#a great mix of sex and violence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshifighting · 8 days

Text

— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out.

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall.

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed.

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat.

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly.

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows.

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space.

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough.

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second.

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning.

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath.

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.”

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke.

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched. Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it.

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?”

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him.

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling.

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control.

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate.

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red.

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

“Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased.

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

964 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

Text

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin.

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured.

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem.

— What are you doing here?

Ah.

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad.

— Can’t you talk?

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk.

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say.

— What is that?

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner.

— I’m not…that.

— I can see.

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water.

Hm.

Is it supposed to be this big?

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen.

— Why?

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake.

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men?

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order?

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky.

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either.

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that.

— Are you cold?

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me.

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How?

— Do you have a husband?

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them.

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja?

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan.

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt?

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube.

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird.

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you.

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling.

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control.

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek.

— Are you going to leave soon?

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you.

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this.

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important.

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig x you #konig cod #cod konig #yandere x you #yandere x reader

2K notes · View notes

matthewfuckinggraygubler · 17 days

Text

You`re the one that I want || Spencer Reid + 18

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader · Category: Smut · Warning: Angst, Dom, Sex, Happy ending. · Words: 2340 · Summary : Spencer and you have been building tension for a long time, and it finally breaks in a primal way. · Inspiration: Grease's song "You're the One That I Want" and the BRUTAL car scene from Deadpool & Wolverine. 😏

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind!

· Masterlist

You had been building up tension for months, trapped in a push and pull of feelings that neither of you could face. That tension, once imperceptible, now manifested in every word, every gesture. What were once shared jokes had turned into venomous barbs, little attacks that slipped in between the daily grind. Any excuse was enough to throw a biting comment or start an argument.

Your UAC colleagues had noticed. They’d tried to mediate, though without getting too involved. But the friction between you only seemed to grow, and nothing—neither words nor warning looks from the others—could calm the storm brewing between the two of you.

The final straw was a trivial argument in the kitchen. You, holding a cup of coffee in your hand, and him, entering carelessly.

"Be careful! You'll spill the coffee," you shouted, trying not to spill the liquid on your clothes.

"Shouldn't you watch where you're going? Maybe that way you'd avoid accidents," he replied with a tone so sharp it made you snap. He walked in to get his coffee, completely ignoring you.

The biting response slipped out before you could stop it. "Oh, sure. Any other orders from the great doctor today?"

"For God's sake, drop that tone. You sound like a 15-year-old," he snapped.

You couldn't resist. "Speaking of kids, when are you going to do something with that haircut? I don't know, something that doesn't look like a rebellious teenager's."

His gaze darkened, fury evident in his eyes. "Shut up," he said, his voice low and sharp like a threat.

"What's the matter? Does the truth hurt?" you pushed, taking it beyond the limit.

"I said shut up!" The tone he'd used was something you'd never heard before, loaded with anger and frustration. For a moment, you fell silent, surprised by the violence in his voice. You felt your face darken as you walked away, unable to continue the conversation.

The next day, the doorbell rang while you were sprawled on the couch, enjoying a quiet Saturday. You weren’t expecting anyone. When you opened the door and saw Spencer, you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. His face was tense, serious, as if something was eating away at him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not bothering to hide your reluctance.

“I want to talk… apologize for yesterday,” he said in a flat voice.

You let him in, but the awkwardness in the air was palpable. The apology was quick and direct, but it didn’t take long before you both fell into another argument.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he asked, his tone laced with insinuations.

“Excuse me?” you replied with a cynical laugh, as if the very suggestion that you should apologize was absurd.

After a scoff, the tension built until it exploded. Frustrated by your attitude, Spencer turned to leave. But before he could take a step, you grabbed him by the elbow, tugging on his jacket.

“Is this your solution to everything? Run away when things get tough?” you yelled, the heat of anger mixing with something deeper.

He turned abruptly, and before you could react, his hand closed tightly around your wrist, lifting it above your head. His body was so close you could feel his ragged breath against your skin.

“Let go of me…” you whispered, but it wasn’t a plea. It was a warning. Your words trembled, not out of fear, but from the intensity of the moment. Yet Spencer didn’t move, his eyes locked onto yours, challenging you, trying to assert his control.

The air thickened, filled with more than just anger. The struggle for dominance was no longer just verbal.

“Let go of me!” you shouted again, but this time your voice was charged with a fury you hadn’t felt before. With all your strength, you shoved him, making him stumble back a few steps. His gaze burned with a mix of surprise and rage, and in that moment, you knew the fight had only just begun. Before you could move, Spencer grabbed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your waist as he lifted you effortlessly and shoved you against the wall. The impact was brutal, knocking the air from your lungs, but the only thing that mattered was that explosive proximity.

He didn’t give you a second to recover. His lips crashed against yours, not seeking a kiss, but something much wilder. It was a clash of teeth, of ragged breaths and desperate hands trying to pin each other down. Trying to grab each other’s wrists, to stop the other’s movement. You both gasped, the clash between your bodies awakening something more primal than simple anger. You tried to push him away, but he was faster, his hands now gripping your hips, pulling you closer. The feel of his body against yours ignited a fire you couldn’t control. His fingers slid up your back with wild intensity, as if he was claiming you in the most physical way possible. You bit his lower lip, almost in anger, and his response was a low growl that rumbled in your chest, making you shudder.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against your mouth, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and pure desire as his hands began exploring your body without any gentleness. It wasn’t an act of tenderness but a battle for control.

“Shut up,” you hissed, shoving his chest with both hands. Getting space between the two of you was nearly impossible, but still, you kept trying. The friction between your bodies was unbearable, almost painful, but you refused to be the first to give in.

Without warning, you threw a punch at his side, not with all your strength, but enough to make him gasp, giving you a brief moment to free yourself. But he responded with the same intensity, catching you before you could get away, gripping your wrists and lifting you with a single movement, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. The cold wall behind you contrasted with the unbearable heat of his body pressed against yours.

“You’re too damn proud,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his warm breath brushing against your neck before biting your skin at its most sensitive spot with a force that made you let out an involuntary moan.

You tried to push him away again, but it was impossible. His hands were already under your shirt, yanking it up until he tore it off you. The cold air hitting your bare skin made you shiver, but it wasn’t that that took your breath away—it was the way his fingers dug into your hips, holding you like he wasn’t going to let you move an inch without his permission.

With one swift motion, he lowered you to the floor, but he didn’t give you a chance to get away. He shoved you towards the couch, and before you could react, he had you pinned on your back. You writhed beneath him, your hands scratching at his back, trying to regain some control, but everything was falling apart in that wild battle between desire and rage. You pushed against him, trying to change positions, seeking control, but he wasn’t going to give in so easily. Both your hands were tangled in a constant struggle, alternating between shoves and desperate caresses. It was a fight you both were enjoying and needed more than you wanted to admit.

You yanked his hair, forcing him to look at you as you leaned forward, biting his jaw with an almost animalistic violence, desperate for the passion that was starting to replace the anger. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back, exposing your neck as his mouth traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made you gasp. Something had shifted. It was no longer just about a power struggle; passion had taken control. He stood up and lifted you to straddle him, carrying you to the bedroom.

On the way, you frantically tore off his shirt, and your mouths were at war, fighting for dominance over each other’s tongues while one of his hands grabbed your ass and the other clawed at your back. Your hands, on the other hand, tangled in his hair, pulling savagely, helping to steady yourself with each clumsy bump on the way to the next battlefield: the bed.

When you arrived, he threw you onto the mattress, dropping onto you, but you skillfully flipped him over on the bed, using your weight to get on top of him, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. "Don’t think you’re going to dominate me," you whispered with a defiant smile, but Spencer wasn’t the type to stay still. With a single move, he grabbed your hips and shoved you forward, forcing you to lean over him.

His hands were everywhere. His mouth, brutally insistent, traveled over every part of your skin it could reach, leaving red marks in its wake. The heat between your bodies was suffocating, the tension so palpable it seemed like something was about to explode at any moment. You scratched his chest, biting his shoulders, each slap of skin against skin pulling out grunts and ragged breaths.

"What’s the matter? Don’t like losing?" he murmured, with a dark smile, almost taunting. His face was inches from yours, his eyes burning with that mix of rage and desire that ignited you in a way you’d never admit.

Without thinking, you broke free of his hands just enough to push his face to the side, trying to push him away and, above all, deny him what he wanted—you. But he just chuckled darkly, provoking you even more. That infuriated you. With a growl, you pushed away and kicked him off the bed while trying awkwardly to regain control of the situation, forcing him back just enough to free yourself and sit up.

With a playful snort at your performance, he lunged at you, pinning you to the mattress without giving you a chance to react. His hands gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him with almost brutal force, your breathing was out of control, and your heartbeat raced. There were no more preliminaries, no gentle or considerate gestures, just an unrestrained need to satisfy the hunger that had been simmering for months. You both fought for control, biting each other’s lips, mixing moans and growls between each stolen breath. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling without mercy, while he responded by thrusting harder with his hips in an attempt to ease his desire, making you gasp helplessly.

"You're unbearable," you whispered, your voice loaded with defiance and need. You said, finishing undressing him desperately, wanting to feel every part of his body.

“Fuck, you turn me on so much,” he confessed, his tone dripping with that dark intensity that only fueled the fire between you two.

In a moment, both of you were completely naked. There was practically nothing left but pleasure, he spread your legs with his knee, and with a clouded mind, he made you his. Every thrust was a violent clash of bodies, a constant struggle to see who had control. Your nails dug into his back, leaving deep marks, while he gripped your hips, dragging you toward him with a force that ripped screams and muffled moans from you.

"You... won’t... win... this," you panted between ragged breaths, your words defiant even as your body trembled beneath his.

"I’ve already won..." he moaned, his voice hoarse, laden with pleasure and fury. There was no room for anything else, just the relentless rhythm, the creaking of the bed beneath you, and the sound of bruised and sweaty skin colliding in an all-out battle.

Your hands, still gripping the sheets, tried to find some kind of advantage, and in a burst of defiance, you grabbed his neck, pulling him toward you to bite his shoulder. He responded by thrusting harder, pulling a mixture of moans and growls from you that filled the room. You suddenly shifted, taking advantage of his confidence to reverse the position, leaving you on top of him, your body pressing against his as he pushed from below. You leaned forward, scratching his chest with a dark smile, your lips descending on his skin in kisses and bites that drew deep sighs from him.

But Spencer didn’t give up, and he had to reassert himself one last time. With a quick movement, he caught you again, flipping you over so that your back was against the bed, your body arching under his as he gripped your hips tightly. There were no more words, only the sound of your bodies colliding, the shared panting, and the rough whisper of your name on his lips.

"Fuck… I’m gonna..." he moaned, which drove you wild.

The climax was as violent as the battle you had waged. A point of no return where control was completely lost. You screamed his name between moans and gasps, your body trembling beneath his as he sank deeper, letting out one final growl before collapsing on top of you, exhausted.

Finally, you both collapsed, breathing heavily, your bodies still trembling from the wild energy that had defined every second of the night, leaving only the absolute exhaustion that made it clear this wouldn’t be the last time. Suddenly, there was no anger, no rage. All the tension of months had been settled. You looked at each other with soft smiles as you tried to catch your breath.

"I won," you said with a smile, calm after the ecstasy.

Spencer snorted in amusement. "Fine, yeah… okay, you won. Will you grant me a rematch...?" he smiled, exhausted.

· Requests via DM ·

280 notes · View notes

bratbby333 · 4 months

Note

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end.

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto.

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day.

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it.

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair.

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy.

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all.

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm.

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together.

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin.

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately.

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night.

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender.

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another.

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away.

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours.

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles.

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that.

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone.

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table.

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact.

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight.

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club.

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head.

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step.

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you.

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by.

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening.

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening.

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never.

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more.

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm. His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can.

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples.

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs.

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall.

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet.

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

my reqs are closed atm, but thirsts + chats are welcome! come say hello ☺️

tag list: @admirxation @sadmonke @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @call-memissbrightside (lmk if u want to be removed from tags🤍)

#—written by jade 🌿#support banner from benkeibear #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #bratbby333

796 notes · View notes

juletheghoul · 2 months

Text

distraction

a/n: I'm as shocked as you probably are with posting a full chapter today, along with a pretty extensive ask on Friday but here we are. I don't know why this character has inspired such devotion and creativity in me but I am not going to question it. This might be the most toxic chapter yet lol and If you aren't into it. no hard feelings! This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a light in a pretty rough week, and for listening to all of my rants and tangents. Love you girlie! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, gladiatorial violence, exhibitionism, Marcus being a possessive, jealous mess, creampie, heavily leaning into the ownership aspect of their 'relationship', master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.7k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

The sun rose, much like it did on every other day, and you rose with it.

With a yawn and a stretch you dressed, cursing at the way your tunic tattered at the seams. You’d have to mend it later, you made a mental note to remember as you rushed to start on your chores for the day.

You found him splashing water from the jug and basin in his room, and moved quickly and quietly to help him dress for the day ahead. Silently he moved throughout the room, letting you adjust his clothes so they looked their best, he let you push his hair into place and to take the basin to be emptied while he made his way to his study. The sun was still high in the sky when the messenger came for him, bringing him the invitation from the Emperor himself to oversee the gladiatorial games in honour of his victory. His brow furrowed at the news, he would be in the pulvinus with the Emperor along with other Romans of proper birth.

He didn’t take the news well, to him it was a folly. He had absolutely no wish to be celebrated, as far as he was concerned, his march into the city had been more than enough but he could not deny the invitation. So with a clench in his jaw and a number of frustrated sighs, he accepted, and set about making the preparations.

The day of the games came and as his constant shadow, you followed to see to his needs and to pour for him. It was difficult to keep the excitement in check, every so often you’d glance down to your new tunic, bright white with details of gold to match your Dominus. Despite your many years of service, none of the people you’d served before had ever brought you to the arena, let alone in the presence of the Emperor, or in such a high seat as the pulvinus. Your march through the city towards the Colosseum was filled with cheers and the screams of people clamoring to see the General of the Roman army up close.

He did his duty, waved and smiled for their benefit despite his great discomfort, and you did your duty as well–kept your head down, and your attention on him.

The pulvinus was blessedly covered by rich fabrics, shielding the esteemed guests and slaves alike from the unforgiving rays of the sun. With his cup full, and his attention with the Emperor, you used the moment of reprieve to take in the sights. The opening games had come and gone and now the main event was to start. The gladiators filed out and took their place, awaiting the words that would set them on their path of violence.

They were a mixed batch of fighters, all of them fearsome in their own way. There was a small, stocky one, his face was all anger and his arms were covered in scars. There was one that towered over them all, his arms and legs long enough to keep anyone from getting too close. There were twins, both of them smiling for the crowd, clearly favoured from the cheers they inspired. There was another, and he was the one that drew your eye. His hair was black as coal with eyes to match and although on the leaner side, the strength in his limbs was obvious. His sword hand flexed at the hilt and you watched him twirl the weapon, test its weight before he looked up to the pulvinus, in truth he reminded you of your Dominus; twenty years younger.

He smiled up in your direction and your stomach twisted, for a moment you imagined your Dominus down in the sand, fighting for the crowd and it thrilled you. You imagined meeting him as a younger man, what he might have been like, what might he think of you?

“Girl.” His voice cut through your musing, his cup outstretched and you stumbled for only a heartbeat, imperceptible to anyone but him. His eyes tracked what had distracted you, and found the young Gladiator smiling still, and said nothing. His mood soured though and at once you chastised yourself for letting the arena distract you.

Marcus introduced the main games, the Primus, and he did so without flair, without embellishment but it mattered not, the people screamed and the men before you fought for their lives against a myriad of challengers. You kept your eye on your Dominus, on his cup but the young gladiator –Varus– kept drawing your attention, he looked so like your General that you idly wondered if he could be his son, could he have fathered him during his younger years? It was known to happen, did he see the resemblance? Did anyone?

Varus is relentless, and despite making sure your Dominus’ needs are met your eyes track him, enraptured. It is difficult to be sure who it is he smiles at when he glances up in your direction, it is most likely the high-born Roman women. His skill is undeniable, and again your thoughts drift to a younger, wilder Marcus, would your general have given you those smiles so brazenly at that age?

“He does like to put on a show does he not?” One of the high born ladies remarks and you cannot help but watch as Varus laughs, cutting down those who challenge him with ease, even as some of his brothers fall. “Look how he smiles, he is of a form today.” They giggle between themselves as he points his sword in tribute towards them, or you, or the Emperor, it is hard to tell.

“He definitely draws the eye.” Marcus speaks, agreeing with them, but you hear his displeasure and when you meet his eyes they are already focused on you. Your stomach drops at the look of displeasure on his face, your momentary lapse had not been taken lightly. Heat and embarrassment fill you to the brim and from then on your eyes find themselves downcast. “More wine, girl.” His tone is colder than you’ve ever heard it, enough to set your nerves alight.

“Yes Dominus.” Your tone, in turn, is demure and humble and you pray to the Gods that you get through the games without embarrassing him further.

Varus and the twins stand victorious, and the crowd loves them for it, enough to shake the ground with their cheers but you keep your head down. With your error, you expected Marcus to excuse himself and make his way home once the games were over but it wasn’t to be. The Emperor had arranged for his guests to exchange words with the victors, and so down into the sand you went, following where your Dominus went on shaky legs.

Up close, Varus was taller than your General, but not by much. He was strong, and lean, and covered in blood and gore, it did nothing to take away from his allure. It didn’t seem to bother him, if anything, it only made him more appealing. The resemblance was there, not as close as you’d imagined but there was something there, in the profile, in the gaze, he was a handsome man, but no one held a candle to Marcus in your eyes.

The Emperor bestowed words of congratulations, and they bowed dutifully. Varus smiled, boldly, unbothered by the ire of your Dominus, his eyes wandered and when they found you they raked over your form unabashedly. He drank in the sight of your thighs through the slit in your tunic, in the curve of your neck and although you had no real interest in this man, you couldn’t help but fidget.

Your Dominus clenched his jaw, but offered his good will all the same, albeit in a curt manner and once the pleasantries were exchanged, you were blessedly away from the arena, and off towards the villa once more. He’s eerily quiet on the trek back home, even for him and although he’s usually quite forgiving despite his gruff exterior, you pray to the Gods that you haven’t offended him past the point of return. His horse whinnies underneath him while you and his personal guard follow behind, and all at once he is off his horse and handing off the reins.

“Come girl, I have business here.” He barely looks at you, but you rush to follow where he leads, down a quiet street away from the chaos of the day. You have to take two steps for every one of his in order to stay close. You take it as a good sign, that he calls on you to attend to him after the business in the pulvinus, and you steel yourself to serve to the best of your ability in whatever possible way he may need. He winds through different alleys and it takes a moment for you to wonder idly just where exactly he needs to go before you find yourself pressed up against the wall.

“Have you grown tired of your Dominus?” His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you up against the wall. Not tight enough to cut off your breath, but tight enough to make you stand on the tips of your toes. His eyes were cold as frost, but there was passion laced through his words as well as rage.

“No Dominus–”

“Do. Not. Lie.” His grip tightened for only a second, “Do you think me blind, girl? I saw the way you watched Varus.” The gladiator's name was a curse and for a moment you frowned at him, was this jealousy?

“Dominus, I could never, I was merely distracted–” You brought your hands up, trying vainly to soothe him with gentle touch but the anger burned hot within him, and he stepped closer, kicking your legs apart to press his knee between them.

“Yes, distracted by him, he caught your eye. Do you desire him?” You felt your heart racing, thumping against his palm at your throat, “Tell me girl, have you forgotten that you belong to me? Do you wish to belong to another?”

“No Dominus! Only you, I–I could not help but notice Varus–” His jaw clenched at the sound of the other man's name upon your tongue. “Because, because he resembled you, Dominus.”

His anger faltered for a moment, but the frown remained, and so you continued.

“He looked so like you Dominus, and I couldn’t help but imagine you at that age, fighting and smiling at me. I do not desire anyone else, I do not wish to belong to anyone else.” You brought your hands up, tentatively placing one upon his at your throat, and the other on his chest.

“Did that excite you? Do you wish me to be younger?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes then, obscured by anger but shining through all the same and had he been anyone else, you might have laughed at the absurdity of his complex.

“It only excited me, to imagine you smiling at me, fighting for me Dominus. I do not wish you to be any other way.” Your hands moved in tandem, one stroking at his arm softly, the other sliding down his chest, towards where his passion grew and pressed against your hip. “Look into my eyes and see the truth in my words, I belong to you, mind, body and soul, only you.” His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Can you not see how much I desire you? How my heart beats only to the tune of your pleasure?” He isn’t unaffected by your words, you see him drink them down like a fine wine, and he sighs heavily at the feel of your palm on his manhood. “Take me, here and now Dominus, my want for you drips onto my thighs.”

His eyes close and a heavy breath escapes his lips and you see your chance, you see the tiny fracture in his armor. “May I have your mouth Dominus?” You pulled him closer, while guiding his free hand to the Elysian fields between your legs. His fingers slipped under your coverings and found you wet and wanting and all at once his violence is coloured with passion instead of anger.

“You will never belong to another, do you understand me girl?” Frantically he pulls at your tunic, moving it up, and pulling the neck down to bare your breasts to him, uncaring of the people who happen by.

“You are mine, all of you, is mine.” His mouth pressed to yours roughly, stealing the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fumbled at his robes, joining in his madness and releasing his cock. He doesn’t let you touch it however, instead he turns you around and pulls your hips out. You hear him spit into his hand before lining himself up at the mouth of your sex, barely giving you a moment before burying himself to the hilt.

You can’t help but moan and hold onto his arms, the grit of the wall pressed up against your face. His hand wrapped around your throat once more, holding you still while his hips drove forward, filling you over and over without respite, his other hand found your breast and held it tight, fanning the flames of your arousal for him.

“This cunt—“ his mouth pressed against your ear, breathing harshly with the force of his exertion, “is mine, mine alone.” The moan clawed its way out from your throat, that he would be this affected by a simple glance should have scared you, but it didn’t. It only made your arousal flow like seawater.

Your cunt was the altar of his devotion, and his prayers were violent.

“Yes Dominus, yours alone.” You pushed back, turning your face as best you could to look him in the eye and his expression pulled another sound from your throat. He was enraptured, eyes blown black and mouth slack as his hips drilled, bouncing against the plump flesh of your backside. “I want to look at you Dominus, I want your mouth–” He groaned, pulling out quickly to turn you back around and within a breath he had one of your legs wrapped around his hip, his hand holding it at the knee, and his cock buried deep. His other hand held you firm by the throat.

“Tell me girl, tell me you’re mine, only mine.” There was a desperation in his voice that pulled at something within you, something tender despite his brusque movements.

“I’m yours Dominus, I belong to you–” You threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him close to you, your grip tight and he moaned, unabashedly, “I only ever want to be yours.”

His eyes close before his lips have found yours, and you feel the way his pace stutters, he is close and all at once you need to feel him spill inside, his need to stake his claim burning you up like a fever. You move one hand down to your sex, to the swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, and with the other, you hold his hand to your throat.

“Please Dominus, please fill me with your gift.” You moan the words out, and smile at the way he grinds himself deep with a low groan. The coil in your belly snaps as you feel him spill inside, and your flutters make him hiss, his mouth surging forward to claim yours hard enough to hurt but it matters not. Your heart and cunt are full with him just as it should be.

His breath comes in pants as he removes his hand from your neck, and your breath hitches when he brushes his lips against your skin in silent apology. You know the moment will pass, and that soon, his mood will change and this interlude will end, as all interludes must but you seize the moment anyway, and pull his face up to meet his eyes.

“I speak truth Dominus, my heart fills with joy to be yours.” Softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close, for a moment you are worried that as his blood cools, so does his passion for you but he proves you wrong, and lets you kiss him. More than that, he keeps kissing you as he set your robes to right with gentle hands before pulling out with a hiss. He does not respond, there is no need to, his eyes speak for him.

Within a few heartbeats, the look is gone and his usual mask is back in place.

“Come girl, let us away.”

“Yes Dominus.”

—

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x y/n #general Marcus #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #general acacius #gladiator 2 fanfiction

372 notes · View notes

buddierecs · 2 months

Text

infidelity buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :) (also i don't condone cheating/infidelity, but i am eating these fics up oops.)

three strikes and you're out by: eightpackdiaz "buck's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend chooses to ignore him every time the kiss cam points in their direction. eddie does the opposite" word count: 3.1k rating: teen and up important tags: cheating, tommy kinard bashing, kiss cam, jealous!eddie diaz, first kiss, getting together i slept with someone from 118 and all i got was a broken nose (eddie diaz can't relate) by: sterrenhemel ".....still, he punches tommy square in the fucking nose." word count: 4.4k rating: general audience important tags: non-graphic violence, cheating, protective!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, chronic pain, getting together, first kiss counting pulses by: tinydancerr "eddie diaz’s life is going great. he’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him. now his best friend is dating their new friend. things are going great. he promises." word count: 63k rating: teen and up important tags: eddie diaz centric, catholic guilt, ocd, co-parenting, emotional infidelity, therapy, slow burn, jealous!eddie diaz something touched me (like a knife-blade) by: kithmet "eddie self-implodes. christopher, seeking refuge, flees to buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (oh, and tommy’s there too. he thinks.)" word count: 42k rating: explicit important tags: co-parenting, emotional infidelity, possessive behaviour, sexuality crisis, mutual pining, getting together, anal sex, masturbation what if i can't have us by: woodchoc_magnum "in which eddie is dating marisol; buck's dating tommy, and eddie has feelings about that, which he simply does. not. understand." word count: 47k rating: explicit important tags: emotional infidelity, mutual pining, catholic guilt, getting together, team as family, eventual smut oopsie daisy (never knew that was your boo, baby) by: ameliahart "five times Buck cheats on Tommy with Eddie, and one time he doesn't." word count: 5.4k rating: explicit important tags: 5+1 things, cheating, sneaking around, sexting, blow jobs, anal sex, getting together mixed messages by: coldbam "eddie accidentally receives a text meant for buck's boyfriend." word count: 2.6k rating: explicit important tags: cheating, phone sex, sexting, getting together, love confessions how could you not know (all this time) by: deadsapphicssociety "in which the 118 holds a movie night for chris's school, buck's boyfriend is a flaky loser, bobby knows too much, and eddie suffers. greatly." word count: 5.7k rating: mature important tags: cheating, pining, making out, hand holding, frottage, tommy kinard bashing nothing wrong with me loving you by: cranberrymoons "buck and eddie watch red white and royal blue together; one thing leads to another (aka: the sexting fic)" word count: 4.4k rating: explicit important tags: cheating, sexing, dick pics, masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub undertones no place like by: clytemnestra "buck and eddie and the many paths home." word count: 51k rating: explicit important tags: cheating, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, getting together, love confessions drink up (you're wasted on me) by: okanus "eddie and buck hook up at the bachelor party. difficulties ensue." word count: 9.5k rating: explicit important tags: cheating, flirting, sexual tension, drunk sex, hand jobs, possessive!eddie diaz, jealous!eddie diaz, praise kink mask over my eyes and arrow through the heart by: youbetsya "buck is getting married. he is." word count: 35k rating: explicit important tags: emotional infidelity, angst, idiots in love, coming out, jealous!eddie diaz, hand jobs, blow jobs, come eating

#buck x eddie fic #buck x eddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fics #911 abc #buddie fic rec #911 show #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #buddie 911 #buck x eddie fanfics #buck x eddie smut #buddie smut #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs

178 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 9 months

Note

omg yes for the Ghost fic request you can do prompt 3 instead that would be great, thank you. some angst with a happy ending please

Sure thing dude, sorry this took so long, but a happy xmas to you lol My hyperfixation hyperfixated on this so it's a bit long and expositiony but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

CW: NSFW, subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, angst, misunderstandings, gentle sex, making up kinda, confessions, fwb turned lovers, idiots in love,

Simon's apartment is a picture of painful domesticity; your muddy boots sit neatly next to his by the door, two mugs set next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes left on the sink only a foot away from different shower products that have long since mixed together into one giant pile, and a dozen more little things that tell anyone with a cursory glance — 'yeah, two people live here'.

When people wonder why you practically live together when you're just casual, you both just say it's convenient (and ignore how fake your answers sound).

After all; Why leave after he's ridden you to both of your completions when you can just settle on the couch and share a drink over a movie? Why should you waste money on a cab to get back to your own flat when you two can just tumble into bed? Why should Simon wake up to an empty and cold flat when he can do so in your arms, your steady heartbeat remind him you're both alive? Why leave in the morning and miss one of the few times Simon's fully relaxed when you can have a lazy morning, laying in bed and enjoying each other's company until the sun's high in the sky?

Why leave at all?

. . . Simon treasures every moment with you as much as he hates it, every second in your presence like a pretty hummingbird singing sweetly in his ear while it drills holes into his skull. Absolute Hell. Utter bliss.

He knows he doesn't deserve you. Knows you don't deserve to have a living corpse crawl back into your arms every night, nothing but a stranger with Simon's face. But you two have known each other so long it's impossible to let you go.

You met as toddlers when you'd nicked his toy, refusing to give it back until he agreed to play with you, and you've been stuck at the hip since. You two were each other's first kiss, fumbling behind the school bleachers, eager and sloppy like inexperienced lads are. First set of blooming hickeys along his collarbones, Simon's ma giving him a knowing look when she'd noticed it amongst the other bruises her no good husband had left on him. First fuck, quick and rough in a dark janitor closet during basic training, burning with need and heat. First—

. . . Simon doesn't know when the word 'Love' first registered in his brain. Maybe when you tore up heaven and hell looking for him. Maybe when you stuck by him when he did his best to scare you off, all rough words and teeth, unable to form one nice word when violence and revenge was all that was left in his head.

He doesn't know when he registered the word. Only that he looks at you whenever you do something mundane and thinks 'yeah. Love. That fits.'

But love has no place in. . . whatever this is. Hell, he's the one who'd set the ground rule when you two were young and dumb, reaffirming it after he'd come back as Ghost. And you'd never fought against it, agreeing to just be fucking casual, there's no way you want anything more than this. He doesn't want to cock it up, doesn't want to take more from you than he's already done, so he swallows all he feels and ignores how it burns his throat, going day by day like nothing's changed.

He wakes in your arms, deeply ingrained training waking him before dawn but the heat of your body keeps him rooted in place. Distantly he can still feel the cold tight confines of that coffin, of maggots wriggling on his skin, but memories of that nightmare float away before his traitorous mind can latch on to them. He lays in bed, head firmly on your chest so he can hear you, see you breathe. Morning comes too soon and you rouse awake, laying a sweet kiss on his forehead before getting out of bed to set the kettle on.

It's domestic.

It's painful.

. . .

You love how Simon looks. You especially love how he looks in his civies, freed of his armor and no longer needing to be guarded at all times, shoulders relaxed and mindlessly looking around as you talk while you browse the store. He's still gruff, and sarcastic, but you love that about him. You loved him long before he said not to tangle emotions in your meaningless bliss and long after he'd come back as Ghost, each unknown scar on his body taking a chip out of your heart.

And you respect his choice. You'll take what you can get and won't give it up even after your corpse has grown cold, hoping that will be enough to drown out the neediness of your heart. You lost him once and it had nearly killed you, you can't lose him again. . .

God, you're pathetic for him.

You meet miss Betty on your way back from the shop. She's your neighbor a few doors down, a sweet old lady who waters your plants when you and Simon are called back into action. You see her struggling with her bags so you hand your own to Simon so you can help her, "Hold this, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely." Simon huffs, but takes the bag without further complaint, walking behind you as you help miss Betty with her shopping, content to listen to you two talk about who knows what. It still amazes him how you've managed to charm all the neighbors Simon rarely spoke to.

"Oh, thank you deary." Miss Betty says as you put her shopping next to her door, holding onto your arm for support. "It's so nice to have a helpful person around here."

"It's not a problem ma'am." You say with a small smile, and fuck if Simon's heart doesn't beat a bit faster at the sight.

"You know," Miss Betty begins. "My grandson's been eyeing you up. And I can see why, you're such a strapping young man."

You feel Simon's gaze fall on you like a dagger, cold, hard, expectant. You try to think of what to say but your words fail you, because while you and Simon aren't in a relationship you can't picture yourself be with anyone else. "I-"

"Oh don't worry deary, I told him he was barking up the wrong tree." Miss Betty cuts you off by giggling like a school girl, "I wouldn't want to separate you two love birds."

The words burning on your tongue escape you before you can filter them. "Yeah, I doubt I could love anyone other than Simon." You clear your throat after, feeling his eyes on you.

Miss Betty just coos. "Oh, to be young and in love." Then she turns, waving her walking stick at Simon like he's an annoying pigeon that flew into her house. "You better treat him properly you big oaf, he's good for you."

Oh, Simon knows. Knows you're too good for him. But all he lets out is a small grunt, and you can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.

You don't think of what you say next, so far away from a warzone your defenses are lowered. "No need to worry ma'am, he's the love of my life and I can assure you he treats me very well."

There's that word again, and the way it leaves your lips has Simon's heart skipping a beat. Fuck, Simon wants to hear you say it until he's deaf. Wants to hold your jaw closed so you don't speak again and stop making him feel this. Wants to pull you close and throw you out of the window at the same time. Wants— . . . he doesn't know what he wants.

"Oh, well I won't hold you up any more dears." Miss Betty says, patting you on the arm before shuffling back to her apartment with her shopping.

There's an uncomfortable silence between you two while you get back to Simon's flat, neither one of you sure what to say about the damn elephant in the room. You take the bags you'd given him, your back to him as you put them on the counter.

Acting like nothing's wrong. Nothing's changed.

But it has.

"An' you say my heart's rotten." Simon grunts, gruff and harsh, too many thoughts brewing in his head to properly say what he's thinking.

You turn to him, surprise obvious on your face. "What?"

"Lyin' to old ladies." His jaw is tense behind his face mask, which you note he hadn't taken off when the front door had closed, back to being guarded around you, something between Simon and Ghost. "Granted, it was convincing. What, did you take some creative writing lessons from Laswell?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, then you feel your jaw tense as well. "Christ, Simon, what are you on about?" You growl, stomping over to him.

His shoulders tense as you approach, but the scent of your cologne calms his body without his mind's input. "Can't love anyone but me?" He asks, something cold and slimy settling in your stomach when you realize he's repeating your words. "Love of your life am I?" Simon scoffs, the skin around his eyes moving in a sardonic smirk. "You're full of shite."

He doesn't know who he's trying to convince here.

You know you should brush it off, go along and say it was just a joke. Say anything that won't clue him in to your real feelings. Hell, not even saying a thing would be good.

But you just have to open your mouth.

"I wasn't lying about that Simon." You say suddenly, open, honest, your eyes meeting his.

Silence stretches long enough to have your nerves crackle with static, your body needing something instead of the nothing he gives you. Then Simon lets out a short, dry laugh, like your words are just a joke.

"Quit it." He huffs, doesn't meet your eyes because looking at you and entertaining the idea that he could have something more with you fucking hurts. "'m not up for your focking jokes." He grows, turning to leave,

Something inside you makes you move before your mind can comprehend it, grabbing his hand to stop him, "Simon I love you damn it!"

Your words are like a slap to the face for him. Simon freezes like a cornered deer, thousands of thoughts darkening his eyes, brows furrowed like he doesn't know whether to be angry or not. "But we—'

"—we agreed, I know. I fucking know." You hiss and damn it you can feel tears prickle your eyes like needles, "But I fucking love you, been in love with you for years and I know we agreed not to but—" You're babbling now, each word leaving your chest feeling raw like an open wound, the weight on your shoulders lessening but it only draws the noose tighter. "—just tell me how I'm supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me."

Silence greets you as you stare into his eyes, that same static gnawing on your nerves the longer he just looks at you without a word, searching for something in your eyes he expects not to find.

But he does.

He spares you, pulls you by the clothes so his lips can crash onto yours, holding you close like you'll disappear. The kiss is sloppy and desperate just as it had been when you'd been hiding behind the school bleachers, all teeth and tongue and care.

Eventually the need for air breaks you two apart, but Simon refuses to let you go far. His rough hands hug you close as he rests his forehead against yours, pupils blown wide. ". . .love me, huh?" He says under his breath, as if he can't believe it.

"Yeah." You breathe out and wrap your own arms around him till there's not an inch of space between your chests, hearts beating fast like war drums but in such a rhythm you'd be fooled to think you share one. "Do you?"

Simon swallows, his throat dry, but the words slide smoothly off his tongue. "Yeah." He says, letting you pull him back into a kiss. It's sweeter this time, calmer, no longer rushing to feel the other. He melts against you, a low sound building in his throat as the sensations of you wrap his mind in silk, the taste, the feel, the scent, all of it making his mind fuzzy. All his now.

You lose track of time, stealing gulps of air between kisses as your minds drown in the other, your bodies moving on their own. You don't know how you end up in the bed but you do, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Simon's body presses against your own.

You part to catch your breath, Simon's head falling back on the pillow with your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He's underneath you, eyes hooded and short hair ruffled, and while usually he'd push you back and wrestle for control, this time he just melts into the sheets, lets you do as you want.

"Fuck-" Simon growls as you kiss down his neck, his blunt nails scratching your scalp as reward for the little hickeys you leave on his throat. Your hands roam across his body, leaving lingering trails of burning heat. "Love, please hurry up." He breathes out, cock already rock hard from just a few kisses and heavy touches.

"Right," You say, because that's all your brain can conjure up at the moment. Blindly reaching for the lube you trail kisses down his front, your lips tracing every scar along the way, his legs easily parting so you can settle between them. You can't help but look him over again, all relaxed and eager for you, chest rising and falling like he's a racehorse. "God you're fucking pretty."

A deep flush spreads from Simon's ears down to his hickey marked shoulders, a little smile tugging on the corner of his lip. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful." You breathe out against his abdomen, rubbing your fingers together to warm the lube. "So handsome." You don't miss how his cock twitches, your lips following his happy trail. "Charming." You hum against the tip of his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at his slit. "Bloody bewitching." His hips buck into your mouth as your fingers slowly circle his puckered rim, putting just a bit of pressure at first. "Irresistible." His body yields, the tense muscles of his rim going lax and letting you slide a finger in.

A low and long groan escapes his chest, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the stretch, tight walls clenching in the rhythm of his breaths. "Read a dictionary, did you?" Simon smirks, heart warm and floaty at the way you wait for him to relax after the intrusion before you move, at the way you look at him when your exploring finger brushes his prostate and makes him moan. "Such a focking charmer."

"Just for you." You chuckle, lightly sucking on his cockhead to make him forget about the lingering pain, your ears pricked to hear every little groan and unabashed moan leaving his lips. "Can you handle two?" You ask, your second finger resting against his rim without trying to push in.

He growls like an animal and pushes his hips down on your hand, "You're sleeping on the couch if you don't hurry up." He warns at your question, his harsh glare softened by the heavy flush across his face and his hooded eyes.

"Not the dog house." You say in mock fear, swallowing his leaking cock a third of the way down in one go as you push your second finger in, your thumb rubbing the space between his balls and ass so his prostate is trapped on both ends.

"Shite-" Simon's hips twitch up, beads of precum painting your tongue as his legs spread open more. "-you wanker." His insult is light, head rolling back as he grounds his hips down in an attempt to chase after that spine numbing pleasure your fingers bring.

Pulling back enough to murmur "Love you too." against his tip you take him into your mouth again. You can't measure how good it feels to say those words honestly instead of sarcastically, your own arousal forgotten as you work him open on your fingers, the constant pressure on his prostate making a small stream of precum bead down your throat.

Simon floats in heaven for, he doesn't know how long, the pleasure making his brain melt through his dick, unable to stop the soft sounds escaping his throat. He cracks an eye open when the tightness in his stomach becomes apparent, barely able to stave off his orgasm when he sees his cock throbbing between your lips.

Your name comes out slurred as he tugs on your hair, "Need you. Now." A little bit of his usual demanding nature comes out, but even then it's born out of desperation to feel you rather than the need to be in control.

You let him pull you off his cock, placing gentle kisses on his thick thighs as you pull your fingers out of his stretched hole. "You have me."

You go to grab a condom but he stops you, too aroused to be embarrassed by his eagerness. "You don't- my physical, I'm clean. If you want, I mean-"

You furrow your brows, your chest tight with how big your heart feels. You could never hide how sick you'd feel at the thought of Simon being intimate with someone else, even when you'd never agreed to be exclusive. "We did physicals nearly three months ago, you haven't. . .?"

He shakes his head, "No," Suddenly he tenses up, his jaw tight like he's expecting bad news. "Have you?" His tone isn't judgmental, but you can hear the edge of hurt.

"No. No. No!" Quick to dispel his thoughts you lean over to kiss him like he's a bout of fresh air and you've been drowning for years. It's not too far from the truth. "You're the only one I've ever. . .done that with." You murmur against his lips, earning yourself another kiss as he pulls down by a hand on the back of your neck.

"Good." Simon tuts, proud, hiking one leg around your waist to pull you closer, your cocks rubbing together. "Fuck me already." He grumbles, his strong arms wrapped around your neck.

"Right, yeah." Despite how many times you've done this suddenly you feel like a fucking virgin, your hands trembling slightly as you lube up your cock. You press the tip against his slick hole, forcing you to bite your lip as you start to push your hips. "Just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon breathes out, feeling pressure of your cockhead against his hole. You both groan when your cockhead pops inside him, your lips on his making him forget about the lingering sting. "Shite, so good for me." Simon hums, looking at you with hooded eyes. Usually he relishes the sting and burn sex with you brings, but he's so loose and lubed the pain is barely a prickle at the back of his skull and he finds himself getting addicted to the unfiltered pressure and weight of your cock inside him.

"Simon," You say, clenching your teeth as you try to keep still so he can get used to you, holding his hips for dear life. "Can I- please I need."

"Focking move it," He nods his head, his head rolling back from the sensation of you moving inside him, your cock brushing against his walls as you push inside him inch by inch until you're fully inside him.

Your nerves a live wire from how tight and hot his hole is, forcing you to rest your head on the pillow next to his as you try to gather your self-control; you'll be damned if you cum before him.

"I'm good." Simon tugs on your scalp, your lips meeting in a lopsided kiss. You pull away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes blown wide and hooded, something about this position so intimate it melts your heart. "Hurry up, 'm not going to last long." He confesses, his walls clenching down on your length.

Words escape you so you just nod your head, slowly pulling your hips back before pushing back in, Simon meeting you half way so your cock can lay consistent pressure on his prostate. You two move like one, your senses full of sex and heat, your ears ringing with Simon's low moans and groans. Moving your hand down you stroke him in time with your thrusts, earning yourself even more moans. Usually Simon's so quiet in bed, but now he lets it all out so freely, low growls and huffs and small 'ah, ah, ah's breathed into your ear with every small movement of your hips.

Your pace picks up as your orgasm approaches, your cock bashing against his prostate with all the subtlety of a tank. "Shite-" Simon throws his head back to moan, leaving his throat open for your teeth to lay even more hickeys. "-I, fuck, yeah, that's the spot- just- I need-" His voice turns higher pitched and needy, his body moving with the force of your thrusts, powerful arms pulling you even closer so his teeth can clamp down on your shoulder.

Simon cums with a shout that's muffled into the meat of your shoulder, whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he paints both of your stomach's white with his cum, his hole clenching down and pulling you along with him. You cum inside him and moan, collapsing on top of him, completely exhausted.

The silence of the bedroom is broken up by your haggard breathing, both of your bodies sweaty and hot. You tilt your head just enough to catch the way Simon looks at you, like a content cat that knows he's safe, and shit if that doesn't melt your heart, nothing will.

"God, that was something else." You say to break the silence, trying to pull out when you feel yourself soften but your attempts are stopped quickly, Simon grumbling something under his breath as he hugs you closer. "What?" You ask.

He throws a light glare your way, but his eyelids droop with exhaustion. "Don't." He says, relaxing when you stop what you're doing. "Want to feel you." He says; it's the most intelligent thing his mind can conjure up right now.

A gentle smile tugs on your lips. "Right." You lean down to share another kiss with him, this one sweet and slow, his tongue gently liking your lips as a way to ask for entrance— why rush when you've got all the time in the world?

The exhaustion weighing on your bones and Simon saccharine kisses lull you to sleep soon enough, your body like a weighted blanket on top of him. "Love you," You mumble just before your eyes close.

Simon fights against his own fatigue for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of being connected in such a primal way, with you in him and around him. He takes in your sleeping face with blurry eyes.

Yeah. Love. That fits.

#Gnome's Prompt Game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #dom male reader #ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x male reader #cod smut

495 notes · View notes

eatommo · 4 months

Text

Hotshot [c.f.99]

CW: Poly!batchxreader, group sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (m&f recieving), double penetration, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal and anal creampie, multiple partners, cumshots, anal sex, ass eating, spanking, praise, authority kink, cucking? kinda?, implied recording of sex, mention of weapons, mentions of aftercare, overstimulation, post season 7 pre omega, dom/sub dynamics, allusions to subspace, slight degradation, shower sex, mutual pining lots of kissing, no clonecest, liberties for hunter's tattoo, reader has hair long enough to pull, reader gets picked up and carried, i probably missed something let me know!

A/N: 5.6k of pure smut, absolutely no plot here. All mistakes are mine, repost and let me know what/if you like <3

As you climb the steps to the Marauder, something about this mission feels different. It's been months since you've been away from the boys, and almost as long since you cared.

Since running away from the clutches of the empire and charming your way aboard the ship you've become an asset to the team even in just your companionship, but it was also nice to have someone around who wasn't a clone. It made it that much easier to do recon, and also that much easier to infiltrate a group because your face wasn't spread across every corner of the Empire.

However, the longer you stayed with them, the more you valued what made them different. You learned who to go to for help with blaster trouble, and even learned to overlook Crosshair’s slights during your target practice. You’ve also learned that Hunter was sensitive to flowers and strong scents and that he had the best-smelling soap aboard the ship (and never seemed to mind when you used it). Tech, on the other hand, was always great at making you feel included, but was always, always going to double-check anything you did to the ship ‘just in case.’ Echo might've been one of the most interesting people to talk to, during his work with the 501st and the glory days of working alongside some of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy he saw many planets and cultures that you had only dreamed about. Wrecker, well, he was a big softy despite his talent for demolitions and overall penchant for violence, he was the first to volunteer to take you out and stretch your legs in a nearby city and to help you bring home rations (and a sweet treat or two) for the rest of the crew, and has even carried you home from cantina trips a time or two.

They were closer than any other troop you'd seen, all depending and working so tightly and neatly together you'd think that adding you to the mix would complicate things but all you seemed to do was fit in like sand in the desert. You fell into a routine, they'd leave you at the ship during more dangerous jobs, typically with Echo or Tech at your side to assist with any repairs as you kept the inside of the ship in order, and kept a close eye on any equipment and prepping rations and meals as they became available.

After a stop on Batuu, in which you fought every urge to procure a Loth cat, instead letting Crosshair buy you a long thin vibroblade to appease you. “I haven't given up by the way.” You shout over your shoulder, as you settle into your seat before the others.

“I've thought so.” Tech, his voice more amused than anything. “Let us not berate the woman so that she uses that thing on us, shall we? We are cleared for takeoff.” Wrecker chuckles at the idea of you brandishing the thin blade to any of them. You could hold your own for sure, but you were no ARC trooper.

You settle aboard, staying seated until you reach the upper atmosphere, locking your cloak away with your blade, settling back into the seat near the cockpit, and resting your head against the wall.

“If you need rest, my bunk is open,” Wrecker whispers his words and his voice contradicting each other. He's gruff but his speech is soft like he's afraid to startle you, he's cleaning his blaster but leans forward to speak softly to you. “It's still the biggest bunk.” He smiles and with his helmet in his lap, you can see the intense scaring over the side of his head, and your fingers twitch at your side begging to caress it.

“I'm fine thank you.” You beam at him surprised by the crack in your voice and not wanting to seem ungrateful for the gesture. “I’m quite content out here.” Wrecker blushes, as if embarrassed he even brought it up.

You can hear the audible judgemental breath of Crosshair even from your position behind his back, as he examines his rifle, something amiss and there's a thick tension in the room you can't quite place. Glancing around as they settle in for take-off, none of them seem to want to meet your eyes.

“I didn't expect you all to get so shy, I thought maybe you were starting to warm up to me.” You let your voice trail off, a hint of a tease that cuts into the thick tension in the air for a brief moment. Before Hunter sharply stands up and lets his feet carry him towards you.

Last night’s mission for Rex was messier than any of you had expected and used up the last of your bacta supply. Hence the trip to Batuu, and what you thought was a tense conversation about purpose or authority between the group. You’d overheard something about keeping secrets when you’d greeted them at the ship’s ramp and the pinched nerve in Hunter’s jaw encouraged you to keep your mouth shut. Since the tension between each of them has been as taught and dangerous as a tightrope. As the long-haired clone approached you, you sat straighter, already apologizing for being difficult before he cut you off.

Leaning down until he is practically whispering in your ear, "We are programmed to be professional first and foremost. And we are not always so shy."

Just sharing your space with him has your body reacting to him, vibrating in both fear and a sneaking feeling of arousal. His breath is hot and you turn to look into his dark brown eyes, eyes you should be so familiar with. “I am not an officer, I do not bite, and there's no reason to be formal.” the sentence comes out as a squeak, and you try to hide embarrassment flashing through your cheeks.

He smiles, his voice dips lower but is so soft you swear you can feel his words caress your skin, “Easy hotshot, we might like a woman who bites.”

Oh, oh wow. We.

In an instant, everything and all your feelings about them shift and change. You spent the last few rotations convincing yourself it was normal to feel bubbly around them, they'd saved you, and they were providing for you. This feeling, the unmistakable pull of longing and need in the pit of your belly, would complicate things.

Hunter stands and departs the conversation with an ease you envy. You take a deep breath and compose yourself just to look up and see the rest of the crew watching you, like a wounded animal, you catch just a glimmer of a blush in Echo’s face.

Rex mentioned they were a tight-knit group he seemed shocked you fell in line with them, but hell you didn't expect this. Each of them is in their thoughts as you glance around the ship. Echo and Tech are busying themselves with the controls, but you can see Echo worrying his lip, and Tech turning his head to glance at you every few moments as if wondering what will happen first. Or rather who?

Crosshair stares at you, blankly like he's trying to read every line in your smile or every wrinkle in your clothes, your eyes click together and he smiles like a lothcat with a womprat in his teeth. “You're not intimidated by us?” It's almost as if he's as shocked as the fact itself, there's a cutting edge to the statement like you should be, and then a corner of his mouth turns up. “You like being here,” he tests the statement as if tasting the fact on his tongue, “with all of us.”

You smirk, doing your best to match the heat in his stare, “I am grateful. I've never felt so important or wanted,” you swallow thickly letting the heat in your body you know Hunter can sense, speak for itself, “At least, not yet.” You shift in your seat glancing up at Hunter who is glaring hungrily at your chest as if he could hear your heart leap in your chest with every passing moment.

You glance up to the stars ahead of the ship, Tech looks like he's preparing the ship to jump to light speed. The return mission, at its worst, should only take a few days and even less of that is travel, normally you're not one for long lightspeed trips but this time you wonder if it will be too short.

The way the crew looks at you makes your skin tingle, not sure if you’ve ever been paid this much attention before. As the ship lurches into hyperspace, you let your head lull back to catch Hunter's attention, peering up towards his face as your chin hovers just a foot away from his codpiece.

Doing your best to keep your breath even, a part of you wishes to stand and kiss him, but this time it’s your turn to feel shy. You stand, brushing your chest across Hunter’s’ and waltzing over to lean against the control panel of the ship and the two quieter clones on this ship.

The moment Tech realizes you’re moving towards him his posture is stuck straight, but Echo only leans slightly towards you as you pass your hand over his shoulder. Standing at the front of the ship has only allowed them all to stare at you, your heart skips a beat. You see Hunter’s eye twitch, he is reading you like a book.

“Well,” you speak slowly and eloquently, playing into their curiosity, “How should we pass the time?”

“Come here.” the room's attention snaps to Crosshair, whose red-hot gaze is marring into your skin. Silence falls over the craft as Crosshair lifts a hand and gestures toward his empty waiting lap. Slowly, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker turn again towards you but Hunter stays strong locked into some silent dialogue with his brother.

You feel as if it is entirely dangerous to cross the space between the two. Yet your feet carry you without worry, and neither of them breaks until their vision is obstructed by your body. You turn facing the softened expression in Hunter’s eyes, and slowly lower yourself onto Crosshair's lap.

Placing your hands on his knees to steady yourself, you lean back until your head is resting on his chest and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Good girl.”

His whispers send shivers down your spine and Hunter sinks to his knees in front of you, as Cross removes your shirt from over your head and the rest of the Batch descends upon you like wolves.

As Hunter’s face presses against the softness of your hip, Tech's teeth graze your neck and Wrecker's hands smooth over your nipples, you're overwhelmed at their strength. These are battle-hardened soldiers, Crosshair runs a calloused finger down your spine, and you're reminded how soft you are. Your skin is plush and comforts all of Hunter’s senses as the boys proceed to lose themselves upon you, you're reminded of the comfort they provide for you, a safety net you never knew you craved and the appetite you never knew could become so hungry.

Your canvas pants are ripped down the leg by Wrecker and Hunter’s combined efforts, the sound almost drowned out by a collection of panting wanton noises, and the scraps hit the floor out of sight.

Hunter noses across the top of your panties, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin of your pussy as you feel Cross shift his hips and push his hard cock into your ass. All of them are in full armor, save for the helmets, yet you lie strewn out before them slick pooling in your panties as they take turns pulling pleasure from your body like they serve no higher purpose.

It's Wrecker who pulls himself from his flight suit first, and you can't remember ever having such a physical reaction to something like this before. You reach out on instinct, fingers not wrapping completely around his girth and teasing the pink tip until it begins to leak into your palm. He towers over your head as whimpers and shudders wrack through his body as though he's never been touched.

You catch a glimpse of Echo, standing slightly off to the side, watching with his pupils fully dilated as he follows the path of Hunter’s mouth on your skin his face flush with crimson. Tilting your head back you turn towards Crosshair and give him a deep kiss, letting him lick into your mouth feverishly. Hunter’s fingers trace over your seam delicately over the thin fabric of your panties as they grow transparent with your desire.

Wrecker’s cock is thick and heavy in your hand, and you clench wantingly around nothing, his hips brush into your hand with a tenderness you long to experience. Crosshair snakes a hand up your chest and cradles the thin skin over your throat, chasing Tech’s glancing kisses away, but taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind your hips against his cock.

In a few mere movements, the men surrounding you have altered your state of mind and each passing touch coaxes you further into submission. Tech shifts and lets his breath ghost over your nipples, you turn your head and catch Hunter in a deep kiss noting how different he tastes and feels against you. You let your thumb swipe over the leaking tip of Wrecker's cock, and fight the urge to stuff your fingers in your mouth to taste.

Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away, letting Echo take his place between your legs but not before using his dagger to cut the hip of your undergarments and stuffing them into one of his pant pockets.

You blush at the obscenity of it all, but it quickly soothed away but the cool metal of Echo’s headpiece brushing over your thighs. Wordlessly Crosshair adjusts the seat so your pussy is presented to Echo, leaning more onto your back and looking up at the boys devouring your form.

His mouth is hot, licking softly over your clit as you relax with Crosshair stroking the pulse point in your neck. You’re slick with arousal and he doesn’t hesitate to lick it up teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe, letting yourself melt against him, fighting to stay concentrated enough to play with Wrecker’s balls tugging and rolling them beneath your fingers. Eager to pleasure every one of them.

Echo’s glove ghosts over your sex, teasing your entrance with a digit, the leather smoothly gliding over your skin. Hunter and Tech each take to stroking down your thighs and holding them in place, “Easy, meshla, we will take good care of you.”

Your mind is swimming, when did this start? Tech steps a hair closer to your face, tilting your jaw up with his free hand, and slips a finger past your lips. You suck lightly, sure to match the pace at which you’re stroking Wrecker. You get a praising hum, and Tech surprisingly is the second to drop his pants and pull himself free. Stroking himself to the rhythm of you teasing him with a curl of your tongue.

It's the tangled moan of you around Tech’s fingers that breaks Crosshair, his pants unbearably tight and each little movement of your hips making him clench his jaw to stave the noises that die in his throat. He lifts you to your feet, and removes his pants, letting himself spring free. You have to admit you expected the armor to be harder to take off.

You stand on unsteady feet, in an attempt to turn your head towards Crosshair, Hunter captures your chin in two fingers locking your eyes together. “Echo.” A chuckle reverberates between them, all seemingly on board with whatever plan this could be. Echo slides flat onto his back looking up at you and the rest of the boys. The realization is enough to make you shiver. Your pussy clenches, still empty, but a dripping mess sticks your thighs together. Hunter’s eyes are burning through your resolve, there’s an intensity you’d come to respect that now sends a spike of fear through you. “Sit.”

You go to protest but are quickly shut down and you look around at the men surrounding you eagerly but patiently waiting for you to follow his instructions. Swallowing thickly over the lump in your throat, you sink to your knees and hover a few inches from Echo’s waiting mouth. From your knees they tower above you, all but Hunter free from their confines. You get a good look at the three cocks, all weeping and swollen pink across their tip, beautifully complimenting the darker-tanned skin of their shaft.

Each of them was different, which only slightly surprises you, Wrecker being the thickest, but both Tech and Crosshair meet him in length. You can feel each breath from Echo’s mouth, knowing you're probably close to dripping across his chin. You lower slowly, afraid to hurt him, until he licks the seam of your entrance savoring the hot flesh and you seek his tongue sitting on his face in earnest. His mouth brings welcome waves of pleasure as he suckles on your clit.

They pump themselves slowly, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing with each shiver. You start to move your hips in small circles while reaching to palm over Crosshair’s balls and stroking up over his shaft squeezing a bead of precome from the tip. You open your mouth and glance between them, expecting to see some kind of hierarchy emerge but they take a half step toward you together.

You opt for taking Tech into your mouth, but only because he's in the middle, letting yourself drool around him as you suck on the thick knot of his cock head, before turning and spitting the excess saliva onto Crosshair’s cock coating it with slick to make your fist glide against him nice and quickly. Tightening around the base and working more of those beautiful precum drips from his leaking tip.

You snap back to Tech’s cock, tasting the sweat of his skin, and the desire for your body grows with each passing second as he throbs needfully in your mouth.

Echo is teasing your clit with calculated movements of his tongue, licking around it in sharp purposeful circles, and sucking on it every few passes. Enough to make your brain fuzz up each time his lips seal around you as Tech nudges the back of your throat to earn a gag.

You pull off him again, this time gathering the drool in your mouth to cover as much of Wrecker's cock as you physically can. His cock is so heavy it sways low on his hips thick and so hard your body is already aching for the sting that will accompany the stretch. You use the thick spit to pump him slower, allowing yourself a moment to admire what has to be the largest you'll ever get the chance to worship.

The slick sounds are broken with an “Atta girl.” in the shape of a deep growl from Wrecker’s chest. He reaches and gathers some drool from your chin and brushes it over your lip and you open instinctively, just as Echo uses his tongue to prod at your entrance. His praise is as wholesome as his affection for you.

Hunter has taken a seat across from the rest of you, watching as if analyzing each movement of your legs as they quiver from the ravenous pleasure and your throat tightens around the length of Crosshair's shaft. His thin fingers find purchase at the back of your neck, urging you to sputter around him and the sick squelch just barely audible beneath your moans.

Echo swiftly plunges two fingers into your pussy, crooking them and stroking deliciously at your g-spot and forcing you to pull yourself away from Crosshair to let your head drop as you fight for composure. “Let yourself enjoy it little one. It won’t be your last.” Cross takes the tip of his cock and taps the tip to your tongue.

You swear, body humming and teetering on the edge before losing yourself to one hellishly explosive orgasm. It shocks you, body shaking and toes curling against the cool floor as your body burns in the aftershocks Echo works you through it with some tentative kisses to your entrance, and he encourages you to sit up so he can slide out from under you.

So much of the room is spinning you don’t notice Tech sitting in front of you until you’re kissing him. His tongue finds yours in a syrupy sweet and methodical kiss as you fight to catch your breath. Wrecker moves behind you, running his rough hands down your back and palming the flesh of your ass, striking it with a loud slap.

Tech swallows your gasp, pinching your nipples and pulling them as Wrecker bends you at the waist until you’re scrambling to your hands and knees sucking Tech into your mouth with a compliant and satisfied hum.

Hunter speaks up, “Turn around.” The trance is broken for the briefest of seconds, and you don't have time to think before they’re turning you so you’re faced with Wrecker’s huge cock and Tech teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. The passive command that Hunter has over all of you gives you goosebumps, his authority even stronger than the ache they share for you.

You sink to your elbows, propping your ass up on display and practically begging for Tech to fuck you, pushing back onto the head of his cock, all while blinking away tears as Wrecker’s size makes your jaw ache. The larger man splays his hand across the back of your head, inciting your thick moans as you work as much of him as you can fit.

Tech’s hips pitch forward and he’s splitting you open in one fluid deep thrust until your ass is nestled against his hips and he grunts at the eager squeeze of your sex around him. You work your hips in sync with your head the drag of his cock along your walls is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He shifts from both knees to one, allowing a deeper thrust to kiss your cervix with a hiss of pain-laced pleasure. He sets a pace, hips meeting yours in synchronous harmony, and the three of you get lost in each other's pleasure.

You’re briefly aware of Crosshair stroking himself above you and Hunter is still watching with bated breath as you service his brothers, wondering if you’ll let each of them have a turn or if they’ll need to give you a break.

Tech snakes a hand around to press a firm thumb against your clit, and a rush of fluid hits the floor of the cargo space that permeates his senses. The sickly sweet smell of your release coats his tongue and he chokes the head of his cock through his clothes to stop him from cumming before he even gets to touch you.

Your vision is white, and you’re vaguely aware of the spend running down your thighs. When Tech pulls himself free with a grunt you feel the hot ropes of his cum on your back you whine, feeling ashamed that you long for him to finish inside of you. You clench around nothing and sit up to look at Wrecker who brushes a hair out of your face. You kiss him, softly at first, unsure of his comfort with the taste of his precome in your mouth, but he growls and lifts you by your waist, licking into your mouth as he helps you hover over his cock.

You take advantage of the break, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking the weight off your knees in favor of straddling him. Even in his lap, you’re looking up at him. Letting gravity do some of the work, you adjust to let him prod at your entrance and sink slowly onto him, the slick warmth of your pussy a welcome substitute for your pretty mouth.

His chest rumbles beneath yours, groaning as your pussy flutters around him. You kiss him through a grimace, “Take your time.” He whispers against your mouth, low enough you’re not sure the others hear him. Heart swelling at the compassion, you let him slowly rock his hips against you, easing his way into your heat and keeping his hands splayed across your hips to support you.

It’s a slow process, each inch accompanied by breathless and muffled moans followed by kisses and words of endearment. “You can take it mesh’la.” You’re nearly there, body so in tune with his every word you nearly forgot your showmanship.

Crosshair is to your right, one hand gripping the base of his cock as precome dribbles and hangs just out of reach from your eager tongue, muttering something in a language you don’t understand.

You swear you can feel the throb of Wrecker inside of you, and he presses his mouth to your forehead as he pistons his hips slowly angling your body in a way so that he’s moving you along his shaft effortlessly.

Breathless and spent, you let him. Being filled by him is almost overwhelming, each push and pull feeling like he's going to split you in half. He mumbles and groans into your hairline, speaking nonsense in between bitten-off praise. When his fingers find your clit you all but cry, shaking your head in protest, “Please- I can't.”

It's Hunter that answers your cries, “You can.” His voice hoarse with need and restraint, “Be a good girl.” Your brow furrows, in concentration, tossing your head back in near agony at the overstimulation.

Wrecker leans forward and presses his mouth to the column of your throat sucking on the thin skin and leaving a pink welt in his wake. You feel as if you could explode, not able to hear the sounds of your screams as you shudder and writhe under his touch, against his skin and your body falls slack with the overwhelming pleasure.

He lifts his face and you catch a pleased smile, like a loth-wolf with its prey in its teeth. As he throbs and fucks his spend deep into your core. They all see the muted smile tug at the corner of your mouth as Wrecker cums inside you.

He holds you for a moment, kissing over the reddish blemish on your throat and waiting for you to make eye contact with him before slipping free with a tangled whimper from both of you.

Wrecker wraps your legs around him and stands on sturdy legs, you cling to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder hyperaware of the wetness between your thighs. He sets you on Hunter's lap, in your euphoria, he’s lost his pants and sits still in a pair of soft cotton underwear, stark black against his tanned abdomen. It’s now that you notice his tattoo, so familiar with the portion on his face you never notice how the tattoo bleeds across the entire left side of his body.

The lines are both clean and elegant, highlighting the rich flawless tone of his figure. Gorgeously broad shoulders with rippling cords of muscles supporting your cheek as you rest your head lazily and admire him. Placing a lingering and exhausted kiss to the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck and relishing the warmth of him against your sweat-soaked skin, in the extra cold air of a ship in hyperspace.

He runs his fingers through your hair, scratching lightly and working every line of tension out of you over a few minutes. You distantly hear the sound of the fresher’s shower being turned on. Crosshair is gone, and you fear a pang of regret and pity.

Your breath is coming easier by the time, Hunter carries you towards the sound of the water. Crosshair meets you both under the water’s spray refreshing your senses and soothing the ache of your muscles. You get settled on your feet between them, legs feeling like they’re made of sand, Hunter’s body is pressed tightly to your back, anchoring and steadying you as you greet Crosshair with an inviting kiss.

He welcomes your touch, all but overtaking your space completely as you get pressed between the two of them and lost to the feeling of their bodies against yours, Hunter nestled into the small of your back and Crosshair’s cock leaking and purple with need against your belly.

The steam only adds to the dreamlike quality of it all, tendrils wafting off the ground and highlighting the sight of your ass pressed against him. Hunter doesn’t want to hurt you, but each passing second without fucking you is making him lose his sanity. As if he might just sink into the floor with the weight of his need crushing him entirely.

He nibbles at your earlobe, earning a low whine from your chest. You tilt your head in invitation for his affection, kissing up the column of your neck and tasting the water on your skin tangled with the smell of his brothers. He makes eye contact with Crosshair, and they communicate silently as they spin you around and switch roles.

Hunter licking into your mouth and letting his hand run down to your hip and pull you to him. Expecting the press of Crosshair to your back, you’re startled when you feel the graze of his teeth on your ass. His palms run over the smooth skin, kneading the flesh and watching it move in response to his touch.

Crosshair splays a hand on the small of your back, urging you to lean forward. You glance over your shoulder as he spreads you open and licks a stripe across your asshole. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine, you hear a chuckle as he presses the pad of his thumb into you and watches you with a hungry stare.

Hunter distracts you, kissing you slowly and running his hands soothingly down your back as Crosshair preps you to take him until he’s working two fingers in and out of you and sucking a bruise into your hip to match the one adorning your throat.

You nibble on Hunter’s lip, and bury your hands into his hair, tugging at the root living for the whimpers you get out of him. Crosshair kisses his way up your spine, standing straight, and this time you see them. There’s a small nod of agreement and both of them turn their full attention to you, “You gonna let us fuck you cyar’ika?”

Without hesitation, you nod. You’re not able to explain, how you were able to wrap your arms around Hunter as he hoisted you up his waist and you sank down onto his length. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the way he demanded your submission through the tone of his voice. No, you thought, it was the way he sounded like he was begging you, he commanded your attention but the way he used his authority had you believing that you, and what he asked of you, was the most important thing in the galaxy. You wanted nothing more than to give him everything he asked for and more.

They give you a moment, Hunter biting his lip as your cunt squeezes him like you haven’t already come three times already. You throw an arm around Crosshair’s neck opening your legs just enough for him to slot himself against you and slowly push into you with the cant of his hips.

He goes incredibly slow, sawing his hips back and forth and relishing in the feeling of Hunter’s cock also nestled deep inside you making you impossibly tighter and the friction of your walls against him.

It feels like too much, pain and pleasure mixing in an enchanting cocktail of stimulation, yet still the familiar tug of an orgasm stirs in your belly. You suppress a sob at the idea of coming for a fourth time around the both of them. They hush you, nuzzling against you and pressing righteous and thankful kisses to your skin, “Look at you, pretty girl.” Crosshair’s voice is so low and drawn out that it takes every last shred of your concentration to hear what he’s saying, “You look so good taking everything we give you.”

The inflection acts like a highlight reel, your body remembering along with your brain the feeling of being the center of attention during your first orgasm. The complexity of your second. The white-hot stretch of Wrecker using and worshipping your body filling you to the brim during the aftershocks of your third. Hunter whispers against the shell of your ear, “Good girl.” Reading the signs of your body and feeling the crest of your orgasm build around him, and pulling you over the edge with his praise.

He presses his forehead to yours as he follows close behind, senses overwhelmed and fighting the bend to his knees as they buckle with the intensity of his climax.

Crosshair pumps into you from behind, lifting one of your legs slightly and changing the angle so he can thrust deeper grinding into you, and urging you to lean more heavily on him to keep the three of you from collapsing as he stills and spills into you.

The three of you pant in silence, ragged breath lost in the noise of the water hitting the metal floor of the fresher, you wordlessly separate. The endorphins running through your bloodstream turn your muscles' pain into a blissful ache you never want to forget.

#polybatch #poly!badbatchxreader #poly x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #clone force 99 #the bad batch #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mandoa #no clonecest

190 notes · View notes

parmahamlarrie · 2 months

Text

Happy July! I read some truly incredibly works this month, I hope you enjoy them as much as I have! x As always, please leave the authors love in the form of kudos and comments!

Coraçāo selvagem || @nooradeservedbetter || 50.1k Omegaverse, Shifter AU, Pack Dynamics, Feral Alpha, Courting, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence This was such a pleasure to beta! A truly plot focused story that will have you kept locked in from beginning to end!

My Hands at Risk, I Fold || @yourgorgeouscolors28 || 43.7k Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, Famous/Famous, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Fluff God, I just adored this. I think it checked all my boxes in what I want in a comfort fic! So lovely, a great read, and one that will stick with me for a long time.

a little, then suddenly || @holdingontochaos || 34k Friends to Lovers, Graysexual Harry, Roommates, Idiots in Love I truly am not sure I have words for this one. It is just wholly and entirely fantastic and deeply moving and so lovely.

On a starlit night || @lunarheslwt || 24.1k Omegaverse, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis, Pack Dynamics, Shifter AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Courting Ceremony, Pack Luna Louis This was such a great mix of fluff and plot, thoroughly lovely all the way through!

Nest To You || @neondiamond || 14.9k Omegaverse, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, Getting Together, Nesting This was such a fun little dive into the life of a couple! I love the timestamp structure!

It's Not That I Don't Want You || @parmahamlarrie || 12.5k Established Relationship, Ace Harry, Character Study, Fashion Designer Harry

may your dreams be kind tonight || @tippitytap || 11k Strangers to Lovers, OCD, Insomnia, Anxiety This felt deeply personal (to me) and poignant and was so, so good.

Never Wanted Love, Just A Fancy Car || @loveislarryislove || 7.7k Boss/Employee, Strangers to Lovers, Office Sex, Misunderstandings

On That Note || @allwaswell16 || 6.2k Omegaverse, Office AU, Pen Pal AU, Humor, Co-Workers to Lovers This one is just so fun, a really good time! I'm sad I missed it before!

Quiet Afternoon Crush / Violent Overnight Rush || harrys || 4.9k Girl Direction, Friends with Benefits, Halloween, Unresolved Feelings

reckless serenade || thepolourryexpress || 4.4k Girl Direction, College AU, Valentine's Day, Established Relationship

Yesterday's gone (it'll be better than before) || @red-pandaaa || 3.5k Canon, Euro 2024, Exes to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

Miles Away From Seeing You || @loveislarryislove || 1k Established Relationship, Long Distance Basically a SMAU on AO3, which I loved!

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #fic rec list #larry fic rec #my fic rec lists #my monthly reads #monthly fic round up #cristalread

92 notes · View notes

svmjaeyvn · 6 months

Text

love maze, s.jy.

chapter nine pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER NINE: JEALOUSY

previous masterlist next

word count: 4.1k

warnings: minjun is being a stalker, that’s sort of it??

a/n: IM SORRY IVE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG. i’m working + doing an internship at the same time so im exhausted everyday since being an adult SUCKS so i’ve neglected writing (though i have a new idea for a smau lol) and this not that great but i wanted to provide something for you guys </3 jake is down horrendous and not even hiding it now it’s crazy

"PLEASE STOP STARING," Ni-ki whined, throwing an ice cube in Jake's direction who was perched at the counter with a giddy smile. You were on the other side of the store, in the midst of barring out drinks before turning to help your coworker with a unsatisfied customer.

It was different to see you in your element, of course to you it being a mere barista job but Jake couldn't deny how much a leadership position suited you. You were good at quite literally everything, barely paying him mind when he waltzed in 20 minutes ago due to the afternoon rush but seeming calm and collected as you handled the line of drinks that seemed never ending. You looked as pretty as ever in his eyes, your haired pulled up by the clip in your hair and bare skin that seemed to be glowing.

You were called in last minute by a fellow shift as they weren't able to come in due to an emergency. Knowing Ms. Cho would've been the one to cover, something you couldn't bare to make her do as she was meant to take the week off due to spraining her wrist, and not wanting to leave Ni-ki hanging you canceled on the previous study-date you had scheduled with Jake much to his disappointment.

Lo and behold though, said boy decided that he had all the time in the world to wait for you. After you called him on your break, excited that a coworker would be coming in to do the closing tasks, telling him you'd be off at 6:30 instead of 10, Jake stopped by an hour before your shift would end deeming that allowing him to treat you to dinner would make up for the raincheck.

"Bro honestly, I know she's your girlfriend but can't you go sit down at least," Ni-ki's voice breaks his thoughts once more. Jake merely rolled his eyes, waving off the boy who looked exasperated by his presence.

"Yah, whatever. You're just bitter 'cause you’re bitchless," Jake began to tease, watching as the younger boy rolled his eyes and discretely flipped him off without the other customers taking note.

There was a familiar jingle from the door, Ni-ki's eyes looking past him to greet whoever walked in but his face turned into one of visible disgust. Immediately making his way in your direction without a word, Jake curiously turned around with his brows frowned to see what caused such a reaction.

A small scoff left Jake's lips, watching Minjun b-line to where you were behind the bar with Ni-ki glued to your side and staring him down like a guard dog. A small smirk picks at his lips, Jake waiting patiently, watching from afar to see what he planned on saying as you'd be able to handle it yourself.

"___," Minjun spoke, attempting to gain your attention but you merely lifted your gaze for a second as you focused on the drinks you had sequenced. "Can we talk?"

"I'm busy," You said dryly, sending him a pointed look as you were on shift quite literally in the middle of working. "If you need something you can ask my other staff to help you,"

"Are you seriously going to ignore me?"

"Are you seriously showing up to my job when I told you to leave me alone?" You shot back, brow raising in disbelief. "It's harassment, do you want me to call the cops?"

Minjun bit his lip, seemingly collecting his thoughts to carefully piece what he intended to say next. "You're ignoring my texts, how else am I supposed to talk to you?"

"I blocked you," You answer with a small shrug. "I don't want to talk to you. We have no reason to either way, it was your idea to move on with our lives in the first place so I don't see what you need from me now,"

"It was a mistake," Minjun attempts but a loud scoff comes from your end at his words. Feeling yourself grow more and more annoyed, you take a second to collect your thoughts, having to silently remind yourself that there were a handful of other customers that you still needed to be portrayed to in a professional light.

Your eyes flickered to the left, feeling the familiar gaze boring into your side. You met Jake's look, his brows slightly pinched as he held an unreadable expression glancing over Minjun. His arms were crossed against his chest, leaned against the front counter while his head tilted in the smallest of ways meeting your eyes. Silently indicating whether of not you wanted him to intervene, you shook your head, turning over to Ni-ki who was still on gaurd just a step behind you.

"Can you take over for me?" You ask the younger boy, his eyes softening as he glanced down to you with a small nod. Telling Sooyun the same, you leave the two on the floor to handle the customer flow and walk away from Minjun without a word. He attempted to follow along the counter that kept you separated, only to stop short noting how you met Jake at the break that separated the workers and customer side.

"You okay?" Jake asks softly, his hand finding its place in your own as he traced his thumb over your palm in attempt to offer some ease to your mind.

"I don't know why he keeps trying," You mumble out, swallowing the lump in your throat while Jake pursed his lips. You had to admit, no matter how unaffected you attempted to seem, having Minjun back and weaseling his way into your life was slowly opening up old wounds that never fully healed. It felt exhausting seeing his face, much less feeling trapped in your own workplace since that seemed to be his resort to finding you no matter how many hints you've given to leave you be.

"You want me to call the guys and we can jump him out back?" Jake offers, the teasing in his voice caused you to laugh though the glint in his eyes made it hard for you to tell if he was entirely joking. "I could take him on my own but I'm sure Jay wants a few hits at him anyway,"

"So does Ni-ki," You snicker, glancing over to the boy who had his eyes trained on Minjun with a menacing glare. "I don't have the money to bail all seven of you out though so let's not do that,"

A cocky smile fell upon Jake's lips knowing well enough his next words would cause you to grimace. "It's okay baby, I'm rich remember?"

You roll your eyes but couldn't refrain from the small laugh that fell from your lips. "You're annoying," You huff, though the giggle that filtered through your words had Jake smiling from ear to ear. Leaning closer, he's quick to place a kiss to your lips, your eyes widening as you pulled away with a tsk. "I'm on the clock, stop making me look like a bad worker,"

"No one's looking," Jake reassures, not even sparing a glance around the room but he's sure of himself. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you in closer and technically he was right, the large pastry case and stack of boxes that you had yet to be able to put away had blocked a significant amount of view of where you two stood, someone would have had to come around the corner to see you two if they really wanted to.

A clear of someone's throat caused the two of you to pull away from the giddy bubble you were in. Your annoyance flooded back in a second while Jake lazily looked over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up taking note of Minjun who stood with a dark expression.

"What's up man?" Jake smiled, turning as he said so but still keeping one arm draped around your waist though you shifted slightly in your spot. His grip tightened feeling how you attempted to move, squeezing your hip as a silent way to tell you to stay in place at his side. "You need something?"

"Can you give us a minute?" Minjun's words were short and clipped, the visible annoyance dripping from his persona.

"Don't think so," He hummed with the click of his tongue. "M'names Jake," Holding out his hand with a cheeky smile, Jake waited for Minjun to introduce himself. You had to refrain from the laugh that wanted to spill from your lips, the obviously annoying but polite tactic one you wouldn't have guessed he'd play but it seemed to work better than being possessive or immediately hostile.

"Minjun," Was all he replied with, not bothering to complete the handshake Jake intended. Turning his gaze to you, he near pleaded in a softer tone. "Can we just talk?"

Jake let out a loud sigh, dropping his hand with the shake of his head. "You know, man, I wouldn't have held nothing against you but you're really making my girl uncomfortable," His previous bubbly expression was gone, now replaced with a bored one that shamelessly glanced over Minjun. "You know me personally, I don't go for girls I broke up with, especially after she told me to leave her alone and she has a new man. That's just me though,"

"No offense man, but I know you two just got together. Your new relationship doesn't compare to us," Minjun shrugs while you let out a laugh of disbelief. You and Jake were more comfortable together, by miles, in a short amount of time even if your relationship was based on a facade. After the first two months with Minjun, it felt as though you were walking on eggshells everyday to keep him around, a feeling you remember all too well and ridicule yourself for staying in for so long.

"I mean, you're the ex for a reason right? Our relationship s’not supposed to be like yours," Jake shrugs, a humorless laugh left his lips.

"You guys don't even make sense together!" Minjun was now speaking to you, gesturing between you both with an exasperated expression. "His life is completely different from yours and you know it, why waste time now when it won't even work out,"

You frowned yours brows, not knowing how much he had looked into Jake but either way, being so ambient on your differences seemed to rub you the wrong way. What exactly was he entailing? The fact that Jake was a party guy or he was rich? You grew up attached to the hip with Jay, sure you weren't directly apart of that life but you did know how to act with a cocktail dress and dinning etiquette when you needed to. You truly lacked nothing if the relationship was real and so far, Jake didn't either.

"It's cute to know you've been thinking about me," Before you were able to voice your thoughts, Jake beat you to it. His tone was teasing, though there was a slight edge to it indicating that the cat and mouse play going back and forth was something he began to grow tired of. His had squeezed your hip, somehow subconsciously knowing that your agitation grew as well, it a silent reminder that he was there for you.

Minjun scoffed, seemingly ready to retort but Jake shook his head. "You know, I don't really like being a dick and all," He starts, a small huff of air leaving his lips as if it pained him to continue. Jake's eyes flickered to you, he winked before the bored look was sent back toward Minjun. "But I do take advantage of the benefits that come from my family. Let's just make it easier on all of us since getting the lawyers involved is always so messy, yeah?"

Your eyes widened slightly, certainly not having any thought of any legal precedent but the threat should've been more than enough to get his point across. You felt a shiver run up your spine, thinking back to weeks ago when you got yourself into the situation you were now. She totally would've sued me.

There was a clear of the throat that broke the tension between you three. Ni-ki making his presence known as he sends Minjun a rather large, but most obviously fake, smile.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave since I've had a few customer complaints from the situation that's occurring," He says in his peppy customer service voice, the faux sympathy in his tone adding salt to the wound. Looking around, you take note of the lie considering the lobby had cleared out significantly and not a single person in sight was paying any mind to what was occurring in the corner but you were certainly thankful for the deescalation.

Minjun doesn't say a word. His eyes lock with yours, the silent communication causing you to feel uneasy. For a split second, you almost felt bad for him seeing the look of pleading sincerity, for a second he seemed like the boy you once knew and you couldn't deny the slight tug in your heart that longed for the past. But as Jakes’ hand made its presences know on your back, you shook out of the temporary daze, you subtly moved behind him, using Jake as a shield of sorts and looking away.

You weren't naive enough to fall for that. And your thoughts proved right as Minjun's expression changed in an instant, the look of anger and annoyance familiar but he merely turned and made his way out of the shop without hesitation.

The bitter feeling caused your stomach to turn, picking at the skin of your fingers as you pulled out your phone to check the time.

"You okay noona?" Ni-ki carefully asked, His brows were pinched, a slight frown at his lips taking note of your visibly discomfort.

You nod, placing a smile on your features but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You looked behind him, seeing Sooyun working by herself. "I'm alright, I need to finish my pull before Hejin comes in so support where you can for now," You delegate, already heading toward the back room while footsteps followed soon after.

Jake sighed watching you walk away. He didn't know the full story, certainly didn't want to know the details of how in love you were, but he did know that Minjun was important enough to still bother you after some time apart. A small part of him was selfish, never wanting you to think of anyone like that but him, even though your relationship wasn't even real in the first place, but he knew that was his own jealousy.

The larger part of him felt upset for you though, the crestfallen expression you held more than enough for him to want to hold you and wash all your worries away. In a perfect world, Jake would make sure you'd never feel sad again. He vows to never be the one responsible for your tears, and if he were he'd kick himself and beg for the room in your heart to forgive him.

You stopped by the back freezer, facing the stainless steel doors and you could see Jake's reflection behind you. "I'm alright," You repeat, not having the confidence to turn around knowing your eyes were glossing over and the lump in your throat grew.

Jake hummed, watching you from afar. He watched as you began to count the frozen pastries, having to go over twice losing your train of thought and seemingly looking around aimlessly. You let out a sigh, leaning your head against the frozen rack as you shut your eyes, the cold air that wrapped around your body caused goosebumps to form along your arms, though it did well in stopping the tears that were built up to the brim.

"You know, you're technically not supposed to be back here," You mumble, a hint of amusement in your words though you were rather dejected.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head while you couldn't see it. The two of you stood in silence, not knowing what to say that would make it better. Heavy footsteps sounded as someone entered the back of the house, you peaking from behind the freezer door while Jake straightened up.

Hejin pointed a finger at you as she pulled her apron over her head. Your brows frowned, clicking on the tablet that was stuck to the door to see it only be 5:50. Her keys jangled in her pocket, the lollipop in her mouth muffling her words. "Go home,"

"What?" You let out a small laugh, amused by the loud groan she let out upon her apron getting stuck while pulling it down. "It's not 6:30,"

"I'm here now so go," Hejin huffs, pulling at her ponytail as she nods towards Jake, a silent acknowledgment to his presence but not bothering to ask why he was beside you. "I saw creeps-a-lot in the parking lot. The kid and Sooyun were blowing up my phone to get me here so I chased him away. Go home and relax, I'll make a incident report to let everyone and Mama Cho know to not talk about you and refuse him service from now on,"

Your lips pull into a frown, the tears once again welding up in your eyes. You covered your face out of embarrassment, Hejin clicking her tongue as she waved you off.

"Ay, don't cry," She tuts. "He's not worth it, new boyfriend hug her!" Hejin directs, gesturing between you and Jake causing you to let out a laugh. Jake tilted his head, his arms open as you reluctantly stepped into his embrace. You refused to look at him directly, hiding behind your hands though you could see the fondness in his expression as he stared down at you. "Good, now get out of here. Pretty girls should never cry over ugly men,"

With that, Hejin was out onto the floor. You stifled your laughter, heart pulling at the thought of your work family. She, in particular, was known to be rough around the edges, not one to show praise or direct affection but small acts like these were truly the most meaningful. You made a mental note to treat them in the future, thankful for the saving grace.

Jake pulled away from the hug slight, a small smile perking at his lips as he tilted his head. He gently pulled away your hands from your face, wiping away the few stray tears with the same fond look.

"You know, I don't know how to feel about you crying over another man," He teased causing you to roll your eyes. "Guess I have a lot of work to do to make you forgive him,"

"Forgive?" You echo, raising a brow not following his words.

Jake nods. "You know, for being an idiot but at least it allowed for me and you which is like, a million times better," He says in the most obvious voice causing you to snicker. "Forgive but not forget, or whatever it is that people say,"

"Have you been looking at pinterest quotes?" You laugh while Jake begins to nod wholeheartedly.

"You put me on, it's honestly so chill scrolling. I have like, five different boards I've made so far,"

"Rookie numbers," You tease causing him to mock offense.

"They all have certain aesthetics and are listed in order," He offers causing you to hum.

You nod in approval. "Better,"

Noting that your mood had seem to raise, Jake leans in, placing a small peck to the tip of your nose causing you to let out a small squeal. Your face scrunches up, pulling away from him while he lets out a laugh.

"C'mon, you owe me your time and I think I have the perfect idea to get your pretty little mind off everything,"

"YOU’RE JOKING?"

"What?"

You sent Jake a pointed look, smiling down at the excited animal that jumped into your arms, licking the skin of your cheek while your heart nearly bursted at the sight of her tail wagging so happily. "We've been faking it for over a month and you decided to just tell me you had a dog?"

"Her name's Layla," He laughs, crouching down to the level which you were sat on the floor. As soon as you walked into the door of the unfamiliar apartment, you were greeted by soft paws jumping at your leg along with excited barks for attention. "This is my brother's place, she's a family dog but he has her most of the time since my parents are always out of town. He's on a trip with his friends so he asked me to watch her for the week," Jake cooed as he pet Laylas fur, eyes full of affection and love as she leaned into his touch.

“I’ll watch her for the week,” You smile, gaining her attention once more as you scratched at the spot just behind Laylas’ ears. Her eyes shut as you did so, a small giggle leaving your lips as the dog visibly relaxed to your petting. “I’ll keep her company while you party or whatever you do in that frat house,”

Jake rolled his eyes, his view set on you but you were far too focused on Layla to care. “I haven’t gone to a party in weeks, and if I do you’re with me,” He says pointedly as you merely hum.

“Exactly, you can go do what you want. I’ll stay here with the cutest little puppy I’ve ever seen,” The latter half of your sentence was spoken in a high voice, cooing at Layla who seemed to be happily responsive to it.

Though he liked seeing how well you got along with his childhood pet, Jake tsked. Maybe it was a bad idea bringing you to see her, all of your attention would go to the little border collie instead of him which, admittedly, he couldn’t have.

“What I want,” Jake starts, leaning over to flood your view. “Is for you to not love my dog more than me,” He finished, dangerous close to your lips as you blinked, a small snort leaving your lips.

“Well for one, I barely tolerate you so Layla wins by a long shot,” You tease causing his lips to pout. Lightly pushing Jake away, he ends up sitting directly in front of you, Layla happily pouncing into his lap but still begging for you to provide her with scratches as she rolled over onto her back to expose her stomach. “And two, you can’t be jealous over your own dog. She’s just too cute,”

Jake sighed half heartedly. “You kicking me to the curb now for my dog?”

“Precisely,” You nod, a wide grin playing at your lips that you were unable to resist. It was still between the two of you for a moment, Jake taking the silence to gently place Layla down onto the ground beside you. You rose a brow, noting how he inched closer causing you to move back. “Hey~”

His arms were suddenly thrown around your body, one around your waist while the other was behind your head, blocking the impact of him suddenly tackling you to the hardwood floor. Your laughter filled the air, arms stuck under the weight of his chest and your faces inches apart.

“Too bad, you’re not allowed to get rid of me,” Jake huffs though there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “Say you like me more,”

You gaped in disbelief. “Are you serious?” The response to your question ended up with Jake’s fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, your shirt riding up and him knowing how ticklish you were as you began to squirm beneath him. “H-hey! Okay, s-stop—”

“Say it,” Jake taunts, his laughter mixing with yours.

“O-okay—”

Layla’s loud barks suddenly broke the air before the view of her jumping onto Jake’s head was seen. Your laughs were now from seeing how he yelped at the sudden help you received, rolling off of your body and with Layla still attacking his face with an abundance of kisses, you sat up. Now straddling Jake’s waist, you returned the favor of poking your fingers into his side, moving until you found a spot by his ribs that caused him to squirm around.

“Hey! You can’t team up against me,” Jake called out, unable to move either of you due to the way you sat and how Layla was now perched on his chest to get a better angle of sloppy kisses that he attempted to block. “She’s trying to lick my nose! Baby please—”

“What? I’m giving you attention like you wanted,”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @enczen @vanvity @dreamiestay @caitysdelusions @ikkeumyluv @v3lv3tsin

#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #jake sim #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #enhypen series #jake enhypen #enha series #enhypen jaeyun #enha masterlist #enhypen masterlist

158 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

New Year's Second Chance {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.5k

Warnings: Animosity, hostility, heartbreak, technically step-sibling relationship, angst, domestic violence (one slap), smoking, hate sex?, idiots in love, fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), hints of anilingus, biting, mixed emotions

Comments: Coming home for the holidays was not. something you were looking forward to. Especially not when you realize that Javier Peña will be there. Your mother is happily married to his father, but you hate Javier. For a good reason, or so you think

A/N: Happy New Year!!!

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.

“Welcome to Laredo.” You groan as you drive past the sign of your hometown, feeling a little sick. It’s the holidays and you’ve tried to stay away for as long as possible but you ran out of excuses. Your mom is married to Chucho Peña. Has been married to him for a few years and you have successfully avoided the wedding, the holidays, and every event in between. Your work overseas has provided a bounty of excuses but now, you’ve been reassigned back to the U.S and the lie has run its course. You offered to stay in a hotel but your mom insists on you staying at the house. Once you’ve pulled up outside the Peña ranch, your mom comes rushing out, screaming your name and wrapping you in a hug that you can only describe as coming home. You smile and breathe her in, “hi mom.”

She grins when she pulls back to look at you, her eyes a little watery. “Come on, let’s get you inside. You must be hungry and tired after all that traveling.” She ushers you in and you look around, “where’s Chucho?” You ask and she smiles, “he went out to get some things.”

You nod and she gets to work on making you something to eat. You just finish your sandwich when the garage door opens and Chucho walks in, setting the grocery bags on the counter and you stand up. The old man grins and wraps his arms around you. You've always liked him. Your dad died when you were young and you worried your mom would be alone until she struck up her friendship with Chucho at a grief counseling meeting at the local church. He put the light back in her eyes and you thank him for that. “It’s good to see you.” You murmur when he releases you and you don’t see the younger Peña until he says “what? No hug for me.” Your hackles go up, your spine straightens, and you swallow harshly. “What the hell is he doing here?” You ask, knowing that your mom told you he was still in Colombia taking down the Cali cartel.

Javier frown. Unsure why you hate him so much. “Honey, be nice! Javi just got back earlier. He wrapped up his little case so he flew in to join us.” Only your mom could call taking down one of the biggest drug cartels a “little case”.

“That’s great.” You say sarcastically. “Glad he could make it.”

Javier huffs, setting the bags he was carrying down on the counter. “Don’t worry, Chiquita. I’ll be down the hall for the next two weeks.” He smirks, “maybe longer. I ain’t got nowhere to go now I’m back from Colombia.” He goads you and you want to stomp your foot like a child.

“Gee, that’s great. One big happy family.” You sass, “aren’t we lucky?” You ask your mom who raises her eyebrows at you in silent warning. You didn’t know Javier would be here. If you did, you would’ve avoided coming back to Laredo for another three years. “I am going to take a shower and get unpacked.” You declare, asking your mom which room you’re staying in and she glances at Chucho before she shows you down the hall to the room you’re staying in. The one right next to Javier’s childhood bedroom.

Growling to yourself, you toss the bags down onto the bed and sigh. You hate Javier, can’t stand being around him. Arrogant and prideful, cocky and worse - a womanizer. Man thinks that he can flirt with and fuck any woman he wants and it’s disgusting. If you hadn’t promised your mom that you would stay through the New Year, you would be heading back to the airport right now. As it is, you will just have to ignore Javi. No doubt he will be too busy plowing through the single and unhappily married women in town, if he didn’t fuck them the last time he was here.

Chucho tuts as Javier glares at where you just stood. “What’s the issue between the two of you?” He asks and Javier shakes his head. “I don’t even know, Pa. We were friends. Back in the day and she - she just turned one day and was mean to me. I don’t even know what I did.” He confesses and your mom raises her eyebrows, knowing his reputation even back then. “I swear, I have no fucking clue.” He shakes his head, but he knows that he won’t put up with your shit.

In your room, you unpack quickly and decide that you want to take a shower. Knowing that you hadn’t been very cordial to Javier, but you don’t have it in you. You want nothing to do with him, and you’re stuck with him for the entire holiday. You’ll just be as pleasant as you can and your mom will have to realize that her fantasy for a family holiday is nothing more than a pipe dream.

Javier decides to settle back into his room. He only arrived back a couple of days ago and he hasn’t had a chance to unpack with the whirlwind of chores his Pa had assigned to him as soon as he arrived back in Laredo. He decides to shower before he heads out with his Pa to get the shopping list your mom assigned for dinner and he does like your mom. She’s been good for his dad. Makes sure the place is clean, that he has a homemade dinner, and that he is happy. His Pa looks after your mom, loves her, and that makes Javi happy. He feels better knowing that his dad is happy. Deciding to shower, he grabs his toiletry bag and heads into the hallway, opening the bathroom door and he’s shocked when he sees you standing in the shower.

You squeal in surprise when the door opens and grab the shower curtain to rip it around your body. “What is wrong with you?” You scream when he doesn’t immediately turn around and leave. “Close the door!” It infuriates you that you haven’t been here an hour and Javi is already pushing boundaries and pissing you off. You wish you had never come here.

Javier slams the door shut, his eyes wide and he realizes this is gonna be a long two weeks around you. You used to be friends. Good friends. He doesn’t know what happened. Kinda chalked it down to you being jealous of Lorraine when he got with her and proposed and then he went to Colombia after that shit show. Which was strange since you had stood him up the night he got back together with her the last time. Heading back to his room, he decides to wait until you’re done before he attempts to leave the sanctuary of his room.

Locking the door, you turn on the shower and climb in. Closing your eyes and sighing as you lean against the tiled wall. Fuck. Why, why, why, do you have to be stuck in this house with Javi? The bad thing is that the bastard looks good. Colombia hadn’t been bad to him. He’s more handsome than ever, maybe a little worn down, but he still looks good. That pisses you off more than anything. You remember being so fucking excited that night and then so heartbroken.

Javier sighs when he hears you leave the bathroom and close the door to the guest room. He makes his way into the bathroom and it smells like your body lotion. He inhales deeply. His cock twitching at the thought of smelling it on your skin. He turns on the shower and gets in a few moments later, cursing the fact that his cock is getting hard

After getting dressed, you feel better, leaving the guest bedroom and going to the kitchen. “Okay, I’m unpacked and feeling better after a shower.” You promise, giving your mom another hug. “I’ve missed you.” You tell her, even though you’ve avoided coming home in order to not see Javi since your mother got involved with Chucho.

Your mom smiles, kissing your cheek. "I missed you so much baby. So much. I - it's been so long. I feel like it's been a lifetime since I last saw you. You - I've been married to Chucho for three years." She reminds you of your absence.

You had known she was going to guilt you. “I know mom, I’m sorry, I’ve been busy with work.” You tell her. It’s not a lie, you just don’t admit that you asked for assignments during the holidays so you didn’t have to come here. “I’ll try to do better.”

Your mom nods, knowing you’ve been busy. “Why are you and Javier butting heads? You used to be good friends. What happened?” She asks with a concerned frown. Before you can answer, the man in question comes into the kitchen, hair wet and buttoned slightly open as he opens the fridge to grab a bottle of beer.

“Nothing.” You shrug slightly, not willing to give Javi the satisfaction of knowing that he still here under your skin. “We’re just….different people.” You settle for that and ignore the snort as he twists open his beer bottle and takes a swig.

Your mom frowns but nods, not wanting to escalate the issue when you’re in front of Javi. She doesn’t understand why you’re mad at him after so many years of not seeing him. “So…are we going to go grocery shopping?” You ask your mom who nods and Javi smirks, kinda wanting to push your buttons. “I’ll come with.” He says and smirks when you huff.

“So we’re buying cigarettes and booze?” You snort, rolling your eyes. “I think that’s about the limit of your cooking abilities, right?” You have no hope that he had learned any skills since you last ate with him.

Javier snorts, “you ain’t wrong there, sweetheart. Can make toast and eggs for the ladies that spend the night but that’s about it. I’m hopeless.” He declares and sips his beer after opening it.

You grind your teeth, irritated that you are affected by that. “Probably want them to make you breakfast.” You huff, looking over at your mom again. “When do you want to go? Might as well get it over with since we will have a tag-along.”

Javier smirks, loving how he can annoy you. He is going to take great pleasure in doing it again and again during your visit. “We can go now.” Your mom suggests and Javier nods, downing the bottle of beer until he’s tossing it in the trash and adjusting his too-tight jeans.

“Let’s go ladies.” He says and winks at you as he makes his way out into the garage.

“Kill me now.” You huff, rolling your eyes. You shouldn’t have come, you should have known that Javi would be home since he had been suspended. Grabbing your purse, you go out into the garage. “Oh hell no.” You shake your head when you see him sitting in the passenger seat of your mom’s Buick. “I sit up front. You get your ass in the back.”

Javier looks at your mom, giving her those puppy eyes that always got him what he wanted as a kid. “Oh honey, just get in the back.” Your mom says and you growl under your breath while Javier gives you a victorious grin. Your mom is soon driving away from the ranch, you grumbling in the back, and Javier smirks at you in the mirror, loving to see you so annoyed.

You don’t talk on the way to the grocery store, sulking in the back seat like a child and even crossing your arms at one point. You hate Javi, hate him. “Fucking ridiculous.” You mutter to yourself.

He bites his lip to smother his chuckle, loving how annoyed you are. And when you arrive at the store, Javier gets out and grabs the cart for your mom. “Thanks sweetheart.” She smiles at him and you follow along, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“Is that Javier Peña?” A middle aged woman asks and comes over with a grin on her face. “Oh boy. You’ve grown up since you used to mow my yard when you were seventeen.” She says with a blush and Javier chuckles, “all grown up now, Señora Alvarez.”

“All grown up and no manners.” You mumble under your breath and walk over to the bananas to make sure there are plenty at the house. You eat one every morning for potassium. Javi and the old woman continue chatting and pretty soon you hear a girlish giggle from the older woman and roll your eyes. He’s obviously turned on the charm and started flirting with the elderly woman. There’s no one he wouldn’t flirt with apparently.

Your mom rolls the cart over to you and nudges your arm. “He is kinda cute all grown up. He’s not as flighty as he used to be. Always seemed to feel like he struggled to keep his feet on the ground in one place. I guess going to Colombia cured him of the travel bug.” She guesses, “suppose that’s why he didn’t marry Lorraine.”

“Good for her.” You snort. “She got lucky. I can’t imagine she would be happy with her husband trying to lift every skirt he sees.” You don’t know why he didn’t marry Lorraine, or why you should care. It’s nothing to you.

Your mom nods, “she wasn’t happy when he left her standing at the aisle and had his friend Frankie give the bride a note detailing his departure to go to the DEA academy. Guess she was against him going. Wanted him to stay and work in her daddy’s construction company. He wanted to do something for the world and she got stood up. Guess they met in some bar…the Old Rodeo.” Your mom recalls the story Chucho told her.

“Yeah….” Your nose curls at the name. “It’s a shit bar. Nothing but losers went there.” You remember the bar pretty damn well, but your mother doesn’t know that. “Anyway…. I don’t care about Javier. Tell me how you are doing?” You beg. “How are things with Chucho? Is he treating you right? If he’s not, I’m going to have to talk to him.”

Your mom smiles the type of smile you have when you’re totally in love. She looks giddy. There’s a light in your eyes that you’re kind of jealous of. “He’s amazing. Sure, we have little disagreements, mainly about him doing too much damn work. But he’s so kind and caring. He loves me and we both agreed that our marriage would never be compared to our previous ones. Your dad was the love of my life and Maria was his but…I love him. He makes me happy.” She promises with a girlish giggle.

“That’s all that matters.” You murmur softly. Despite your feelings about his son, Chucho is a good man and your mother deserves to be happy after so much time. You had told her that she couldn’t be a widow forever, she lost your father way too young to spend the rest of her life alone. “I hope I can find someone who treats me that way one day.” You frown slightly, remembering the last girlish crush you had and how those hopes and daydreams had been crushed. Shaking yourself out of it, you shrug. “What all do we need to get? Are you having a New Year’s party this year?” Your entire childhood, your parents had thrown amazing New Year’s parties, rivaled by none in your opinion.

Your mom smiles, “yeah. Chucho and I decided to continue the tradition. His nephew Danny is gonna bring a tent over to set up in the back and my friend Ellen is going to cater. I’m getting too old to do the food all by myself. Plenty of booze and food and one of the local kids is going to DJ.” Your mom says, knowing this year will be the best yet. “For now, we need to get a ham, potatoes, all the usual. Oh and a dessert or two. I was thinking pie.” She says and glances around, “where did Javier go?” She asks and the man in question appears with a six pack of beer and a pack of condoms. “The essentials.” He smirks at you and you scoff.

“I do not want to hear the pathetic faked moans of whatever floozy you bring home.” You point at him. “I swear to God, Javier, if you wake me up, I’ll kill you.” You promise hotly. You can’t even imagine having sex at your mom and Chucho’s house, just a respectful thing. Granted, you hadn’t had sex in a long time, a really long time, but still. Javi smirks and you roll your eyes. “So is the beer for the girls to get drunk enough to want to have sex with you?”

Javier chuckles and shakes his head, “it’s for refreshment after they lose their voice from moaning too much.” He’s messing with you. Like he’d bring a woman back to the house with you next door and his dad and your mom down the hall. Absolutely not. He chuckles when you wrinkle your nose and he leans in closer while your mom inspects the vegetables. “You just wish it was you in my bed.” He taunts you, wanting to wind you up even more.

You cut your eyes over at him and sneer. “In your fuckin’ dreams, Peña.” You huff. “I wouldn’t be in your bed if you paid me. And I heard there was quite a bit of payment in Colombia.” You smirk. “Expensing out getting your dick wet.”

Javier narrows his eyes, “saved lives. Took down Escobar. That’s all that matters in the end.” He hisses, still sensitive about getting sent back before he could be the one to slap the cuffs on the bastard. “Besides, I doubt you’ve had anyone come near you with that sour face.” He spits, getting defensive.

It cuts deeper than you imagined and you hate how he can still get to you after everything. “At least I can say that anyone who fucked me did it because they wanted to. I didn’t pay and I don’t give a shit what you think of me. Your opinion means shit.”

Javier growls under his breath just as your mom comes over with the chips. “Everything okay?” She asks and Javier grins, “just peachy.” He says to her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m gonna go get some things.” Javier says, stalking off and away from you before he says something else.

“Are you two fighting again?” Your mom asks, exasperated by the angry tension between the two of you.

“Nope.” You shake your head and turn to see someone turning onto the aisle and you freeze. A flashback to years ago running through your mind. A petite blonde rushing up to Javier and jumping into his arms with a squeal and an enthusiastic kiss. Your stomach knots up and you grab your purse. “I - I need to get some air.” You manage to choke out before you turn and run away. Not wanting to see the woman Javi had thrown you over for.

“Lorraine?” Javi chokes a little at seeing his ex. Sure he’d seen her at Danny’s wedding but that was a few years ago.

“Hey Javier.” She says stiffly, still pissed at him for jilting her despite having her family and rich husband.

“How you been?” He asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Good. You’re with her?” She jerks her chin at your retreating form and Javier sighs, shaking his head.

“She still hates me.” He reveals and Lorraine scoffs, “she didn’t used to.”

Javier nods, heart aching a little, “yeah, well, it was good to see you. Happy Holidays.” He says and stalks off to find your mom who had left him to talk.

Out in the parking lot, you bite your lip and lean next to the car. Digging into your purse for a cigarette, you had sworn you were quitting, but you need one. Actually you need a stiff drink but the smoke would have to do. Suddenly thinking about memories better left buried.

****

“So you wanna go out? The Old Rodeo?” The easy smirk in Javi’s face makes your cunt clench. There’s nothing good in that smirk and you love it. “Get something to eat and a lot to drink?” He winks outrageously and does this little move with his thumb around his mouth to bring your eyes to them. Not that you don’t often think about kissing him. “See what happens? I’m crazy for not asking you sooner.”

It’s what you’ve always wanted to hear and you know you are putty in his hand. You always have been, but friends are what you’ve been until this moment. “Of course we can.” You hum, grinning. “I’ll find out what drives the women crazy about the area Lothario.”

Javier remembers that night. The night he was supposed to meet you. He was ready to tell you how he felt, see what happened between you, but you hadn’t shown up. Lorraine approached him that day, his on again off again girlfriend that was off on the day he asked you out but seeing her that afternoon, she wanted to give it another chance and he went with what was comfortable and known after you had blown him off. He was terrified to fuck up your friendship and he was going to tell you that. To explain it, but you didn’t answer your phone and you never let him explain what happened. He regrets that day, regrets going back to Lorraine who ultimately found out on their wedding day why Javier was supposed to meet you. He couldn't marry her. Not when he was in love with you back then. You hate him now and he pretends to hate you.

By the time your mother comes out, you’ve crushed your cigarette out and spritzed yourself with some Sweet Pea body spray. Even though you’re a grown ass woman, your mother doesn’t know that you used to smoke and when she pushes the buggy closer, you shove a stick of gum in your mouth. “Please tell me that you didn’t pay for his beer and rubbers?” You ask your mom, taking the keys from her and opening the trunk.

Your mom shakes her head, “that’s all he got, sweetheart.” She explains just as Javier comes out of the grocery store and over to the car.

“Thanks for getting those things.” Javier says to your mom and kisses her cheek before he starts to load the car.

Huffing, you roll your eyes and barely resist the urge to slam the trunk closed on his hands. Instead of commenting, you place the eggs and the bread on top and take the cart. “I’ll return it.” You mutter, more for your mother than Javi. You just know he would be the type to not return it to the cart corral.

Javier gets in the car, the front seat again, and you huff as you get in behind him. He turns to look at you as your mom starts to drive out of the parking lot. “Do you smell smoke?” He asks your mom, sniffing, and he leans closer to you, “did you just smoke?”

You jerk back, scowling at him and wishing to hell you had never met Javier Peña. “No! What is wrong with you? Stop sniffing me, you pervert.” You hiss, shooting him a deadly glare. “Just because you smell like the inside of an ashtray doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Javier chuckles and shakes his head, “whatever, Chiquita. You tell yourself what you wanna believe.” He scoffs and then he smirks, “besides, you know that smoking is bad for you. Don’t want anything bad to happen to my step sister.” He feigns concern, knowing he will rile you up.

“I am not your step sister.” You hiss, even though you know that you technically are. “Well, honey….” Your mom interrupts and you sigh.

“Mom, please. The last thing I want is to be associated with this asshole, let alone related to him. Just let me pretend. Chucho is amazing, but I don’t know how he turned out like he did.” You huff, pointing at Javier.

Javier is a little hurt by your jab. His dad is a great man, one he could only aspire to be. His unwavering loyalty and dedication is something that he could wish for but fall short every time. “Whatever. Your mom clearly didn’t raise you to be like her. She’s not a bitch.” He hits back, crossing his arms as he stares out of the window.

You hiss out an angry breath and try not to let him get to you. It hurts, but you’ve been a bitch, being a bitch is better than letting him hurt you. “Okay you two.” Your mom sighs, driving you all home. “Please just get along for the holidays?” She begs.

“Fine.” You decide. “I have no problem ignoring him for the holiday.”

Javier snorts, shaking his head but not saying anything else. He doesn’t understand why you hate him so much. He hasn’t done anything to you. He has no idea why you started hating him when he got with Lorraine. You hadn’t even shown up for your date that night. You were his best friend once.

The rest of the trip is spent in silence and you wonder how the hell you can cut this trip short and get out of spending any more time with Javier than you have to. When you get to the house, you jump out and start immediately unloading the groceries, shoving Javi's bags into his hands. "Got the rest, go do whatever."

Javier frowns but doesn’t argue. He’s sick of arguing. He takes his things into the house and puts the beers in the fridge before taking the condoms to his room. He feels like a teenager again. Awkward and unsure. You make him feel like that. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and he doesn’t know what to do about spending those days with his family. He decides to avoid it for as long as he can so he grabs the keys to his truck and decides to go for a drink at the dive bar he used to frequent before he left Laredo.

You’re unloading the groceries when you hear the truck start up and you sigh in relief. “Thank God.” You murmur, even though your stomach twists in guilt. Feeling like you’ve run Javi off.

“What happened between you two?” Your mother demands but you just shake your head.

“Mom, please, I don’t want to talk about it.” You beg. “I just- I don’t like him, okay? End of story.”

Your mom sighs but nods, “just - just try to make the best of it, okay sweetheart? It’s Christmas.” She says and you nod, unable to agree verbally.

****

Javier returns to the ranch around 2am. He had met a girl - someone new in town - and Javier flirts but it doesn’t feel right. He frowns when she invites him back to her place and usually he’d say yes but for some reason, he can’t do it. Instead, he heads home and gets into bed without disturbing anyone.

You're sitting on the porch when the truck comes creeping up the drive with the lights off. Sneaking in. You snort to yourself when Javi doesn’t even see you on the porch when he slips into the house. Making you wonder where he had spent the night. Reminding yourself that you shouldn’t care. When you slip back in the house, you hear Javi starting to snore in his bedroom and you huff to yourself. With Chucho’s snoring in the bedroom he shares with your mom, it’s pretty apparent that snoring runs in the family. You climb back into your bed, wondering if you just need to go home, let them enjoy the holiday without you.

The next morning, Javier comes in to find your mom cooking breakfast, a groan escaping his lips when she puts a cup of coffee in his hand. “You are too good to me.” He tells her with a grin and a wink, “thanks.” He sits down at the table and reaches for the pack of smokes he left there.

When you shuffle into the kitchen, you narrow your eyes at the cigarette that is in Javier's hand. Craving it and finding it hypocritical that the bastard would bust your balls about smoking and he is puffing on one right in front of your mother and his dad. "Morning." You huff, moving over to your mom to give her a kiss and to take the coffee mug that she is holding out for you. "Thank you."

Javier watches you until his Pa gets his attention. “Let’s get the animals all fed early today so we aren’t dealing with them tonight or tomorrow morning.” Javier nods, knowing that his dad will want to relax for Christmas Eve dinner and tomorrow. “Sure thing, Pa.”

Sighing softly in relief, you relax when you realize that Javier won't be hovering all day. "Mom, I'll help you get everything ready, sound good?" you ask after taking a sip of the hot brew. "You shouldn't have to do all the cooking."

Your mom nods, “thank you, darling. Don’t be silly about spending the whole day helping me. I want you to enjoy the holiday since you’re home. I’m so glad to have you home.” She says and reaches for you to wrap her arms around you. “I love you.” She murmurs, getting a little emotional and Javier looks away, feeling like he’s invading when you hug your mom back.

"I love you too." You murmur softly, squeezing her tight. "I'll enjoy my holiday as long as I'm with you." You promise. "I'll help you and then I'll go do some last minute shopping."

Your mom nods, smiling and grateful to have you here. She gestures to the table, “sit down. Breakfast is nearly ready.”

You sigh and then choke as you sit down next to Javier who is still smoking while he reads a section of the paper. “You know those things will kill you.” You remind him despite your hypocrisy.

“Not if you do first, baby.” He winks at you and takes another drag.

"Don't tempt me." You grumble under your breath and roll your eyes as you fix your plate. You'll eat and then concentrate on your coffee.

Javier grabs a piece of toast and bites into it obnoxiously, wanting to see you get annoyed with him. You may hate him but he loves to see you riled up. At least it’s emotion.

You remember the promise you made to yourself, rolling your eyes instead of commenting and taking a sip of your coffee. "Thanks for breakfast, mom. You are amazing."

Your mom grins, pleased at the praise and Javier nods, “you are a great cook. My dad and I struggled for years after my mom died to make something half edible. We even burned the toast.” He confesses and takes another bite of the toast.

You don't make a snide comment, knowing the loss of his mother was hard for Javi, and for Chucho. It would be beyond disgusting to insult that. You set your coffee down and pick up your fork to take a bite of the eggs.

Javier digs into the rest of breakfast, groaning at the food, and he realizes he hasn’t been this hungry in a long time. He swallows down each gulp like a man starved and he pushes the plate back after he finishes to rub his stomach. He didn’t eat much in Colombia, running on booze and coffee and cigarettes.

You don't comment on the fact that Javi wolfed down his food, not even looking over at him as you eat your own meal. "So I was thinking," you start. "Why don't I cook dinner, since you'll be busy working on Christmas dinner?" You offer.

Your mom shakes her head, “oh baby. No. No. I can’t do that. Honey, I need you to relax too. It’s your first holiday home in forever. Let me make it special for you.” She offers and Javier shakes his head, “I don’t mind helping.”

You snort and cut your gaze over to him. "What could you do?" You ask. "You just said that you burned toast. Why the hell would we want burnt food?"

“I can cut shit up.” He offers, “boil water. I don’t know. It’s a lot of work to do alone. I can be ordered around like a good boy.” He promises with a smirk, picking up his coffee cup.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "I doubt you've ever been a good boy." You huff. "No, I'm good. I don't think I want you around sharp knives. I might get confused and cut you."

Javier snorts, “more like stab me.” He says and you raise your eyebrows, “you said it.”

Your mom shakes her head, “I’ll cook. You kids just focus on being nice to each other.”

Chucho nods, “be nice, mijo.” He orders and Javier can’t argue with his father.

You smirk at Javi after his father tells him to be nice, barely resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him. "I told you mom, I'll be civil. That's the best I can offer."

Javier rolls his eyes and stands up, putting his plate in the sink along with his coffee cup and he stalks out of the room to get ready for a day on the ranch helping his dad have everything sorted so he can enjoy Christmas without worrying about the animals or the ranch.

It's sweet, watching Chucho lean over your mom and give her a kiss. Smiling softly and patting her cheek when he tells him that he will be back later. It's the kind of relationship that you had always wished for yourself but it wasn't to be.

It’s late afternoon and you’re in the kitchen helping your mom prepare dinner when Javi comes in. It’s a cold day for Texas but Javi has been fixing the mower when he spilled oil on his shirt. He pulls it off and leaves it on the porch in a pile, deciding to come inside shirtless so he can wash his hands.

Your mom is in her bedroom, stripping her sheets to wash and you are in the kitchen, prepping food. The radio is on, playing the top 10 countdown and you are singing along to the music. Dancing around as you mix the cookie dough up. Distracted to the point where you don't hear the back door open.

Javier stops in the kitchen, shirtless, and he grins as you shake your hips and sings to the music. “I didn’t know you could dance so well, Chiquita.” He compliments you with a chuckle and he crosses his arms, oily hands forgotten.

Yelping in surprise, you almost drop the bowl. "Shit!" You slam the bowl down and glare at Javi as he grins at you. "What the fuck are you doing? Sneaking up on me?"

“I came in to wash my hands. Got covered in oil and came in to see you dancing. I ain’t ever seen you dance like that before, Chiquita.” He smirks and hums, “actually…a few times back when we - well, when you didn’t hate me.”

You stiffen when he has the audacity to bring up that time. "Yeah, well there's a lot you haven't seen, Peña." You huff, reaching over and slapping off the radio. "And you won't see. So just wash your hands and get on with what you were doing."

He knows you’re mad at him and he kinda likes it. He walks over to sink, grabbing the soap to wash off his hands and you’re next to him, and he can smell your perfume. He leans in closer unconsciously drawn to you. His body pressing against you without thought.

"What the fuck are you doing?" It takes you a split second before you react to him leaning into you. Hating how your pulse jumps and your entire body seems to tighten in anticipation. You step back and look at him in disgust. "I'm not one of your fucking conquests. Don't touch me."

Javier pulls back instantly, the spell he was under is broken and he snarls at you, curling his upper lip. “You should be so lucky. My dick would get fucking bitten off by you.” He hisses and stalks into his bedroom to grab another shirt and hide his embarrassment. He doesn’t understand why you hate him so much. Especially not when he - when he was - well, it doesn’t matter now.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, shaking your head. "Fucking forget about him." You tell yourself quietly. "He just is a piece of shit who would break your heart again."

Javier sighs and pulls a clean shirt on before he heads back out to continue helping his dad. He is anxious about dinner later. Wondering if you’re gonna behave or if he’s gonna end up fighting with you. “Why do you fight with her?” Chucho asks his son as they finish up work.

“I- I fight with her because - well, it’s complicated. She hates me.” Javier reveals and Chucho shakes his head, “she doesn’t. I don’t see hate in her eyes. I see hurt. You need to talk to her, figure out what happened.”

When your mom comes back into the kitchen, you plaster a smile on your face and quickly escape. Taking your rental car and leaving the ranch to drive into town. Happy to escape and rolling the window down to smoke a cigarette as you drive. Blowing the smoke out of the car and sighing to yourself. Now that Javi is here, you will be obligated to get him something. So you have to find a gift for the asshole.

Javier decides to take his dad’s advice, he will talk to you and see what the fuck happened to make you hate him. He showers when he comes back inside and curses as he struggles to wrap the presents he bought. Including the necklace he got you when he was in Colombia. He wasn’t sure when he’d see you but it was made for you and he had to buy it.

Taking your time shopping, you meander in and out of shops, finally deciding on a gift for Javier. Really, two. One that spells out how you feel and another that your mother would approve of. You might be taking more time than normal so you didn't have to go back to the ranch just yet. Deciding to have the gifts you had brought for Chucho and your mom, along with the newly bought gifts for Javier wrapped at the little booth that is set up on the square. The beautiful wrapping is far superior than your own.

Javier places his haphazardly wrapped presents under the tree, shaking his head at how bad a job he did but he hopes everyone likes the presents he got. He wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs a beer, sitting down with his pa on the sofa just as you come back into the house. “Jesus, you go shopping in Dallas? You’ve been gone so long.” Javier comments.

You barely resist the urge to make a snarky comment and just shrug. “Got caught up.” You answer, feeling a little resentful that he believes you should answer to him. You are nothing to each other and hopefully won’t see each other again for years after the New Year’s party. Bringing the presents over, you place them under the tree and disappear down the hall to your bedroom to put your purse up.

Chucho looks over at Javier who sighs and stands up, following you down the hall and he knocks on the door. “Mom. I-” He doesn’t wait for you to say ‘come in’ when he enters and your eyes widen when he shuts the door behind him. “Javi. What the fuck-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Please, Chiquita. I need to know what the fuck it is I’ve done that makes you hate me so much.”

“I-“ your mouth drops open in surprise and you can’t believe this asshole doesn’t even remember. “I’m sure it’ll come to you if you think really hard on it. Now, I’d like you to leave my room.” You tell him, having no interest in getting into things with him. He had made his choice and you had moved on.

He frowns, “you seriously are a fucking bitch. Why can’t you just be fucking upfront instead of messing with me as much as possible.” He growls, “I’m over your little games. Fuck you.” He hisses before he leaves your room, slamming the door behind him. He storms outside, grabbing his cigarettes and he lights one as soon as he’s outside, trying to calm himself down.

In your room, you hate how his words affect you. Sinking down onto the bed, you try to stop yourself from crying. Thinking that you had cried yourself dry years ago and hating that Javier Peña still has that power over you. Wiping your eyes, you pick up your bag off the floor and toss it on the bed, ready to repack and leave.

He isn’t sure how long he stays outside, wandering the property, and he eventually looks up at the stars twinkling in the sky. “Mama. I- I don’t know what to do. She - she’s still so fucking gorgeous and I have no clue why she stopped talking to me. Seeing her again…I’m so confused. What do I do?” He asks the stars, wishing his mom was here to guide him.

Your bags packed, you sneak them outside and into the rental car. Unsure of why you are hanging around, but maybe it’s just to concede. Tell Javier that he’s won and you won’t be back around anymore. You’ll make it up to your mom, you’ll fly her out to spend a few weeks with you on your own turf. Your own cigarette is in hand for a pre-trip smoke as you spy a lone figure out by the barns and you decide to walk down there.

Javier caresses the horse as he stands in the barn, deciding to take more time to himself before he heads back inside for a “family dinner.” He hears a noise and turns to see you standing there, cigarette in hand. “You drop that, we all go up in flames.” He warns you, turning back to the horse.

“I’m not stupid enough to drop a cigarette around all the hay.” You snort, annoyed that he can’t help but be a condescending prick. “Came to tell you I’m leaving.” You take another drag off the cigarette before you smother the cherry on a wooden post until it’s out. “So you don’t have to worry about me being a bitch anymore. You win. I’ll fly my mom out to spend time with her during the year.” You hate looking at him, hate that you’ll remember the shock on his face but you make yourself turn around and start walking away. “Oh.” You toss over your shoulder. “Fuck you too, Peña.”

He hisses, rushing to follow you and he grabs your shoulder. “Fuck me? Fuck you. You’re gonna leave your mom on Christmas when you haven’t seen her in years. For what? Because of me? I’ll go. I’ll fucking leave then.” He growls at you and he spins you around to face him. “You can’t fucking leave.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I can and can’t do!” You push him away, horrified that angry tears have sprang up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be here with you! I don’t want to fucking see you! Ever!” You bite your lip and wipe your tears. “You ruined Christmas, not me. Just like you ruin everything.”

“I don’t even know what I did. I have no fucking clue why you hate me. Can you at least tell me what I did before you crucify me?” He pleads, hunching over in frustration as you stand in the entrance to the barn.

You stare at him for a second and then you laugh. Deep and from your belly, making you double over as the tears of frustrated mirth roll down your cheeks. “Of course you don't remember!” You scoff. “Why the fuck would you remember shattering my heart? Asking me out on a fucking date and making me believe that things between us were finally going to change.” You stop laughing and shoot him a withering look, even with the tear streaks on your skin. “Was it on purpose? Making out with Lorraine when I showed up for our date? To sink the knife in and drive the message home that I wasn’t good enough for you? I know it was a stupid, pathetic crush, I was hopelessly in love with you.” You snort. “You didn’t have to be cruel.”

“You thought- fuck. I- you don’t even know what I was thinking when I asked you to the bar, do you? And when I got there, Lorraine was there and she was trying to win me back. She - she pounced on me when I- fuck. She must’ve seen you walk in.” He rambles, “she set it up and I- shit. You saw - oh shit.” He chokes, realizing how much Lorraine messed up his life. She knew he was planning to meet you and that he - “Fuck!” He yells at the sky, frustrated and so fucking angry. The miscommunication and the deception make his blood boil. “Fuck you!” He shouts again at the sky, hoping Lorraine hears him. “Fuck me? Fuck you!” You growl, thinking he is talking to you.

“Fuck you!” He hisses back, furious at the universe. “Fuck you, Chiquita. Fuck-” He surges forward to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours.

You huff against his lips, pulling back and drawing your hand back to slap him. The crack of the hit echoes around the pen. “Fuck you!” You hiss, but Javi just growls your name and grabs you by the back of the neck to plaster his lips against yours again. Making you melt as you stop resisting and kiss him back with just as much angry passion as he is kissing you.

He groans into your mouth, guiding you backwards into the barn and towards the fresh pile of hay, and he lowers you down onto it. He hovers over you, his lips kissing your jaw. “Tell me to stop.” He begs, reaching down to grab your thigh to hitch it over his hip. “Tell me to fucking stop.” He pleads, needing you to tell him you don’t want this before he makes you moan.

You should. You should push him away and slap him again, but you don’t. Too busy sinking your fingers into his hair and tugging on it hard enough to make him hiss. One night. You’ll take this one night with him and then you’ll leave. “Don’t stop.” You whimper, wanting to have him just once.

He groans in relief when you don’t push him away. His hand slides along your thigh to slip under the dress you put on for Christmas Eve dinner. His fingers pressing against your clit through the cotton and he kisses down your neck until he’s nipping at the swell of your breast. “Always been so fucking beautiful.” He mutters into your skin as his fingers slide under the elastic of your panties so he can rub your clit properly.

You huff, still not understanding everything that happened so many years ago, but his fingers are distracting. “Javi.” You moan softly, wishing you could kiss him, bite him as he rubs your clit and his nose pushes down the top of your dress to expose your tits. “Please.”

He can’t deny you anything when you whimper like that. He mouths at your nipple, biting down as you tug on his hair, and he pushes two fingers inside of you. “Waited so fucking long to hear those sweet moans. Wanna hear you cum. Wanna feel your pussy squeeze me, hermosa.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses his thumb into your clit.

Moaning, you close your eyes and absorb the stretch of his fingers. It’s so good. So filling. There’s a chance - a very large one - that this is some kind of notch in his belt. That he wants to touch you just so he can hold it over your head, but you don’t care. You just want to be touched. To have him like this. “Fuck, Javi- please.”

He hisses when your walls grip his fingers, showing him how tight you could get around his cock, and he groans your name. “I got you, hermosa.” He promises, “I got you baby.” He rubs your clit a little faster with his thumb, desperately needing you to cum before he fills you with his cock.

You whine, turning your head and pressing your lips together to muffle the sounds. The last thing you want is for your mom and Chucho to hear you and come outside. Closing your eyes, you love the little encouraging grunts he gives as he fingers you until you’re clenching down around his fingers and gasping out his name.

Javier groans when you soak his fingers and he works you through it. “That’s it. Such a good girl.” He murmurs, withdrawing his fingers after you start to whine and he shoves them in his mouth, wanting to taste you. “Baby. Shit. Tell me I can fuck you. Or tell me to stop.” He pleads as he squeezes his cock through his jeans.

Your dress is hiked up and your tits pulled out. Reaching for the band of your panties, you lift your hips to push them down. “Take your fucking pants off, Peña.” You growl, tossing the soaked material to the side and reaching for his belt.

He groans when you pull his hard cock out. He's throbbing and leaking pre-cum. The front of his jeans are dark from it, and he bats your hand away when you start to pump him. "Gonna fuck you." He promises, shuffling close until he's lined up and he starts to slowly push inside of you.

Your legs brace on either side of his hips and your nails curl into the fabric of his plaid shirt. He’s thick and stretches you out. “Fuck, Javi.” You whine, tilting your head up to kiss along his jaw. “Fuck.”

He pants, your cunt is gripping him like a vice, and he struggles to control himself. He takes a deep breath and nudges his nose against yours. He pushes deep, throbbing inside of you, and he slowly pulls out of you then pushes back in a little faster. "Mierda." He pants, starting to fuck you properly.

You had always wondered if Javi was cocky because he was that good or if it was a false sense of bravado but you quickly find out. The short, deep thrusts of his cock seem to push against the spongy, sensitive parts of you perfectly. “Shit is right.” You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he rocks into you. Regardless of how many women he’s fucked, you’re in his arms right now. “God, Javi, more.”

He pants, his cock twitching inside of you, and he grabs your thigh, lifting it higher so he can press deeper inside of you. “So fucking good, baby. Always thought you would be. Always imagined you’d blow my mind.” He rambles as he rocks into you over and over.

Closing your eyes, you resist the urge to spit at him that he could have found out years ago. Instead, you just tighten your muscles around him and moan quietly. You don’t want to ruin this or fight with him when he’s inside you, still unsure of what the fuck happened but you have your suspicions. “Fuck.”

He rocks into you, kissing along your neck, and he can’t resist biting along your skin. He’s always been a biter and he feels a little satisfied to bite your neck and mark you. His thrusts get sloppily, harder, as he gets closer but he needs you to cum first. Usually, he’d last longer but this is you and the fire is still blazing through his veins.

You feel his entire body tensing and moan softly. Stroking his back under his shirt and feeling the muscles move. “So good, fuck, you’re so good.” You praise softly, overwhelmed by how deep he plunges into you.

“Cum for me, hermosa.” He orders, “cum, Chiquita.” He demands, reaching between you to rub your clit in hopes that you’ll fall apart just before he does.

You whimper at the additional stimulation, body tensing under his. Rocking your hips up to his hand until you are falling apart with a choked cry.

“That’s it baby. Fuck. Oh shit. Oh.” He grunts as he thrusts three more times before he’s pulling out to cum on your thigh and over the hay. “Jesus.” He hisses, unable to believe he couldn’t even hold off until he could jerk himself.

You don’t know if you should be grateful or insulted that he pulled out to cum. You’re on birth control but he doesn’t know that. You decide that you just won’t address it. “Well….that just happened.” You hum, leaning back into the hay to catch your breath.

Javier chuckles, “yeah. A bit overdue.” He confesses and you freeze under him.

“It’s getting late and I- we need to-” You rush out as you push on his chest and he frowns as he shifts off of you, working fast to tuck himself back into his pants.

“Hermosa-“ Javi starts and you grab your panties and hurry to put them back on after using some hay to wipe the cum off your skin.

“We should get back.” You interrupt. “Mom worked hard on dinner.” You are confused and need time to process what just happened. “Don’t come in right behind me.” You tell him before you rush towards the house.

Javier stares at the barn door you rushed out of. His stomach twisting, and he rubs his cheek, "shit." He hisses, unsure of what happens next. He gave in. He gave in to the fucking feelings and desires he has had for years. He should've stayed away, not hurt you anymore than he has. "Fuck." He growls as he stands and the horses look over at him. "Don't look at me like that, asshole." He growls at the horse before he corrects his clothes and makes his way back to the house.

You slip into the house and down the hall to the bathroom. Staring at your reflection in the mirror and wondering what the fuck you have done. You crossed a line with Javier and now you are in unfamiliar water. Huffing before you grab a rag and start cleaning yourself up better so you don’t smell like cum.

Javier slips back into the living room, grabbing the beer his dad offers him and he sits down and stares at the empty hall. “Huh?” He grunts at his dad who asks him a question.

“I asked if you got all the animals fed and watered.” Chucho repeats with a suspicious frown and Javi nods.

“Yeah. I did. I- they are good.” He says half minded as he sips the beer and wonders what the fuck you’re thinking.

You probably spend more time in the bathroom than you should, checking your reflection to make sure no one can tell what you’ve been up to. Finally turning off the light and slipping out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine.

Javier watches you rush into the kitchen and Chucho notices. “You need to talk to her, mijo. Tell her what happened.” He urges and Javier shakes his head, “she wouldn’t believe me anyway.” Your mom calls for everyone to get around the table, it’s time for dinner. When Javier comes to the table, you’re downing the glass of wine in your hand, and he sighs when he takes a seat opposite you.

Your eyes slide over to him and you lower the glass as you swallow the last of the wine down. “What?” You ask, wondering why he is sighing. He got what he wanted, and you even stayed.

“Oh sweetie, you want more?” Your mother asks and you nod.

“Please?” You ask desperately. “I need it.”

Javi frowns as you take a gulp of your now full glass of wine. Your mom wants to say grace and Javier joins his hand with yours. Opening one eye to see what you’re doing, he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, silently relaying he wants to talk later.

You shiver and when the prayer is over, you quickly pull your hand out of Javi’s. “Food looks amazing, mom.” You gush. “You did a fantastic job.”

Javier nods, "it's really good, ma'am." He says and your mom rolls her eyes, "how many times I gotta tell you to not call me that?" She reminds him and he chuckles, "sorry ma'am."

He winks at her and she giggles, making Chucho snort, "stop flirting with my wife, boy." He teases his son who rolls his eyes, "unless you're trying to make good with my step daughter." Chucho says and Javier chokes on his food.

You laugh, a little butter and shake your head. “Hell no.” You assure Chucho. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t think he’s ever even looked at me twice.” You flash the older man a smile and a small shrug.

Javier frowns, glancing across the room to the tree where his present for you is. He wonders if you’ll like it or if you’re going to reject it…and him. He downs the rest of his beer and digs back in to his food, anxious and not liking the way you dismissed him so easily.

You eat quietly, ignoring the way that your mother and Chucho exchange pointed looks. Reminding yourself that you just need to survive the holiday and then you’ll never see or hear from Javier again. “So what are your plans?” Your mom asks and you shrug.

“Work.” You answer quietly. “Always work.”

Javier chimes in, “you can’t always work. Life has to fit in sometimes. A personal life.” He knows he’s a hypocrite saying that when his own world has revolved around work for so long. “Gotta have a balance.” He’s realized that now he’s older.

“One day.” You huff. “I’ll find a life when I get my promotion.” You have told yourself that for countless milestones but you never do. You enjoy your relatively drama free personal life.

“Honey…..you need to start dating.” Your mom puts in and you roll your eyes. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Javier snorts, “more like she’s scared of what could happen if she actually cared for someone.” He says and Chucho nudges his leg under the table in a warning.

Your eyes slide towards Javier and narrow. “Tried that once. He was a pig.” You hiss. “Decided that it wasn’t worth my time. Even though I don’t fuck for sport, I find plenty of companionship when I want it.” Your mom hisses your name, but you don’t back down from staring at the man who drives you insane.

Javier clenches his jaw at your thinly veiled insult towards him. He didn’t get a chance to explain what happened. He just wants a chance to tell you what went down that night. “Yeah. I’m sure you do.” Javier scoffs, “even in the middle of nowhere.”

Smirking, you shrug. “Mistakes happen, right?” You say smugly. You know now that you were just a notch in his belt. You can leave without any regrets. “Quickly forgotten.”

He shakes his head and scoffs, picking up another beer he had on the table to sip. "I don't forget things as easily. If ever." He says, letting himself stare at you and wanting to see you become uncomfortable under his gaze.

The table becomes a battleground, each one of you staring at the other. Unwilling to back down, you glare at Javi, wondering why you ever had that moment of insanity and let him touch you.

The dessert is finally served and Chucho and your mom are relieved. "Maybe we can have a drink on the porch?" Your mom suggests, wanting to get some air after dessert is finished.

Chucho nods, "you kids can do the washing up." He says, following your mom after grabbing the bottle of wine, to follow her out on the porch.

Instead of speaking, you just start collecting the dirty dishes and your chair scrapes back from the table. Quickly moving to the sink to start some dish water to wash dishes. The quicker that you clean up, the quicker that you can escape Javier.

Javier huffs when you try to clean up as quickly as possible to get away from him. You are washing a dish when he places his arms on either side of you, trapping you against the sink. “Why’d you run away?” He asks, meaning tonight, the bar that night, and from town, all in the same heavy question. His nose running along your neck, “why’d you run?”

“You made your choice.” You jerk away from him and concentrate on the dishes. Refusing to melt under his casual seduction. “It wasn’t me. Why would I stick around and watch you play house with her?” You demand. “I’m not that pathetic.”

Javier sighs and rests his hands on the counter. “I didn’t- I was there to meet you. I was gonna have the date with you and she pounced on me. You didn’t see me push her away. I told her I was done with her and then you- you never showed and I thought I had my answer. That you didn’t feel the same way. So I went back to Lorraine, trying to figure out how the fuck to fall out of love with you.” He confesses, “you- you made me - you broke my heart that night.” He admits and knows you won’t believe him.

“Bullshit.” You close your eyes, hands under the water and you take a deep breath to keep from crying. The problem is that you want to believe it, want to believe that he had not intentionally been horrible. “Your hands were on her ass and her tongue was down your throat.” You remind him. “Look, I can’t - it’s not-“ you sigh again. “You fucked me, okay? You got what you wanted. It was pretty good. Wouldn’t mind if it happened again, but I don’t need words anymore. You changed me that night, you broke me.”

He shakes his head, “she put my hands on her ass and shoved her tongue down my throat. She - she forced herself on me and I- I pushed her away seconds later. You didn’t see me push her away. She knew how I- fuck. She knew how I felt about you and she was jealous. That’s why we broke up the first time. She found out about my feelings for you and dumped me. Then she wanted me back. Shit. I love you. I still love you.” He chokes, hating how vulnerable he feels.

Eyes wide, you turn your head and look at him in shock. “You still love me?” You ask in disbelief. “You haven’t seen me in forever and you’ve- you’ve moved on. You knew where I was, you could have come to me, but you got engaged to her.”

“I thought you hated me. You never returned my calls. Wouldn’t answer your door to me. Your mom said you’d left and I- I figured I’d do the right thing after Lorraine told me she was pregnant. She wasn’t. She lied so I’d propose and she railroaded a wedding that ended with me leaving her hanging at the altar. I couldn’t do it. I left that same day to go to the DEA and then all those years in Colombia. I never stopped thinking about you. And seeing you now…made me remember why I love you.” He finishes, unsure and so unused to declarations of love but you need to know the truth.

“Why?” You demand, unwilling to believe it right away yet it sounds like something Lorraine would do. “Why would you love me? I’ve been cold and sarcastic to you. Other than in the barn just before dinner.”

Javier chuckles, “honestly? I loved you back then because you’re funny, you’re kind. You’re my best friend and I fell in love with you without even realizing it and it fucking terrified me but baby, I was a coward then. I wanted to explore the world. I wanted to make a difference. I’m older now, I got that out of my system and I know what I want. I want you. I want to love you. You’re even more gorgeous and fucking sexy when you get mad at me.” He confesses, “but I guess you hate me too much and I get that. I- forget I said anything. Forget what happened in the barn. Let’s just get the holidays over with and you can leave.” He says as he pushes off of the counter to head down the hall to wallow and try to smother his mortification.

You should follow him, but you know that whatever you say right now, Javier will believe that it’s out of pity. Sighing to yourself as you finish up the dishes. Unsure of how to process this, and what you feel. You’ve been angry at him for so long because you were in love with him. Desperately so. Are you still angry because you’re still in love with him? Or the version of him from so many years ago? It’s confusing and frustrating, so when you’re done, you walk down the hall, pausing in front of his door.

Javier hears you outside of his room, and he sits up, glasses perched on his nose as he sets the book down he bought in the airport in hopes of relaxing enough to read something at some point. That hope is short lived and he deflates when he hears you continue down the hall to your room. You hate him. He fucked it up. With a sigh, he takes his glasses off and tosses the book onto the nightstand, deciding to get some sleep instead of letting his mind wander all night long.

The night passes, restlessly tossing and turning. Your sleep is interrupted by dreams of what could have been if you hadn’t run away. Javier as your husband, celebrating Christmas and bringing the baby for Chucho and your mom to spoil. Waking up before the sun rises, you slip out of the bed and into the kitchen to make coffee and sneak a cigarette. You had only brought one pack, but you’re going to smoke all of them before the holiday is over obviously.

Javier groans as he gets up, his back aching more than it used to. Fuck, he’s getting old. He takes a piss and brushes his teeth before heading into the kitchen wearing some boxers he grabbed off of the floor. It doesn’t seem like anyone is up yet until he sees the coffee pot. Pouring himself a cup, he heads onto the porch to find you smoking. “Those things will kill you.” He says, shivering at the cool air and taking a sip of his coffee.

“Hello pot.” You blow out the smoke and look at the cigarette. “I’m kettle. Didn’t you smoke a cigarette in the car with my mom? Besides, I hadn’t smoked in nearly a month before I came here.”

Javier snorts, “nice to meet you kettle.” He chuckles softly, taking another sip of his coffee and he walks over to you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand so he can take a drag, his eyes fixed on yours.

You huff slightly but you don’t glare at him. Taking a sip of your coffee and then looking out over the ranch. “Your dad is good for my mother.” You admit quietly. “She gushes when she talks about him and never thought that she would ever find someone to make her happy after dad died.”

Javier nods, “I never thought my dad would find someone after my mom died. It was hard…her dying so young of cancer and he - he struggled. We both did. I think that’s why I wanted to get out of Laredo as soon as possible when I had the chance. All those years away…I didn’t achieve anything really. Didn’t change the world. Those bastards are still peddling drugs across the border and I- I missed out on an opportunity to try and get the woman I love to be mine.” He says as he takes another drag.

“From what everyone has said, you managed to find plenty of companionship in Colombia.” You hadn’t wanted to talk about Javier, but your mom had kept you informed about his doings. “If you had convinced her, you couldn’t have done that. Not without losing your dick.”

“I - I was getting information. Men like to blabber when they are inside a beautiful woman. It got us a lot of intel and those women got to feed their kids. And if I had convinced her, I wouldn’t have gone. And I wouldn’t have had that kind of companionship. Life happens and here we are. Together. On this porch. It’s Christmas. Merry Christmas baby.” He murmurs, slowly leaning towards you. He takes a second to let you lean back before kissing your cheek.

“Merry Christmas.” You murmur, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips against your cheek. “You have gone. I wouldn’t have wanted you to give up on your ideals and dreams for a relationship. I’m not Lorraine.”

He nods after he pulls back, “you’re not Lorraine. You- you’re you. I should’ve seen you earlier and I’m sorry. About everything. Last night. The night before. All the nights before that. I fucked up, hermosa. Just - just be happy, yeah?” He says as he hands you back the cigarette and heads inside, ready to nurse his heart.

“Javi- stop.” Reaching out, you touch his wrist. “Don’t go. I don’t know- who knows what would have happened?” You ask softly. “Back then. But I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’m tired of avoiding you.”

Javier stares at you and nods, “let’s start again.” He walks up to you and holds his hand out, “hi. I’m Javier Peña. Ex- DEA agent. Total fuck up and chain smoker.” He declares with a soft smirk.

You chuckle quietly and introduce yourself. “Workaholic, total bitch and secret smoker.” You hum, squeezing his hand gently. “Nice to meet you.”

Javier squeezes your hand back and grins, “pleasure, baby. It’s a pleasure.” He winks and the lights in the kitchen turn on as your mom enters. “You two are out here? It’s so cold. Come inside.” She demands and Javier winks at you again as he lets you walk in ahead of him.

“Merry Christmas, mom.” You swoop in for a hug and she eyes you suspiciously.

“Please, please behave today.” She begs quietly, making you feel guilty for how rude you’ve been.

“I will, mom. Javi and I have called a truce.”

Javier nods as he comes over to give your mom a hug and wish her Merry Christmas. “We called a ceasefire for today.” He promises, “we are gonna make today special.” He assures her and she eyes you both cautiously. “I guess we will see.” She hums, “now, you both wanna help me with breakfast?” She asks and you nod.

Making breakfast doesn’t cause any arguments. Javi follows directions surprisingly well and there are moments that you snicker at his dry wit. Once upon a time, you were best friends and if nothing else, you wouldn’t mind having your friend back. Chucho comes in when it’s ready, sleeping in for once and you’re proud of the fact that he’s obviously been away but stayed in bed to rest. “Good morning.” You hum, kissing your stepfather on the cheek. “Feliz Navidad.”

Javier gives his Pa a hug and wishes him merry Christmas. “Breakfast is ready. Let’s sit down and eat and then presents.” Your mom exclaims with excitement, eager to give Chucho her present that she’s thought of since last Christmas.

You bite your lip. Remembering the gift you had picked out for Javier. Hopefully he won’t be too upset since you had bought him something else to replace it. It was a shitty gift, but you were angry when you went shopping. “Sounds great.” You murmur.

The breakfast goes well, civil conversation, and soon you and Javi are quickly washing up while your mom sorts out the gifts from under the tree. “Gift time!” She declares and Javier is anxious about what you think.

You hum and coo when your mother opens the beautiful bracelet that Chucho bought her. “Oh it’s so pretty. You have taste, obviously.” You joke, grinning at him as he puts it on your mother’s wrist.

Chucho grins, happy that your mom is happy and he kisses the back of her hand after securing the bracelet. “It’s so beautiful.” Your mom coos and Chucho winks, “para mi esposa hermosa.” He charms her and she giggles like a schoolgirl. Javier chuckles, pleased to see his dad so happy. Chucho opens his present from your mom. A new shotgun and he is grinning as he examines it. “This is perfect, honey.” He says, knowing his shotgun collection has been a little dated and he needs something new. “This is perfect for out in the fields.” He says, testing the weight of it before he carefully sets it down in the corner.

“You next.” Your mom says, handing you your presents from her and Chucho and from Javi.

You open the gift from your mother and Chucho, exclaiming happily when they got you a pair of tickets to a concert that you have wanted to go to. “Oh this is wonderful!” You tell them. When it comes to Javi’s gift, you’re surprised when you see the name tag. You hadn’t expected to get anything from him. “You- you didn’t have to get me anything.” You huff

Javier shakes his head slightly, “it’s not much.” He lies even as his stomach twists at the thought of you opening the present. He hopes you don’t hate them. He bites his lip as you take your time unwrapping the small box.

Opening up the small box you gasp in surprise. It’s a necklace. A gorgeous one that has the most beautiful stones in it. “Javi-“ you whisper, wondering where he got this and when. “It’s gorgeous.”

Javier smiles, pleased you like the necklace. “I, uh, I saw it when I was in Colombia and…and I knew it was made for you. I got it. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to give it to you.” He admits and rubs his hands together, nervous about you liking the necklace.

“It’s beautiful.” You admit quietly, more moved than you can express for him buying a necklace that he didn’t even know he would give you. “Will you put it on me?” You ask softly.

He nods, standing up and taking the chain from you. His heart is thumping as he delicately fastens the chain around your neck, barely resisting the urge to lean in and kiss your shoulder. “Hermosa.” He murmurs as he steps back from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, looking into his eyes and hoping that you are showing him how much you appreciate it. “It makes me feel bad now.” You admit as you pick up the parcel you had wrapped for him

He shakes his head and brings it up to his ear, “is it a bomb?” He teases and you giggle, shaking your head. He rips into the paper, exposing the box and he frowns. “Hemorrhoid cream?” He asks, confused and honestly a little hurt.

“Because you’re a ‘pain in my ass’.” You joke lamely and bite your lip before motioning to the other wrapped gift. “I did buy you something else. Your real present.”

Javier sets the cream with an amused snort and he grabs the other present, opening it, and his eyes widen at the expensive leather. His fingers trace the engraving of his initials on the journal and he looks at you. “Thank you. This is - it’s perfect.” He was considering writing down his experiences in Colombia. Something a therapist suggested to him. Perhaps a book in the future.

“I thought it would be appropriate to journal or just write down your thoughts.” You admit, happy that he likes the real gift you had picked out. “The cream was a gag gift, but I wanted you to have something nice.”

He leans in to kiss your cheek, “I love it. The journal. Although…I could use the cream now and then.” He jokes as he leans back. “Thank you.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“You’re welcome.” You smile and Chucho clears his throat. “Oh, um, I’m sure you want to open the present from mom and your dad.” You tell him, quickly pulling back and looking at the other present.

Javier nods and moves back to the sofa, sitting down, and he opens the present from his dad and your mom. “Seriously?” His eyes widen and his dad nods, “you need your own place and I don't need a damn teenager in the house.” Chucho teases, “it’s been empty since Jose left a few months ago. It’s yours if you want it.” Chucho offers Javier the keys to the small house that sits on the other side of the ranch, built for the ranch hand by Chucho’s parents. “Thank you.” Javier grins, happy to have his own place and still be able to live on the ranch of his ancestors.

“Just need you to fill the place up with grandbabies.” Your mom teases and Javier blushes slightly, “gotta find a lady willing to put up with my ass.”

You feel like his eyes are on you and you try to ignore it. “You gave away a house?” You look over at your mom and Chucho, impressed. “So I guess that means Javi is sticking around?”

Javier nods, “I’m staying. I’m done with the DEA. I’m here to help Pa on the ranch. I was gonna look for places in town but this - this is perfect.” He declares, looking back down at the keys in his hand.

You swallow harshly, remembering all the fantasies you had about you and Javi working in the ranch with his dad and one day taking it over. “That’s great. Having your privacy is always a good thing. Saves for embarrassing encounters in the morning.” You joke, wondering if he had meant what he said about still loving you. If he imagined the same life you had before.

Javier stares at you for a long moment, imagining that life with you. Marriage. Children. He never imagined it with anyone else, even Lorraine. He never wanted it with her. When she told him she was pregnant, he was so upset. “Thanks Pa.” Javi leans over to pat his dad on the back before he thanks your mom.

You watch as Javi hugs your mom and gather up the wrapping paper and trash to throw it away. “If you want to go look at the place, I’ll help mom with dinner.” You offer.

“You wanna come look with me? Might need your interior design skills.” He says, tilting his head, and he hopes you don’t decline.

“Oh honey, go with him.” Your mom interjects. “We did most of the hard stuff yesterday. Go get dressed and go see it.” She doesn’t know why the two of you are acting better, but she wants to encourage it as much as possible.

Javier nods, deciding to get dressed too while you do. You meet him outside and he escorts you to the cabin. Tempted to hold your hand but he refrains as you walk in comfortable silence for the first time in years.

The cabin is set apart from the house that his father shares with your mother and the barns. Built about a football field away, the separation is nice. “So you’re back for good?”

“Yeah. I- I didn’t really get a chance to tell you but I’m back.” He rubs his neck, “retired from the DEA and staying in Laredo for good. Pa needs more help now he’s getting older.” He explains, stepping up into the small porch and jangling the keys.

“Well, that’s good.” You tell him. “There once was a time I imagined working here.” You admit. “Living here.” You shake your head at how foolish you were. “Life never turns out the way we expect, huh?”

Javier opens the door and lets you enter first, his dark eyes trained on you as you walk into the house. “You still could if you wanted to.” He murmurs, leaving the door open behind him in case you dash like you always seem to do.

“Oh, I don’t think Chucho and mom would like me staying under their roof for long.” You purposely misunderstand. “It feels like they're still in their honeymoon stage.” You huff a laugh. “I think I heard them last night when I went to the bathroom.”

Javier wrinkles his nose, “I love them but Jesus, didn’t need to know about the old man getting his rocks off.” He shakes his head as if to shake the image. “Baby, I meant you living here…with me.” He says, turning back towards you to see your reaction.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly and you bite your lip. “You would want that?” You ask seriously. “You’ve- you’re a confirmed bachelor, that’s what everyone says.” You had heard the whispers about Javier being home when you were out shopping. “‘Javi will never settle down.’” You quote. “You really want me living with you and holding you back from chasing whatever skirt catches your eye?”

Javier scoffs, turning away from you to look at the kitchen. “I’m tired of it. I don’t want to wake up in another bed I need to sneak out of. I’m sick of not having someone to be my best friend, to share a life with. I’m old. I’m too old to be out there fucking anything with a pulse and I don’t want to. I want you. I want a life with you. I always have. I won’t beg you. If you don’t want that…want me…I get it.” He shrugs, glad he’s turned away from you to hide his hurt expression.

“Why don’t we…..” you reach out and touch his shoulder. “Date?” You suggest. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been in each other’s lives. What if we’re different from what we remember? What if I’m not the idealized version of me that you have fantasized about being with?” It hurts to admit that, but being rejected again would kill you. “So while we’re here together, we get to know each other now and we can figure out if we would want it permanently.”

Javier turns to look at you. His eyes are burning into yours and he doesn’t see any malice, you’re not messing with him. You’re being honest and he can’t ask for more. He nods, “we can do that.” He promises, “I want to try.”

“I- I want to try that too.” You admit softly, eyes cutting away from his in embarrassment and you look around the little ranch house. “This is gorgeous.” It’s got some basic furniture in it, so Javi shouldn’t have to get much to make it a home. “Are you going to move in today?”

“I’m thinking I might do some work on it. Move in tomorrow.” He says, glancing around at the things that need to be updated. “I wouldn’t mind your help. I was serious about that. I’m hopeless at decorating a home. I need help.”

“I doubt that.” You scoff, Javier has always had good taste in everything. “But I’ll help. What do you want to do?”

“Probably going to change the sofa. This thing has been here forever and I have an idea of what’s happened on it.” Javier wrinkles his nose, “Jose used to brag about his conquests.”

You snort and send him a smirk. “So you’ve never fucked on a sofa?” You ask. “Stuck to the bed and piles of hay in a barn?” You tease. “Obviously no shower sex, either. You were shocked to see me in the shower the other day.”

“I’ve fucked on a sofa. In the shower. In the car. Pretty much every surface but hay in the barn was a first with you.” He admits. “I was shocked because - because I didn’t expect to see you there and I - Jesus, it’s all I could think about after. What would’ve happened if I had stepped in there and fucked you against the tiles.”

You’re surprised by his admission and your cunt clenches in reaction. “I probably would have slapped you at the time.” You admit, smirking at the idea of slapping him and then fucking him. “But I would have let you fuck me after. I’m weak like that.”

Javier chuckles, “probably wouldn’t have minded the slap. Made me fucking hard as steel when you did it last night.” He admits, shifting to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Really?” Your brow ticks up in surprise and you smirk at the little secret he’s just revealed. “Javier Peña likes his sex a little rough. Interesting.” You tease. “Slapping is on the table, you obviously like to bite, how do you feel about handcuffs?”

“Depends on who’s wearing them. I ain’t against getting handcuffed to the headboard so you can ride my face.” He admits, “or I could handcuff you and make you scream my name after I suck on your clit all night long.”

It’s so casual, the way he throws out sexual escapades. You shiver slightly and snort. “No man wants to just eat a woman out all night.” You tell him. “Maybe getting their dick sucked, but not using their own mouth.”

“One man.” He says and points to himself. “Always love seeing a woman cum on my tongue. Didn’t get to do that to you last night.” He hums, “and I’m sure that’s not something you’re interested in with me.” He teases, crossing his arms.

You huff and roll your eyes. “You were too busy dreaming of shoving your cock inside me.” You remind him, even though you had been pretty desperate for the same thing. “I don’t know, it would mean using the couch or the bed that’s seen so much action. Since I doubt you’d want your dad to hear.”

Javier chuckles and pushes off of the kitchen counter, stepping towards you. "Hermosa...that couch has seen some action. I'm sure it wouldn't mind a little more before it gets taken to the dump. You wanna sit on my face for Christmas?" He asks, "or we can go back to the house and act like this never happened?"

“Face sitting for Christmas?” You giggle at the idea and bite your lip. “Nothing to hang onto, but I could lay down and you could do what you wanted. Learning the oral skills of your partner is an important part of dating, isn’t it?”

Javier smirks and nods, “exactly. Important to establish early on. Now…strip for me, hermosa. I want to see all of you.” He orders and rubs his lower lip with his thumb, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

You tut, but you don’t argue with him. He didn’t get to see you last night and in some small way, you want to show him what he’s been missing. Keeping your eyes on his, you reach for the hem of your light sweater and pull it over your head to toss it aside. “You know you’re handsome.” You grumble. “Cocky asshole. Always aware of how many women want to fuck you.”

He snorts and pulls his shirt over his head. “There’s only one woman I want to fuck me right now.” He promises, “might be the last one I fuck.” He declares and watches you, his dark eyes taking in the sight of your tits unhindered by a dress. “Jesus, baby. You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs when you push your leggings down after kicking off your shoes.

“And you’re a kiss ass.” You tease, even though his words make you preen.

“I’ll kiss your ass.” Javi smirks and you turn around to bend over while you pull your panties down.

He groans softly and wraps his fingers around his cock. “Baby. Go kneel on the sofa.” He orders, wanting to taste you. He’s aching but he desperately wants to make you cum on his tongue.

You sway your hips enticingly as you walk over to the sofa. Kneeling down and bending over the armrest. You look over your shoulder and smirk at Javi. “What are you waiting for?”

He practically growls as he rushes over to the sofa, kneeling on the floor and he nudges your knees apart until he can push his tongue deep into your pussy. Sliding against your clit immediately so he can taste you and God, he fucking loves the tang of your arousal.

“Jav!” Your cry is nearly cut off, strangled by the groan you give. He’s eager and that eagerness translates into a quick tongue and demanding jaw. Working into you and over your clit with a ferocity you haven’t experienced. “Oh God, fuck, Javi.” You whine, grinding back against his tongue.

He groans into you, loving the way you take what you need. His fingers grab your ass, working you open even more and his tongue slides up to push against your puckered hole.

Gasping, your hips rock forward. "Javi!" You squeal, unused to anyone ever sticking anything near that area. "Don't- just my pussy." You warble out.

He doesn’t push you, sliding his tongue down to push it into you with a groan, your arousal hitting his taste buds and he groans your name into your flesh. His hands massage your ass and he’s aching to push inside of you but doesn’t.

You shudder and moan. "I'm sorry-" you gasp out. "No one- I've never-" You know you can't compare with some of the women you know he must have been with. You don't have the experience. You aren't a virgin, but you didn't bed hop as often as you had insinuated. "Oh God."

Javier pulls back, his hands caressing your hips. “Hey. It’s okay. I pushed you and you have limits. I want you to tell me if you don’t like something or aren’t sure. Trust me baby, I want you to enjoy this.”

"I just never have done that." You admit breathlessly. "I don't want you to think I'm a stuck up prude. I just -" You shrug, embarrassed, "was shocked."

“It’s okay.” He promises and leans forward to kiss along your hip and your ass cheek. “It’s okay baby. I want you to enjoy this and I don’t care if you haven’t done anything there. Your pussy is sweet enough for me.” He promises, giving you a moment in case you want him to stop.

You remind yourself that you aren't telling him no, you're telling him not right now. It can be something you talk about when you aren't naked. "Are you going to make me cum?" You ask saucily. "Or was that all talk?"

Javier chuckles, “I am a man of action, hermosa.” He promises and leans in to bite your ass cheek. He kisses the skin until he ducks down to slide his tongue through your folds again. A groan vibrates through you from him and he squeezes your hips as he resumes sucking on your clit.

You moan softly, eyes slipping closed as Javi feasts on your cunt. That's all you can think of, the man behind you feasting as he groans and grunts into your cunt. He sounds like he's enjoying it and you love how wanton it makes you. "So good." You whimper. "Thought your mustache was stupid until right now."

He chuckles into your pussy, wanting to tell you how it’s not stupid but he’s more occupied with making you cum. He sucks on your clit, determined to make you cum on just tongue. He hisses as you reach back to tangle your fingers in his hair and he goes harder, pushing his tongue into you and pressing his nose to your clit.

You don't know how long he has his lips wrapped around your clit and you don't care. Every second is amazing and makes your cunt clench around nothing. If you could just have his cock buried inside you, it would be a dream. "I'm gonna cum." You warn him, stomach knotted in pleasure and his groans vibrating against the bundle of nerves. He sucks harshly and you squeal his name, body spasming in pleasure as you come apart.

He loves hearing you cum. Jesus, his cock is leaking into the fabric of the sofa, and he groans your name, muffled by your folds as he works you through your orgasm.

Javier seems to know exactly when to pull away from you. Slurping up every drop of your pleasure until your limbs are heavy and you are melting into the cushions. "Fuck," you pant. "I - fuck me, baby." You beg breathlessly. "I need to feel you inside me."

He can’t deny you or himself. He shifts to kneel on the sofa behind you, pumping himself a couple of times until he’s notching himself at your entrance and pushing into you with a groan. “Fuck.” He pants, “so goddamn tight.” He murmurs, knowing he’s never felt like this before. It’s like coming home.

You purposefully squeeze your walls together to make him groan, giggling when he slaps your ass. "Kegels." You tell him breathlessly. "Keeps everything nice and tight."

“Goddamn.” He mutters and starts to move inside of you. Rocking slow to pull out until he’s surging forward to rock into you hard. “Want you to scream my name. No one can hear you this far out.” He reminds you, “wanna hear you cry out.”

The house is farther away from the barn, making you nod and release your lip from your teeth. You had been biting down when he started moving, trying to stifle the sounds. He feels so much bigger from this position. "Oh fuck, Jav- I, fuck!"

“That’s it. Scream for me, hermosa.” He grunts, loving the way you let go and rock back onto him. His fingers dig into your hips and he shifts to cover your back with his chest, his lips finding your neck as he cups your tits. Squeezing them, he bites down on your shoulder.

"Fuck Javi-" You love how he is using his teeth, marking you. "Harder." You whine, not sure if you mean the thrusts, the teeth or them both. "Fuck me. Use me."

He grunts, pushing into you harder. He bites down on your shoulder again and soothes it with his tongue. “So fucking good. Pussy feels like a vice.” He grunts against your skin, “so good.”

"God, sooooo good." You moan, eyes rolling back and your arms shaking under you. "No wonder she didn't want to let you go." You don't want to start a fight, not while he's buried inside you, but you can see why Lorraine didn't want Javi moving on. "Oh fuck, baby."

“Gotten better since then with practice.” He confesses, “and you’re the last one to benefit if you want.” He adds, “you’ll be the pussy I live and die with.” He promises, “if you want me. I’m yours.” He vows and kisses along your neck.

You shiver because of his words and his lips trailing over your skin. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Peña." You moan, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. "No promises while you're balls deep."

He hums, “fine.” He doesn’t argue, but he’s disappointed you never say that’s what you want. He pushes deep again, hunched over you, and the springs of the sofa struggle as he fucks you.

You can tell he's disappointed in your reaction to his comment but you can't make decisions like that when he's touching you. You're already so vulnerable. His next thrust has you crying out his name, nails digging into the fabric of the sofa under you.

“That’s it, hermosa.” He grunts when your walls clench around him. “That’s it, baby. Need you to cum again for me.” He demands, rocking into you over and over, jaw clenched with concentration.

"I will, oh fuck baby, you-" Your moan is low, long as he presses deep and hits something wonderful inside you. "Right there." You gasp. "Right fucking there!"

He groans, rocking into you over and over again, focusing on that same spot. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Cum for me.” He pleads, his voice raspy.

It only takes a few thrusts before your entire body is lurching forward. Back arching as you practically scream his name. Cunt clamping down around him and soaking him in waves of your juices until you are gasping for air.

He lets out a strangled groan as you clamp down on him. “I- fuck- that’s it baby girl. That’s it.” He grunts, “in-inside or no?” He asks, needing to know as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

"I'm on the pill." You moan out, eyes closing as you imagine him filling you up. The heat and warmth of his cum coating your insides. "Wherever you want."

He groans at the news he can fill you up. “Fuck baby. I- shit. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up.” He moans and rocks into you a few more times before he chokes, biting down on your shoulder as he throbs inside of you, painting your walls.

It's exactly what you imagined. Hot and thick inside you. Making you whimper as the sharpness of his teeth bruises your shoulder and your cunt spasms because of his sexy groans. "So good."

Javier, groans and kisses the marks he left on your skin. “That was so fucking good, hermosa.” He nudges his nose against your neck as he pulls out of you, uncaring of his cum dripping onto the sofa he’s planning to get rid of.

You hum in agreement, smiling softly when you turn around and sit down. "It was. You have a gift, Peña." You tease. "Now I want a nap." You admit. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

“You wanna nap here or you wanna go somewhere else?” He asks, caressing your back, and he kisses your shoulder. “Or you wanna go back to the house?”

You hum and bite your lip. "There's a bed in the bedroom right?" You ask softly. "I think I would like to take a nap with you." You admit with a smile. "I doubt mom and Chucho will come out here looking for us. They are hoping we start getting along."

Javier smirks and shifts off of the bed and he reaches for you, “come on baby. Let’s go to bed.” He reaches for your hand and he guides you to the bedroom to lay down. “I’ll clean you up.” He promises and guides you to the bedroom before heading into the bathroom to clean you up.

Once you are cleaned up and snuggled against him, you sigh softly. "I've missed you, Javi." You admit, laying against his chest and listening to his heart beat. "I've missed you so much."

He kisses you softly, curling around you. “Merry Christmas baby.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and he caresses your side as he closes his eyes.

***

It’s been a week, now New Year’s Eve and even though you’ve spent nearly every moment you can in Javier Peña’s bed, you still haven’t had the most important conversation. Too busy getting fucked in every way possible between helping him decorate his new home. Oftentimes sneaking out of the house and over to his after your mother has gone to bed. You never sleep through the night, but you find yourself wanting to. “You look so tired.” Your mom tuts. “Your vacation was supposed to be relaxing.”

You smother a yawn and smile. “I know. I will go to bed early tonight.”

Javier smirks from across the table, “you gotta get your sleep.” He tells you with a smirk, “what’s been keeping you up at night?” He asks with genuine looking concern that makes your mom shake her head, “are you worried about something, honey?”

"I've been thinking about my future." You admit quietly, not looking over at Javier. It doesn't help that you are sneaking in and out of his bed every night either, but the real thing keeping you up has been deciding what you will do. You know Javi has wanted to talk about it, but you've brushed him off so far.

Javier tilts his head, curiosity getting the better of him when he leans forward and says “and what have you been considering?” Chucho looks between you and his son, having picked up what’s going on, even if your mom is still trying to catch up.

You bite your lip, still nervous about what might be. "I don't know." You murmur quietly. "A lot. It's hard to explain."

Javier nods, not willing to push you anymore. These past ten days have been the best and he isn’t going to force you to be with him. He wants you to want him. To spend your life with him. You have your decision to make and he won’t force you but you’re leaving tomorrow and he is anxious about losing you forever if you go.

You look away from him quickly, unwilling to let your mother see the looks that pass between you but Chucho is watching you carefully. "So we are having the party tonight?" You confirm. "What do we need to do?"

“We are having the food catered. Javier just needs to go collect the drinks and we have some decorations to put out.” Your mom tells you and Javier nods, “I’ll go in a bit to get the drinks.” He tells your mom.

You nod. “That’s good. At least you won’t be pushing yourself to spend all day in the kitchen cooking.” You agree. “I’ll go with Javier, get anything else we need.”

Javier is pleased to hear you want to come with him and you’re soon in his truck heading to the store. He doesn’t say much after he starts the engine and the radio plays as he reaches for your hand.

Your fingers thread through his easily and you imagine yourself doing this every time you go to town together. Holding his hand and sitting in the soft silence with the radio playing. "So have you heard from the DEA?" You know he's temporarily on leave, but that could change, or he could be let go completely. It all depends on how angry they are at him.

He sighs, looking up at the traffic light. “I told you, I’m retired. They have to give me leave before I have my final briefing but I’m hoping they allow me to go without any issues.” He admits, “I ain’t going back. I am here now. To stay.”

Somehow, you don’t believe him, but you nod. “So you want to work the ranch with Chucho? That’s your end goal? Or do you have other plans in mind?”

Javier shrugs one shoulder. “That’s the plan. It all comes down to someone deciding they want to share a life with me and I ain’t gonna force her. I want more than a lonely life chasing down cartels that just get replaced by another.”

You squirm slightly in your seat and wonder if he knows how much pressure that is putting on you. “And what would happen if …..things don’t work out?” You ask softly.

Javier knows he can’t push you or force you into being with him. “If things don’t work out then I’ll be here, working with my Pa and I’ll eventually take over the ranch. I’m tired, baby. I want a simple life and if that’s a life alone, then at least it’s peaceful.” He says, having accepted that you might not want him for more than sex.

He sounds so tired and that hurts you. Squeezing his hand gently, you sigh. “I don’t know what I want.” You admit quietly. “I’m scared. Of being hurt again, I guess. I didn’t date for a long fucking time after leaving and never anything serious.”

He nods, “it’s okay. I don’t - I don’t want to pressure you or force you. I don’t want you to make a decision and make the decision you think I want you to make. I’m scared too. I don’t - I haven’t done this properly. A relationship.” He confesses, “at least not one where I’ve felt like this.”

"What do you feel like?" For all the conversations you've had, which aren't many, you've never really gone beyond 'I love you'. It's important to know why and how he loves you.

“I feel like - it’s comfortable. We can sit and say nothing at all and I don’t feel the need to fill the space with talking. We can just…be.” He says and squeezes your hand. “You’re my best friend. The best sex I’ve ever had, and the woman that I can see having a family with. I love you.”

You bite your lip and look down at your hands. “Tonight.” You promise. “I’ll give you an answer tonight. At midnight.” You still don’t know what you will say but he deserves to know that soon a decision will be made.

He nods, Not wanting you to make a decision and regretting it. “No rush baby. I’ll be here. No matter what.” He promises, “you’ll always be my best friend.”

He told you his theory. That Lorraine had seen you at the bar that night. She apparently knew that Javi was in love with you and that was why they had broken up the first time. It’s plausible, but you still aren’t sure. Javi isn’t a liar, at least he wasn’t, but you don’t know if you don’t trust him or yourself anymore. “Thank you.” You murmur sincerely. “Let’s get the food and alcohol so we can get back and help set up.”

****

Javier adjusts his shirt collar, feeling a little heated. Family and friends are gathered in the house and his cousins have the fireworks ready to go for the countdown. He is nervous about what you are going to decide. The rest of his life hangs in the balance and he’s trying to give you some space to make your decision. He sips his whiskey, watching his dad and your mom mingle and you’re across the room making sure his second and third cousins are having a good time and keeping out of the booze. “Countdown in two minutes.” Chucho announces after ten minutes of mingling and gathers the family outside for the fireworks to be set off. Everyone starts moving outside and Javier is looking around, trying to find you in the crowd.

You had slipped off to your room, wanting to make sure that you have your necklace on. It would be a symbolic gesture since you hadn't been wearing it when the party started. Butterflies filling your stomach and making you nearly nauseous. Checking your reflection one more time before slipping out of your bedroom and down the hall to go outside with everyone else. On the porch, you see Javi, craning his neck to look for you and you swallow, knowing that this step will change everything.

Javier almost senses you, turning his head to see you and the smile on his face is boyish. “Hey hermosa.” He murmurs, reaching for your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. His eyes focus on your necklace and his heart thumps a beat but he doesn’t want to assume anything. Not yet. “One minute everyone.” Chucho declares as Danny and some of the other guys get ready for the fireworks to be lit.

“Javi-“ Taking his hand, you turn towards him, swallowing nervously. “I didn’t expect to see you when I agreed to come for Christmas.” You begin. “I didn’t know if I wanted to see you ever again.” It’s hard to admit that, but he knows it’s true. “I had been in love with you for nearly our entire lives and it seemed like you had broken my heart.”

Javier swallows harshly, his heart pounding as your families and friends gather and the radio is loud to announce the countdown. “I did, not on purpose, and I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, getting more and more nervous with each second that passes to the new year.

“I know.” You nod. “But I was so angry, so hurt.” You go on. “Telling myself, you and everyone who would listen, that I couldn’t stand you. That I hated you.” You regret that, especially now that you truly do believe that he hadn’t seen you that night. “You’re here and you want to be with me. It’s probably my younger self’s dream come true.” Everyone around you starts to count down from ten as it gets closer to midnight. You can see that he’s nervous, glancing around and then back at you, but no one else is paying attention. “I have one more question to ask you.”

Javi frowns. “Anything, hermosa.”

You grin as everyone hits ‘two’ on the countdown. “Will you marry me, Javier Peña?”

His eyes widen and he doesn’t even take a second to think as he replies, “fuck yes” and surges forward to kiss you, cupping your cheeks, and the fireworks start to go off as the new year arrives. Javier kisses you for a long moment before he leans back to press his forehead against yours. “Happy New Year, baby.” He murmurs, a grin on his face as he looks at his future wife. This holiday season was complicated and rough but Javier is going into the new year looking forward to a bright future with you, the love of his life and soon to be his wife.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena x f!reader

284 notes · View notes