionate, matching the rhythm of his slow thrusts. The intimacy of the moment envelops you, igniting a fiery passion within. As he trails down to your neck, his kisses turn into playful nibbles, then a light bite, accompanied by a low, guttural groan of pleasure.

As his movements become more erratic, you sense his dick twitching more, prompting you to inquire, “Are you getting close again, Yoon?”

His voice, husky and filled with desire, caresses your ear as he murmurs your name, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldering with lust. “Not yet,” he breathes, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes rove over your body as his hands follow suit, moving to your breasts. He tugs at the lace, pulling the cups and bra up to expose your bare skin, wanting to see you fully, unobstructed by the fabric.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

With a teasing pinch of your nipples, he makes you hiss his name in pleasure, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he rolls his hips into you.

He moves down again, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making you arch your back in delight. He swirls his tongue around the bud before sucking hard, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The knot in your stomach tightens, the sensation building rapidly. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge, almost ready to be pulled under, but not quite there yet.

“Fuck, Yoon. I’m so close,” you pant, your hands tangling in his black hair. You tug, making him release your nipple with a groan.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice dripping with desire and affection.

“Touch my clit,” you pant, desperate and so fucking close, craving his touch to push you over the edge and come around his cock.

Before he sits back up, he leans in to kiss you deeply, then his hand finds your clit, teasing it lightly before tugging at the swollen nub. As his dick hits your soft spot, the pleasure intensifies, and you know you’re on the brink of coming, seeing stars with every thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into your pussy. His fingers work your clit with vigor, perfectly synchronized with his thrusts. The light pressure on your clit is just right, deep enough to make you shudder, your toes curling in pure delight.

“Yoon!” you warn him, feeling your body tighten in response to his touch. Then, like a coiled spring released, you cream his cock, his fingers still swirling slow circles on your clit.

You pant for air, your body thrashing on the bed, but Yoongi, skilled and attentive, steadies you somewhat with his other hand.

“So pretty. You’re leaking,” Yoongi murmurs, his gaze fixed on the point where your bodies are joined. You sense his appreciation for the sight, the way his eyes trace the path of his cock disappearing into you. Damn, you love seeing it too, and his fascination with your joined bodies sends a thrill through you. You can only imagine the mesmerizing image below, your cum dripping out of you while he continues to fuck into you.

Your pussy pulsates around his dick, a rhythm of its own, coaxing a deep, primal sound from his lips as he spills his seed inside your warm, welcoming depths, filling you up with each pulse of his release.

“Shit, sorry,” he pants, his grip on your left leg tightening slightly as he adjusts his position, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, a grin spreading across your lips. “Don’t apologize for not warning me, Yoon. I don’t care. You can come where and whenever you want.” Your words are laced with desire, your voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

You pull him down into your chest, enveloping him in the warmth of your embrace, his head resting against the softness of your breasts, while you feel a mixture of yours and his liquid seep out of you.

Yoongi breathes hard, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion, his ear pressed against your chest, soaking in the comforting cadence of your heartbeat.

“Damn. It hit harder the second time. Caught me off guard,” he chuckles against your chest, his voice husky and tinged with fatigue, a testament to the intensity of your shared passion.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, your hands soothingly tracing patterns on his back, eliciting a shiver from him that resonates within you as you feel him twitch slightly inside your pussy.

You don’t want him to pull away from you yet, so you hold him close, relishing in the intoxicating blend of his musky and sweaty scent enveloping you.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For marrying me, for loving me,” you start, your voice heavy with emotion, tears brimming in your eyes, each word carrying the weight of years of pining, love from afar and all the moments you’ve shared with him.

He adjusts himself, his gaze locking with yours, “I should be the one thanking you. For loving me, for marrying me. For putting up with all my shit over the years.” His words carry a mix of gratitude and sincerity, a testament to the depth of his appreciation for your unwavering support and enduring love.

You chuckle softly, your eyes shimmering with affection. “Thank you for making today magical. With the twinkling lights and all the little surprises you had in store. You truly are the sweetest.” Your words are tender, carrying a warmth that reflects the depth of your appreciation for his thoughtfulness and effort.

With a soft smile, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of his love and gratitude.

As he draws back, his gaze sparkles with boundless affection, warming your heart and coaxing a smile from your lips in response.

“Where will our adventure take us for our honeymoon?” you inquire, drawing him close for another tender kiss, eager to embark on this new journey together.

“I’ve already booked it. You’ll wait and see, it’s a surprise” he declares with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. You’re left wondering if it’s a tropical paradise with sandy beaches or a lush, verdant haven tucked away in nature’s embrace.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

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